[MHA] Shoto Todoroki : Modern-Day Terrorist

[Nar_cisse]

Touya was a prisoner, a shadow that walked the corridors of my house, a torment I had to endure until I could put an end to it.

He was the mirror of my mistakes, the reflection of my intention to purify my life.

If I must accept the consequences of my mistakes, he must know that it's only a matter of time before he pays the price for his actions.

I had been watching him for days, stalking my prey with the idea that he would make a mistake, a tiny little mistake that would be the end of him.

I'd already decided who would kill him and why, so no one would suspect me. All I needed was the video and I could put an end to my personal hell. And then...

Touya yawned at 2:12, stretched for six seconds, looked around the empty living room and then went to get his computer, which had been left on a wooden chest of drawers.

Touya was like a Swiss watch, his days so unnaturally precise that I knew they were planned by an acute paranoia - it only took one paranoid to recognise another.

I found it ironic that it was through planning his death that I got to know him, finding in his behaviour imitations of my own habits so astonishing as to be almost frightening.

He always sat at an angle, feet flat on the floor, facing both windows and doors. He didn't listen when Rei or his children spoke to him, spending his time answering exactly what they wanted. When the questions got too specific - in truth mere superficial questions - he'd dodge them or pretend that they brought back bad memories, memories of 'before I found back our family', and out of sensitivity they'd leave him alone.

I could see myself in his calculating glances when no one was looking, reminding me of the child I'd been as he floated like a shadow through the kitchen, eyeing knives intently, his hand trembling to pick one up and hide it in his pocket.

The nights I spent watching him sleep - when he chose to sleep - on the floor, under the bed, the sheets stuffed with pillows to make them look human, were not unknown to me.

The locked doors that were then blocked by chests of drawers, the dark circles and the jerks, the overweening suspicion, the trembling in his left hand when he thought he saw me approaching out of the corner of his eye, the relief in his shoulders when he saw it was my father, knowing that I couldn't hurt him as long as he was there, the worry when it was really me, the look of fear in his eyes when he met mine, because even though he had become impervious to pain, he knew that I was preparing a fate worse than death for him, a fate that would make him beg for an end to his torment, a fate that would make him whimper and cry and scream and shout and scream.

I'd never felt so close to him before.

Not even when he was a child, picking up the thimble in Monopoly to annoy Fuyumi.

Yet I knew I'd relish the way the light left his eyes, delight in the look of panic in his eyes as, triumphant, I would glower at him because I'd won.

I'll swap his ashes for a dog's so that no one can ever pay their respects to him.

Then I'll probably piss on his grave.

Touya cracked his knuckles, first his right, then his left, rolled his neck twice and shook his shoulders like an athlete about to step into the starting blocks.

I knew he hated being cooped up and scrutinised by Teka's two dogs, I knew his muscles were stiff and hard and heavy from lack of exercise and the atrophy that gave him cramps in the middle of the night.

I knew that he felt the walls were too close to each other, the rooms too cramped, the roof too unstable to be anything other than his future tomb.

I knew he sometimes regretted coming back, even though he loved the idea of having gotten me into deep shit, relished the idea of destroying me psychologically, and dreaded the way I would decide to destroy him.

Touya thought we were playing chess ; I was the sort of guy who destroyed the board to get to the king.

He leaned forward, eyes glued to the screen, a bluish light illuminating his face.

Cat video, MMA fight, cat video again, stupid challenge, cat video again, random video game videos for an hour and thirty-eight minutes, stupid challenge again, and - ah, there it was, the famous video of the man explaining how to swim or, for lack of energy, float on his back.

It was a small video from the depths of the Internet, with barely three thousand views and eighteen comments. Touya watched it every day, without exception, with an intensity that was almost frightening.

He scrolled down the list of comments.

I wonder if he thinks I'm going to drown hi-

He commented under someone else's reply and my sharingan activated automatically, catching his reply before he'd even finished typing it.

I can't manage to float on my back, please help me

Reply : You must be obese
Reply : Drown
Reply : Die

Touya often commented on random videos, but this was the third time he'd commented under the same text.


I was a shinobi, and shinobi did not believe in coincidence.

I dropped silently to the ground.

My chakra seeped into Touya's nervous system, giving him the illusion that he was still scrolling and watching other videos.

I picked up his computer and read the message he'd just typed.

Each of his three replies had been posted exactly two weeks apart.

The account he'd replied to had only been created two months earlier - just before Dabi decided to come back to life as Touya.

My eyes snapped back to Touya, who, with a misty look in his eyes and dilated pupils, was tapping away at the ghost of a computer, his hands hovering above the void.

I'd just found my clue.

*
- Listen, mate, I swear I don't know what you're talking about !

I kicked the door shut, sharingan focused on the pathetic man who retreated, arms in front of his face to protect himself.

I walked calmly, almost languidly, as he stumbled backwards, terrified, through his shabby, mouldy studio.

- I've never heard of-

My kunai leapt from my palm so quickly that I knew it gave the illusion that my hand hadn't moved.

The angle was perfect : the blade sliced through the Achilles tendon of his right ankle.

He collapsed like a tower hit by a missile, his right knee bending forward as the rest of his body fell backwards.

His butt hit his bloody ankle and he screamed, rolling onto his left side to take his weight off it and move his injured foot, sending a jolt of pain through his body.

- Talk

He sat up on one elbow, too slowly for my liking, and tried to lift his chin from his neck to look me in the eye.

A kunai slammed into his shin, going through his thigh from one end to the other like a nail through a picture frame.

He screamed and looked straight at me, and I gave him another reason to scream by throwing another knife into his thigh.

He screamed, paler than death, beads of sweat glistening on his upper lip and rolling to a few hairs on his chin.

I knew it wasn't necessary.

He'd been terrified from the second he'd seen my face, determined from the first bit of flesh sliced, but I found it hard to stop, feeling a kind of obscene satisfaction wash over me.

The more frightened he was, the calmer I felt, the pressure that had been building up on my spine for months diminishing, my frustration and anger at the fucking mess my life was becoming less intense, leaving me serene and deadly calm in an addictive sort of way.

I grabbed the next kunai by its ring, twirling it skilfully in my hand as his lips turned white and the last drops of blood left his face to trickle down his leg.

- Shall we see if I have enough to turn you into a porcupine ?

He was sprawled like a puddle on the floor, his grey tracksuit bottoms stained with blood, his head slumped back on his shoulder, heavy eyelids drooping over adrenaline-filled eyes.

He smelled of fear and weakness, and I took a twisted, guilty satisfaction in it, for I knew that I was supposed to be better than the Shoto of Nagano, better than the Shoto of Tokyo, better than the Shoto of the Camp, better than the Shoto of Kenzei, and yet I was worse than at my worst.

Clemency and kindness should be my dogma, but I had no trouble dropping the mask as long as neither my father nor Keigo were around.

And that was a good thing, wasn't it ?

I could be a better person when they were looking at me, and be as ruthless as necessary when their backs were turned.

That way I could be the good Shoto, the kind Shoto, and let off steam on the side when I was under too much pressure.

It was better for someone to take all my pent-up anger than for me to risk exploding one day and killing someone with my bare hands.

That, or cause the extinction of humanity.

He let out a grunt, groaned, stood still and then spoke hastily.

- Okay, okay, I'll tell you everything, just let me-

The kunai flashed from my hand to his.

- Quicker

His head jerked to the side and for a second, I thought I'd gone too far too fast.

But then he blinked and his eyes fell on his pierced thigh without seeing it, and the arm his head rested on began to shake with the effort.

- There's a copy of the video in the tape box under my bed, next to the bedside table.

His head fell forward as if he were going to faint ; he straightened up in a surge.

- One is in the USB in my desk drawer, the other in a plastic bag I've hidden in my flower pot

I went to work immediately, retrieving a black cassette and two damaged purple and yellow USB keys.

His eyelids half closed, he leaned on his shoulder.

- There's, there's another one I keep in a locker in Shinjuku...

His head jerked forward, his wet lips showing his teeth as if his mouth were paralysed.

- Which store ?

He didn't answer.

I bent down and slapped him.

His eyes were wide and groggy as his head slumped back.

I grabbed his chin and squeezed hard, my fingers digging into his fat cheeks, forcing him to look me in the eyes.

- Which store ?

- Shinjukuest, locker 49

I stopped for a second when I heard the number.

4, 'shi', death, and 9, 'ku', pain.

- The key to the locker ?

- My cousin Ito, under his bed... He- he lives in Kabukicho, second floor above sex shop

His tongue fell between his lips and I shook him dryly to wake him up.

- How many copies of the video?

- 4

- How many physicals ?

- 4

- None on a computer, tablet or phone?

- I don't want to- if someone hacks me and finds it-

The precaution was commendable, as it was indeed through the hack of someone who had been paid handsomely that I managed to find him.

- The video that Dabi asked you to keep : how many copies are there ?

I repeated my questions six times in a row, phrasing them differently each time to make sure he hadn't forgotten a single one.

He drooled on my fingers and I gripped his chin tighter.

- Why are you hiding the video from him ?

I was pretty sure he would die with his head in my hand before he even answered me.

- There was... one day on the street... didn't want my wallet... beat me up... saved and took my money... just a video, so I said...

He smiled, his pale lips stretching lazily across his exhausted face.

- ... like a hero, you know...

I smashed the smoke detector and then set fire to his body and his computer.

I closed the windows and then used a knife to cut a hole in the gas valve that fed his micro-kitchen.

Then I calmly left the flat in a huff, stopped at the foot of the building and looked up at the third floor.

It exploded in a spray of red and grey, the burning explosion shattering the windows and sending a shower of broken glass into the street.

Then the two floors below exploded in unison, because if I was paranoid enough to trace the source of a YouTube comment, someone else would find it odd that this was the only flat with a gas leak.

*

Author's note :

I exceptionnaly will push back friday and saturday chapters to saturday and sunday as I am, sadly, behind on my translation schedule.

I'm writing and translating so much nowadays I now know I will never do this mistake again.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, things are gonna get gradually more intense.

Drop me a comment if you feel like talking about this chapter, the story in general or where you think it's heading.

If you want to support the story AND read ahead of schedule, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

See you in the next update everyone !

 

[Eggmaster]

God I love how paranoid this boy is it is literally the definition of overkill how he handles things.

 

[Nar_cisse]

I clutched the sink with both hands, jaw clenched, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

I had exactly eleven days left to kill Touya before he tried to contact his IT guy to check if everything was alright.

The fact that he hadn't noticed what was going on was a stroke of luck : the 'gas leak' had barely been mentioned on television, with the Winter Olympics taking up more screen time.

Still, one of my clones had partially filtered all the newspapers, news videos and TV channels that Touya had had access to over the past few days, in order to avoid an impromptu panic attack.

Concentrating on my task, I applied layer after layer of genjutsu to my face.

Each layer was thinner than a hair and together, they were barely as thick as a sheet of paper.

When a genjutsu was applied - to an environment or in a person's mind - the summoner would see a mirrored version, ghostly, greyish and full of smoke, superimposed on their own vision of the world.

This was done so that the caster could keep track of his construction and avoid doing anything that might tip off his victim.

First I applied a pale, almost greyish filter to my skin, which made me look sick.

Then I added some light purple circles, which made my gaze look burdened. I reddened the outer corner of my eyes and the part under my eyelashes to give the impression that I'd been crying.

I widened my eyes slightly, increasing the surface area of my pupils to make myself look more harmless and downcast.

I worked slowly, my chakra humming softly under my skin, filled with a calm I hadn't felt in a long time.

Scarcella had told me to confide in someone, but I'd found something better : intense physical exercise - or hitting someone - was cathartic, so much in fact that I always, always felt better afterwards.

I could try to be a better person and discreetly purge my violent excesses without feeling guilty. It was a compromise I liked - and it was a win-win situation, wasn't it ?

My father was happy, Hawks was happy, I was happy.

My index finger brushed against my cheek.

The skin around my scar swelled up, making it look red and irritated, as if I'd scratched it violently... there, perfect.

Just a little bit of purple veering on green on my temple to hide the bruise Hawks had seen last time.
I ruffled my hair with one hand, releasing a few strands awkwardly to make a curtain over the bruise. It had to be discreet enough for Hawks to think I was trying to hide it, and visible enough for him to notice it.

I made a mess of my eyebrows to give the impression that I'd slept on my hand or shoulder.

I put on a long-sleeved black compression t-shirt with a turtleneck that doubled as a mask. Next came a pair of clean, pressed grey jogging bottoms and trainers.

He had to get the impression that I had deliberately prepared for our meeting, that I was trying to hide my pitiful state from him, even though his visual acuity would allow him to pick up all the little clues that would tell him that, no, I wasn't well.

Hawks saw me as a withdrawn teenager who preferred to solve his problems alone, rather than have the world pity him : I'd pretended to be confused the other time, now I had to look as if I'd decided to do something terrible.

I didn't let my esteem for Hawks or my guilt cloud my judgement.

Even if he is the only person besides dad who has given me a second chance...

No. What I was about to do was a necessity, not something superfluous. Hawks was just a tool, a means to an end : it was nothing personal.

Hawks had the motive and the means : he was the perfect scapegoat.

I covered myself in one last genjutsu, one that would give me the smell of someone who hadn't washed in days, but not really that of sweat.

It had to be a very strong smell, at least as potent as a strong alcohol, for Hawks to notice it.

I put on my watch and glanced absently at my hands, the reddened and irritated knuckles of my right hand obvious, as if I'd struck something violently in a fit of rage.

I took one last look at myself in the mirror, admiring the picture of contradictions and half-truths I had painstakingly painted.

It's showtime.

*

Hawks stretched, hand on his left ankle, leg extended.

The patrols were dull and repetitive at the moment : Hawks knew the vilains didn't strike as often in winter as they did in summer, but he still had energy to spare and wasn't about to make his adrenaline levels dwindle from one season to the next.

What did the villains have to do in winter that made them less prone to crime ? Maybe they got together with their families around some turkey ? Or maybe the snow and cold made them grumpy and they thought that if they were going to end up in prison, they'd better not miss the Christmas movies.

A scientist should take a serious look at this.

Anyway, it was winter, the first snow was falling, and Hawks was bursting with energy. He had enough trouble sleeping as it was, let alone when he had the urge to jump and run as he did now...

Hawks liked the idea of training in the evening.

It drained his batteries and allowed him to keep an eye on Shoto outside of their mentoring hours.

Keigo had been worried ever since he'd stormed into his office, but since nothing had happened since then...

Besides, he liked the kid. Sometimes he was taciturn in a "my life is a tragedy" kind of way, but most of the time he was downright funny - often in spite of himself, of course, but funny was funny and Keigo certainly wasn't going to complain.

So these night training sessions were a good thing, especially now that the internship was about to end.

Keigo hoped that by offering to see each other from time to time under the guise of training, it would encourage Shoto to come and visit him from time to time. That is, if he didn't prefer to hang out with the moth who (according to Hawks) was his best friend.

Nah, what was he on about, of course he was going to see him again : even if the kid decided he was done with him, Keigo would take every opportunity to drop by Yuei.

Hawk smiled and automatically switched to stretching his other leg.

He could already picture the look on his face when he pulled out the photos of him in his construction kit to embarrass him in front of all his friends...

And wasn't his birthday coming up soon ?

Keigo could make him a kind of photo album of shame, a kind of gift that would not be a gift, which he would accept by looking at him scornfully. Then Keigo would drag him off to one of the HQ bars to celebrate in style, ordering lots of booze and blowing all his cigarette smoke in his face.

When he would get angry, Keigo would smile and tell him in a condescending way, like an older brother rehearsing his siblings, that it was to train his patience and that he should be more humble.

The glass door clicked.

Hawks, legs crossed, still sitting on the floor, raised his head happily as his favourite kid walked in.

- A bit later and I'd have fallen asleep

The first thing he noticed was that Shoto didn't look him in the eye when he came in.

- Be thankful that I came

Yet his voice was as calm and collected as usual.

Hawks brought his legs up to him in a butterfly position and continued to warm himself as he watched curiously as he placed his things against the wall.

His hair was slightly dishevelled, falling oddly over his face.

- You look like a mop, Hawks remarked

Shoto had just taken off his motorcycle helmet.

- Yeah, 'course I do

'Yeah', not a 'it's my helmet' or 'the wind can do that, yes. Do you know what wind is ? Ever heard of it ?'.

Shoto took his mobile phone and keys out of his pocket.

Hawk's eyes wandered to his right hand, to his knuckles wrapped in bandages.

- How did you do that ?

Shoto looked up at him. His hair was clearly obscuring his sight, but he didn't push it back.

- What ?

- Your hand, Hawks said, pointing at it with his chin.

- I just hit a punching bag too hard

He tried to stretch his fingers, but a spasm of pain crossed his face.

- You sure it wasn't a wall ?

Shoto smiled, his voice dripping with sarcasm :

- Damn, how did you guess ?

Shoto tried to play it cool. Hawks nodded, sceptical.

He walked past Hawks and a stench enveloped the Hero like a poisonous cloud.

He had to hold back a gag reflex to avoid embarrassing the kid, but fuck.

He hadn't washed in how many weeks to smell like that ?

He sat down across from Hawks and started to warm up.

Just the fact that Hawks was able to smell him...

Shoto, legs in an L-shape, bent his upper body over his left leg, hand outstretched towards his foot.

His hair fell from his face and Hawks paused for a moment.

Shoto continued to stretch, unaffected by his gaze.

- Why are your eyes red ?

Shoto glanced at him in surprise, then brushed his hair back on his forehead.

- I haven't slept enough

- Have you been crying ?

Shoto gave him an insulted, disgusted look, as if such a thing was beneath him.

- Do I look like the type to cry ?

Hawks could have given up, told himself he was probably right, that it was the lack of sleep, but as he looked at him, he remembered the disappointed and hurt look on his face when he'd asked if he could help him and Hawks hadn't answered.

- You can trust me

Shoto, irritated, sat up straight.

- What are you talking about ?

- I'm not blind, Shoto. I can see your eyelids are swollen and the corners of your eyes reddened

The body odour that didn't stick to your presumably clean clothes...

- It's nothing, he mumbled, wiping his dry eyes with a useless gesture of his hand.

- What happened ?

Shoto, his head turned away, shot him a sideways glance, opened his mouth, closed it again, looked away and bit the inside of his cheek, making a sucking sound.

- Tell me. I'm listening

Hawk, patient, put his hands on his thighs and waited.

Shoto looked at him hesitantly, then pulled his legs up against his chest, his hands gripping his knees so tightly it felt like he was going to break them.

- Is it Dabi ?

The moment he said his name, Shoto's hands began to shake.

Jaw clenched, eyes riveted to the ground, he didn't dare look in Hawks' direction.

- I think...

Hawks leaned forward slightly, all ears, his wings rubbing against the blue mattress.

- Anything I tell you stays between us, right ? You won't repeat it to the Commission ?

Hawks, slightly hurt, acknowledged that he still had reason to be suspicious.

- Of course I won't. Anything you tell me will stay between Keigo and Shoto.

The teenager nodded several times, his eyes fixed on his hands, which he fiddled with nervously.

It was hard to tell through his mask, but Hawks was pretty sure his chin was trembling.

- I've... I've decided to kill Touya

*

Author's note :

Quick question : do you think Shoto can become a better person ?

My mind is already made but I want to know what you, readers, think about him and his character evolution and how he can evolve.

Maybe I'll listen to some suggestions if they go with what I wrote.

If you want read ahead of schedule up to 27 chapters AND support the story, then go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

And see you saturday for the next update everyone !

 

[Eggmaster]

I think that if shoto actually changes he can be great but I don't think that with his mindset being what it is he would change.

 

[Nar_cisse]

Hawk's stomach sank.

- I have to... I've seen him hanging around her room, you know ? I've seen the way he looks at her and, I can't, it's, I know what he's going to do to her and I can't...

Hawks watched, breathless, as Shoto pulled on his fingers so hard it must have been painful.

- The other night in the kitchen he hinted at... He told me what he'd done to others...

Mouth dry, eyes narrowed, Hawks tried to speak, but his voice seemed to come from afar.

- Whose room ?

Shoto looked up at him with haunted eyes.

- My sister's room.

Hawks was unable to answer.

- I- I wish there was another way, you know ? But I can't let him get away with it, and my father...

Shoto started rubbing his trousers with his palms so fast he could have set them on fire.

- I don't know- time is running out, and- and I've got to-

His voice became high-pitched.

- But I'm not a murderer, do you understand ? I don't want to...

He ran his hands through his hair, one after the other, pushing it back violently and then pulling at the ends as if to rip them out.

He looked on the verge of hysteria.

- If he dies suspiciously, everyone will know it was me, because I always said I hated him and then my father...

There was a gleam in his exhausted eyes, as if he was on the verge of tears.

Then he raised his head

- What should I do, Keigo ?

Hawk felt his heart pounding in his throat.

Shoto looked at him with a mixture of hope and fear, concern and resignation.

Hawks opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

'What should I do ?'

Shoto waited for an answer, dishevelled, his features drawn with fatigue and anxiety, a growing worry in his eyes.

Keigo wondered if this was how he had looked ten years ago when Dabi had dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night to ask for a spar.

He wondered if he'd looked just as frightened when he'd realised that Dabi had decided that only one of them would survive it.

He remembered his reluctance to strike to kill, unable to muster the courage to do what was necessary to save his life. He remembered telling himself that this was his friend, that he must certainly be in a bad mood, that he had to help him calm down so that they could talk about what was wrong.

That was what friends were for, wasn't it ?

And then Dabi had really tried to kill him.

Hawks, terrified, half-burned, had tried to stop Dabi's funeral march, crawling backwards to get away from the flames that stretched from the boy's feet like a deathbed.

Practically all his wings had been burned off, leaving only two feathers.

Hawks had stopped crawling. Dabi had come closer.

Hawks didn't need to turn to know that Dabi's hand was hovering over his body, fingers burning like embers, ready to ignite at any moment.

Dabi was going to immolate him.

Keigo had turned violently, a feather shooting like an arrow from his outstretched hand.

Touya, startled, took a step back.

Keigo noticed the widening of his eyes and the panic that lit up his gaze. He had noticed the way his arms, too slow, had risen to protect his face, and the spasm that had shaken his right leg in an instinctive jerk to pull himself back.

For a moment, Keigo had been sure that he would have to kill to survive.

When he saw his face, that certainty vanished.

The feather deflected a centimetre to the right.

It cut clean through his cheekbone and flew away.

Touya had groaned and bent his knees as if to cower - or offer a smaller target - his hands brushing his cheekbone.

It was as if tears of blood ran down his cheek.

Touya, speechless, half bent, had remained motionless, his gaze fixed on Keigo's, the certainty that he had almost died paralysing him for a moment.

There had been a violent knock at the door of the gym. Alarmed, Touya looked over his shoulder.

Keigo still had one feather left.

It wasn't for Touya.

But even that one he'd been too weak to use.

So Touya had raised his hand, sent a geyser of fire at Hawks and fled.

And then...

Months later, after he had been deemed recoverable and useful, Hawks was told what had happened that night.

Touya had tried to kill his little brother.

When he learned that the child was only five years old, Hawks had never felt more guilty in his life.

If he hadn't let his feelings get in the way, if he had been more clearheaded, more decisive, then the little boy would never have had blood on his hands.

A part of him was relieved that Touya was dead and buried, but another part - an abnormally large part - regretted that he hadn't been the one to put an end to it.

He should have been more sure of his judgement, he should have been more decisive, he should have been less of a coward, he should have been less weak, he should have done more, been more-

If he'd killed him ten years ago, Shoto wouldn't be on the verge of an anxiety attack at the mere mention of the murderer with whom he shared his blood.

If he'd killed him…

- You won't do anything

It was ironic, wasn't it ?

He found himself protecting the brother of the man he had dreamed of slowly strangling for almost ten years.

- I can't-

- I'm the one who's going to kill him

*

Bonus 1 :

Monoma touched All Might's outstretched hand.

The moment he activated his Quirk, a blast of hot energy raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

He clenched and unclenched his fist in excitement, feeling a new kind of energy flow through his body.

- Don't overdo it

He turned his head towards Aizawa and the headmaster who were standing at the edge of the training area.

Aizawa looked worried, while the headmaster seemed to be having the time of his life.

The energy coursing through Neito's body was like a battery of pure adrenaline: his perception of the world had increased tenfold, each nerve impulse sending more complex and precise information to his brain.

The grass seemed greener, the sky bluer, the wind on his skin so intense that he felt its presence as if it were a million separate fragments rather than a whole.

His mind seemed numb, but his body was a bundle of energy ready to explode.

He felt like he was racing through life in a world of oil and fatigue.
He wondered how All Might kept a head cool with a Quirk that made him so strong, so powerful, better and smarter and more able to dominate-

- Does this look like a Quirk you've copied before ?

Neito looked up at Nezu.

He smiled knowingly, condescendingly, in a way he wouldn't have done had he been in his normal state of mind.

- You mean Shoto's ? No

All Might cleared his throat.

- Try to hit the wall, but do it gently, otherwise-

Neito, his brain drowning in adrenaline, threw a single sharp punch.

The whole field shook, cracks spreading from his feet to the ends of the field.

The wall exploded towards Neito in a spray of rocks and whitish dust.

The teenager smiled proudly.

- You-

His eyes rolled back into their sockets and Neito fell unconscious onto his shredded arm, reeking of blood.

*

Bonus 2 :

All Might looked at the photos of the four teenagers printed out in front of him.

He pulled Uraraka's picture towards him, pushed Bakugo's back, moved Togata's to the left and left Yoarashi's in the middle.

He knew that time was running out - he himself had been the first to say so - but he couldn't make up his mind.

What qualities should the next bearer of the One for All have ?

Loyalty and a heightened sense of justice.

These were qualities that each of the four teenagers possessed to a greater or lesser extent.

It was these qualities that Nana had seen in All Might and that had earned him the All for One.

But now they seemed almost obsolete.

Mirio was a professional hero in all but name, Katsuki and Inaza had been key elements in the USJ incident... and even though it had been Nezu who had suggested that All Might integrate Uraraka into his private study group, she had proved herself more than up to the task - and that wasn't counting her courageous trek through a villain-infested summer camp to bring an injured Katsuki to safety.

Loyalty and a heightened sense of justice : they had it all.

The best element - the most versatile - was Mirio.

Mirio was what All Might had once been, smiling and ready to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, and yet...

What qualities did All Might look for in his heir ?

Loyalty, a heightened sense of justice. Steadfastness. The ability to use lethality if necessary to prevent a greater evil from returning.

The ability to do what All Might had twice failed to do.

But All Might couldn't go to each of the children and ask them if they were prepared to kill if necessary.

That wasn't something you could ask people, let alone sixteen-year-olds.

All Might ran a hand through his hair, his troubled gaze flicking through the photos.

He knew a teenager who would have said yes, but he'd rather die than see the day he got the One for All.

All Might couldn't understand how Nezu and Aizawa couldn't see that the boy was a monster in the making.

Everything about him screamed of a madman who would rather blow up the world with him than die alone. He was the kind of person who, when hurt, would hurt back so that everyone would feel his pain.

He was - is, would be - a threat.

The next bearer of the One for All would not only have to put an end to All for One once and for all, they would also have to stop Shoto Todoroki on the day he finally snapped.

And on that day, the person most likely to stop him...

All Might pulled a picture towards him.

*

Author's note :

You didn't see that one coming, did you ?

If you want to support the story AND read ahead up to 27 chapters, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

See you in the next update everyone !

 

[Nar_cisse]

- Shoto ?

I froze in the doorway, helmet in hand, shoes on the verge of being put on.

Even if I'd barely heard it over the last few years, I'd recognise that voice anywhere.

- Can I talk to you for a bit ? It won't take long

I didn't answer, preferring to turn my head ambiguously towards the front door.

- Just give me a minute

I hesitated, my fingers digging into the foam of my helmet, my eyes going to my watch : I had lunch with Hawks in thirty minutes....

- Please

I sighed and put my shoes back on the shelf and the helmet back where it belonged.

She didn't smile when I turned to her, just nodded and turned on her heels in a way that clearly meant 'follow me'.

So I followed her, a little farther back, strolling lazily.

She was small, frail, so fragile that I could have broken her simply by pushing her.

I wasn't sure why I was following her.

Maybe out of pity, certainly out of curiosity.

She took me to the west wing, a place I hadn't been in eleven years.

The moment we crossed the last corridor of the 'common' section between the east and west wings, the scenery changed.

The previously empty walls were suddenly filled with picture frames. Hundreds of them showed Rei, Fuyumi and Natsuo skiing, diving, singing at a karaoke, climbing up a mountain.

Fuyumi holding a starfish, Natsuo in a plaster cast, Fuyumi in a pink taffeta dress with fairy wings, Natsuo having a mud fight with another unknown child, Rei eating meat kebabs, a terrified Rei skydiving, a crying Natsuo in straps on a bridge, clutching what looked like a bungee instructor while Fuyumi, her hair dishevelled, laughed at him.

The east wing smelled different to ours, smelled of four different people, but none who weren't Todoroki.

There were no staff on that side of the house, just Rei and her children.

We passed by a living room that was smaller and more cosy than the one in the main building : a board game lay abandoned on table, salad bowls and glasses were piled up in the sink of the tiny kitchen.

No chef cooked here but Rei and maybe whoever else felt like it.

They had to eat their meals as a family every day, sitting around this tiny three-seater table, elbow to elbow, telling each other about their days, laughing and getting angry when their knees bumped into each other's too much.

There were silly drawings and reports on the fridge door, a blanket left on the sofa, cushions thrown carelessly on the floor, a pile of books next to the television.

Their house was just an extension of ours, barely a hallway away, and yet I felt like I was in a completely different world.

We had photos too, but since it was Teka who took them and Teka who insisted on keeping them... neither my father nor I were the type to ask for copies.

Sword and Cross hadn't been the type to hand out certificates to hang on fridges, and I wasn't sure I'd have liked to see my various middle school expellings framed, lined up and displayed for all to see.

We'd taken a few trip here and there, but we'd stopped when we realised that every holiday would end in either an abduction attempt (for me) or an assassination attempt (for my father).

Leaving aside the bad times, I had a whole life full of happy memories, moments that made me smile when I thought about them - my life was good, but it was the antithesis of what they had lived.

Their life had been easy, peaceful, full of sunny days and public parks.

A long time ago... a long time ago I would have blamed them for living such a quiet life while I...

Even I could see that this reasoning was selfish and egocentric.

I wasn't the main character in a tragic play, I wasn't the protagonist of this world, I wasn't the pitiful child who thought he was lucky, that he was different, that he could live his life as he saw fit.

Whether I died or not, the earth would continue to spin and the sun would continue to rise.

What I'd been through was not their fault, let alone their responsibility.

I looked again at the photos of laughter and happiness, captured at the perfect moment.

A long time ago I would have felt resentment, probably even a little jealousy.

But now...

I smiled.

Good for them.

Rei stopped, one hand on the shoji, glancing over her shoulder as if to make sure I was still there.

She pushed open the sliding door, leaving her slippers inside before entering.

- Close the door behind you, please

I stepped inside, my eyes scanning the room.

Rei sat in seiza behind a low table with a teapot and two cups.

The linen walls were empty, the decor sober.

I had half expected to see Touya beside her.

I sat down opposite Rei, my left leg as if I were sitting cross-legged and my right knee raised, my outstretched arm resting on it.

She served us in turn, pouring two spoonfuls of sugar into her cup and setting the other aside.

- You like your tea plain, if I remember correctly ?

I nodded and took the cup.

She smiled softly, her eyes downcast, the creases at the corners of her mouth deepening.

- Just like your father

Her fingers were clasped around her mug.

She still wore her wedding ring.

I waited for her to speak; she took another sip of her green tea in silence.

Keeping my eyes on her, I raised the cup to my face. Her head was still low.

She was old like my father, but in a different way.

Her wrinkles weren't from stress and fatigue, but from laughing and smiling. Her skin wasn't pale, but parchment from spending too much time under the sun. Her hair hadn't been cut with kitchen scissors by her son, but by a quality hairdresser who knew what he was doing.

Her fingers weren't stained with ink, her shoulders weren't heavy from the worry I caused her, her hair wasn't prematurely white from the stress I inflicted her.

She smelled of shampoo, flour and mint.

She smelled like my father should have smelled if I'd been a better son.

With one finger I pulled my mask down over my chin, put the cup in front of my face and pretended to drink.

When my mask was back on and the cup barely in place, she began to speak.

- You know... I've thought a lot about you these past few years.

There was a silence.

A long time ago I would have had the audacity to think she was waiting for me to respond something along those lines, but now I knew she just wanted to talk and for me to listen.

- To tell you the truth, I don't think I've spent a single day of my life since you were born without worrying about you.

She smiled and there was something sad in her expression.

- You were a quiet child, you know ? Even as a baby, you only cried when you wanted me to feed you

Eyelids lowered, she looked down at her tea and smiled at her own reflection.

- I'd had three children before you, so it wasn't hard for me to understand that you were different. Of course, for a while I thought you were ill, or that there was something else wrong with you. But in the end, you were just a precocious little boy. I didn't love you any less for that, quite the opposite

I wanted to wiggle uncomfortably, but I forced myself to stay still and stared at Rei as if I was seeing her for the first time, because in a way, this was really the first time I'd had a conversation with Rei Todoroki.

- As soon as you could walk, you ran after Enji. I remember it well : the second he crossed the threshold, you were at his side, tugging at his trousers to make him pay attention to you. Touya, Fuyumi and Natsuo always left him alone because they knew he was tired, but you... no matter how many times I made you promise to leave him alone every day, you just said 'yes' and kept coming back...

She smiled... fondly at the memory.

- I think your father really liked knowing that someone was waiting for him like that every day. He always found it hard to cope with all the shouting and noise, but because you were so quiet... (She paused for a moment) You soon became his favourite, you know ? He used to listen to you talk about your favourite comic strip - do you remember ? It was Princess Sarah - for hours on end, read you stories in the evenings when he wasn't home late, picked you up from your cot when you were asleep to hold you on his knee while he worked in his office. Enji told me he was trying to create someone more powerful than him, and at first I thought it was because your hair was-

She shook her head.

- But it was much deeper than that. Over time, he even stopped talking about All Might and his ambition, and... for a while, we were a very happy family. It was more than I could have ever hoped for.

Rei seemed calm, at peace.

Then her face wrinkled, worry creasing her forehead.

- Touya eventually noticed the preferential treatment and took it personally. He was angry all the time and no matter how much I told him that the way Enji treated you didn't mean he loved him any less, he told me I was lying. Looking back, I think he was right.

*

Author's note :

This cut at the end of the chapter is horribly abrupt, I know, but I couldn't find a satisfying way to split this part up and it was way, way too long to make it one chapter, so sorry everyone.

If you want to support the story AND read ahead of schedule up to 27 chapters, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

See you in the next update everyone !

 

[Nar_cisse]

Lips parted, chin resting on her neck, Rei took a slow sip of her tea.

- Touya was jealous of you, you know ? And your father was so openly on your side that I thought I should balance things out... You were so young, I thought you wouldn't remember. But I was wrong, wasn't I ?

I nodded a little belatedly, not expecting her to ask my opinion.

- He was right, she murmured, You really did remember everything...

Her fingers tightened on the cup. Her glass shook and the reflection of her face blurred.

Rei's eyes became misty, cloudy, as if she was going to cry, and I startled in panic at the thought of her actually crying in front of me, because I had no idea how to handle... this.

- There was-

She cleared her throat and forced herself to straighten her shoulders to regain her composure.

- As a parent, telling yourself that there's something wrong with your child is like telling yourself that you've missed something, that it's your fault, that you should have been more, done more and...

Her voice broke.

- I only wanted us to be a happy family. I still don't think there's anything wrong with that. It's a natural wish for any parent. On the other hand, the way I've acted has been deplorable.

Still without looking at me, Rei inhaled sharply.

- I thought that if I paid attention to Touya and showed him that I was there for him, he would understand... I should have... if only you knew how many things I regret

I was uncomfortable, but also morbidly curious, because despite all these years, I'd never understood what had gone through Rei's head.

Touya had attacked me so many times and all she'd done was be more protective and caring towards him whereas I-

- I should have been there for you, Shoto. You were suffering the most in there, you were the one who- who were crying in the toilet, hoping that the flush would drown out the noise

What was the point of apologising after so many years ? What was the point of stirring the pot after all this time ?

My father was the only one who had stuck by me through thick and thin : she had no right to come and beg me for forgiveness now.

- Everything was so confusing, and when Touya died - when he set fire to the house... He was dead and I convinced myself that it was Enji's fault, that he shouldn't have differentiated between his children, and I wanted to take you all with me, but- it was as if he was only thinking of you, even though our son had died and our other two children had almost suffocated because of the smoke, and- when he told me that he would leave me alone on the condition that I'd leave you to him, I... I found it so hard to look you in the eye, I felt so ashamed and guilty because I felt that everything you'd been through was my fault and that I could have made it right if I'd only been less- if I'd only been more-

She hiccupped.

- Then your father took you away, and the ease with which you forgot me made me- it made me-

A tear formed at the corner of her eye : she quickly brushed it away with the tip of her finger.

- I tried to hold on to you, I negotiated a few meetings for your birthdays, and I understood that you had every reason in the world not to want to see me anymore, and... I remember the first time I saw you in that mask, when you were eleven. You looked so much like a stranger... and the way you looked at me was so different, like you'd rather I left you alone, so I- I-

Her fingernails scratched the mug. She frowned, looking at it without really seeing it.

- So I tried to leave you alone, to tell myself that I could love you from afar, knowing that you'd always be safe because your father would do anything to protect you, but when I saw that press conference...

She shook her head in disbelief.

- I learned more about you in that one minute of listening to you speak in your father's defence than in sixteen years of being your mother, and I thought how pathetic I was for worrying that I wouldn't see you when you were in so much pain, and when you mentioned that Kenzei, your expression...

Suddenly, Rei burst into silent sobs.

She pressed the palms of her hands to her eyelids, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

Embarrassed, I looked away towards the wall.

- I'm sorry, she whispered between tears. I know you don't like when things gets too emotional, and I really promised myself I wouldn't make you feel uncomfortable, but when I think of everything you've been through, I feel so, so, so sorry for you-

Rei moved back and I thought she was going to stand up.

- Forgive me, Shoto. Forgive me.

Suddenly she dropped to her knees, her forehead on the floor, her hands on either side of her face.

- Forgive me for not being the mother you needed, forgive me for being weak and blind, forgive me for being cruel and ignorant, forgive me for ignoring you when you only needed someone to be by your side, forgive me for telling myself that it didn't matter because you would forget everything, forgive me for living such an easy life with Fuyumi and Natsuo while you were- while you were-

Her voice broke.

Rei fell silent, jolts shaking her shoulders.

I froze, one hand on my mask, looking at her without knowing what to do.

I had long since gotten used to the idea that Rei didn't love me as much as the others, that she found me too strange and not worthy of her, that she didn't consider me necessary in her life and-

- Forgive me, she murmured. Forgive me.

So why is she apologising now ? Why has she come back after eleven years ? Why is she-

- Please get up

I was ashamed enough for both of us.

She sat up, her cheekbones and nose flushed, strands of hair clinging to her jaw.

- It's too late to apologise

- I know it is

I couldn't forgive her, not after I'd doubted her for so long, wondering if she - had she been the one to find us in the bathroom - would have been so overwhelmed by Touya trying to drown me that she'd let me die, not after I'd seen her hug Touya as if he were the one who'd almost died, not after Dad told me she'd agreed to leave me behind as long as she could have her two other children-

- But thank you. For apologising.

I couldn't forgive her - not because she didn't deserve it, but because I didn't see what there was to forgive. She had seemed sincere to me, but it was a sincerity that came a decade too late.

I didn't think Rei was a bad woman : she had just been a bad mother to me.

Still, hearing her apologise - admit she'd been wrong - had made me feel better.

I didn't care about Rei or what she thought, and it wasn't going to change : but seeing her regret and crying gave me a feeling of satisfaction, of closure, as if the me of ten years ago had been right to be angry with her for her behaviour, and hearing her say out loud that yes, I was right, allowed the Shoto of the past to finally be at peace and move on.

It felt... nice.

- I'll go now, I murmured.

She nodded softly, a gentle smile on her face, as if she hadn't expected anything better and was content.

It was strange to think that it had taken me over a decade to realise that Rei was just a human being, fallible and capable of making mistakes, and that she wasn't a monster devoid of empathy.

I got up quietly and left.

I was already late for my meeting with Hawks.

*

BONUS:

- Do you think it went well ?

Fuyumi, holding a cup of coffee, shrugged.

- I wish it did, but you know how he is...

Natsuo laughed dryly.

- That's the point : none of us know what he's like

The doorbell rang.

Rei entered the restaurant, a pile of snow forming a pyramid on her hair.

- Ah, there's mum

The head waiter, who took her jacket, took the opportunity to brush her hair.

- Thank you, Akira, she said.

- Your children are over here, Director

He led her into a glass alcove that felt like a bubble in the corner of the restaurant.

A comfortable sofa with soft cushions had been arranged in a U-shape around a table ; hanging plants hung from the windows.

The snow falling on the glass of the designed egg gave the impression of being inside a snow globe.

Natsuo moved to the side and patted the sofa next to him.

- Here, sit down, Mum

Rei slid in and kissed her son's cheek and then her daughter's in greeting.

- I'll bring you an aperitif right away, said one of the waiters who had come to meet them.

A few seconds later he returned with drinks and garlic bread with salmon and mushroom petits fours.

- Well ? asked Rei. How do you like the new restaurant ?

- Great, said Natsuo. I really like the decor with the hanging plants and everything

- It's different from your other restaurants, isn't it ? asked Fuyumi. I mean, there's no dress code here and I noticed the price difference just by looking at the menu.

Natsuo put a piece of bread in the oven.

- It's true that there are no prices on the other menus

Rei smiled.

- Yes, I wanted to create something more affordable

- Tired of your high-end customers ?

- More like an expansion of your business into the mainstream, Natsuo countered

- It seems that paying for this business school wasn't a bad idea

Natsuo rolled his eyes.

- Just because I wanted to give it all up once to become a professional football player-

- And then a singer, actor, painter, hockey player-

- Doesn't mean I hate my degree, Natsuo said. To tell you the truth, I'm pretty good at it

- Then you'll be my right-hand man when you finish your MBA , Rei said.

Natsuo wrinkled his nose.

- I don't want to be one of those mama's boys who go straight into their parents' company after school. I've got to try things out for myself


- All mum has to do is get you started as a cleaner in her company and then you'll just have to climb the ladder : that way, no one will be able to say you're a nepo baby

Natsuo seemed to consider the idea.

Fuyumi clapped her hands and turned to Rei.

- Well ? How did it go ?

Rei slowly took off her cashmere scarf.

- Actually better than I thought

Fuyumi's face lit up.

- That good ?

- He followed me obediently and listened to everything I had to say without interrupting

Natsuo squeezed his mother's shoulder, happy that she was happy.

- You see ? It wasn't that difficult

Rei smiled softly, her cheekbones rosy from the cold, making her look like a child at the height of joy.

- I always said Shoto was a nice boy, Fuyumi said.

- No one said he wasn't, Natsuo said. It's just that with everything that's happened...

He became quiet.

Natsuo and Fuyumi exchanged glances.

They'd often talked after all the revelations of the last few months and agreed that as big brother and sister - if not to say family - they'd been pretty shitty.

- Anyway. So did he accept your apology?

- I don't think so, Rei said gently, But he thanked me for the apology. It's as if he was happy I'd shed light on the whole thing

- Because he'd misinterpreted your actions ?

- No, more like he'd never understood why I'd done what I'd done, and he was glad to know

Which was rather sad.

- Do you think we could try to rebuild something ? asked Fuyumi. That we could try to get to know him ?

Natsuo looked down at his glass and shook the ice cubes with his straw.

- That would be nice

- Yes, really nice, Rei murmured. But I think it would be too much to ask

Everyone grew silent, lost in their own thoughts.

It would be insensitive and selfish of Rei to ask anything of Shoto.

She felt that under the circumstances, it would be best to let him live his life and watch from a distance, hoping that one day he'd look in her direction.

- At least it's nice to know that he has a father and that he treats him well, Fuyumi said.

Natsuo hummed.

Another silence.

Enji hadn't been an ever-present figure in Natsuo and Fuyumi's lives, only a distant ghost who paid the bills and holidays and helped Rei finance her restaurant project until it became (extremely) profitable.

To imagine him as a caring and loving father seemed far-fetched, but that was the man he was to Shoto.

Fuyumi still remembered the summer when she and Natsuo had asked Rei why they hadn't seen their father or brother since a while. There had been a lot of shouting and crying, and at one point, Fuyumi had even sworn never to speak to her mother again, but...

And Enji had only agreed to their mother's proposal because he wanted to keep Shoto for himself and only himself, hadn't he ?

Back then, it had hurt a lot to think that her father loved one of his children more than the others and that it wasn't her. Then she'd thought that her mother had kept her 'favourites' with her too, in a way, and that must have hurt Shoto too, so she'd felt less bad.

Still, Fuyumi had been very angry with both her parents for a while, and she knew that Natsuo had been, too.

Years later, Fuyumi had learned that her mother had still tried to take the three of them with her for a fresh start, but in the face of Enji's outright refusal, had decided to leave Shoto with him in exchange for him 'leaving them alone'.

It was probably worse in a way, because it meant that their mother had chosen to sacrifice one child for what she considered the 'safety' of the other two, while their father had judged that one child was more valuable than the others.

- I know I shouldn't say this, Natsuo said, But sometimes I feel uncomfortable when I'm with him...

Fuyumi blinked stupidly.

- Shoto ?

- No, I'm talking about Touya

He looked confused.

Fuyumi put her hand on his to comfort him.

- He scares me a bit too sometimes, but that's just because we're not used to knowing him anymore.

- I don't know, Natsuo said. When we were at the police station, everything seemed great because Touya was there and alive, but then...

He shrugged.

Fuyumi agreed wholeheartedly.

The moment of reunion had been great, full of euphoria and joy and happiness. Touya had literally come back from the dead on a beautiful autumn day, just as Fuyumi had often dreamed of shortly after his death.

He didn't have the face she remembered or the smile she cherished, but it was really him, he was really there.

It wasn't until later, when she was alone in her room and thought of Touya's expression when they had embraced, that Fuyumi had doubted if he was happy to see them again.

- All those things the papers said he did...

- You know they're just lies to make people buy, Fuyumi said.

Natsuo gave her a piercing look.

- But some of them are true

Fuyumi didn't answer because he was right.

If they had all been lies, then Touya wouldn't be waiting for a trial to judge his criminal life.

Fuyumi had gone online one evening to look at the list of crimes she was accused of.

She hadn't been able to read it to the end.

- I'm going to say something terrible, Natsuo murmured, But sometimes I think...

He licked his lips, nervously squeezing his sister's hand between his own, refusing to look her or her mother in the eye.

- I tell myself he would have been better off dead

- Natsuo !

- I- I don't want to be mean, okay ? But when I look at him, I can't see anything of the brother I lost

- He has grown up, people change

- It's not that, Natsuo said impatiently. It's just the way he talks to me and looks at me... There's something wrong with him, something that makes me jump every time he makes a sudden move or talks too loudly

Rei put an arm around her son and held him close.

He was huge, like any good rugby player, so it was almost comical to see him leaning gently against a tiny woman.

- It's... The Touya I remembered was kind and funny, and this one... If they hadn't done the DNA test, I wouldn't have believed it was him

Rei, her lips tight, squeezed her son's shoulder.

She shared his worries and fears, but she refused to be passive again and let her son unravel through her fingers until he disappeared.

- I know it's difficult for both of you, Rei said, The fact that your brother is here again and that he's so... different, is something that's hard to accept, but you must remember that he needs the help and support of his family

Neither Natsuo nor Fuyumi reacted.

- And then, Rei added half-heartedly. If he scares you, remember that your grandmother's bodyguards are always around.

It also made Rei feel more at ease while spending alone time with her eldest son, even if she felt guilty about it.

- You're right, Natsuo murmured.

Rei smiled encouragingly.

- Ah, the food is on its way : both of you stop looking so glum and try some of my new chef's dishes

*

Author's note :

Some light shed on Rei's behavior years later after the deed - guess closure doesn't always happen when we want it but only when we need it.

If you want to support the story AND read ahead of schedule up to 27 chapters, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

See you in the next update everyone !

 

[Nar_cisse]

Planning a murder wasn't difficult.

Planning a clean murder, however, was a different matter.

"I suppose you've already thought about the 'how', haven't you ?"

Hawks was perfectly cool, flawlessly professional.

He opened one of the Chinese food boxes, peered inside, then handed it to me.

"It's yours"

I picked up the stretchy shrimp noodles and a pair of chopsticks lying on the coffee table.

"The 'how' is the hardest part. If he dies suddenly, mysteriously, then..."

Hawks, nostrils flared, smelling a box of egg rolls, looked up at me.

"You'll be culprit number one even if no one can prove it's you"

I nodded.

Hawks smiled good-humoredly.

"You shouldn't have said you hated him at a press conference"

I shrugged lightly, with a 'such is life' attitude.

Hawks rummaged at the bottom of the paper bag.

"So, about the 'where' that you had in mind... I can't find the sauces, you've seen them ?"

I shifted the bottle of Shochu and pushed the transparent bags with one hand.

"Here"

"There they were"

He poured them briskly over his noodles, added some cheese he'd melted in the microwave and expertly cut slices of katsudon pork, which he placed delicately on top.

Hawks was one of those strange people who ordered food as if it were ingredients to be combined into... monstrous dishes.

He interpreted my disgusted look as he saw fit.

"Want some ?"

"No, thank you"

He shrugged and started to eat.

I lowered my mask to eat, feeling his gaze hover over my face.

Living covered for so long made me feel naked every time I took it off; I didn't feel uncomfortable when I did it with my father, but I had never taken it off even with Katsuki.

Hawks... it was hard to say.

I felt naked and vulnerable right now, but I needed him to think that I trusted him - and what better proof of trust than showing him my face, a face that only two people had seen in eleven years ? - and in some way I did trust him, but at the same time I didn't know if I would have shown it to him in circumstances where I didn't need him.

We ate in silence, the sound of the TV providing conversation.

Hawks pulled the cork off an alcohol bottle, offered me a drink as usual (which I declined) and then helped himself to a shot glass.

Why he had shot glasses in his apartment was not a question I wanted answered.

Still, the fact that he isn't drinking from the bottle directly is a good sign.

He exhaled, satisfied, dropped onto the sofa and patted his belly like a pregnant woman.

He took a cigarette from the inside pocket of his jacket, then lifted one buttock and pulled out a lighter from his jean's pocket - lighter when he's in a good mood, match when he needs to feel every cigarette he takes - then lit his personal drug.


"You were talking about the location"

I wiped my mouth, drank a glass of water, then pulled my mask back on.

"It's not the murder itself that's going to be the problem, but rather the 'how' "

The tip of Hawk's cigarette reddened.

- Go on

"We shouldn't think of the murder as murderers, but rather as investigators. The question is, what makes it possible to track down a murderer ?"

I went to get some of the markers from the pen cup on the dresser at the entrance of Hawk's apartment.

I tore open the kraft paper bags in which our food had been delivered, pushed the boxes aside, then spread the brown papers on the coffee table as if they were sheets of paper.

"Truth is, there's no such thing as a perfect murder"

I wrote "murder" in big letters, in the middle of everything.

"A good murder, on the other hand, is one that sows enough doubt and confusion that no one can come up with a clear trail"

I drew a line between the "murder" bubble and a freshly drawn "murderer" one.

"74% of homicides involving people over the age of 15 are committed outside the family*. In this case, however, the police will be more interested in the victim's domestic environment, as he is literally sequestered in his home while awaiting trial"

I wrote 'intra-family setting' under 'murderer'.

- "The intra-family scene is restricted : there's my father, myself, Fuyumi, Natsuo and Rei. In fact, out of the five of us, I'm the only one with a motive"

I put my name below the 'murderer' category.

- "If the police decide to widen their scope of search, they could consider my grandmother, my father's co-workers, Rei's friends Fuyumi's and Natsuo's, or even - more potentially - my friends"

Katsuki, Natsu and Leo, Keigo.

"And who's the only other person with a motive among all these people ?"

"Me", Hawks quietly said.

I nodded.

"Exactly"

I then wrote his name under 'killer'.

"The police might look into the victim's criminal connections, but only for a little while : they'd soon realize that no one he knew had the means to contact him or get him out while he was living in seclusion. On the other hand I'm in contact with Touya and so are you through me"

I circled both of our names.

"Erasing the evidence to the point where no murderer can be identified sounds like a good idea on paper, but it's the thing that will lead to our downfall in the long run"

"For if the police don't have a single lead that can lead anywhere but to us, then they are bound to come back to us", Hawks said.

I made another dash below both our names.

"Exactly. What we need is to give them someone who could have killed Touya with a little luck and a lot of chance. We have to give them someone who panicked, who tried to cover his tracks, but who was rude, disorganized, and afraid of getting caught"

Hawks watched me in silence, eyes narrowed, his smoke rolling in gray swirls around his face.

"I suppose you have some idea who that might be ?"

"I do"

It was a man accustomed to honor killings, whose brother - whom he knew to be in contact with Dabi - had recently perished in a gas leak.

"It's best you know as little as possible, for your own safety"

And in the eventuality that a policeman with a Quirk of some kind forces you to reveal everything you know about your fellow partner in crime.

Hawks raised a hand to interrupt me.

"Is he a civilian ?"

I interrupted my explanation for a second.

Ah, obviously he's more worried about me framing an innocent man than killing someone who 'deserves it'.

"Only a criminal with a record longer than my arm. He sold... pictures of children and stuff like that and got caught. He spent a few years in jail for that and only recently finished his sentence"

The picture I painted of him seemed to revolt as much as it soothed Hawks.

"He's a computer specialist; he sells his services at a high price to whoever needs them, and not necessarily to the right people"

I wrote "computer specialist" in the "murderer" bubble.

"Murders are usually carried out by people close to the victim: he and Touya already know each other, so the police will have no trouble finding connections"

"Why would they meet ?" Hawks asked. "What reason would they have to meet that would be important enough to force Touya to leave your house ?"

I crossed out our first names.

"An excellent reason..."

Involving a video Touya shot, a dead brother and an unmade 'payment'.

"But I insist, Hawks : better you don't know everything, in case you are asked questions with a Quirk suited for interrogation"

Hawks' cigarette remained on the edge of his lips.

He pulled it back.

"Why should anybody question me ? Why do you keep insisting that I know as little as possible ?"

I glanced at him briefly, then returned my attention to the diagram.

Pure surprise, not a shred of distrust.

"Because you're the one who's going to catch the murderer"

Hawks studied me silently.

He resumed smoking.

"I have the means to, let's say, convince our scapegoat that he really did kill Touya. He has a motive, a reason to get rid of him, but we're the ones who are going to commit the murder. What we have to do is get rid of the evidence so we don't get caught"

To the left of the 'murder' bubble, I wrote 'circumstantial evidence'.

"Most murderers get caught because of three things : DNA, crime concealment and post-crime"

I wrote 'DNA' in large letters.

"Whether it's hair, dead skin, a piece of fingernail, or saliva, we spend our time losing and sowing DNA everywhere we go. DNA is the surest way to prove you've committed a crime, so if you're not sure how to get rid of it, the smartest thing to do is to commit your crime in a public place that's likely to contain a lot of DNA from different people"

"Kind of like an amusement park or a shopping mall ?" said Hawks. "Might be difficult because I'm pretty sure we don't want anyone to spot me"

A detail I could have handled with a genjutsu without informing Hawks, although I would have had to convince him to kill someone in a public place, which would have been considerably more complicated.

"Let's also not forget that Touya certainly doesn't want to be seen in public because of all the controversy surrounding his 'resurrection': logic would dictate that he should meet his "friend" in a deserted, low-traffic, unoccupied space like an apartment or the roof of a building. Not to mention that I imagine certified heroes must have their DNA in a government's database or something ?"

I looked up at Hawks.

He hesitated for a second, then nodded.

Well, I wonder if All for One knows : they could create Nomus with the DNA of the top ten heroes if they searched hard enough.

Although I wasn't too keen on the idea of a mini-clone of my father trying to kill me.

"All they'd have to do is cross-reference the DNA out of habit and they'd find yours. It wouldn't be incriminating, given your profession, but it's a mistake we can't afford"

I wrote 'destroy the evidence' under the word 'DNA'.

"In fact, Touya will offer us the solution : he'll probably try to immolate you, and since he's not the type to do things delicately, he'll burn everything with him"

I wrote 'fire' next to 'destroy evidence'.

"He favors blue flames of which temperatures range between 1300 and 1600 degrees Celsius. The melting temperature of a building varies depending on the construction materials, the presence of safety devices such as fire doors or fire extinguishers, and other factors. I need to find out exactly which building we're targeting so we can study it in depth, but if it's quite old, we can pretty much assume that it doesn't meet current standards, and so the steel structure must be-

"Okay, calm down, Einstein, take a deep breath and explain this to me like I am five years old"

I blinked, looking up from the diagram I'd scribbled.

"Touya's going to melt the building, and since I'm pretty sure you don't want to end up as a statue in burning cement, you're going to have to face him on the roof of a building"

"Why not a street ?"

"Too much risk of collateral damage"

There were two reasons Hawks was willing to help me:

1 - He liked me

2 - Touya was a public safety threat

If I wanted to kill someone Hawks didn't think deserved to die, I was 95% sure he would have turned me in.

As long as we didn't hurt any 'innocent' people or involved them in our little affair, his conscience would be clear - and his loyalty would lie with me.

At least, his loyalty would lie with me until he realized what kind of game I'd really been playing.

Meh, that's the problem of future Shoto.

*

Author's note :

Again, sorry for the disgusting cut in the middle of the discussion but I wasn't able to do otherwise.

If you want to read ahead up to 27 chapters AND support the story, you can go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

See you in the next update everyone !

 

[Nar_cisse]

"Hmm"

He smoked thoughtfully.

"Since Touya's Quirk is very conspicuous and extremely famous, I estimate that - in the worst case - it will only take seven minutes for the next heroic patrol to arrive at the scene. Again, at best, Touya will have melted the entire building (which frankly would surprise me in such a short amount of time, but let's imagine), and at worst, he'll have made it hot enough to obliterate all DNA evidence and imprint the soles of your shoes in cement. By the way, what shoe size do you wear ?"

"Forty-three"

"Our scapegoat is a forty-six : I'll provide you with the appropriate shoes and outfit, which will include a pair of gloves and a hat"

As well as clothes purchased at a shopping mall outside the city, perfectly identical to those worn by our sloppy killer.

"I need a special sweater", he said "For my wings. You can only get that kind of clothing on demand"

I shook my head.

"You won't be able to use your wings. You'll have to get rid of all your feathers before you get to the roof"

Hawks was puzzled.

"How am I supposed to defend myself against a pyromaniac without using my Quirk ?"

"It's possible to extract DNA from ashes, Hawks. All it takes is one charred feather in the wrong place for all our careful planning to fall apart"

I said 'our' - even though I meant 'my' - to make him feel included in the planning process.

It wouldn't be good for me if he started having second thoughts and got the impression that I was treating him as an interchangeable variable.

Which he was.

Sort of.

"You won't have any trouble killing Touya, I promise"

Hawks leaned over and picked up a closed box of noodles.

"Just because I can't feel anything doesn't mean my body won't suddenly shut down if it takes too much damage"

He swallowed a mouthful of noodles, then shook his chopsticks to emphasize his point :

"And frankly, I've had enough of hospitals and rehab centers"

His tone was light, but I knew from the way he looked at me that this was non-negotiable.

"I've planned ahead", I said. When he sees you, he won't be able to do anything to you"

As if I would leave Hawks alone with Touya.

"Why ? You're going to drug him ?"

He swallowed another mouthful of noodles.

I didn't answer.

His eyes widened.

"Wait, are you serious ?"

He set the box down on the coffee table and leaned forward.

"Where did you get the drugs ?"

His tone wavered between concern and disapproval, between worried big brother and pissed big brother.

I shrugged.

"Let's just say I have a friend who has friends..."

I smiled and Hawks shook his head in disbelief.

"You know what ? I don't even want to know"

"He can't hurt you", I insisted. "By the time the product kicks in, he'll feel like he's looking at ten of you. He'll barely be able to use his Quirk"

Hawks gave me a sharp look.

"If you really thought he wouldn't be able to use his Quirk, you would have decided that our little 'meeting' would take place indoors, where no one could see us"

Touché.

"I plan the situation with the worst-case scenarios in mind", I said "I choose the roof to prevent the worst. Removing your feathers is also a way to avoid getting caught in the long run"

Hawks wasn't convinced.

I tried a new approach.

- "Your wings are more than only a Quirk : they're the trademark of a hero known throughout the country. If anyone sees the smallest red feather that morning, then..."

Hawks arched an eyebrow.

"Can't I just fly away ? No one should see me"

I shook my head.

"It only takes one person to look up at the wrong moment and it's all over"

Flying heroes weren't a common sight, especially winged ones.

Hawks picked up his cigarette left at the edge of a cardboard used as an ashtray.

"How have you planned my extraction, then ?"

I pushed my dissatisfaction with the haphazard explanation of my plan to the back of my mind.

"On a bike"

Hawks, stubbing out his cigarette, laughed softly, his eyebrows raised.

"Well, that's certainly not something you'd associate with the great Hawks, since he can't ride a bike"

It was my turn to be surprised.

"You don't know how to ride a bike ?"

'I'm a competitive swimmer but I can't get my legs to move properly to turn those little wheels"

He didn't seem embarrassed to admit such a shortcoming.

"Besides, the Commission didn't have the time or inclination to teach us trivial things like that, so..."

He shrugged casually.

"Even better", I said "If someone passes a guy on a bike, no one will be able to make the connection to you"

The murder would have to happen very early in the morning, when those who live during the night have gone home and those who live during the day haven't woken up yet.

A bicycle would be less suspicious and harder to trace than a car or a guy with wings.

"Problem is, I still don't know how to ride a bike"

I dismissed his remark with a wave of my hand.

"If you can use two limbs that the rest of the population doesn't have, then riding a bike isn't any more complicated"

Then, feeling his steady gaze, I added : "Okay, I'll just have to teach you, say, tomorrow morning ?"

Hawks took another cigarette from his pack to keep his hands busy, but I didn't miss the uncontrollable smile that lifted the corners of his mouth.

"If you want"

Way too much happy for someone helping me plan a murder.

I couldn't help smiling, feeling Hawk's good mood infect me.

"For your wings", I said "I insist you remove all of your feathers and come to the rendez-vous point without them. You can hide a few in a corner before Touya arrives, if it makes you feel better"

"If I didn't know for sure you wanted him killed, I'd almost believe that you want me dead", Hawks said sarcastically.

"He won't be able to fight. I guarantee you, even without your feathers, you'll have no trouble beating him"

Because I'll be there.

"By the way, what's the Quirk of the guy we're going to incriminate? Is it something he could use to attack someone ?"

"No, it's a computer thing"

If he had the drive, this guy could be the greatest hacker of all time.

Still, I found it odd that something as volatile and unpredictable as a Quirk could evolve to adapt to the human creation that are computers.

"Anyway, back to what I was saying earlier. DNA, crime cover-up, post-crime"

"Wait a minute," Hawks interrupted. "If I'm not supposed to use my Quirk and the guy I'm impersonating doesn't have an offensive one, how am I supposed to kill Touya ?"

I blinked.

"With a good old-fashioned knife"

Hawks blinked.

" ... For your sake, I hope he's so drugged that he won't be able to remember his first name..."

"Powerful Quirk or not, it only takes one stab to the throat and you'll never hear from him again"

People bled the same way, no matter what they'd done with their lives.

"Hmm"

"Getting back to what I was saying..."

I crossed out the word 'DNA' and then wrote 'crime cover-up' next to it.

"Most murderers get caught because they try to conceal the crime. They try to hide the body because they think 'no body, no crime' and they throw it rolled up in a bin bag in their car and they drive to a rubbish dump where they've never been and where the attendant will remember them because who seriously goes to a rubbish dump at two in the morning and-"

I met Hawk's gaze.

"...that is to say, most killers get caught because they're trying to conceal their crimes. What we have to do is hide any connection to the murder. We've already got our scapegoat and your method of escape. What we need to discuss now is the murder weapon"

- "I assume you're thinking of a weapon easy to conceal, not one that can be traced back to the seller by serial number and so on"

"Yes, but we also need something that wouldn't require any effort on our part to destroy"

"Such as ?"

"An ice stalactite"

I turned my right hand to the ceiling.

Immediately, a thirty centimetre long ice spike sprang from my hand, pointing skywards.

"When they do the autopsy, they'll only be able to conclude that it was a sharp object that killed him. All you have to do is leave it on the roof and the heat from Touya's flames will turn it into vapour"

"Who's to say the stalactite won't melt before I can use it ?"

"It all comes down to a moment of surprise : no one's asking you to confront Touya. All you have to do is stab him as soon as he arrives, when his back is turned. He'll be so stunned of bleeding to death, giving you enough time to leave the spike and run : by the time he attacks you with his flames, you should be out of danger"

"But will the stalactite be strong enough to pierce him ?"

The ice pick exploded in a shower of snowflakes.

"I'll make it myself," I said. "I only need to change the density to make it more than impervious"

The perfect murder weapon.

As soon as Touya sees it, he'll know who's behind his murder.

"And the computer guy? How will he get there ?"

"I'll take care of that", I said. "All you need to know is that two days from now, at 4:44 in the morning, you'll stab Touya to death in one of Tokyo's slums, then get on your bike and ride for almost three kilometres. You'll ride the bike while smoking, or - if you have to - you'll hold the handlebars with a lit cigarette, making people think you've gone out to buy cigarettes. You'll need a plastic bag in which you'll put your cigarettes (not your usual ones, the computer guy's). You'll then puncture the wheel of your bicycle near an old park in a deprived area, whose address I'll give you, and leave it abandoned among other rusty bicycles. It'll only be a matter of hours before someone comes along and steals the second wheel and saddle. As it's raining, you won't have to waste time cleaning the bike to remove your DNA. You'll walk quietly to a bus and take it until the train station"

Due to the storm, the station's surveillance system will mysteriously fail.

"Once there, you'll take off your clothes and put them in a backpack that I'll have left in the third stall of the women's toilets, the stall furthest from the door. You will go out dressed differently, with a mask and sunglasses of the 'celebrity who doesn't want to be recognised' kind. You'll go to a dog park three minutes away, and then you can discreetly ruffle your feathers and go home. By then, the our scapegoat covered in blood will have been spotted by the police patrol, or the nearest Hero"

Hawks was silent.

"It's... yeah"

He lit another cigarette.

"You've thought this through"

"I had - and still have - no intention of getting caught"

He didn't answer.

"You know, you can always quit"

It was an idle suggestion, one I hoped he wouldn't accept.

"How could I leave after such a beautiful presentation ?" He spread his arms, pointing to my plans, his living room, his entire apartment

He inhaled several puffs of smoke.

"Don't worry about me, kid. I may be a hero, but killing is hardly new to me"

He was calm and mischievous, as usual.

"This reminds me of a book I read a long time ago", he said. "It was about some students who had decided to kill one of their friends to cover up another murder. He was going to expose them, and since they didn't want to end up in prison..."

His sentence hung between us.

"I suppose killing someone as a group brought them closer together ?"

At least the fear of exposing each other would have kept them together.

"You'd think so, yes, but it only drove them apart"

Hawks continued to smoke thoughtfully.

"For our alibis" I said, "The most logical would be you at home alone, since that's where you spend most of your free time. You don't want to look suspicious if you're suddenly busy on the night of a murder, which is something you never do"

Things would be a lot easier for me.

"And for you ?"

I shrugged.

"My father always comes home very late. I'll stay up, pretending to have insomnia or something"

Because of Hawk's persistent gaze, I added:

"I had a lot of them when I was younger, and he'd always tell me to come and see him if I wasn't feeling well"

He exhaled a puff of smoke.

"Most parents would have told you to go back to bed"

"Most"

I reasoned that he let me wake him up even when he was exhausted from a day's work because he must have felt guilty about what I was going through at the time.

I looked up at Hawks : he was already looking at me.

"Come on, enough of this murder business. I started that series you recommended the other day and-"

I muted Hawks, heard him without listening, looked at him without really seeing him.

I burned all the paper on which I had drawn my crime.

Keigo was a good man.

I liked him in a different way to the way I liked my father and (sometimes) did Katsuki.

Sometimes he treated me more familiarly than I deserved, making me feel more like a cousin or brother than a student he'd been forced to look after because of his job.

Asking him to help me with Touya...

Making Touya disappear would have been an option, if only I had been sure that my father wouldn't try to hunt him down until his death. Discretion and secrecy wouldn't work with him.

Touya's killer had to be someone my father would be satisfied with ; he'd never be satisfied with the idea that someone as random as that junk computer guy had gotten lucky.

My father would want a real culprit, someone with a motive and the means to kill his son.

Hawks was not only my partner in crime, he was also the man I wanted to frame for Touya's murder.

*

NDA: * INSEE statistics on homicides committed in France between 2016 and 2020.

Author's note :

You think you're ready for the next arc ?

You're not.

Things are gonna get another level of crazy.

If you want to read ahead of schedule (and see for yourself what are the crazy stuff I've cooked) you can check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

And as always, see you in the next update everyone !

 

[Nar_cisse]

Someone stopped in front of me, casting a shadow over my face.

"You're Shoto Todoroki, right ?"

Sitting on the ground with my legs in a V-shape and my fingers touching the tip of my shoes, I slowly looked up at the one talking to me.

His silhouette was blurred, overshadowed by the sun beating down on him from behind, but not so much that I couldn't see him.

Black hair, big smile, hands on his hips.

Less than five feet tall, non-threatening posture, unknown Quirk.

"Yes", I said, slowly rising to my feet. "Do you need something ?"

Probably the new kid Katsuki told me about the other day.

His smile widened.

"You're just as stiff as the others said you were"

I kept stretching, quietly watching him out of the corner of my eye.

Another traitor sent by All for One ? Or a pawn of the Commission ? Someone sent to kill me ?

In the background I saw Katsuki lift his head from the water cooler, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes darting between the newbie and I.

I don't recognise his smell.

Tokoyami and Inaza, who had been chatting on the court in front of me, stared at us with wide eyes.

"Yuei is crazy" The newcomer said, running his hand through his hair and looking around. "I thought getting into the curriculum was the Holy Grail, but apparently there's an Elite section too"

To the far right, much further away, the original 1-A students were jogging along the stadium track to warm up.

Séro turned his head towards us; his eyes widened, he elbowed Kirishima in the ribs, and then pointed at us with his chin.

"You're supposed to be the best, aren't you ? Your training has been cut back and you spend all your time getting physically fit and working on your Quirks"

I didn't answer, instead I put my hands on the floor between my legs and lowered my torso to stretch.

I could feel his gaze on the back of my neck; my muscles braced for a roll or a leap or a shunshin or whatever move was fast enough to allow me to throw myself out of reach of any attack and slit his throat in one smooth gesture.

"Can you tell me what happened at the summer camp ?"

My nails scraped the floor.

I straightened and continued to warm up.

The new guy suddenly crouched down with his hands on his thighs and it took all my self-control not to hit him square in the jaw.

"You ask questions, but I still don't know who you are"

My voice was neutral, calm, far from betraying my inner turmoil.

"Me ? Ah, thought you knew. I'm Yo Shindo, from Ketsubutsu. Well, formerly of Ketsubutsu, I mean, since I'm in Yuei now. Did you know there was a new guy ?"

"Hmm"

He blinked.

"The others weren't wrong when they compared you to some kind of Antarctic"

He turned his head to the side - towards the gathered students in 1-A - and I took the opportunity to spy on him, sharingan on.

"Why are they looking at us like that ? Weird as fuck", he muttered.

Shindo raised a friendly hand and smiled at them : Séro raised a hesitant hand and smiled uncertainly, and Kirishima looked at Shindo and then at me as if I was going to jump down his throat.

"Really weird"

He turned his head in my direction.

"Are they always like that ?"

I shrugged, as if to say, 'I don't know, never talk to them".

"It's true then, the 'Antarctica' thing. Anyway, the summer camp. Did something happen ?"

"What makes you think so ?" I asked nonchalantly, busy warming up my ankle.

"I saw Yuei's championship, and even though it was a while ago, I'm pretty sure there were at least three or four other people there. There was this girl too, you know ? Invisible or something. I remember the horrified look on my mum's face when she realised she was walking around naked all the time and that was what amounted to her Qurik"

I didn't answer.

He just stared at me.

"You're the quiet type, aren't you ? That's only cool in the movies. In real life you just look weird"

Today is a good day, because it's the last day Touya will ever live ; killing a teenager with your bare hands here and now would be a stupid mistake and beneath us.

"You get what I mean ? I've barely spoken and you're already doing it again. You can put on that 'nothing can touch me' face all you like, but everyone knows it's full steam ahead in there"

Once you start, no one can stop you, and once you put your heart in it, you won't be able to stop yourself.

He sighed in despair.

"Yuei was sold to me as the deal of a life, but I swear you're all weird. Between the other kids who look like mourners, who are always muttering and shut up as soon as I arrive, and the one whose name you're not allowed to pronounce, who play the distant, megalomaniacal dude with a dark past..."

I stopped stretching, preferring to put my hands back and lean on them to look at Shindo, head tilted back, chin up, eyes narrowed.


"Your dad, on the other hand, is super cool, like really cool. Too bad his reputation has taken such a hit lately. Honestly, even if I'd been offered an internship with him, I'd have had to say no, because being associated with Endeavour is clearly a career killer at the moment"

I must have made a strange face - or something in my body language must have given me away - because before I could even give in to the temptation to stand up and shove his mouth down his throat, Katsuki and Kirishima were already there.

"Shindo, buddy, what's up ?"

Kirishima put his arm around the teenager's shoulders, who crossed his arms and looked irritated, but didn't push him away.

"We're friends now ?"

Kirishima's smile - already tense - faded.

"Yeah, it's true that we weren't very nice to you..."

Shindo rolled his eyes.

Katsuki stood next to me, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped, eyes narrowed.

"Did you want something ?"

Shindo glared at Katsuki.

"What ? Jealous that I'm talking to your girlfriend ?"

Katsuki frowned, opened his mouth and closed it again.

Kirishima looked increasingly worried, his nervous eyes darting between Katchan and I.

I smiled, my irritation fading, and decided to enjoy the show.

"Are you retarded or are you doing this on purpose ?"

Ah, now that's the Katchan I know.

- "Sorry" Shindo wheezed, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Your girlfriend is the little one with the big red cheeks, right ? You having a threesome or something ?"

I was on my feet before Katsuki had even finished clenching his fist, a hand on his shoulder more to hold him back than to calm him down.

Shindo blinked slowly, stupidly, his head taking so long to turn towards me that I could have snapped his neck three times.

"How-"

"You complain that no one is nice to you yet you spend your time making people hate the fuck out of you"

He looked at me in surprise, then suddenly smiled, losing his little bully persona.

"Ah, did you really take that badly ? Sorry, it's just that being the new kid and new encounters have never really been my thing. And frankly, you're all so tight-knit" He pressed his hands together "That it's hard to fit in without imposing. My dad always tells me that trying to get inside people's heads is never the answer, but I didn't know how to get you to stop treating me like a piece of furniture"

He scratched his hair, suddenly shy, his cheeks flushed.

Kirishima looked at him with big, wet eyes.

"Shindo..."

"You're all so different from the ones I saw at the championship... Anyway, I'm sorry if I was too harsh, I didn't mean to be"

I would be lying if I said I wasn't surprised by his sudden openness.

He turned to Katsuki.

- "Sorry for joking about your girlfriend, I didn't intend to be mean or anything like that. No hard feelings, eh ?"

Kirishima, his eyes as round as saucers, looked at Katchan.

I waited for him to scowl in disgust or reject the idea of going out with her - or even to punch Shinto just for having a punchable face.

"... yeah"

Hands back in his pockets, Katsuki turned on his heels and headed back to the water cooler.

He had still ignored the outstretched hand.

Shindo sighed.

"Universal truth that you should never talk about girlfriends..."

He shook his head in disappointment, then turned and walked back to the gathered 1-A students, who were still watching the exchange like the group of voyeurs they were.

Kirishima looked at Katsuki with round eyes, then blinked slowly at me, waiting for a reaction.

Despite everything that had happened, Kirishima never looked at me with concern or fear. Of course, that didn't mean that he wasn't nurturing any worry concerning me, but he never treated me any differently than anyone else.

He was a nice guy.

I liked him.

"... no comment"

He nodded and followed Shindo.

"Hey"

He stopped and turned to me.

"About what Shindo said about Katsuki... keep it to yourself, okay ? And make sure he doesn't spread it around"

Uraraka might have been a traitor of the highest order, Katsuki still seemed to... tolerate her.

Even though I wanted to get rid of her as soon as the All for One problem was solved, that didn't mean that I wanted to take away Katsuki's (despicable) happiness until it was necessary.

"So they really... ? Okay, no problem"

He walked away.

I followed Katsuki, who turned his head towards me, then slowed down so that I could catch up with him.

"You didn't have to interfere" I said.

Katsuki snorted.

"And maybe I should have watched you ram his head into the ground ?"

"I had no intention of ramming his head in the ground"

He clicked his tongue against his palate.

- "I don't know if you are aware of this, but I am neither a pacifist nor a patient person ; seeing someone even worse than myself in both areas is as fascinating as it is frightening. I only have to look at you to know when it's time to act"

I opened my mouth to retort, but nothing came out.

Wait, am I really worse than...?

Ok, maybe I wasn't Buddha reborn, but I could still be patient when I wanted to be - at least more than Katsuki.

Like when- when...

Nothing came.

Holy shit, I'm worse than Katsuki.

His face lit up as the realisation dawned on me, as if he could read my mind.

- "Wait, you really thought you were more patient than me ?

"I can be patient when I need to be" I defended myself.

"We've known each other for about six months and if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that you're the least patient guy in the world"

"I am patient," I stressed. "Supporting Hawks takes at least that much out of someone"

The number of times I'd dreamt of strangling him for blowing his smoke in my face without actually doing it had to earn me at least a place in record books for eternity.

- "...okay, that's pretty true, but you're still not a patient guy, and that's something I - the most impulsive guy in the world - have to tell you"

We continued bickering like old hags until I punched him in the shoulder, we decided to have a spar and I washed the floor with him.

He wasn't very happy.

But I'd still won.

*

Author's note :

Hope you're ready everyone, starting from chapter 163 we'll really get to the meat of the story - and it'll be the beginning of the end for Part 2.

I am very excited for us to get there.

Check the story's P@treon Nar_cisseENG if you want to read ahead and support the story.

And as always, see you in the next update everyone !

 

[Nar_cisse]

Kirishima came to a stop in front of the door.

He looked up and down the empty corridor to make sure that he was alone, and then he knocked three times.

The low murmur he could hear inside stopped. There were footsteps, then the door opened surreptitiously.

Through the half-open door, Kirishima saw half of Jiro's face.

The teenager opened the door wider.

"You're late"

Kirishima scratched his neck and stepped inside, Jiro gently closing the door behind him.

"Sorry, I was with Shindo" he said.

The students of 1-A were sitting on beanbags and armchairs - at least what was left of them.

Asui sat in the back, on a daisy-shaped stool, her feet close to her chest, her arms wrapped around her ankles. She still looked sullen, but she seemed much better than before.

Kirishima smiled at her.

Uraraka was sitting on the floor next to her, talking to her in a low voice ; she waved at Kirishima when she met his gaze.

Ojiro stood in front of the small bookshelf on the left, flipping through comic books.

Séro was slumped over, scrolling through his laptop, staring blankly, purple - almost black - circles under his eyes. He had been the closest to Kaminari, so even though they tried to shake him gently sometimes, everyone mostly left him alone.

Mezo sat at the foot of Kyoka's bed, his back against the wooden rail, his arms hanging over his knees, waiting patiently for their meeting to begin.

Sato, Tokoyami and Izuku sat in a circle on sofas around a small, low table, and played cards.

The room was small and cramped, but it was the largest of the two dormitories.

Because of her hypersensitivity to sound, Kyoka had asked for a room a little farther away so that she could rest without having to hear her classmates wandering around their rooms at all hours of the night.

She had been given the empty space under the communal showers, which served as a storage room and which Cementos had converted into a studio in just ten minutes.

The idea of turning it into their headquarters hadn't suddenly occurred to her.

It was just that one day Yaoyorozu had wanted to confide in Jiro at the same time that Séro had felt the need to talk to her about Kaminari, that Kirishima had had one of those nights when he couldn't sleep because of nightmares and had to go to someone, and that Asui - who also couldn't sleep - had bumped into him in the hallway after lights out, and that one thing led to another and they all ended up in Jiro's room talking to comfort each other.

At first, they sat on the cold floor with the lights off so that Aizawa or another teacher on duty wouldn't catch them.

It was Yaoyorozu who had provided all the sofas, furniture, and insulation for the door before leaving Yuei.

"We're all here" Jiro said.

There was silence.

The others turned to Kirishima, and those who hadn't seen him smiled or waved.

Jiro went and lay down on the bed, her hand supporting her head.

Kirishima wanted to sit next to Séro, but decided to leave him alone. He went and sat down on the carpet next to Mezo, shoulder to shoulder.

He began to pull at the threads of the carpet and looked down.

"I was with Shindo," he said. "I felt guilty because I think we excluded him too much and that made him feel uncomfortable"

"We can't tell him", Jiro muttered. "What are we supposed to do ?"

"I know," Kirishima said. "It's simply... We have to try, okay ? Imagine if we were in his shoes : he arrives in a place he doesn't know, with people who have already formed their cliques, and no one ever talks to him"

Aizawa had recently taken their small group aside, worried that the recent events had made them withdrawn and sectarian.

He had told them that it was bad for them to dwell on what had happened and that if they needed help, the school psychologist was available 24 hours a day.

No one wanted to talk to a psychiatrist.

The only one who had tried had been Yaoyorozu, and she had ended up leaving school.

Kirishima envied her for being able to leave without question ; he wished he could leave too and put it all behind, but he'd feel like a coward by abandoning his friends.

They were the only reason he stayed.

"We could" Séro said, his voice hoarse and dry, without looking up from his cell phone "have lunch with him tomorrow"

"Maybe even organize something", Izuku said. "Since it's Tuesday and we all get off early, we could have a movie night"

The idea seemed to be well received.

Then Mezo's voice, calm and sharp, broke the beginnings of cheerfulness.

"But it doesn't change anything : we'll still be talking to each other without saying anything to him, and that will continue to irritate him"

It was the same reason why no one had told Inaza about their little meetings.

Inaza was vehement and would get furious whenever anyone brought up Todoroki or the summer camp.

He wasn't mean, and everyone liked him, it was just that sometimes everyone only wanted to chat without necessarily having to get angry or argue.

Shindo, on the other hand, was trying to fit in where they had no right or desire to include him: recent events had indelibly bound them together in a way that was strikingly different from any other group of teenagers their age.

"It would be better if he left Yuei"

There was silence.

No one disagreed.

"Hey, do you remember Ashido ?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Kirishima saw Ochaco shift. He turned to her, thinking that she remembered as well, but it was Ojiro who asked :

"Who ?"

"A girl who was in our class at the beginning of the year. She must have spent about three days with us. She left Yuei after the incident at the USJ"

Kirishima thought he heard a mumbled 'lucky'.

"I remember her", Jiro said. "She had pink skin, didn't she ?"

"Yeah, she had some acid Quirk too"

The blue light from Sero's screen illuminated his face.

"No recollection"

"Why ?" asked Jiro. "Did something happen?"

"We went to school together... I mean, it's not like I knew her or anything, but just, I don't know, with everything that happened at the camp and the ban on talking to anyone about what we saw..."

He'd gotten back in touch with some of his old school friends, and no one knew where Ashido had gone.

He was probably exaggerating, but he had the feeling of being kept in the dark like Shindo.

"Yeah" Sato said. "This ban really sucks. I know it's for Yuei's sake and to avoid causing panic, but sometimes I wish I could talk to my parents about it"

Kirishima preferred to let the discussion drift.

- "Yeah, me too" Jiro said half-heartedly, pulling her blanket over her lap. "If only so they can tell me that it was an isolated incident, that this isn't the usual life of a Hero"

Then slowly, one by one, they opened up to each other, comforted by the thought that even though their situation was horrible, they weren't alone.

*
Bonus:

He was nice.

It hadn't taken him buying her a restaurant or drowning her in compliments for Ochaco to realize that.

Katsuki was friendly in a different way than most people.

She didn't need to be cajoled or treated like she was made of glass and Katsuki understood that perfectly.

He was gallant without being childish, attentive without being intrusive.

He asked her questions and listened attentively to her answers, nodding his chin gently as if everything that came out of Ochaco's mouth was gold.

He wasn't one for public affection - or affection at all - but he did take the time to make her math review sheets for subjects she found difficult to understand, even though he didn't need them himself.

Whenever she went downstairs for a snack and Katsuki was around, he always peeled an apple, which he pretended he didn't want at the last second and ended up forcefully putting in her hand because "You only like peeled apples anyway, right ? Eat this, I hate wasting stuff"

In the mornings, when everyone was in the kitchen and they didn't want to look suspicious when they greeted each other (something they never did even once since the beginning of the year), Katsuki always found a way to walk past her and brush his hand against hers without looking at her, murmuring a 'slept well ?"

She liked the way his face lit up when he talked about All Might or becoming a Hero. She found his slightly naive excitement every time Aizawa-sensei announced that they were going to practice adorable.

She liked him.

So she teased him.

"You're always so focused when you're eating : it's as if the food you're eating is the only thing that matters in the whole world..."

"Is that so ? Ah, that's because I often eat with Shoto and I don't want to make him feel uncomfortable when he's eating..." He met her gaze "Anyway, bad habit"

The discussion came to a halt.

Katsuki was surprisingly quiet when he was calm.

She tried to change the topic - she didn't like talking about Todoroki.

"Why... I mean, since when are you interested in me ?"

Katsuki stopped eating, head above his bowl.

This whole 'getting to know each other and spending time together' was new for her too.

Before him, no one had ever been really interested in her, so she'd always lived with the idea that she wasn't the kind of girl boys were interested in.

She had learned to live in the background, smiling through gritted teeth, her ego bruised, but telling herself that it didn't matter.

But maybe Katsuki thought she was pretty.

Nervously, she almost bit her nails, stopped her hand halfway to her mouth and forced herself to put it down on the table.

His blonde hair hid his forehead, but his cheeks were flushed, and she couldn't decide whether it was because due to the heat from the food or because she was intimidating him.

"Remember the championship ?"

He started playing with the stuffing in his noodles.

"I was in the stands when you faced Shoto. I remember the look on your face when the others told you that you could give up right from the start, laughing like it was a joke..."

Ochaco pursed his lips bitterly.

"Then you went down in the arena and dislocated your thumb just to win something you knew you'd lose anyway... I don't know, but I thought : a girl who's capable of doing that only to win... I don't know. I thought it was kind of cool"

Ochaco blinked, slightly moved.

Part of her was disappointed that he hadn't said he thought she was 'beautiful'. It was childish and silly, yes, but she wanted to be beautiful for someone.

But a major part of her was glad, because what he'd just said was more personal than a generic 'beautiful'.

She began to smile, hiding it behind the hand she was resting her cheek on.

He continued to play with his noodles, as if he didn't know what to do with his hands now that the big revelation was out there.

"So the great Katsuki Bakugo admires me ?"

He gave her a piercing look, slightly annoyed.

"I never said 'admire', don't put words in my mouth"

Ochaco's smile widened.

"Do you want to know how long I've been interested in you ?"

He gave her a sideways glance, then shrugged as if to say 'do what you want', but he didn't start eating again.

She almost told him that she'd found him unbearable at first. That she had been one of those who rolled her eyes in disdain every time he came into the classroom screaming.

Then there was the conflict with the kid from the other class, right before the championship.

She had thought that Todoroki was going to hit him.

Then Inaza had stepped in and Ochaco, at first relieved, had been very worried that the situation would get out of hand because Todoroki had really, really looked like he was about to commit murder

Then suddenly, Katsuki had stepped in, proudly siding with Todoroki when everyone else disapproved, pushing Inaza aside and lecturing everyone.

For the first time, Ochaco had listened to him - really listened.

Katsuki was a good person, the kind of person you wanted to have by your side.

She'd wondered what it would be like to have someone so loyal by her side.

Ochaco opened her mouth then closed it again.

She was confused about how to put it, didn't know exactly where to begin, stupidly realized that she'd actually liked him longer than he'd liked her (and that was a bit shameful) felt suddenly shy when he looked her straight in the eye, his red eyes scrutinizing her with terrifying intensity.

She said the first thing that came to her mind.

"Remember summer camp ? When you and the other boys jumped off the pier ? I really enjoyed watching you run around with your shirt off"

Ochaco had absolutey no idea where this audacity had come from.

Too far gone in her stupidity, she preferred to save face by looking him straight in the eye, face blank.

Katsuki blinked three times in a row, speechless.

Then he put his hand to his face to hide his expression, his ears flushed to the tips.

"Shit..."

Ochaco burst out laughing.

She really, really liked him.

*

Author's note :

If you want to read ahead of schedule up to 27 chapters, you can go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

See you in the next update everyone !

 

[Eggmaster]

Getting tge perspective of ochako was cool and the section withe the poor 1-A kids was great too

 

[Nar_cisse]

NDA: The following chapters have been structured in a countdown manner – this is not an indication of what time it is

*

-10h58

Dabi stared blankly at his screen, not really looking at it.

His heart pounded in his ears, amplifying the sound of his own breathing to the point where he almost felt like he was drowning in open air.

It was 3:42 p.m., and under one of the few comments on the swim lesson video was another that Dabi couldn't explain.

Compromise.

Dabi methodically refreshed the page, swating, paralyzed by a sudden wave of anxiety.

If this had been Shoto's doing, Dabi's throat would have been slit and he'd ended in a gutter by now.

'Compromise'...

There must have been something wrong with the video, or maybe someone had found one of the copies. Either way, Dabi couldn't stand by and do nothing.

If someone decided to use it before Dabi to blackmail Shoto, then-

The new comment was gone.

Dabi ran his tongue over his teeth.

He refreshed the page six times in a row. Nothing.

He exhaled heavily, straightened up from his hunched position over the computer, then leaned his back against the cushions.

Sitting cross-legged, the PC on his knees, Dabi rubbed his damp palms against the thighs of his jeans, his eyes automatically going to the two men at the entrance to the living room, sitting in a chair, silent as graves, watching him with folded hands.

One of them had a book, which he wasn't reading, folded in the back pocket of his pants.

Dabi had tried to make conversation at the beginning of his house arrest, but neither of them had responded. They were like stone, cold and impersonal.

Could it have been the crazy witch who acted as their grandmother ?

No ; if it had been, Enji would have known and sent Dabi to prison long ago for trying to blackmail his beloved son by threatening his father's career.

Mechanically, Dabi kept refreshing the page.

His mind went over all the potential people who might still hold a grudge against him now that he'd left the Vilains's world.

Well, sort of.

When you'd done the kind of things he'd done, it was impossible to really leave that milieu.

He had to think more recent, more personal.

Who would be interested in using this video against Dabi now ?

Himiko ? Shigaraki ?

Shigaraki was in prison, in Tartarus, as Enji had told him.

If All for One had wanted to get him out, they would have done it months ago - the news of the breach of the most secure prison in the world would have been all over the media.

So Himiko.

But Himiko wasn't the thoughtful type.

Had she been free, she would have done everything in her power to find Dabi and slit his throat as brutally as possible. There would have been no missing video - she wouldn't have given Dabi time to prepare for an ambush.

If All for One is helping her...

All for One wouldn't help if it wasn't in his best interest to do so.

If he had wanted to kill Dabi, he would have opened a portal in the middle of his room and killed him before Dabi could blink.

The fact that he was still alive proved that All for One didn't care about 'avenging' Shigaraki or Dabi's betrayal.

Could it really be called treason ? Dabi hadn't pledged allegiance to anyone, he hadn't worked exclusively for the League, he had never sworn loyalty to All for One.

If you omitted Enji, his son, the crazy old witch, Himiko, Shigaraki - and therefore All for One - then that could only mean one thing : outside interference.

But who-

His gaze was drawn back to the screen.

Below his own comments, an address appeared.

Tokyo, tonight, 4:44 a.m.

Three minutes later, the message disappeared.

*
- 01h22

Standing in his office, Hawks watched nighttime Tokyo without actually seeing the city.

The red and yellow lights of cars and neon signs flashed before his eyes as if they had been accelerated, streaks of light crossing the streets, avenues, and boulevards as if he were in the middle of a fireworks display turned fire.

He liked his life, sometimes.

Granted, he was stuck in his job until he died, and yes, maybe he wasn't allowed to leave the country without permission from the Commission, but it wasn't all bad.

He got paid well and the food wasn't too bad.

And... and... the food really wasn't bad.

He finished his thirteenth cigarette, tossed it into his trash can, then lit the next one mechanically.

He'd told Shoto that he'd like to live long enough to get a serious case of lung cancer, and he meant it.

Having such a trivial problem almost turned him on, he who had always lived on the edge of society, outside of the real world and its tangibility.
Shit, even having trouble paying his bills seemed like the height of excitement.

He could already see himself, socks full of holes and shoes worn out, mittens on his hands and fingers numb from the cold, running from one shop to another with a stack of resumes under his elbow, asking to see a manager, trying to convince him to hire him for a little while, just a little while, just a few hours, so that he would have enough to pay the water bill or his daughter's school lunch…

People would look at him with pity and concern as he pleaded his case, listen patiently when they knew they really had nothing to offer him, watch him go back out into the bitter cold, and think about him in their beds at night, wondering if he'd managed to find what he was looking for and really hoping he had.

He would be admired, regarded as a martyr of sorts.

People would look at him - really look at him - and see Keigo, not Hawks, mereley another man doing his best with the cards life had dealt him, just like everyone else.

Life would be hard, but he'd be happy as long as he had his little brother with him.

This Keigo had no wings, but he was the freest version of himself he could imagine.

Hawks exhaled a puff of smoke.

Dying didn't frighten him, it was just that the idea of nothingness - an infinite nothing - that bored him as if he was already there.

He'd have no problem surviving in prison as long as it wasn't Tartarus - the Commission had done way more than merely teaching them how to use their Quirks.

Being booed and treated like an outcast, on the other hand...

Hawks had a lot of respect for Endeavor : the fact that he had carried on as a Hero with dignity, despite the way people treated him because of his sons...

Really, no one could have blamed him if he had retired.

Hawks, on the other hand, didn't know if he could stand to work knowing that people hated him.

They may not have known him, but Hawks was still a facet - however misleading - of Keigo, and the only thing that made Keigo truly exist in the eyes of the world.

Hawks had no friends, no family, no one to wait for him when he went home at night.

He couldn't bear to be hated by the whole world.

It would kill him.

Hawks blinked.

He absentmindedly noticed that his cigarette had burned down to the butt without him smoking it, and that he had his cell phone -his second cell phone -in his hand.

It was three in the morning.

Hawks should have been in bed, or at least barely opening his eyes, wondering, exhausted, what time it was.

Hawks trusted Shoto - the kid must have spent hours preparing and refining his plan to get something as qualitative as he did.

He seemed to know what he was doing, to have thought through every possible scenario.

But it was Hawks who was going to kill Touya, not him. If he had made the slightest miscalculation, made the smallest oversight...

Hawks knew people who would clean it up in an hour, leaving no trace.

If it went wrong...

His finger hovered over his screen.

Hawk hesitated.

He had no intention of backing down or turning the kid in.

It was just a backup in case something went wrong.

Hawk tapped his keyboard briefly, then sent the text without giving himself time to regret what he was doing.

He put the cell phone back in his pocket, looked up at the city, and finished his cigarette in silence.

It was time to get ready.

Tonight he would kill a man.

*

- 00h56

There was something satisfying about spending an entire day training your men in a variety of manoeuvres and deployment formations, and watching them succeed with little help.

It was different from training civilians - Vilains included - and much more exhilarating.

He stepped out of the shower and leaned against a metal bar built into the wall to help him move around his apartments.

Anyone else would have felt their ego bruised to find themselves in this position.

"Sir"

He paused at the edge of his bed, his satin bathrobe rubbing against his knees.

"There was a call from Japan"

He reached for the phone : the receiver floated from the soldier's hand to his own.

The receiver crackled ; he waited for the sound to steady before putting it to his ear.

"I've just been informed-"

The voice died and all sound at the other end of the line stopped.

It was as if he'd put his hand over the microphone to prevent anyone on his end from hearing him.

"I've just been informed," the voice whispered. "That the boy and his mentor are going to kill your former employee tonight"

No names were mentioned ; he was afraid someone might be listening.

"The target ?"

"Alone and unsecured on the other side of town. The mole is with him"

"All Might ?"

"I can have him called up North of the country on urgent business, maybe wake up a Nomu or two and have him rushed there - he won't be in Tokyo"

"Endeavor ?"

The caller hesitated.

"He's at home, resting. I don't know how to get him away from the epicentre"

All for One was not a man to make the same mistake twice.

He hadn't expected chance to hand him his target on a platter, rather he'd spent the last few months drilling his soldiers on all the scenarios they'd face once they went after him.

All for One had thought he would have to create the perfect opportunity, waiting for the rat to turn his head elsewhere so he could seize his chance.

But fate had handed him a golden opportunity on a silver platter.

He wouldn't let it pass.

"Find me Endeavor's number"

*

A/N : Gonna stop making interventions to let you fully enjoy the next arc.

If you want to read ahead of schedule AND support the story, then go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

 

[Nar_cisse]

- 03h33

The hours ticked by like minutes, the minutes like seconds, and all I had to do was blink and the whole night passed as if I weren't anchored in this reality, as if time had no influence on me.

- 02h44

The living room was plunged into darkness, the furniture gave the impression of being made of shadows, the deafening silence of the sleeping house gave an unreal aspect to my waiting, as if I were suspended above a void, in an unreachable and unalterable slice of existence.

I sat motionless on the sofa, my hands on my knees, staring straight ahead, my eyes so wide open that they stung.

- 02h12

Beyond the bay window, far into the woods, an owl dropped from its perch and swooped down on a squirrel. Its claws closed like a crane on the rough fur, its wings straightened and it swooped down on another tree.

The squirrel's cry, muffled and barely audible, accompanied me as I walked up and down the living room, uneasy, a broth of worry and anxiety purring like a torrent in my ears, preventing me from listening to my own thoughts.

I felt I had to be calm, so I stayed calm.

- 01h48

No one had seen me come home.

Neither Rei nor her children.

Touya had left the house a long time ago ; I'd helped him to ensure that no one noticed he was gone.

If my father didn't return in time then my perfectly constructed alibi, meticulously put together alibi, would be rendered obsolete.

The more time passed, the less I could control my anxiety.

- 01h16

Where the hell is he ?

The furniture was silent, the house still, but my ears were ringing as if there were more than one of us.

He's guessed what you're up to.

Impossible, my plan was flawless.

He knows what you're going to do.

How could he ? No one knew but Hawks and Hawks-

Hawks told him.

Hawks wanted Touya dead at least as much as I did.

Hawks has realised what a game you're playing and he's trying to double-cross you.

I paused in front of the kitchen island, gripping the edge of the cold marble to remind myself that I was really there, alive and well, firmly anchored in this reality, and that the voice-

You'll get your one-way ticket to Tartarus.

If Hawks had betrayed me, I'd ripp his wings off with my own hands.

He's laughing at you. They're all laughing at you. Touya is with Hawks and they are laughing togeth-

I closed my eyes so tightly my eyelids hurt.

The buzzing in my head grew in intensity and volume, rumbling and sizzling until I felt I could hear it outside my body, in the hollow of my ear, whispering and whispering in its treacherous voice.

"Because for all your rhetoric and all your genius plans, you can't kill him"

He's going to die tonight.

"Will he ?"

I've planned everything.

"You planned to strangle him the first time, drown him the second time, and look : he's still alive"

The first time I was-

"Pathetic"

This time Hawks will-

"Can he do it ? I mean, if we assume that he hasn't turned you in and he's not going to-"

I'll kill him.

"Like you were supposed to kill Touya ?"

"Shut the fuck up"

The rumbling subsided, my vision cleared, and suddenly the veil covering my ears lifted and I'd moved away from the kitchen.

I'd gripped the coffee table without realising it, the metal surrounding the glass shaking under my fingers like a beam about to give way.

Veins bulged beneath the skin of my hands and forearms, so thick and prominent that I wondered if they might explode in my next burst of rage.

"You're terrified, Shoto"

I whispered.

"Because if he manages to survive, it means you have no control"

I am in control of my life.

"That means all the tears you've shed, all the blood you've spilled, all the suffering you've endured was in vain"

With my hands still on the table and my eyes fixed on my bare feet, I swayed frantically, trying to calm my growing terror.

"It means that no matter how hard you try to change things, nothing will ever really change"

I have control-

"It means that if dad is fated to die because of Touya, there's nothing you can do-"

"Shoto ?"

-00h58

I raised my head sharply, my sticky hair clinging to my face, my fingers still gripping the metal bars where my fingerprints were imprinted.

"I thought I heard a voice different from yours, is there… are you alright ?"

It's not in my head.

The curtain of paranoid smoke fell back, the wisps floating like mist around the periphery of my vision.

He was standing at the entrance to the living room, one hand on the light switch.

I squinted as my vision adjusted, black spots dancing in my vision.

Even though his voice came from outside, I had my doubts and wondered for a moment if it wasn't another hallucination.

"Shouldn't you be at school ?"

I cleared my throat and almost stood up, but decided to stay seated so he wouldn't see my shaking knees.

You're going completely mad.

"I wanted to go home", I said, "I asked Hawks to make up an excuse so they'd let me go"

You're losing your mind.

"I wanted to go home," I said, "I asked Hawks to make up an excuse so they'd let me go"

There's something serously wrong with you.

"What about you ?"

You're going to end up dead and the only person you can blame is yourself.

"What are you doing all alone in the dark ?"

His eyebrows were furrowed.

I shrugged.

"Couldn't sleep"

He massaged his nose with one hand, exhausted, his eyes swollen with fatigue as if he was going to collapse any second, then he sighed.

"Come here"

He motioned for me to follow him to the veranda, where he sat down on the edge of the terrace, his feet on the crackling frozen lawn.

I let myself fall beside him, my knee knocking against his.

The night was cold, the sky dark.

The white lawn, covered in frost, gave the place an unreal aspect, as if we were in a realm that things and people could only reach once they were dead.

Dad took off his shoes, then his socks, and put his feet on the grass as if to cool off.

Then he slowly bent down and began to rub his feet.

His expression relaxed as he worked on them.

"Blisters ?", I asked.

"A beginning of arthritis," he said. "It used to be limited to my feet but now it's going up my legs"

I gave him a sideways glance.

"You're not old enough to have this kind of thing"

He laughed softly.

"I am old. Every day that passes brings me closer to the end. When I'm dead-"

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth and jerked his hands away from his feet, silencing him and forcing him to sit up.

"Stop saying things like that"

I hated the way he said it, like his death was something I couldn't prevent, like it was an inevitability I just had to get used to.

I crouched down in front of him, my hands hovering above his ankles, a genjutsu shrouding us from the outside world.

"It's not very nice of you to bully your old, frail and sick father"

"I'm not bullying anyone"

A green light burst from my palms, casting shadowed blades of grass on his legs as I soothed his pain.

I looked up at him, observing his curious expression as he watched me.

"Is that better ?"

"Hmmm"

I could have stopped once the pain had subsided, but I preferred to carry on, healing micro-cracks, bruises and a whole range of other things he could avoid if he finally retired.

"We could go and live in Italy like you suggested," I said without looking at him, the light shining on my face. "You'd retire, I'd leave Yuei, and we'd stop Grandma from becoming dictator of Europe"

He scoffed, but I saw the shadow of a smile on his lips.

"You love your grandmother because you seldom see her, but believe me, Teka is anything but easy to get along with"

I shrugged.

"She's funny"

"Moody," he said sarcastically.

"She'd kill you if she could hear you"

"I'm too old to be afraid of my mother"

I wondered how anyone could ever get old enough to stop being afraid of Teka Todoroki.

That old witch would bury us all, I'd bet my life on it.

"I know you, Shoto," he said, all traces of amusement gone from his tone. "You're conscientious and methodical. If you - or rather we, because I know you wouldn't leave without me - are still in Japan despite all the revelations of the last few months, it's because you think you're capable of dealing with absolutely anything that might happen"

I concentrated a bit longer to deal with a micro crack in his left knee.

"Don't you think that's weird ?", I said 'When I was a kid, there were all these people and organizations that wanted me just because of you, and now..."

It was a miracle that no one killed me while I was recovering from draining all of my chakra.

I thought it was because my father and All Might were in the hospital - they'd literally taken up residence there while things calmed down - but I expected assassination attempts to start as soon as I got out.

"I don't know" I said. "But everything is too still"

Too easy, too quiet.

I felt like everything was about to blow up in my face.

"You've always been too anxious, Shoto. You know, a normal life isn't about feeling bad when things are going too well and wondering when things are going to go wrong. You're too used to things being complicated. You told me you were working on a big project, right ? So finish it while you've got time, and don't bother trying to figure out the whys and wherefores. Enjoy the reprieve while it lasts ; we'll deal with the problems later"

He's probably right.

Things were getting a little weird in my head lately, and I was always either very anxious or so calm that I felt like I was losing touch with my own emotions. I chalked it up to tiredness.

But it was nice to talk to him. I always felt much better afterwards.

I felt a sudden surge of affection for him.

"I like you, you know"

He looked at me, stunned.

Then he burst out laughing.

"I hope you do like me, indeed"

I was supposed to distract him, he was supposed to give me my alibi, but in the end I was the one who was distracted and lost track of time.

I was glad to see him laughing like that : I had the impression he was smiling less nowadays.

"You'd think that-"

-00h49

His cell phone vibrated.

He pulled it mechanically from his pocket, the bluish screen lighting up his face.

"...I deserve better than some 'I like you', but-"

He fell silent, his face turning pale so quickly that even his lips went white.

"Dad ?"

Breathless, eyes haggard, he sprang to his feet and ran back in the house.

*
A/N : If you want to read ahead of schedule up to 27 chapters, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

 

[Nar_cisse]

Hawks arrived at the crime scene on his bicycle.

He was wearing oversized trousers, shoes so long they looked like those of a clown's, and a large, smelly enamel jacket that he would never have touched under normal circumstances.

The dirty hood covering his hair and fell over his forehead, engulfing him in an unbreathable bubble of toxic poison.

He didn't push it back because that was part of the persona Shoto had created - a man capable of fetching cigarettes at 4 a.m. on a Tuesday - and he trusted him.

Hawks looked at the sky.

Black clouds, heavy and low, were gathering over Tokyo, obscuring the tops of the city's tallest towers, giving the impression of choking in the open air.

He found Shoto's ability to control the weather astonishing.

Had he been born in another era, people would have hailed him as a god.

Hawks focused on the road again, whistling.

Whistling wasn't his style, but it was certainly the sort of thing a man addicted to cigarettes would do. Or at least more addicted than Hawks was.

He whistled badly, though, stopping intermittently when he had to turn at a junction that was too dry or when the road became unstable to focus.

His fingers gripped the handlebars tightly, the plastic squeaking under the sudden, violent pressure.

It was ironic that one of the only men in the world capable of flying should be terrified of falling off his bike.

He smiled as he remembered the evening he'd spent with Shoto trying to teach him how to ride one.

The teenager had nearly pulled his hair out when Hawks had asked him for the twelfth time how to put his feet on the pedals.

Keigo laughed.

He wondered what Shoto's face would be like when he found out he didn't know how to drive.

Hawks turned right into a jagged residential street.

Wide, grey houses, without roofs or sometimes devoid of whole walls to enclose them, stretched along both sides of the road.

In some places the pavement disappeared altogether, replaced by stony bumps or holes in the ground that screamed 'building site under construction'.

The half-built garages were empty, the lawns so unkempt that the grass looked like vines and the backyards like jungles.

There were no bins, no 'work in progress' signs, no one but rats and cats.

The area had the appearance of a ghost town or a post-apocalyptic world.

Tokyo, like other Japanese cities, was dying.

To a lesser extent than elsewhere, but the capital was nonetheless being eaten away by this evil that was slowly devouring the world.

The dawn of Quirks - as well as bringing its fair share of wars - made humans less fertile and more sterile, so much that having children before the age of thirty was an increasing rarity.

Not for the first time, Hawks wondered if the arrival of Quirk had really been a boon for humanity or if it had been a slow and inexorable condemnation to extinction.

He turned right almost instinctively : Shoto had made him memorize his route so well he could have made the journey eyes closed.

His jacket billowed in the cold wind and rattled against his thighs.

His switched-off mobile phone weighed heavily on his thigh, but he knew it wouldn't stop the Commission from finding him if necessary.

At the end of the new street loomed the building he was supposed to get to.

It was a simple structure, only three floors of bare cement, without plaster or any other covering.

The roof was flat and easily accessible : Shoto had explained to him that the developer had wanted to turn it into a garden for the building's inhabitants, to make it more appealing than the surrounding houses.

The height also made it impossible to see what was going on from the surrounding streets.

Hawks changed streets, parked his bike two houses down behind a low wall and walked back to the main road, hands in his pockets.

He paused for a moment in front of the grey behemoth.

The building stood out like a tombstone against the dark sky. The clouds rumbled and rolled in, heralding the arrival of a storm.

A drop of water caught the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheekbone like a tear. He wiped it away with the tip of his thumb, his gaze riveted on the demonic place.

This was the kind of place where people died en masse.

He climbed the stairs slowly, his fingers reaching mechanically for the ice stalactite in the knife scabbard that hung from his waist, as if to reassure himself.

He paused at the entrance to the roof, the door slamming shut with a thud.

His eyes swept over the empty, dirty roof.

The stairs were the only way out.

Hawks climbed over the stairwell and lay down on it, his dark eyes fixed on the door below him, the stalactite clutched in his gloved hand.

Then he waited.

*

The house was silent.

Dabi knew that the old witch's third dog - the one who only watched over him at night, when the other two were asleep - was sitting on a chair outside his door, eyes closed as if he were resting, but not asleep.

Dabi didn't know what kind of Quirk he had, but it must have enabled him to locate people with ease.

Dabi - who hadn't slept all night - got up quietly.

He made his bed properly, arranged the sheets, shook out the pillow and pulled up the blanket so that the bed was neatly made.

Satisfied with his work, he moved on to the second step.

His satin pyjamas were neatly folded and left at the end of the bed.

His fingers caressed the silky surface, his fingernail scratching the button of his shirt.

These were the first clothes he'd worn in years that didn't irritate his skin - at least the shreds of skin he had left.

They were too good for him anyway.

He went to the closet and retrieved his cleaned and ironed old clothes.

They were still in the dry-cleaning bag.

Dabi pulled out his leather coat.

The smell of blood and sweat - so strong that even Dabi could smell it - was replaced by utter blankness.

He had earned the right to wear this jacket by shedding blood and sweat ; now holding it in his hands made him feel like a stranger in front of the relic of a life he had loved.

He put on the T-shirt - replaced because it was too damaged - then the trousers. The urge to scratch his legs as soon as he put them on was comforting.

He opened the box containing his shoes.

Ugly, too clean.

The laces - their ends a reddish brown from soaking in blood - had been replaced.

His worn-out boots had been polished to look as good as new.

He figured he'd have to dull their shine by stepping in a puddle or mud, because that kind of shine was the kind that would make him a beacon in the night and, for sure, get him killed.

Putting them on gave him a strange feeling, as if he was turning back into someone he hadn't been for a long time. He felt good, like he was home again.

Or almost.

His Swiss pocket knife and brass knuckles were gone.

People always believed that villains - or heroes - spent their days spamming their Quirks. No one had the stamina for that, least of them all Dabi.

If he had to fight in public for some reason, he'd better not draw attention to himself by creating a geyser of blue flames or some such nonsense.

He could really end up in jail this time.

Dabi faced the closed door of his room, rolled his shoulders and then his neck.

He took a few seconds to stretch his numb legs, jumping a few times to get the blood flow to his thighs.

Idleness was fun for a bit, but Dabi had always been a man of action.

He inhaled slowly through his nose and exhaled to quell the adrenaline that raised the hairs on the back of his neck and sent a wave of shivers through his shoulders.

Then he ran to the door, opened it with a jerk and pounced on his warden.

The man, slumped in his chair, barely had time to look up from his book.

His eyes widened and his lips parted in alarm.

Dabi struck his throat sharply.

The man fell to his knees on the floor, both hands on his throat, his face flushed violently, while his eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of their sockets.

The book on the arm of the seat fell to the floor.

Dabi almost kicked him in the head out of habit - if you aimed right, you could kill - but he then remembered he wasn't there for that.

Instead he slipped behind the man, put his right arm around his neck and grabbed his left bicep with his right hand, which was perpendicular to the guard's head.

Then he squeezed.

Within seconds the choked man stopped struggling.

Dabi counted fifteen more.

There was still no sound in the house.

Slowly, he released the man. His limp body collapsed against him.

Dabi straightened up, picked the man up and laid him on the chair, arms crossed, book open on one thigh, cheek against shoulder, as if he'd fallen asleep.

He waited a few seconds, checking the barely lit corridor.

Nothing.

Then he shut his bedroom's door softly and went downstairs to the kitchen.

He rummaged through the drawers, picked up a small knife whose absence would not be noticed, put it in his pocket and left the house.

He took took a shady path through the forest surrounding their house, the one in the camera's blind spot, the same one he'd used to escape eleven years ago, limping and bleeding like a wounded dog.

*

He kicked open the door.

It slammed against the wall with a deafening noise.

Dabi glanced around.

The clouds were of a black almost grey, the area was half shrouded in darkness. The sun was about to rise.

The roof was empty.

Dabi took one slow step, crossed the threshold, then a second and stopped.

Apart from the cubicle of the stairwell, there was nothing.

A cold breeze raised the hair on the back of his neck.

Wide-eyed, Dabi turned to the side, his arm instinctively raised to protect his face.

Two vertically yellow slited eyes appeared under a hood above him, as if the man were falling from the sky.

Dabi saw the ice spike glint in the darkness, the faint light of day shining down on it, lending it the appearance of a knife's blade.

Dabi stumbled to his feet, a burst of flame erupting from his shoulders and elbows to ward off the man.

The assailant, his speed-swollen jacket billowing around him, had sharp, determined eyes, the rest of his face lost in the darkness.

He didn't even blink as the flames licked at his skin.

A geyser of fire erupted from Dabi's skin as the ice stalactite sank into his flesh.

Hawks, the soles of his feet barely touching the ground, threw himself backwards.

A sudden pillar of blue flame shot ten meters high in the air, illuminating the whole neighbourhood for half a second.

Then, abruptly, the flames died out.

Hawks landed heavily on the ground, his feet screeching against the floor.

A cloud of steam covered the middle of the roof, preventing him from seeing what was happening on the other side.

He opened and closed his left hand - the one that had held the stalactite - to test its mobility, his eyes staring straight ahead.

He couldn't feel it, but he knew his palm had just been scalded.

The cloud hung in the air.

Hawks waited, breathless, legs bent.

One of the two feathers previously hidden behind one of the roof's edges flew to his hand.

Lightning crackled far away.

Then a white flash streaked across the sky and Hawks saw as if it were daylight.

At the other end of the roof, a hand against the junction of his neck and shoulder, stood Dabi, his wide blue eyes a stark contrast to his darkened silhouette.

"An ice stalactite, eh ?"

Another bolt of lightning ripped through the sky.

In the brief interval of light, Hawks caught the image of Dabi pulling out what was left of the melted ice pick.

Blood spurted from the hole in his shoulder as he pulled it out, splattering his cheek, his jacket and the ground.

Everything went black again.

"I should have guessed you'd make friends..."

Hawks remained motionless.

As much as Shoto had repeatedly assured Hawks that he'd get through everything easily, Hawks had only said 'okay' to satisfy him.

Dabi was the kind of cockroach you didn't just kill with an elaborate plan, drugs involved or not.

Hawks remembered all his feathers scattered around the city, all the ones Shoto had - justifiably - told him not to bring.

He had every intention of killing Touya, but he had no intention of dying with him today.

"Do you know what the worst part is ?"

The sky rumbled. Another bolt of lightning.

A white flash illuminated the roof.

Dabi, his shoulder pissing blood, smiled, his lips curling up intil it ate three-quarters of his face in perverse glee. His eyes were dull, dead, scrutinising Hawks malevolently.

00h00

"The kid's using you and you're too stupid to notice"

The two men glared at each other.

Then they threw themselves at each other.
*
A/N : If you want to read of schedule AND support the story, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

 

[Nar_cisse]

Ochaco's foot slipped on a crushed can: Aizawa grabbed her elbow and yanked her up.

There was no time to thank him ; Ochaco ran and caught up with Neito in front of her.

"Uraraka !"

She activated her Quirk.

"Understood"

Her hand grazed three metal garbage cans filled to the brim.

Aizawa's ribbons wrapped around the dumpsters : without slowing his run, the hero spun and hurled them like cannonballs at the three men in pursuit.

Visibility was poor - daylight was just breaking - but he saw them throw themselves aside.

Aizawa caught up with his students and ran between them : Ochaco was sweating, but in good shape. Neito, on the other hand, was pale, beads of sweat gathering on his upper lip.

"How are you holding up ?" asked Aizawa, one eye fixed on the rooftops where he thought he saw a shadow pass by.

The blonde nodded, his gaze steady but his hands shaking.

The part of Aizawa that was too used to working as a teacher had almost reprimanded him for keeping the Quirk of one of his comrades without (as he was quite sure) asking permission.

But the part of Aizawa that was glad to be alive thanked him for his deceit : without him, they'd be dead.

A crossroads divided the alley into two.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aizawa noticed something metallic in the street to his right.

"Right !" he shouted.

The teenagers turned sharply right.

Aizawa caught them both under his arms.

"Ura-"

She had already lightened their weights.

One of his white stripes wrapped around a lamppost like a tongue.

Aizawa lunged, his hands gripping the teenagers so tightly that he must have hurt them. Their feet left the ground and they swung into the left street.

Aizawa heard the deafening sound of bullets fired.

He buried his head in his shoulders, his nose buried in the hair of the two children.

A window exploded above their heads, shards of glass raining down on them.

"Eyes !"

He closed his eyes tightly, hoping the teenagers had done the same without thinking.

Hard, stinging shards fell on his hair and shoulders as they continued to sway blindly.

There was a loud thud, then Aizawa was riddled with tiny projectiles that felt like pebbles or gravel.

One of them hit his jaw so hard that his teeth snapped shut on his tongue.

Aizawa stifled a flinch of pain as his blood spurted in his mouth, shook his head to clear the shards away, and slightly opened one eye to see where they were going.

They were in a cloud of greyish smoke that practically cloaked everything.

His brain screamed Quirk, but his nose said limestone.

They had to get out of the cloud if Aizawa was to find out where they were going and-

Suddenly, like a mountain bursting out of fog, the lit streetlamp he had hung his tape to appeared.

Aizawa cut the ribbon with a sharp bite of his teeth to prevent them from hitting the wall.

Simultaneously, the lamp exploded.

The remains of the bulb sizzled, then arcs of yellow light shot out from the inside towards the metal part of the pole, running over it as if the electricity were trying to escape to the ground.

Aizawa's hair stood on end. He twisted his shoulders, trying to dodge the yellow arcs, but holding on to the other two prevented him from moving properly.

He was struck on the shoulder.

Aizawa stifled a grunt and threw the two teenagers away from him.

Since their weight was zero Aizawa's thrust sent them flying onto the cobblestones, sheltered from the lamppost.

Another bolt of electricity struck Aizawa's left arm.

He groaned in pain as his muscles went into a painful spasm. His heart pounded so quickly and violently that Aizawa froze, wondering if he was having a heart attack.

Paralysed, he fell for nearly three meters.

He clenched his teeth and breathed through his mouth, refusing to close his eyes.

Then he saw someone on the roof of the building in front of him.

A sniper pointed his barrel towards Neito and Ochaco.

Panic swept over him.

With difficulty, Aizawa unravelled a piece of his capture scarf, his arm heavy and his movements slow.

He prepared to throw it, hoping for success, and-

The end of the barrel swung around.

Aizawa, suddenly feverish, sweating like an animal that knows it's dead, came face to face with the weapon.

*
"Dad ? What's going on ?"

He had already crossed the living room, barefoot, running without looking back.

He turned right - towards the east wing - and my heart leapt in panic.

I ran after him, caught off-guard, dry-mouthed, shouting at him to stop.

My concern turned to sheer fear as he climbed the stairs to the bedrooms.

I staggered at the foot of the stairs, a spasm shaking my arms until my hands, my stomach rising in my throat.
A blink later and I was behind him as he broke down Touya's door.

I stopped in the corridor a few steps before it, my eyes going to Teka's soldier, slumped in his chair, his head hanging limply from his shoulders as if his neck had been broken.

I ran two fingers under his nose - he's only knocked out - while my father ransacked Touya's room all the way to his bathroom.

The room to Touya's left opened with a jerk : one of the day soldiers, shirtless, dishevelled, pistol in hand, stepped calmly out.

He spoke in Italian.

"Has something happened ?"

His eyes went to his colleague.

He put two fingers on his neck to check his pulse.

Behind him, in the doorway, stood the other soldier, pistol in hand, watching us without coming out for safety's sake.

"I don't know, Dad..."

I gestured towards the night watchman's.

"Did you hear anything ?"

The question was purely rhetorical : of course they hadn't heard anything, my clone had supervised Touya's entire departure to make sure he didn't get caught.

Dad came out of the room at the same moment.

His eyes were bloodshot, his hair dishevelled, his face sickly pale.

I suddenly remembered that he hadn't slept for twenty-four hours and had just come back from what seemed to me a very long day.

"What's going on ? Has Touya disappeared ?"

At the same moment, the three doors at the end of the corridor opened.

Rei, Natsuo and Fuyumi stepped out one after the other.

Natsuo blinked like he was having an epileptic episode.

"What the... Enji ? What's going on ?"

Dad turned to the soldier in the corridor, whom glanced at the rest of the family, tucked his weapon discreetly behind the elastic of his underpants and then straightened up as if facing Teka.

"Didn't you hear anything ?"

"Enji", Rei insisted as she approached, her furry slippers clattering on the floor.

The soldier shook his head.

"Absolutely nothing. Lorenzo is not the type to be fooled easily : he must have been taken by surprise"

The second soldier gently closed the bedroom door and came out a second later, minus the gun, and stepped between Rei and his colleague as he spoke to my father in a low voice.

"What's going on ? Did something happen to Touya ?"

Dad looked as angry as he was distressed.

"Wake your colleague and inspect the house : we may have had a break-in. Make sure Rei and the children stay in their rooms"

The soldier, now wide awake, had to restrain himself from saluting him - right hand flat on his heart - as he would have done with Teka.

"Understood"

He looked up at Rei.

"I think Touya went for a walk without telling anyone. We have to find him"

She nodded her chin gravely, her eyebrows furrowed, but asked no further questions.

"Bring him back safe and sound, okay ?"

She hadn't believed his lie for a second.

Dad nodded curtly.

He turned to me.

"Shoto, take off those pajamas and put on some jogging pants. I want you at the front door in exactly one minute"

He spoke in Italian while Fuyumi and Natsuo listened anxiously to the exchange.

"Do you think he's been kidnapped ? ", I murmured.

I felt a bit like shit.

"If you've got your Hero outfit, put it on"

A minute later we were standing at the front door, him shoes on and me in my ANBU outfit, tantô included. The barked orders of the members of our Familia in brittle Japanese echoed through the dark night as they woke the staff and combed the house.

Someone had texted my father about Touya.

He tossed me his mobile phone as we flew over the forest towards Tokyo, Hell Flame on full blast.

Tokyo, Kugawa, Touya murdered

Drops of cold sweat rolled down the back of my neck as spasms shook my left hand.

If it was Hawks, I'd rip his wings off with my own hands.

If it wasn't, on the other hand…

A surge of panic hit me.

Someone's hunting you, someone knows, someone's playing with you, they're all against you, it's a trap, don't go, Touya's just the bait, you'll all die tonight-

The mobile phone read 04:32.

Hawks had to kill Touya and be gone before we arrived, otherwise my father would kill him.

*
A/N : Webnovel has now caught up onto the publication schedule : for those of you who preferred reading here, you can do so from today onwards
If you want to read ahead of schedule up to 27 chapters, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG
See you in the next update everyone !

 

[Nar_cisse]

Dabi stopped abruptly and raised his arm, palm out, toward Hawks.

The moment the first flame burst from his fingertips, Hawks accelerated.

A wave of blue flame exploded from Dabi's palm.

Hawks, two steps away, suddenly dropped to his knees and slid to the ground, his pants rubbing against the warm cement.

Flames grazed his hair and rushed behind him in a torrent of fire that rolled like a wave and crashed against the roof door.

The burning blast blew up Hawks' clothes and pulled his hood over his head.

Hawks, carried forward by his speed, slipped between Dabi's spread legs, feather in his right hand held in an inverted grip, gaze cold and focused.

He sliced through Dabi's left heel in one swift motion.

A spray of blood splattered the ground.

Hawks lost his running speed and rolled onto his side.

Dabi's legs caught fire as he collapsed.

Hawks jumped to his feet, legs bent, arm raised to shield his face, his sweaty palm frantically clenching and unclenching his improvised knife, and moved slowly away from Touya.

The softness of the feather rubbing against his skin with each breath unnerved him.

Dabi, back to him, was on one knee, gritting his teeth, blood rolling from his ankle until it formed a murky puddle beneath his foot.

His whole body was on fire and, despite his cautiousness, he kept an eye on Hawks who was calmly backing away to the left, away from the edge of the roof, trying to find the best angle for his next attack.

Dabi brought his hand to his left ankle, lips tight, gaze dark.

His palm took on a fluorescent bluish hue but did not catch fire.

He placed it on his torn ankle and pressed down hard ; a smell of rotting flesh, cooked to a crisp, crinkled Hawk's nose in disgust.

For a split second his eyes darted to the ice stalactite Dabi had left behind, still keeping the villain in his peripheral vision.


All that remained was a puddle of pink water mixed with blood, steam rising from it in white wisps.

Footprints of blood retraced Dabi's course to his current position.

Under his feet the blood puddle started to boil, bubbles bursting from its surface with a high-pitched hiss.

Dabi, covered in blue flames from head to toe, was a veritable human torch, a beacon in the dark night that must have been visible for miles around.

Hawks needed to get this over with quickly - or at least that's what Dabi wanted him to do by setting himself ablaze like that.

Dabi had always had stamina problems : his body wasn't built to withstand the use of his Quirk, let alone to the extent he used it - it had been a problem since they were kids.

Finish the fight quickly, be clumsy and reckless in your execution ; this was exactly what Dabi wanted to force Hawks to do, and why he made himself such a visible target.

If a Hero - or the police - came to check about the weird fire, Dabi would be safe.

If Hawks got careless in order to finish quickly, Dabi would roast him like a pig.

A prolonged fight was a double-edged sword for Hawks.

"What did he told to you ?"

Dabi stood up, obviously leaning on his right leg, dragging his left foot limply on the ground.

"What did he told you to get you to do his dirty work for him ?"

The flames died down but sparks continued to dance across his arms, illuminating his face with a bluish light and casting moving shadows on the roof.

Hawks, too, had reasons to stall.

"This isn't about him, it's personal"

Then he raised his hand.

Dabi, eyebrows furrowed, took a second too long to react.

The air whistled.

He turned his head sharply back, eyes wide, and saw a feather split the night.

He raised his hand, and a jet of flame shot out, charring the feather, a shower of ash falling to the ground, but the white calamus continued to fly through the flames like a rocket.

Dabi, mouth agape, stepped back and stumbled, raising his forearm to shield his face.

The sound of rubbing clothing made him turn his head to the side.

He caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure, legs bent, who had suddenly appeared to his right, a red feather glinting ominously in his hand.

Dabi's right side erupted in flames.

The calamus struck his right shoulder like a bullet.

Something snapped in his shoulder.

The force of the impact knocked him sideways, sending his left side -his exposed side - toward Hawks.

Hawks slipped through the opening and stabbed Dabi in the left thigh.

Blood splattered his fingers.

Hawks jammed the tip of his weapon in until only the top of the feathers were visible, then twisted sharply to grind the flesh.

The pain was so intense that, for a moment, it paralyzed Dabi.

Hawks pulled the feather down and tore through the thigh to the knee as if disemboweling an animal.

Dabi screamed and burst into flames like a human torch, an explosion of flame shooting from his body like a bomb.

Hawks widened his eyes, dropped the feather, tucked his chin into his neck, folded his arms in front of his face, and was blown away like a leaf by the force of the impact.

Swept by a tornado of almost white-blue flames, he flew across the roof like a rocket.

His back hit the burning metal door so hard that it knocked all the air out of his lungs.

He collapsed onto his right side, his elbow hitting the floor.

For a split second, he was unable to breathe.

Hawks, sweaty, his vision blurred, gasped for air, inhaling and exhaling superficially as shockwaves - like jolts of electricity - surged from his lungs whenever he breathed too hard.

His ears were ringing.

Dabi's angry growls came from behind a curtain of hazy, yellowish flames, that burned all around him.

Hawks blinked furiously until his vision cleared.

He struggled to his feet, his right elbow tingling painfully. The roof swayed beneath his feet.

His face was hot but not painful, and something in his back prevented him from standing properly.

He blinked and forced himself to focus on the shadow sitting in the middle of the burning pyre.

Dabi was sitting on the ground, his hands engulfed in flames, trying to glue the two sides of his torn thigh together as he cauterized the wound. It looked like a rictus of puking flesh had been carved in his thigh.

Hawks shook his head and tapped his ear with one hand, trying to drive away the sound that was parasitizing his hearing.

He stared at his bloody left hand in amazement, blinking three times too much before the information reached his brain.

Dabi's moans of pain pierced his veil of apathy.

A film of sweat covered his pale skin.

His left hand was glued to the top of his thigh - the femoral artery - that Hawks had shredded with his feather.

His pants were so soaked with blood that it looked as if he'd pissed himself.

Hawks blinked.

Dabi lay in a growing lake of blood that resembled a mirror opening onto a parallel world.

Steam rose from it, but there were no more bubbles bursting on the surface, only scabs and blood clots scattered like islands.

No matter how much he cauterized his wounds, Dabi would still be bleeding to death inside.

Hawks struck his right ear with the flat of his hand until the hissing stopped.

Then, almost by chance, he lowered his hand to his right and saw that his fingers were on fire.

He calmly tapped the charred fingers against his pants until the flames were extinguished.

Hawks, never looking away from Dabi, calmly unzipped his charred jacket.

As he bent his forehead forward, bits of burnt hair fell on his hand.

He looked at them for a second, surprised, then let them fall to the ground and threw off his jacket before cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders.

Dabi looked up at him sharply as if the noise had jolted him back to reality.

His pupils were so dilated that the black practically ate up the white.

Hawks wondered if that was due to blood loss or the drug Shoto had supposedly injected him with.

Dabi stared at him, unblinking, then suddenly shook his head as if to wake himself.

The hands gripping his thighs caught fire.

Without a sound - without looking away from Hawks - Dabi forced himself to his feet.

It was a move initiated by sheer determination, and one that Dabi was only able to complete thanks to the adrenaline pulsing through his veins in place of his blood.

His thigh quivered, his knee buckled and twisted on the side, flexing as if it would break at any moment. Dabi, with an almost miraculous stubbornness, remained on his feet.

They stared at each other, bloodied, wounded, and barely capable of a coherent thought that wasn't the instinct to kill the other.

Hawks had thought he'd want to talk to him, that he'd ask him to explain why he did that ten years ago.

He realized he didn't give a damn about his explanations.

"I'm going to kill you" Hawks said calmly.

It wasn't a threat - not even a promise - but the mere observation of a man who wouldn't stop at anything less.

Hawks circled Dabi, walking slowly and cautiously, careful not to get too close.

Dabi tilted his head back and smiled, chin up, teeth covered in blood, a gleam of terrifying, unadultered madness shining in his eyes, and suddenly Hawks thought he was facing Shoto.

"You look like you've been thinking about me for a long time" he said amusedly, his left leg convulsing as if it were about to give out. "You seem to have thought a lot about me... You want to know why, don't you ?"

Hawks felt them pierce the clouds swollen with rain and storm, heard them split the sky like bullets.

The rain that fell around Dabi turned to steam before it even hit the ground.

"I don't give a fuck"

Hawks was only two steps from the edge of the roof.

"You weren't my target. I just... There's some stuff wrong inside, you know ?" He hit his temple with a phalanx "My parents tried to tell me but when you're a kid, you don't really get it"

They entered Hawk's field of vision.

"I know you won't believe me, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry"

Hawks froze, foot raised, eyes wide, his next course of action unsure as he tried to make sense of what he'd just heard.

Then Dabi clapped his hands.

A tidal wave of blue flame erupted from his palms and swept across the roof like a supersonic wave.

The flames crashed to the ground, rolling across it like poison in wind, colliding with each other and bursting into bigger waves that destroyed everything in their path.

A searing wind slapped Hawks and pushed him backward, drying his skin as if he were turning to sand.

He spun awkwardly, his left foot hitting his right ankle, causing him to stumble.

His lips were chapped, his mouth dry, his clothes so hot he could feel them melting into his skin, his sneakers leaving puddles of melted plastic behind.

The flames slammed into him like a tornado from hell, licking at his ankles, devouring his pants.

He jumped from the roof without thinking.

*

A/N : If you want to read what happens next without waiting, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

 

[Nar_cisse]

Aizawa viewed the incident in slow motion.

"Sensei !"

The sniper fired.

Aizawa, suspended in mid-jump, slowly raised his forearms in an X-shape to shield his eyes.

The air smelled like thunder.

A drop of water fell on his cheekbone.

He felt the inactive gravity on his body pull him backwards as he had pushed the children forward.

His hair flew around his face as if he were underwater.

A black shadow crept into his peripheral vision.

He inhaled sharply.

Then a hand grabbed his ankle and pulled him down violently.

Aizawa crashed into metal dustbins.

They toppled against each other, bags ripping open, contents spilling out like a flood around him.

His hand slipped on a thick, sticky liquid ; the smell of decay rose to his nose. Without looking, he wiped himself on his trousers and jumped to his feet.

A shield of black shadows protected them from the sniper on the roof.

Monoma was beneath it, pale, shaking, arms raised, dripping with sweat.

His hands were embedded in the shadow wall, black threads running up his forearms as if he were merging with it.

Uraraka knelt beside Aizawa, her breathing labored ; it was obviously she who had pulled him while deactivating her Quirk.

Aizawa grabbed her elbow firmly - more out of necessity than lack of empathy - and pulled her to her feet.

A series of shots rang out, shaking the black wall like a water mirror whose surface had been fractured.

The metal bullets landed on their side of the shield, devoid of any speed, as if they'd been dropped from it.

Monoma clenched his jaw so tightly that Aizawa could see his cheek muscles tensing under his skin as if they were about to burst.

Aizawa analysed the situation in a split second : he picked up a garbage can lid, handed it to Uraraka and told her to go and hide at the end of the alleyway they'd planned to go into.

"As soon as I give you the signal, throw it with all your might through Monoma's shield, understood ?"

It was only a matter of minutes before a few Heroes came to see where the gunfire was coming from.

"Understood !"

But a lot could happen in a few minutes.

Aizawa and Uraraka split : she ran to the right, he to the left towards Monoma.

He put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

The boy gasped. Strands of blonde hair clung to his sweaty forehead and temples.

"As soon as the shooting stops, drop your shield and we'll run to the end of the alley"

If the sniper wasn't an idiot, it wouldn't be long before he changed his angle of attack.

Monoma nodded his chin, but Aizawa wasn't sure if it was because he agreed or because of the spasms.

The shooting stopped.

The shadows, black veins on his forearms, retreated in an instant. His hands regained the appearance of human skin, the black lingering longer on his fingernails.

Monoma staggered.

Aizawa, anticipating it, crouched down and threw him over his shoulders, belly to back.

His shoulder, still stiff from the electric shock, twitched at the contact, and Aizawa thought he would cramp up in the middle of the street.

He managed to get to his feet, grunting under the strain of the extra weight, then sprinted towards Uraraka.

The garbage can lid flew over their heads like a giant boomerang.

Aizawa ducked into the corner of the street where she had been hiding.

As soon as she saw him, Ochaco picked up her pace and ran to his left.

She brushed Monoma with her fingertips to lighten the weight on Aizawa's shoulders and he straightened up, exhaling with relief.

Right away the clouds burst and a downpour soaked them to the bone.

Aizawa tried to keep an eye on the rooftops, but it was almost impossible with the water pouring into his eyes.

His long hair stuck to his forehead and jaw, his soles squeaking on the wet ground.

They crossed the street and turned left. Aizawa thought he heard footsteps above them and quickened his pace.

Apart from Ochaco's jerky breathing - which she tried not to make too loud - Aizawa felt as if he were running alone.

They ran at a punishing pace for almost ten minutes : Uraraka didn't complain and Monoma was so motionless that Aizawa had the feeling he was carrying a corpse.

When she stumbled twice in a row and almost fell, Aizawa decided to take a break in the shadow of a closed door.

He put Monoma on the floor. The boy almost collapsed.

Aizawa craned his neck and rolled his shoulders, eyes sweeping over the area.

He thought he saw a light behind a curtain, but it was hastily extinguished.

The echo of the shots must have reverberated far enough for no one to dare leave their homes while they waited for the police.

"Monoma, can you run ?"

The boy nodded without answering, his bloodshot eyes wide open. He shook his head sharply, as if to wake himself, and clasped his hands together in a nervous tic.

There had been an earlier attempt on their lives in the middle of Tokyo and if the boy hadn't reacted in time, all three would have been dead.

Aizawa squeezed his shoulder to comfort him.

"You're doing a great job kid"

Aizawa could feel him trembling under his fingers: he didn't know if it was the rain or the stress of using his Quirk so much.

"Sensei, I don't have any signal"

Uraraka showed him her mobile phone with no signal.

"We have to go back to the center. Maybe we can call someone there"

Aizawa didn't know this part of the city very well, but he knew roughly how to get back to the center : then again, he wasn't sure if it was the best option.

"No"

Monoma's hoarse voice made them turn their heads towards him.

"This is what they want," he said in a low voice. "They've been trying to keep us away from the city all along, but now that they've lost us, they know we'll want to go there. This is the opportunity they need to catch us"

"But-"

"Monoma is right," Aizawa decided. "They must have set up an ambush for us nearby : it's preferable to catch them by surprise and go for the rear and then get through their security perimeter"

The longer the hunt lasted, the better their prospects would be.

"Not to mention all the civilians we'd be endangering by leading a group of armed and violent individuals there"

It was dawn : in a city the size of the capital, people would soon be getting up to go to work.

It was better for them to stay on the outskirts, where the population density was lower - the greatest good for the greatest number.

Aizawa continued to scan the surrounding rooftops, eyes squinting.

Water trickled from the walls as if they were porous.

"Yet we can't stay in this situation indefinitely. You have to contact Nezu"

Nezu had contingency plans for contingency plans - he'd know what to do.

" 'You ?' " Monoma asked.

Aizawa saw a shadow move: he pushed the teenager behind him without looking, his red eyes riveted on an obscure corner of the alley.

The rain drummed in his ears. The shadow didn't move.

Aizawa relaxed his stance and turned back to the teenagers, who looked around suspiciously.

A gust of wind rustled a tin can and they jumped.

This wasn't good - they were getting paranoid.

So did Aizawa but it was different - he was a professional.

"You head for the city and I'll head for the outskirts"

Uraraka was outraged.

"What ? Sensei, that's suicide !"

"Who's to say that they won't leave you for later and come after us ?", asked Neito pragmatically.

Aizawa remembered the sniper and the perfect shooting opportunity he'd had on Uraraka and Monoma.

If they had been the target, Aizawa would already be out of students.

"It's a meticulous, planned job," he explained. "They have a precise target and don't want to cause unnecessary damage"

If they had, they would have blown up the taxi that Aizawa, Neito and Uraraka had gotten out of earlier - Neito wouldn't have had time to save them by creating a dome of shadows.

"The fact that none of them used their Quirk and kept to firearms is also a strong indication of their goal"

They had prepared to face Aizawa.

Whatever their reason for seeking him out, they wanted him alive, or at least in a near-functional state.

Aizawa turned his head sharply to the left.

He thought he heard splashing sounds, like a group of people walking over puddles, but maybe it was only the rain's intensity increasing. Or maybe it really was someone.

Aizawa nudged them towards the west, towards the city.

"We don't have time to argue," he said.

Uraraka protested.

"But-"

"That's an order. Go"

Monoma, jaw clenched, looked at Aizawa as if seeing him for the last time, then nodded.

"I'll call for reinforcements, Sensei. Hold on until then"

Aizawa smiled awkwardly to reassure him, unaccustomed to handling the 'reassurance' part of his Hero job. Usually, Mic was there to handle such things.

No sixteen-year-old should have to worry about his teacher dying.

"Leave"

Aizawa pushed them forward.

They hesitated for a moment then started running, casting worried glances over their shoulders.

Aizawa waited until they had rounded the corner then turned on his heels, opposite direction from them, his serene expression replaced by one of intense concentration.

His strips of tape wrapped around a series of garbage cans : he tugged roughly and swung them against a wall, spilling their contents onto the floor.

A deafening noise covered the sound of the rain, like metal drums being smashed against rocks.

Aizawa continued to run haphazardly from the city, creating as much chaos as possible to draw attention to himself.

He thought he heard voices.

He turned abruptly into a narrow alley, the perfect place if he had to face a melee.

A shadow fell in front of him.

Aizawa slammed on the brakes and stepped back, muscles tensed, knife drawn, his shoulder brushing the wall to his left.

His black hair whipped his cheeks because of the rainy wind.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, water cascading down his forehead, colliding with the barrier of his eyebrows and sliding down his cheekbones.

The figure unfolded like a bat spreading its wings, so tall and wide that it cast a shadow across Aizawa's face.

It was as big as All Might.

"Hello, Eraserhead"

In front of him stood All for One.

*

A/N : If you want to read ahead of schedule, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

 

[Nar_cisse]

The flames gushed like an endless torrent from Dabi's body.

They swept over everything on the roof, smashed into the stairwell and engulfed every room floor by floor.

The blue flames poured from the roof into the street like steam from a boiling pot.

They crashed like fluorescent waves against the surrounding houses, rolling through the streets like a devastating tsunami, blowing out windows, uprooting lampposts and leaving only ashes in their wake.

The rain-soaked air became so clammy and hot that, for a moment, it stopped raining around Dabi.

A wall of steam rose from the top of the flames as they hit the air ; soon a fog covered the whole district and spread in surrounding streets.

The bluish flames illuminated the steam like neon lights, casting eerie, moving shadows on the walls of the deserted neighbourhood.

Dabi, his skin translucent, standing in the midst of the maelstrom of destruction, looked like an earthly star, so bright and intense that, for a moment, he illuminated the area as if it were daylight.

Spasms shook his arms.

His flames sputtered, disrupting the continuous blue stream, then turned red.

The dark sky reflected the blue, then the red, the clouds taking on the colour of hell on earth.

Dabi coughed and a cloud of black smoke rose from his mouth.

His flames died out.

The last red snakes of fire out of his hands followed the previous waves and scattered down the street.

Pale, his hair sticking to his brow, dripping with sweat, Dabi leaned on his right leg, hand on his knee, gasping for breath as ash and soot dripped like black blood over his lips and chin.

Warm rain began to fall on his neck and shoulders, crackling when it touched his burning skin.

As far as he could see, all the houses around him were ablaze.

The area looked like a war zone.

He could hear the metal of the buildings creaking and felt the cement beneath his feet becoming increasingly malleable.

He thought he heard someone scream.

It didn't last.

Dabi wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

A piece of charred cloth stuck to his lower lip.

Even his clothes - though made by a proper Quirk - were crumbling against his skin like dried leaves.

He knew he should be on the streets by now, taking advantage of the chaos to escape.

Neither heroes nor policemen would enter the hell he had created without first putting out the fires.

Otherwise no one would survive.

But they would secure the area, find a way to catch anyone who got out.

He had to leave.

Dabi blinked to clear his vision.

He shook his head several times, trying to shake off the dizziness that threatened to knock him over.

Although he had cauterised his wounds, Dabi had lost far too much blood in a far too short amount of time.

It was very likely that he was bleeding internally.

Add to that such a sudden and intense use of his Quirk on a weak body that was already struggling to cope under normal circumstances, and Dabi felt like he was going to vomit blood until he died.

He had to go now.

Dabi considered going back down the stairs, but the idea that the melting walls would become his tomb dissuaded him.

He dragged himself to the edge of the roof, head down, his left leg dragging behind him as if it were dead, clutching his ribs and torso so hard it felt like he was going to break them.

It was ironic that a half-competent hero had to tear him a new stomach in the tigh for him to learn he wasn't as immune to physical pain as he believed.

Dabi let out a grunt that bordered on a moan.

He needed to find a doctor who was able - and willing - to treat him.

He would have gone to Doctor Garaki if he could have been sure that the man wouldn't suddenly decide that it wasn't worth treating him and that it would be better to turn him into Nomu.

There was a guy in the red district who-

A gust of cold wind raised the hair on the back of Dabi's neck.

He barely had time to turn his head over his shoulder, a single eye visible beneath his curtain of hair opening wide.

Arms crossed in front of his face, wings outstretched like a bird of prey swooping down on its target, whitish steam curling around his body-

Dabi met his gaze.

He looked purely and simply mad with rage.

Dabi recoiled instinctively.

The next thing he knew, Hawks had slashed his cheek from nose to ear.

Blood ran down his face like a curtain of tears.

Dabi raised a heavy arm to defend himself.

Hawks slithered into his guard like a snake and struck his wrist with the flat of his hand, deflecting the attack.

The bolt of fire passed over his shoulder.

Hawks struck to stab Dabi.

Dabi deflected the feather with his left fist ; there was a metallic screech as it rubbed against his brass knuckles.

Hawks sent a right hook at Dabi, who dodged it by a hair's breadth and took a step back.

Dabi heard something whistle.

He bent over instinctively.

Two feathers pierced the spot where his head had been a second before, the third carving a gash in his neck.

Blood trickled down his neck and soaked his hair already sticky with sweat.

He'd been lucky none of them had-

It wasn't luck.

He didn't even need to look up : Hawks was already there, legs bent, inside his guard, a feather in each hand

He stabbed at Dabi's left thigh - the one that had been cauterised - and sliced just as he had before.

Dabi winced : his blood began to trickle in waves over his knees.

With his right hand, Hawks sliced open his stomach.

Dabi felt his bowels quiver, as if they were about to spill down his thighs. He grabbed his stomach with one hand and pressed his burning palm into his flesh, forcing himself to cauterise the wound as his vision blurred.

He opened his mouth to spit out a torrent of flame.

Hawks suddenly crouched, hood up, then spun around and kicked Dabi in the jaw, just below his chin.

Dabi's head snapped skywards.

A stream of reddish flame burst from his lips, lighting up the clouds and cutting off the rain above. He cut off the flow at once.

Dabi, stricken with panic, sensed a movement at the periphery and instantly covered his throat with both hands.

The feather plunged into the palm of his right hand and sliced diagonally through the flesh.

A jet of blood exploded from his knuckles and then suddenly dried up.

His last three fingers fell to the ground in front of his own stunned eyes.

The feather had sliced through the base of the little finger, passed through half the ring finger and landed on the second phalanx of the middle finger, just above the knuckles.

Dabi blinked.

Then a surge of rage overcame his panic, so violent and sudden that his hands began to shake.

Hawks abandoned the feather stuck against the blrass knuckle and drew another from his wings.

Dabi's skin turned translucent.

Hawks' eyes widened.

He kicked Dabi backwards, his shoe leaving a trail of melted sole on his shirt, and sent him tumbling towards the edge of the roof, knocking him off.

He took two steps back, his wings folding around him like a torpedo about to shoot to the sky.

Fire bubbled up in Dabi's stomach, burning his oesophagus on its way up, setting fire to every vein, igniting even the tiniest capillary, the searing burn spreading like wildfire through his system until he was nothing but fire.

He raised his hands, his trembling arms jerking in spasms.

Blood trickled from his right hand down to his elbow, dripping onto his burnt trench coat and trickling to the floor. His whole face under his eyes was covered in blood as if he'd bathed in it, the hot liquid rolling in waves down his neck, pooling in the hollow of his collarbone and soaking his jumper.

A tsunami of red and blue flame erupted from the streets behind Dabi, so high that it eclipsed the sky, so wide that the section of the neighbourhood behind him disappeared.

Hawks, lips clenched, feet barely touching the ground, reached the other end of the roof in a single second.

A curtain of bluish flames shot up behind him ; he skidded to a halt and took a sharp step backward, his feathers reflexively closing on him.

The flames rose to a height of nearly fifty meters in a matter of seconds. Two more walls of flame erupted from the left and right, merging with the first two tsunamis and encircling them on the roof, preventing any escape.

Hawks could hear Dabi's ragged breathing behind the sizzle of the rain falling on this hellish prison.

His eyes did a quick survey of the surroundings.

Impossible.

He slowly turned to face Dabi.

A curtain of steam smothered the sky above them, darkening the sky and the storm that raged above them.

Dabi was against the light, the contours of his trembling form lit up as if he were on fire.

They stared at each other, Dabi gasping for breath and Hawks realising that whatever he did, he was a dead man.

He had been prepared for this the moment he agreed to help Shoto - from the moment he started killing for the Commission.

Dabi's arms stopped shaking.

Hawks, eyes narrowed, face hard, barely visible behind his feathered barrier, pounced on Dabi at lightning speed.

Dabi dropped his hands.

Hawks split the air like a missile, the burning air whipping against his skin, drying his throat and stretching his lungs painfully with each new breath.

The dome of flames collapsed in on itself, the top of the wall smashing into the sections below in a series of explosions that sent geysers of red and blue in all directions.

Hawk's eyes dried up so quickly that even his tear glands ran dry.

The flames smashed into Dabi's back, sending him staggering forward a few yards, forcing him to his knees, arms outstretched like a human target, his glass skin dripping with blood.

Hawks memorised his position, calculated the distance to cover and the time it would take, then closed his eyes.

The distance between them was closing so fast that neither could tell which of the flames or Hawks would reach their target first.

The first drops of liquid fire - a bastardisation of lava - fell like rain on Hawks' shoulders.

The flames bypassed Dabi and swept towards Hawks like a jaw ready to snap.

Hawks continued his countdown.

The flames came at him from all sides, the grip of death tightening on him.

Throughout the fight, Hawks had conditioned Dabi to believe that he had to move his hands to guide his feathers.

Now !

Hawks, only a few paces from Dabi, propped himself against the soft ground with all his might, then made a sharp 90 degrees turn towards the sky.

Dabi, groggy, followed his spinning silhouette a second too late.

He saw the hole at the top of the dome of flames, the one Hawks was running for, no doubt thinking that the mist of bubbling steam was his best option.

Dabi watched in fascination as Hawk's huge wings closed around him like a protective cocoon as he slashed through the inferno.

His trousers caught fire. He didn't even react.

Dabi watched him flee in despair.

He had to admit it : no one had ever come as close to killing Dabi as Hawks had.

Nor had anyone ever been foolish enough to rush stubbornly in his flames to kill him.

Dabi's interest faded, but a glimmer of respect grew in his dead heart.

The silhouette of Hawks slashing through the flames was reflected in his clear eyes in a swirl of orange and yellow light, giving the impression that Dabi's eyes had caught fire.

He wouldn't make it.

- You-

The feather Hawks had hidden in his wake tore through Dabi's throat, a spray of blood splattering his shoulders and the surrounding roof.

*

A/N : If you want to read ahead of schedule, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

 

[Nar_cisse]

Aizawa didn't even think : in the same breath he activated his Quirk, he drew his gun.

All for One looked surprised.

Aizawa fired three times at close range, once in the head and twice in the heart.

All for One staggered backwards a few steps, the force of the impact pushing him back slightly.

He looked up at Aizawa.

Aizawa had already slipped into his guard, a short-bladed knife in his right hand.

He struck All for One's rib ; the blade went through his jacket and shattered against his skin with a deafening screech of metal.

The three bullets, reduced to smoking cylinders, fell to the ground with a clatter.

The one between his eyebrows had barely reddened his skin.

Aizawa, jaw clenched, dropped the knife and stepped back.

All for One's tried to grab him, his fingers' tips brushed against his flowing hair.

Aizawa leaned back so much that his torso and shoulders were parallel to the floor.

All for One's hand followed him dangerously.

Aizawa saw it hovering over his face, the long, thick fingers opening like pincers.

Above, the sky was black, yellowish lightning flashing around the edges and then running from cloud to cloud like fluorescent stripes.

Rain fell into Aizawa's eyes, stinging and blurring his vision.

Thunder rumbled : a flash of white light lit up the street, illuminating the surroundings as if it were dawn.

Aizawa shot the outstretched palm above his head : the hand jerked and tensed.

Aizawa stood up as it retreated ; he aimed his gun at the armpit of All for One's outstretched arm and fired.

All for One recoiled in shock.

Aizawa fired twice into his right knee and once into his left ankle, his red eyes wide open.

All for One recoiled from the impact, but none of the shots pierced his flesh.

Aizawa's Quirk could undo anything except mutations.

He shot All for One once in the throat and twice in the crotch, sending him staggering backwards.

Aizawa ran to the other end of the street, expertly removed his magazine, threw it to the ground and replaced it with another from his belt.

Nezu had once told Aizawa that people would eventually come because of his Quirk and that he had to be prepared for any eventuality - that day had come.

"There's no point in running, Eraserhead !", All for One shouted.

All for One made no move to catch up with him.

As Aizawa rounded the corner, a hand with a reddish halo of light shot up at face level.

Aizawa, carried by his momentum, fell to his knees and skidded across the grey cobblestones.

He slid into a puddle, spraying water around him like a car in rain.

Three soldiers - behind the one with the outstretched arm - lowered their heads towards him as he reached the centre of their diamond formation.

Aizawa shot the first in the ankle - the one he had just passed - and the feet of numbers two and three.

He saw the blood explode like fireworks at the periphery of his vision and heard them scream before they collapsed to the ground, dropping their weapons.

Aizawa raised his weapon to Number Four's knee.

The man kicked Aizawa in the wrist to make him drop it.

The gun fell and the soldier kicked it behind him.

Aizawa stood up and the man kicked him in the chest.

The air was violently expelled from his lungs.

Aizawa spat out saliva.

The shoe lifted off his torso and Aizawa's fingers wrapped around the soldier's ankle.

As the man brought his leg towards him, Aizawa was dragged along.

Barely on his feet, Aizawa took the opportunity to push the soldier's leg away from him, throwing him off balance.

The soldier staggered backwards and almost fell.

Aizawa slipped into his open guard and unleashed a right hook.

The man parried, slipping his forearm between Aizawa's fist and his face at the last second, the blow deflecting away from his face.

Rather than lose the advantage, Aizawa grabbed the soldier's collar with his right fist and pulled him forward, causing him to stumble and rip his clothes.

Aizawa grabbed the soldier's neck with his left hand and then headbutted him in the nose.

He heard the cartilage crack.

Head ringing and dizzy, Aizawa stepped back as the man held his bloody nose in one hand.

The soldier raised his right hand towards Aizawa but nothing came.

Aizawa, his eyes red with blood, jammed his right foot into the soldier's knee like a torpedo.

The soldier's leg twisted into a 'V', the tip of which was his knee that sank down to the damp ground.

A bone - probably his tibia - tore through his flesh and trousers with the sound of flesh being ground to a pulp.

The man collapsed, screaming, and Aizawa stepped over him, forcing himself not to look.


He grabbed his weapon left in the middle of the street, turned to the soldier and shot his other foot, incapacitating him.

Aizawa ran.

The drumming of the rain - and with it the impossibility to hear if All for One was getting closer - made him nervous.

He knew he couldn't be far away, but losing sight of All f-

- Era-ser-head

A warm breath blossomed on Aizawa's neck as he passed an alley.

A shiver of terror ran through his body like an electric shock. Every hair on his skin stood on end.

Aizawa barely had time to turn his head before a huge hand closed over his face.

Simultaneously, something pulled him violently backwards, dragging him by the throat and choking him painfully.

Fingers closed beside his face, icy skin grazing his jaw.

Aizawa fell backwards and rolled several times.

His head hit the ground and he froze in the middle of the street, slightly stunned, trying to see the man who had saved him.

His scarf had tangled on a protruding stone from the wall, turning the remaining part of the scarf around his neck into a hangman's noose.

Aizawa, on his knees, blinked slowly, rain trickling down his face.

A beginner's mistake had just saved his life.

Rising to his feet, he tore off the tangled piece of scarf with his left hand, tearing it to shreds as he raised his gun towards All for One, who was calmly watching him from the corner of the street, two meters away.

His index finger grazed the trigger; a muddy boot crushed his right wrist, a jolt of pain shooting up to his shoulder.

The gunshot went to the left, away from All for One. His weapon slammed into the wall and fell with a clatter.

The soldier - who had literally fallen from the sky - landed with a crunch on the wet ground, legs bent.

Aizawa, his wrist burning, barely had time to move his head back to avoid the stab.

With a hissing sound, the blade sliced through the air, slicing vertically across Aizawa's throat and chin.

The soldier reversed his grip, moved the blade horizontally and tried to slit Aizawa's throat three times in a row without losing his rhythm.

Aizawa stepped back, narrowly dodging each time. His throbbing right hand fumbled on the belt at his waist, looking for his second knife.

His fingers were numb and unresponsive.

Blood trickled from a shallow cut on his neck.

The soldier stood still for a split second as he realised his blow had landed. His muscles temporarily relaxed.

Most people tended to pause briefly when they see that one of their blows had landed. Aizawa seized the opportunity, grabbed his knife with his still trembling right hand and struck the soldier in the stomach.

The blade tore through his uniform and sank into his stomach up to the hilt.

The man dropped his own knife and collapsed on top of Aizawa who caught him and laid him gently on the ground.

Hopefully he didn't hit any vital organs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aizawa saw a shadow leap down from the roof in front of him.

There was a rush of quick steps and splashes.

Aizawa's capture scarf wrapped around the soldier's ankles, trapping him like prey.

Aizawa pulled sharply.

The man, arms flailing behind him as if they were lifeless, crashed in the street like a broken doll.

Aizawa grunted, pulling his victim towards him as if he were pulling a lariat back.

Aizawa shifted aside at the last second and the soldier crashed into the two men who had crept up behind Aizawa.

Aizawa tore off that part of his scarf, leaving the soldier pinned down. Then he threw another tape at his gun, which had been left against the wall, and pulled it back to him with a flick of his wrist.

The icy, dripping weapon returned to his right hand.
Aizawa turned to face the two downed soldiers who, swept away like bowling pins, were getting back up on their feet.

Lightning illuminated the street in a white flash.

Aizawa caught the silhouette of a person projected onto the cobblestones in front of him.

He turned fluidly, his shoes squeaking on the ground, Quirk activated.

The man, hands cupped around his mouth, was barely a meter above Aizawa.

The shimmering steam that had spewed from his lip vanished at once.

Aizawa shot him in the shin.

The man fell from the sky like a bird whose wings had just been plucked.

A knife pierced Aizawa at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

Aizawa faltered, his knees weakening as his attacker pressed down on his shoulder with all his weight.

The second soldier appeared to his left, his weapon aimed at Aizawa's torso.

Aizawa let go and fell to the ground.

The shot rang out.

The air whistled in his ears, the curls stuck to his jaw flew wildly.

The first soldier - the one who had stabbed him - had let go.

Aizawa caught himself on his hands, heart hammering in his chest, breath short. His head turned to the left.

He saw a leg and didn't think ; his hand lifted up the trousers and his teeth sank in the ankle.

The echo of the shot still reverberated in the street as he tore at the flesh with all his might.

A jet of lukewarm blood splashed diagonally across his face and over his nose. Aizawa spat out the piece of flesh and forced himself to ignore the blood he swallowed in his next gulp.

Scream.

Blood splashed into his right eye : he closed it.

He heard a gun fall somewhere behind him.

Aizawa didn't run for it; too obvious.

He pushed off on his toes and crawled forward, grabbing the knife that had fallen from the soldier he'd gutted.

The man, one hand on his stomach, lay in a pool of his own blood half a meter away.

Still on the ground, Aizawa rolled onto his back, knife in hand, and turned to face the man who had stabbed him.

A flash of pain shot through from his shoulder to his neck like a searing burn.

The knife slipped through his fingers ; he caught it at the last second.

It was he who had been shot.

The soldier's head turned in shock towards his ankle-torn comrade, nervously reaching for the weapon at his waist.

Aizawa flexed his wrist and threw the knife at his throat.

Blood spurted out like a fountain.

Not even having time to put his hands to his throat, the man made a gurgling sound - as if choking on bubbles - and fell face first on the ground.

The knife plunged deeper and tore through his throat to the back of his neck.

A wave of guilt washed over Aizawa : he forced himself to ignore it, crawled to the corpse, flipped him on his back and grabbed the gun from its holster.

He wasn't even dead yet.

Aizawa rose to his feet, arms hot and aching, sore and exhausted, thighs trembling with fatigue.

He wiped the blood from his right eyelid with two fingers and brushed away the sticky hair from his forehead with the hand that wasn't holding his weapon.

His own gun had slipped somewhere, and it was impossible for him to know where.

Aizawa raised his head and saw All for One standing on the roof across from him, hands clasped behind his back, watching him in silence.

He stood back to the black sky and the thunderstorm, the wind swelling and blowing a long black cloak in his wake like a ship's sail in a storm.

Aizawa spat a mixture of saliva and blood on the ground without taking his eyes off him.

The sky had become shower, soaking Aizawa's clothes until they clung to his skin, washing away the blood off his clothes until it diluted in puddles.

Aizawa stood in a sea of pink puddles.

"Surrender, Eraserhead"

Soldiers poured in waves from rooftops and surrounding alleyways, trapping him in the middle of their formation.

"You can't escape us"

Aizawa's Quirk was a matter of national security.

No one else in the world had ever been born with the power to erase those of others.

If All for One succeeded in capturing him - turning him into a Nomu, or worse - no one would be able to stand in his way.

"Don't make things unnecessarily difficult"

Aizawa's red eyes flashed over all the soldiers who surrounded him but stood at a safe distance, wary.

Twenty-eight.

Every single drop of rain hit on the ground with the intensity of thunderclap turning the earth upside down

Aizawa exhaled loudly, calmly lowering his yellow goggles over his eyes.

His blood pounded in his ears, warming his muscles and electrifying his body.

He spread his legs shoulder-width apart, tightened his grip on his weapons - knife in reverse grip in his left hand, pistol in his right - rolled his shoulders then locked his stance, posture aggressive, jaw clenched and gaze determined.

He already knew what Nezu and the Commission's top brass would say to him in such circumstances : order to kill.

"Bring it on"

*
A/N : If you want to read ahead of schedule, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

 

[Eggmaster]

Goddangit my guy eraserhead the most goated character in MHA

 

[Nar_cisse]

Neito and Ochaco turned left.

They heard police sirens.

Neito tripped and fell.

Ochaco let out a grunt and turned to help him.

He pushed her hand away brusquely, leaned against a wall to steady himself, and eventually sat down at the foot of a narrow staircase, his back against a step.

He raised one hand towards her the other on his chest which rose and lowered quickly.

"I need- my breath-"

Ochaco reached for him again.

"Let me-"

"No !"

Ochaco looked at him, surprised at his sudden outburst.

"Don't-"

He exhaled loudly.

"Don't touch me !"

Hand still hovering in the air, her fingers closed on nothing as she brought her arm clumsily back to her body.

"A minute," he said. "I need a minute"

Ochaco watched him breathe slowly while she stood in the rain, arms flailing, with the distinct impression that if she tried to take cover beside him, he'd push her away.

"So ?"

"So what ?"

"You got any signal ?"

Ochaco blinked.

She fumbled in her pocket.

"Yes, I-"

A tentacle of shadow snatched her mobile out of her hand.

Neito retrieved it and typed feverishly ; she saw him enter an unfamiliar number, but he raised the screen before she could see any more.

"We have to call the school", she said.

"I know"

Silence.

"Who are you sending this text to ?"

"My uncle"

Ochaco frowned but said nothing.

There was another gunshot and Neito and Ochaco instinctively ducked their heads in their shoulders.

Neito didn't let go of the mobile phone, finished typing and threw it carelessly back at her.

Ochaco caught it awkwardly and put his hand on it to protect it from the rain, growing more and more irritated.

"Catch", he said deliberately late

She felt like breaking his nose.

"Have you told the school ?"

He gave her a sideways glance as he sank back into his improvised seat, breath still short.

"I did"

Ochaco looked down at her mobile phone.

He'd deleted the message he'd sent as well as the number.

She glanced at him but he didn't even look at her, his attention focused on the street they'd just come from and in the direction they'd left Aizawa.

He looked torn, as if he wanted to go back but barely managed to restrain himself.

Ochaco half shoved her mobile into her pocket then froze.

'What do you want ?

- The exact position of All for One'

She hesitated.

There was a cavalcade of shots - all further away than the previous ones.

Neito stood up.

"Let's find other Heroes to help Sensei"

Before she could change her mind Ochaco sent her localization to all of her contacts in the class group.

*

A ring of blue flames shot up from the ground around a small building.

They illuminated the deserted neighbourhood as if in broad daylight, stretching the surrounding shadows into thin fingers.

High above, black clouds rolled and collided as thunder rumbled and erupted in a thunderous roar.

A cloud of steam separated sky and fire like an illusory diaphanous veil, sometimes looking as dark as the sky, sometimes as blue as the burning pit of fire under.

All around the neighbourood an icy, biting rain, lashed the ground.

The moment the first pillar of blue flame had shot up into the dark night, Dad had veered in its direction, Hell Flames on full blast for miles.

I veered next to him without a word, wet hair clinging to my forehead, fear tightening my throat and clouding my thoughts to the point where I felt like I was wearing blinders, unable to see anything but the cement platform in the middle of the sea of flames.

I glanced sideways at my father - exhausted, pale, wrinkled forehead, tight lips, worried eyes - and felt a pang of guilt shoot through my chest.

But I didn't bury it deep down as I was used to doing with most of my emotions.

I knew it was for his own good - that a dead Touya, idealized because he had become a chimera, was better for him than a living Touya.

His death would hurt him for a while - it was a pittance compared to his safety.

My thoughts returned to the anonymous SMS.

Someone knew. I didn't like it. Yet I could do nothing about it.

No matter what happened tonight, I would assume all the consequences of my actions and what they engendered.

Three hundred meters.

His flames redoubled as his concern grew. I kept up the pace.

I was capable of going much faster, but I had to give Hawks time to finish before we got there - otherwise it would all have been for naught.

To say I wasn't worried about him would have been a lie.

The time I'd allotted him for the murder - mistakes included - was long gone.

There should have been no geyser of flames, no spreading fire.

Hawks should have run away - or at least tried to - and been caught by a hero's patrol.

We should have received a phone call from the police, we should have gone in the middle of the night to the very station where we had been told that Touya was alive.

This could only mean one thing : Hawks had failed.

But that didn't mean that Touya wouldn't die.

After all, my clone was with them.

His orders were to assassinate Touya if Hawks didn't manage it and to vanish as soon as Touya was dead - if he didn't, it meant that he thought Hawks still had a chance to kill Touya without outside intervention.

Two hundred meters.

The ring of flame turned into a fiery dome.

I didn't know whether I would rather have Hawks alive or Touya dead.

One hundred meters.

To tell the truth, I knew which option I wanted - the answer only made me feel like a human scum.

"Shoto !"

He didn't need to say any more as a torrent of water burst from my palms.

Cascades of water crashed over the burning houses underneath our feet, kicking up a cloud of steam in our wake.

The waves rolled down the streets like rapids, smashing against the walls and splashing the surrounding area like sea against shore.

I cut the flow and directed the waves to disperse into the surrounding streets while still flying towards the main building.

The flames heaved as they died.

I raised my hand and the rain increased on the side of the fire dome that I couldn't-

Suddenly the wall of fire fell.

The night turned black again, barely lit by the spreading fire.

My father landed on the roof first and I softly behind him.

Our sudden arrival generated an air movement that blew the steam around us.

Everything was silent.

A thick, damp, white mist floated around us as if we were in a cloud. Thin wisps of it stretched out like long veins and stuck to the ground.

Despite my reinforced shoes, the heat from the burning ground was radiating up my legs. The ground was malleable, like dry but wet mud.

It smelled of burnt flesh.

Dad surveyed his surroundings, tense, jaw clenched, water trickling from his hair to his neck.

It was like buckets of water were falling from the sky.

My eyes darted to the right in the thick of the smoke.

I stood still, my heart pounding.

Then I started walking, legs heavy, into the fog.

Three steps later I stopped, arms flailing, eyes riveted on the body at my feet.

He lay in a pool of coagulating blood, his dirty, burnt arms hanging loosely at his side as if he were dead.

The left side of his skull was so badly burned that half of it was hairless. Bloody, reddish burns stained his throat and ran down his torso like scars of hot iron.

He couldn't breathe.

"Is that…"

*

A/N : If you want to read ahead of schedule up to 27 chapters, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

 

[Nar_cisse]

I could barely hear my father's confusion through the fog of my mind.

The broken cartilage of his wings hung limply behind him.

"...Hawks ?"

I continued to stare at Keigo, unable to look away, the drumming rain drowning out all other sounds.

I was paralyzed, frozen in time, unable to do anything but stare at him as he bled to death.

He's dying.

I looked up at my father.

Confusion then horror flashed through his eyes.

I saw the panic in his eyes as he turned his head to the side and looked over his shoulder.

He rushed to the other end of the roof.

I watched him, oddly detached from the situation, as if I wasn't really in my body.

He disappeared into the fog, smoke engulfing him.

He hadn't taken the time to take Hawks' pulse, hadn't even knelt down to see if he was still breathing, hadn't even looked at him once he realized it wasn't Touya.

Hawks - like everyone else - was relegated to the background because his son, his murderer of a son, the one he shared flesh and blood with, was dying.

He would have done the same if it had been me.

I would have done the same for him.

Suddenly, the image of the perfect father I'd worshipped all my life shattered.

He had never put his duties as a Hero above his family but rather used his privileges in our benefit. He was a father first, then a man, then a Hero. He was selfish, too.

He was more like me than I realized.

I wasn't sure I liked it.

My gaze shifted to Hawks.

It was good that he was dying.

It meant I could push the narrative I wanted and nobody could argue. It meant he could never betray me, that my plan had been executed to perfection and no one would ever know.

It was a good thing.

He had to die.

It was a good thing, really.

The scenario was ideal, far better than anything I could have imagined.

A good thing.

He killed for me.

There was only one other person who had ever done that.

I batted my eyelashes to clear the drops of rain then dropped to my knees beside Hawks, sending splashes of water and blood onto his torn clothes as my legs hit the ground.

A sudden rush of air from the other side of his body blew a hole in the smoke screen that surrounded us.

My hands, glowing an intense green, focused on his torso.

My clone's focused on his head.

My left hand remained above his chest while my right turned skyward, index and middle fingers outstretched.

Steam thickened around us, cloaking us.

Above our heads, the rain changed its course as if an invisible umbrella were hovering above us, the drops of rain rolling off its transparent surface like they would on a glass bell.

A spark of electricity crackled at my fingertips.

I placed them on his chest and sent the first shock.

His chest shook. Nothing happened.

"Shoto !"

There was desperation in my father's tone.

I continued to shock Hawk's heart with my right hand while using my left to perform cardiac massage.

From the look on my clone's face, I knew the damage to his head was more serious than we'd thought.

He closed the wounds, strengthened the bones, and rebuilt the burnt tissue.

I sent shock after shock, lips pursed.

Come on, come on !

"Shoto !"

Hawks, wake up.

I wouldn't be able to bear it if he died because of me.

His chest jerked, his arms and legs convulsed.

"Shoto !"

I tore myself away from Hawks as soon as his heart started beating again.

Reluctantly, I left him to my clone's care and took a few steps back without turning around.

With a gesture, a second clone appeared to my right and ran towards Hawks.

The image of his twisted, bruised, broken body burned itself into my mind.

He had told me how Touya had hurt him. He'd told me how desperate he was to get out of the hospital.

He had trusted me, and I had ordered my clone to let him die if that was the price he had to pay to kill Touya.

It wasn't until I turned on my heels, my gaze gliding momentarily over a puddle, that I realized I had activated my Sharingan.

I ran to the other end of the roof, sharingan deactivated, rain whipping against my skin, where I could feel my father.

The sickening gurgles finally reached me despite the pounding rain.

Surprised, I stopped in my tracks, my legs stiffening for a moment.

My hands were clammy. A cold sweat ran down my neck.

This isn't-

I shunshined.

A crouching figure appeared behind the fog.

I emerged from the cloud, shock freezing me in place.

My father was holding Touya, his head against his chest, his blood running down his hands and thighs.

I could read the terror in his wide eyes, the horror in his half-open mouth, the lack of understanding in the wrinkles that creased across his forehead.

He looked at him the way he'd looked at me the day Kenzei had died and he'd found me covered in his blood.

I wondered if that was the expression he'd have on the day I died.

He looked up at me as if he'd heard me.

"Save him"

There was a groan of pain, followed by a squeak, and suddenly Touya's head emerged from the shadow of my father's. Touya hiccupped, eyes fluttering back and forth between Dad and I.

He hiccupped, eyes wide with terror as he choked on his own blood. Blood bubbled like soap from the corners of his mouth.

He looked at me for barely a second, then looked up at my father, two weak fingers tugging at his suit to attract his attention, leaving a bloody fingerprint behind.

My father was looking at me but I looked at Touya, unable to understand what I was seeing, afraid of what it meant.

There was a hole in his throat, a slit thinner than a razor blade in his windpipe, and the mark of two red iron-tipped fingers crudely cauterizing the wound.

His head swiveled and the top of the wound reopened.

A thin white tip, like a bone, tore through the skin.

Touya hissed, raised a hand to his throat, leaned forward, eyes bulging, and coughed until he puked blood.

He shouldn't have been able to breathe.

He should be dead.

"Shoto, please"

My father grabbed Touya's shoulder with his left hand and held him tighter to his chest, then grabbed my wrist with his right.

The feather's still stuck inside.

I couldn't look away from Touya.

The feather was still stuck in his throat

He should be dead.

It didn't make any sense.

He should have died of asphyxiation, the feather should have come out the other side, he should-

He looked like a tiny, fragile child curled up against my father's chest, so weak and pathetic that he could only make high-pitched, almost whistling sounds, tugging desperately at his Hero's clothes to get his attention.

Impossible.

The rain turned into a hellish cacophony, deafening my ears and drowning my thoughts.

Shapes blurred, colors turned gray, and the blood spurting from his guts formed a red river that flowed all the way to my shoes, red waves licking the tips of my soles.

The voice whispered in my ear, its warm breath raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

'They are against you, Shoto. All of them against you.'

Were they ?

'Listen to his whimpering, look at him flailing. He should be dead.'

It didn't make sense.

'He should have died in the burning house, he should have died in the volcano, he should have died tonight'

How could he not ?

'The world will always get back on track no matter what you do, no matter how despicable it is.'

My skin was clammy and slimy, and suddenly I wanted to rip it off so that I could detach myself from it - detach myself from Shoto - so that I could become someone else, someone without inhibitions nor fears, someone who would always go forward regardless of the consequences.

'Go on, kill them all'

I was at the edge of the abyss, about to fall into the infernal spiral that would swallow me whole.

'I know you're dying to do it'

If I go forward, I-

"I can't lose my child a second time"

His voice broke.

I blinked, surprised, and suddenly the spell was broken, the colors bleeding into each other like watercolors until they got back to where they belonged.

I looked down at my father's hand clinging to my wrist as if I were his anchor in the middle of a storm.

His fingers were trembling.

Without looking away from his hand, I deactivated my Sharingan.

"I know you hate him, Shoto, and I know how much I'm asking of you right now..."

I was shaken by the pain in his voice.

I forced myself to release my hold on my tantô.

He held Touya in his arms as if to comfort him, eyelids low over sad eyes, hair graying, shiny and disheveled at his temples.

Rain trickled down his forehead, split at the bridge of his nose, rolled down his cheeks and diluted the son's blood he'd accidentally smeared on his jaw.

He looked old, weak and frail.

He shouldn't continue his career as a hero.

"I beg you : save him"

And when my father, still holding Touya under his left arm, tried to kneel before me, I could not bear it any longer.

"Get up", I said and grabbed his shoulder firmly as he started to bend forward.

The Todoroki were neither whiners nor beggars.

I crouched down, my gaze meeting his.

I didn't know if it was exhaustion, stress or fear, but suddenly his eyes became wet and I couldn't bear to look at him any longer.

I turned my gaze back to Touya, jaw clenched, who immediately tried to get up and back away, barely able to lift his torso before he slipped.

My father held him down, his hands on his shoulders, while I watched in silence.

Despite my iron grip on it, my chakra slipped out of my system in droplets : the ground cracked beneath my feet, fine cracks spreading like cobwebs behind me.

Did I have to give up on killing him ?

Was this the price I had to pay to become someone new - someone better ?

In his haste to escape even if he was immobilized, the triangular tip of the calamus swung under his skin and tore his throat wide open, timidly drawing the top bar of a 'T'.

Touya coughed, blood splashing across my forehead, face and eyelids.

I felt my father tense ; my hands went to Touya's throat.

He looked down at my fingers in horror, tucking his chin into his throat to get a better look at what I was doing, the top of his head rising.

The blood flowed faster and darker, swirling in the hollow of his throat, and I was tempted to leave him to his fate.

If I killed him, would that mean that despite my best efforts, I was unable to change my inner nature ?

And if I didn't kill him, would I be betraying the terrified boy who had nearly drowned in his bathtub ?

Suddenly, Touya's eyes rolled back into their sockets.

He collapsed like a popped balloon and then stopped moving.

My fingers hovered over his throat, undecided. My father stirred. A green halo illuminated my fingers.

I scanned his throat, the diagnostic jutsu assessing the extent of the damage.

A piece of broken calamus laid across his throat like a fishbone. Tiny shards of bone had pierced his esophagus like thorns.

More pieces might have ended up in his lungs.

The feather had traveled diagonally across his throat and ended up hitting on his spine, breaking in half there.

How likely was it that the feather would hit his damn spine ?

"Can you do anything ?"

If he lived it meant that nothing made sense, that my moral conflicts had no reason to exist, that I could do whatever I wanted as long as I wanted to because the world would always find a way to get back on track.

If he died, on the other hand, it meant that I was as free to decide my path as I was to be held accountable for my actions.

If he lived then I could become the worst scumbag on Earth and the world would keep on turning.

If he died I'd be forced to become a better person.

If he lived, I would return to my true nature.

If he died, it meant I had the power to change.

"Shoto ? Is there anything you can do ?"

Becoming a better person is so much harder than staying the one I am.

I bit the inside of my cheek and got to work, placing my right hand over his lungs to artificially stimulate his breathing.

My left hand remained over his throat : my chakra scalpel sliced his throat vertically from under his chin to the hollow of his collarbone.

Blood began to gush out but I deflected the fluid like a floating river around my fingers before inserting it further down the incision in his throat.

I wasn't manipulating the blood per se, just redirecting it with my neutral medical chakra which acted like a tunnel.

I lowered my hand until my fingers grazed his throat.

The white calamus, covered in blood, quivered at the contact with my green chakra.

It barely moved at first, resisting, and I had to force it out, inadvertently enlarging the wound.

Slowly, the feather emerged from his throat like a floating anchor.

I clenched my jaw, eyebrows furrowed, more focused than I'd ever been in my whole life.

I could kill him, pretend the operation had gone wrong, slice his jugular without moving a muscle.

That's what the old me would have done.

That's what the new me really wanted to do.

I didn't want to make a decision - no matter what choices I'd made in my life, everything had always gone wrong, no matter my motives.

My eyes went to the growing pools of blood I was kneeling in.

But maybe this time I won't have to make a choice...

The calamus - four centimeters in length - emerged completely from his throat.

The flesh repaired itself, the filaments crisscrossing, then the skin reformed before tightening like a tile of cloth.

I didn't heal the wound on his right hand or the huge gash on his left thigh.

My eyes returned to the pools of blood in which we bathed.

The shock should have awakened him.

It didn't.

My hands remained on his heart.

I sent three consecutive shocks, just as I had done with Hawks.

Nothing happened.

Touya's whistling stopped. His breathing became more even.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father's shoulders slump in relief, as if he could hardly believe it.

I was leaning over Touya now : he didn't see the right hand I brought to Touya's thigh and plunged into his flesh, twisting my fingers maliciously to hurt him.

No physical reaction.

Passed out or...?

I straightened up casually, one hand on his neck and the other on his chest.

He was breathing easily.

Another electric shock.

No reaction.

"It's not magic," I told my father. "I limited the damage, but he's already lost too much blood. If he dies, there's nothing I can do"

I was - and always would be - incapable of bringing the dead back to life.

But if I was right, if the world always got back on track no matter what I did, then Touya wouldn't need me to possess Edo Tensei to survive.

Or maybe the world was on my side a little bit.

Maybe Touya wouldn't wake up.

"Thank you"

I didn't answer.

My father, who had been on his knees, his buttocks on his heels, leaned back, his arms on his knees, and watched me as I finished my work on Touya's throat.

His shoe hit small, rigid cylinders that rolled and shit.

I tensed, forcing myself not to look, hoping he would do the same, trying to divert his attention.

"I'm pretty much done with him: you need to call 911 so they can take over. If you do it soon enough, there's a good chance he'll pull through", I lied

Don't look, don't look, don't-

He lowered his eyes to the cylinders, raised his gaze, then abruptly looked down again.

His posture went from exhausted to taut as a bow.

I met his gaze but he didn't look at me, his eyes roaming my two hands first, then Touya's.

He stopped at his right hand and silently examined it, stunned.

Then - with no expression on his face - he dusted off his trousers and stood up.

One shunshin later I was in his way, preventing him from advancing.

The sky was black above us, the storm roaring.

Yellow lightning burst from one cloud and spread to the next, creating a network of fluorescent yellow veins crisscrossing each other.

The wind whipped and the rain intensified, blurring the surroundings.

My father looked down at me in surprise, then frowned.

He had been careful not to step on the three severed fingers lying in a pool of coagulated blood.

"Move aside Shoto"

He would kill Hawks, I was sure, because that's what I would have done if I were him.

"No"

I wouldn't let him.

*

A/N : If you want to read the next chapters ahead of everyone, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

 

[Nar_cisse]

Dad`s mouth tightened into two thin white lines.

He tried to move around me, but I slid smoothly in front of him, blocking his path yet again.

This time his expression hardened, a flash of anger lighting up his eyes.

"Get out of my way"

Chin slightly up, back straight, shoulders tensed, I met his gaze defiantly.

"No"

He stared at me silently, the muscles in his left cheek contracting and relaxing so quickly they looked as if they were throbbing under his skin.

I heard the tyres screech against the wet tarmac a little later than I should have because of the thundering rain crashing down around us.

I wondered if we were going to fight.

"He tried to kill my son"

My legs started to shake - I swallowed hard.

My eyes burned as I stopped my sharingan from instinctively opening.

"You shall not touch Keigo"

I'd been raised by a father with absolute and unconditional love, the kind of man who had seen me kill time and time again and never held it against me, who had always believed in me and always had my back even when the whole world was against me. I was brought up believing that it didn't matter what I did, that as long as I did my best - even if I hurt the people around me - everything would be all right.

My father's morality - our morality - wasn't double-edged: I could hurt people and do harm without suffering the consequences, but people couldn't touch me without paying the price of it a hundredfold.

I'd never realised how unfair this ideology was to anyone who wasn't me.

He frowned.

"You're my son, I'm certainly not going to fight you. Now step aside"

He made a step to the side.

I slipped past him as smoothly as if I were his shadow.

I'd always loved the idea of being able to do anything I wanted and knowing that no matter how awful I became, there would always be someone who would love me unconditionally and would welcome me home with open arms.

I wondered if I would have become a better person if my father had held me accountable for my actions.

"Sho-"

My sharingan activated.

His shocked expression when he saw it seared itself into my memory.

Endeavor, forty-six years old, one meter ninety-five, Quirk : Hell Flame...

My throat constricted so much that I could barely breathe without showing him how nervous I was. Icy sweat broke out at the back of my neck.

...strengths: intelligence, speed, uncanny mastery of his Quirk. Weaknesses : me.

My clones exploded. The smoke cleared.

We stared at each other, me resolved, him shaken.

I didn't move and he didn't.

There was a cavalcade of footsteps in the stairwell.

"I don't want to fight you", I said coldly, "But if you take another step towards him, I won't hesitate"

The surprise and confusion stunned him.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my trousers. Gradually I managed to steady my shaky knees and stand straight and strong in front of him.

I liked to think Nagano's incident had changed me, that I'd become different, maybe not better but certainly not worse.

I'd decided that I couldn't go on living the way I always did, that I had to face the consequences of my actions alone and to the very end.

Planning Touya's murder was my idea - Keigo was my consequence, and I had to deal with it.

"You would stand up against me for him ?"

He looked at me in disbelief, his tense expression changing to one of astonishment.

His furrowed eyebrows rose, his bandaged muscles relaxed, his fists unclenched.

"I will stand up against you if you tell me that Touya's life is worth more than his. Is it ?"

He didn't answer, just stared at me with a strange glint in his eyes.

Wasn't that an answer in itself ?

To oppose him so directly was the antithesis of everything I had ever been.

I had spent my entire existence worshipping the ground he walked on, listening to everything he told me as if his word were a divine decree.

It had never occurred to me that one day I might turn against him.

But didn't the Greeks say you had to kill your father to become a man ?

"I can't hurt you", I continued, "And you know that"

I would push him away as many times as I needed to but I wasn't able to hurt him.

"But if you kill him I'll kill Touya"

Whatever his next words were supposed to be I never heard them.

He looked at me quietly as if he were seeing me for the first time.

He knew I'd do it - for that reason alone, he didn't move.

The door to the roof slammed against the cabin wall like a thunderclap.

"Get down, now !"

My father turned his head sharply towards the door.

I stared at him, blood pounding in my ears, blinking frantically until my sharingan deactivated.

I felt dizzy, weak, my thoughts foggy as if I hadn't eaten for days.

"End- Endeavor ?"

There was a clear clang, like metal hitting metal.

I turned to the entrance.

A man on his knees - dressed entirely in grey - had a quivering gun in his hand.

His eyes were fixed on my father as he slowly lowered the weapon.

Suddenly the rain at the level of his face, further to his right, coalesced into a ball of water.

It grew into a man-sized sphere.

The rain falling on it nourished it, accelerating its growth tenfold.

Two dark silhouettes appeared at the heart of the bubble, their outlines becoming firmer as time passed.

The bubble began to twist and turn until it became a water vortex.

Suddenly, two silhouettes emerged from the floating bubble, placing respectively pumps and trainers on the ground.

The one with the trainers was a woman in the same grey outfit as the previous man, her hand resting on her companion's shoulder.

The other, shorter woman, had ashen grey hair and turquoise eyes, with pronounced stress lines at the corners of her eyes and cheeks so puckered she looked like a dog.

"Hawks" she said, opening her eyes again, "I hope this isn't another thing that that damn kid-"

She stopped when she saw us.

Her eyes lingered on me for a second then focused on my father.

"Endeavor", she greeted him.

"President Pantu", he replied evenly.

So she's the President of the Commission.

I had nothing against her personally yet I choose to dislike her because of Hawks.

A few last wisps of white smoke swirled up from the hot roof.

The rain was still pouring.

Her water-green eyes roamed over the roof from left to right.

Her gaze lingered for a moment on the inert form of Dabi, then shifted until it settled on Hawk's body. Her gaze hardened.

"Sila"

The uniformed woman at her side let go of her shoulder and returned in the bubble.

The President turned her attention to my father, face closed.

"Care to tell me what you're doing here ?"

He didn't even bat an eyelid.

"I could ask you the same thing"

They stared at each other, not with hostility but merely with caution.

Technically, the President of the Heroes' Commission was above my father and all the other heroes in the country.

In reality, however, achieving a level of influence and power like Endeavor's gave him privileges equal to, if not greater, than the President's.

He had managed to save Touya from a one-way ticket to Tartarus, despite the Commission's best efforts to prevent it.

His career, which - had it been that of a lesser hero - would have been destroyed by all the scandals I had caused over the previous months was still intact.

"Is that your son I see lying there ?"

Two other people who looked like doctors burst out of the bubble with Sila and ran towards Hawks when she gestured to him.

My father looked at them briefly, as if with regret.

He turned his attention back to the President.

"Hawks tried to kill him"

I knew my father himself knew how fucked up we were.

"Did he ?"

She didn't look the least bit impressed.

"Your son is under house arrest, Endeavor. Aren't you able to keep him on a leash ?"

The doctors hovered around Hawks, taking his vitals and then placing an oxygen mask on his face attached to a plastic bottle.

They pumped steadily as I watched, relieved that someone had taken over.

"You know what this means", the President continued.

My father's muscles tensed and suddenly the air - already hot - became searing.

"We have no idea what has happened here", he said quietly. As far as we know, Hawks could be the one to blame for this"

"As the rules of our agreement have not been respected," she said calmly, "The permission that gave your son the right to stay at home while awaiting trial is null and void"

The temperature rose so quickly I thought I saw my father's skin turn blue.

"We're taking him straight to Tartarus"

*

A/N : I will be out of my country for the next two weeks, thus the upload schedule will change : for public platforms you will get all of your chapters as usual, but for Genin, Chunin and Jonin levels on P@treon you will get, starting from today, all of the chapters provided in the tier + 8 bonus chapters ahead of schedule.

Go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG

 

[Nar_cisse]

There was a long silence.

The rain sizzled above my father and turned to steam before it even hit him.

The doctors were still working on Hawks.

"Or at least he'll go to Tartarus if he doesn't die on the way"

The remark put him on edge.

He clenched his fists, veins throbbing against his forehead and throat, rain turning into hissing drops of steam meters above our heads.

The President looked at him without flinching, yet with one hand she adjusted the collar of her blazer to clear her throat. Drops of sweat trickled down her temples.

I didn't know if my father planned to hit her and I didn't know what to do in the eventuality he did.

My loyalty would compel me to support him, but I was pretty sure that going after the Commission's President was the worst decision we could make.

If the worst happens, Granny will find a way to get us out of the country.

To my surprise, Dad finally pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

Of course, that should have been my first thought - not everything can be solved with violence.

He scrolled through his messages and landed on the one he'd received less than an hour earlier.

"Care to explain ?"

He casually tossed the phone to the President.

She made no move to catch it : Sila's hand suddenly snatched it from the air.

The soldier - henchwoman or whatever - turned the screen towards her boss.

Pantu remained impassive.

"Interesting indeed"

"Did you order the murder of my son ?" my father asked coldly.

"Come on, Endeavor," the President said, "If we had, you know he'd be dead by now"

To my surprise, the heat subsided and my father's skin reverted to human's.

The President's eyes focused on a spot further behind us.

"Is he, by the way ?"

"If it's not you then how did you get here so quickly ?"

Pantu gestured to my father with her chin and Sila threw back his cell phone, which he grabbed without looking.

"Same way you did : we followed the fire"

Suspicious.

And very wrong, especially considering the number of people I could hear talking at the foot of the building.

No one would mobilize that many people this fast for a random fire.

"We all know what happened eleven years ago," the president said. "This isn't the first time your son has tried to deal with Hawks : he just wanted to finish what he started last time"

Dad didn't react.

So he knows that Touya practically roasted Keigo ten years ago, and yet he was willing to kill him...?

If I'd been the one to roast Keigo, he would have protected me as much as he did Touya - if not more.

First a father, then a man and finally a Hero...

"Or Hawks wanted revenge and lured him here by some shady means," Dad replied. "We have no way of knowing what happened until they tell us themselves"

"If they can tell us," the president said calmly. "Shall we ?"

She crossed the roof, hands clasped behind her back, towards Touya.

My father hesitated but eventually followed : I followed at a safe distance, my attention wandering to Keigo now and then.

The president watched Touya impassively, walking past his body and the pools of coagulated blood until she finally stood behind his head.

"He has lost a lot of blood"

Her eyes shone like two jade mirrors, each reflecting Touya's inert body.

"Sila"

The woman conjured another bubble of water and another man, perfectly dry, emerged from the watery womb.

He approached the body and the President raised a hand, her gaze darting to my father; the would-be doctor stood still.

"Despite the unfortunate situation we find ourselves in tonight," Pantu said, "Touya Todoroki still represents a trump card in the capture of All for One. I hope you know that I won't harm him if only because of the strategic importance he holds for us"

"Proceed," my father authorized

Pantu nodded in agreement and motioned for her henchman to get to work.

He crouched down, hands illuminated by a golden light that stretched from Touya's feet to his head.

"Diagnosis", he said.

We waited without a word, the rain filling the silence.

"Is he dead ?", the President asked.

My father tensed and, for a second, I wondered if he would go after Keigo for revenge despite the President's presence - that's what I would have done in his place.

"If he's dead that makes your Hero a murderer," my father spat.

The President's lips tightened.

"The public will never believe that Hawks planned his assassination : your son is still miles away from where he was placed under house arrest. There's every reason to believe he was the one who sought out the confrontation with Hawks"

"He has a traumatic brain injury," the doctor whispered so quietly that only I could hear him. "If I use stimuli..."

Like me, the doctor tried painful stimuli. As before, Touya didn't react.

"As you said yourself," my father added, "We all know what happened eleven years ago. Your Hero may have wanted revenge"

"That still doesn't explain why your son is here"

"Coma"

Everyone fell silent.

"We'd have to do blood tests and an electroencephalogram to be sure," the doctor continued, "But everything indicates that he is in a coma"

I looked up at my father.

His gaze was riveted on Touya, his eyes wide as if he couldn't believe it, his muscles tensed as if he wanted to rush towards him but was forcing himself not to.

I knew what he was saying to himself : he'd lost his son. Again.

I was torn between the pain of seeing my father suffer and the satisfaction of knowing that this was the best case scenario for me.

I hadn't killed him, but the world had gotten rid of Touya for me.

Hawks was alive, too.

Things couldn't have been better.

Dad opened his mouth ; the president cut him off.

"Refusal to have him hospitalized at home"

She tried to hide it, but her irritation and anger were visible.

"He won't go to the Commission," scowled my father.

"I propose a compromise," I said, and the president turned her head toward me as if I were a decorative object that had learned to speak. "A private hospital, which we'll pay for, and daily supervision by the Commission. When he wakes up... we'll deal with that later"

If he wakes up.

The President watched me silently for a moment.

"Endeavor?" she asked.

His gaze hadn't left Touya's sprawled body.

"Isn't there anything we can do ?"

He didn't look at me, but I knew he was talking to me.

"Nothing", the doctor said.

He didn't react.

"I've never heard of anyone with a Quirk being able to bring someone back from a coma," I said.

He nodded three times in a row, his gaze hard, his sadness visible in every crease of his face, every hollow of his wrinkles, every tired inflection of his muscles.

He was so old and frail...

"Dad" I said, "Maybe your career as a Hero-"

Suddenly, my cell phone vibrated against my thigh.

I frowned in surprise as I pulled it out.

Almost all of my contacts were on silent, except in cases of extreme-

My breath caught in my throat.

Uraraka had just sent her geolocation to the entire class followed by three letters : AFO.