Chapter 239 - God of Fire And Hell
Shoto ran on the ceiling, upside down, to avoid the bodies littering the ground.

A pang of the wall on his left fell in his wake, a white cloud of dust flying everywhere.

His sharingan slid to the hole from which two prisoners were tumbling from while fighting.

Shoto clapped his hands, and they both looked at him. His Sharingan twirled lazily as he ensnared them in a genjutsu.

Their eyes turned glassy : they stood up, arms lanky, running to the nearest exit.

In their mind, they were running from the wardens who wanted them to get back to their cell.

It was a far cry from Kotoamatsukami, but for people devoid of a chakra system – and, thus, unable to break out of genjutsu – it was more than enough.

Shoto acknowledged neither warden nor inmates, merely doing his job of getting out while sowing more chaos.

Had he purposefully oriented his explosion so that most of the cells' doors above his would burst open ? Yes, he did.

But he hadn't killed anyone – yet – so whatever the freed prisoners were doing wasn't his responsibility.

Shoto kept running through the corridors, shunshining to cover distance faster.

He witnessed a hollow-cheeked inmate looting bodies to find a weapon, saw crazed-eyed, corpse-like inmates ganging up on a single warden and beating him to death.

He ensnared them all in his genjutsu, pushing in their mind the need to gather and flee.

For those who were too weakened to even crawl, Shoto had an ice bullet ready for them.

He turned at a corner and saw an inmate sprawled out on the ground like a starfish, laughing hysterically, moving his arms and legs as if to make snow angels in a pool of blood.

His hand repeatedly hit the cheek of a body lying next to him as though he were slapping him : the corpse's tongue lolled out of its mouth, the tip licking the bloodied floor.

The ice bullet was ready, though the flash of blue hair made Shoto pause for a brief second he couldn't afford.

Dry spit running down his chin, hair messy and dirty, a huge grin splitting in face in two, Tomura Shigaraki kept rolling on the ground.

He laughed out loud, his eyes not even seeing Shoto.

'Sensei'

And he burst out laughing louder.

For people in such a state, death was mercy.

Blood spurted out like fireworks from his burst ear.

He stiffened then his head fell limply on the side, eyes bulging, a huge grin on his lips.

Shoto's eyes locked on a closed door, his eyes roaming over the words.

He stopped dead in his tracks, the familiarity of the name ringing alarm bells yet unable to fully remember where he'd heard it before a memory from his last life flashed in his mind.

He hesitated for a brief second.

He had to sow confusion and chaos ; yet if he brought him out, it could mean the death of hundreds of people if not more.

There was a part of him that knew it was wrong, and another, bigger, who was vindictive enough that he had to see the country that'd tried to imprison him for helping a friend on its knees.

Thus, Shoto opened Nine's cell.

*

There were two ways of activating God Mode : you could gather the heat from a boiling floor, take energy from it and activate your own transformation, or you could seek the energy from deep within yourself, reach in your 'power' core, and make your body reach never-heard-of temperatures, before using said power to activate God Mode and lit up the world like a light-bulb.


The second one was the hardest of the two as, if not treading carefully, you could melt from the inside out.

Enji had heard of a few people in their family who'd killed themselves that way, trying to master a stronger version of the God Mode yet ending up with their melted organs leaking out of every hole in their body in what would be one of the most excruciating forms of death.

Yet the second option was the quickest and, thus, that's what Enji did.

He braced himself, jaw clenched, fists closed, focusing on Jin Woo's shadowy form whose eyes were now fully black.

Lava was swirling and rolling at the lowest level of the prison, slowly melting away walls and people.

Today Enji would kill countless people – prisoners and innocents alike – to rescue his son.

He'd like to say that he felt guilty about it, but the last bit of his remorse had died when they'd put his eldest in a shoe box.

"You can still back down"

Jin Woo's voice was chilling, as though a thousand people were speaking simultaneously.

Enji's skin shattered.

Lava filled the cracks like water filling up a broken glass. Red and yellow lit up his broken face as if there was a glowing sun beneath his skin.

Lava poured from the cracks, covering his broken skin like a second layer : a fiery, living armor of barely solidified lava covered his whole body, fire erupting here and there in short, powerful bursts.

The heat he radiated was so strong all of the grass in a hundred-meter radius caught fire.

Under him the ground was black, charred, destroyed beyond repair : a few meters behind, the trees leading up to a patch of forest caught fire from within, burning like candles, leaves on fire crackling, crumbling bark turning to ashes.

Jin Woo looked up ; the sky turned fiery red, the ominous color spreading like wildfire among the clouds, the sun so intensely brilliant it looked like it would burst.

Everything, from the ground to the sky, was taking a reddish, fiery, hue, as though the whole world was catching fire.

Jin Woo looked down.

Enji, glowing like a dying star, was fully translucent, encased in a swirling armor of lava, his blue eyes fluorescent like overpowered light bulbs, his red hair now molten lava.

Jin Woo, still floating in the sky, cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders.

He raised his hands, and the world stilled.

"Monarch's Domain"

Shadows burst like a tsunami from Jin Woo.

They ran between the clouds and the top of trees, a thick layer of darkness separating the ground from the sky, encasing them – in a half-kilometer radius – void of obscurity.

Enji looked up at the dark blanket as it spread like a malevolent domain, chasing the light from the world : it was shimmery, so dark it looked blue.

It looked as if the world had turned upside down, Jin Woo turning the sky into a shady ocean, Enji an earthly sun that lit up the world around him.

The fire and the shadows clashed, none of them able to overpower the other.

Enji and Jin Woo seized each other, both inhuman creatures that had nothing to do with mortals.

They were gods among men, beings made to shatter the earth and destroy the sky.

Enji opened his hands, keeping his palms close to each other.

A core of swirling lava appeared, rings of fire gravitating around it, so hot that bits of translucent skin on Enji's palms turned crisp black and fell on the floor like snow.

He raised his hands, and the core shot up from his hands to Jin Woo at lightning speed, wind hissing behind it, world bending around it, chasing the shadows away as it ascended.

Jin Woo raised his hand : a shadow portal appeared in between him and the glowing orb, swallowing it in a pit of darkness. It closed behind it, devouring both heat and light.

"Is that-"

The space where the portal had closed burst like an imploding star, a shock wave of lava and light burning the very air in a loud, hissing pitch.

A ring of fire propagated like a mid-air earthquake, turning to ashes everything in its wake. Scorching wave of heat, it burned the top of trees and hit Jin Woo head-on.

A shadow wall rose between them but the blast broke through it easily and hit him straight in the gut, forcing the air out of him in a gasp, clothes catching fire.

He was sent whirling into the administrative section of the prison, destroyed the roof, and went through the only two surface-level floors.

A cloud of smoke rose, hiding Jin Woo from Enji's view.

Enji spun on his feet, lava hand intercepting Jin Woo's shadowy fist who'd have blasted a hole in his chest had he been a fraction slower.

Jin Woo was still rising from a puddle of darkness that had gathered right behind Enji, the shadows momentarily receding from his face as he cocked his head to the side :

"You won't win that one"

Enji grunted as the pressure applied against his open palm increased tenfold, the shadows flickering like thousands of tiny tongues on Jin Woo's knuckles, licking at the lava covering Enji before moving away, startled, as if burned and hurt, yet unrelenting.

Enji met Jin Woo's gaze head-on: Jin Woo pushed more and more, Enji's hand bending further backward until he felt his bones cracking.

Enji gritted his teeth, his translucent skin turning to glass, the blood in his body turning to molten lava, his fluorescent eyes, previously two beaming blue lights, now two laser-blue pits of fire.

Jin Woo's eyes widened and he let go of Enji, shadows draping over him, yet it was too late : Enji, head raised towards the sky, was as brilliant as a supernova, white light lighting him up from the inside as though he had the sun in his chest.

Blue lava shot up from every inch of his skin in a monstrous, devastating wave of scorching heat.

Jin Woo's shadows shot up as he was already waist down a portal when the wave hit him head-on, overwhelming him.

The barely standing trees were obliterated, ashes swooshed up towards the inky sky before they caught fire, and the nearby building, already half-molten, collapsed on itself like a wet mud castle.

The soil, already on fire, turned black, the heat so intense it destroyed until the smallest blade of grass, turning the ground infertile for as far as the heat could reach.

Blue lava hit Jin Woo's dome, burning away the shadows that tried to rekindle themselves as fast, lapping at the dark wall like sea foam and licking the sand, searching for a way to get out.

Jin Woo tried to keep the heat in – even though the air was reaching unbreathable levels of hot – but he could not contain Enji's devastating power.

Far beneath Enji's artificial lava the ground rumbled, Japanese volcanoes waking up one after another, panicked scientists scrambling up to the nearest phone to warn about the incoming catastrophe.

A level seven earthquake shook Tokyo and its immediate surroundings, badly built buildings collapsing on themselves, cracks spreading through the streets, cars falling in wide crevasses, people screaming and trying to take cover.

For the first time in nearly seven hundred years, Mount Fuji woke up.

It started with a low rumble and a sudden puff of smoke exhaled by the crater, as though it were coming back to life.

Rubble ran down from its top down to frowning hikers ; the ground was shaking.

Then, without warning, a pillar of lava shot up from its crater, speckles coloring the clouds a deathly red.

People soaking in hot springs were ushered out quickly : the slowest were boiled alive.

Enji fell on one knee, breathing ragged, black spots dancing in his vision.

His lungs were so hot he feared they'd melt inside his chest, the outside layer of his skin burning away like paper, falling around him in charred speckles.

A few meters in front of him shadows surged forward and gathered in a black puddle.

Enji, still as bright as a white sun, blinked and raised his hand, willing the lava to devour it, but a cough shook him and he bent over, holding onto the swirling lava that moved as if it were alive around his ankles.

Soot dripped from his mouth, disappearing in the lava with a hiss.

Jin Woo rose from his shadows.

Half of his face was molten, his skull caved in as if someone had bashed it in with a hammer. There was no blood, only a dark, thick liquid dripping from his wounds like ink, falling down his clothes and disappearing within the swirling portal.

His eyes were glassy : he hit his last functional ear with the palm of his head, head cocked, as though he wanted to get something out of it.

The inky blood turned to a thousand whips that grabbed tightly onto each other, bubbling like monstrous flesh for Jin Woo was regenerating himself.

The ink turned to flesh then skin grew over it, filling the caved-in head as though it'd been nothing.

Jin Woo's eyes were sharp : there was no more arrogance, no more cocky act, no more misplaced confidence.

He'd underestimated a Todoroki : he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

"Arise"

*

A/N :

Hope you enjoy the story for now because it won't last.
 
Chapter 240 - The Wolf In Sheep's Clothes
"Sir, the prisoners are going to die"

It was mayhem.

Despite beefing up security for tomorrow's transfer, it was far from enough to deal with the current chaos.

From the explosion in inmate 77's room, three levels had been breached.

The inmate in the cell right above had been charred by it, caught unaware, and had died in his sleep.

Unfortunately, it had blown off level two's inmate's door.

He'd been one of the few who hadn't been to Tartarus yet and was, thus, fully able to fight his way out, and that's exactly what he did.

From then on, more prisoners found a way to get out, causing more chaos : they were overwhelmed in no time.

The gradual heat was soon starting to get suffocating, the very air scorching hot.

It felt like you were taking gulps of pure fire, your throat sandpaper, and your lungs desert – and it was only getting worse as time passed.

"Sir-"

"I know", cut them the captain, browsing through their recordings.

Perspiration made his unadjusted clothes uncomfortably cling to his skin : he was red and had trouble breathing – like everybody else – yet he was glad he'd managed to switch positions with the warden's captains right before shit hit the proverbial fan.

At least the other warden was too busy freaking out to go to the bathroom and find the conveniently laid-out body in the last stall.

Most of them watched over his shoulder, increasingly worried, as he kept browsing through the computer's files.

"Sir, I insist but-"

"Do we have a hard drive ?", he wondered out loud. "Anything on which I can find the cameras' recording of the cells ?"

"Here, sir"

Someone scrambled to get it, and the captain had to pat himself on the back for asking.

He should've done so a while ago but it was difficult to consider them as anything but foes.

He pocketed the hard drive.

Most were chancing glances at the door, afraid that the inmates would get to them, yet unable to do anything not ordered by the captain in fear of it being seen as desertion.

One of them hadn't and frowned when he saw him pocket the proof of whatever the hell had happened to cause this fiasco.

Even though they were on the highest level of the underground prison, smoke was starting to gather close to the ceiling.

On a few screens, they could see inmates – mostly the lethargic ones from Tartarus – banging weakly on their doors or falling to the ground, clutching their throats with their bony hands.

"It's inhuman...", someone whispered.

They could only hope that the smoke would kill them before the heat did.

An idea flashed through the pretending captain's mind :

"It is indeed", he said. "They may be criminals, yes, but they're still humans"

A few exchanged glances.

Those imprisoned here had done a few – or many – atrocious things to warrant such treatment.

The captain's hand hovered above a specific button on the central monitor.

"Sir", insisted the one who'd caught him pocketing the disk. "We can't-"

A bullet tore right through him, his brain matter splattering all over the four other dummies behind him.

They were gasping, frozen, wondering why their captain had killed one of them.

"Shut up", the captain said, nonchalantly tugging at his shirt to let some fresh air get in.

His hand caught the light : his ring flashed, the logo of a stylized flame shining.

He surveyed the other men and, judging them as no threat, pushed the button opening all of the cells before taking care of them.

*

It was pure coincidence that Katsuki met Shoto and not one of his clones – even more surprising that he met him at all.

Shoto's gaze had lit up before his nostrils had flared : his gaze had gone from Katsuki's groin to his stained shoes.

His red eyes had stayed locked on them for so long that, Katsuki, first relieved, had looked down before realizing what he was looking at, shame turning his face red.

He tried to rub his wet ankle on his pants to hide the stain but there was no point.

Shoto's eyes snapped to his, his whole body tense : something dark had flickered in his gaze.

"Did you piss yourself ?"

Hearing it said out loud was like a slap to Katsuki.

He clenched his fists, face burning : he felt like he would die of embarrassment.

"Chisaki..."

Katsuki shut up, unable to say more, biting his lip until he drew blood.

Shoto hadn't seen the bodies and the walls covered in blood, hadn't heard his chilling tone when he told Katsuki to run, he couldn't– Yuei hadn't prepared them for that, for dead people splattered like gum against walls, for a psycho who ate kids like you for breakfast, fuck-

Shoto had no right to judge him.

"Did you flee ?"

Shoto's tone startled Katsuki, striking him as (INHABITUEL), making him uneasy.

Katsuki's throat was dry, his hands clammy.

He looked away.

"There was..."

His vocal cords were in a knot, and he realized he could barely speak because he would sound so weak.

Unshed tears of shame burned his eyes, and he lashed out :

"Yes I fucking fled because this guy is a fucking monster !"

Shoto, Katsuki slowly realized, was judging him.

His gaze was accusatory, something akin to anger twisting his expression, disgust dripping off his features, and it fucking pissed Katsuki.

Wasn't he supposed to be his friend ? Why was he looking at him as if he were so far beneath him, not even the dirt under his shoes ?

"And why the fuck are you looking at me like that ?", he screamed "It's not because you are a murderer that I-"

Between one breath and the next, Shoto was in Katsuki's private space, his grip tight on his neck.

Katsuki's gaze widened when he met the unnaturally red eyes, the same ones that had given his classmates nightmares.

The world blurred : one second and they were in a perfectly normal corridor, the next Katsuki was back a few levels deeper, right where there had been the two bodies lying around, except now there were only two large splashes of red and guts, and Katsuki thought he was going to throw up.

Shoto shoved him forward unceremoniously.

"You can't flee"

Anger and incomprehension flared in Katsuki's chest.

"You're strong", Shoto insisted. "You've got All Might's Quirk. You can't flee"

"Are you cra-"

"Look who's back"

Katsuki's stomach dropped.

Crouched a few meters behind Shoto, right where Katsuki had been earlier, was Kai Chisaki, patting the pockets of a dead warden, searching for something.

He rose from his position, gaze flickering from Shoto to Katsuki.

"And you even brought a friend. How thoughtful"

Shoto didn't seem the least bit concerned about Chisaki's presence ; his hard gaze was locked on Katsuki.

"You can't flee", he repeated.

Panic was rising in Katsuki's chest, his heart pounding painfully against his rib cage, the air suddenly scarce.

What the fuck was Shoto doing, acting like such a lunatic ?

"I won't k-"

"You will"

Katsuki was panting, black creeping at the edge of his vision, his eyes locked on the twisted face of Kai Chisaki, the man who'd killed- who'll kill-

"We are not negotiating"

The more Shoto spoke, the less Katsuki felt as if he were the same person he knew.

Grinding his teeth so hard his jaw hurt, Katsuki blurted out :

"Why do you care so much ?"

Shoto's face hardened.

"Because it's not fair that you can walk away when you want and I-"

He shut up, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then looked down at Katsuki, a lot more subdued :

"If you do not kill him I will kill you"

Katsuki's whole body froze : Shoto's words chilled him to the bone.

Shoto's face was as smooth as a lake, unyielding.

"What ?"

There was no amusement in Shoto's eyes, nothing that could've pointed out to a distasteful joke.

Katsuki's adrenaline spiked up.

The coldness of Shoto's features, the dark resignation of his gaze petrified him.

For the first time in his life, Katsuki was terrified of Shoto.

Legs shaking, he took a step back ; a knife glided into Shoto's palm, the ceiling's white lights reflecting harshly on it.

Katsuki stopped moving, stopped thinking, stopped breathing.

Chisaki walked leisurely towards Shoto, gaze dull and one eyebrow raised :

"What-"

Both his hands fell to the ground, sliced clean, the first burst of blood from the severed wrists violent and messy.

He screamed, hysterical, and it rattled Katsuki, whereas Shoto looked like he hadn't moved from his position, red-flecked knife in hand.

Katsuki and Shoto seized each other, the first terrified and the second coldly resigned.

Chisaki fell to his knees, trying to gather his severed hands with his forearms, crawling in his own blood.

Katsuki started retching.

Goosebumps were breaking across his skin.

Shoto's malevolent gaze was leveled with Katsuki's.

"He hurt you", he said, voice dangerously low. "He deserves it"

Katsuki shook his head yet did not speak, fearing that Shoto would act on his threat.

Suddenly Shoto was beside Katsuki : he fisted his hair and yanked his head up harshly.

"It's an opportunity", Shoto said, voice dangerously low. "I am helping you"

Katsuki's chest rose and fell quickly, eyes dilated like those of a prey who knows it's one breath away from dying.

"If you kill in a controlled environment, next time you won't freeze – next time it will be easier"

Katsuki didn't want next time to be easier.

As if he'd heard his thoughts, Shoto violently pushed him forward.

Katsuki tripped on his own feet.

Confused and afraid, he didn't even dare look back to him.

Who was this guy wearing his best friend's face ?

Shoto shoved his knife in Katsuki's hand and forced him to kneel next to a still screaming Chisaki.

There was something deeply unsettling about seeing the previously cool Kai looking like he was on the verge of losing it.

Chisaki's face twisted with rage as he caught sight of the one who hurt him, something bordering on insanity in his eyes :

"You bast-"

Shoto's shoe found his face and he held him down, helpless cheek wet with his own blood.

"You asked me to help you", Shoto said, gaze locked on Katsuki, not acknowledging Chisaki flailing helplessly like a fish out of water under his shoe. "You cried and you complained and I answered"

Chisaki's angry, bulging eyes nearly popping out of their socket as he strained to look at Shoto, above him, and Katsuki, so close they could touch.

They settled on him as he saw the weapon between his childish fingers.

It was freezing between his fingers.

"Kill him"

Suddenly, Chisaki stopped buckling.

He smelt Katsuki's weakness, relished in it.

There was a twisted, vindictive gleam in his golden eyes, as though he knew that the picture of him dying would haunt Katsuki for the rest of his life and he exulted at the idea.

He'd die but he would take a part of Katsuki with him as he did.

"Kill him !"

Katsuki's sudden move was one caused by sheer panic.

Rather than slitting his throat like he should have, he stabbed : a spray of blood hit Katsuki's left cheek. He dropped the weapon as if it'd burned him.

Chisaki's gaze did not leave his as his chest was rising and falling quickly, as though something was building up in his lungs that couldn't get out. Blood bubbled like foam on the hole that Katsuki had made.

There was no panic in Chisaki's eyes, no frightened twist in his expression.

He welcomed death like someone ready to face the full consequences of his actions.

Chisaki died, and something in Katsuki did too.

Shoto crouched, head cocked, looking down at the handiwork as though he wanted to criticize Katsuki's messy methods before he decided to pat him on the shoulder.

Katsuki flinched.

"See ? Wasn't that hard"

His voice was now nice and smooth, sickeningly comforting, and Katsuki drew support from it as much as it gave him goosebumps, his blood curling at being so close to him.

There was a puff of smoke, but Katsuki could not look away from Chisaki's dead eyes.

He'd stolen his future, he'd stolen from him the ability to change, to become someone better ; he'd stolen a man, a friend, a son, maybe a father, Neito's uncle.

Katsuki had stolen a life.

It hadn't been an accident, this time.

He had had the choice of complying with Shoto's order or not, and he'd driven the knife in.

Shoto gently grabbed Katsuki's shoulder, and Katsuki wanted to scream and tell him not to touch him.

"I was bluffing, you know ? I wasn't going to kill you if you didn't do it"

Katsuki didn't move.

Shoto sighed.

"The building is going to collapse. We have to get you out"

Then the world blurred.

*

Smoke was rising from Enji's skin, billowing around his arms and legs, while he breathed heavily.

All around him, in the spots that Enji's lava hadn't covered yet, shadows gathered and stirred.

His muscles were shaking painfully : he gritted his teeth to force himself to focus on the lava swirling inside of his body.

Teka would've called him stupidly insane : pouring lava into his own body to withstand the monstrous temperatures he'd wanted to bring the world to was pure suicide.

It was only a matter of time before his organs started shutting one after another – and, frankly, he was surprised he'd stayed conscious for that long.

This was far above what God Mode should be able to do, a theory coined by one of his insane grand-father : should one Todoroki prove his body strong enough to withstand it, he'd be able to call upon earth's inner core, a power so strong that, if ever used, could provoke the extinction of humanity.

He'd bought Shoto enough time : as it was, he should already be halfway to Atami.

Enji panted as he tried to focus on the fight ahead. Any second he could stall for was one second more for his son to flee.

His vision was blurry, the heat burning his eyes, yet he forced himself to look up.

He was not afraid of dying – rather, he welcomed it.

The only thing he regretted was not being able to see Shoto one last time.

"You're too much of a threat to be left alive"

Humanoid creatures made of shadows shot up like spikes from the ground.

They grew in length and size, reaching unnatural heights, towering over Enji's prostrated form like an undead army.

Enji's mind swam : he tried to count them.

fifty-six, fifty-seven-

Enji blinked, the ground roared, cracks spreading and lava bubbling from it.

Enji's nostrils flared.

This was it – he was reaching the end of his abilities, unable to draw on more power from the earth.

He rose on shaky legs, refusing to die on his knees, lava armor swirling on his body as if he were alive. Enji exhaled, and a cloud of smoke came out.

He barely realized that his tongue was burning, as was his flesh.

Fire flickered across his skin ; it was only a matter of time before he combusted.

Yet, still fighting for some precious seconds, Enji's arms rose as the shadow beings sprung to action.

Enji-

There was a flash of darkness, a gust of wind, something that flashed so quickly it looked like both Enji and Jin Woo were statues.

A bolt of lightning fell from the sky and hit the top of Jin Woo's dome : it shattered like blackened glass.

Jin Woo craned his neck up painfully slowly, his brain unable to fully process what was going on as it happened.

Something slammed in Enji's chest, uprooting him with the ease of a tornado uprooting a house, ground shattering in slow motion.

It caught fire as soon as it brushed Enji.

-inhaled.

The world was a blurry mess of lightning-fast sky and earth merging into each other in a brown mush of nothing discernible.

Puke was at the back of his burning throat but he held it forcefully down.

As suddenly as it had happened, everything stopped.

Enji was unceremoniously pushed to the ground where he threw up.

The salty wind hit him like a slap and the grass he grabbed onto caught fire.

His dilated pupils took a while to adapt to the bright world after the overwhelming darkness and his breath caught when he realized where he was.

Atami.

*

BONUS :

His ears were keen enough for him to pick up on the sound of fighting.

The pained screams and the agonizing gurgles echoed like an awful, awful melody.

Despite his brief imprisonment in Tartarus, his senses were still strong enough for him to be the second to notice that the earth was boiling.

There'd been a loud explosion, and then it was mayhem.

Dozens and dozens were dying. He'd die soon, too.

He closed his eyes, head resting against the warm wall. Black smoke was billowing in his room. He coughed, though he did not try to breathe in the fresh air close to the floor.

Suddenly, the door to his cell was pushed open : it hit the wall so loudly that it rattled on its hinges, the tremor spreading through the wall.

He had trouble picking up the smell, but he hoped it was someone who would kill him.

Gently – as though they were scared of breaking him - someone's hands grabbed him under his knees and armpits.

Yellow eyes opened under heavy eyelids.

"I told you that if you tried to get me out I'd kill myself", he mumbled, though his tongue was so heavy the words got out incoherently.

His gaze locked on the bi-colored eyes who were looking straight ahead and not at him.

"Close your eyes"

The world blurred, and he closed his eyes.

Part of his mind – the small part still sane enough – noticed that his legs were too thin, his knees too knotty, his whole body too light.

He wondered if it was why the boy carrying him had looked so pained.

The world stopped spinning.

He was laid out on a cool, fresh patch of grass, far away from the collapsing prison.

When he opened his yellow eyes he was alone under a starry sky.

He contemplated the stars while the wind carried to his ears the sound of the dying.

*

A/N :

I think that's the last of the chapters left I had to publish before I start publishing those of this week - though even if it's not (and you got a free one or smth) it doesn't matter because it's the end of the story soon.

See you in the next update everyone !
 
Chapter 241 - Farewell
It had been a split-second decision : on the one hand, Jin Woo's back was to me, on the other, my dying father.

I slammed into Dad with the force of a bull, though I was careful not to knock the wind out of him.

I had caught fire as soon as I brushed him, a match lit up thanks to scorching heat, mentally panicking because what the fuck had dad been thinking getting his temperature so high and why the hell was there fucking lava roaring right under his skin-

Jin Woo's abnormal fully black eyes followed my trajectory with a slight delay.

His hand rose, shadows whispered.

All of my energy went to my legs, and in a flash, we'd disappeared from the near vicinity, the world blurring around us.

Yet Jin Woo caught up easily : we were leaving a trail of red fire, a flash of light that burned the very air in neon red.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to go faster, leaving the shattering ground to start shattering trees while hopping from one to the next.

It puzzled Jin Woo for no more than a handful of seconds before he followed like the disgusting leech he was.

Still intent on not waiting to do damage control with Dad's body, I could not afford for Jin Woo to get to our level and, thus, take my mind away from the more urgent business.

Lightning fell from the sky, splitting the ground and sending scorched soil blocks everywhere. It effectively cut us from Jin Woo for three seconds before he bypassed it.

A shadow clone holding another equally shadow dad sprouted from me like fungus.

This one had more than 60% of my reserves, enough to grab Jin Woo's attention whereas I blanketed my chakra to make myself look inconspicuous, trying to conceal dad's energy too and cursing myself for never working out the ins and outs of concealing other people's energy.

Genjutsu covered us in a 'there's nothing here' blanket while we hit behind a large tree.

Rather than abruptly change direction, I settled on a more subtle approach for my clone : he ran straight ahead, only barely veering right so his course would be altered in a hundred meters or so, subtle enough not to raise suspicion hopefully.

As I still wasn't certain Jin Woo wouldn't see right through my trick, lightning bolts kept falling from the sky, acting like a barrier between my clones and him.

Jin Woo flashed past me without so much as an eye twitch ; I held my breath until both groups were halfway out of my sensory range before I bolted left, dying, inert father slumped on my shoulders.

His nose bled, each burning drop scorching holes through my orange uniform, then falling to the ground, burning the grass black.

Desperation made me carelessly fast : momentum built up in my legs until I bolted at close to light-speed levels of fast, faster than what I'd done at Atago-Jinja.

Yet the speed meant I, despite my sharingan on, could barely keep up with my blurred soundings.

More time than I could count we bulldozed our way through trees, obliterating them, while I hoped that no one would be unlucky enough to find themselves on our path, because I couldn't – wouldn't – stop.

Jin Woo and my clones got nearly out of my sensory field, and I shot across meadows and plains like a rocket.

The distance between us increased at breakneck speed as we were both running – really, shooting – in opposite directions.

My clone popped, hit by shadows, and I knew it surprised Jin Woo enough that I felt him stop dead in his tracks, wondering what was going on.

He stayed still for long enough that he got out of my moving sensory range. He didn't run back in.

The world was a stream of shapeless colors, and when the first drop of salty wind hit my nose, my legs buckled in relief and I fell to the ground.

The momentum propelled me nearly two hundred meters forward. I had enough sense to shift Dad from my back to my chest, rolling on the ground to cushion our fall.

Everything went to an abrupt stop, so fast that my brain got a mental freeze.

I hurriedly took off my mask and threw up, shaking like a leaf, sweating buckets.

Stars were dancing around me : the whole world felt as if it would collapse on itself, a black hole that would swallow us.

I threw up once more because the first time had just been an appetizer.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, ignoring how dirty I was, and dragged myself to Dad.

I was still on fire and so was he, even though his condition was more akin to spontaneous combustion.

I put my hands on his chest, assessing his condition. His organs would start shutting down soon.

I needed to lower his temperature enough before cooling him down, otherwise I'd just make it worse.

I used my body as a pipe, stealing his heat with my right hand and directing it to the ground below where it was diffused, using my left to repair his damaged organs as I did so.

Once I felt like he wouldn't suddenly die on me because of the stark difference in temperatures, I cooled him down.

Soon enough he was breathing better and so was I.

My hands flickered over his burnt epidermis, rebuilding it as quickly as I could, stopping all of the superficial bleeding.

The green light turned off.

I slumped against the ground, forehead against the warm floor, taking in deep, relieved breaths.

"You brought us to… to Atami ?"

Dad's astonishment was easily heard.

I rolled on my back, arms spread around me.

Seagulls flew over our heads, cackling. The green sea was sparkling.

"How fast did you… ?"

Water gently shot from the back of my mouth to my teeth, cleaning away the awful taste.

I spit the yellowish mix, and it dirtied my pants. I was too tired to care.

I closed my eyes. The world was still spinning.

Slowly – afraid I'd fall through the ground if I moved too quickly – I lay down.

Even though it was still it felt as if a hundred snakes were stirring beneath the surface.

"Don't..." Large gulp of air "Don't do that again", I exhaled, exhausted, trying to sound as reproachful as I could even though I knew I was failing miserably.

Dad stilled, yet at least he wasn't shameless enough to lie to my face.

My forearm rested on my eyes, shielding them from the sun. They were still burning and hurting so much. My chest was rising and falling quickly with every dizzying breath I was drawing in.

"I knew you hadn't planned on getting out alive"

There, just the right amount of anger.

I'd known the second I was told Atami was the destination that he had in mind.

Dad had launched himself into what he'd believed to be a suicide mission : he'd gone to save me and had been ready to lay his life for me had the need arisen, best case scenario end up in jail for me.

The fact that Teka had certainly endorsed his crazy plan was enough to make me want to murder someone. She must've had a backup plan to get him out if necessary, but it still infuriated me beyond measure.

I opened my mouth, closed it, and gritted my teeth.

The mere fact that he'd acted on such an idiotic plan disturbed me greatly.

The dad I knew would've devised a plan to get us both out of harm's way, he wouldn't have been ready – eager, even – to hurt himself.

It rubbed me the wrong way.

I wanted to say it but couldn't muster up the courage to.

"… don't do that again", I settled for, quietly.

He knew I knew, and I could only hope it would be enough.

Dad lay on the ground beside me.

He smelt like a smoking bonfire and, even behind closed eyelids, I could see him as clearly as if my eyes were open, radiating so much heat and light that he was eclipsing the sun.

In my mind, he was a crisp, radiant white disk, so bright that no shadows could exist in his presence. I basked in the warmth he provided, drinking it in greedily.

Last time I'd seen him he'd been cooped up in his room, unwilling to even acknowledge me.

"Nothing escapes you", he tried to laugh it off awkwardly.

I smiled weakly ; at least he was aware…

I didn't want to put him on the spot, and he didn't want to argue, so we stopped talking.

Tiredness hit me like a brick wall.

I was not crazy enough to sleep in what was enemy territory, so I settled for physical rest if not mental.

A hand gently shook me.

I blinked, looking at the setting sun with wonder, not remembering when I'd fallen asleep.

"They're here"

He showed me a large ship sailing in our direction.

I hardly got up, my muscles as heavy and rigid as stones. My chakra coils were hurting so much that I had never been more aware of my body's pathways.

I was so tired I felt like I was going to die.

Repeating the feat I'd pulled up at Atago-Jinja had been hard enough but I had to hold onto it enough to cross the distance between Tokyo's outskirts and here.

The craziest part was that Jin Woo had managed to keep up, albeit he'd been slightly behind.

The easiest way to permanently take care of him would be…

"Feeling good enough to walk ?"

Dad looked like shit too even though I'd done my best to patch him up, thus I didn't want to bother him by asking to use him as a crutch.

I nodded and stood up on my legs, though they were wobbly.

We walked down a trail that led us to the beach. The sand crunched under our feet.

Atami, far on the left, was devoid of any life that wasn't a stray cat or rabid dog.

There were still traces of Dad's nearly activated God Mode, crumbled buildings that I could spot, and cracks on the ground that I could imagine.

I still remembered years ago when Kenzei and I had gotten here : I'd thought whoever had tried to kidnap me – or kill me, I still wasn't clear about this – had emptied the city, and I'd always wondered how they'd done so, but the truth was, Atami was one of the many Japanese cities who'd seen her population dwell until, when the last elder died, there had been no one left.

I wondered if someone had bothered to clean the hangar or if there were still splotches of dark red everywhere, proof of the day I'd decided to live up to what I'd been born to do.

Salted wind hit my nose full force, chasing away the smell of death, though I could still smell blood vividly enough to taste it, and I pulled my mask back on.

Dad was hunched, walking quietly.

"They're not going to stop chasing us, are they ?"

The ship was maneuvering a smooth U-turn.

"They can't. I used the God Mode to such a scale that… Starting from today onward, we're fugitives. There's no coming back from this"

We stopped where the sea licked our shoes – or rather our toes.

We'd both nearly obliterated our shoes, Dad's burning to a crisp and mine's soles destroyed by friction, only the top staying fastened to our ankles.

"I don't think I've got anything left here anyway", I said.

Dad did, and he said nothing.

I could console myself with the fact that Keigo was alive and that I'd fulfilled my promise to Katsuki.

Natsu and Léo would be alright without me – they'd always been closer to each other anyway – and concerning Yuei… I was sure it would be a relief for everyone to know they wouldn't ever see me again.

"Can you truly walk on water ?", Dad asked.

I nodded.

"Just give me a few minutes to gather myself and then I'll get us on the ship"

"Who ever said anything about you getting us there ?"

He grabbed me by the back of my shirt and, fire bursting from the sole of his feet, shot us through the sky.

I'd have protested if I could – because he was the one more injured – but I was too exhausted to.

There were orange and reddish hues in the sky : anyone who looked up would have trouble picking us apart from the clouds.

We landed smoothly on the deck, a regal Teka waiting for us, hands clasped behind her back.

She scanned us both from head to toe, lips pursed, before something flashed in her eyes.

For a fleeting moment, it looked as if her shoulders were sagging with relief, joy smoothing her features before she smothered them.

"You look like beggars"

Dad shot her an unimpressed look, slightly annoyed.

"We are well, thank you for asking"

She shot him a sharp glance and the interaction – the silliness and familiarity of it – brought forth emotions I had trouble putting words on.

I quickly covered the distance between us and she frowned.

"Do not-"

I engulfed her in a hug, her head against the crook of my neck.

She froze and I knew Dad was watching me as if I'd grown two heads, yet the simplicity of the moment after everything that had happened made me emotional.

She awkwardly patted me on the back and moved her head away for a second, likely to send a 'what the hell happened to him' glance at Dad, to which I pictured him shrugging.

I let her go and looked at both her and Dad.

God how grateful I am to have them.

Noticing grandma's worried face, I shrugged :

"I'm just happy to see you"

"And I'm…", She frowned as if unsure how to express herself "...glad you're alive"

She looked so confused it was nearly funny.

Us Todoroki truly were a bunch of emotionally stunned people.

"It's time to leave", Dad said

Teka took hold once more of herself.

"Should we worry about them tailing us ?"

I shook my head.

"We lost them"

My clone had gotten Jin Woo as close to the Pacific Ocean as he could : they wouldn't consider searching in Atami for us for a while – if they ever did.

Teka turned to Dad.

"When can we expect to see you again ?"

I frowned.

"At least not for a few weeks. I'll have to lay low until they actively stop searching for us"

"It will take some time", she mused. "Are you certain you do not want to come with us ? We'll stop by an island not far from here to get our jet for Singapore"

"What do you mean Dad ? We're not going with grandma ?"

A vein throbbed on her forehead.

"Little sh-"

"I am not going with you"

I was utterly confused.

"What ? Why ?"

There was no reason for him to stay there – this country had nothing else for us.

"There's things I need to take care of", he said vaguely. "Some work that can't be left undone..."

"I'll come with you"

He shook his head.

"They will be searching for two people with our builds. If I travel alone, it will be easier for me to blend in"

"I can easily cover our tracks", I said. "I can make sure no one finds us"

I henged into Jin Woo to prove my point : dad's eyebrows shot up while grandma looked speechless.

Yet he still refused.

"It's something that I need to do alone"

I was racking my brain to find any reason for his rebuttal, going back to my own appearance in a nearly smokeless puff.

Even though I would bring him far more benefits than anything, he still wanted to do it – whatever it was - alone.

"There are some things that a father alone can do", he explained, as though this cryptic answer was worth anything.

Once more I felt uncomfortable and couldn't help but study him more intently than I'd done previously.

Despite the strong facade he was putting on, he looked wary, burst capillaries in his eyes and violet eye bags on sick-looking skin.

He rubbed his cheek and I noticed he'd missed a spot when he'd shaved, as if he'd barely been aware of what he'd been doing.

His brows were drawn low, his head tilted forward as though he was bearing a weight too heavy to carry on his own, yet refusing to share it.

Sadness permeated through his whole demeanor, and once more I bitterly wondered how much Touya's death had affected him.

"At least let some of our men accompany you"

Dad shook his head.

"Thank you but no. I will do it alone"

His gaze landed on me and it softened, my brewing resentment towards a dead boy evaporating like snow under the sun.

"I just needed to make sure Shoto was safe"

One of Teka's men ran to her and whispered in her ear.

"It's time to leave", she said

Dad nodded and walked to the ship's edge, his back to the sea.

"You'll see me soon again, alright ? Don't let your grandma boss you around too much"

Teka frowned.

"Who are you calling-"

"I'll be waiting for you," I said. "Just… send me a text or anything so I know you're alright"

I couldn't help the worry in my voice.

Dad frowned, smile dimming, then briskly walked up to me and hugged me tightly, burying his head in my hair like he used to do when I was a kid.

I hugged him with the same energy, trying to memorize him by heart as if I would never see him again.

If Jin Woo finds him…

"I love you", he breathed in my hair.

My throat was tight. I hugged him harder.

It felt like a farewell.

I let him go unwillingly and watched him as he jumped off the boat, Hell Flame activating instantly.

Teka and I, side by side, watched him until his fiery figure became a reddish dot then disappeared among the clouds.

She left to take care of some technical matters while I looked at the sky until I could not sense him anymore.

Teka gently squeezed my shoulder.

"Let's eat, shall we ? You look rather famished"

I nodded, letting her drag me away, though my gaze lingered to the last spot where I'd last seen him among the clouds.

I hoped for everyone involved that nothing happened to him, because I would go to hell and back for him.

*

A/N :

Monday's chapter I guess.

We are exactly 11 chapters from the end of Part 2.

Starting from now on, know that everything that will happen has been written and planned before I even wrote the first chapter of this FF (even though it has been heavily edited).

Part 3 especially is the whole reason I wrote this story and I'm freaking excited you'll soon get to read it.

So yeah, 11 chapters left here.

I'll probably drop the A/N soon so I don't break the story immersion but do comment, I'll read everything.

See you in the next update !
 
Chapter 242 - Retaliation
For a brief moment, the kid faltered.

Jin Woo's shadows seized the opportunity : they caught up to him, clasping around his ankles like handcuffs.

He squeezed.

Both he and his father exploded in a cloud of smoke.

Jin Woo stopped dead in his tracks, startled, eyes roaming over their smoky remains before he looked around, trying to find anything out of place.

There was nothing inconspicuous – or at least not conspicuous enough for Jin Woo to notice.

Wary, a ring of shadows burst from his chest and spread like a shock wave around him.

Except for himself, there was nothing and no one in a five-hundred-meter radius.

He frowned, his brain back-pedaling, trying to pick up on anything that could be interpreted as weird in retrospect.

When had he lost them ?

He was sure he'd never lost sight of them... had he been running behind this smokey creature since they left the prison ?

And what was this, anyway ? Since when did Shoto Todoroki have the ability to duplicate himself – or rather, to create illusory versions of him unable to sustain physical contact ?

Jin Woo couldn't be sure about the smell, but this doppelganger had a shadow, which meant it was material in some way.

The pace set had been punishing and, frankly, Jin Woo took great pride in his speed ; he'd just never expected to meet anyone who could outrun him.

His phone rang.

Jin Woo brought it to his ear.

"Yes ?"

Birds were chirping, the sun setting.

A beat.

"Nine ?", he asked, flabbergasted.

Nine had been one of the few privileged to get an expensive head bomb : he shouldn't have been able to get it off except if someone had helped him.

And from what they were telling him, the prisoners were grouping together with him as their leader.

He'd been a pain in the ass to catch and they still hadn't managed to fully unravel the secret of his Quirk : they couldn't afford to let him escape.

"Which direction ?"

Jin Woo gritted his teeth when he heard the answer.

Tokyo. Of fucking course it would be Tokyo.

"I'll intercept them"

He shot another glance around and disappeared into a pool of darkness.

*

"We've just received reports this evening that several prisoners have escaped from a maximum-security facility located just a few kilometers outside of Tokyo. Around thirty inmates, many serving life sentences, attempted the breakout. Thankfully, a military squad was deployed and successfully intercepted them before any contact with civilians occurred, resulting in zero casualties on the soldiers' side.

Initial findings suggest that recent volcanic activity has compromised the prison's structural integrity, leading to the escape. The sudden eruption of lava in various locations across Japan, particularly around Tokyo, has claimed around 2,000 lives nationwide. Experts are still trying to determine the cause behind this unprecedented volcanic awakening. Meanwhile, residents in high-risk areas are being evacuated as authorities cannot yet confirm if this is a precursor to something more significant or an isolated event."

*

Despite the cap and contact lenses, he knew he was still easily enough recognizable.

Two meters tall men were hard to come by, especially those who radiated heat as if they were living heaters.

Enji knocked on the door while looking around, trying to see if anyone may have spotted him.

His knocking turned to banging.

He didn't want to draw people's attention but he didn't have a lot of time either.

Footsteps echoed behind the door.

"Fuck's sake", Kaneki grumbled "I paid you Monday. What else do you f'ckin-"

He swung his door open, freezing when he realized who it was.

Behind him, Enji caught a glimpse of his and his son's face, both plastered on the channel news screen with 'WANTED' written in bold letters.

They'd used Shoto's mug – he was wearing the orange prison uniform, a bit of blood smeared across his cheek – and one of Enji without his Heroic costume, lest they send the wrong message to the population. Enji could count on one hand the number of times he'd been in Tokyo without his costume, which explained why the only picture they managed to get was one from a decade ago.

Kaneki tried closing the door but Enji's foot held it open.

"Oh hell no", Kaneki frowned, taking a couple of steps back "I'm not getting into this shit with you"

Enji raised his phone.

There was an ongoing call to the police.

A few streets away, police sirens wailed.

Enji stopped the call.

"There is no way you can make it out in time-"

Kaneki's face scrunched up in anger : he shouted, spit flying everywhere"

"You dumb fuck"

"-and you definitely won't be able to hide what needs to be hidden before they arrive"

Kaneki cursed because he knew Enji was right.

Kaneki dabbled in some rather dark matters even though he mostly worked for governmental agencies. They were happy to turn a blind eye to whatever he was doing but wouldn't put themselves on the line if someone discovered what he was up to.

He ran to an inconspicuous wall, pushed it aside, and grabbed a large, filled-to-the-brim backpack.

Enji moved aside when Kaneki got out, smoothly avoiding the cane that tried to smash his toes in retaliation.

Kaneki grumbled as Enji calmly followed him down the stairs.

"I've got a car", Enji said, gesturing to an old vehicle that no one would associate with him.

Kaneki frowned.

"I am never-"

Siren's lights hit the wall of his apartment building.

He cursed and slid into the passenger seat, Enji taking the driver's seat.

"If you go through the car pack there's another exit "

Enji nodded and drove.

After a moment, Kaneki said :

"As soon as I can I'm fucking off"

Enji smiled and drove them both away.


*

"Breaking news has rocked Twitter this morning as reports flood in about a daring prison escape. Among the group of prisoners attempting to flee from one of the most secure prisons in the world was none other than Shoto Todoroki. With the alleged aid of his father, both have vanished without a trace. While the public rallies in support of their actions, viewing them as victims rather than culprits, the government has responded by issuing an international arrest warrant for the fugitives"

*

BONUS :

Shirai watched the news grimly.

Everyone believed that the prisoners' evading was the result of one of these lava geysers sprouting in the basement and weakening the prison's structure – and it was to their advantage.

If it was known that one man had nearly brought Japan to its knees...

Shirai had always known that Enji Todoroki was a valuable asset, hence why he tried to control him.

Yet this – this was far beyond anything he could've ever imagined.

According to Jin Woo, Enji and he had merely fought for a couple of minutes, which meant Enji had triggered an apocalyptic-level event in as short of a time.

People like Enji and Shoto Todoroki were the perfect examples of why Quirk users should be monitored, and why there was no mercy when it came to Quirk users offenders.

A system of second chances meant leaving these people to their own devices after they'd already committed a crime mild enough to warrant prison but not enough for a death sentence, allowing them to grow stronger and more perverse.

Someone knocked on Shirai's door.

His secretary's head slid into the room.

"Sir ? I've got the data you wanted"

Shirai nodded and she briskly crossed the distance between them, handing him the casualties' report. Her ring caught the light, the flame drawing Shirai's attention for a mere second before he focused on more important matters.

Shirai's eyes roamed over the data, assessing and planning. Despite being persona non grata, he would keep doing his job and he'd do it well.

His secretary took a step back before a few of the other documents she carried fell on the ground.

"Apologies", she mumbled.

Shirai paid her no mind as she crouched next to him to pick up the scattered paper, slowly working her way to the back of his chair.

Thankfully the human toll wasn't that high.

The suddenly active volcanoes were a much more pressing matter, as were the number of damaged infrastructures. If they-

Two arms smoothly locked around Shirai's neck, pinning him to his chair.

His startled gaze went to the left where he tried to catch a glimpse of his secretary.

"Wh-"

"Our matriarch tells you goodbye"

She snapped his neck with a clean clack.

*

A/N : Teka may have been on the sidelines (because of Enji's wishes), it doesn't mean she didn't know what was going on - and she certainly didn't approve.

Shirai was her personal vengeance for treating her grandson badly.
 
Chapter 243 - Will
I had trouble realizing we were fleeing from Japan and that I'd probably never again set foot there.

The trip to Italy was quicker than I expected.

We stopped by Turkiya to replenish our fuel, and a couple of hours later, we arrived at Florence.

Kilometers lower, through my window, I spotted an orchard of orange trees covered in a thin layer of snow. It was a strange sight.

I hadn't been back in years, and the only time I was there had been summer : I was supposed to come back in a few months when it'd be hotter, yet here I was, looking at this place unlike a vacation one but rather as my new home.

Leaving so abruptly made me feel like I'd left unfinished business behind.

I'd never see my childhood home again, would never again go to Yuei, and wouldn't mentally complain about and judge all of my classmates during classes.

I'd find a way to corner Katsuki someday one way or another – or at least I would once I was sure he'd gotten over his little existential crisis.

Italy without Dad made me nostalgic.

It reminded me of the day he'd dropped me on her after Kenzei had died, and it was weird to realize that nothing much had changed since then.

I was certainly way stronger than back then, and I definitely wasn't – as much – of an arrogant little shit, but I was still the kid that had to be dragged over half of the world for his safety while his father did who knows what who knows where.

I heard Teka cough before the door to her private bedroom slid.

She sat in front of me right as the stewards finished serving a late breakfast.

Teka wasn't much of a talker and, thus, had left me for her bed right after dinner.

I'd spent the night in my seat, legs propped up and eyes closed, monitoring our surroundings, paranoia fully kicking in, imagining that someone would find us and try to shoot our plane down.

Being needlessly alert was better than sleeping in a small, caged room, and even the appeal of a comfortable bed wasn't enough to get me voluntarily in another enclosed space – or rather a smaller enclosed space than I was already in.

Teka greeted me briefly and drank a black coffee and I remembered thinking it must be as black as her soul, hence why she liked it, which made me smile.

Between one sip and the next she coughed

"Want me to take a look at your lungs ?", I asked.

She quirked a brow and I raised my hand, a faint green glow surrounding it.

"… it is merely a cold", she said, putting her cup down. "Though I wasn't aware you had other… abilities"

I shrugged.

"I figured there's no point hiding anymore what I can do"

All for One was out of the game and I'd defected from Yuei ; canon wasn't something I'd put any thought to for a while and that I certainly wouldn't even consider from now on.

Everything I had was the future and unbridled freedom.

A long time ago I would've felt exhilarated at the prospect of it yet now I found myself carefully considering my options and what I wanted to do with my life.

All paths were open : I could do whatever I wanted – as long as I pondered over the consequences of my actions and accepted to pay the price for it.

Earlier that night, one of my clones had popped : I had finally finished my greatest fuinjutsu project, the work of a lifetime, and from now on, no one would ever be able to threaten or hurt me.

Going against me would now be the equivalent of risking humanity's extinction.

"I figured", Teka said "that, because of your… peculiar mindset, you'd still be hell-bent on hiding your abilities"

I appreciated that she didn't pry – never did – and even though she'd had a hunch about my abilities close to a decade ago, she'd never pressured me to tell her anything, only giving me her silent support.

Even when I was a child – my still developing brain making me one even though I had twenty years of experience prior – she always treated me like an adult.

"Paranoia", I said out loud, grinning. "You can say it, you know. I'm not touchy about it"

Or rather I wasn't touchy because it was her.

It had been a while since I hadn't gotten a full-on paranoid crisis – except for my little freakout when I'd heard Keigo had been sent to Tartarus – and I felt rather proud of myself for it.

I was aware of my shortcomings, my blatant paranoia that had saved my life more than once, my violent outbursts that had brought more problems than I could handle, my arrogance that had stopped me from creating a lot of meaningful connections, and my selfishness that had made me destroy most of the few I had.

Yet I didn't want to stay as fucked up as I was and I knew that with time – certainly decades – and a lot of hard work, I could become someone my current self would admire.

In some way, Italy was a new chance for me to start everything anew.

"I figured telling a paranoiac that he's paranoid isn't always the best course of action", she said, and I recognized my shrink's words behind hers.

Scarcela, as I always suspected, must've sent her weekly reports of my progress – or lack thereof, depending on my fluctuating mood.

"Though we can both agree that it doesn't matter for someone aware of being one",

The shadow of a smile quirked her lip.

"If I may say, a healthy dose of paranoia in our line of work is equivalent to a healthy dose of self-preservation"

Paranoia and self-preservation : I'd always believed that in excesses, paranoia pushed me to do anything but preserve myself.

"Then it must mean I am ready to take over the family's business"

I'll probably start my training as soon as we land.

She merely finished her coffee but the way her shoulder sagged, the way her eyes sparkled, hopeful, made me realize how utterly relieved she was at this prospect.

For a moment I didn't see the strong and brash Teka I knew but rather only the old, tired woman she truly was.

There was a pang in my chest.

I reached forward, grabbing her hand on the table.

She looked up, startled, and nearly spilled her drink. Her hands were cold and worn out, battered by hardships and life.

"I won't leave", I promised. "Teach me all you need to and then enjoy your retirement"

She deserved it.

I squeezed her hand and let it go, settling back against my seat.

Her eyes were glassy.

She scolded her features, threw her shoulders back, and everything was gone.

"It won't be an easy road", she said. "There's a lot that you are not yet aware of... And you still need to win our men's trust"

I would've found it weird if they'd followed me only because I was their boss's grandson.

"Have you read any of the materials I sent you ?"

"I started but haven't finished yet"

I'd had a fairly good start on the subject but as I hadn't expected to need to go to Italy before next summer, I hadn't spent all of my time on it – and then, well, inmates weren't allowed to bring stuff from home.

"You still have the basics down concerning the Ndrangheta, the Camorra, and the Sicilian mafia ?"

The three groups that had shared power in Italy before Quirks' awakening.

"I do, though I didn't understand why they suddenly disappeared: they were already large and powerful and we were only civilians back then"

"That has to do with their preconceived notions of superiority", she explained. "The arrival of Quirks leveled the field but they were too engrossed in their archaic traditions to seize the opportunity"

Quirks appeared two centuries ago.

I wondered what kind of power our family had managed to accumulate from two centuries of domination : we owned Italy, yes, but most importantly we owned the men and women working for us as well as all of the resources found across our country.

She waved her hand dismissively.

"We'll talk about it more thoroughly in time. Let's finish our meal first"

We lapsed into a comfortable silence as we finished our breakfast.

"Do we do drugs ?"

She shot me an assessing glance.

"… indeed. May I know why this sudden interest in the subject ?"

"Merely curiosity"

*

Spotless and well-kept, the old room I'd spent a summer in was exactly as I'd left it.

Close to the bed's left foot was a smudge of blackened red, a reminiscence of the blood ink I'd stirred.

A few of the Sharingan's matrice designs – circles and gibberish writing that made no sense for anyone but me – I'd made were still pinned to the wall.

I scoffed while remembering how sick I'd been when I realized I was allergic to cheap, regular ink.

"Wise indeed to keep your room in the state you left it", Teka mused, looking at the pinned with fuinjutsu with interest.

"You know, I disliked you the first time I met you"

"Likewise"

I smiled, glancing at her though her face remained smooth and unbothered, her voice flat.

"It was difficult to feel otherwise when you wiped your steak-stained hands on our table-cloth barely half an hour after our first encounter"

I'd truly been an insufferable little shit.

At least I can be glad that the older I get, the less the lack of maturity of my brain plays a part in my actions.

Her fingers brushed what was the ultimate matrice, the one I used to make my sharingan.

"Seeing as you are not as secretive concerning your abilities as you used to be, enlighten me : was there any point to your scribbling ?"

"There was"

She nodded, and I expected more questions.

"I see"

She let go of the seal and walked back to me, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier.

"You 'see' ?", I prodded

"I was of the mind that there always was a reason for your actions and that you wouldn't spend hours locked up in your room scribbling nonsense. It is nice to see my suspicions confirmed"

She surveyed the room one last time.

"I will let you settle"

She left and I looked down at the few suitcases brought for me.

Dad and she had had the foresight to send someone to raid my room : everything I'd ever owned was there, and I patted myself on the back knowing that I'd hidden my weapons well enough that they hadn't managed to find them.

Otherwise they would've triggered the traps, and it wouldn't have been a pretty sight.

As soon as Teka closed the door, one of my clones appeared on the windowsill, arms full of ink, sturdy paper, and a cage full of rats.

He settled everything onto the desk.

Two other clones appeared in a near-smokeless puff and I sat at my desk while they organized my stuff.

I drew the seal I'd mentally configured in the loneliness of my cell, the one I'd believed to be the perfect one.

"What do you think ?"

I asked, giving it to him.

His sharingan spun to life while he studied the drawing, putting a small, transparent pouch of white powder in front of me.

I opened it, my nostrils flaring while I took in the delicious smell.

"Looks more promising than anything we've made until now"

I licked my lips, anticipating what was to come.

"Let's start with the experimentation", my clone proposed, dragging the cage of screeching rats to us.

I nodded.

"Let me just get a bit more before we start..."

*

"I would. I'd kill you"

Katsuki's amusement was fading, replaced by a dubious expression.

"If you stand on my path, I'll kill you. And I'll kill everyone else who'd try to stop me"


Katsuki had chalked Shoto's words to him trying to shock him.

Of course he wouldn't kill him – and of course, he wouldn't hurt innocent people.

Despite what everybody said, Katsuki knew Shoto, and Shoto wouldn't hurt innocent people.

Now he wasn't so sure anymore.

"I will ask you one question and one question only", said the police officer, face hard and fingers intertwined "There's is no point lying as I will know if you do"

Katsuki saw the looks of distrust and barely contained anger.

They'd handled him like a prisoner, shoved him into an interrogation room roughly. It'd been hours ago.

Katsuki rubbed his tired face.

There was dry blood under his nails and inside his nostrils, dirty knots in his hair giving his blond mop a reddish hue.

"Did you – in any way – help Shoto Todoroki escape ?"

The detective was tense, his muscles pulled, his eyebrows furrowed.

They'd been surprisingly delighted when they heard that Katsuki had taken care of Kai Chisaki.

This alone – their endorsement of his crime – had sent him into another whirlwind of confusion.

Why had they been relieved ? Wasn't it bad ? Why did everyone act like it was a good thing ?

Had Shoto been right, as always ?

"No"

Tsukauchi stayed still for a while.

Then a wave of relief overwhelmed him, and he leaned back, looking at the one-way window.

"Cleared"

Katsuki wondered if, had he been guilty, they would've forced him to give away the One for All before killing him.

*

It was late at night when she got home.

She'd been discussing all day long matters regarding a restaurant that would be integrated into a high-end hotel, doing her best to take her mind off what had happened to their youngest.

Like everybody else, they'd learned about his imprisonment last week.

Rei had been in her office's lobby when she'd seen the news displayed on the TV : her mind had felt full of cotton and her legs wobbly.

She'd sat on the floor, under her employees' bewildered gazes, knowing that if she didn't, she'd faint.

Fuyumi hadn't been much better. Natsuo, back in the US, had called to ask if he should get back home, saying he wanted to get back home, but she'd placated him by saying she'd speak with Enji first to see what was the matter.

She'd tried contacting her husband to no avail.

She even called Shoto's school to see if they knew anything but had been turned down, as she had no legal right over Shoto.

She grasped with utmost conviction the belief that whatever had happened to Shoto, his father would never let him rot in jail.

Her faith in her husband's absolute love for their youngest was the only thing that stopped her from hunting down Enji and pushing for more information.

Fuyumi and Natsuo hadn't agreed with her views and, despite their strained relationship with their brother, they'd argued with Rei, asked her to do something, anything, and that they needed to know their brother was sound and well.

Touya's fresh death sentence was still on their mind and, even though they did not voice it, Rei knew they feared that the same fate would befall their brother.

"I trust Enji", Rei had quietly answered.

If there was one person he wouldn't ever fail, it was Shoto.

That's why, when she saw the letter on her desk, she knew she'd been right to trust him.

She opened it eagerly and drank in the meager content as fast as she could.

By the time you'll read this, Shoto will have left the country.

Rei briefly closed her eyes, so overwhelmingly relieved she had to grasp the mahogany desk to not fall.

They will freeze my accounts to find a lead ; thus, from today onward, you are the sole owner of all of our accounts and real estate throughout Japan.

Rei's eyes widened.

Should the situation change in any way, here are my last wishes.

I trust you to carry them on.

- Enji


And to that, he'd added a copy of his will.

*

Bonus :

"He- he died ?"

"As I said", explained the soldier. "A riot broke out in the prison. Your uncle tried to use the diversion to flee with a bunch of other inmates. He refused to comply and hurt many wardens. We were forced to use lethal force"

None of the kids said anything, too stunned to speak.

The soldier's eyes slid to the little girl seated right beside the blonde teen and felt guilty even though he was only the bearer of bad news.

"Is she… ?"

The boy brushed his eyes with the back of his arm, trying to reign in the tears from spilling on his cheeks.

"She's his daughter, yes", he said.

He stood up, and the little girl followed.

"Sorry for taking that much of your time"

She grabbed the teen's wrist.

"Why is daddy not coming home ? You said he'd come back and he wouldn't- he wouldn't-"

A gut-wrenching sob left the little girl.

The soldier pursed his lips, nearly reaching out for her.

The teen leaned down, wiping away her tears, trying to smile even though he was crying.

"I'm sorry Eri, but Dad is not coming back"

Neito scooped her up in his arms while she started sobbing loudly. She buried her head in his shoulder and held on his neck for dear life.

Neito brushed his wet cheeks, fresh tears rolling down as soon as he finished his gesture.

Without a look for anybody else, they left.

*

A/N :

Three chapters left and I'm done with this fic.

Even though they're the shortest they're the hardest to write because I'm mentally tired of writing this fic lmao.

But show must go on.

See you in the next update.
 
Chapter 244 - Drug Addiction
"He's got cancer"

Sharingan on, I watched the rat squirm in a separate cage, my eyes focusing on him at a molecular level.

His cells were multiplying at a terrifying pace even for a cancer : the chakra in the seal was like corrosive acid, destroying his organs from the inside out.

And, from his little screams, it was painful.

"His body may simply not be strong enough to withstand a seal", my clone said

"Or the chakra input is too large", I said.

The matrice was good – I felt it deep in my bones.

Putting it on someone else was another matter entirely, so I was starting with rats. No one would complain if they died.

There was a knock on my door.

I smoothly rose from my bed, ordering my clone :

"Consider this one a failure and try with a lower amount of clones stored next time"

"Six clones ?", he asked.

"Five", I said. "Maybe lower. And give him something for the pain, too"

"Yes boss"

I opened the door, facing – unsurprisingly – Teka.

Her gaze glided over me to peruse my room-turned lab.

I knew she was getting used to my antics, having seen her fair share of clones wandering around the house to bring me this or that.

Now each time she talked to me she asked me if I was a clone.

"Time for the lesson ?"

"Yes, we-"

Suddenly, her nostrils flared. Her eyes snapped to mine, narrowed.

"Do you want me to showe- oww !"

Teka grabbed me by my ear and dragged me to my bathroom, her long skirts flowing like clouds behind her.

She kicked open the toilet's lid and pushed me on my knees.

"What the-"

Her slender fingers lowered my mask and shot up in my mouth while I was speaking, hitting the back of my throat mercilessly.

I grabbed the toilet bowl and threw up everything I'd eaten that morning.

Teka cleaned her slightly puke-covered fingers on a nearby towel, calm and composed, whereas I was glaring at her.

"Why did-"

"Drugs, Shoto ? Really ?"

She looked both in disbelief as well as sorely disappointed.

"I thought you would be smart enough to never try it, let alone get addicted"

"It's not like that", I said grabbing a hand towel to clean my puke-covered lips, avoiding her gaze. "I don't need it. I can stop if I want. It's just… it helps me a lot for training. I don't need to take as many breaks as I should thanks to it"

"You're reeking, boy" She hadn't called me boy in years. "This is not how a non-addicted individual should smell"

"I'm not addicted", I insisted, growing impatient. "It helps. It's for training"

Teka studied me for a moment, unreadable.

Smoothly, she spun on her heels and stormed out of the bathroom.

I sighed, rubbing my face with my hand.

And now my grandma thought I was a junkie. Great.

At first, I didn't pay any mind to the loud noises coming from my room. It must've been my clones.

Then I realized there was no reason for them to thrash my room.

I stopped at the threshold, my gaze roaming over the chaos.

My closet was open, drawers thrown to the ground, my bed in disarray.

My clones had stopped experimenting, staring in disbelief at Teka who, standing next to my bed, held the stash I'd gotten from one of our warehouses.

She looked me dead in the eyes while it burned to a crisp between her fingers, ashes falling to her feet.

"Don't tell dad"

She cleaned her hands on my bed cover.

"If you are concerned about what your father has to say about the matter, then you know this is not something you should do"

Her skirts brushed my legs as she walked past me.

"I refuse to teach you anything until you're not clean"

"I am-"

She shot me a glance, and I shut up.

*

I heaved, looking at her, tears in my eyes, and cold sweat on my brows.

"Did you- did you poison me ?"

My pounding heart sent thunder through my chest, burning pain flaring and receding, flaring and receding.

"I poisoned until the last crumb of drug available in this country. Your sickness is nothing but the consequences of your actions"

She's insane.

Poisoning that many stacks should've been nothing sort of ludicrous, and it was without considering the millions – if not hundreds of millions – she was losing in unsold, faulty products.

I threw up once more.

"Be glad that I am merely teaching you a lesson. Anyone else who knew of your addiction could've gotten you killed that way, and none of your great abilities would've saved you from dying. Most powerful man in the world or not, we all bleed red. "

She towered over me as, shaking, I couldn't muster the force to get up.

There was something sticky in my ear. I brushed it, looking down at my fingers. Blood.

Teka had no outward reaction. Was I hallucinating ?

"Can you..." I dry heaved. "Can you give me the antidote ?"

"No"

She turned on her heels and left me to my agonizing pain.

*

Three days of uncontrollable shitting and throwing up later, I was once more standing in front of Teka, fingers intertwined, chin on her hands, as she surveyed me.

"See ? Wasn't that hard"

I repressed the flare of irritation that shot through me.

She'd been right about the poisoning part, though. Back in Japan, anyone who could've figured I was always going to Léo would've been able to get rid of me easily.

Between my feverish dreams and vivid hallucinations, this had been what had given me a cold sweat.

I had a glaring weakness that I hadn't even accounted for.

"Did you tell Dad ?"

"Why are you always only concerned about what your father has to say ? I am disappointed too"

"Did you ?"

"No"

I deflated.

"Not yet, at least"

I tensed.

"What do you want me to do to make you not tell him ?"

"Isn't that obvious ? I want you to get rid of this addiction. None of our men will respect a leader so weak as to indulge in his own product"

I gritted my teeth.

"I'll do it", I said painfully. "I'll get clean. I won't ever touch drugs, not even with a ten-foot pole. Just… don't tell Dad"

Teka's glare was cold.

"Your body is stronger than the average human, isn't it ?" I nodded. "Good. You've got a week"

*

Was being held captive by an army of clones in my room a good experience ?

No.

Did I regret creating them to keep me inside, with orders to not let me out even if I threatened bloody murder ?

Yes, a lot.

Were chakra suppressant cuffs my greatest invention as of yet ?

It could've been if only I wasn't the only person in this world with chakra – though, despite my sickening headache and feeling as if I should unalive myself, I knew it had a lot of potential if used correctly…

"I swear I'm going to bring a fucking volcano to life if you don't give me a bit of-"

My clone snorted.

"Can we even do that ? I'm pretty sure we'd just make a lava geyser and kill everyone in a hundred-kilometer radius. We don't have Dad's fine control for pulling up volcanoes and making sure they don't blow up in our faces"

I still hadn't figured out how he hadn't blown up Japan accidentally even though he'd woken up every volcano on the island.

I banged my head on the door until I saw stars.

"Let.me.out."

The thin layer of blue chakra covering my room flared to life, intricate seals sparkling to life before disappearing into the walls.

Reverse-engineering a protection seal to make it a bubble prison was my worst idea ever.

"I swear I won't touch it", I said, licking my dry lips. "I just need… fresh air. That's right, fresh air. Let me out"

"No"

I hit the wall and the door rattled.

"Let me out !"

The withdrawal symptoms peaked at 72 hours.

If it weren't for the cuffs, I would've blown up the house.

*

"Are you feeling better ?"

It had been two weeks since I started my express detox, and four days since I'd gotten out of my room.

There'd been times when I was shaking like a leaf, suddenly cold, and others when I got so angry I could've murdered someone.

"Yes"

I still didn't trust myself enough to not suddenly run to get another batch, hence the two clones constantly flanking me, but as I hadn't yet, I felt like I was on the right path.

At least I hadn't tried running off. Yet.

"Can I take your word that you won't ever touch drugs again ?"

The first day, I'd been down so bad I hadn't even had the strength to brush my teeth with how much I was shaking.

"I won't"

A small, satisfied smile quirked Teka's lips up.

"Good"

She clasped her hands.

"Let's proceed with our lessons, shall we ? I'm sure you've had plenty of time to study the material I gave you"

"Indeed"

Only after I'd gotten over the resentment phase.

"As you must've read, Sicily gave the world the term 'mafia'. It became an umbrella term for all of Italy's underworld brotherhoods, including the Camorra and the Ndrangheta"

"They used to be called Cosa Nostra", I added.

Teka nodded.

"Indeed, though it is only with time that this title came to pass. These Honoured Societies were sworn, an occult sect of gangsters : they were born centuries ago and thrived in a country where the state had a fragile legitimacy and the citizens lacked trust in the government institutions. Blood seeped through the pages of mafia history, though there is a deeply ingrained code of honor among Mafiosi. Have you yet broached upon the various initiations ?"

I nodded.

Mafia bonds are forged in and for violence, only loosened when life ends.

"Then you must know the importance of blood, for blood is perhaps humanity's oldest and most elemental symbol, and mafiosi used to exploit it's every facet"

One of the lent book's quotes flew easily from my mouth :

"Blood as violence, blood as both birth and death, blood as a sign of manhood and courage, blood as kinship and family"

Teka looks agreeably surprised, and only for that, I was glad I broached my reading material late last night when I couldn't fall asleep.

"Though 'manhood ' is a rather outdated term, and not as relevant as it used to be. Depending on which mafia you found yourself in, women used to be treated with more or less contempt : some respected them because they were those that raised mafiosos offspring and could poison their children's minds as well as they could run their mouths and spill their secrets for vengeance. This is exactly what caused the three mafias downfall and what enabled our family to bring them to their knees one by one"

Teka paused, waiting for me to explain what had given us an edge in our war.

"It's the women, isn't it ? Quirks leveled the field, made genders equal in terms of raw strength. We took them in as much as we did men, and that's why we won"

She looked satisfied with my answer.

"It is the women, yes, but it is most importantly these mafia's inability to understand that it was the beginning of a new era : they couldn't keep up. Rather than working together when your late grandfather annihilated the Camorra, they rejoiced. Next was the Ndrangheta and, lastly, the Sicilians, though at some point it came close to mutual destruction"

"But I thought the Camorra were the ones who attacked us first ?"

"They indeed were gauging our abilities, pushing to see if they could disband and then add us to their rank. Your great-grandfather always planned to take over the underworld and unite it under his name, but the Camorra's attack enabled him to look legitimate when he took arms and ruthless enough that no one dared to cross him once he was done with them, killing two birds with one stone"

Teka gave me a book entitled 'Rules and social prescriptions'.

"You shall learn it by heart", she said "As my grandson your criminal apprenticeship will be a short one yet everyone's expectations of you will be higher than if you'd been a decade-old trainee"

I opened the book, my eyes gliding over the content : it held what to do and what not to do, how to address my fellow mafia members, the various positions one could hold among us as well as broaching on a variety of our activities.

Among drug dealings and prostitution (and various other unsavory topics) there was, unsurprisingly, murder.

This last section was the largest of all and yet I believed it was not exhaustive : various sub-sections included murder on our soil as well as foreign.

Surprisingly, members were strictly forbidden from killing anyone they hadn't been ordered to : if they did, they would be judged and 'dealt with accordingly' to precise rules after an inquiry as to who they killed, why they killed, and if it benefited or not our Honoured Society.

"When will be my initiation ?", I asked while perusing the book.

The divergences between our Honoured Society and the old ones were stark enough for me to consider us closer to a Private Military Company yet we were still similar enough to be a mafia.

"Six months, if you're lucky. Three if you show yourself particularly promising"

I nodded.

I hoped Dad would be back for the ceremony.

"Now get to work. There's still a lot for you to study"


*

BONUS :

There was a large board on which was pinned one picture.

Around, he'd written each ability he knew the man to be possessing.


Enhanced senses

Enhanced strength

Enhanced speed

Regeneration (minor ?)

Increased lifespan (immortality ruled out)

Minor telekinesis (need to have you in his visual field)

Black Lightning

Poisonous blood (see Shoto poisoned and captured Summer Camp)

Levitation

Air canon

Red protrusions

Minor teleportation (need to say 'swap')


"Are you really going to murder him ?", asked Kaneki

Enji's eyes settled on All for One's picture around which all cords gathered.

His gaze was cold, resolute.

"I am"

*

A/N :

I am ONE FUCKING CHAPTER from finishing this story.

Oh god I can't believe it's happening.

I'll update you once I'm through (+ new updates concerning the next FF etc).

Yeah, see you in the next update everyone.
 
Chapter 245 - Schemes
THREE MONTHS LATER

"Today our guest is someone we have all heard about and who has yet to make a public apparition : let's welcome none other than Dynamight !"

People cheered.

Katsuki steeled himself, plastering on a fake smirk.

Nezu had told him it looked more natural on him than All Might's megawatt smile, even though it made him look cocky.

While they might have aimed for an 'All Might' vibe, Katsuki still needed to stand out enough on his own.

"Thank you for having me", he said, shaking the anchorwoman's hand.

"None of that", Kameno said, her teeth a dizzying white. "We're among friends !"

She kissed him on the cheeks, standing on her tiptoes to graze his jaw even though she was wearing heels.

"Can you see how tall he is ?", she laughed, sharing a knowing smile with the public "The girls at Yuei must all been fawning over you"

Katsuki nodded, unable to find anything smart or witty to answer.

Nezu had told him to only answer smart or witty things, though if he had nothing to say he shouldn't go Endeavor's route (rude and unbothered) because they didn't want unnecessary comparisons between him and a former Hero now internationally wanted criminal.

So smiling it was, even though it hurt his cheek.

"I wouldn't know", he said. "I spend my time training or patrolling"

And girls didn't want to spend time with him.

Actually, no one except 1-A's students wanted to speak with him, and even they didn't do it often because of how snappy Katsuki had grown since… Only Izuku – and sometimes Kirishima because he was nice like that - dared to eat lunch with him, and wasn't it pathetic ?

Kameno playfully hit him on the arm.

"Can you see how studious he is ? Our country's future is in good hands with him !"

People cheered, and Katsuki's fake smile turned genuine.

Being a Hero was for him but also for the people who slaved at jobs they hated 24/7.

He'd bring them peace and faith in the future.

The interview rolled easily, Katsuki the practiced answers Nezu and him had prepared. When Kameno sneakily tried to bring the Todoroki into the conversation, Katsuki bluntly shut it down.

Two weeks go, Shoto had contacted him. There'd been a note on his desk.

Katsuki had read and burned it, choosing not to answer.

After the Todoroki's escape, people's opinions were equally divided.

Cynic supported them – Shoto was a kid and he'd been sentenced to a lifetime in prison through unlawful procedures – while realistic wondered why they hadn't bothered sneaking out Hawks with them. They called them selfish.

Then, once things died out, everyone remembered that despite vastly contributing to Tokyo's defense once the Nomus tried to overtake it, Endeavor had still quit after a terrorist attack without as much as a public statement. It didn't matter that All Might had done the same thing and had not even contributed that night.

Some were jealous of the hefty money Endeavor had given his former employees when most people could barely afford to pay for food.

More and more had turned against them, but it didn't matter because they'd left and wouldn't return.

Katsuki hadn't cared. There were still volcanoes erupting throughout Japan and, contrary to most people, he knew why there'd been this sudden outburst. It worried him.

Kameno smiled and leaned forward conspiratorially, teeth sparkling like jewels.

"But what everybody wonders about is : are you All Might's secret love child ?

Katsuki smiled, though it was strained.

His parents had begrudgingly accepted to play along with the 'All Might's son' scenario concocted by Nezu, even though it was what the country needed : a familiar figure with a fresh face, someone they could believe would be able to save them.

"My hair's spikier"

The anchorwoman laughed, and everybody else did too.

"What a cheeky boy ! Well, thank you for your time, Mr Bakugo, and hopefully we'll see you soon again !"

*
Teka coughed dryly, drinking her chamomile to soothe her sore throat.

Her lungs were burning.

She kept writing.

If only you could see him, you'd be proud of him.

The older he grows, the more he looks like you. Sometimes, when he laughs, it sounds unnervingly like yours, and I am left to wonder how come he had the laugh of a dead man.

He's smart and dedicated, and he commands our men as easily as you used to. He's made for it, just like you were, and he's ready to do whatever it takes to keep our family secure and sound.

He's not loud but there's a brashness to him, a quiet strength that fills me up with pride. It has been a while since anyone lived with me.

Would you understand if I told you that despite his cold demeanor, he's very lively ? His brain is always in turmoil, he's always two steps ahead of everybody else, going in and out of the house all day long.

I didn't realize I craved companionship until he skipped lunch one day and I had to track him down to the other end of the city – god only knows why fishes in his spare time when he told me he hated it – and drag him back home, giving him an earful afterward.

It fills me with happiness to hear someone else's footsteps – when he's not in the mood to spook me by silently creeping up on me – that's not one of the domestics. I enjoy our quiet evenings together : he's more like me about this, not as loud or boisterous as you.

You'd love him as much as I do.

And Enji...


Her fingers were shaking.

I just wish you were here.

She put her pen down.

"Who are you writing to ?"

She looked up to her grandson, wearing his black Kevlar uniform with metal chest armor and arm guards.

There was a tantô strapped to his back and though it seemed obsolete in a world where you could shoot someone, he managed to make it relevant.

"Have I not told you that appearing without warning will give me a heart attack one day ?"

He smiled – his eyes crinkled.

"I'm counting on that"

He took two steps forward.

"I successfully completed the assignment", he said, his eyes resting on the folded letter.

"Witnesses ?"

"None. I framed the Revolutionary group as you asked me to. What's this ? Is it for Dad?"

Teka pursed her lips, hesitated to explain herself. Not even Enji was aware of this.

"It's a letter", she said. "To your grandfather"

Shoto's eyebrow twitched though he did not ask the obvious.

"I started writing them a few weeks after he died", she explained. "It felt- feels – like I'm talking to him. It helped me get closure"

It felt as if he were close to her, leaning over her shoulder when she wrote, and she pictured him smiling or fondly shaking his hands at her words.

She put it in a manila envelope and put it in her lowest drawer under Shoto's curious gaze, among a hundred other letters. It was nearly full, she'd soon need to make room in a third drawer.

She clasped her hands, looking back to Shoto.

"Now tell me precisely what happened"

*

"You are the one who leaked the hangar video, aren't you ?"

Nezu froze, hands on the steering wheel.

He slowly looked up to the rear-view mirror where he met two cold, icy eyes.

He would've never thought Enji Todoroki had the guts to come back to Tokyo now that he was number one public enemy – or rather, he'd put it at a 15% probability of it happening, with him getting caught at an 80% level depending on the presence of his son.

Nezu's eyes swept to the seat next to Enji, and he nearly expected Shoto to be there too, but he wasn't. That didn't mean he couldn't be somewhere close, from a vantage point where he could monitor them.

"You gave it to All for One, and All for One used it to destroy my son's public image"

"I didn't give it to All for One", Nezu mused while trying to spot a mop of red and white atop one of the surrounding buildings. "He just conveniently found it when it was needed"

Nezu's schemes had brought light on Shoto like it shouldn't have happened, the starting point of Endeavor's name being dragged in the mud and All for One's obsession with his son.

Surprisingly it had all come back to bite Nezu in the ass when All for One gouged out Aizawa's eyes.

He'd been really annoyed with himself after that.

"I won't ask retribution for what you did"

Nezu showed no outward reaction but internally he was sagging with relief, glad he wouldn't be turned into a barbecue.

"But in exchange, I want you to do something"

Nezu had studied him extensively – as he did anybody of interest he crossed paths with (or not) and knew him maybe even better than he knew himself.

"Let me guess : you plan to kill All for One and need my help to find him ?"

Enji's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Nezu took the lead.

"You feel guilty for your son's death, and you think that if he'd never met All for One, he'd still be alive"

The vein popping on his forehead was enough of a warning to not push further.

This man could've single-handedly wiped Japan off the map and settled for a warning that had the government's officials shitting their pants. That's why, despite their boisterous claims, they hadn't put much effort into trying to find either of the Todoroki.

They'd thought the son was a monster, but his father was one in his own right : they couldn't handle two of them.

They'd hoped that by making them wanted criminals, it'd push them out of the country – but it hadn't. Not Enji, at least.

Nezu smiled, his little teeth glinting. Humans were so predictable.

"If you die, your son will murder us all"

Enji wasted no time denying it.

"Then make sure I do not die by telling me where to find a certain someone"

"Not All for One ?"

Nezu backpedaled his thought process.

"No, not All for One"

And they got to work, if only because Enji wouldn't leave until Nezu helped him, and denouncing him to the authorities would bring nothing but painful retribution.

*

A/N :

As of exactly half an hour ago I have posted the last chapter of this FF on my P@treon.

Yep, fist bumped the air and all that stuff.

Anyway.

I won't go all sappy here because that's not the time though you'll get too your own little last author's note + a special chapter dedicated to what we want to see in the next FF (and also I'm searching for native english speakers that would be my bêta-readers, so think about it lol).

I just wanted to say I had a blast writing this FF even if it was hard in the end, but I'm proud I did it.

Story ends chapter 269 + an epilogue and three bonuses sprinkled here and there in between Part 3's chapters.

I'm gonna take a nice, month long break now.

Keep on commenting on the chapters everyone, I'll read everything when I come back.

Also wish you nice holidays for those of you that are on a winter break, and, as always,

See you in the next update.
 
Chapter 246 - Made Man
I twirled the pill between my fingers, marveling at how it gleamed under the light.

"My first soldier pill"

Working on drugs to isolate the components that made me more energized and helped my chakra reserves get full faster had been a whole ordeal without me being able to try the drug.

I'd never been more aware of my shortcomings.

I threw it to my clone.

"Try it"

He did.

His chakra spiked, a sudden boost making him go from a measly 5% of energy up to 8%. He popped before I could fully evaluate how useful the pill was.

Clones were made with a set pool of chakra bestowed by myself.

More chakra - like pills - was akin to overwhelming their pool, which meant that they'd just burst like balloons.

"Synthesize more and try to see if there are any undesirable side-effects"

I'd have to try the pill myself at some point – as nobody else could – and hope I didn't die (or worse) from it.

But it was too useful, too revolutionary for me to abandon it for fear of testing.

Next stop on my list was my bastardized Hiraishin.

I shunshined all the way down the courtyard, between orange groves and flowery bushes.

A couple of my clones were working on a seal that would anchor my shunshin.

Shunshin worked like fishing : you used your chakra as if it were a string-thin rod, and then you had to use your hook to grab onto the place you wanted to get to. This was the anchor.

Once the anchor was well set, you pulled, and the chakra string guided you to your destination at breakneck speed.

I had theorized that shinobi must've been able to break other people's anchor, cutting the chakra strings with their own, but no one in this world could see my chakra, and there were even fewer people who would be able to break my link to my anchor.

Here the goal was to combine two things : the high speed I was able to get to in dire situations with a seal-based anchor that would allow me to 'pop up' anywhere as long as my seal was there.

Problem was, the lack of a proper chakra string linking me to my anchor made transportation more difficult. I felt the pull but wasn't compelled to follow it and could lose the lead if I wasn't properly focused. I also needed to follow the laid road while spinning and turning to avoid obstacles on my path (like people or places), least I left a trail of blood behind me with every pseudo-Hiraishin.

Furthermore, the high speed I was traveling to – my own speed, far better than the shunshin-induced one – meant I had to go from normal to 300% in a split second.

This kind of shift from unmoving to unnatural speed was stark enough that a few of my bones could break in the process if the pull of the anchor didn't tear me in half before.

That's the point my clones were at : each time they tried the pseudo-Hiraishin, they ended up torn in half at the waist, no matter if they'd activated the anchor-seal while running or sitting, or if the distance was barely a couple of meters between location A and location B.

I wouldn't be able to spawn out of thin air like the Fourth, but it'd be close enough that it wouldn't change a thing.

Still, I wondered how Tobirama managed to create a seal that was – certainly – akin to pure teleportation.

Hiraishin was a space-time jutsu ; I was cheating my way out of it by using pure speed, whereas Hiraishin's speed was but a consequence of compressing space (from what I could guess) in such a way that you looked as if you appeared somewhere else at high speed.

One of my clones popped up, his memories hitting me suddenly.

Teka was sitting behind her desk, hands clasped, a myriad of crystals around her.

"It has regenerative properties", she explained. "I had someone infuse healing energy inside"

Even though it was a second-hand memory I could feel myself as weirded out as my clone had been, wondering if she truly was an old witch after all.

"It is good for your health and skin"

She looked slightly grayish, and both my clones and I wondered if we should tell her it seemed it had the opposite effect.

Her eyes snapped open, icy blue narrowing on me.

"Considering the lack of answer", she said. "I assume you are but a mere doppelganger. Tell Shoto we are to leave, it is time for the initiation"

I perked up.

"And dad ?"

He asked because he knew I'd ask.

"He's busy", she said. "He said he'll come soon but wouldn't be able to make it"

I held back my disappointment in favor of my relief that he was alive and well, if only because he'd told Grandma he couldn't come.

The time in between each of the news we received was nerve-wracking, and if Teka hadn't been actively trying to keep me busy here by giving me assignments, I'd have left to get him back long ago, be damned respecting his wishes.

"I'll meet you at the front door in five minutes"

I felt my clone pop, and the movie-like memories ended.

I shunshined to the front door, and a few moments later, off we were to Sicily.

*

Thinking that the Honoured Societies – or sworn sects – were anything but a bunch of violent, highly organized groups, was false.

There was nothing good in the mafia : romanticizing it was pointless, as was trying to see it as something 'good', an independent group that would fight for the rights of the majority.

It is a clandestine sect of opportunistic murderers, not unlike the military.

Fraternity is its core value : mafia members belong, they are brothers and sisters who have sworn their lives to each other until death do they part.

I have extensively studied the origin of the mafia, as per Teka's demands, and I know for a fact that our traditions are utter lies.

Old mafias used to see themselves as groups with dark, mysterious origins.

The Camorra assembled a myth of its Spanish origins from whatever cultural flotsam and jetsam it could find.

We repeated the pattern, gave the Todoroki founder a larger-than-life aura, twisting in some lies that gave him a mythical presence, said his wife had a foresight gift, and had predicted his ascendance as a Mafia Lord.

With time – it had been more than a century and a half since our family came into power – the fake legend grew true, and who is to say that our founder's first wife didn't have foresight, as our family truly supplanted every other ?

Facimmo cacciaor, 'Extract gold from fleas' has always been a consensus among the various mafia groups, and that's exactly what our family did.

We used civilians when they saw them as nuisances, we used women because they underestimated them, and we took advantage of the political unrest not to squeeze every penny worth out of the population but rather to squeeze the population herself until we got our own little militia.

They chased the money and we chased the men, because Quirk-enhanced individuals were worth their weight in gold.

Sicily had been the last stronghold. It was why we were here today.

"Avanti" Come

The voice boomed against the dark cave walls.

A small hole atop let the moonlight in.

It was barely enough to see yourself and your surroundings, but my eyes were not that of normal people.

I took a step forward and a man in his early thirties did the same.

We both had knives in our hands.

"Inizia" Begin

It wasn't a fight to the death, it was a ritual.

We jabbed, dodged, our knives clicking against each other, sparks flying where we made contact.

I drew blood first, red drops falling from a superficial cut on his shoulder.

Polite applause came from the shadows.

We nodded to each other and he took a step back, vanishing in the darkness, whereas I stayed in the middle of the cave, waiting.

Right at the junction between the lighted circle and the shadows was a crucible. The picture of the Madonna of the Annunciation was inside.

With the bloodied knife that had helped me win my fight, I cut my palm, my blood mixing with that of my brother-in-arms, falling generously on the saint's face.

I grabbed it and raised it so that the light shone on it.

"I vow my blood to my brothers, my life to our cause, my soul to our familia. I refute the traitors, I will murder who stands in our path, I bequeath my existence to our matriarch"

The saint's picture caught fire, crumbling until dust between my fingers, ashes falling on my hand.

Torches flared simultaneously around me, a circle of fire lighting up the various faces surrounding me, and I knew it was Teka's doing.

She walked up to me, regal in the mafia's uniform, metal chest plate and arm-guards on a dark crimson, nearly black, uniform, a long, black coat billowing behind her, gray fur encasing her face.

I kneeled, head lowered, reverent.

She held a burning metal plate engraved with our family's crest, an eerie flame that looked as if it was moving depending from where you were watching.

"We hard and we accept"

She put it on my left biceps, but everyone here knew it wouldn't leave a mark - I'd have to get a tattoo like she did.

I waited the perfunctory ten seconds quiet ; if you screamed at this point, you were out.

I wondered what burning felt like for normal people - I couldn't remember a time when I hadn't been immune to it.

"Rise"

I was now a Made Man.

*

BONUS :

He'd been to I-Island a few times already and each time had been more baffling than the last.

The island, a pure product of wealthy people's – Governments and Military Private Societies included - need to conduct illegal experiments on neutral grounds, had turned into this humongous gathering of scientists from all over the world.

You could've been sentenced for illegal, unlawful, unethical human experimentation in twelve countries, as long as you made it to I-Island you'd be a free man who could rub shoulders with the cream of the crop scientists and no one would bat an eye.

Having one or two countries hot on your heels was the equivalent of a green card here.

This was a lawless place, an island lost in the Pacific that only maintained its independence from every other country in the world because everyone benefited from the product of the experiments.

As long as it did not happen on the grounds of your home country, it didn't happen at all : you had plausible deniability about how the weapon you'd bought had been built, and you could still use it to wage war elsewhere.

The scientists, as well as their families, lived in their own little world, shut from reality, not caring if it was the fifth or sixteenth world war because they made as much money when it was peacetime so why bother ?

Hence why when Enji, getting a tailored armor ordered by Nezu and that he alone could pick up because they needed to make adjustments once he'd tried it, had heard there was an ongoing conference about his son, he'd been more than a little baffled.

The room had been one of the largest on the island, packed to the brim, so much so that people had to sit on the ground.

He'd watched countless scientists especially coming from Africa, Europe, South America, China, and Russia to expose theories about how one individual was able to wield 'so many Quirks'.

Some argued that his body may be the reason - and they used a lot of data to prove their point. One even argued that 'a certain sturdiness is present among the Todoroki lineage. I've been provided by one of my benefactors with both Enji and Rei's Todoroki's DNA, the subject's biological parents, and can assure you that a scion able to wield both of their Quirks simultaneously is one in a billion occurrence. This goes on to show how special the subject is, and how strong his organism is to withstand two very opposite Quirks'.

A German one argued that it wasn't about how many Quirks he had, but rather what were Quirks to begin with.

He'd sparked another discussion tangentially, and a few people had mentioned 'The Origin of Quirks', some calling it foolish, others saying it was baseless.

That's only when they started comparing his son to Nomus that Enji had left.

He'd been on a boat shipping him to Japan – something inconspicuous, with a few of Nezu's 'friends' indebted to him with adequate Quirks to make sure no one would follow him – when he'd received a call.

"Yes ?"

Talking about the wolf…

"I found the girl"
*
A/N :

Couple of last minute important notes :
1 - If you want to apply to become one of the two beta readers for my next FF, send an email to narcissefanfic@gmail.com

You have until 19th January before I start weeding people out (in a very nice, no pressure involved kind of way) with a trial test of grammar correction, a couple of questions etc (and no it's not a job, I just want people that can bring something to the table and help me get the incoming FF to the next level).

Write what is your pseudo on the website you read the story on so I can get an idea of who I'm talking to.

There are a couple among you who've written me great comments/analysis/questions throughout the story and that I'd like to see apply, but that's a choice you have to make on your own (be sure you have the time for that kind of stuff etc).

2 - I'm taking a break but the story will keep on getting updated, don't worry, I'll program chapters in advance and check from time to time that stuff's going well.

3 - Didn't think I'd need to say it again but for those of you who'd like to finish the story in one sitting (and not read what's left in 1 month and two weeks) the story's P@treon is Nar_cisseENG

Thanks for all of your nice comments everyone, and as always see you in the next update.
 
Chapter 247
"Happy birthday"


My eyes narrowed.


"You're three months late, Dad"


It was the beginning of spring, snow long forgotten.


I was atop the stairs like I'd been years ago when he returned to fetch me and get us home.


Now there was no home to go back to that wasn't here.


He walked up to me, and I remembered how he'd carried me around proudly.


"Wouldn't my old bike be enough to make up for it ?"


I perked up. He chuckled.


"You're growing more alike to your grandmother than I'd like to"


I frowned. The old witch and I had nothing in common.


"How so ?"


"Your grandpa… Dad used to buy her gifts when he had things he wanted to atone for. At some point she made a game out of it, refusing to see him if she did not like what he got her"


Knowing her, nothing short of a diamond mine or a small country she could be the dictator of would've been enough.


"It's nice to see that I can buy you too"


He squeezed my shoulder and my chakra flared to life, shooting up his resting palm and scanning his body in a split second. Perfect condition.


"I'm glad to see you", he said, eyes softening.


"You can't buy me", I said. "And I'm glad to see you too"


I'm glad you're alive, but I couldn't say it because it would've soured the mood.


At last, he'd shaved correctly and I could see in his demeanor that whatever bad mood he'd been in when I last saw him was long gone.


"Enji"


His gaze turned sharp, and his eyes snapped to hers. She was standing a bit more on the left and behind us.


"Teka"


I swiftly moved to the side so I could see them both.


"I'm glad you did not forget the way back home, though we could've done with more frequent messages concerning your whereabouts"


I did not miss the way her chin subtly pointed towards me.


"Worrying you needlessly wasn't my intention", he said, shooting me an apologetic look. "I tried to update you as often as I could but it wasn't easy"


"It's alright", I said. "I- we just didn't expect you to be gone for so long"


Two weeks had turned into a month had turned into an indefinite amount of time before he suddenly told us yesterday that he'd needed to get back home.


I'd spent my time debating over whether or not I should sneak back to Japan and find out what the hell he was up to but Teka had convinced me to stay by telling me that I should trust him.


I did trust him. It was other people that I didn't trust.


And thankfully for everyone involved, he came back to me sound and alive.


"Shall we speak ?", Teka cut us off sharply.


There was neither the cynic playfulness I'd grown used to seeing in her eyes nor anything that looked as if she was relieved to see her son.


She was ice cold, all sharp edges.


"Of course", Dad said


She spun on her heels and I barely took a step forward he stopped me :


"Your grandma and I need to discuss some things together. I'll see you once I'm done with her, alright ?"


I did not hide my bewilderment.


What was there to talk about that I wasn't privy to ?


My eyes trailed behind Teka who'd already disappeared inside the house.


"We'll celebrate your birthday properly once I'm done. I even got you a present"


I knew he knew I didn't care about any present whatsoever but I still played along.


"It better be a good one"


His face brightened, his lips quirking slightly.


"Thank you"


His answer wasn't about the gift either.


*


"I refuse", said Teka, unapologetic


Enji inhaled, nostrils flaring.


"That is not your choice to accept or refuse. I will do it, with or without your consent"


"You can't possibly do something so foolish", Teka snarled, fire burning in her blue eyes. "I raised you better than-"


"You didn't raise me", Enji snapped. "Dad did. You were a shitty mother"


There, he'd said it. It had taken him twenty-five years, but he'd finally said it.


It had the advantage of shutting Teka up for a second, however brief it was.


"I had a family to keep alive", she said, tone clipped. "A legacy to uphold. An empire to expand"


Enji rolled his eyes.


They'd had enough money they could've just lived off it over fifty generations, enough power that without expanding no one would've dared to risk their ire.


Like every Todoroki before her, Teka had chosen ambition over family, and despite despising her for it, Enji had done the exact same thing.


Teka averted her gaze from Enji's.


As always, bringing in his father subdued her. He didn't do it often because it hurt him as much as it did her.


"Have you thought of your son ?", she finally asked.


Anger spiked in Enji's chest.


He wasn't her : of course he'd thought of Shoto.


He held it back in favor of a more fruitful conversation.


"That's the only thing I do these days", he said quietly. "He's the reason I came back"


Teka shook her head, lips pursed.


"If you die-"


"If I don't do it, I'll truly be dead inside"


"When Shoto-"


"Mom, please"


The word alone chilled her to the bones, whatever she was about to say dying in her throat.


He hadn't called her Mom since his father had died.


A myriad of emotions flashed through her eyes. She turned away, hiding her face from her son.


"… very well"


Enji bent forward and slid a letter on her desk.


"I'm just taking precautions. For all we know, he won't ever read it"


On it was written Shoto.


*


"How come we both hate fishing but we still find ourselves doing it more often than we should ?"


Dad laughed. I was serious though.


It was early March. Flowers were starting to bloom yet it was too chill for people to swim.


We were alone except for a guy taking out his dog at the other end of the beach.


The sea was sparkling under the midday sun. The weather wasn't too bad, and the low clouds pierced by the sun made it look like a painting.


We walked down the rock pier, choosing the same spot we used years ago, where Dad's father had taken him when he was younger.


Sitting at the end of the pier, fishing rod firmly held between two rocks, I grabbed a sandwich and started eating, and Dad followed soon after.


We always ate like two black holes, and I found it funny that I now could keep up with him and even eat more from time to time.


"Grandpa Todoroki would've been proud", I said


Dad looked nostalgic.


"He would"


I pictured him like I always picture Dad, arms crossed, patient, waiting to catch me when I inevitably fell, but with dark hair and maybe green or black eyes.


"Maybe one day you'll take your son or daughter fishing with you and you'll have the same conversation we're having"


I frowned.


"I'm too young to have kids"


And despite making peace with them, I still wasn't fond of the gremlins population.


"I had my first child at twenty-four"


"That's a teenager pregnancy"


He laughed.


"I'm sure you'd make a great Dad" I doubted it. "Better than I ever was"


Now I seriously knew he was trippin'.


"Tell me what you've done when I wasn't here"


I talked to him about grandma, my training, the few 'assignments' I'd be sent to as well as my latest Fuinjutsu project, how I could seal clones, why it was groundbreaking news, and how I was trying to tweak a basic seal that would act as a shunshin anchor to make a bastardized version of the Hiraishin (though I didn't say Hiraishin because he wouldn't have known what I was talking about).


He listened intently, chin down, eyes lost in the moving sea beneath our feet, a peaceful expression on his face, and my Sharingan flared to life to capture the moment before disappearing as suddenly.


"Grandma's obsessed with making an album photo I'd be the sole subject of. She got me playing with blocks as if I were three years old"


I'd drawn the line when she asked me to wear a onesie.


He smiled while I ranted some more.


The sky and the sea were of the same color, a deep blue that melted at the horizon and merged into each other, making it look as if both were a continuation of the other one.


"Hey"


"Hmm ?"


"I was wondering... your lightning. How did you figure it out ?"


I hummed, trying to remember what it had felt like.


My approach to elemental ninjutsu had been vastly different than what it should've been for anyone else, as I already had fire and water (ice technically but it was the same) in their pure form to my beck and call.


"Lightning and fire are similar in some ways. Both phenomena involve the transformation of energy. Fire is the result of chemical energy in fuel being converted into heat and light through combustion. Lightning is the result of electrical energy being rapidly released, creating light and heat in the process. I figured that if I wanted lightning, I could use the electricity produced naturally by my body but at a bigger scale"


It was a bit more difficult than what I made it sound like, but it was roughly what I meant.


"This sounds rather..."


"Convoluted ?"


I smiled. "It is. Pretty sure you could manage it, though"


After what he'd done with Japanese volcanoes, I had trouble thinking of anything that could pose any problem to him.


He hummed, and we quietly watched the rolling sea.


"Why do you want to be strong ?"


I smiled.


I'd half expected this question, even though he'd only asked it two other times in my whole life.


"Because I want to protect those I care about"


There was no point in being strong for the sake of being strong, no point in being strong if you become a selfish asshole.


I'd tried both, and either I got the crap beaten out of me or I'd lost people I now regretted not having by my side.


"It took you seventeen years but you finally got it"


I smiled.


"Yeah"


There was a small breeze that ruffled my hair.


It was getting long enough for me to put it in a half bun, and I liked how the shorter parts framed my face.


"You know, when I die..."


I rolled my eyes.


What was the problem with parents always talking about their deaths in the most inconspicuous moments ?


I didn't get what they were trying to do by making you envision a world where they wouldn't be in when all your life you'd only known of one where they existed.


"You won't die", I cut him off.


He frowned.


"I will. Everyone does"


"Yes, but you won't die today or tomorrow, you won't die suddenly"


Not if I had any say in it, and I had a say in it, no matter that I had no way to thwart death.


"You'll die of old age, at two hundred years old or something"


And Teka would be there to bury us because she'll outlive us all.


"Shoto-"


"Except if you commit suicide"


He stilled. I didn't look at him.


Saying it out loud made it all the more real.


Each time he'd postponed getting back to me, I'd worried that it was because he'd finally mustered the courage to do it.


Quitting his Hero job wasn't a fluke, and neither was his self-imprisonment in his room. If I hadn't forcefully fed him half of the time thanks to genjutsu, he wouldn't have made it.


There were a lot of things I could prevent, but he was the only person I couldn't save him from.


"But you won't, will you ?"


Despite everything, he'd gotten out of bed for me, he'd forced himself to face the world for me, he'd done everything he could to save me.


And in the end, after three long months of dreadful waiting, he'd finally come back, for me.


I'd been enough.


For the first time in my life, I'd been enough.


"I have to go back"


And everything shattered.


"When are you leaving ?"


"I'm not going to… I'm not going to kill myself, Shoto"


Wasn't that exactly what someone going to kill themselves would say ?


My hands tightened on the fishing rod.


"When ?"


"Tomorrow morning"


The warm air turned crisp cold, and I couldn't help it.


I looked at the bait going up and down, up and down.


"Take me with you"


"No"


"Why ?", I snapped. "Whatever it is that you're doing, you know you'd have better chances to achieve it with me there"


If he didn't want to face his suicidal tendencies, fine ; I wouldn't ignore them for his ego's sake.


He snorted.


"Let me remind you that I took care of both you and I when you were still a brat who couldn't walk straight"


"I'm an adult now", I pressed. "I can help you"


I would, even if he didn't want me to.


"You're sixteen-"


"-seventeen-"


" -and you can barely wipe your ass correctly. I'm not taking you with me, end of the discussion"


I frowned, stung.


"So chasing villains and murdering people is alright, but helping you is getting out of line ?"


"Yes"


I exhaled.


"Dad-"


"Do you remember what I told you last time we were here ?"


It may have been close to a decade ago but it was as clear as if it'd been yesterday.


By that point, I'd already started seeing him as my father, but it was this exact discussion that cemented him as the man I knew would always have my back, no matter what I did.


It was that discussion that made me realize how much he mattered to me.


"You're my son. I will always have your back. Nothing you could do will ever change that fact", he quoted.


And it never had, even when he realized I'd lied to him for my whole life, even when I was the reason his name got dragged through the mud and people talked about him as if he'd been a corrupt Hero, even when we had to flee Japan and left twenty-five years worth of life behind us.


He forgave again and again and again and never asked for anything in exchange.


"I remember"


"I want you to extend the same courtesy to me"


It was too much – or was I too egoistical to share what I'd been given ?


"Dad-"


"Trust me, Shoto" He'd never been so serious, his gaze burning with resolve. "I will come back to you, no matter what it takes. But before, I have something to finish, alone. Have faith in me"


I wondered if I could trust his judgment. I feared that he was undertaking something impossible.


Something was tingling in the back of my head, I was uneasy about this whole conversation - I knew my paranoia was kicking back in full gear.


"If I don't do it..." His voice broke, and it hurt. "I can't. I have to. I need to"


I didn't know what 'it' entailed, but I knew deep in my bones that if he didn't, he'd never be able to get out of the dark hole that had threatened to swallow him whole – that still threatened to – the hole that I'd be scared he'd jump in for the last three months.


The man next to me could pretend all he wanted, he was but a shell of my father.


There was a gloominess about him, something dark that made him silent when he would've spoken, a faraway expression in his eyes when he was quiet.


I wanted Dad back. I didn't want half of him, I wanted him whole, I wanted him willing to live.


If he didn't do what he needed to, he'd never be the same, and I couldn't bear it.


If I forced him to say – and I could, I had the strength and the abilities to – he'd resent me, he'd never be the man he used to be, and I couldn't bear it.


I caved in.


"Just… come back, alright ?"


He smiled, and it was supposed to be reassuring, but my stomach was in knots my skin was clammy, and his confidence felt faked, as if he didn't know what he was getting in.


"I promise"


His arm curled around my shoulders and he dragged me to him in a side hug.


I fully turned and hugged him fiercely, catching him by surprise.


My fingers brushed the back of his neck. Chakra seeped from it, painlessly searing itself into his skin. His hair hid the seal.


"I'll be back in a few days", he said when we let each other go. "I just need to finish this and then it'll just be you, your grandma, and I, alright ?"


I tried to believe him but found that I couldn't.


*


Dad left the next morning.


We were all in the courtyard, Teka, our men and I standing in order while we said goodbye. It felt like I was back in the cave, about to prove myself worthy and become a Made Man.


Dad was taking more time leaving than he should, putting his bag in the back of the trunk, looking around a bit, and then saying he'd forgotten something, running back home and coming back with one of Grandma's many photo albums.


Their goodbye was stiff, like everything between them.


He turned to me, and something shattered in his eyes.


"You know that I need to do it, don't you ?"


It was what was most painful.


"I do"


He hugged me harder than he usually did, and I thought I felt something desperate seeping from him.


"I love you", he said, breathing in my hair like he used to do when I was a kid, like he hadn't done in years.


I was acutely aware of everybody listening to our conversation and felt slightly awkward.


I'd never been one to profess their affection to somebody else, and I knew Dad wasn't either which made it all the more significant when he did.


I hesitated, choosing the cowardly answer – like always.


"I know", I said, smug.


He laughed.


"Cheeky brat"


He let me go.


Asking for another hug would've been too childish, and if I was to command these people one day I had to act the part, so I didn't.


The driver opened his door : Dad took a step back, his eyes roaming over our house – truly a mansion – greedily drinking in the sight.


He nodded to Teka, and looked at me one last time, hovering longer than he usually would've before getting inside.


It was only when the car left that I realized that I'd never, in my whole life, told him I loved him.


I resolved to correct this mistake the next time I saw him.
 
Chapter 248 - To Hell
Enji ate, and he didn't consider that it could be his last meal.

He slept, and he made no fuss about the poor quality of the bed.

He rose before dawn, showered with icy cold water to make sure he'd be fully awake.

He stretched, and then he ate breakfast.

Kaneki shared his meal. They were both silent, though Kaneki glanced at him from time to time.

There was a book propped up on Enji's knee, and Kaneki thought he'd seen pictures on the pages but hadn't been quick enough to see what it entailed.

Enji closed the book, pushed it aside, and focused on his meal.

He was fully focused on the fight ahead, reviewing every scenario he'd planned with every ability of All for One accounted for.

"You don't have to do it"

Enji didn't look up from his plate. Kaneki insisted.

"I don't know what you're trying to prove, but-"

"It's not about proving a point", said Enji evenly

He'd only come back yesterday evening from who knows where, and since then he'd been so aloof, so collected and focused that it chilled Kaneki to the bones.

Enji looked like a man willingly walking to the gallows.

"Then why ?"

He didn't answer.

Kaneki's lips thinned.

He'd been on the run because of Enji and yet he didn't deserve a proper answer.

Finding the girl had been hard and took longer than they'd both expected, but in some way, it had been a boon because it had enabled Enji to prepare better to deal accordingly with All for One.

Kaneki feared that if they'd found him quickly, Enji would've jumped on the opportunity of a fight without another thought.

At least now he was prepared – or as prepared as he could be.

"Listen, I-"

The door to the next bedroom slammed open.

A teenage girl with messy hair walked out, yawning loudly.

She grabbed a chair and sat at the table with them, helping herself to breakfast as she eyed Enji.

"Cake ?", she asked, pushing white locks away from her face. "Didn't know it was the kind of food you had to eat before a fight"

He grunted as an answer and kept eating his chocolate cake.

She didn't mind because they weren't close and she didn't give a shit about what would happen to him.

In a few minutes, she'd be as free as possible, with a new identity and so much money she wouldn't know what to do with it.

She'd go to school like everybody else. She wondered if Yuei's festival was as great as she'd heard.

They finished eating.

Kaneki stopped pestering Enji : nothing and no one would stop him.

The teen raised her hand expectantly to Enji, one hip cocked.

He gave her the blood vial. She frowned, disgusted.

"I'm never gonna get used to it", she muttered as she opened the lid. "Piece of dead skin or even teeth, I don't mind, but that is just gross..."

As soon as her fingers grazed the red liquid her eyes turned fully white, her hair floating above her face.

Enji smoothed the city's map and neurotically held the corners down as if any of this would help.

She'd tracked All for One every day since they'd gotten a hold of her, and this was just a last confirmation about his whereabouts before Enji got to work.

"Here"

Her nail stopped on a side street of Nemuro, in Hokkaido. They were in the same city.

He had barely moved since yesterday evening.

Enji checked if he had properly put on his gear, and if everything was where it should be.

The girl had already left in a cab for Tokyo. Kaneki hovered nearby, watching Enji helplessly.

"You should get going", he said. "It's gonna get ugly"

*

At the other end of the world, Shoto and Teka were having dinner.

It was a warm evening and they'd decided to eat on the terrace. The sun was setting, stars like white dots in the sky.

Teka sliced her bloody steak.

"Starving won't bring back your father faster"

She took a bite.

Shoto rested against his chair, arms crossed, a black, short-sleeved top showing a dark red flame tattooed on his left shoulder. Red was exclusively for their family.

"I've got a bad feeling about this", he said

Teka brought her wine glass to her lips. She quirked a brow.

"Then do something about it"

He frowned.

"You won't stop me ?"

She took a sip.

"Of course not. You are to be our next patriarch. Your word will be law. If you want to follow your father and see what he is up to, that is your choice"

It would ease her mind, too, to know there it would be the two of them against him.

One couldn't live so long without having a few tricks up his sleeve, and she was worried for her son.

Shoto rose as if he'd only waited for her approval to do something.

"I can get another of our planes ready in an hour or so"

Shoto's lips quirked upwards.

He had taken off his mask like he used to each time they ate together, and she always made sure no one else was there during their meals. He didn't bother putting it back on.

"We were worried you'd try to keep us here..."

She frowned.

"You're not Shoto, are you ?"

This time he downright smiled.

"The original left this morning"

*

Shoto was on a commercial plane above China.

He had neither passport nor ID with him – not as if it would've changed a thing – and had worked his way there through astute use of Genjutsu.

He'd stolen somebody's bag to look ordinary and had boarded the first flight he could find after Dad had left.

The sun was barely rising, and the horizon lit up as if it would catch fire. He'd be there in an hour or so.

He closed his eyes, smiling when his clone back home with Teka popped, the memories flooding his mind.

*

He was resting on the beach, looking at the rising sun with wonder, sipping a cocktail peacefully.

The upside about this whole ordeal was that he'd gotten vacation for the first time in, what, two decades ? Lazing on the sand was great, especially when you had nothing better to do.

He'd kept healing, stole money from unaware locals and blended in the crowd with the face of an ordinary young man that wouldn't attract attention.

He'd started reading again, too. He'd been an avid reader half a century ago but lost the habit with time. It was something he needed to pick up again, because books were food for the brain – that, and Quirks enhancing intelligence.

He'd been reading 'The God of Rain', a book about a war child forced by circumstances to cultivate a monstrous power to avenge his fellow countrymen disposed of like cattle by foreign nations who saw their territory as nothing more but a playground where they waged wars.

If he-

His senses went haywire.

He jumped to his feet, cocktail falling from his hand and splashing his ankles, book burying itself in the sand, trying to pinpoint the threat-

Something smashed his head from above, scorching fire burning up from the tip of his hair to his scalp.

He flew across the beach like a rag doll, skipping over dunes like a ricocheting rock.

He twisted and managed to spin mid-air, feet leaving deep trails in the sand as he came to a stop.

He-

The earth rumbled, a deep sound similar to a gurgle.

All for One threw himself as far away as he could ; a geyser of lava erupted from the ground right where he'd been, drops hitting his back, burning his clothes and cooking his skin.

All for One swallowed heavily.

He only knew of two people who could do that.

He skipped around as lava spurted kept spurting from the ground indiscriminately.

A shadow covered his face : All for One looked up.

High in the sky, hovering among the clouds like a wrathful god, was Enji Todoroki, his skin as transparent as glass, his blue eyes glowing ominously.

He fell as if his wings had suddenly been cut, a bird shot down from the sky.

His eyes lost the eerie hue, his organs faded from view behind a skin that grew thick and opaque.

Regardless of his Quirk being neutralized, he landed without a problem, gaze strained on his opponent.

The ground was hot, lava was pooling on the sand, hisses and vapor coming from where it met the sea.

All for One, while assessing Enji, frowned, trying to pinpoint the location of the other Todoroki.

Both he and his father felt like beams of light that you couldn't extinguish, so bright that he always knew when any of them was close.

He could feel no one else besides the father and even his presence was faint, hidden behind the overwhelming heat oozing off the boiling ground.

He raised his hands in surrender, floating above the ground, not willing to start something he couldn't end :

"I do not wish to fight"

Enji stilled.

Regardless of Shoto's presence, fighting Enji was as good as a death sentence : one, his body was so broken he wasn't sure he could win.

Two, if he did 'win' his son would hunt him down and kill him in the most painful, excruciating way possible.

Backing down was his only option.

"Too bad that I do"

All for One didn't show anything but he was growing increasingly more frustrated.

"Whoever tasked you with getting rid of me", he drawled. "They want you dead. Neither of us will win anything by fighting"

All for One wasn't used to talking people down from fighting him : usually, he was the one who listened to the pleas and decided he didn't care.

"No one tasked me with anything" He pulled a long knife from his front pouch. "This is between you and me"

He was truly grating on his nerves, yet he knew Enji Todoroki – out of all people on earth – was the only one out of limits.

Messing up the smallest strand of hair on his infuriating head was as good as a death wish.

So All for One did the second best thing he could do and that wasn't murdering his opponent : he ran away.

He spun on his feet with the might of a tornado, a whirlpool of sand shooting up because of his sudden gesture, energy gathering in his body :

"Swap"

And he swapped with a sand grain a hundred meters away, his energy getting sapped faster than it should've.

"Swap"

The wind hissed in his ears as he high-tailed the fuck out of there. His auto-regeneration only started kicking in, his burnt back healing slowly, his scalp getting smoother.

"Sw-"

A lava wall shot from the ground between two dunes, and All for One abruptly stopped, feet screeching on sand-turned glass.

Lava veins covered the ground around him, pulsating as if they were alive.

It effectively cut him off from going to the city, too. His only path was either backtracking or the sea, and going anywhere near water when your opponent was someone who could boil your organs was not viable.

All for One inhaled slowly, resigned, turning to face Enji Todoroki.

He wouldn't kill him, but-

Where was he ?

The ground cracked between All for One's feet and he was forced to move back, now sandwiched between two lava walls way too close to each other.

It was hard to breathe. His eyes were dry, and he felt the urge to blink.

Trying to pinpoint Enji's location was nearly impossible as the man had the presence of a volcano but was effectively hidden by the lava.

All for One's feet left the ground, his toes grazing glass as he floated.

Flying was energy-consuming but if he-

An arm shot through the lava wall.

Steel reflected in All for One's wide-opened eyes.

He moved his head sideways, the threat of the lava walls hindering his movements, feet effectively leaving the ground exactly as something awfully heavy wrapped around his ankles, dragging him down.

The blade grazed his right eyebrow.

His protection field was finally activated.

The blade was repelled, flying off the hand that had held it and through the lava curtain.

The ground cracked between All for One's feet, chunks of sand and glass falling into a growing pit.

All for One's eyes snapped to the previously extended hand. It had disappeared.

Above him, the tip of the lava curtains collapsed, hitting each other as intensely as two tsunamis colliding.

He tore off the wire wrapped around his ankles, two large disks that, for all reason, shouldn't be that heavy, at the end of it.

He burned his hand when he touched them, gritting his teeth to bear the pain.

He shot one glance upwards and jumped in the crevasse as the lava filled everything between the two curtain walls.

It followed him in the crack, falling too fast to be fully avoided : bits of his melted flesh fell like wax all around him.

The lower he got, the hotter it was, and the harder it would be to safely get back to the surface.

All for One's feet grazed a rock : it was half molten.

He sprang up diagonally to the crack he'd been falling in previously, creating a new path in the malleable ground. His shoes caught fire.

His forearms covered his face.

The molten rocks were as much a blessing as a curse : it cooked his skin yet the ground was supple enough that he could break through it easily enough.

All for One broke ground level, shooting out from the lava floor like a loose canon ball.

Fresh air hit his bloody skin – or what was left of it – with the might of a thousand needles.

He fled higher and higher, no matter how energy-consuming it was.

It was either healing properly or flying away, and healing meant he'd soon get new scars and that he'd spent energy for naught.

He stilled and spun, gauging the destruction brought by a madman.

His breath caught.

For miles in every direction, the beach was nothing but boiling lava speckled with glass and black rocks where it met the sea.

The vapor was so thick it looked like fog, hovering over the water, a heavy curtain above the sand and slowly drifting towards the coastal city.

Bubbles were bursting at the surface of the sea. Cracks were spreading throughout the side streets leading to the beach, lava bubbling in the pits.

All for One's red eyes roamed over the destruction with fascination.

They'd barely fought – in a measly three minutes, Enji Todoroki had turned upside down the landscape.

Greed lit up his eyes, despite his instincts telling him that it was an awful idea.

He wanted that Quirk for himself.
 
Chapter 249 - To Hell pt2
All for One's crazed, bloodshot, manic eyes, snapped to the titanic lava hand shooting up from the ground.

First a fist, the fingers unfold, a gigantic hand reaching to grab him.

Fiery red rocks were held tight by luminescent lava veins, which twirled from the fingertips down the growing forearm, spreading in the flat, burnt ground, like roots.

The forearm grew with the might of a skyscraper sprouting from the soil, the open palm a canon ball rising higher and higher.

All for One barely escaped in time.

Scorching air caused by the lava hand's movement hit All for One like a burning tornado, drying his eyes.

He blinked repeatedly, horrifyingly in awe of the gigantic hand. Lava pulsed beneath the skin, red and fiery yellow that looked like blood.

He'd never seen anything like that.

The forearm swayed to the left, the palm attempting to grab All for One.

He flew back, let the fingers brush right past him.

Some of the rocks making the structure were on fire.

The arm twisted abnormally, elbow spinning 360° so that the fingers, previously facing the blackened beach, were now facing him.

All for One flew around, dodging the hand that snapped and jolted and made to crush him.

It wasn't only large and dangerous, it was also fast.

Wind swished in his ears.

He tried to catch a glimpse of the ground in between two thick vapor clouds that were scattered by the giant hand moving around, yet whitish fumes coming from the hot sea quickly filled the holes.

Enji must've been down there, controlling the hand from the ground.

The lava hand shot past him – he'd sidestepped it easily.

It may have been fast but its movements were rather primit-

A shadow loomed over him : All for One shot back as fast as he could as the hand closed on him.

The wrist – had it been a man's – would've broken from bending down flat against its forearm.

The hand was an uncoiling snake, snapping decisively to swallow All for One whole.

He flew faster, and the extended fingers lost ground on him before they suddenly elongated, growing meters longer in half a second.

The hand fastened on All for One.

He was encased in a dark prison, the very air so dry it felt like drinking fire, his skin sandpaper and his eyes like they were hot charcoal.

The fingers smoothly transitioned from catching to pulverization.

Black lightning exploded from All for One's chest like a sonic wave.

The lava fingers disintegrated, blasted away, burning rock crashing like meteorites all over the beach and sea.

All for One shot off the destroyed hand, his skin blackened.

Ashes were raining.

Black smoke billowed from the titanic hand, not merging with the whitish vapor under but rising to form ominous clouds.

The rising sun could not pierce them.

All for One coughed, still flying.

There was an ominous crack, and then, in front of his dumbfounded gaze, the hand rekindled herself.

Lava blood went from the ground up the glowing forearm to the broken phalanx, lava tendrils – then pillars, then fingers – replacing the previous appendages.

A booming noise echoed throughout the beach.

Lava hands sprouted like mushrooms, a monstrous forest of gigantic hands shooting to get a hold of All for One.

He flew around like a bullet, his protection field activating to save him from the direst situations.

There were too many of them, and he was getting tired.

He needed to find Enji and-

A fist flew past All for One's head.

He'd dodged it thanks to pure instincts.

He spun, grabbed the fist that would've hit him, burnt his hand in the process, and-

It wasn't Enji. It wasn't even a man.

The thing before him was a humanoid made of pure, fluorescent lava.

It exploded right between his hands.

All for One disengaged and flew back, his skin painfully melting over his brittle bones, burnt chunks dripping to the ground. Beyond his wrists there were no hands left - only bare, pointy bones, cooked flesh sticking to some crannies, blood gushing out of his stumps.

He cursed and focused first of all on healing his eyelids and eyeballs, praying that it hadn't damaged the eyes.

Similar knights rose from the top of the lava hands, jumping on All for One simultaneously.

All for One tore through them with his lightening, one hand hastily mended to fight them while he focused on the thinner parts of healing his eyes. Breathing ragged, he was forced to heal the damage he suffered to stop them from killing him even though it was energy-consuming.

They were not sentient creatures ; they had no eyes, no mouth, no ears. This meant that the one controlling them was Enji, and for him to do so he must've been able to see them.

All for One left himself be thrashed by the lava knights, flying as far away as he could and noting in which direction the knight pushed him.

After a few more exchanges, All for One had a rough idea of Enji's location.

His lightning-covered hand went through the lava creature's chest as if it were butter.

He burnt most of his hand but it was still usable.

All for One spun around, faster than ever before, and shot through the lava pillars.

Lava knights tried to stop him, but smaller, longer hands shot up from the lava forearm to grab him.

He went through everything like a bulldozer, refusing to leave Enji enough time to flee.

And right then, All for One rounded a corner behind one of the largest lava forearms and locked eyes with Enji's.

Vicious glee shone in All for One's eyes ; aloof and collected Enji locked gaze with him.

His skin, previously transparent, visibly cooled down as All for One negated his Quirk.

He took a step back. All for One smiled, jumping the distance separating them in one fell smooth.

Enji raised his arm, as though he wished to protect himself, yet his face remained undisturbed.

That's when All for One saw the glinting gun in his rising palm.

Something in the back of his head tingled.

If Enji Todoroki bothered to bring a firearm to fight someone well-known for being unaffected by bullets, it wasn't a blunder.

All for One came to a screeching halt, smile fading from his lips, feet leaving deep trails in the burnt ground.

"Sw-"

Enji shot at near point-blank range.

"-ap"

All for One reappeared half a meter away, the pain stopping short his escape attempt.

There was a gaping hole between his cheek and his mouth.

His skin, badly burnt, had been obliterated, speckles of flesh and blood on his nose and jaw, half of his teeth now enamel powder on his tongue.

Torrential blood flowed down his throat.

There was a gaping hole in the back of his neck, inches from his spine. He could feel the unnervingly hot breeze rushing inside him.

Enji calmly aimed and shot.

This time, All for One flew to the side, panic pumping his heart, blood rolling forward and mixing with the ashy bones in his mouth, bubbling and spilling from his tightly closed lips.

The bullet obliterated the ground where he'd been.

The hardened black ground cracked, shards flying everywhere. Then the ground broke, collapsing as if it'd always been hollow, a large hole opening on a boiling pit of lava.

All for One's eyes snapped to Enji's – he'd disappeared.

Letting him direct the flow of the fight had been a bad enough idea the first time : now that All for One knew what kind of demonic weapon – and where did he get it ? I-Island ? - he possessed, he couldn't let him hide and fight with his minions until Enji shot him down when he was focused on something else.

Already, the lava hands were coming to life once more.

All for One ground his teeth and chased after him in between the rising pillars – lava forearms.

A lava knight shot up from one of the forearms, detaching itself from its surface like molted wax coming to life.

A beam of black lightning shot from All for One's palm, annihilating everything above his stomach.

The creature fell to its knees but lava tentacles shot from the forearm, wrapping around him and filling the missing parts.

The hole at the back of All for One's throat finally closed.

He didn't bother with his cheek – he couldn't afford it.

"Todoroki !", All for One shouted, rage burning in his eyes.

Countless other lava knights were detaching from forearms.

All for One braced himself and shot up to the sky, wind swooshing in his ears, ground cracking behind him.

He flew higher than the half-reformed hands, laser-focused on spotting-

There.

All for One shoot at an angle right as a hand tried to grab him and the lava construct collapsed behind him with a splash.

The lava knights turned to red puddles.

Enji, half buried inside one of his lava pillars, spotted All for One and moved away right as his construct fell between them.

All for One abruptly stopped, forearm hiding his face from the burning drops whereas he squinted, trying to catch a glimpse of Enji.

A lava curtain was rising from the fallen pillar.

All for One flew like a rocket through it, spinning desperately as he did so to thwart off most of the lava, emerging from a cloud of vapor like a demon.

Enji's eyes were cold.

He raised his gun, and All for One broke his wrist.

The gun fell with a wet clatter.

Enji did not utter the slightest sound, though his heart thundered in his chest.

He stepped back, left hand going for his pouch, and All for One slapped his hand away, breaking his arm as easily as he would've slapped an insect.

Jolting pain darted from Enji's wrist to his shoulder.

His adrenaline spiked.

He saw everything in slow motion.

A bead of sweat rolled down his eyebrow to his jaw, glinting as it fell and hit the ground.

All for One's muscles looked in pain as his arm extended, twitching under burnt skin. A rivulet of blood ran from his shoulder to the cusp of his elbow, and it felt as if it hummed like a river.

His skin was filthy, badly burnt and molten. There was a gaping hole right next to his mouth, fleshy skin threads hanging precariously from his cheek, moving like fluttering curtains before bloody gums.

His blackened palm sprang open, fingers opening wide.

Goosebumps covered Enji's skin.

All for One's nail grazed his chest.

And then, right in front of Enji's eyes, All for One's hand fell on the sand, cleanly cut.

Enji's breath caught.

All for One turned ash white.

"Chidori"
 
Chapter 250 - To Hell pt3
Lightning crackled, a thousand birds chirped, blue light flashed across All for One's terrified face.

A mop of red and white stepped in between him and Enji, hiding him from All for One's view.

There was a deafening boom. Shattered glass flew everywhere.

Enji barely managed to catch two flashes – blue and red – that flew in the sky, colliding against each other, separating and meeting again, the sound of mountains clashing echoing with the might of a thunderclap.

Someone was standing before him.

"Shoto ?"

The boy – as tense as a bow - glanced at his father over his shoulder.

"I'm just a clone, Dad", his eyes crinkled. "Security, if you'd prefer"

Enji frowned, trying to wrap his head around the hows and whys.

"How… ?"

He could not even formulate properly his question ; he didn't even understand where they'd come from or why they chose to appear now.

Was it some spell or magic alarm that Shoto put on Enji that'd make these clones spawn when he was in danger ?

"Ah..." The boy rubbed his cheek sheepishly. "I'm not sure I'm supposed to tell you that. Boss wouldn't be happy if I did"

There was a thunderous boom, more powerful than the previous ones, then the blue flash was shot down from the sky.

It rebounded on lava hills, left deep trails in the ground as it came to a startling stop right next to the first clone.

It was another Shoto.

There were two Shoto before Enji, none of whom were his son.

Close 2 assessed Enji's condition – his eyes were red, spinning, contrary to the other.

"He's hurt", he groaned. "Heal him"

His eyes snapped to a reddish hill far away, eyes locked on something Enji couldn't possibly spot.

Clone 2 disappeared as fast as he'd come.

He zigzagged between titanic lava pillars that looked like extended arms, frozen fingers reaching for the sky, so fast he did not leave an afterimage.

All for One was half-crouched, wheezing, red eyes locked far ahead on Shoto and his father.

The hair on the back of his neck shot up.

He spun around, black protrusions shooting up from his chest as a crackling Chidori went through them like butter.

The high-pitched lightning screams turned murderous as Shoto pushed forward.

He hit All for One's collarbone, and skin and bone instantly turned to mush, blood wetting both their faces.

The blue light reflected in his eyes, highlighting his sadistic glee.

Shoto dragged his hand downwards, carving a path of crushed flesh and destroyed bones to his heart.

All for One reached for his arm but as soon as his right hand came in contact with the glowing, crackling orb, it was obliterated.

The pain did not even register : only sheer panic.

His protection field kicked in once more, yet too late to preserve him.

Shoto was flung backward, crackling orb in his palm following.

The boy, understanding what was happening, shut his fist close.

Previously stable, the orb lost focus and exploded in a sonic blue wave. Unstable bolts whacked wildly around, as if lions let loose, hitting everything around it.

Lava pooling on the ground was roused by the sheer energy, bubbling and rising slightly, agitated.

All for One grit his teeth as the first bouts of blue electricity hit his burned, torn, broken body.

Black lightning hovered over his skin, acting as a shield against the unstable energy, yet not fully able to keep it at bay.

"Listen !", he hissed through gritted teeth. "I do not wish to-"

Lava burst like a tsunami from under Shoto's shoes.

All for One cursed and flew back, senses tingling.

He felt as much as he saw lava rise from the ground, reaching to him like greedy hands to snatch.

All for One Shot upwards, the lava tentacles growing higher, Shoto hot on his heels, Hell Flame in full force.

The lava tentacles turned to lava arrows ; they shot at breakneck speed.

Air gathered at the door of All for One's mouth, a small, compact ball that grew denser with each passing moment.

It swished as it flew out of All for One's lips, cutting the very air, and letting hurricane-worthy winds in its wake.

The lava arrows lost consistency, blown away, lava sputtering sadly hitting the ground.

Clone 2 had already shunshined atop the palm of the closest lava hands to All for One.

Sharp ice knives appeared in his palms and he bounced forward when All for One was at giant wrist level.

They clashed repeatedly, lightning and hurricane colliding, black clouds full of ashes rolling dangerously over their heads.

Clone 2 didn't call over a lightning storm because he had to conserve energy and he was already wasting enough as it was.

All for One couldn't afford to let this fight go on longer, couldn't afford to fight in his condition, yet Todoroki had sought a fight that he wasn't allowed to back down from.

All for One's stolen eyes may have not worked on Shoto, but he was still able – how, he couldn't explain – to tell when it was the boy he was fighting and when it was one of his doppelgangers.

He'd noticed precisely when they'd spawn out of Enji's neck as if hidden in a dimensional pocket under his skin for this very moment.

Whether he won or lost, All for One was doomed.

He knew that if he killed Enji, his son would hunt him down to hell.

He knew that if he fled, Enji would ask his son to hunt him down to hell.

Either way, he was doomed, and he didn't even understand why.

He hadn't been so distressed in decades.

The only option he had was to gain an advantage for their next encounter and hightail as fast as he could before the true Shoto got here.

And, he thought grimly as he took the deformed beach, there was only one thing he could get his hands on that could make this fight worth it.

Farther away, Clone 1 worked on Enji, green glow encasing his hands as they carefully brushed against his broken wrist.

Enji, at first very still, relaxed when he realized there was no more pain.

"He's buying us time", Clone 2 explained, now working his way to the broken arm. "We have to leave right now. I'll seal the place, and then the other can-"

"No"

Enji's answer had been categorical.

Shoto - because even if it wasn't him, something in Enji stirred when he saw this painfully familiar face – frowned.

"This is not a negotiation"

"I am your father" Sort of. "And if I say we stay here and we fight, we'll stay here and we'll fight"

The clone carefully assessed the situation, noticing how tense Enji was.

Shoto – the original – had put a seal locking two clones in Enji despite knowing that it wasn't stable and could lead to premature cancer.

To avoid this issue, he'd greatly lowered the chakra ratio of both clones sealed : the one fighting would have 15% of his chakra, and the other one – the one made for getting their father as far away as possible from danger – a measly 10%.

Their instructions had been very clear from the start.

Enji healed, clone 2 raised his hands, placating.

"As you wish"

He encased himself in a notice-me-not genjutsu, drawing blood from his thumb with a quick snap of his teeth.

Enji's eyes glided over him, dazed, looking at the sky where dark clouds shone blue and then red.

He could not spot any more trails of bright light.

He hoped – despite knowing that it was not his son – that Shoto would be alright and... Did that mean that when one of them disappeared, his son would know instantly what Enji was getting to ?

His eyes snapped to where he knew Clone 1 was, but as soon as he spotted him his eyes grew glazed. He looked away, any thoughts concerning him forgotten.

Clone 2, crouching, drew bloody symbols on hardened sand-turned-rock.

Using his own Hell Flame to get up there would've been foolish ; with one look All for One would've cut off his energy supply and he'd have fallen stories, forcing Shoto to save him and advantaging All for One.

Thus, Enji did the only thing he could : he picked up his gun.

Lava bubbled around him, humming as if it were a living creature, pooling and twirling gently around his ankles.

Even among Todoroki, he'd always had a peculiar knack for lava bending.

The lava creatures were Enji's innovation ; whereas Teka saw big – like the gigantic lava arms sprouting from the ground – Enji saw smaller, more efficient, and less energy-consuming.

It was still very taxing on his body, but his high-tech suit had been made specially to sustain extreme heat and cool him down. Vapor was oozing off him like a mushroom shooting off toxic spores.

Clone 1, unbeknownst to Enji, had shunshined away, leaving him momentarily alone.

Enji, veins throbbing on his neck, braced himself and raised his hands.

The beach stirred, the charred ground rumbling.

Leagues above the previous ones, a crack spread from his feet and horizontally across the beach, opening a window on the underworld for hundreds of meters in a moment.

He'd end All-

A barrier made of blue light encased the fighting zone in a cubicle.

Inside, All for One flew to a wall as soon as he noticed it rising.

It closed before he could get out. He screamed angrily and punched it, the shock turning momentarily transparent the spot he'd hit.

He rolled on the wall to avoid Clone 2 impaling him on an ice sword, air cannon blasted from his mouth simultaneously to push him away.

Outside, Enji's eyes barely widened before Clone 1 caught him unaware and snatched him away.

The world blurred, black and red then nothing.

His stomach lurched forward as he was unceremoniously thrown to the ground.

Hands and knees on the ground, he dry heaved over smooth sand, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. Shoto had moved him around a few times, but it had never been for so long – or so fast.

There was a poof, and white smoke billowed around Enji.

When he looked up he noticed he was alone and kilometers away from where he'd been fighting All for One.

He clenched his fists, fire flickering on his cheekbones.

He'd spent months carefully planning this fight : who was his son to exclude him from what was rightfully his ?

The beach made a U curve : the charred band was at the tip, glowing ember in the early morning.

Enji's skin was transparent, his organs incandescent.

A meter-wide crevasse opened between his feet. Sand farthest from him turned to glass, closest to obsidian.

Lava rolled and thundered in the rift.

He spread his senses, focusing on the volcanic eruption he'd been close to making at the other end of the beach. He saw a path, right beneath the sea floor, a bridge that would bring him where he needed to be.

Enji jumped in the crack, willingly destroying his cooling suit.

He'd been prepared to sacrifice so much more to kill All for One.

At the other end of the beach, clone 2 was doing its best to keep All for One from breaking the barrier while charging it.

As soon as he'd felt his fellow clone flash away with their father, he'd stopped all pretense of fighting and started powering up the barrier.

All for One had felt the shift and realized that whatever was coming, he wouldn't survive it.

He hit the corner of the blue prison – what should be its weakest point – with everything he had until he realized he wouldn't get out that way.

Then he'd started chasing the doppelganger around, interrupting him whenever he put his hand on the blue wall and closed his eyes, some kind of weird energy shifting from his body to the prison.

He was growing paler and weaker whereas the barrier grew stronger.

All for One knew that once the doppelganger vanished, he'd been done for.

He chased him around with the manic obsessiveness of a cornered dog with nothing to lose.

He didn't spare any energy, didn't stop to consider his injuries : he attacked, attacked, attacked.

He'd managed to corner the clone between a gigantic, still lava arm, and a wall. The clone's fingers brushed the wall before thousands of circles with weird symbols appeared on its surface.

All for One's desperate last air cannon was unnervingly larger and more powerful than any of the previous ones.

The clone didn't move, taunting, his whole body losing colors and consistency, like a washed-out painting.

He-

The clone's widened eyes snapped to the left.

The seals disappeared right as All for One was blown away by a lava-clad Enji.

"Thank you for your concern", he drawled, not looking away from All for One's prostrated form. "But I never asked for your help"

The clone protested weakly.

"Dad-"

"Don't worry, Shoto"

Lightning crackled all over Enji's skin, his hair floating above his face.

He looked above his shoulder, sending his son a confident smile.

"This time I'll be enough"

The last clone popped.
 
Chapter 251 - To Hell pt4
Note : The scenes concerning Shoto are a beat off from Enji's : you can get an idea of what he's doing and when thanks to the clones popping up. There are minutes only between the present (Enji) and the 'past' (Shoto).

And both clones popped a couple of seconds from each other, not even a minute passing by.

All of the events are happening extremely quickly.

*

Volcanic lightning is a byproduct of particles spewed by an erupting volcano.

As they interact, they generate static electricity that produces powerful lightning bolts.

No one among the Todoroki had ever theorized the possibility of them mastering such an ability.

It was Shoto's use, and how much he favored the element over his fire or ice, that had given him this idea years ago, but he never had time to put it into practice.

Enji had turned the beach into a gigantic lava pit. Dark smoke was rising from crevasses, billowing around the giant hands. Ashes were snowing from the sky.

All for One was stunned, spread on the ground, muscles twitching, lingering lightning crackling over his skin.

All for One may have possessed a lot of Quirks, he never mastered any of them – the same went for his lightning. Catching him by surprise meant you could get the upper hand.

A loud, roaring noise that grew more intense with each passing second emerged a hundred meters away.

Enji looked up. His eyes locked with that of a camera hanging from a helicopter. So it was from that that came the rumbling noise he'd been hearing for a while.

Certainly the local police – or news – trying to understand what the hell was going on.

Enji braced himself and flashed forward, a blur to the world watching him.

*

Shoto's clone popping jolted him awake from a half-slumber.

He took in everything his first clone had been doing – trapping All for One in a barrier, taking his father away – with apparent calm, yet his fingers dug holes in the armrest.

Then all of the personal TV screens of passengers turned on simultaneously, people groaning as the crude light hit harshly their eyes.

They all got a front-row seat to the news flash live footage.

In big, bold, red letters was plastered : "ENDEAVOR FIGHTS ALL FOR ONE"

A helicopter was circling above a charred beach, titanic, monstrous, incandescent hands as tall as skyscrapers jutting from the ground, palms open toward the sky in supplication or as a threat.

There was something eerie about the place, abnormal in an unnerving way.

The helicopter's light went from All for One's bleeding, half-beaten form and Enji's, glowing, clothes torn apart, a gash above his eyebrow, breathing heavily.

And there, right in front of him, was Shoto.

He popped, disintegrated in a cloud of smoke on live TV.

Shoto, on the plane, blinked, processing everything quickly, finding that he either wouldn't have activated the seal if his father was in the vicinity, cursing himself for not managing to get him fully out of the way.

Whatever he'd done to get back to the burned beach so quickly, Shoto hadn't been aware of this ability.

Around him people were waking one after another, talking fast and loud, increasingly nervous. Their plane would be flying near.

Stewards were gathered around one of their private screens, in the corridor, whispering worriedly to each other.

Shoto unbuckled and stood up.

One of the stewardesses spotted him and jogged to him.

"Sir, you can't-"

He dropped the henge.

Her words died in her throat, strangled with a mouse-like squeak.

She'd recognized him.

Everyone on the plane had, and if they hadn't, they sure as hell had seen a perfect copy of him hundreds of kilometers away vanishing.

There was no point hiding : he'd kick All for One's ass to oblivion and for that, he needed to get out now. People would quickly add two and two and figure out who he was afterward, henge or not.

Shoto calmly walked to the plane's door, getting a good look at how high they were.

Clouds encased them in a whitish bubble, yet he could smell the sea.

Shoto cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders.

People watched him jump lightly on his feet, frozen in their seats, absolutely terrified.

He kicked the door open.

It broke off its hinges and flew out. A gust of wind rushed inside.

The stewards squinted and grabbed each other, holding onto anything they could. Children screamed.

An alarm rang in the plane, and people grew more and more anxious with each second passing by.

Shoto's hair flew all around his face.

He jumped without another thought.

The harsh, biting cold slapped him. He free-fell, arms spread wide, passing through the clouds.

The curve of Japan's north coast appeared among a sparkling sea. The sun had barely started rising.

Shoto had a rough idea of where he needed to go.

Blue fire burst from his feet and he adjusted his course.

*

"I'm going to kill you"

Enji smiled wickedly, warm blood trickling from his brow down his face.

He spit out blood, crystal eyes never leaving All for One's, wiped his mouth with the back of his dirty hand.

His muscles were hot, aching, his whole body shaking from exertion.

Lightning, even though any Todoroki worth their salt should be able to master it, was as hard to handle as he'd expected. His body was not used to it and it showed.

Viciousness glinted in Enji's eyes.

He raised his arm, imitating All Might's victory posture, something small, wet, and squishy in his palm.

The helicopter's light settled on him, and he knew the cameras were focusing on what he had in his hand.

"Can you ?"

All for One's sole eye narrowed dangerously.

"Don't-"

Enji crushed All for One's second eye between his fingers, drawing wicked pleasure from it, his fist catching fire and setting the remains ablaze.

All for One bolted forward, screaming.

*

Shoto was covering ground quickly but not quickly enough.

His heart was pulsing in his throat, tunnel vision making him blind to the whole world.

Faster.Faster.

He had to be enough. He has to be enough.

*

Enji's arm snapped in half like a twig.

He spat blood in All for One's last eye, blinding him temporarily.

All for One cursed whereas a mix of lightning and fire shot from Enji, going from his broken arm up to All for One's hand holding him.

All for One let him go with a hiss, staggered, and wiped his eye clean.

The lightning fell flat, extinguished, yet Enji was still moving forward, knife in hand, slashing and piercing.

All for One dodged and moved back, yet the blade's tip caught his jaw and teared a red river up his nose bridge.

His foot connected with Enji's stomach and he sent him tumbling back.

Enji rolled on the ground but got up, panting, whereas All for One was still trying to catch his breath.

They were exhausted, two old men on the verge of collapsing, yet unwilling to yield.

Enji was the first to engage once more.

Despite their exhaustion, both men moved fluidly, maneuvering around each other like few could ever hope to achieve.

All for One had trouble following the fight and reacting in time ; now that he had only one eye left his depth perception was off the charts, and Enji was playing along by making sneaky attacks from his blind spot.

Enji thrust his hand forward, knife going straight for his left eyeball.

The knife became two then four then six and kept multiplying, overlapping, as did Enji.

Cold sweat broke across All for One's back. Chills ran down his spine.

He jumped back a couple of meters away, using more energy than he should've when he was so painfully trying to conserve it.

Fire burst across Enji's skin and then died out.

All for One looked at his shaky, multiplying hands, ghost fingers overlapping over his.

"You poisoned me"

He was incredulous.

Enji quietly got back in a fighting stance.

His aloofness unnerved All for One.

There was no taunting, no cocky declamation, only a man, a soldier, who'd prepared for a fight to the death and who would fight to the death.

He didn't overly rely on his Quirk to get the job done like many – All for One – did. He'd brought tools according to the way he'd decided to deal with One for All and set his plan in motion.

All for One had thought the gun was the real threat, and Enji had anticipated it : he hadn't expected the knife, or that Enji – a Hero – would gouge his eye out without hesitation, maybe even with some glee.

This time, All for One fought to incapacitate.

They met and fought, fists and legs flying around each other, All for One hitting Enji's broken arm and Enji distracting All for One enough to get a clear shot at the gaping hole in his face, burning it in spurts of fire.

Most of the time All for One missed his hits – he had trouble following the fight, his mind was growing sluggish, and he couldn't pinpoint who was Enji and who was one of the illusory overlapping Enji.

Enji knew and he played along, moving in random directions and changing the way he fought to maximize the results of All for One's impaired vision.

Their gestures were heavy yet determined, both focused on-

All for One's head snapped to the right – there, at the edge of his senses…

Chills ran down his spine.

He tried to disengage but Enji didn't give him any breathing room.

Enji slashed and slashed and All for One tried to get to his legs.

All for One broke Enji's right leg simultaneously as his protection field activated, Enji's knife spinning forcefully in his hand before being pushed back, the blade tearing through his shoulder like butter.

All for One, wheezing, pushed Enji away.

Enji staggered, half bent, one hand on his wounded shoulder.

All for One's worried eyes momentarily went back to the sky.

He was sure he'd just felt-

Enji's hand grazed All for One's back : blue fire erupted from his fingertips, running on All for One, burning to a crisp what was left of his top, cooking and charring flesh and skin, wrapping around his neck and-

All for One's instincts took over : he turned around, grabbed Enji's wrist, broke it, a laser beam shooting from his navel, tearing a hole through Enji's chest.

*

Two fighter planes were flanking Shoto.

They'd burst out from the clouds suddenly and quietly and had not attempted to engage him.

Rather they flew close to him, forcing him to make a curve that was threatening to become a full U-turn.

They were asking him to leave Japan's premises.

He wasn't sure why they hadn't tried to shoot him down – maybe because they couldn't be certain that it'd hit him, and they didn't want to risk an all-out fight with him.

Shoto let them take the lead, though they were still flying in Japan's direction for now.

Seeing how easily the planes could keep up with him he knew it meant he wasn't nearly as fast as he should be.

He was faster when he ran, and even if he tried to run on water the rolling sea would be a hindrance that'd significantly reduce his speed.

Thus, Shoto did the only thing he could that would mean getting to his father in time : he coated himself in a thick layer of chakra, his body glowing blue, extending his senses as far as he could, grabbing desperately on the faint seal he'd left on his father neck.

If he failed, he'd be torn apart and Dad-

He couldn't let anything happen to his father.

Shoto closed his eyes and braced himself.

Then everything disappeared.

*

He didn't mean to do it. He-

All for One stood still, frozen, as Enji Todoroki, a hole in his chest, was staggering backward.

Eyes widened he looked down at his chest, confusion and fear flashing on his face.

He tried to speak but only blood, thick and dark, got out, dripping from his lips and down his chin.

His hand reached forward – an automatic gesture or cry for help ? - as the other closed around his throat. A sharp hiss rose from deep inside his chest as if he had trouble breathing.

His foot hit a rock and he fell on his back, unable to stop himself.

All for One stood there, paralyzed, watching Enji claw at his neck, eyes bulging, veins popping, skin turning a sick violet.

Dread pooled in his gut.

Enji wasn't supposed to die- he- he-

If he died, his son would murder him.

All for One shot forward, falling on his knees right next to Enji, hands glowing a faint purple.

He didn't have a proper healing Quirk – anything he had was mostly catered to auto-heal rather than help other people. He'd never regretted it as much as he did in that moment.

Enji's head was bobbing up and down, blood spilling freely from his lips when it should've stayed inside of his body.

Blood poured like a fountain from the gaping hole.

All for One cursed, pressed on the wound to keep everything inside. Enji's eyes fluttered, and his chest rose, yet he wasn't able to mutter the slightest pained noise because of the blood bubbling in his throat.

The wound wouldn't close. It wouldn't close.

Panic overrode All for One's thoughts.

That was it. The wound wouldn't close. He couldn't do anything about it.

The kid would murder him.

He'd murder him in the most painful, excruciating, wicked, vile way possible.

Worst was, All for One didn't even know why he and Enji had fought. He hadn't even wanted to.

But maybe everything wasn't lost. There- there must've been a hospital nearby, a dozen kilometers away or so.

If he could get him there fast enough, then maybe-

Enji weakly tugged at All for One's sleeve.

Their eyes met.

Enji's eyes were full of terror yet half-glazed, as if he wasn't fully there anymore yet conscious enough to understand what was happening to him.

All for One's first reaction was to move away but something – he couldn't exactly explain what – rooted him to the spot.

Maybe it was pity. Enji had fought well, way better than most people All for One had ever fought. He deserved someone to acknowledge it, to acknowledge him, to be by his side during his final moments.

Maybe it was empathy. All for One had nearly died quite a lot during the first Quirks War and each time he'd been reaching for someone, anyone, even strangers to stay with him when he thought he was going to die.

Certainly, it was fear because All for One knew that as soon as he left this battlefield he'd set in motion a revenge plot that would end either by his or Shoto's death. Most certainly his.

Thus, All for One stayed until Enji turned still and his eyes dull.

All for One stood up, took a few steps back, stilled, cursed, rushed forward, his hands wrapping around Enji's neck.

Crumbs of energy flew from him and up All for One's arm. The required five seconds had never felt so long.

Once it was done, All for One turned tail and desperately swapped away, praying that it'd be enough for him to be safe from the incoming disaster.
 
Chapter 252 - To Hell pt5
I staggered upon arrival, one hand on my stomach.

There was a hole from my hip to my navel, blood flowing down my thighs.

I grabbed my stomach, my fingers bumping against raw flesh, grimaced while tending to the crude wound, my eyes scanning the battlefield for Dad.

It took me a moment to realize I couldn't feel him.

Dread pooled in my gut.

The world suddenly felt cold, devoid of the only aura, the only source of warmth I had ever known, more necessary than the air I breathed.

I had never realized how dependent I was on my ability to sense him without seeing him; my inability to find him terrified me.

I moved forward, stifling a groan of pain, and my shoe hit a rock—

I stumbled, my legs momentarily refusing to move, nervous spasms making my calves tremble.

Terror blurred my vision, compressed my throat, turned upside down my stomach.

It can't—he can't—

There was blood, too much blood, blood everywhere, and he—he—

A spike of pain lit me up from the inside, eclipsing the physical pain, setting my nervous system on edge, igniting my body so violently that, for a fraction of a second, my brain blacked out, and I didn't remember who I was.

I took a step forward, stumbled, uncertain, stopped, moved forward again, hesitating, before my legs gave out.

Blood—not his, just blood, not his—splattered my pants.

I crawled to him, bits of rock digging into my hands and knees.

My shaking fingers hovered over his skin, afraid that if I touched him, I'd only hurt him more.

I gently brushed the sticky hair from his face, suddenly aware of the smell, his smell, powerful and detached, floating in the air, potent in a way it had never been.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve, chin trembling, clenching my teeth to avoid collapsing—focus on the wounds, look at the damage—not allowing myself to look into his still, glazed eyes, refusing to—

A sob shook me.

I forced myself to think, to analyze, because there had to be a damn solution, and if I found it—

There was a gaping hole in his chest, a pit where his heart should have been, and where there was only a half-crushed organ.

"It's going to be okay, Dad," I murmured in a strangled voice. "I'm going to heal you, okay ? Hold on, I promise it'll get better."

I removed my jacket, folded it, and put it under his head. The ground was hard, uneven. He'd be more comfortable this way.

My hands trembled as I held them, joined, above his chest.

My vision was blurry.

I wiped my eyes with a furious, trembling gesture, forcing myself to focus on the task.

It took me three tries to activate Mystical Palm jutsu.

My glowing hands sank into the hole.

My fingers were stained with warm blood, more brown than red.

He didn't react. His chest didn't move an inch, as hard and rigid as stone.

"It can't be pleasant to feel someone else's hands fiddling with your ribcage, right?" My laugh was dry, nervous, more of a croak than anything else. "It's gonna be okay, I'm here, it's gonna be okay, I swear it's gonna be okay."

'I hope you never abandon me'

The faint light of the jutsu turned into an intense, blinding pillar of light, so powerful it illuminated the entire battlefield, so blinding it seemed I had trapped a sun between my fingers.

The shadows of giant arms and broken rocks stretched for dozens of meters.

My eyes were fixed on the hole, the wet hole, the hole of crushed flesh, the hole that wasn't closing.

My hair fell in front of my eyes: I pushed it back sharply, smearing blood on my forehead and eyebrows, then plunged my hand back into his chest.

"It's going to be okay," I murmured, refocusing on my task. "It's going to be okay."

My voice echoed in the vast silence around us, and I ignored the surge of fear and despair that threatened to engulf me.

Dad needs me like I need him—I can't give up, I can't, I can't.

"He's not breathing. Keigo, give him mouth-to-mouth."

I looked up, meeting his gaze.

He stood on the other side of Dad, his face shrouded in darkness, his eyes two yellow slits glaring at me.

His wings spread wide, suddenly, as if he was about to swoop down on me, before they closed, and I knew he'd changed his mind.

I removed my mask so quickly that I nearly tore it off.

I pinched his nose with one hand, blowing large, regular breaths of air into his mouth, performing chest compressions on what was left of his heart.

One, two. Shock. Air. One, two. Shock. Air. One, two. Shock. Air. One, two. Shock. Air. One, two. Shock. Air. One, two. Shock. Air.

Shock, shock, shock.

Someone was breathing nearby, short and intense gasps that verged on panic. The only thing I noticed was that it wasn't Dad's.

My hands were sweaty, and his heart slipped between my fingers.

I increased the voltage and—

There, his heart had jumped !

I leaned forward, licking my dry lips, sharingan fixed on the heart that twitched between my fingers. It was a movement lighter than the wind but I had felt it, it had moved, he could live, he would live—

Why wasn't it moving anymore ?

I increased the power of the shocks, a dull, continuous hum filling my ears, drowning out the blades whirling above my head.

"Don't do that to me."

My shoulders began to tremble.

I continued diligently with the chest compressions but everything was blurry.

"Please, Dad, don't—"

My voice broke.

Don't leave me alone.

The cells weren't reforming, the blood wasn't flowing back, the hole wasn't closing, his heart wasn't beating.

I grabbed his icy hand—the one I had healed just a few minutes earlier—and held it between mines, resting my forehead on his rigid fingers.

He was cold and I felt cold.

Because I had already died once I knew it was impossible that I would ever see him again after today.

Even if I lived a thousand years, even if I spent every fraction of every second searching for him, I would never find him again.

I had lost him for this life and all those to come.

I cried, tears and blood mingling on my cheeks, pooling at my jaw and falling on his cold, cold hands.

I grabbed onto his body with the might of a child who refuses to let his parent go despite knowing that it is inevitable.

He was already dead when I arrived.

END OF PART 2
 
Part 3 - Hell - Chapter 253
It was pouring.

Kneeling next to his father, Shoto looked as dead as the body he stood watch over.

He hadn't moved an inch in hours, still as a statue, ass on his heels and palms up on his thighs, head down, water trickling from the tip of his hair.

He'd stopped crying a long time ago. His face had morphed into a carefully carved mask of nothing, eyes dull and apathetic.

It had reassured them. The kid wouldn't lash out. He was too caught up in his grief.

Katsuki knew Shoto. His reaction unnerved him.

Yet despite everything that had happened between them, Katsuki wouldn't abandon him.

Chisaki had been- it didn't matter.

What mattered was that his closest friend's father had been killed on live TV and that Shoto had spent close to two hours, hands glowing an eerie green, trying to bring back to life a dead man.

They'd watched him wipe his tears with bloodied, shaking hands, smearing red across his cheek.

They'd witnessed how desperately he hung onto him, refusing to let go, frightened and confused, fragile and human.

Katsuki's mother had been sitting next to him when it happened.

She'd brought her hand to her mouth, unshed tears shining in her eyes.

Katsuki had torn himself from their couch and flew in one go to Nemuro.

The Commission had already been there, trucks and cars haphazardly parked on the road overlooking the charred beach, yet none had dared to get down.

The smell – awful rotten eggs which meant sulfur – had hit him first.

The titanic hands looked more monstrous than they did on screen. Crevasses littered the ground here and there, vapor, thickened by rain, rising and billowing.

A few people had spotted him as soon as he'd arrived; Katsuki had flown over them, capitalizing on their hesitation, and landed on the burning beach.

The ground had been so hot he'd barely brushed it before he decided floating was the best course of action.

Commission employees had screamed at him to get back with them, that he shouldn't be here, that what he was doing was illegal, and yet Katsuki had stood his ground.

He'd held himself between Shoto and the world, defiant, daring anyone to come closer and see what would happen to them.

Shoto was still a traitor, a 'terrorist', and they'd send him to Tartarus – if they didn't kill him here and then first.

Katsuki was the Peace Symbol; he wouldn't let anyone or anything get within twenty meters of him.

Shoto had lost his father.

They'd seen his muted crying on live TV, face undiscovered, and they'd felt his pain despite not hearing him.

Now Katsuki could hear his soul-wrenching sobs, his muttered pleas for his father to stay, just stay-

Tears had welled up in Katsuki's eyes. He ground his teeth, gaze hardening, channeling his energy on the disapproving Commission employees.

He shot a glance at the helicopter that was circling high above them.

Shoto's grief was personal. It shouldn't be disclosed on live TV.

He'd raised his hand, and a black whip had shot from his arm, wrapping the outdated camera. He brought his hand down sharply: the camera fell and broke on the rocks below, the journalist leaving a shocked scream.

Half an hour after he'd arrived, it'd started raining.

Soon the military arrived.

There were tanks, fighter aircraft, and squads of soldiers lining up on the road overlooking the beach.

Katsuki had watched everything with cold eyes. Shoto was still kneeling.

Thank god Sung was somewhere overseas, because if they'd tried catching Shoto right now…

They didn't understand that as much as Katsuki was protecting Shoto from them, he was also protecting them from Shoto.

Shoto had always been a wild, wild card in his sanest moments. He could barely fathom what he'd do now.

After the military came the civilians.

People had died in the nearby village, choked to death by the acrid smoke while they were still sleeping.

Civilians had gathered, a small but quickly growing crowd, in a field that overlooked the beach.

Then came the cameras and the live streams. Half an hour later the tanks were gone.

Despite the wind, thick vapor still hovered over the beach.

Shoto's figure went in and out of the fog, momentarily seen before white steam swallowed him.

His eyes were locked on his father's dull, icy eyes. He hadn't found the strength to close them.

Between his clenched fingers, his father's hand had turned slightly violet.

Rain rolled in his hair, dripped on his forehead, and beaded at the corner of his lashes.

The smell of shit and piss permeated the air, yet it wasn't strong enough to be smelt from far away.

The sun rose, barely seen through the fog and rainy clouds, and soon it was midday.

Shoto hadn't moved, hadn't looked away.

He was soaked to the bones, hair plastered on his face.

His eyes were dull, two windows that opened on nothing, as if Enji had taken of piece of his son with him when he'd died.

He'd stopped crying long ago.

There was a buzzing sound, like a swarm of bees. He blinked.

Someone was talking to him.

"The body," someone softly said. "We have to take it to the morgue."

"No"

Shoto's voice was hoarse and raspy yet categorical. No one would touch his father.

"We can't let it there," someone else argued softly. "It's too hot here. It's already showing signs of decomposition"

It.

Shoto looked up, the distant sky hidden behind a whitish curtain pierced here and there by sun rays.

He cocked his head to the side and stilled, eyes narrowed, as if he were listening to someone murmuring in his ear.

"It means you'll keep him fresh and well until I come back with what's needed, right doc? Only until I come back with what I need..."

The doctor glanced worriedly at Katsuki before answering the young man.

"Yes, of course. We will keep the body – I mean, your father – in perfect condition. The autopsy will not cause any visible damage and for the enti-"

"No"

Shoto's gaze snapped to the forensic.

His eyes were red, black commas spinning dangerously. Katsuki stiffened and protectively pushed the shaking doctor behind him.

It was the first time he'd looked away from his father's rotting corpse.

"The autopsy is necessary," the doctor tried. "To understand-"

"No"

The doctor squeezed the stethoscope hanging around his neck.

He looked everywhere except the young man's face now, stuttering:

"Okay, very well, as you wish."

He bowed respectfully and moved away.

Shoto's malevolent gaze followed him as he walked away and began giving orders to pick up the body.

"Shoto, are you… are you alright?"

Katsuki knew his question was stupid but he couldn't help it.

"Of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?"

Shoto turned to him, looking genuinely surprised.

Katsuki might have believed him if he hadn't witnessed the desperate way Shoto had tried to revive a dead man just a few minutes ago.

Shoto's apathy chilled him.

Was it shock?

Katsuki had trouble understanding what was regular grieving behavior and what was just Shoto.

"You understand that..." Katsuki licked his dry lips, dreading the reaction that would follow "You understand that he's dead, right? They're not bringing him to a hospital to heal him, Shoto. Your father's dead, and there's no coming back from that"

There was a long, very long moment of silence.

Shoto didn't take his eyes off the young man who was gazing at the horizon. The longer he took to react, the more Hawks feared the magnitude of his reaction.

"Of course, he's not"

His tone was casual, almost cheerful, as if he didn't remember being covered in his own father's blood – it made Katsuki even more on edge than he already was.

Shoto smiled, this terrifying smile that made his eyes crinkle.

He hadn't put his mask back on, couldn't be bothered to.

Katsuki looked Shoto in the eye; he was too respectful to look lower.

"Shoto, your father's dead"

Katsuki knew that whatever stage he was going through, it had to be nipped in the bud before he completely lost it.

"No, I already told you he's not"

His eyes were still crescent moons but there was something tense in his expression.

"He wasn't breathing anymore when-"

"If you open your filthy fucking mouth one more time, I'll rip it off with my bare hands"

Katsuki didn't make a sound.

Shoto's eyes had suddenly turned black, like two bottomless pits.

All the features of his face had frozen, like those contemporary sculptures of souls screaming to death. There was something unreal about his expression, something that shouldn't have belonged to a being made of flesh and blood.

Katsuki raised his hands in a gesture of appeasement.

"Sure, don't know what I was saying, sorry"

Shoto's eyes narrowed, and the world seemed to stand still as he judged Katsuki's sincerity.

His eyes crinkled.

"Of course, no problem, of course"

Katsuki smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. His heart was pounding, the back of his head tingling.

"Let me bring you home, alright?"

Katsuki smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. His heart was pounding, the back of his head tingling.

"Let me bring you home, alright ?"

Shoto didn't answer.

They lingered a moment longer, and then Katsuki worked up the courage to help Shoto to his feet and get in a cab.

Shoto, a mindless puppet, let himself be moved around.

They left only once the corpse had been put in an ambulance, their car following quietly behind.

The military begrudgingly let them leave. They didn't want to risk a fight they knew they couldn't win, especially when there were so many civilians - and recording devices - around.

Katsuki sighed quietly, head propped against the cold, rumbling window.

He wondered what was going on inside Shoto's head, if his mind was a tumultuous tempest and his smooth face just a mask, or if he truly was a blank slate, devoid of anything, so numb he could've murdered in cold blood anyone on that beach if they'd dared to take his father away from him.

Katsuki knew one thing for sure : Shoto had snapped, and there would be no coming back from that.

1 – DENIAL
 
Chapter 254
Enji Todoroki was buried on a rainy day.

There'd been a lot of people – more than he expected.

Although Katsuki hadn't been formally invited, he woke up that morning with a crisp suit at the foot of the couch he slept on, a note attached to it—9 am.

He showered then stood briefly in his boxers briefs, looking out of the window.

It was pouring. It hadn't stopped for a week.

He would've thought nothing of it before but now that he'd seen a man waking up every Japanese volcano in minutes, he knew better than not to attribute massive weather change to some god-like individual.

For a brief moment, he considered what they all were, all of them people with Quirks so powerful they could change the world. He wondered what was the point of gifting such abilities to humankind, if it wouldn't have been better if this glowing baby in China hadn't suddenly appeared centuries ago.

Now Katsuki was, too, one of these god-like individuals, just like Shoto and his father before him.

He could change the world. He wasn't sure what there was to change and where he would even start.

Something tingled at the back of his mind.

Katsuki's gaze snapped towards the door, beyond which was Shoto's bedroom turned war room.

It happened sometimes, his senses tingling suddenly when Shoto was doing nothing but breathing, before the buzzing stopped abruptly. It had happened far too often to consider it a fluke.

He didn't want to linger on the reason.

He still remembered All Might's words and the half-lit corridor where he'd killed of his own volition for the first time.

Once clothed, Katsuki went out.

He had no problem spotting the slow buzz of people dressed in black, standing at the edge of a flower field behind the house – mansion, really.

Katsuki stood at the back of the crowd.

Eyes discreetly shifted in his direction when he arrived, and he knew he'd been spotted.

There were a lot of people he recognized but could not name: important individuals who had tried to cozy up to him, lots of politicians and foreigners who screamed disgustingly wealthy and powerful.

Katsuki wondered if they'd come to pay their proper respects to Enji or if they just wanted to get on the Peace Symbol's good graces by showing up, even though it was bordering on sympathizing with criminals.

For all accounts, Shoto shouldn't have been able to get back to his house. Enji's body should've been disposed of by the military, not to receive a proper burial.

It was because Katsuki had intervened – and publicly, at that – that they'd left him alone.

After bringing Shoto home, Katsuki had found something akin to a guest room nearby his and slept on a couch – fancy, yes, but still a couch – and lived in the Todoroki estate unsolicited. He hadn't left in a week, because Shoto hadn't either.

Lots of people had pressured him to get out of the fucking house. He hadn't budged an inch.

He knew they wanted to send the military – Sung, too, who should've been back from his assignment overseas – but didn't because they feared that he and Shoto would band against them.

He found it amusing that two underage kids teaming up could intimidate the prime minister into letting them do whatever they wanted.

Katsuki's mom had called him a few days ago, and he'd nearly not answered, expecting to receive an earful.

"Listen," she'd said. "I don't care what they say about him on TV, but what I know is that a kid just lost his father and politicians have been calling for his imprisonment. I won't ask you to get your ass home, despite what some people would like" Katsuki smiled, certain she was talking to somebody next to her "Just do whatever you feel is right. I trust your judgment"

Katsuki trusted his judgment, too.

Or he did most of the time.

Only when the voices weren't whispering inside his head.

He was worried about Shoto, yes, but Shoto also worried him greatly, and he didn't know how much of it was his feelings or the voices' wariness.

Maybe the crowd was, too, and that's why they'd bothered to come.

Katsuki's eyes wandered, though he knew he wouldn't find the one he was searching for.

They were all worried about a boy cooped up in his house, too far engrossed in his grief – madness - to attend his own father's burial.

Granted, there'd been a private ceremony yesterday, only for family members and closest acquaintances of Enji, but Shoto hadn't attended that one either.

The ceremony started and things went on smoothly, albeit a bit rigidly.

The one presiding over the burial was a woman with long, burning lava hair. Her eyes were two pits of fire, glowing so brightly that her eyelashes' shadows danced on her cheeks. The black veil crowning her hair did nothing to hide the intensity of her gaze.

She was extremely tall – as were all Todoroki – and exuded an aura of power and confidence that bordered on intimidating.

She'd arrived at the estate the evening Katsuki had, and he hadn't been surprised to learn she was Shoto's grandma. They held themselves similarly, and looked at you with the same unnerving intensity - when they bothered looking at you at all.

She'd asked him a few questions and Katsuki had nearly expected he'd need to fight to stay there and make sure Shoto wouldn't k… be disturbed.

Surprisingly, she'd merely nodded and thanked him, told him that he was free to stay as long as he could afford to.

That's when Katsuki had noticed four men in suits hidden at the corners of the room. He hadn't even heard them breathe, and it was disturbing for his senses were in a league of their own since he'd received the One for All.

Since then, there hadn't been a day when he hadn't seen one of them, though he never saw the same person twice.

He hadn't asked any questions.

Shoto's grandma seemed like a smart woman: she must've come to the same conclusions as him and decided that hiring people to protect her grandson was the best course of action.

How she'd managed to get inside the estate, though, Katsuki had no idea.

The place's perimeter had been full of soldiers since he'd gotten Shoto there.

They hadn't broken in – yet -, but Katsuki feared they would, and he'd told Shoto as much.

Shoto hadn't answered.

He wasn't… unresponsive wasn't quite the word.

He worked, day and night, painting these weird symbols and starting anew, quiet, frantic, eyes bloodshot. He just didn't bother interacting with the world outside his room.

Katsuki hadn't pushed. There were worse ways to cope than that.

He'd worried for them both, wondering what he'd do if – when? - they'd effectively break in.

Would Shoto fight? There wasn't a world where he wouldn't, yet Katsuki felt that as long as they left him working on his drawings, he wouldn't care if he were in Tartarus itself.

Would Katsuki fight? Help Shoto escape?

He could not answer.

The funeral was beautiful.

There was a violin playing in the background and people stood, head down, quiet, most with umbrellas.

Grandma Todoroki didn't need one: the very air crackled and hissed around her, drops evaporating before they even grazed her, vapor billowing around her.

The coffin had been lowered yesterday, though the pit had not yet been filled.

Despite the recent law that stipulated that all Heroes and 'qualified' individuals were to be cremated, Enji would be one of the rare few left to be buried in Japan.

He hadn't been a Hero for a while, anyway, so maybe it explained it.

Katsuki's gaze settled on the white-haired woman, a few feet from Shoto's grandma, crying quietly in a handkerchief.

A young woman was holding her quietly. A man was looking at the tombstone with an unreadable expression, his hands in his pockets. He didn't seem sad, but simply… astonished. As if, even when the coffin was still open and he could see his father, white and inert, he couldn't believe that it had truly happened.

They move on to the speeches.

People didn't hurry to talk about Enji – almost all of them barely knew him – and, in a way, it was sadder than Shoto not coming.

Shoto's grandma frowned at how obviously uncomfortable everybody was.

It was the crying woman – certainly Shoto's mom – who came to her rescue.

She squeezed the grandma's arm gently, walking past her to the lectern. The grandma looked startled.

She sniffed several times, wiped her cheeks, offering a sad smile to the crowd, not daring to lift her eyes high enough to meet anyone's gaze.

"I was married to Enji for… She shook her head. "We went through difficult times, but I will never stop thanking him for giving me four beautiful and wonderful children. Thank you"

She promptly left, her handkerchief already at the corner of her eyes.

She laid a flower on the coffin as she passed, pausing for a few seconds to contemplate the frozen face of her husband.

A very tall man – at least as tall as Endeavor was in life – stepped out from the ranks of the crowd. He had a white beard that joined his thick mustache and a face illuminated, almost as if he had forgotten he was at a funeral.

"Ah, hello everyone. I know most of you don't know who I am, so I'll introduce myself briefly : my name is Go Gunhee, and I was one of Enji's comrades in the army" He leaned over the microphone like a conspirator revealing one of his secrets. "That's a surprise, isn't it ? Little Enji served his country in the shadows without recognition. You won't read that in the two interviews of his career, will you !"

He let out a small laugh, glancing at the open coffin conspiratorially. Then, as if the weight of the situation dawned on him again, his face darkened, and his lips tightened.

"Enji and I had a fallout sometime before his death… We didn't—There's a lot of things we didn't agree about. I regret trying to stop him. If I'd helped…"

A shadow flashed across his face.

"We grew apart over the years. I didn't want to believe that he'd changed, that he could've been a different man from the one I knew. I regret his death."

Then suddenly, his gaze grew ominous, and a chill went down Katsuki's spine.

"And I know everybody will regret it, too."

A lot of people came, most talking about Endeavor's career, few about Enji.

Colleagues, subordinates, and even a few Heroes spoke.

It was brave of them, especially because they'd certainly be publicly shamed if it was known they'd attended a criminal's funeral.

Public opinion had turned to neutral after Shoto…

The Todoroki had won a lot of supporters, and there was an online war between them and their detractors, splitting the country into nearly two exact parts. Not as if Shoto would give two shits about it, anyway.

The most touching was the young heroine who talked about how Enji had saved her when she was just a child.

"… without him, I don't know where I would be. Certainly not here"

Her voice was filled with tremors: she took a deep breath, trying not to let emotion overcome her.

"He gave me the desire to be a hero, but not the kind who struts on TV: no, I wanted to be like him, someone whose actions speak louder than words"

She smiled sadly, tears threatening to overflow onto her cheeks: not wanting to make a scene, she hurried to lay her small bouquet of daffodils in the coffin.

Right after she was Aizawa, and Katsuki's brows shot up.

He had thought he was the only one from U.A. to be invited.

Aizawa scratched his neck, glanced at the coffin.

He was subdued, a lot more different from the man who'd threatened to fire 1-A's students if they weren't competent enough.

"I knew Enji at U.A. He was very different from the man he became: he tormented other students and fought whenever he had the chance..."

Aizawa scoffed as though remembering fond memories.

"Fortunately, it didn't last. He told me once that this change was due to the army and fatherhood. If someone had told me thirty years ago that Enji would end up a father…"

He left his sentence hanging, his smile turning bitter.

"I can't say how hard it must be for all of you, his family, to have to bury him this year. He wasn't even fifty: he could have lived so many things… And Shoto…"

Aizawa coughed to hide the swell of emotions in his voice.

Katsuki waited until the very end, until there was no one but the Todorokis and him.

Shoto hadn't come.

He didn't know why he'd hoped otherwise.




Katsuki knocked on the door. No answer.

He knocked once more and peered inside.

The door creaked.

Footsteps – dozens and dozens of footsteps – overlapped with voices – voices of different people, but unique to one.

Katsuki lingered on the threshold of the room.

Shoto was painting to the left, Shoto was wiping an ink stain near a window, Shoto was distributing pens to a dozen other Shotos gathered in a circle around an immense diagram laid out on a table. Shoto who was giving orders to other Shotos moving back and forth between the three large, adjacent rooms that made up the war room.

Nezu had warned him that Shoto could be… more than what they'd believed.

He'd told him he'd need to be calm and, above all, not rush him.

Katsuki knew which Shoto was the true one because he was the only one who hadn't reacted when he opened the door.

He walked to him and stood there, watching him half bent over a table, pondering over a drawing that made no sense and never would.

"The funeral just ended."

Shoto added a curve, didn't look up.

"A lot of people came."

Again, no answer, not even a hum.

Katsuki grabbed the drawing as Shoto was going to add another insignificant detail, checking it with false interest.

"What are you trying to do, anyway?"

It was too ugly to be contemporary art, and Shoto had never been an artsy guy anyway.

Shoto snapped the paper back.

"Trying to recreate the Edo Tensei."

Right. Edo Tensei.

Katsuki nodded as if it made sense.

He glanced around. The place was in full swing. At a glance, there must have been about thirty other Shoto.

He tried to ignore the voices that whispered that one of him was enough, and that thirty was akin to an apocalyptic threat.

"The Edo Tensei, okay. What's that ?"

Shoto gave him a sidelong glance – it was the first time he'd looked at him since his arrival.

His eyes were cold, almost cruel.

"Who sent you ?"

Katsuki looked him straight in the eyes:

"I came of my own will"

And it was true: he had refused the microphone that Nezu had suggested he take, as well as all the other crap tools with it.

Shoto studied him for a few seconds before returning to his… drawings, his shoulders slightly more relaxed than before.

Katsuki took that as an encouragement to continue.

"Listen, I'm not saying that I know what you're going through, but-"

"Was there a buffet?"

"Pardon?"

"The funeral. Was there a buffet?"

The question caught Katsuki off guard.

"There wasn't."

Which he'd found a bit unusual, but whatever.

Shoto nodded, as though satisfied, and went back to his work.

In the background, the clones seemed to be arguing.

"I thought you would…" Katsuki cast another paranoid glance around "… I thought you were plotting a plan to go kill the guy who killed your father.

Le pinceau de Shoto s'immobilisa un centimètre au-dessus du parchemin.

"If you do, I'll help you."

And Katsuki meant it.

Shoto stiffened.

It was the most he'd managed to get out of his friend in days, thus Katsuki emboldened.

"I'm just wondering why you haven't…" It was difficult to properly explain what he meant without sounding rude. "Well, you're rather intense. I'm just surprised you haven't dealt with him yet."

He'd expected to see All for One hanging by his skin in Tokyo the same day.

"… Dad's more important."

Is.

Shoto kept drawing. His movements were psychotic.

He added two curves and four new esoteric symbols.

"I know," said Katsuki.

"No you don't."

He didn't. He'd said it only because that's what he felt he should say, not because he meant it.

"I'd like… I think maybe you should speak. Not to me, not if you don't feel like it, but to somebody, like your grandma."

Shoto didn't answer.

Frowning, he was pushing things around, seeing something that Katsuki wasn't able to.

"It can't be," Shoto muttered, and Katsuki leaned forward, ignoring the building tension in his shoulders.

"I could help you. We could—maybe you need to see somebody, alright? Your father—"

Katsuki didn't say 'wouldn't have wanted you to act like that' because it was shitty and he didn't know what Enji Todoroki would've wanted.

Did he feel bad, seeing how frantic Shoto had become? Did he feel proud that somebody cared enough about him they'd move the heavens for him? Was he even watching over his son?

"- his death has taken its toll on you. You need to let go, for a while at least, and grieve properly."

Refusing to admit that his father was dead and wouldn't come back wasn't the proper way to grieve.

Shoto, as if he couldn't hear him, kept on pushing papers around, searching for something that eluded him.

Shoto ignored him – or didn't hear him – continuing to sow chaos in his workspace.

"They've got the pure lands so I thought…"

Shoto grabbed a book and, for a brief moment, it looked as if it glowed blue.

Katsuki blinked, and the glow disappeared.

"What is it?"

Shoto was ash white.

"… their reincarnation cycle is completely different than ours."

Katsuki frowned, peered over his shoulder.

It was a physics book, diagrams, and circles with evasive numbers.

Katsuki's eyes roamed over the page, trying to understand what had annoyed Shoto so much.

The book was shaking. Katsuki looked up.

Shoto was red in the face, veins bulging on his forehead.

The hardcover snapped, chunks flying around, and Katsuki jumped, startled.

"What's the problem?"

Shoto's eyes snapped to his, smoke rising from the corner of his pursed lips as though he were boiling inside.

It tingled at the back of Katsuki's mind.

"Get the fuck out of here."

Katsuki frowned.

"Wh-"

Shoto hit him square in the stomach.

All the air was expelled from Katsuki. He spit saliva as he shot across the office like a rocket at full speed, embedding himself in the hallway wall.

A lightning-like pain shot from his spine to his chest.

The last thing he saw was one of the Shotos approaching the door, looking down at him: Katsuki's eyes lowered and he saw Shoto—the original—at the back, throwing tables against the walls and breaking ink pots amid a rain of paper, as light as feathers.

They closed the door on him.
 
Chapter 255
"… new and upcoming Hero, Flame, who has recently entered the top 10 and has announced on social media his will to buy what is formerly known as Endeavor Tower. Sir Flame, why such a choice considering the heavy history behind this tower ?"

The Hero smiled, his fire hair flowing like water, as if they had a life of their own.

The full fire-suit was too energy-consuming, so he settled for a new trademark, something that would remind people of greatness and yet set him apart.

"Well, it's because of this history that I want to buy the tower. More than who previously owned it, it's the legacy it represents that interests me. Despite what some may say, Endeavor died a Hero : he tried to kill the most dangerous man Japan had seen in decades. I want to uphold his leg-"

The TV was turned off.

Shoto blinked.

He'd leaned forward without meaning to, his vision too crisp and clean.

He deactivated his sharingan as Teka smoothly sat on the ottoman facing him.

"Glad to see you're not as apathetic as I've heard"

Shoto looked at her blankly.

She was used to it now, and she wasn't stupid enough to mistake anything he was going through for indifference.

Grief and anger billowed in his eyes, a brewing storm that needed an outlet.

"Have you eaten today ?"

"Yes"

She nodded.

At least she wouldn't have to shove food down his throat like she was forced to during the last couple of days. Though most of the time the boy wouldn't let himself be caught thus she had to bully his clones until the original one appeared.

The conversation stalled.

Teka and Shoto – every Todoroki, really - had never been great speakers, and this was worse now that Enji wasn't there.

At least when Enji was there there'd been an easy dynamic they could fall back on : Enji and Teka would bicker, and Shoto would make fun of them. Or, when they were alone, Shoto would get his grandma to answer some of his queries. Shoto had always sought Teka, not the other way around.

And now that Enji...

She didn't know what she should say to a boy who had lost his father.

She hadn't known either, thirty years ago, when Enji, barely older than Shoto, had lost his.

From then on, their barely functional relationship crumbled until they were strangers united by their care for Shoto.

Teka was suddenly acutely aware of her shortcomings.

She didn't want the same thing to happen with her grandson.

They both were the only person the other one had left.

"I heard what you did yesterday. You're careless. You should care better about your allies"

But because she was only herself, she couldn't help but fall back in her own ways.

Shoto's dull eyes met hers. Neither guilt nor regret.

At least he looked her in the eyes, acknowledged that people existed beyond himself.

It was better than nothing.

"I needed… I was supposed to be useful. I should've been able to bring him back"

Teka pursed her lips.

He'd burned his room to the ground and nearly half of the building too : he'd only stopped when he'd realized that if it went on, he'd incinerate his father's study, which was above his.

She should've scolded him, but she found she couldn't.

"No one can bring the dead back to life"

She knew because she'd tried a lot of times during her life.

She knew how heart-wrenching it was to scour the world to find someone with the right Quirk, following leads for years that led to nothing.

Enji had always thought she'd buried herself in work to avoid talking about his father's death, and she couldn't bring herself to explain to him what she was attempting.

Resentment was better than seeing her as the foolish, weak-hearted woman she was.

"I've got a way to… I could bring back Dad"

Teka's brows shot up.

"I beg your pardon ?"

She carefully maintained a neutral expression.

"The book says it's impossible, but I thought-" he licked his dry lips, crazed eyes locking with Teka's "The ninja world has its own set of rules; you understand ? They have their own After Life, cut from any other. The Edo Tensei only works for them because there is no After. For us, it's different because when we die, we reincarnate"

Teka took everything in with admirable calm.

Was he mad ? She refused this possibility.

They couldn't afford for the Todoroki heir to be.

Yet his gaze unsettled her. If there was anyone in the world who could talk about bringing people back to life and who wouldn't be spewing nonsense, wouldn't it be her grandson ?

"You think I'm lying"

Teka coughed, her chest rumbling. Shoto handed her a cup of tea that she appreciatively drank.

"I trust your judgment" she said carefully. "I merely do not know half of the things you're talking about"

He was wary of her, now, and Teka felt, as emotionally unstable as he was, she could lose him if she said the wrong thing.

"I could bring back Dad to life"

It seemed impossible, the words of a madman, the epitome of insanity.

"Then why don't you ?"

Shoto let out a frustrated sound.

"That's the fucking problem. I could, if we'd been in another world – in this one I know he's already left. He's probably already forgotten about-"

His voice broke.

His eyes shone but they hardened as quickly.

Teka reached to him instinctively, awkwardly, to offer comfort, yet she didn't know how one should comfort somebody else.

Nobody had comforted her when her father, cousins, husband, and son had died.

She settled for neutral grounds, something that would take her mind off her thundering emotions.

"How do you know about that sort of thing ?", she asked, appearing unnaturally calm. "Reincarnation and this book you mentioned..."

He smiled wryly.

"Don't tell me you don't understand what I mean"

She did, but the possibility of such a thing was so astonishing that she had trouble accepting it.

"I see"

She'd always thought him unnaturally wise even for Todoroki's standards of bright children.

"There's another way", he said. "I can bring him back"

He was so desperate looking at him hurt.

Usually, Teka would've looked away and let him do as he pleased ; but she'd already walked down that path and she knew it only led to anger and resentment.

Teka gestured to one of her henchmen to come forward. He held a box between his hands.

He put it on the coffee table.

"That's for you", she said. "From your father"

His fingers, which had been grazing the lock, stilled.

He carefully opened the box, as though it would break if he didn't show utmost care.

On a crimson velvet pillow was a cream letter adressed to 'Shoto'.

He could not tear his gaze from it, his eyes tracing again and again the letters.

It smelt like him.

"You knew, didn't you"

It wasn't a question, not even an accusation, but it was laced with disappointment.

Teka braced herself for a shouting match, ready to hold her ground.

Shoto merely rose, leaving the letter in its box.

He was numb to the world, numb to himself, yet the letter was a painful, painful stab to his heart, and he couldn't bear looking at it any longer.

Teka helplessly watched him leave, unable to think of a way to make him stay.

She chose sincerity, exposing her wounds and pains, as she should've done with Enji's when he'd needed her most.

"You know", she said quietly, voice laced with emotions "He was my son, too"

Shoto stilled on the threshold of the room.

For a moment, she thought he'd come back to her.

He clenched his fists and left.

*

"How is Shoto doing ?"

Teka didn't answer.

"… I do not wish to take more of your time than necessary, so I'll be brief : I have exchanged with a lot of important people and it had been agreed upon that if Shoto kills All for One, he'll be absolved"

Teka stilled.

"Absoluted ?"

She'd been commanding the Todoroki estate with the might of an emperor, her men trickling from Italy day after day until she had a small, extremely powerful army at her beck and call.

She'd been ready to wage war to keep her grandson free once the Japanese military finally decided to break into their estate.

"Indeed. I have the Prime Minister's approval right here. I could send it to you if you need any proof"

"Do so"

"We know that he'll do it, absolution or not", drawled her interlocutor. "I just thought securing a deal with the government ensuring them that All for One threat would be eradicated wasn't an opportunity to pass on"

Teka's fingers clinked against her desk.

"Pray tell me why you're going to such lengths to help him ?"

"… let's say your grandson helped me with an important project and he still hasn't claimed his price"

Teka hummed, knowing she wouldn't get any answer from him nor said grandson.

"Remind me what was your name ?"

"Nezu"

*

At first, she'd screamed, but he'd shut her with a slap.

He'd grabbed her in the middle of the night, snatched her from her room with his hard, cold, gloved hands.

They'd appeared in a forest, tall, slender trees like bony fingers pointing towards the sky.

She'd fallen on her knees, threw up.

He didn't leave her the time to wipe her mouth : he grabbed her by her hair and dragged her.

She'd cried in pain, her scalp burning as she tried to make him let go, tears and rivulets of blood streaming down her face.

He hadn't moved an inch, indifferent to the child's suffering.

The woods were terrifying, shadows stretching ominously, a crowd watching this man drag her for what felt like miles.

Soon, her pajamas were torn by the friction with the rocky ground. Her skin was grated bloody.

Pellets painfully embedded themselves in her exposed thighs.

She tried to stand and walk, stumbling, yet the man kept walking and she couldn't find her footing.

There was a dull violence to him, one that is aware of what it's doing but doesn't care.

The hardened ground was replaced by flowers, sprouts of yellow and purple of early spring.

He fisted her hair harder than he did before and she screamed.

He forced her on her legs and then violently pushed her down.

She fell, her arm hitting a hard surface at a weird angle. A jolt of pain lit up from her elbow to her shoulder.

He crouched behind her, at surface level, grabbing her by the back of her neck, pushing her head down until she smelt rotten among the sweetness of flowers.

"Heal him"

She held her tears in, trying to see what he was-

Something stirred and squished beneath her hand.

Maggots. There were a bunch of maggots stirring in a bag of bones.

She screamed and backed away, the wet, whitish, sticky things crawling up her wrist.

Her back hit a wall.

She tried to get out, but the man forcefully pushed her back down.

There, right above the swirling of maggots, was a thin, spine-like bone. Her terrified eyes roamed further and she saw a jaw, lips half gone, showing bone and teeth between which crawled beetles.

A grave. She was in a grave.

Fluids were seeping out from what was left of the skin, dripping down in the coffin. One of the body's eye was bulging as though it wanted to pop out of the socket.

A mop of scarlet hair rested on it.

The man grabbed her neck and pushed her head down until her face was millimeters from the decaying corpse's.

"Heal him"

He unkindly let her go.

She shrank on herself, shivers running up and down her spine. Her arms were shaking.

"I- I can't"

It wasn't how her Quirk worked ; she couldn't rewind the dead to life.

Shoto grabbed her by her neck, eyes blazing red, and pushed her head down and down until she could've tasted rotten flesh had she dared to open her mouth.

"Heal him !"

She cried harder, shaking, terrified.

"I'm sorry", she repeated. "I'm sorry"

Shoto screamed and hit a rock nearby.

It was obliterated, not even dust lingering behind.

He punched a tree, uprooted it, and destroyed the forest with the might of a wrathful god, fire and lightning flickering across his face.

Eri cried harder and harder, shrinking on herself, beetles and maggots crawling on her skin, yet she was more afraid of the animal behind her.

And then, as suddenly as he'd appeared in her room, he'd disappeared, leaving her alone in the grave of a dead man.
 
Chapter 256
All for One didn't know how the kid managed it, but he was everywhere.

He was in every port, airport, station, and the like, his presence strong, ominous, powerful, and all-encompassing.

He'd been frantic, had spent the last week scouring the country to find a way out, to no avail.

He was trapped, a deer caught in headlights, a rat in a net.

He'd believed that with Endeavor's grave still fresh the kid wouldn't be in the right state of mind to start a manhunt.

He'd been wrong.

He couldn't leave the country and it made him increasingly more nervous and agitated.

He kept looking over his shoulder, lost appetite, and did not allow himself to sleep for more than forty minutes to not get caught unaware when he would come.

Few things could frighten somebody as old as him, but this seventeen-year-old was one of them.

All for One always had a clear policy when it came to monstrous children like Shoto : either he subdued them, or he killed them.

Most of the time he had to kill them, kids that could've turned the world upside down had they been allowed to live. He knew : he'd been one of them and had only managed to survive thanks to sheer ruthlessness.

He'd tried something different for Shoto, had foregone his usual wariness for a more direct and brutal approach.

It had to do with the fact that he hadn't even known he was anything special before he entered Yuei, and by then it had already been too late.

"You're asking for protection ?"

All for One could hear the disbelief in his interlocutor's voice.

He rubbed his face tiredly. His eyes were red and rimmed by dark, puffy bags.

All for One was doomed, plain and simple.

He'd been weakened since the kid had played kamikaze and had managed to hurt All for One. And now that he'd fought Endeavor…

The kid wouldn't let him go. Never. And All for One couldn't properly protect himself, or at least ensure his survival.

Despite how much he hated the idea of it, he had to find allies – or rather, people who would benefit more from him being alive than dead.

That's why he'd decided to turn himself in.

All for One licked his chapped lips. It felt rough against his tongue.

How low the mighty had fallen.

"I see that as a mutual partnership"

His voice was cool and poised, yet his crazed eyes surveyed the crowd around him, eyes jumping from one head to the next, heart jumping when he spotted red or white hair, anxious relief flooding him when he noticed that it was never both simultaneously.

The Commission's President laughed.

"The kid's coming to get you, isn't he ?"

"Let myself be the subject of any experimentation you wish to partake in," said All for One, ignoring what he'd said." If there are… individuals that you'd like to see enhanced, I could happen to stumble upon them"

Silence.

All for One knew he'd said the right thing.

"You'd work for us ?"

There, his tone was a lot more respectful, just like All for One liked it.

"We'll sign a contract", All for One hastily added. It was an opportunity he had to capitalize on, even though it'd been a half-assed plan. "I'll work for you for a set number of years"

Then, once he was strong enough, he'd destroy everything (and everyone) he'd built and leave Japan – this time definitely.

"What do you want from us ?", asked Nishimura. "Do you expect us to protect you from him ?"

"...you could send me to Tartarus"

Tartarus was an abomination that had appeared as soon as Quirk-enhanced individuals had.

Back during the first Enhanced War, it had been avoided by everyone. People who got too close, who couldn't feel how awful this thing was, had been caught and eaten by the thing.

All for One had avoided it like the plague, sure that whatever that thing was, it bode no good for humanity.

When he'd learned that Japan had weaponized it, he'd wanted to beat the stupidity out of them.

Tartarus wasn't something they could use or control. It was a sentient new species that fed on humans, far more dangerous than what they could ever imagine.

"Let me resume everything you've said : you want Japan to 'protect' you-"

Imprisoning him in exchange for benefits with a timely release sounded better.

He knew Japan would never let him go once they got him, as long as they knew he knew he'd never fulfill his contract.

At least he wasn't cocky enough to ask for absolution.

"- from him, and in exchange you'll distribute Quirks to our people like Santa Claus ?"

This was a world-breaking offer, they both knew it.

All for One had kept most of his activities in Asia and thus didn't have any bad blood with most countries in the West.

To be honest, he was even one of the 'good ones' among the worst individuals on earth.

No one cared that you did human experimentation as long as you weren't advertising your work publicly. The CIA had done it, hell, even Japan and Unit 731 back in the good old days.

A lot of countries still tried to recruit him from time to time, and All for One would've fled to the US in a heartbeat if only he could get out of this goddamn country.

He wasn't physically able to fly for more than ten miles. He'd drown before he'd ever reached land.

"Indeed"

Nishimura scoffed.

The Commission's newly appointed President had the gall to scoff.

"Despite how generous of an offer it is", he said, sarcastic "We do not wish to bring his anger upon us just to save your sorry ass"

"General Shirai could've benefited from it"

Officially, he'd committed sepuku, but everyone with the relevant clearance or network knew he'd been assassinated the same day the two Todorokis had fled the country.

He'd been Quirkless, and he would've survived if he hadn't been.

They'd pinned all the blame of the martial law and its zeal on him. Nothing better than a dead man as a scapegoat, because they can't speak.

"You killed hundreds of thousands of our citizens for decades", drawled Nishimura. "You destroyed Tokyo. Twice. You defiled graves, killed numerous Heroes – Endeavor as of last – and you now wish to bargain ?"

"My value far outweighs any setback"

Nishimura laughed, a dry, wry sort of laugh.

"I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you, but it doesn't"

All for One closed his eye.

Hysteria was brimming under his skin, madness on the verge of spilling like a tidal wave from his barely restrained self.

He still didn't know how Enji Todoroki had managed to find him, and it made each passing second all the more precious.

All for One cursed the man.

He shouldn't have died. This was all his fault. He was in one hell of a mess now.

"By the way", said Nishimura. "You're not the first to offer us a deal… We accepted that one, though"

He plused, and All for One thought he heard him smile.

"He's on his way. I'd say good luck, but we both know I pray he'll make garlands with your guts"

And he hung up.

All for One momentarily froze, watching the phone ring in his hand.

He jerked away and ran out of the phone booth, pushing people around as he did so, eye bulging as if it'd pop out of its socket, saliva wetting the corner of his mouth.

People sent him dirty looks and a few shoved him back in protest.

"There's no need to run"

The hair on the back of All for One's head shot up.

A chill went down his spine.

Slowly, carefully, he turned around.

His ears were ringing, fear and disbelief mixing on his face.

Standing a couple of meters from him, two heads above most people, was Shoto.

People waved around him gracefully yet never touched him as though there was an invisible force field around him.

All for One was elbowed in the stomach.

It awoke the burning pain of his bruised ribs but it was a distant kind of suffering.

All for One was utterly and absolutely terrified.

Icy sweat rolled down his neck.

His heart was thundering, so loud and painful he felt it'd burst.

One leg was half bent, another stretched painfully in the position of a starting runner.

Shoto's eyes were blue and grey, the unnerving apathy more frightening than the red ones' ominous glow.

All for One spun and grabbed a civilian, his hand around her throat, holding her hostage.

She screamed and kicked and people noticed, turning to see what was going on, yet All for One's jittery eyes were strained on Shoto's.

Even though he was holding her, his hand was shaking.

Death, he realized. It was the first time in centuries that he felt the paralyzing fear of death.

Shoto raised a lazy hand, palm towards All for One, as if to tell him to stop.

"If you try anything", he said, choking on his voice, nearly biting his tongue. "I'll-"

The woman's back exploded in a shower of flesh and blood.

All for One blinked, blood dripping down his chin.

Huh ?

People screamed, ran away, walked on each other.

She dropped dead, limply, against All for One's chest.

She had no more back, only a large through wish he could see her humming organs, as though her body hadn't had time to register it was dead.

All for One let her go, stunned, and she flowed between his fingers like water.

"Go ahead", said Shoto, gesturing to the scrambling people. "Take another one"

His eyes spun red.

Black lightning crackled across All for One's chest.

He moved back, the ground breaking under the powerful and sudden move, but Shoto was already there.

He cut his leg to the knee and All for One fell on his stump as if a cut-down tree sagging.

He glided on his blood, raw flash grating against harsh ground, a bolt of pain freezing his brain.

His head snapped back, lightning flashing, hand raised, and Shoto cut his palm in half, his fingers diagonally chopped.

They looked cartoonish as they fell to the floor, weirdly unlike what human fingers should look like.

His cut leg was bubbling, flesh rumbling as if a swarm of bees lived under his skin, growing and rebuilding itself.

Shoto raised his hand but All for One's protection field activated.

Adrenaline fueled him : he poured everything he had into this one, single blast.

Shoto was blasted away, arms crossed in front of his face, coming to a screeching halt meters later.

Mouth pinched by focus, lone eye blazing, All for One's regrown hand squeezed.

Already he expected Shoto to explode, already he turned around, searching for the real one.

But this Shoto didn't move an inch.

All for One worried.

Was it an illusion ? Would pinpointing a detail help him get out of it ?

He moved his hand and-

He had no more hands.

Blood was spurting fountain-like from cleanly sliced wrists.

'It takes a lot to cut through bone so easily', his mind unhelpfully supplied.

A kick in the head sent All for One stumbling to the ground.

A shoe on his neck shoved his head down, bits of dirt sticking to his skin.

All for One's teeth were grinding against the floor.

He couldn't look up.

"Who do you think you're looking at ?"

If All for One had ever believed Shoto wasn't petty, he now knew how wrong he'd been.

He ruthlessly shoved All for One's head down, bashing his head against the floor.

Had it a been a weaker him beneath his shoe, his skull would've popped like a too-ripe fruit.

All for One's teeth broke like shattered glass, icy pain shooting up his gums.

The ground cracked and cracked and cracked and All for One's bloody gum grind on the floor.

"You know", said Shoto casually, hands in his pockets, while pushing All for One with the tip of his shoe. "I was considering recreating this jutsu, the Tsukuyomi"

He could kill him, right here and right now, but he didn't.

This frightened All for One more than anything else could have.

"But then I thought : 'Why bother with an illusion when I can make it real ?' "

He tried lightning : he got shocked with a more powerful bolt.

The reddish protrusions were cut down swiftly, the air blast was not usable because it had to be shot from his mouth, the navel-laser could only start from his navel, and almost all of his physical enhancing Quirks were worth nothing with how battered his body was.

"Nothing else ?"

There was a vicious sort of pleasure in his voice, a twisted glint in his eye.

All for One braced himself.

"What a shame", said Shoto. "Now-"

All for One's skin turned glassy, red eye glowing, the air around him crackling because of the sudden heat.
 
Chapter 257
WARNING : This is an extremely vile, violent, brutal, graphic chapter. Everything depicted here is not straight out of my imagination but rather actual torture methods employed by various people at various times during history.

That's probably the sickest thing I've ever written and will ever write… and I'm still not sure I want that thing associated with my digital footprint. You'll serve as my guinea pigs : if it's too much, I'll tone it down before publishing it on public platforms.

I have marked the safe parts to read with a '–' at the beginning and the end. Feel free to jump there if you don't feel like reading what's happening anymore.

Consider yourself warned.

*

Fire flickered across All for One's skin.

He exhaled smoke as he called for the blasting inferno Enji had been able to summon his whole life.

Yet when he reached inside himself, he found fire and nothing else.

He frow-

Shoto bashed his skull in with the heel of his foot.

All for One's head hit the floor, rebounded, hit the floor again.

"You. dumb. fucker."

His nose broke, smashed to oblivion, and tears wet his eyes. Blood trickled down his face.

Shoto fisted his hair and shoved him up, one foot firmly planted on his lower back, forcing All for One to bend painfully.

"I'm going to break you and I'll enjoy every second of it"



He let go and All for One's head hit the ground.

The weight on his back disappeared, and All for One looked up.

The town square was deserted. Large screens – a smaller replica of Shibuya - were buzzing with life, overlooking him.

Something akin to a whitish dome encased them in a bubble, side streets abruptly interrupted by smoky walls.

Suddenly, the weight on All for One's back disappeared.

Hands on the ground, he pushed to stand up but hands wrapped around his left leg and pulled. He abruptly fell.

Shoto twisted and it snapped.

All for One howled in pain whereas Shoto grabbed his right leg.

"Have you ever heard of the bone-crushing method ?"

Rather than twist, Shoto snapped the leg in two like a twig.

A jolt of pain shook All for One.

"It consists of crushing every bone in a body before dumping it in a ditch. You look like a wet, squishy imitation of a human, something that flows between fingers. Rather tasteless, if you want my opinion, but very effective… Mexican mafias are fond of it. We use it from time to time, in my family, when we need to cover our tracks. When we want people to know what we did, though, we use fire"

Shoto let All for One go.

Legs limp, he was crawling, his nails digging into the ground as he painfully dragged himself forward.

Shoto's head cocked.

"I'll torture you"

All for One's fingers were bloody, nails splintered because he was grating them raw.

"Though because I'm not a total monster, I'll offer you options and you'll choose what you most fancy. Generous of me, isn't it ?"

Sweat dampened All for One's face.

Heaving, brows furrowed, he knew exactly what Shoto was doing: giving choices between bad and worst was a common torture tactic to make your victim feel as if they had a hand in their treatment - as if they deserved it.

All for One spit on Shoto's shoe, defiant.

Shoto merely wiped it on All for One's cheek, dead eyes boring into him.

"A tough one"

Then he crouched, a shadow looming ominously over All for One's face.

His eyes crinkled.

"I hoped you'd refuse just so I could break you down"

All for One blinked and Shoto wasn't there anymore.

Haggard, he looked around. He was all alone.

"Sw-"

There was a hand in his mouth. All for One choke on fingers that weren't his.

It took him a moment to realize that Shoto was pulling his tongue out.

"Not happening"

He cleanly cut it.

The chopped part cleanly sprang from his mouth as though a lasso snapping back to its owner after having hit its target.

All for One turned bloodless then violently red.

The rough edges of what was left of his teeth grazed his severed, fleshy tongue.

Hot, salty blood was filling his mouth, constricting his throat.

He screamed and thrashed and Shoto, one negligent hand holding him down as though he were a dog, observed the blood-dripping tongue with wonder, eyebrows raised.

"Never cut anyone's tongue. It's longer than I expected"

He dangled the meat in front of All for One's nose.

The sight – but especially the smell of himself, raw and bloody, made him sick.

He thought he saw it twitch.

Shoto saw fear, terror then anger flash through All for One's lone eye.

Thought it was the smell of weakness that darkened his gaze and jolted awake his vicious side.

"Eat it"

Blood was overflowing from All for One's mouth, rolling down his chin.

He reeled back, frowning, and the sudden gesture meant he swallowed a lot of blood.

He choked and Shoto's fingers were in his mouth, foreign yet covered in his blood, so numerous he couldn't tell which were his and which was the tongue, though he knew that had he had teeth, he would've bitten them to death.

Shoto pushed the flesh until it hit All for One's back throat.

He gagged. This was his own flesh. He was going to eat himself.

"If you throw up", said Shoto lazily, head cocked. "I'll cut your fingers and make you eat them all one by one"

All for One's throat constricted.

He did not chew, swallowed everything.

He threw up.

Shoto clicked his tongue while shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Look at what you've forced me to do"

All for One's hand were half regrown.

Shoto cut down the fingers, knife hitting the phalanx so it would hurt that much more.

He rolled the chopped fingers curiously in his hand as though they were marbles he intended to play with.

"Maybe raw flesh isn't the way to go with that kind of stuff"

Fire burst in Shoto's palm as he cooked them.

The smell was enough to make All for One gag.

It was himself that was burning, himself that he would eat.

"That's your fault", berated Shoto. "You should've eaten your tongue. Why didn't you eat your tongue ? If you don't eat these, I'll cut your dick and force-feed it to you"

He shoved two fingers in All for One's mouth.

"Swallow"

All for One's nostrils flared.

Burnt was worse because the fingers were that much more consistent, and the smell and taste lingered in his mouth long after the flesh had been swallowed.

As much as he could, All for One tried not to chew but rather swallow them quickly. It was difficult for most of his digits were long, fleshy things.

He tried to hold back the gagging that was coming from deep inside his chest, but sometimes he couldn't help it and spit out everything, though he kept his mouth closed shut so it wouldn't get out, and then he had to make the actual choice of swallowing everything, puke and blood and half-chewed fingers.

The first digit painfully rolled down his throat.

He was acutely aware of the way it went down inside him, felt it as it hit the bottom of his stomach, and settled there, his finger in his stomach.

"Good boy", Shoto praised. His eyes were steel, miles from the warm tone he was affecting. "Again"

So he did.

At some point, All for One couldn't bear anymore the assessing eyes, prying and dissecting each flex of his jaw, each regular exhalation as though it were observing a particularly rare animal.

All for One finished the fingers.

He opened his mouth, tongue lolling, waiting for another one to be shoved down his throat, yet none came.

Shoto mocked him.

"Eager, aren't we ?"

All for One's mouth closed shut. Humiliation was a burning poison in his veins.

"Look who's angry now. Though don't worry, we've only started – and I know you're gonna love this one"

Goosebumps broke across All for One's back and neck.

Again, Shoto disappeared, leaving All for One in a phantom city.

He wouldn't wait to see what this psychotic kid had in store for him.

All for One's legs had healed until the knees. His bloody fingers dug in the harsh ground.

Slowly, he dragged himself forward.

His goal was the closest edge of the dome, one side street away.

His thighs were coalescent fire, the growing parts slapped by the harsh wind, the pain so excruciating it momentarily blinded All for One, every other thought vanishing from his mind.

He crawled past the dead woman, crawled painfully slowly towards freedom.

He was scared the boy would come back, scared of what he'd do once he'd realized what All for One was attempting.

That's when he heard voices, just a shop away.

If he flew then-

Why wasn't his Quirk working ?

All for One grew increasingly more panicked as he realized that none of his Quirks worked.

Above, the barrier rippled, and the voices left.

Shoto appeared next to him, eyes crinkling.

"Did you think people were coming to save you ?"

He laughed.

"I could keep you here for decades and no one would bat an eye. Nobody cares about what happens to you – except me"

"What- what have you done to me ?"

Shoto crowed as he dragged him back to where they'd started.

"Isn't it ironic ? The great Quirk Thief's getting a taste of his own medicine"

All for One thrashed around, refusing to stay put, and Shoto had to stab All for One at every junction, his kunai embedding themselves in the ground below.

All for One looked like a crucified starfish.

Shoto thought his position was funny, and so he laughed, the sound echoing in the empty streets long after he'd left.

There was a woosh, and he was there again.

He had a dog with him, a large beast with a foaming mouth and dull eyes, neck lowered in submission.

"What, you thought somebody was coming to save you ?"

Shoto nudged All for One's cheek with the tip of his shoe.

"Nobody cares what happens to you"

All for One's eyes were strained on the dog.

He'd heard of that one : the dog would eat him alive, piece by piece, until All for One begged for it to stop.

Because it was the whole point, wasn't it ?

Shoto wanted All for One to beg and scream and plead. He wanted All for One to know that his submission would buy him a way out.

He wanted All for One to know that he had utter power over him, that his existence meant nothing.

Shoto falsely affectionately scratched the dog between his ears.

"And now you're thinking : 'he's gonna use that thing and make it eat me' "

Shoto scoffed.

He didn't bother explaining what was so funny, and this made All for One all the more uneasy.

He let the dog, a large, dark, powerful thing down.

A string of saliva was hanging from the corner of its jowl.

Some fell in All for One's eye.

He blinked profusely to get it out, didn't manage to. He didn't dare wipe his face with his bloodied hands. He'd get an infection, and he'd need every bit of energy he could muster to get out of here.

Shoto grabbed All for One's pants and tugged it down to the tights, leaving him but ass naked in the street.

The cold air on his bare skin was like a slap.

All for One frowned, flushed, cursed, told the kid to stop messing around and get his pants up.

Shoto's now red eyes were swirling as he ordered the dog.

"Get to work"

All for One watched in muted horror as the dog walked around, head down, mindless puppet, until he was standing between All for One's thighs.

All for One screamed like never before, thrashed around wildly, madness and fear shining on his ashy white face.

Shoto propped himself casually next to All for One, amusement clear on his face.

Forget about getting his body : All for One would break the little shit-

The dog moved.

Its paws were on All for One's thighs, nails clawing raw the sensitive flesh there.

All for One stilled, lone eye wide, refusing to accept what was going to happen.

Shoto met his gaze. His eyes crinkled.

The dog moved.

It was relentless, its little hairy hips moving back and forth against All for One's ass. It was panting, saliva falling between his buttocks and acting as a lubricant.

Jaw clenched, All for One raised himself slowly, sweat dripping down his forehead, torn flesh burning as it went up and down, up and down, hitting the knife's handles.

"If you try to fight it", said Shoto. "It will still happen and I'll dismember you slowly and make you eat yourself"

All for One turned red.

Never, in his whole life, had he treated anyone with such-

All for One still rose, shaking his hips violently, managing to shake the dog off him – it yapped sadly, as though hurt.

All for One bared his bloodied leftover teeth at Shoto as if to say bring it on.

Shoto scoffed.

All for One blinked, and the next second he was back on his stomach, cheek on a growing sea of blood, arms chopped down to the shoulders, legs nonexistent beneath his buttocks.

His limbs were piled neatly next to him, as though logs ready for a fire – or meat for a barbecue.

Shoto was sitting on his back, arms crossed, making it hard for him to breathe.

He was but a head attached to a torso from which hang buttocks.

All for One closed his eyes, shaking, trying to dissociate from what was happening.

Shoto grabbed his head and forced him to look over his shoulder.

"It's brilliant. You don't want to miss the spectacle"

All for One's lone eye was barely open, a slit behind which you could only see red.

Each time the dog moved, each time it rubbed against him, hot breath hitting his ass, All for One could feel himself crumbling some more.

It wasn't just the humiliation – it was because it was a dog.

All for One was less than a man, not better than an animal.

How could he ever recover from- from-

Who could he ever face after that ?

He- he couldn't-

"Now we're getting to the good part"

The dog grunted, quicker, and All for One's body shook under its relentless assault.

He closed his eyes when it released.

Chunks of himself were falling like broken pieces of a mirror, swept away by the wind.

Anger at what was happening – disgust that he let it happen. Humiliation, humiliation, humiliation.

Fear.

"Not broken yet ?", said Shoto, head tilting. "Then we're not doing it well enough" His eyes snapped to the dog. "Again"

All for One's mind went blank.

The groaning, shaking, panting, and the undoubtedly humiliating yet final release before it started all over again. His thighs were warm then cold, a sticky substance covering him like a second skin. Shoto changed dog, twice.

The movements were frantic, excited then desperate, energized then tired, and All for One was only a bag of meat and bones, not a man, not better-

"- than a dog", said Shoto. "Look at how still you are. You're-"

-enjoying it, you like it, don't you ? I brought it upon myself, that's my fault, the consequences of my actions.

At some point, he couldn't remember his own name.

The sun went higher then down, up from the other end of the street then down.

"Again", said Shoto.

Again.

Someone brought water to All for One's cracked lips

There was blood on his chin, bits of flesh coating his skin.

A pile of bones rested nearby, humerus and radius and ulna, femur and tibia, all licked clean.

"You're not hungry, are you ? I could still bring you something, if you want"

The mere thought of eating made him want to throw up.

He didn't dare look the vile boy in the eye as he barely shook his head.

"Let's get to the next step, then"

There was a bag on Shoto's thighs. Salt.

He scattered it like snow over All for One's raw body.

There were screams, loud and unyielding, a physical response to physical torture, yet his mind was a void, shattered, far from his physical pains.

The boy asked something – what, All for One couldn't be sure.

He seemed to grow impatient.

Then, a gentle hand came to rest over All for One's head. Its fingers dug crescents into the smooth skin.

Hair grew at the top of All for One's head, just behind his hairline and down to the tip of his ears, no more.

A knife ran across All for One's face, going from behind the hair down to his chin with surgical precision, as though carving a mask in flesh.

Then, the boy grabbed the hairline and pulled.

All for One blacked out.

Something was burning.

He blinked, groggy, eye watery as he surveyed the place.

It was nighttime.

There was a large bonfire and reddish smoke, a tall man covered in blood from head to toe dancing around it, arms raised as though he were praying to some deity, limbs bent abnormally, jumping and cackling madly, three dogs barking happily and running behind him, sinister procession.

Abruptly, the man stopped.

His face slowly turned to him.

The breath caught in All for One's throat.

There was a thin, translucent sheet covering the man's features. He cocked his head as though smiling, and you could see it beneath the unfitting mask.

All for One's shaky fingers rose to his face. It was raw and bloody. There was no skin.

It was his face the man was wearing.

His eyes rolled to the back of his skull.

"Don't move"

The boy was close, his fingers brushing All for One's skin, retreating and coming back.

He had a sudden urge to scratch his skin.

"I said not yet"

Thus he didn't, but the itch was growing increasingly more mind-rattling.

The palm hovering over his skin glowed green.

He felt his skin regrown, bones mending quickly.

In mere seconds, his face was as good as new, yet slightly different in a way he couldn't pinpoint.

Yet there was still the itch, irritating and overwhelming.

"Go ahead", said the wicked boy

His fingers went to his cheek – he scratched, but his nails bumped on some uneven patch of skin. His fingers went back and forth over it, his pulp pressed as he tried to get a feel as to what it was.

Heart beating, he brought his hands to his face – there again, just below his left eye, it felt like some kind of- of marble ? And inside his upper lip was something uncomfortably moving when he cocked his head, something grainy like dirt or sand.

He patted his face, scratching turning frantic as he realized there were things beneath his skin, things that he tried to scratch away only for the itch to increase until it was overbearing and he drew the first blood.

Shoto's gaze was apathetic as he watched All for One claw his skin raw, fleshy shreds unraveling from his face like ribbons, red drops rolling down his neck like tears.

"Stop it"

He couldn't.

"Stop it or I bring back the dogs"

His hands froze.

"Good. Now we'll play a little game"

The boy pointed at the phone booth, a couple of meters away.

"If you manage to reach it before I finish my countdown, I'll kill you. If not, well..."

His fingers tapped on a cage. There was a rat inside, nose up as he walked around the cage, intrigued by the blood-heavy air.

"Do you agree ?"

All for One licked his dry lips.

It wasn't a question, they both knew it.

He showed his tied-up legs.

"Will you free me ?"

His voice was hoarse, raspy as if he hadn't talked in days.

He briefly looked at the sun.

It'd been raining when they'd encountered each other, and the sun had been a bit higher the last time he'd bothered to look up. Most of the blood spilled was dark and dry, the freshest two shades clearer.

He'd been here for a while – at least days.

"Of course"

He had to get out.

The boy walked forward, and All for One flinched when he raised his hand to take off the bindings.

"10"

His palm glowed green and he cleanly cut through his knees, chopping off half of his legs.

All for One's scream was one of surprise as much as it was pain.

The boy's eyes glinted.

"9"

His regeneration didn't even kick in, couldn't because he was too exhausted.

All for One pushed himself on his stomach and crawled forward, heart thumping, body shaking under the exertion, tears bubbling in his eyes.

He hadn't wanted to fight Endeavor- it was fucking Endeavor who'd thrown himself at him and now-

Now he had to- he-

"Looks like you lost"

The boy's shoe was on his forehead, forcing All for One's head back as though he wanted to get a better look at him. His face itched, the things beneath his skin moving.

"On your back"

He painfully rolled to the side.

The boy put the rat box on his naked stomach, sliding part against All for One's skin. He knew what was coming. So he begged.

The boy, until now cool and aloof, abruptly grabbed All for One's jaw, eyes blazing, a vein throbbing on his forehead.

"You have no.fucking.right.to.beg"

He let go of All for One so violently his cheek rebounded on the ground.

Shoto took off the cage's lidded floor : the rat's small paws brushed uncertainly against his skin. His nose skimmed over his stomach.

"Did he beg you ?", asked Shoto, shaking. "Did you let him grab your wrist when he realized what was happening ?"

The cage turned scorching hot.

All for One could feel the rat cowering because of the heat, nervously walking around to find a way out.

It started clawing at All for One's torso, its little nails digging in the soft flesh first hesitantly and then with growing energy.

All for One howled in pain as his skin then flesh was torn apart, his body, warm and alive, dug into as though it were ground.

"Was he afraid at the end ?"

He craned his neck to watch the process, chin on his neck, neck muscles straining, unable to look away from the slow and inexorable destruction of his body, the maddening transformation from a living being to a corpse.

He felt the rat squirming, gnawing at his intestines, munching on his body slowly and-

There.

All for One started choking on his own blood, eye bulging, contorting on the ground.

Shoto bent forward and took off his mask, screaming in All for One's face, spit flying everywhere, eyes shining with madness and something else, something more vulnerable.

"Were you even there when he died ?"

His voice broke, and All for One's hand reached forward, asking for help, another clawing at his throat.

For a moment the boy stayed there, wild and shattered, and All for One thought it'd be the end.

Then the glowing hand reached his chest and tore the rat out before his torn lung mended itself.

"I hate you"

If he could've spoken, All for One would've said it was a mutual feeling.

The boy turned away, shoulders hunched, arms crossed on his propped-up knees.

All for One looked at him, and his mouth spoke before he could think because none of this would matter once he was dead, and he knew he wouldn't get out of here – not alive, at least :

"The last thing he said was your name"

Shoto stilled.

The sun was high behind him, outlining his body as if it he were made of fire.

He brushed his eyes with his forearm.

"You're lying", he said quietly.

They lapsed in silence.

At some point, All for One blacked out.

When he awoke, it was to something hot and wet. It took him a moment to realize that one of the dogs was pissing on him.

Some leaked into his dry mouth and throat, and All for One pursed his lips to avoid the worst of it.

There was a whistling, and the dog didn't finish his piss that he barked and moved away, pee trickling down his fur.

Shoto sat cross-legged next to All for One, looking at the rising sun.

All for One's dead eye was strained on him, eyelid half-closed, the other one fully closed.

"We're not done yet"

All for One wasn't surprised.

He couldn't muster up the energy to care as Shoto crucified him, hooks that tore holes through his wrists and ankles, or as his organs were dissected, his torso's skin - or what was left of it - pinned to the floor as if he were a frog in a biology class.

His lone, dull eye locked on an invisible dot in the ground and he never looked away, even when his bones were drilled or his genitalia rendered non-functional by electric shocks.

The screams and the pain were far away from him, present but hidden behind a wall of smoke.



All for One had shrunk on himself, arms around himself, knees to his chest glassy eyes wide open and mouth open in a silent scream.

Shoto lit up a cigarette.

He smoked slowly, rubbed absentmindedly a cheek coated in dried blood.

His fingers were all red, as were the ax and the saw next to him.

"You'd like to die, wouldn't you ?"

He'd asked the question casually, as though he were talking about the weather, but he didn't even look at All for One.

The vicious glint in his eyes had disappeared a while ago, as though everything he was doing was now out of duty and not some animal thirst for pain.

All for One blinked because he physically had to blink, but that was everything Shoto got.

He was broken, a shell of flesh inhabited by a flickering human soul.

"I won't let that happen"

No anger, no emotion, just a statement.

Silent tears ran down All for One's cheeks, but his eyes were wide and expressionless.

"See", continued Shoto. "I kind of know what comes after death. Considering the span of your life and all of the human experimentations and other awful things you must've done, your karmic points should be even worse than what mine were two decades ago"

The cigarette's tip glowed red, just like the sun.

"You'll reincarnate, just like everybody else in this goddamn universe, and you'll live a shitty life, but the next one may not be as shitty, and the one after may even be slightly bearable, and it'll keep on getting better and better"

Shoto took something out of his pocket.

"I can't accept that"

Tears were puddling on the floor, wetting All for One's cheek.

"You've taken the only thing that ever truly mattered to me, be it in this life or the previous one"

Something cold and soft gently brushed against All for One's skin : he flinched, tried to move away.

"For that, I won't ever let you rest in peace"

His skin was cold and sticky, covered by an unknown substance.

"I'm gonna become your Jinchuriki, All for One"

'Human sacrifice'.

That's the only thing his mind could supply.

There was a sharp burst of pain, a white-hot searing burn that started from his chest and rose his hair to the tip of his toes.

All for One howled when he thought he had not enough voice left to, writhed when he'd thought his body unable to move. His mind shattered, went blank, exploded like an obliterated mirror, shards flying everywhere, burning his skin and scorching his spirit.

If people had souls, he felt the thing splitting in his chest would be his.

All for One was torn apart, snapped like a twig, half of him left behind to die and the other sucked away, his mind extending as it strained to keep him whole until it couldn't.

And all of a sudden, All for One ceased to be.
 
Letter One
Note : Things between [ ] are supposed to be crossed, but the formating doesnt work on this website.

*

I did it.

I think you'd care, if only you could know I avenged you. You wouldn't be proud of how I did it, though, [but it doesn't matters because you're not here]

I know you're not watching over me and I know we'll never meet again and I know writing to dead people is the [dumbest] not the best way of coping [but I just wish you were here]

I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be the moment when I tell you that it wasn't satisfying, that I feel bad about what I've done, but that would be lying and you never liked when I lied to you, so I'll tell you the truth : it felt nice. Great, even. We both know I mostly did it for myself.

I know that if it was that day again and I couldn't reach you in time I would do everything the same, maybe even worse and I feel so stupid writing my thoughts on some paper as if I were in therapy and [as if you'd ever read it because you certainly don't even remember me, wherever you are]

I miss you so much sometimes it gets overwhelming.

I'm sorry if I disappointed you, I'm sorry if I wasn't as good of a son as I could've been, I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I lo
 
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Chapter 258
The large, white dome remained unbothered for twelve days straight.

No one got in, no one got out.

There'd been one known civilian casualty and maybe a few others, though they may as well have been trapped by mistake and were hiding somewhere. As long as they steered clear of the plaza, they should be fine.

"Sir"

President Nishimura raised his head from a report he was reading.

A mix of soldiers and Commission employees had secured the place and nobody knew why they'd quarantined the place – rumors about a virus or a gas pipe breaking had kept civilians at bay, though not the journalists.

At least the weather had been nice during the last week, so the watchkeeping hadn't been as much of a chore as it could've been. The sky was turning an ominous grey, though.

"Any breakthrough with the barrier ?"

They'd never seen anything quite like that, as soft as a pillow yet hard enough that no bullet or heavy weapon could pierce it. They'd gotten a few physicists and chemists started on the research, but none had yet managed to get a bit out of the barrier without it dissolving into thin air.

"I think he's getting out"

Nishimura took off his glasses, and indeed the milk-white barrier was rippling.

Right in the middle of their settlement – as though the boy knew where they were – Shoto got out, covered in blood, holding a severed head by its scalp.

Flesh threads were hanging from the chopped-off neck like bloody ribbons. The wind whooshed and the head was swept around like an overinflated balloon.

Everybody froze.

Nishimura's features morphed from pure shock to marveling astonishment.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw several people instinctively back away. Someone gagged.

Shoto looked at them dully, raising the severed head as he would have a trophy.

He threw it on the ground, and it made a wet sound when it fell, rolling in the dirt for a few meters.

When Nishimura looked up, the boy had already disappeared.

*

When he got home, Teka waited for him in the living room.

She held a cup with both hands, the yellow liquid bubbling then popping, brows slightly furrowed as she gazed through the window.

Blood was dripping from Shoto's clothes on the large Persian rug. He smelt a rancid mix of sweat and death.

She locked eyes with him, a silent understanding passing between them.

She walked to him then engulfed him in a hug, barely tall enough to reach his shoulder. He held her close, arms slightly shaking now that it was done.

"Thank you", she said

There was blood on his shirt but now it was also wet with quiet tears.

*

"I don't care about the money"

"This is neither about the money nor the buildings or lands", Teka rebutted. "This is about your father's legacy, Shoto. He entrusted your mother to give you everything. Sign, and everything shall be yours"

She slid pen and contract to him.

He looked down at it, arms crossed, conflicted.

"I'm my father's legacy"

Teka sighed.

"Of course you are", she mumbled.

She'd taken some medicine earlier but she still felt weak and the boy kept on giving her headaches – and here she'd thought she'd be less worried about him once he'd finally come back from his two-week trip…

This kid was nerve-wracking, that she could admit. It was a wonder how Enji had managed to handle him.

And as always when she thought of her son, there was a sharp pang in her chest.

"He built me, not these. I have no interest in stones and cement"

Teka's eyes grew sharp.

"Not even The Endeavor Tower ?"

Shoto looked at her coolly.

They hadn't talked about it but she knew-

There was a knock on the door.

"Ma'am"

One of her men's head slid by the half-opened door.

Shoto was already gazing through the window, suddenly uninterested in worldly matters, eyes dull and face cold, physically there but mentally on another plane of existence.

She pursed her lips. She'd lost his attention once more.

"He's here"

She hid the documents under a few unimportant ones.

"Come in", Teka said

She didn't stand up – as didn't Shoto, but she was half sure it was because he hadn't realized somebody else had come in, self-absorbed as he was - and the man bowed shallowly.

His black eyes slid to Shoto, a tinge of worry – not fear – on his face.

Teka invited him to sit and she'd half expected him to shy away from the couch on which sat her grandson, but he settled next to him, not close enough to be uncomfortable.

"Thank you for receiving me on such short notice"

Teka smiled pleasantly, diplomat she was.

"It is our pleasure, sir… ?"

"Aizawa. Shota Aizawa"

Which she knew beforehand.

Her eyes glowed.

"Delighted to meet you"

Everyone here saw her as this eccentric, crazy rich old woman who'd decided to dot upon her grandson after his father's death.

They saw Shoto and she hid in his shadow, deadly as a snake, ready to strike whoever would stand in their path.

"I am here on behalf of our government as well as Yuei's, the Heroic School"

He was no government official, though, just a quirkless man who'd been stripped of what had made him a god among men.

Though, Quirkless or not, he sure had the balls to come in the devil's den when no one else would only to officially deliver news she was already aware of.

She wondered if someone had forced him to, but the way he kept shooting Shoto's side glances made her think it was personal.

He fully turned to Shoto whereas Teka grabbed the first letter, skimming over the contents to what most interested her.

"On behalf of the Japanese government and for services rendered to our nation, you've been officially absolved"

Shoto snorted.

Teka looked up.

aizawa's startled gaze settled on him.

"Absolved", he repeated, a faraway look in his eyes.

They waited but this was the extent of what he'd wanted to say.

"… indeed", said Aizawa. "You have been… brave"

Shoto blinked slowly, and she knew he wasn't with them anymore.

"What is it that Yuei wished for us to know ?", she asked.

The man looked back at her, slightly uncomfortable.

"The headmaster wanted to let Shoto know that his… position as pupil was still available. We'd gladly welcome him back"

Shoto was still looking outside.

Teka was casually drinking her tea, looking unaffected.

"Is it ?"

What would Shoto do in a Heroic school ?

Enji she could understand but Shoto – Shoto was more like her than Enji had been alike her husband.

Had she not known who was directing it, she would've thought them incompetent fools.

"He is free to resume his studies whenever he wants and we won't hold him back"

"How generous of you"

She wondered what was the point because everybody knew Shoto wasn't Hero material – especially after what he'd done to All for One…

Was it for the clout ? So that the headmaster could say he'd tamed the beast everybody was so afraid of ? Or did he have another agenda ?

"Though I am afraid to say this decision is Shoto's alone to take"

Even his own name didn't manage to bring him back to earth.

aizawa turned to him.

"You know", he said. "Your father graduated from Yuei"

Shoto perked up, shot him an assessing glance.

Aizawa shrugged.

"Maybe it would do you some good to see what the world has to offer"

" … I'll think about it"

A maybe was infinitely better than his catatonic state, though she didn't approve of the type of school he was to enroll in – if she was sure of one thing though, it was that he wouldn't become a Hero.

Had it been a normal school, Teka would've offered to finance an observatory or modernize a few buildings to secure the headmaster's ear and favor.

Here, Shoto already had both.

"What about tuition costs ?", she asked. "Should I write you a check or do you prefer cash ?"

They talked papers and requirements and she noticed Shoto's thoughtful expression.

The discussion finished aizawa hovered longer than necessary, obviously hesitating about saying something.

"This new Hero, Flame..."

He was an up-and-coming Hero like many others, not remarkable enough to catch anybody's attention, yet he'd been in the public eye since he'd started talking about buying The Endeavor Tower.

Last week, he'd been murdered.

His body had been found at the foot of Endeavor's Tower, his bowels displayed on the stairs.

Something had tingled in aizawa's mind, and he hadn't been able to shake that feeling since then.

"Did you kill him ?"

Shoto leveled him with a blank gaze.

"Yes"

aizawa nodded, looked around uncertainly, eyes settling on the woman who was calmly stirring her tea, expecting a reaction from her, yet she only kept stirring her tea.

aizawa awkwardly got up, greeted the Todoroki – was answered with a small, dismissive nod - then left.

He wondered what it had come to that Shoto could openly admit to murder and that no one would do anything against him.

*

"I heard you've recovered All for One's remains ?", asked Nezu pleasantly

Nishimura cursed.

God only knew how Nezu always knew what he did.

"Merely his head", said coolly Nishimura. "His body was damaged beyond repair"

False : Shoto had simply burned it to the ground.

There'd been scattered ashes and the outline of a charred corpse seared in the ground and nothing else.

That was quite irksome as they had a few research projects that would've benefited from it but oh, well, you couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I assume it means the head is intact ?"

Nishimura drew a circle on his desk with the tip of his finger.

He knew what Nezu wanted, and Nezu knew what he knew – he just didn't want to make it too easy for the rat.

"As intact as it could've been after what was done to it"

'Damaged' would've been an understatement.

If All for One had to bear any of this torture – and he most certainly did – then Nishimura nearly pitied him. Nearly.

At least the barrier had muffled the noises, and they'd been oblivious to the torture session going on next door.

The unlucky civilians trapped inside hadn't been, though.

They were… well, maybe staging their death at the hands of villains and keeping them under observation would be the wisest choice.

"What about the eye ?"

"The eye ?"

"Eraserhead's eye, stolen by All for One"

Nishimura tapped on his armrest.

"It is mostly intact"

"When can we get it back ?"

Nishimura scoffed.

The audacity of that thing…

"I am afraid you can't get it back"

"It is Aizawa's"

"It was. Now it's an exhibit"

Nezu's patience was running thin, and Nishimura enjoyed every second of it.

"It is Aizawa's. You ought to-"

"We ought to do nothing"

How blissful was it to finally shut the mad rat : to boot, they'd gotten their hands on one of his most powerful weapons, the Quirk erasing one.

If they could find a way to replicate it...

Nezu gritted his teeth.

"Trust me, Nishimura. You do not wish to cross me"

Nishimura merely quirked a brow.

Nezu had never lowered to threaten anybody. It was flattering he was the first to receive preferential treatment.

"...hand me Aizawa's eye"

"No"

Nishimura hung up, as satisfied as a cat who'd eaten the mouse.
 
Chapter 259
"Is it a wise decision ?"

Nezu smiled as he watered his plants though Katsuki couldn't see it.

Clever boy.

"Isn't he your friend ?", he quipped swiftly.

Katsuki frowned.

"He is"

"And don't you want what's best for him ?"

Katsuki thought about their last discussion, weeks ago now, how unfamiliar Shoto had looked in his room, the easiness with which he'd hit him, the knowledge that had he been anyone else, all of the bones in his torso would've been obliterated, his organs, turned liquid, would've spilled out from his orifices.

Katsuki remembered the severed head of All for One, the pools of blood, the torture instruments discarded on the dirtied ground.

Yet Katsuki also remembered the boy who'd held his hands deep in his father's chest for hours, crying over a man who'd already been dead when he arrived.

"I do"

His answer was quiet, and for once the voices weren't talking.

Despite everything, Katsuki wished from the bottom of his heart that Shoto could get better – that he could find peace.

Nezu, as if hearing his thoughts, said :

"Wouldn't the best we can do for him to welcome him in an environment where he can be at peace ?"

Katsuki looked unconvinced, and Nezu had to admit that this word - 'peace' - has a funny way of rolling from his tongue, a tiny bit more high pitched than it should be, a little bit too ironic in a sentence devoid of irony.

"He needs to see that the world is not only violence, not merely him and those that are against him"

Katsuki's lips are pursed.

If there's anybody on earth who can know how true Nezu's words are, it's him, though there's an intermittent tingling at the back of his head, a warning bell that goes on then stops abruptly and starts again.

"Wouldn't the best we can do is get him a shrink ?"

Nezu peered at his hibiscus like a proud father at his child.

He carefully cuts off a few leaves that are slightly brown on the edges.

"What would be the point ? He wouldn't talk to him"

Let alone go to the appointments, they both thought.

"I'm not sure letting him near-" anybody "- the students from 2-A is a good idea"

"Oh that would be an awful idea"

The crease between Katsuki's brows deepened.

"Then why did you invite him to Yuei ?"

Nezu stilled, his assessing gaze settling on Katsuki for a while, and he noticed how easily Katsuki got flustered though he hid it very well.

"What ?", Katsuki finally blurted, defensive

Katsuki was used to getting everything right on the first try, always two steps ahead of his peers.

Nezu makes him feel stupid, leaves him crumbs and watches as he comes again each time for more, never satisfied with what he's gotten.

He slowly got back to his work, acting like he hadn't noticed Katsuki's red ears.

"He's been absolved", Nezu explained. "And though I believe our government is wise enough to leave him to his own devices, I can't say the same for other countries. They'll do their best to recruit him and if not..."

" 'If not' ?", Katsuki repeated.

"What do you do to things you can't control ?"

"You destroy them", Katsuki said, and Nezu smiled at the sliver of self-satisfaction he heard in his voice. Pavlov had nothing on him. "But it would just be stupid. They'd sign their death arrest"

"At the end of the day, Shoto is human – and the first with multiple Quirks that have nothing to do with All for One's abilities. If they can't have him work for them, they won't want anybody else to have him. The same goes for our dear country"

Katsuki's eyes widened.

"You don't mean… ?"

"They'll either try to get him to work for them", Nezu said. "Or they'll annihilate him"

Noticing Katsuki's tensed expression, Nezu couldn't help but add wryly :

"Nothing has changed, Katsuki. It was bound to happen one day or another, Endeavor's death or not. His sudden disappearance has just accelerated what had started years ago"

Enji Todoroki had been the leash, and now they only had a rabid dog who'd killed one of the most powerful beings on earth as if he were a mere cockroach.

This was bound to make people sweat and, admittedly, Nezu hadn't expected Shoto to do it with such ease.

It was disconcerting. Terrifying, too. Useful…

"Though Shoto is far from a fool. Once he stops wallowing in self-pity, he'll quickly choose a wide. Despite what they've done, the Commission is my best bet. Special Forces wouldn't cut it as he's got a strong dislike for one of their most prominent members. The military may be viable..."

And there was also his monster of a grandmother.

Somebody as powerful and well-connected as Teka Todoroki entering Japanese grounds didn't go unnoticed.

This woman led an empire that spanned five continents and was believed to employ hundreds of thousands of people – some aware of who they worked for, most not – and had an entire country at her beck and call. Should she feel the need to, she could push Europe to start a war with them – if Italy didn't directly jump to their throat.

Years ago Nezu had thought it wise to accept Enji Todoroki's application at Yuei, hiding his lineage from the government to not raise suspicions, nurturing another of his little prodigy that would expand his influence once they were older.

Now he wondered if it hadn't been a miscalculation on his part.

Teka had moved numerous pawns here during the last thirty years…

Nezu was aware that she'd received a couple of officials and unofficial letters asking her to leave Japan or they'd consider it a war declaration. It was a bluff : Japan was too weakened to act on their threat.

The worrying thing was that Teka hadn't even bothered answering their queries and, from what Nezu had garnered, she'd even brought in more of her militia, mafia, or whatever the hell they were.

Shoto was a monster, but this woman truly was a picture-perfect one-man army.

Katsuki opened his mouth, frowned, analyzed carefully what Nezu had said, backpedaled instantly.

"What they've done ?"

Nezu stilled, closed his eyes briefly.

He puts down the watering can and faces the teen standing in full Heroic gear.

He was cleverer than All Might was at his age but not as jaded as he could've been considering everything that happened.

"You didn't get it ? I thought you of all people would've noticed..."

There, sting his pride and Katsuki will eat in your hand.

Nezu sighed dramatically, shaking his head as he did so.

"Never mind. It will do no good to talk about it"

"I can't agree if you do not tell me what you're talking about"

Nezu walked to his desk and moved a few papers around, acting busy.

"Thank you for your time, Dynamight, though I believe it is late and you have other duties you may wish to attend"

"I'm not leaving"

"It's nothing of importance"

"You don't trust me"

Nezu put down the document he was skimming over.

"It has nothing to do with trust"

"It has if you refuse to tell me what you're acting all weird 'bout"

Nezu, paws crossed, looked thoughtful as he watched Katsuki.

Trust was a weird concept : he held a near fanatic obsession with Japan only because they were the ones who'd rescued him from his lab and allowed him to be more than a failed experiment, whereas Katsuki held Shoto in such high esteem only because the boy had saved him from a certain death at the hands of All for One in the now infamous summer camp fiasco.

Duty and appreciation shaped Katsuki and Nezu, though they both acted significantly differently on it.

"Alright", Nezu conceded. "I'll tell you but I trust you not to tell a word to a soul – especially not Shoto. He may be aware of it, you are not to discuss it with him, understood ?"

Katsuki's mouth thinned briefly at the mention of his friend. He nodded sharply.

"I swear. Now what is this all about ?"

*

As soon as he passed the threshold of the room, all of the conversations died.

Everyone stood there, speechless, as Shoto went to his seat and took his school supplies out.

He didn't speak and wasn't spoken to, he doesn't look and he's not looked at.

There were fewer people than he remembered, but he didn't care enough to count who was still here and who had left.

A couple of students left the class and didn't come until the afternoon.

At lunch, Shoto doesn't go to the cafeteria but eats home-cooked bentos at his desk or perched in a tree, far from everybody else. In his pocket is the unopened letter addressed to him.

During the practical portion of training he stayed on his own a bit further away, working out with weight-enhanced seals, sweating profusely, a couple of his clones working on his fuinjutsu where everybody could see them.

He showered when everyone else was done, got to his room, and cleaned it thoroughly until late in the night. It was full of dust and cobwebs, but judging from the lack of blood on the floor, nobody poked around and got killed by his traps.

On the second day, Kirishima greeted him shyly.

Shoto was looking outside, gaze dull, hair a mess, and his eyes minutely turned to the boy.

He looked back to the training grounds covered in grass and wondered what Yuei was like for his father, if he had friends, if he was always angry and confused.

On the rooftop, as he watched the furthest thing he could see on the school grounds, he put himself in his shoes and tried to see what the world looked like for him at seventeen, full of wonder and possibilities.

He could become anything he wants.

Shoto could, too, but in some way, everything had been set in stone since the beginning.

He accepts it. That's the major difference between who he was before his father's death and who he is now.

He won't ever shy away from his true self, won't try to bury it beneath false kindness and pretended humanity.

On the third day, Katsuki was waiting for him outside of the dormitory, pacing on the fresh grass.

Shoto had felt him a while ago, waited until he landed on the grass before he got out.

His disheveled appearance makes him pause at the top of the stairs.

The students carefully avoided him, scattering like salt in the wind until there was nobody but them and the ringing school bell.

"If you want excuses", Shoto said, voice scratchy. "There's not gonna be any"

He didn't feel sorry, never really had been for anything.

"How could you ?", Katsuki spit out, revulsion dripping like venom from his voice

Shoto's eyes were dull. He blinked.

Katsuki was red in the face.

"Fucking dogs !", he half-screamed as if it explained everything, and it did

"He got what he deserved"

"How could you do that to another human being ? How could you- how can you even look yourself in the mirror ?"

"He touched what wasn't his to touch", Shoto bluntly answered. "He shouldn't have crossed me"

Katsuki shut up and, for the first time, when he looked at Shoto there wasn't compassion or warmth, only confusion and a bottomless well of incomprehension.

For the first time, Katsuki realized he didn't know who was standing before him.

"I thought we were friends" His voice cracked on the last words. He steeled himself. "I always thought you were a bit weird but you always were there for me, so I thought I had to be there for you too. Only now am I realizing that it was not friendship. You don't have friends, only people you can use"

There was a sharp burst in Shoto's chest but it was instantly drowned by the overwhelming pain that had been accompanying him for weeks now.

"Once I was done", Shoto said slowly, numbly. "I pissed on his corpse"

Katsuki turned red and suddenly he was in centimeters from Shoto and they were head to head, one set of eyes blazing the other barely aware of its surroundings.

He grabbed Shoto by the collar of his shirt and screamed angrily in his face :

"Dumb ass, wake the fuck up ! All for One didn't kill your father : the Commission purposefully let him die !"

There was a blink. Another.

A flurry of emotions flashed through Shoto's eyes, too quick for Katsuki to pinpoint them.

He wanted to bite his tongue but couldn't stop now that he'd started.

"He was alive when All for One left", Katsuki said. "They could've saved him but they didn't because they knew you'd hunt All for One to the end of the universe if you had to. They wanted you to do what All Might couldn't do. They used you"

Shoto's eyes were slightly wider, his gaze a tad more alert, and Katsuki wouldn't stop.

"You tortured a man for two weeks straight in the most inhuman ways possible. You're a fucking monster, do you know that ?" Spit flew out of his mouth as he screamed. "I regret every second I spent defending you. I should've stepped aside when they told me they wanted to kill you"

He let him go and left without another look back.

Shoto stared into space.

He stayed at the top of the stairs until the end of the first period.

When the bell rang, he automatically started walking to where he knew the next class would be held.

It was a fight practice. They were an even number, thus somebody had to pair with him.

They were nervous. He barely noticed a slightly nervous Kirishima jogging toward him, sending reassuring looks to his friends, looks that said 'don't worry about him, he's just like us'-

He was alive when All for One left.

-and suddenly Kirishima is on the ground, eyes wide, forearms protecting his face.

Shoto's eyes are glazed as he hits him, the fog surrounding his mind clearing until he's all sharp edges once more.

[Bargaining] Anger

"Hey", Kirishima said under the flurry of hits, voice wobbly, and there was fear there. "You won, just let me-"

Shoto's fist split his head in two like a hammer pummeling a watermelon.

There were screams.

Something thicker than blood trickled between Kirishima's eyebrows and down his nose.

Shoto hit again because when you get the enemy down you need to make sure they're dead.

Kirishima's nose broke first before his cheekbones exploded, his face losing structure, his lips split open like earth when a volcano sprouts from the ground.

Shoto was an animal in the body of a man, a monster whose cracking skin was barely holding him together.

The sound of his fists hitting and breaking flesh echoed endlessly in his mind and out of it, mixing until the only sound he heard was that of his heavy breathing.

Everyone had fled.

One of them was crawling, her legs having given up on her. Someone else threw up. People are crying.

"It's messy, Shoto"

The familiar voice chilled him to the bone.

He rose like a possessed man, fists raw and bloody, panting, slowly turning around, freezing as his eyes settled on the man standing among the teenagers.

"Oh my god", somebody muttered. "Oh my god"

Shoto took a step towards his father, shaky hand raised, and the students dispersed from his vicinity as quickly as they were his father's.

Hysteria swept over them.

They were all screaming or curling up on the ground, head between their locked knees, frantically rocking back and forth, wild eyes going from a dead boy and a man who should be dead, madness teetering at the edge.

"Leave", Dad said "You can't stay here. Leave"

"Is it true ?", Shoto wondered out loud, eyes wet, and the double meaning wasn't lost on Enji.

"Leave before they imprison you again"

Shoto looked around, uncertain and dry-mouthed, unable to notice the dead boy or the delirious teenagers.

"Come with me"

He grabbed his father's extended hand and although his smell wasn't quite right and he didn't feel like the sun, Shoto knew it was the best he'll ever manage.

Enji squeezed his hand and they both disappeared.
 
Chapter 260
FOUR MONTHS LATER

"He's emulating his father. He'll serve our country devotedly"

"He killed a boy"

"It was months ago"

"He's unstable. Nobody can tell for sure what's going on inside his mind. We can't trust him"

The other shrink snorted.

"He's been working for us for the last couple of months. I think it's a bit late to think about his trustworthiness"

"We can still backtrack", the other one insisted. "He's been doing small assignments-"

"-that he's acing"

"-but once he gets in the big league we won't be able to stop him. Covert operations will give him enough dirt on us for him to bury us all"

"Can't he already ?"

There was a silence.

"And if it comes to the worst", said the other one. "We still have Jin Woo"

They stamped a bold red 'APPROVED' on his file, right across his name.

*

Shoto stood in front of a one-way glass panel, flabbergasted, wide awake as he hadn't been in weeks.

He watched the scientist walk around, chat happily with his coworkers, make a lame joke, and dare to laugh.

He shouldn't have been here. He shouldn't even be alive.

"I've been waiting for you in the briefing room"

Shoto's flesh didn't crawl as it used to when Jin Woo rose from his shadow.

He had been getting better at sensing him though he was not good enough to pinpoint his location at all times precisely.

There was still something quite disturbing about knowing that an enemy was hiding in your own shadow and you could do nothing to prevent him from slitting your throat.

"Isn't he supposed to be dead ?"

Jin Woo followed his gaze.

"Dr Garaki ? Officially he is, yes. We put on a show last time to ensure nobody would come after him" Jin Woo shrugged. "He's more useful to us dead than alive"

The double meaning wasn't lost on Shoto.

"He's creating Nomus for us, isn't he ? Japan wants its own Nomus army"

Scientists - no matter if they were war criminals - always got a free pass when it came to advancing a country's hard power.

Jin Woo nodded.

They both watched Dr Garaki happily squeeze the shoulder of one of his subordinates, both getting worked up over a tube full of yellowish liquid.

"Most of his work has been based on All for One's genome and his ability to transfer Quirks. Things are more difficult because we don't have him to do the gruesome work for us, though Garaki is certain that given enough time he can replicate the experiment"

Shoto blinked. Floating behind Garaki's face were the half-thousand screaming people feasted upon by a swarm of Nomus.

Jin Woo walked away, gesturing for Shoto to follow him.

"I heard your trial period is done. It's quite different from what you've been doing until now, but I know you'll adjust easily "

He paused.

Shoto was still standing in front of the laboratory.

"You coming ?"

Shoto spun swiftly and followed him.

There was no slouch, no hands in pocket, just the cold, efficient grace of a soldier.

"More murder ?", he asked, picking up the conversation.

Jin Woo cracked a smile.

"Murder of more important people, yes. A bit of hit-and-run tactics. A couple of wars on stalemate we want to be turned in our favor"

They arrived in a locker room where four people were already waiting for them in full gear.

Special Forces squads were small but extremely powerful.

One squad was reputed to be strong enough to take on a small country and win. Japan only had two squads of that sort, quite a feat considering their small and dwindling population.

One of them had worked with Shoto a couple of times, thus he greeted him quietly, nodding, and most hadn't, thus they said nothing.

Here nobody cared about who he was and what he's done. Only his abilities mattered.

Shoto understood why his father had joined them long ago. There was a certain appeal to anonymity.

"This assignment will be a couple of days long", explained Jin Woo. "We need to assassinate a Turkish politician who's been very vocal about the necessity for their country to enter the Asian league. We'll play it as usual, and make it look ambiguous enough that people will wonder if the US or somebody else in the West isn't behind it. It should anger Turkey enough that they'll finaly enter the league, if only out of spit"

Which would be extremely beneficial for Japan went without saying.

It had been a few decades since the 'Asian Europe' plan had been set in motion, but a lot of wars and targeted hits from foreign countries that didn't want to see such alliance rise had set them back numerous times.

A decade ago China had joined them and, merely two years earlier, Russia did too.

Tensions with the West were at their highest but tensions with the West always were at their highest because they wanted – and demanded – pure submission from everybody else.

Times had changed, though. Quirks had leveled up the field.

Once in a while, to remind everybody not to mess with them, countries showed what they were capable of in undercover operations stamped with their names in bold red letters.

Japan hadn't missed their shot.

Exhibit one : Wonder Boy.

Shoto had been asked to use a couple of his signature skills during various assassinations and sabotages during the last couple of months ; his unsettling skillset had put off everyone, even the foreign politicians who'd been adamant they'd get him to work for them.

"When do we leave ?", Shoto asked.

Jin Woo smiled.

"Immediately"

*

He was aware that they were watching him.

Jin Woo had come clean the first day.

"The higher-ups want me to keep an eye on you", he had said. "I'm not gonna play pretend, you and I are going to see each other a lot from today onward"

Shoto didn't bother to pretend it annoyed him.

It had taken a while for Jin Woo to let his guard down around him.

They'd spent assignments huddled in cramped places for hours on end, waiting for a signal to start the hostilities. Most of the time Jin Woo had pretended to fall asleep, draped in his shadows, the inky swirl on his skin a quiet warning. Shoto didn't even close his eyes.

At first, they hadn't spoken much.

Neither were talkative.

Yet Jin Woo, despite his quietness, was as far from what Shoto had pictured him as one could be.

He was nice. Genuinely, profoundly a nice guy.

Shoto had seen him backtrack when he'd heard one operative had been compromised to save them even when it could've jeopardized the objective. He took care of everyone he worked with, field agents and mere administrative operatives alike.

Shoto had thought Jin Woo's smiles calculated, the little anecdotes about his life sprinkled here and there the results of deep scheming – but Jin Woo was like that with everybody.

He was a pretty affectionate guy for somebody who dealt a lot in murder.

When he laughed he had the habit of touching people's shoulders, and when he wanted your attention his fingers grazed your arm.

The first time he'd done so Shoto had jumped out of his skin, flesh crawling, and the next second he was standing at the other end of the corridor, eyes blazing, Jin Woo encased in shadows and hands raised in a sign of appeasement.

His reaction had been instinctive. In hindsight, he knew he couldn't have done better even if he'd been acting.

Something akin to an affectionate relationship began to form between the two.

It was a far cry from what he'd had with Keigo, and it also couldn't be labeled as friendship – more like an understanding of each other's abilities and the respect that ensued.

Shoto was too cautious about letting everybody get close to him and Jin Woo was wise enough not to force the issue. Anyway, they were here to do a job.

Shoto spent a lot of his time observing Jin Woo.

He'd noticed that Jin Woo's shadows were less wary of him, certainly unconsciously, and took half second longer to spring to action.

Half a second was good, very good, better than he'd expected so soon.

Jin Woo looked up from the report he was filing at his desk.

He had already showered, wet black hair crowning his face, the tip slightly curling.

"Did you need something ?"

Shoto was still in full gear, hovering at the threshold of the room.

He raised his hand and showed the file he was holding.

"You haven't signed my transfer documents yet. I am to give them back to HR before noon"

Jin Woo invited him in, finishing quickly what he was doing.

His trusting manners pleased Shoto greatly.

Shoto handed him the documents ; as Jin Woo leaned forward to grab them, his eyes flickered briefly to Shoto's ink-stained fingertips.

As soon as Jin Woo's thumb grazed the paper, Shoto let go of everything, smoothly leaned forward, and grabbed Jin Woo's naked wrist, pulling him forward.

"Wh-"

Ink spread on his skin from where Shoto was holding him : his shadows flickered to life then receded as the ink spread up his arms, disappearing under his clothes, an uncoiling snake bolting to life.

Jin Woo's eyes widened : for the first time in his life his connection with the shadows was severed, and he wasn't they anymore but just him.

Shoto brought him closer, his grip strong enough to bruise.

"You were the trickiest variable" He said, eyes fully black."Their strongest player. I had to bid my time before I got you"

Jin Woo's eyes are bulging as he crumples to the floor, one hand grabbing the place over his heart.

Shoto looked down at him, black veins pulsing on his neck.

Fire flickered on his skin. He didn't wait until Jin Woo was unconscious to finish him.

Shoto cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, mocking eyes flickering briefly to the camera.

That's when he heard the hum.

A slow, steady hum, the hum of somebody who's doing his job and who knows he's doing it well.

Shoto's eyes snapped towards the stairs.

Downstairs, Dr Garaki finished tidying the place.

One of his assistants should've done it but sometimes he liked to do the gruesome work himself : it helped him remember his gruesome beginnings.

And people's opinion of him improved greatly if he played the slightly insane grandpa persona rather than the mad scientist who experimented on children.

He turned, holding a test tube, jumping in fright.

It slipped from his hands and broke on the floor with the might of a bomb, glass shards rolling everywhere.

Shoto was standing there, a faint smell of smoke to him.

Garaki brought a hand to his chest as if to calm his beating heart.

"You scared me", he chuckled nervously. "Don't you know that creeping up on scientists in their labs is a bad thing ?"

Shoto looked around at the tanks full of embryos or developing organisms that looked like blotches of cells.

In a transparent cube farthest from the other were small, child-like Nomus, failed experimentation, Quirkless bodies filled with nothing but the urge to eat. They paced in their cell all day long, made unintelligible noises, and fought for the scraps of food they were given.

At night they didn't sleep, merely closed their eyes.

Garaki calmed down.

The boy couldn't have possibly recognized him : they'd barely met, and when they did he'd been unconscious.

"Is that your only lab ?"

Garaki acted casually as he bent down to pick up the shards.

At least the liquid wasn't corrosive.

He briefly looked up as he answered.

"Yes, why-"

His eyes locked on the black veins throbbing in Shoto's neck, pulsing individually like a choir of hearts.

All of the shards he'd gathered fell softly, the last nail in the coffin.

"You have the-"

Shoto lifted him easily, one hand on his mouth, fingers pressing against the soft, full cheeks.

Garaki's feet left the ground.

Shoto's eyes were fully black.

"Experimenting on people is funny, isn't it ?"

The doctor looked like he was about to burst, so red he looked like a rip fruit, struggling to breathe, the top of Shoto's large palm holding tight on his nostrils too.

"Here's a taste of your own medicine"

Shoto pushed him into the infants' room.

They perked up, rose from crouched or fetal positions, looked with wonder at the new food, circled it live vultures.

Garaki, barely catching his breath, jumped to his feet and frantically hit the glass door, feverish, mustache shaking as if it had a life of its own, screaming wildly as the children closed on him.

There was nothing in Shoto's eyes as he watched the doctor being eaten alive.
 
Chapter 261
For a week, it had been raining non stop in Tokyo.

Some parts of the city were flooded.

The sewers could no longer contain the excess rain and entire streets were filled with a mixture of waste, excrement, and dirty water. Whole neighborhoods had been preemptively evacuated. Some schools had been closed, and a couple of gymnasiums had been requisitioned to house the inhabitants in makeshift shelters.

Yaoba Mitarashi, a man in his forties wearing a black suit, watched the gray city roll behind the window of his car. Beyond the weather it was the heaviness in the streets, the darkness on people's faces that worried him.

Japan had been hit hard during the last year - Japanese people's trust in their officials was crumbling, crime was rising, and many teenagers who should've enrolled in Heroic schools didn't bother sending the paper.

He didn't need to get out of his luxury car to smell the stench of corruption and chaos spreading through the city.

On his lap rested heavily the last unresolved case he'd been assigned.

He was the fifth person in charge of the investigation and, like his predecessors before him, he'd failed.

He'd watched the surveillance footage of that infamous night and had, like so many others, been frozen to the bone as the boy released Sung Jin Woo's body, his red eyes looking straight into the camera as he did so, daring them to stop him.

What they most feared had happened.

The boy who'd killed All for One had snapped.

If – when, insisted the shrinks – he came back, nobody would be able to stop him.

In the eyes of the general public, the boy was acquitted for his "contribution to the capture of a dangerous criminal". There had been no murder, no special forces recruitment, no mental breakdown.

The one whose mere existence had almost sent Japan into civil war had fallen from the face of the earth.

People talked about him like they did an urban legend, voices hushed and eyes gleaming, mystified as though he'd never been human.

Yaoba felt that everyone was moving on too fast : solving the critical unemployment and finding a way to get tourists - as well as their own wealthy citizens who'd fled - back was more important than someone who couldn't be found if he didn't want to be found.

They'd forgotten the very tangible threat he posed to their country.

And worse: they still hadn't understood why he'd killed Sung Jin Woo.

There was no point in serving a man for four long months if you intended to kill him.

The car rolled on an uneven patch and Mitarashi hit his head against the window.

He bit his tongue and cursed, rubbing his head as he did so.

His wife was right, maybe it was time he found another job.

The car slowed down and he met the driver's eyes in the rear-view mirror.

"Another deviation, Mitarashi san", apologized the man.

The road ahead was blocked by security bands and police officers beckoning them to turn right. They had water up their ankles and were wearing large black parkas.

The car smoothly turned right, water whooshing behind the wheels.

It was late – if it hadn't been for the sudden emergency meeting from HQ...

Despite hiding under a blurry curtain, Tokyo was beautiful, thousands of lights glittering in the middle of the night.

They passed the police station and Yaoba noticed that their parking lot was flooded : none of their armored vehicles or untaken police cars would be available.

It truly was the perfect night for a crime, he thought dryly.

Yaoba relaxed against his seat, the heated seats unknotting his shoulders and back. He blinked, suddenly tired. The lights mixed with the rain, turning into indistinct and colorful shapes.

Suddenly someone knocked on the window.

Yaoba jolted awake.

His driver smiled at him from there, parka on his back and umbrella in hand, ready to open the door.

Yaoba brushed his hair, hoping it wouldn't be too messy, smoothed his clothes, put a trench, and hid his suitcase under his arm to protect it. It was fox leather damn it.

The icy cold bit his skin before he put a foot out.

"Thank you" he grumbled, grabbing the umbrella.

A hail of rain pushed diagonally by the wind splashed on his face.

"I'll wait for you in the car, sir"

"Don't. It may take a while", He hoped it wouldn't "Get home and I'll just call a t-"

Mitarashi's yellow eyes snapped to the left.

Slit like a serpent's, his pupils narrowed further.

He scrutinized, unblinking, the lamppost behind the driver.

"Mitarashi san?", asked the driver, confused, following his gaze

A handful of seconds passed during which the intensity of the investigator's gaze did not waver until, seeing nothing happen, his shoulders relaxed.

He sighed, put a hand on his face.

"I must be tired", Yaoba murmured before taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sleeve.

It would not be the first time that fatigue played tricks on him, Hawks' eyes or not.

"Oh, all right" the driver mumbled, still slightly surprised.

"As I was saying you can just go home, take your night. I'll grab a taxi"

If he finished before the end of the night.

They parted ways, Mitarashi sinking in his coat's collar to warm his icy nose.

As he zigzagged through the cars - and why were there so many people at this hour ? - he made sure not to walk in any puddle.

If he ruined another costume because of this damned weather...

He exhaled happily as the double doors slid open and a wave of warm air hit his face.

The sliding doors closed gently behind him, two red dots strained on him vanishing under the curtain of rain.

He entrusted his umbrella to one of the security men.

"Mitarashi" called him his colleague Hayate. "To what do we the pleasure of this emergency meeting ?"

Yaoba frowned.

"What do you mean by-"

The doors slid open and Hayate stepped aside.

"Hayate, Mitarashi, you're both here" exclaimed a man as he entered the lobby. "I'm glad I wasn't the only one late"

Both men stood ramrod straight.

The second security man ran to grab his umbrella.

"Thank you", said Nishimura. His two subordinates bowed deeply ; he shook his hand and clicked his tongue. "No time for that; let's go to the meeting room"

They took the elevator straight to the second floor.

Hayate and Nishimura were too nervous to chat with their boss there: even though he was younger than them both, freshly forty, Ryota Nishimura had emerged as the only viable choice after the abrupt resignation of President Pantu.

Yaoba decided to address what had been bothering him for a while : he didn't know when he'd get the opportunity to see his boss again, considering how busy the man was.

"Sir about the case you put me on..."

Nishimura was tapping on his phone furiously, mouth pursed.

"Damn network" he muttered, putting the device in his pocket.

He looked up at Yaoba.

"Yes, detective Mitarashi ? Did you find anything new ?"

Yaoba was embarrassed to admit so clearly his failure.

"No, not really, but something disturbs me..." Nishimura looked away, his interest fading. Yaoba felt obliged to add hastily : "I thought it was good to ask Yuei's principal for his opinion on the psychological portrait made of Shoto Todoroki, as I found it rather incomplete, and what he told me was rather... disturbing"

Nishimura hummed noncommitaly.

"Thus", Yaoba resumed trying to catch the President's eye, "According to him, Shoto Todoroki does nothing by chance. If he attacked Sung, he had a specific reason for doing so ; if we could understand what drove him to act, we might know what he will do next"

"He could have killed himself, too, couldn't he ?"

This was the theory that most of his predecessors who'd worked on the case had believed.

"This seems unlikely, President. Most of our experts agree that he sees suicide as cowardice"

The doors of the elevator opened.

"You'll tell me all about it on Monday", Nishimura cut him as he strolled out.

"Of course" Mitarashi murmured.

His colleague shot him a sorry look and scampered after their boss. Mitarashi's shoulders sagged. He sighed discreetly.

"What the hell is happening ?", loudly asked the President.

The headquarters looked like a buzzing hive. More than fifty people were running around, files piled up in their arms. It was too late for so many people to still be there.

It looked as though their whole department had been called back urgently.

"Sir !", a young woman nearly hit Nishimura head-on. "It seems that we have a black code – the Prime Minister was allegedly attacked at his home by individuals who used their Quirks. I've just arrived and I have yet to have anyone on site able to give me more details but-"

"President !", said somebody else. "We've got a problem with our internal circuit. We had to call back the technical service in urgency: many of our classified files have been lost"

"President Nishimura, we were only waiting for you to start the emergency meeting. Squad one and two are geared up. What are your instructions ?"

That caught his attention.

"My instructions ?" he frowned. "The emergency meeting was called by Hayate"

Said man turned white.

"I did no such thing. The alert came from Mitarashi"

"How can it be ? Barely half an hour ago I received a notification from President Nishimura summoning an emergency meeting"

They exchanged confused glances.

"Let's rewind a bit," said Nishimura. "If I didn't call for an emergency meeting and neither of you did, then who ?"

And it was at this precise instant that the first screams echoed through the building.

*

His left hand was shaking atrociously, his fingers folding and unfolding frantically.

"Pace yourself"

Shoto closed his eyes briefly, breathing deeply in and out.

He was crouching on a lamppost facing the Heroic Commission's HQ, moonlight shining diagonally across his hair, his face in the dark.

He was clad in black, sheathed sword on his back, pouches filled to the brim with knives, ink staining his fingertips.

His eyes snapped open.

They were blood red, burning coals glowing ominously.

It was pouring.

You couldn't see further than a meter.

Shoto's hair stuck to his skin, raindrops running down his face and settling on his eyelashes. He blinked them away.

All his attention was focused on the last cars hastily parked and the employees rushing back to their offices.

…347, 348, 349.

Everyone had finally arrived.

The tremors in his left hand resumed with renewed vigor.

He would've used a cigarette right about now.

"Pace yourself," repeated his father.

Shoto cocked his head towards him, drawing strength from his voice, regretting the times when he drew warmth from him too for this one didn't feel like the sun and now Shoto would forever be cold.

He raised his right hand, palm turned to the sky as if silently praying.

The rain intensified, the wind grew stronger. For a moment, nothing else happened.

And suddenly, lightning tore through the sky.

A massive white streak against a black background burst with the force of a bomb, momentarily illuminating the surroundings for several hundred meters so that one might think it was daylight.

In the blink of an eye, the business district went from relatively lit to fully illuminated, then plunged into complete darkness.

The electrical installations had blown up in a roar of crackling electricity.

Shoto bent forward, lightning focusing beneath his feet, yellow arcs crackling around him. His genjutsu broke under the power of the jutsu, revealing his dark silhouette haloed by lightning.

He propelled himself forward and disappeared in a flash of light ; in his wake the streetlight exploded in a glass and dust shower. The wind whistled sharply.

Inside the Commission's HQ, one of the security guards groaned as the lights went out.

"Again ? It's the third time this week," he grumbled, fumbling in the dark to find his keys.

Procedure would have them evacuate everybody, but it had happened so often this week they didn't bother to.

"Got the keys," replied his colleague, flashlight in hand. "I'm going to check the-"

There was a yellow flash, the sound of metal clicking.

Something heavy fell on the ground.

The security guard blinked.

From the outline, it looked like a fallen bag of potatoes. Right next to it was a tall man, way taller than his colleague.

The security guy licked his dry lips with a dry tongue, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

If the moonlight hadn't been lighting up his figure, he wouldn't have noticed him, for the man was as still as a statue, blood dripping from the tip of a sword and on what he now knew to be the body of his colleague.

He held his breath as he quietly retreated, hand fumbling under the entrance's desk until it bumped on a small button.

It clicked loudly as he pressed it.

For a fraction of a second, the guard's heart stopped.

The intruder didn't move - the guard stifled a sigh of relief. The police and the Heroes would be here soon ; it was only a matter of time-

"Took you long enough."

Bloody eyes snapped to his.

They were two bright dots in a face shrouded in darkness, pits of malevolence that glowed as bright as a flashlight.

The guard moved back as the intruder stalked forward, looming like a snake playing with its food.

The guard's hands lit up yellow as he said:

"I've got a wife and ki-"

His head rolled on the ground, cleanly chopped, one lone tear falling from his eye, blinked away by a last automatic contraction of his eyelids, before his eyes were glazed.

Shoto cocked his head to the side.

It was a clean job, no blood had sprayed on the wall.

His father appeared next to him, quiet, an ethereal being through which shone the moonlight.

"A few at ground level," he said, looking at the ceiling. "Most are upstairs."

Shoto opened wide the double doors leading to the maze of corridors.

Fire flickered on his cheekbones, red reflected in his eyes, turning a scorching blue.

He raised his hand, palm open towards the vast emptiness.




"LEVEL FOUR ALERT ! LEVEL FOUR ALERT !"

The screams were the first thing they heard ; the alarm rang and they winced.

Then came the smell of burnt flesh.

The red neon lights bathed the entire three floors in a semi-nightmarish glow : panicked, many tried to break the bulletproof windows or reach the emergency stairs.

Iron lids fell on every door and window, trapping them all inside, pigs to be slaughtered.

"It's the Knox configuration," whimpered one of the employees, pulling at his face as if to tear off his skin, his nails digging half-moons into his cheekbones. "We're trapped!"

President Nishimura swirled, frowning, screaming at everyone to calm the hell down.

Mitarashi was being pushed around and stuck to the wall, heart thundering. Chances were that he'd be trampled to death before he could even smell the smoke.

The giant screen perched on the wall in the middle of the corridor flickered to life.

The image went from black to a library full of books.

The camera moved, the screen trembling then stopped on a desk.

Mitarashi was slack-jawed.

Most people stopped running, a few that hadn't noticed what was going on bumping into others.

A woman brought her hands to her mouth to stifle a shrill scream.

On the desk lay a human eyeball and a finger – a thumb, to be precise – bloody, freshly torn from a body.

Simultaneously was the most awful, blood-curdling scream Mitarashi had ever heard. He flinched and held onto the wall for dear life, knees nearly buckling under him for he'd just had the scare of his life.

Kneeling on the ground, one hand on his face, vomiting blood, was President Nishimura.

People screamed and steered clear of him as if he had cholera, scrambling and pushing each other to get away faster.

Mitarashi fell to his knees and crawled to reach his superior, getting a knee to the chin as he did so, his teeth snapping on his tongue, blood filling his mouth.

As if he'd heard them,a hand on the screen nonchalantly grabbed the eye and played with it.

Then came an eerie voice, low and calm:

"Can you guess whose they are?"

Nishimura looked at Mitarashi right as the man was pressing the eye between his fingers, a wet 'squish' resounding through all the building's speakers.

Nishimura's right eye was bulging as though it would pop out any second, bursting blood vessels running around the pupil, whereas the second eye socket was a gaping hole from which blood flowed.

He held his face with four fingers, his thumb cut at the base, threads of flesh sticking to his cheek.

A gloved hand passed in front of the camera, turning it towards someone they all knew.

Someone fell on their ass.

"No, no, no no no."

Someone started screaming and someone else joined, and suddenly everyone was, a choir of terrified children in the skin of adults.

One was standing limply next to Mitarashi and Nishimura, morbidly hypnotized by the blood dripping down his face.

Hayate took off his jacket to press it to the President's face but Nishimura hissed in pain and moved his head back, rejecting his help.

A woman was sobbing wildly in a corner.

Nishimura wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

Someone was screaming bloody murder at his phone, frantically typing and devouring his nails as he waited for somebody to pick up at the other end, but it fell short every time.

Nobody was in charge, there were no directives : the corridors were full of milling people, headless chickens curling on the ground and calling their moms.

On the TV Shoto calmly took off his mask, folded it neatly, and put it down next to the severed thumb.

The air behind him looked like it was shimmering.

"As I'm a good person," his lips quirked up but there was no joy in his eyes, making the resulting expression worrying, "I'll offer you one chance of escaping."

They all looked up, breathless. Hope swelled their hearts and tightened their throats.

"There's an open window on the third level that you can use to get out. As there are only..." He cocked his head to the side as though listening to somebody else whispering in his ear, "… 331 of you left, I trust you'll be civilized to walk in an orderly fashion and get out safely, won't you?"

He snorted mockingly.

The screen turned black.

The first screams came from the offices furthest from the stairs.

A woman with a broken heel burst into the long corridor, stumbling like a newborn fawn, arms flailing wildly, wet mascara dripping on her cheeks.

From the room she'd come from there were two consecutive crashes.

A bloody hand jolted out of it, gripping the corridor's carpet and holding on for dear life, muscles straining under the skin.

There was a high-pitched scream, another collision, and the hand went limp.

A figure calmly walked out of this office, a heel smashing the fingers intertwined with the carpet's gray threads.

Shoto stopped in the middle of the corridor, blood dripping from his blade, looking them in the eye one by one.

"Run."

Everyone scrambled for dear life.

People pushed each other, walked on each other, tried to get ahead, forgetting everything about year-long friends and colleagues.

Mitarashi, eyes never leaving Shoto's figure, stumbled to his feet and dragged the President with him.

"We need to get out."

Hayate was trying to tear a way for them in the overflowing staircase.

There were two staircases, and this one was the closest to the corridors.

"The other one," Hayate said, grabbing Mitarashi's shoulder. "Come, we need to get to the other one."

The Commission's President was leaking blood like a faulty gas tank.

Shoto watched them leave and got to the first staircase.

His blade cut through people like butter.

They fell like freshly cut grass, some missing half of the face, others half of the torso, blood spraying in wide half-circles on the walls.

The unluckiest lost an arm or a leg and stayed conscious long enough, screeching hysterically as they saw the merciless second blow come.

Shoto looked up towards the top of the stairs.

It was cramped up until the next floor.

Blue fire flickered on his skin and suddenly he was ablaze, lit up like a human torch.

Th fire's dancing glow reflected in his eyes.

A chorus of agonizing screams and cooking flesh made everybody run faster.

Fear fueled Mitarashi and Hayate as they dragged the President faster refusing to look back.

The bluish light lit up enough of the place that they could see where they were going and what they shouldn't walk on.

The ground was littered with bodies, some who were faking death and others who'd been trampled to death, one still alive and wheezing, eyes glassy, mouth half open.

This staircase wasn't as crowded as the other one: people were trickling to the top.

Mitarashi shot a nervous glance over his shoulder.

The murderer was stalking them, taking his sweet time to do so, his sword brushing tenderly fallen bodies' cheeks, sometimes plunging deep into eye or mouth, people contorting from pain and terror then crashed, defeated, boneless bags of meat.

People in the staircase pushed harder those at the front. Suddenly there was a breakthrough, and everybody moved forward as if they were one, nearly falling on each other.

Shoto stilled, surveying their agonizing faces, smelling their terror, delighting in their helplessness.

Mitarashi pushed harder, eyes round and big, two marbles that looked like they would pop from his face like a bottle's cork and roll comically to the murderer's shoes.

Shoto looked to the left.

He walked to a small, half-closed room, and pushed it open with the tip of his shoe.

A young man was hidden in a corner, holding a broom close to his chest, wearing a gray uniform that strongly smelt of detergent.

"I swear I did nothing!" he shouted quickly and desperately. "I'm just the guy who cleans, see ? Please don't come, please… No, please, I-I've only been here for a week. I lied about my age, I'm not even twenty, I've done nothing seen nobody been no one please you can't kill me when I haven't even lived and I-," he choked on his words whereas Shoto's sword rose, "My father needs me. He's sick and we needed the money and without me he'll certainly…"

Shoto paused briefly – almost imperceptible, as if he'd wanted to raise his blade higher but abruptly stopped, hesitating on the next step.

The young man noticed and jumped on the opportunity, hope painfully swelling his throat.

"Please," begged the boy. "He's got no one else. If- if I'm not here for him he'll- he'll certainly-"

His head fell into a half-full wash bucket, his lips still mouthing the words as the head rode the waves the fall had made, up and down, up and down.

"That's on you," Shoto said, turning around and cracking his neck. "Should've been faster."

Flames danced in the hollow of his palm, licking his fingers almost affectionately.

He knew he was growing partial to fire-based attacks yet he couldn't help it ; it was the only thing that made him feel the tiniest bit of warmth.

He mixed chakra with it and it burst from his palm, a continuous tidal wave which spread everywhere and devoured everything.

It was hell on earth.

Nothing was left.

Confidential documents, desks, bodies, everything was gobbled.

The smell of singed hair and burnt flesh – like overcooked pork – filled his nose.

People he'd forgotten to finish were clinging to the walls for dear life, heads turned towards the ceiling, trying to crawl on the vertical surface with the indomitable will of the condemned to death, hands and arms and legs missing, fire eating at bodies they desperately tried to detach themselves from.

The dead and the soon-to-be, painfully wriggling on the floor, were reflected in Shoto's eyes.

He stayed until there was no one else, their screams filling his head until he had no more space for thinking.

Slowly, Shoto sheathed his sword. His eyes turned towards the stairs leading to the upper floors.

He could hear the hurried footsteps, the fearful whispers, the hushed conversations.

The heat was rising quickly : the metal railing was a sick red, as if iron battered in a forge, promising burns and worse for anyone who'd touch it.

Upstairs, Nishimura and Hayate were running among a flock of other people.

They heard screams, felt the fire, tasted the bloody smoke.

They tried to find an exit.

Carrying the President around was hard : Nishimura was sweating under the added weight, yet he pushed on. Hayate was among those who kicked the office doors open, eyes running across the closed windows, cursing and running to the next one.

It was getting too hot.

Smoke was gathering at head level and they had to duck to avoid breathing it. He was feeling dizzy.

The ground was so hot their shoes were nearly burning, yet yanking them off would've been worse.

Every couple of seconds somebody let out a gut-wrenching scream, and each time it was that much closer than the previous one.

He was getting closer.

When they tried looking over their shoulders, all they could spot was a sliced body falling or a door closing but not him, never him.

The air was so saturated with blood they could taste it.

"There ! The exit's there !"

An emergency staircase led from this window to the garden. Those at the front ran down like madmen, some even jumping full sets of stairs, falling, and getting back up to do it more quickly.

Mitarashi gave Hayate the President and got out through the window.

The rain was as much a relief as a pain for their scorching skin.

They pushed each other as they ran down, trying to get out faster.

A couple fell on their knees when they reached the relief of the ground.

Nishimura let the President go, catching his breath as he did so.

He looked around. There were barely twenty people here. A few were still getting down, but it wasn't much.

That's when they spotted him, standing proudly a few meters from them, face bare for the whole world to see.

Despite having the strong features of a man, something about him was painfully young, which made the blood splashed across his clothes all the more uncanny.

Nobody dared to run.

"You said we'd be free !," dared to scream somebody, though his voice was rickety. "You said if we'd got out we- we-"

Shoto unsheathed his sword.

"I'm a liar," he said dryly. "What a surprise."

The burning building's lights flashed on the cold blade.

Next second everybody was on the ground, Achilles tendon sliced cleanly, unable to crawl, wailing like animals.

Shoto grabbed Nishimura's hair and yanked his head up, forcing him to watch his agonizing subordinates. The fire's lights shone on Nishimura's face, red and yellow dancing on his dirtied cheeks.

"Look at them," he said. "Look at what you've done. Those are the consequences of your actions."

"Whatever I've done," Nishimura croaked. "It wasn't on purpose. I didn't-"

Shoto bashed his head on the floor until the grass turned red.

"Say it was a mistake," whispered Shoto threateningly, scowling. "Say you regret it."

"I do not know-"

Nishimura's head hit the ground so hard he saw stars, yet it wasn't strong enough to slide towards unconsciousness.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Not enough."

Shoto grabbed the closest person – a woman – and forced her to look up. Tears and snot were mingling on her face.

"Beg him to save your life."

"Please!" she screamed, her shin wobbly. "Please save me, President ! I don't want to die, please!"

Nishimura's heart sank and tightened simultaneously.

"What do I need to do ?" he begged.

"Say you're sorry."

His left eyebrow twitched – he didn't understand what was going on – but he screamed it with everything he had left.

"I'm sorry," he said, cradling his wounded hand close to his chest as though it were a baby. "I'm-"

Shoto chopped her head off.

"Not quick enough."

Guttural moans escaped a man further behind. Someone else made a strangled scream, a sound between an animal giving birth and a calf being slaughtered.

The woman's body fell on its back.

Her head dangled from Shoto's hand as though it were a trash bag, blown by the wind, swaying to the side until Nishimura could only see one half of her face, a sole, bulging eye mirroring his, and a mouth which, from this angle, looked like it was grinning.

He threw up.

Shoto put the woman's head on her stomach, face facing Nishimura's.

He went to the next person, gripped their hair, and yanked them up until they kneeled.

"Beg."

"I'm sorry!" the man screamed, confused and panicked, as Nishimura, bits of vomit flying from his lips, said, "I didn't mean to do it!"

"I've got my nephew to take care of," said the other one, tears free-falling. "My mom's old and she can't remember much, she lives alone, I bring her groceries on Sundays and Fridays I eat at the bar with old friends from high school, I'm not- I've always wanted to marry but I never found anyone, please please don't kill me, I-"

Off went the head.

"Did you forget what you were supposed to say?" Shoto asked Nishimura.

Suddenly he realized that whatever the reason was for this murder spree, no amount of begging would stop this madman from finishing what he'd started.

Yet each time Shoto grabbed another of his subordinates – people he only knew by sight, went to their kid's birthday party, or shared a drink when there was a late night at work here and then – Nishimura screamed harder, begging with everything he had, his throat hurting but his voice never falling short.

"Not sincere enough."

"Not loud enough."

And off went the heads, rolling one after the other, until Nishimura was standing alone in a field of bodies, his colleagues' faces accusing, blood dripping from their still warm necks and down the stomachs they lay on.

Shoto brushed away hair strands that had fallen on his forehead.

"Look at what you've done," he said. "Look !"

He forced Nishimura to watch, forcefully opened his remaining eye by pinching the lid.

"You made me do it."

"I'm sorry," cried Nishimura. "I'm sorry."

"Being sorry won't bring him back," Shoto spat out, wild-eyed, veins throbbing on his forehead and the side of his face. He bashed Nishimura's head into the ground once, twice. "Being sorry won't change the fact that your inaction killed him."

"I'm sorry," Nishimura slurred, vision blurry, though he still didn't know what he was apologizing for. "I'm sorry, I should've done better, I'm sorry."

Shoto bashed his head into the ground until Nishimura's forehead cracked.

"You thought you could use me, didn't you ?" Shoto snarled, teeth bared, and he looked more animal than man. "You thought you'd get me to do the dirty work for you and get away with it ?"

Blood spurted from between Nishimura's brows.

"I bet you laughed when you heard I killed All for One."

Smash.

"I bet you all patted each other's back and said well done, the brat did the shitty job better than he would've if we'd asked."

Smash.

"You don't get to rejoice whereas I live in a fucking nightmare."

Smash.

"It won't end that way. I refuse. The only way I'll be satisfied is when I exterminate you."

When Shoto's anger-filled vision focused, he noticed he'd bashed Nishimura's nose in. His face was flat.

Shoto looked at it for a while.

Then he plopped down on his ass, took out a kunai, and cleanly chopped Nishimura's head.

He lit up a cigarette, cross-legged on the ground, the head facing the sky on his thighs, while absentmindedly stroking the long white hair. It was quite smooth.

His ash fell on the tongue lolling from the open mouth, rolling down backward and disappearing down Nishimura's throat.

Shoto smoked slowly, thoughtfully, vacant gaze roaming over the sea of chopped heads. Rings of smoke rose from his lips.

He checked his watch.

Any second now.

He looked to his left and there was his father, sitting on the ground too, arms on his knees, yet facing the opposite way, his back to the massacre, eyes riveted on the small garden ahead where people used to take their lunch during summer.

Shoto was bathing in light, the burning building's dancing lights flickering on his face, Enji cloaked by the night.

"Are you satisfied ?" Shoto asked.

"Are you ?"

The cigarette's tip was a glowing coal, yet Shoto's eyes were two shades brighter, shining ruby in a too-pale face.

"I think I'm insane."

Enji snorted, his face distorting in a mean and mocking expression that was too much Shoto's to be Enji's.

"You definitely are if you can see me."

Steps on the grass. A stop. A moment passed. Hesitation, running.

Neither Shoto nor Enji bothered to turn their heads.

They could sense him – they'd sensed him long before he'd even reached this street.

"What have you done?"

Viscera, pieces of arms torn off, bodies without heads- "Shoto, what have you done?" There was blood on the floor, blood dripping from the building's walls as though it were alive-

"What have I done?"

Shoto was sitting cross-legged on the grass, his cold, lifeless eyes piercing through him. He was bathed in blood from head to toe, and Aizawa knew better than to ask if it was his own.

"The right question to ask would be: 'what did they do to me?' "

Aizawa knew. Of course, he knew. Everyone in the secret knew. But such a massacre...

"Don't you think you've gone too far? Don't you think-"

Shoto laughed.

Aizawa shuddered, the hairs on his neck bristling. He had known Shoto since childhood, but he had never once heard him laugh.

"Why are you surprised? You told me yourself that I am not a hero."

Aizawa looked down, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

"I think it hurt my ego a little bit at the time. But you were right, weren't you?"

Shoto raised his hands in a theatrical gesture, pointing to the lifeless bodies spread like dead flowers around him, a ribbon of smoke following his gesture.

"All of this... all of this is me."

Aizawa was afraid of what it meant.

He licked his dry lips, clutching the hem of his windbreaker with shaking fingers.

He shouldn't even be here.

"So that's what you've become? Someone who destroys without caring about the cost? Someone who only does what he wants to do?"

Shoto's face darkened.

There was a storm brewing in his eyes, a kind of madness that was only waiting for the right moment to be unleashed onto the world.

"I've always been selfish, we both know that. It's just that, for a short time, I thought..."

He fell silent, unable to continue.

His eyes became glassy as if he were looking at something far away that he could never hope to reach again.

And then anger distorted his face. The corners of his mouth dropped, his features became as hard as stone.

Burning eyes locked with Aizawa's.

"You know very well what I'll say, Aizawa-sensei."

Shoto stood up.

Aizawa froze, horrified, his eyes never leaving the thing that had just rolled off his thighs and landed in a pool of blood.

It was a human head.

"You- and all those among you who knew."

Shoto leaned over Aizawa's shoulder, his warm breath brushing his ear.

Aizawa watched him out of the corner of his eye. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple as the eyes spun, red spreading from the iris like ink, the three black commas spinning lazily.

"You are next."
 
Chapter 262
A mass murderer, they called him. The modern-day terrorist.

Flash Info //Massacre of the Heroic Commission: The Judgment of Shoto Todoroki//

Zap.

"Rise in crime and decrease in jobs in Jobs: citizens leave the country en masse"

Zap.

"349 people murdered in 14 minutes"

Zap.

"Is a recession poss-"

Zap.

"Multiple repeat offender orchestrated the assassination of-"

Zap.

"National Guard deployed-"

Zap.

"- terrorist attack at the HQ of the Commission. Let's be clear, ladies and gentlemen : this boy is just a symptom of a sick society that has been derailing for a long time"

He stopped on this channel.

"When you have a prodigious individual born with the power of a god," the speaker explained. "It is only natural that, receiving attention only for what he is capable of and not for who he is, he ends up becoming what everyone expected him to be"

"What are you trying to say?" someone else asked, indignant. "That because he was a little bullied here and there, the Commission's massacre was justified?"

"What I'm trying to say is that you can use a knife both to slice and stab. It's the one holding the weapon that makes it what it is. This boy is a knife and instead of putting it in the drawer, he was asked to stab a select number of people. Is it surprising that the weapon turned against us ? Do not misinterpret what I am saying : this boy is as far from a victim as one can be. He is a murderer - a high-profile terrorist, even. What I wonder – and what I would like all our fellow citizens who are at home and watching us to ask themselves – is whether our fear of his potential has contributed to shaping him"

"So you think that our way of 'treating' individuals like Shoto Todoroki as a society can influence their behaviors ?" asked the anchorman

"I do not think it, I know it," he said. "Look at this press conference where he was absolutely demolished by the press for defending himself when-"

"He killed people", interrupted another guest speaker. "Let's not mislead the public, and let's call a spade a spade"

"I would ask you not to interrupt me, thank you", snapped the other one. "As I was saying, look at one of the few times he spoke in public and see how his expression changes as he lets himself – and his father, more specifically, because Endeavor took the brunt of the accusations – be insulted in public. It was a witch hunt. Now I can't help but wonder what kind of treatment he received behind closed doors, or how it goes for children who have, let's say, abilities that are not seen as Heroic, or the right Quirks but different aspirations. If a seventeen-year-old decides that his only outlet is murder then yes, I say it and I say it loudly, our society has a problem and that's what we should worry about"

His opponent clicked his tongue and shook his head.

Somebody knocked on the door.

"Come in", Nezu said, sipping his tea, not looking away from the TV.

Aizawa hovered at the room's entrance, his eyes flickering between the flash news and Nezu on his couch, his small legs dangling happily.

"Already up ?", he asked without looking back, as though he had eyes behind his eyes. "You shouldn't be standing so soon after the surgery"

"I'm fine", said aizawa. "I'm fine", he repeated, and he didn't know if he was trying to convince himself or Nezu

"Come here"

Nezu patted the seat next to him.

Aizawa hesitated but awkwardly did as told.

Sometimes Nezu still talked to him as if he were a kid, and most of the time he still saw Nezu as this looming mountain which shadow he was trapped in.

His eyes went back to the TV.

Shouldn't Shoto have tried to flee ?

He'd let aizawa easily handcuff him, hadn't muttered a word until he was brought to a cell as long as he could keep smoking.

There was nobody in this country who could've stopped him - should've stopped him - and yet he'd been so compliant, distant in a way that made it seem as if nothing and no one could reach him.

It rubbed Aizawa the wrong way.

"Don't blame yourself, Shota", said Nezu quietly. "No human could've predicted what happened"

If someone had asked Aizawa a few months earlier whether he believed the boy was capable of such violence, would he have said yes?

He had often seemed unstable, and he was as stubborn as a donkey – but was he necessarily bad ?

There'd been Kirishima, too.

A fucking murder at Yuei. There hadn't been one in half a century.

He could barely look himself in the mirror, and in his sleep he heard a perfidious imitation of Shoto's voice whispering in his ear three hundred forty-nine.

349 people killed in 14 minutes by a boy who had exasperated him and whose nonsense had sometimes made him smile, 349 people brutally and indiscriminately murdered, whether they'd known or hadn't.

"Why ?", Aizawa asked quietly.

He looked at Nezu as he did when he was a kid and couldn't figure out his mind games even after hours of pondering.

"He may have thought..."

"He may have thought what ?"

"You do remember that the Commission was the first there when Endeavor died, don't you ? He may have thought they could've saved him but didn't, for whatever reason. He may have wanted to avenge him"

"Did they ?", asked Aizawa. "Refuse to intervene, I mean ?"

"...the ground was boiling", said Nezu, non comittal. "Even if they'd wanted to intervene, they had no one who could get down on this beach"

Aizawa frowned.

It wasn't Nezu's habit to give him half answers like that.

"Did Shoto have any reason to think they purposefully did nothing to help his father ?"

Was Enji still even alive at this point ?

"I think Katsuki… Right before he hurt Kirishima" That's a fucking euphemism, thought Aizawa "Shoto talked with Katsuki. He may have implied that..."

Nezu not finishing his sentences grated on Aizawa's nerves more than anything.

He felt he was being tricked, as if it were another mind game he couldn't disentangle the truth from the web of lies.

"He may have implied that what ?", frowned Aizawa.

His left eye suddenly hurt.

Aizawa brought a hand to his bandaged face, trying to keep the pain at bay.

"He told him that Enji was still alive when All for One left"

Aizawa's breath caught in his throat.

"Was he ?"

Nezu smiled, a tad sadly and a lot more deviously.

"That's the question, isn't it ?"

"Why didn't we tell him ?"

"If massacring the entire Heroic Commission is the answer he found for the murder of his father, which he considers 'orchestrated' by just a handful of people, what do you think he would have done to us if we had tried to stop him after revealing the truth to him ?"

Aizawa's anger was a pit of boiling lava at the bottom of his stomach.

"Is this what we have been reduced to?" he asked, incredulous. "Bowing down to avoid irritating the powerful at the risk of being crushed?"

Nezu fixed his irritating little black eyes on him, excessively clever and overly piercing.

"All Might was a godsend, Aizawa. He was powerful and most importantly on the right side of things ; he was the ultimate defender of good, a deterrent weapon all by himself. I have always dreaded the day when another All Might would come and what would happen if it turned out he was not on the right side : that day has arrived, and the answer to my question with it."

Aizawa clenched his fists.

"When you ask me if we should bow down at the risk of being crushed, I will answer yes. Look at yourself, Aizawa; look around us. We live in a society where individuals are born with the ability to reduce a country to ashes at their whim. All Might was someone good, but his mere existence forced everyone to bow before his power, whether he wanted it or not: thanks to him, we lived several decades in peace and prosperity, and I thank him for it even today. But if he had been on the wrong side, can you honestly tell me that you and all the other heroes and citizens of this country would have fought against him, at the risk of dying ?"

Nezu paused, waiting for an answer.

Aizawa bit his tongue, nails digging into his flesh.

Because we would all be dead, that's for sure.

"The truth is that you, me, and the ninety-nine other percent of the population born without powers capable of changing the world are condemned to live under the shadow of the powerful, hoping they are busy enough elsewhere to never look in our direction. Bowing down is nothing new. It is what we have always done and it is what we will do again to survive."

Aizawa stayed quiet for a while.

"Why did Katsuki tell Shoto his father was alive when the Commission arrived ?"

Aizawa's black eyes snapped to Nezu's.

For the first time in his life, the little rat was momentarily speechless.

He could see the cogs turning in his skull, felt how his body language shifted to accommodate the new turn of this conversation.

"Shouldn't you be more grateful?" he asked casually. "Now that you've got your eye back, you're not as useless anymore"

Aizawa laughed, startled, and it was a disbelieving laugh tinged with a bit of hysteria.

Nezu sipped his tea, unbothered by his reaction.

"It's hard to swallow, I know," Nezu reassured him. "But with time we-"

"I resign."

Nezu frowned.

He could see at his pursed mouth and the crease between his eyebrows that he hadn't considered this possibility and Aizawa liked that a lot.

"Are you sure?"

Aizawa couldn't leave : Aizawa was Nezu's.

That's what had been drilled in his skull during his whole childhood.

"Yes."

Nezu stared at him for a long time before answering:

"Very well."

Aizawa glanced around the room, still a bit surprised by the turn of events. Was Nezu truly letting him go ?

A surge of adrenaline pushed him to his feet.

He looked around, dry-mouthed, as though seeing this office for the first time. He had to get out before Nezu changed his mind.

Aizawa turned the handle, stopped halfway through the gesture before stepping back three steps to the nearest table.

He took off his capture scarf and placed it on the table, yellow goggles following. He grabbed his Heroic ID, freshly retrieved after the operation.

He squeezed it between his fingers until his knuckles turned white, his eyes fixed on the photo he had taken just after getting his license – barely eighteen, a head full of dreams and the feeling he could revolutionize the world.

Shoto's image flashed in his mind; Aizawa placed his card on the stack and left without looking back.

Nezu quietly watched him leave, gaze resting on the door long after it'd been shut close.

"…frankly utopian theory. Wake up, we are in the real world: if Shoto Todoroki killed so many people – including many innocents and he knew it, don't try to make viewers believe otherwise – it's because he's a deranged young man thirsty for violence and nothing else. His psychological profile proves that-

"Wait a moment" interrupted the anchorman. "It seems Shoto Todoroki has just arrived at the Supreme Courthouse to face his judgment; here are the live images from our reporters."

The screen showed the image of stairs leading to a courthouse.

The place was packed with people, journalists gathered on either side of metal railings and thousands of onlookers gathered in the streets leading up to it or standing on benches to get a better view of the murderer.

Police officers and Heroes were there to ensure security - and contain possible unrest.

A convoy of black cars drove down the street and a police officer removed the security cordon to let them through.

The cortege stopped at the bottom of the courthouse ; armed police officers got out, forming a narrow line in front of the central car. The door opened and, for a short moment, there was no sound except the crackling of camera flashes.

Close to 6 foot 4, the boy was taller than even the most intimidating police officers.

His face was uncovered, bare for the whole world to see.

It was unsettling to see how young he looked under his usual cover-up.

He was human, too. Just another person who'd done something unfathomable for reasons they couldn't grasp.

His manacles clinked as he walked forward, the chain linking his hands to his feet clinking because of his movements.

His eyes were on the courtroom doors. He didn't spare a glance to anyone.

His back was ramrod straight, his chin slightly up, a confidence to his demeanor that shouldn't have been there in a man on the verge of being judged for mass murder.

No one could deny he was Endeavor's rightful son, inspiring fear and demanding awe.

Even though searing anger alighted most people, no one dared speak when the murderer walked by them.

They hated him quietly, feverish gazes following him upstairs, lips pinched for fear of what might escape.

Everybody in the courtroom was grim-faced.

They all knew what fate would befall him before he'd even walked up the stairs.

The trial was quick and to the point.

Pictures of the massacre were shown until the chopped heads on the stomachs.

They took a break after this.

Shoto was brought to a small room during that time, for everybody was too nervous to have him nearby when they were supposed to relax.

A few police officers were in the room with him, more wallflowers than anything.

Someone suddenly opened the door.

This one was dressed differently from the others, a long black coat that made him look like a detective.

He whispered to the officers and a moment later both left.

The newcomer plopped his ass in front of Shoto's, hands clasped on the table between them.

He casually scratched his wrist, his sleeve slightly riding up his forearm, and Shoto easily caught the flame tattoo.

"One word and you're out of here this instant"

For a second Shoto's facade wavered, his gaze softening slightly.

"Tell her thank you but I'm not done yet"

The man nodded, all business-like, and left. Moments later the officers resumed their duties.

Back in the trial room, Shoto was called to testify.

For the first time in the entire session, Shoto's eyes left the invisible yellow dot he pictured on the farthest wall. His eyes swept over the room, reading the emotions he saw easily : fear, disgust, pity.

He lingered longer on this face, a cold anger taking over his entire being.

People shuffled as they heard the judge's order. It wasn't supposed to happen.

Shoto rose and swiftly did as asked.

They asked him how he went about his murder spree and he explained thoroughly.

He told them how he'd gathered information about everyone working at the Commission's HQ, what he learned about their security protocols and how he'd worked around the Knox configuration. He said he'd repeatedly messed with their power sources during the last month and especially the week preceding the murders so security would be lulled into complacency. He described with vivid details how he'd killed the first security guard, why he'd chosen to burn to death everyone on the ground floor because he couldn't be bothered running behind a meager fifty people, the route he chose to get upstairs unnoticed, and how he'd cleaned the place room by room, person by person, slash by slash, before the judge interrupted him.

He took off his glasses.

He was clenching his fist, one eye narrowed and the other comically bigger, as though it would pop out.

"Why did you kill them?"

Again not a question that should've been asked, but Shoto's face was cold, gaze dull as he bent towards the mic, looking through everyone as though they weren't there.

"Because I could"

The faces changed; fear, disgust, anger, and he knew that this sentence had finished Shoto.

They'd forget everything he'd been, everything he'd done, and when he would die, nobody would mourn him.

He wished Katsuki was watching.

The sentence was pronounced: lifetime imprisonment, not because they were lenient but because they were afraid that had they pronounced a death sentence, he'd kill them all right there and then.

Whatever his reasons were for complying, he'd let a Hero handcuff him.

If he were playing a game, there was nothing they could do but dance to his tune.

Ten minutes later he was on his way back to the oil-slicked car.

It was eerily quiet.

His feet brushed softly against the ground, lighter than feathers : the staccato of his jailers' footsteps echoed like drums.

Even though he was manacled, surrounded by tens of police officers and the cream of the crop of Heroes, the murderer Shoto Todoroki was too terrifying of a sight.

They walked past a couple of journalists.

One of them let her mic fall next to his shoe.

Shoto stopped. The entire procession stopped. Everyone froze.

Her hands were oily with sweat. She shrunk on herself as he looked at her.

Calmly, Shoto spread his hands apart: the handcuffs shattered with a blood-curdling clac.

The officers' hands rose to their guns.

Icy sweat rolled down the nearest Heroes' necks.

The civilians were petrified, not daring to breathe for fear of attracting the monster's attention.

Everybody was ready for hell to break loose.

Then – slowly, carefully – Shoto bent.

He picked up the fallen mic and, just as slowly, stood up.

He handed it to the petrified journalist.

She didn't react, as still as a deer caught in headlights.

He put it in her half-opened pouch, patted it three times – she trembled.

He spun towards the nearest officer, hands raised.

A moment passed. Two. Three.

The officer flinched.

People were barely starting to react to Shoto's swift gesture, so painfully slow he could've killed half of the civilians here before any of them managed to draw their gun.

"It's broken"

It took him a moment to realize what Shoto meant.

He wiped his sweaty brow with an unstable hand, took out another set of manacles from his back pocket, and clasped them on Shoto's wrists.

He took a step forward and everyone fumbled to catch up to him. Moments later he disappeared behind one-way windows.

If before the efforts of the police and Heroes had been praised in apprehending the murderer, now everyone knew that the only reason Shoto Todoroki had been arrested was because he had allowed it.




There were four platoons of soldiers waiting for him on the island.

Everyone was armed to the teeth, so nervous they could've shot by accident.

They'd expected him to bolt at that point, leave and never come back, tell them he'd just wanted to mess with them before never being seen again.

Shoto paused. The sky was stormy gray.

Raindrops fell on his cheeks, rolled down his jaw.

He'd been soaked since he got to the tribunal.

Everyone was too scared to ask him to start moving again.

Shoto walked forward of his own volition, his chains clanking as he did so.

It took a moment for everybody to fall in line behind him.

They got him down the narrow corridors that led to Tartarus.

This time Shoto got to use the trapdoor with the special staircase.

He did notice that the hole he'd made before had been completely refilled.

The walls shuddered as he walked by, like a giant flower whose petals quivered under the breeze.

A couple of tendrils tried to sneak up on him, yet they shrunk and retracted when his gaze landed on them.

The two guards accompanying him exchanged glances.

There was barely anyone at the lowest level.

A couple of skeletons here and there, half absorbed by mucus walls, rib cage protruding from it as though they were puppets, head lolled, and arms dangling limply.

His cell was peculiar, more so than any other.

It was a mucus den, a hole carved in the ground at the end of a corridor, a whole other level under the other cells.

Blood was still seeping from the hole making the entrance, as though Tartarus had hurt when it'd been carved.

One of the guards brought a scaffold that had been left nearby for this very purpose.

Once inside, both men took Shoto's manacles off, careful not to turn their back on him as they climbed out.

They slid a lid shut on the entrance, effectively sealing him inside Tartarus' bowel.

The lid's interior side had been sprayed with animal blood; tentacles shot from the walls and lapped it, spreading on its surface until it was no different from the other walls.

Shoto leaned against the wall, arms on his raised knees, eyes closed even though it was dark.

An undersized tendril slowly crept up on Shoto's clothes.

It wrapped around his neck, sucking drizzles of his energy.

More tendrils came forward : Shoto's fire-lit finger pushed away some.

The wall hissed in pain then hummed, understanding, and didn't push further, only sucking on what it'd been authorized to.

Something moved behind the walls, its surface rippling like water.

Shoto's eyes snapped open.

On the wall before him, outline bulging under the shiny mucus, was a grotesque imitation of a human face.

Had it been real it would've been a giant's, for both head and chin touched respectively ceiling and ground.

There were two eyes – not even at the same level, not even the same size, lids opening on rosy globs without iris or pupil.

The mouth was open in a grotesque scream, mimicking horror well enough to pass for disturbing but not enough to be believable.

It was emulating the prisoners' agonizing faces, the only thing it knew.

Shoto watched it quietly.

Silence was not as grating here as it'd been in the silent room for here he heard the walls breathe and ripple, veins pumping blood under the skin-like surface. He heard how it ate the prisoner, so slow you wouldn't notice unless you knew what to search for, a colony of ants that nipped you with hundreds of thousands of mandibles.

Hours passed by, night arrived.

Most of the soldiers brought for his arrival had vacated the island.

They may have thought once he'd reached Tartarus he wouldn't want to stay anymore and they'd need to force him down, for Tartarus was their only hope to get rid out of him once and for all.

The giant head was still peering curiously at Shoto.

Slowly, its features morphed.

Hair grew and the face thinned, though the jaw grew squarer.

In moments only a giant replica of his face stood before Shoto.

The doppelganger wore a mask, at first, then it was shed, and Shoto was met with his bare face. He cocked his head to the side.

"You remembered me?"

Slowly, the head in the wall cocked too, though it had no neck.

Something gleamed in Shoto's eyes.

"Sentient," he murmured.

It hadn't been how he'd wanted to go with that one, but his plans had changed.

He'd just need to get out of here quickly enough.

Holding his left palm towards the ceiling, Shoto carved his flesh with his nail.

Blood rolled between his fingers, dripping on the ground. Small holes opened and greedily drank it.

Shoto carved a circle in his flesh, muttering under his breath, adding various unintelligible symbols.

The wall watched him quietly, the head even rising as though it was craning its non-existent neck to follow his gestures.

Shoto's eyes glowed red as he held the carved palm towards the giant head.

"Shinra Tensei"
 
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