Used to the Darkness [MHA x Worm]

[Julius_Garfield]

Tomura Shigaraki was the Symbol of Fear.

The greatest villain in the world, he had brought Hero Society to its knees and was only brought down by the sudden appearance of his equal and opposite. Izuku Midoriya, he was a figure that Tomura hated as much as he adored. Their battle had shaken the foundations of the world, two titans shouldering the legacies of emperors and forging their own legacies in the midst of battle. It was a war that raged from the highest heavens to the deepest depths of Tomura's own soul. Together, they had banished the parasite that attached itself to him and Tomura had admitted his defeat, fading into the great beyond that awaited him.

But that beyond didn't seem so great.

For starters, it smelled like shit.

He looked up, his eyes slowly adjusting as a haze wore off. Last he remembered; he had been giving his archenemy one final smile before his eventual fading into the ether. And now he found himself lying in… a pile of trash. He didn't seem to be hurt rather luckily, but he did feel like he'd been run over by a train. Slowly sitting up, he looked over his hands. They were covered with grime and filth, but they looked… different. Faded and light scars peppered them, barely noticeable in the darkness. He had returned them to an unscarred state close to the climax of his final duel, shedding the monstrous form that his quirks had forced him into and yet scars still remained from before the transformation?

He sat up, the mounds of discarded belongings creaking under him as he moved. He patted himself down, just trying to ensure that he was truly alive. His attention drifted to the clothes he was wearing: a simple black t-shirt, a black hoodie, a pair of black jeans and strangely… a pair of red shoes. Way to ruin a color scheme, huh? The shoes were rather nostalgic though, being rather similar to the ones he wore at the beginning of his career as a villain, and almost a mirror image of the ones worn by his arch-foe.

Not long after, he groggily stood to his feet, wiping off the remnants of trash that had attached themselves to him as he began to make his way out of the alleyway. It seemed to be later in the evening, a full moon already hanging in the air like some cruel hypnotist's pendulum. He pinched himself, just the tiniest bit through his shirt, and felt a rather distinctive sting. This place didn't feel shitty enough to be Hell, and it smelled way too bad to be heaven. His hand traced across the nearby wall, solid brick. He spared a glance upwards; his vision being filled to the brim with windows and fire escape ladders. He was in an alleyway then; his gut hadn't failed him. Alleyways meant he was in a city. A city meant people. Potential allies. Potential enemies.

Well, now what?

His hands ghosted over his pockets once more, feeling a distinctive bump in his right one. Digging into it revealed… a wallet. A pretty nice one too, made of dark leather and seemingly hand stitched. He leafed through it, desperate for some kind of clue towards where exactly he was, towards what exactly had happened. The wallet's contents included: a couple hundred dollar bills, a shitty and bent credit card and… an ID card.

Pulling it from its sheath, he shifted slightly, moving closer towards the light as he attempted to gleam its contents.

"Tenko Shimura, born April 4th, 1995."

What the hell?

He blinked hard, trying to ensure he hadn't misread. It was… his birth name and a date that was almost 200 years before his time. But the strangeness didn't end there, his eyes drifted to the ID's photo. It was… him? The blue-black hair of his youth had seemingly returned, and the wrinkles and scars from his constant itching had seemingly disappeared into thin air. Quickly, rushing around, he managed to find a broken piece of mirror in the trash nearby. Without so much as a second thought, he grabbed it, and looked at himself.

The same blue-black hair. The same lack of scars.

What the hell?!

Shigaraki was quick to recompose himself. Letting his emotions dictate him would surely end in misery as he lashed out. He needed to check something. Dropping the shard of mirror and putting his ID card away, he steadily looked at his trembling hands. With a deep breath, he called upon his powers, just reaching out to see if they were there. He first felt his oldest friend, perhaps the only one he had kept during all these years: Decay. Much of it was still the same, but there was something at its core that made it feel… different. Not necessarily bad though. It simply felt more… whole. He needed to test it, to ensure it was still the same. His hands carefully grasped that same shard of mirror, and he focused on it. In but an instant, his quirk turned it to dust.

It was a small consolation prize, that at least something was the same. But there was an itching feeling at the back of his skull, just goading him into touching it again. He couldn't understand why, but he did, almost as though propelled forward by some imaginary force. His forefinger just barely touched the ash, before his quirk activated once more. As quickly as it had turned to ash, the mirror reconstructed itself, back in the state it had been. Shigaraki could only leap backwards, his hands shaking. His quirk had changed too. He remembered it vaguely, in his last conversation with his parasite of a Sensei. He had cut out the restorative power of his quirk, that it was originally far closer to that of Overhaul. Had it been… restored to its original state? He couldn't linger long on the implications of such a change, for he still had more to focus on. While he had reunited with Decay, two other Quirks lingered deep in his soul.

The first was easy to recognise, with all of its unrestrained greed and malice. All For One, still remained within him. But it was empty. Emptied of the collection of quirks its previous user had spent lifetimes constructing, left little more than a hollow shell. Shigaraki was, of course, still grateful that he had retained it, but it was far less useful than it was before, especially in this low-information environment. He wasn't even sure if there were any Quirks to steal in this place, wherever it was.

The third quirk that he still possessed was nebulous. Unlike Decay and All For One, he couldn't recognise it, and he assumed he couldn't draw upon it either. Still, the Quirk managed to feel cozy, like a proper home. Still, if he couldn't use it, the quirk was as good as useless. He mulled over the information he had so far and found it… sparing. He was alive, he had a handful of quirks, and he was in the past. A total nothingburger in regard to workable info, but still, his body seemed to be teenaged, assuming it was around 14 years old, the year should have been sometime in the 2000s, a primitive time, but one with a very important resource: public libraries.

The ID was labeled for the state of New Hampshire, so he was somewhere in the United States. He had… little idea how he could read or understand English, but that wasn't important. He simply chalked it up to the memories of All for One that had managed to wedge themselves into his conscious after their attempted merging. On unsteady legs he made his way out of the alleyway, the evening steadily giving way to night. Leaning against one of the decrepit buildings of the shithole he'd just managed to climb out of, it finally dawned upon him.

He was alive.

He'd been given a second shot at life by… something. Maybe he'd figure it out, but for now, he was just grateful. He rested there for a second, breathing in the city air, before something caught his attention. A figure in a cape, flying through the sky, waving at civilians as they soared above the streets.

Huh.

There were quirks in this place after all.

---

AN: Fic Idea that took root in my brain like a virus a week or two ago, it's already on SB and AO3, but I'm moving it here too! Hopefully y'all enjoy.

 

[Julius_Garfield]

Scraggy as he looked, Tenko was lucky enough not to catch too many glances from passersby. At this time of day, the streets were winding down, and foot traffic was becoming less and less common. For a while, he wandered, unsure of where exactly he was going before he luckily stumbled upon a local tourist office. The place was beatdown and in rather obvious disrepair, but the lights were on, and someone was behind the counter. Wordlessly, Tenko walked in, grabbing one of the assorted tourist maps from a nearby stand, mouthing off a quiet "Thanks" to the man behind the desk, who was currently to deeply invested in whatever newspaper he was reading to pay any attention to the person who had just wandered into his store. The only acknowledgement of existence he even received was a simple, guttural grunt.

With that, Tenko was able to quickly locate the Central Library, and from reading a nearby street sign, exactly how far away he was from it. It was quite a walk, but it would be worth it. One foot after another, Tenko slowly tracked down his destination, sparing a few glances at some of the landmarks the tourist map had marked down along the way. It was then it became apparent just how outdated the map was. Several landmarks were missing, destroyed or built over, much to his annoyance. He could only hope that the library the map was leading to hadn't been paved over too.

At the very least, while his physique seemed a few years younger, it was still in top shape. He could feel it, with each movement of muscle and breath he exhaled, this was the body adapted to hold the quirks of All For One, merely more... youthful, to put it kindly. Still, it was adequate for the increasingly long and winding walk he went through the empty city. He stayed in the shadows and away from any groupings of people he could find before finally, he saw the library, towering over most other buildings in the area.

Quietly, he moved towards and opened the door. At this time, most of the library's inhabitants had ditched the place, but there was still a rather kindly looking old lady manning the desk. She looked up from her desktop, and smiled at the new arrival, nodding towards him as she spoke.

"Bit late dearie, you alright?"

"I'm fine, just looking for the computers in this place."

"Just round the back sweetheart."

He nodded his thanks as he walked off, a strange feeling welling in his stomach. His voice came out differently too. It was a tone that somehow straddled the line between the shrieks of his early career and the deeper, more imposing voice of his career as Symbol of Fear. It was the voice of a teenaged Tenko Shimura, and he wasn't sure if he liked it all that much. Still, he followed her instructions, and happened upon the computers of the library, luckily bereft of any line due to how late it was. Pulling up a chair, Tenko's hands took off. A keyboard was a natural environment for his fingers, and he had developed a rather quirky typing style to both preserve speed and prevent himself from turning the keyboard into ash while he still had more middling control over Decay. Even now that such a style was unnecessary, he still took it up when typing mindlessly.

The first search was simple: What is Today's Date? The answer he received in response was equally simple, yet nonetheless stupefying, April 4th 2011. He really had been flung back to the era of the Dinosaurs.

The next search query was a bit more complex. He had an ID card, so he had to be on government record somewhere. The New Hampshire government site was his second search, and an archaic looking website slowly popped into view. It was like a technological labyrinth, yet it still likely held a wealth of information for him. His eyes glanced over the tab labeled "Abandoned Property", as he opened it in a new tab, planning to read it for later. For now, he needed to learn more about the body he was inhabiting. From what little he could find, this Tenko was ethnically Japanese, and listed as such in the census data, yet that was about where records ended. No parents on file, no criminal record, nothing. It was frustrating. Still, this frustration handed him nothing. The next thing he had to search up though was perhaps the most important: Quirks.

No results. Well, no actually relevant results.

There were a handful of shitty, ad infested quizzes to find out what "personality quirks" or "typing quirks" you had, but aside from that, nothing. With a frown, he switched to the more archaic term, swiftly typing in "Meta-Ability." That seemed to register something, as a handful of translated articles and Web Serials popped up using the term as a seemingly flowery way to describe "Superpowers." No academic papers using the term, but whatever. Typing in "Superpowers" was what gave him the biggest cache of resources.

The first result was a site called "Parahumans Online", seemingly a combined forum and wiki of sorts. Tenko rather luckily had extensive experience with Forums and the like, so compared to that hellscape of a government site, navigating this place was as easy as stealing candy from a baby. He needed to start somewhere, so he began reading over the basic lingo of the world he had found himself in.

Many terms were one to one with ones he already knew, Parahumans and Quirk Users for one. Yet, the history of this world was markedly different. An often referred to documentary on the site was luckily available for free on the web, and watching through it gave Tenko a comical amount of information. This world *was* Earth, merely a very different one. Quirks (or, "Superpowers", as the people around here liked to call them), had appeared alongside the sudden discovery of that Golden Man above the Atlantic Ocean. Heroes and Villains had arisen, yet society had not fallen into total disarray, as in his world.

There was still a society of heroes as in his Earth, but they lacked a unifying Symbol of Peace. The closest they had was this so-called "Triumvirate", three heads where there should have only been one. The most prolific "villains" he could find were barely better than roving gangs of marauders or scheming criminal overlords. No true grandiosity in their actions or designs. This was a dynamic that was still burgeoning, just waiting to bubble over into the anarchy that his Sensei had taken advantage of in the past. Perhaps the greatest show of this was the fact that the Quirkless still made up the vast majority of society. An era not unlike the one his Sensei had grown up in.

It was as disgusting as it was beautiful.

A society in which he could rise to the top as the greatest villain? The first true villain? Part of that messaging spoke to Tomura, stroking his ego. A chance to utterly and finally surpass his Sensei.

Yet before that could begin, there was still more research to be done.

Cape culture, Power classifications, Hero and Villain names, secret identities. It all piled up slowly but surely as Tenko voraciously consumed any and all information he could find. That was until, the kindly old lady manning the desk interrupted him by tapping him on the shoulder. In an instant, Tomura sprung back, his palm aimed at her as though he might release a gust of wind with Air Cannon, before reality swiftly set in. Air Cannon was lost. He looked like a fool. Coughing into his palm, he apologized.

"Sorry for that, you came out of nowhere."

"Oh, it's my fault dearie, I just came to inform you that we're closing up in about an hour, so you best finish up whatever it is you're looking at!"

For an instant, he considered using Decay, decimating this whole library and eliminating any evidence of his embarrassment, before he dissmissed the idea and she shimmied off.

Left alone and still reeling, reality dawned upon Tomura yet again.

He was homeless, wasn't he?

His limited records listed no place of residence, so he was most likely nothing but a mere vagrant. Even if he wasn't, he had no idea where this home would even be. Yet he swiftly caught himself, remembering the tab he had saved much earlier in the night: unclaimed property. Navigating to it, he rushed past the multitude of lost possessions and abandoned baubles to look for abandoned land, homes, anything that could provide sustained shelter for what he assumed would be an unusually long stay in this place.

The Docks, a portion of the city he remembered reading about on the map, was luckily chock full of abandoned property, many of the owners in the area renouncing ownership or plainly ignoring the area due to the growing filth that infested it. Further research revealed the exact reason for this: gangs. Squatters and criminals seemed to infest the area like termites according to some of the more sensationalist websites Tenko visited, though he doubted their veracity.

Eventually, he stumbled upon an area he liked, close to the center of the docks, with a litany of abandoned apartments within it, with bus stops a close enough walk away that would connect it to the rest of the city, and rather important: it was close to a High School, Winslow High to be specific. Tenko had learned rather quickly that this was a world in which Heroes pounced upon Villains like tigers. If they even so much as caught a whiff of his identity, he doubted he'd get a day of sleep ever again. So, he needed an alibi, a "real life" to use as a cover, as an excuse and a high school was simply perfect for that. He had hoped to apply to the alternate school of Arcadia, only to see its web search clogged up with constant articles and posts about how long the waiting list for the place was, not to mention the fact that it was an open secret that at least a handful of the local "Wards" attended the school.

A couple more clicks showed that he, as a homeless child, was entitled to education. Can you imagine? It was truly a wonderful cascade of law and location. So, opening up the Winslow High website, a rather slow loading and barely acceptable thing, he hurriedly filled out an application explaining his less than fortunate situation. It was the middle of the Semester, but he was sure that he could hash something out, no matter how much paperwork it took. He just hoped that they could process the request in a rather timely manner.

Slowly standing up from his position, Tenko felt content with his works. He had a plan and the means to achieve it. Now, he just had to get his hands on somewhere to li-

His stomach grumbled loudly, interrupting his train of thought.

Something to eat wouldn't hurt either.

 

[Julius_Garfield]

There were quite a few things on Tenko's mind as he left the library, heading straight towards what he planned to take as his new home. Chief among them being money. In the world he came from, Money was no object, what with All For One's endless pockets, but now it was something he very much had to worry about. With the newly changed decay he could probably produce counterfeit dollars, but he doubted his control over the ability was refined enough for it to mean anything on a large scale.

A light drew his attention, a diner that seemed to still be open. It didn't seem to be a big-name fast-food chain, rather one of those generically named "Chicken Shops" that tended to crop up. All For One had carefully regulated Tenko's diet during his time under him, to put it lightly, yet he had always retained a love for grease-infested slop, and it looked this store would fulfill that hankering perfectly.

He barged his way in, dug into his wallet, and sauntered over to the front desk. He could already feel his patience wearing thin and his mood souring. His eyes analysed the menu in under a minute, settling upon a burger and fries combo that looked just perfect enough to settle his growing hunger. Without so much as a word, he pulled out a 20-dollar bill, and planted it flat on the counter, his eyes locking with the person manning the register.

"Number 4."

The man behind the counter seemed to squirm just a little bit, perhaps he thought the messy looking Tenko was a gangbanger. If only he knew. Still, he took the bill, handed Tenko his check and got to work on his food. Tenko could only take a seat and tap away at the table, the only noise the shuffling of the man behind the counter and Tenko's own incessant tapping, a constant noise that just barely kept him from going mad due to the hunger.

That was, until a pair of masked men barged into the joint, brandishing guns at that. He could just barely hear them whispering to one another as they barged in.

"Ain't this place in Lung's territory Joe?"

"Stop being such a fucking pussy man! And don't use my real name either!"

Joe, as Tenko now knew he was called, stepped forward, clearly the braver of the pair. He aimed his gun at the man behind the counter. Before yelling out.

"Hand over the register and nobody gets hurt, old man! This is a stick-up!"

He moved closer to the counter, inching towards the cash register. The other man, still unnamed in Tenko's mind, aimed his gun at the teenager. He was the more craven of the two from a glance, but that didn't mean he didn't feel big when he had a gun in his hands. He glowered at the unbothered Tenko, still tapping away at the table.

"Put your hands in the air kid. We don't want this confrontation to get messy, eh?"

Tenko's tapping finally came to a stop, as he slowly turned around to face the man brandishing a gun at him. The gunman kept up eye contact, staring at the younger man dead in the eyes. It was a stand-off it seemed, and Tenko moved first.

In an instant, his hand wrapped around the barrel of the gun, and reduced the entire construction to ash before a single bullet could even be fired. He ensured that the Decay wouldn't spread to the man's hands, he wasn't trying to catch a body on his first day in this hostile world after all. The gunman's eyes widened behind his mask, just in time for his nose to meet Tenko's fist. The impact rang out like a gunshot, as the man was put flat on his back, slamming into the tiled floor of the joint.

Joe snapped around after hearing the commotion, and upon seeing Tenko standing over his suddenly downed friend, opened fire. The first few bullets just barely missed him, careening out of the way and shattering the windows close to the door, but the final one caught him right in the ribs. Tenko was forced stumbling backwards, as the searing pain spread throughout his abdomen.

Still, he didn't lose his footing. He had experience with pain, and experience with pushing through it. A gun wound was nothing too major, or atleast he hoped. The teenage stood up straight, the hole in which the bullet had lodged itself still bleeding as he took one carefully placed step after another towards the remaining gunman, his hand outstretched. He could see the fear begin to creep into Joe's eyes, his grip on the pistol he brandished only becoming more and more shaky in the face of the advancing Tomura. In the end, the man could do nothing but faint, falling over limp in Tenko's presence. Tenko himself let out a deep and long hiss, the pain from the bullet still apparent as he waddled his way over to the counter. He knocked the countertop, dragging the shopkeeper out of his entranced watching of the fiasco that had engulfed his shop.

"Where's my damn burger."

-

Tenko Shimura was in high spirits after the brawl at the burger shop, as he was now scarfing down a meal that would certainly kill anyone younger than ten. The burger he had got for his troubles tasted all the sweeter, almost allowing him to push through the pain of the bullet still wedged within his torso. He was going to get rid of it of course, but he couldn't do it just anywhere. He wanted to do it in what would be his new home.

Speaking of said new home, the most promising candidate he had found so far quickly came into view. He had surmised from the few lightbulbs he could see still flickering that this area, despite its abandonment, still received power. Likely due to all the bureaucratic red tape the company supplying the area would have to cut through to stop. That alone made this place pretty valuable, but it was also rather close to one of the few non-abandoned bus stops in the Docks, one that would pretty comfortably get him to Winslow.

So, perusing the blocks in the dead of the night, he eventually settled upon an abandoned warehouse. It was inconspicuous enough, and pushing open the heavy-set doors, he found it utterly abandoned, with the exception of quite a few small critters.

In all honesty, there was something else Tenko was here for: to test his own powers. He knew that Decay now had the ability that was stripped from it: to restore and reshape what was broken. Yet, he had no experience with such a thing. So, he wanted to try his hand at using his Quirk to entirely renovate the place. It would serve as good training to get used to this place, and the changes in his quirk he thought but before he could get to renovating the warehouse for his own needs, he needed to deal with another renovation.

The one about the bullet still lodged in his ribs.

Shigaraki always had a tolerance for pain, he wouldn't have been able to go blow-to-blow with Eraserhead or Gigantomachia if he didn't, but it seemed this younger body he found himself in was also less resilient. Still strong enough to walk away with a bullet hole in his side, but damn did it fucking hurt. Slowly, he leaned against one of the cleaner walls and placed his hand over the wound. He focused, closing his eyes, as he recalled the feeling of restoring the shard of mirror, he had broken out in the alleyway hours before. He felt it slowly, a searing pain in his side as his body was deconstructed, not at all elegant in the way Super Regeneration had been, but just as the pain became unbearable, it stopped.

He opened his eyes, his brow thick with sweat as he looked down to his hand. The wound had been perfectly closed, and the bullet now sat right within Shigaraki's palm. So, he could heal himself with his quirk, he simply needed to figure out how to make the process not as… excruciating.

Still, he needed a place to sleep for now, so, stepping out into the darkened streets he searched for any trashed mattresses he could find. Luckily for Tenko, abandoned furniture seemed rather common in this neck of the woods. He found what was sure to be his bounty: a mattress stained brown and yellow, likely by a mixture of substances Tenko didn't even want to think about. Keeping a tenuous but consistent grip, he slowly dragged the soiled mattress back into the warehouse he had chosen with himself, dropping it with a hearty thud on a cleared-out space.

Rubbing his hands together, Tenko carefully placed his palm on top of the mattress, attempting to ignore the grossness of it all. A breath in, a breath out. He imagined a white fluffy mattress, made of memory foam even. A perfect bed for him, perhaps even a bed and duvet included.

Below him, he felt the mattress change and shift, its form changing to his will.

Well, not to his will exactly.

Opening his eyes, he found the bed had been disassembled into white ash.

At least he got the color right.

 

[Julius_Garfield]

Tenko's battle against the mattress had finally ended in victory, after a struggle that lasted an embarrassing amount of time into the night. He'd even got a (wobbly) frame and a (too thin) duvet for it. Once his victory was assured, he collapsed into it and drifted into sleep almost instantly after. He didn't even bother to clean up the rest of this horrid warehouse.

By the time he woke up, it was the afternoon of the next day, based purely on the angle sunlight was entering his new home. Swinging his feet from the bed, he put on his shoes and began to ponder about what exactly needed to be done today. The most prevalent thing to be done was to clean up this damnable warehouse, but he was sure that was going to be a multi-weeklong effort. It was best to focus his energies on his continuing cover story for today and then switch back to making this place rather homely.

His shoes crunched over broken glass and dislodged brick as he made his way to the door, which he once again pushed open with some effort. He had forgotten to lock it last night; he was lucky nobody stumbled upon him in his pristine bed. He made a mental note of the lack of a note and began the jog towards the library to continue his online research, and check-in with the progress of his application to attend a local school.

A lock was something he wanted to attempt after a bit more practice with his Quirk, so for now, he was just prying some vagrant wouldn't try and steal the very nice bed he had spent a few hours working on. With that, he began the rather long jog towards the Central Library. The jog was rather nice, if you excluded the rather aggressive glares, he got from smoking gangbangers or the homeless wandering the region. It was good exercise too, familiarizing himself with the area by jogging through it.

In no time, he found himself back at the library, pushing through its front doors and aiming right for the computers. The kindly old lady of last night was gone, a rather gruff looking man in his place. He barely even acknowledged Tenko as he passed by. Stepping once more towards the computers, he found something that wasn't there the last time he had swung around: a line. It stretched on for ages, a whole gaggle of people currently waiting for one of the computers to open up. He had no choice but to be patient, a skill he had rather luckily acquired during his former career as a villain.

Still, the line seemed to take an eternity to finally reach him. In fact, it was mostly due to the lunch rush of the day that allowed the thinning out of the line. He was finally able to take his seat at one of the computers, right next to a rather thin looking girl. Glasses sat rather awkwardly on her head, framed by her curly black hair. Much like the librarian out in the front, she seemed far too engrossed in whatever she was doing to notice Tenko, and that fit him just fine.

First thing to do was check the email he had registered yesterday and see if there were any responses from Winslow. A couple of clicks revealed the answer: they had messaged him back, likely rather desperate not to break a law by accident. They were legally obligated to take him in it seemed, though they weren't in any state to provide shelter. He let out a click of the tongue, at the very least they were quick about it. Still, they made it apparent that all he had to do was drop by for a short interview, to get all his personal details and ensure that he was actually a real person. Easy enough, he swiftly typed up a response email: he'd swing by the school later this very day for the interview, probably in a couple of hours.

He'd chosen Winslow for a multitude of reasons, compared to Arcadia, it was far less noisy, not too many people wanted to attend the rinky-dink little place. There was also the fact that Tenko was simply… curious. Under the authoritarian gaze of All for One, he never had classmates, always personal tutors or destructive training sessions. He wanted to see what a real High School was like, even with all of its dirt and grime.

With that done, he turned his attention back to research. He had done some the day before, but it was as wide as it was shallow. Today, he was going to focus on one thing and one thing only: the powers of this world. He could feel All for One itching in his palms whenever he saw a picture or video, the greedy Quirk that it was. Parahumans Online was once again his best friend, as he looked through the Power Classifications that the PRT had set up. In his old world, the only Quirk Classifications were rather simple: Emitter, Transformation and Mutant, though some would argue Accumulation was its own type.

The PRT seemingly had similar classifications. Their equivalent of Mutants seemed to be Case 53s, Transformation was roughly equivalent to Breakers and Emitter covered the rest. He wondered, how would he as he was at the peak of his power during the War be classified by the system. A part of him thought about it for a second, before realizing how derailing such an exercise would be, he'd simply be sitting here all day counting off the Quirks formerly stored within All for One and classifying each one. He eventually simply chalked it up to the idea he'd score a 10 in each power category and moved on.

More interesting to him, however, was this so-called "Manton Effect."

It was a rather interesting phenomenon, that the powers of this world (excluding rather specific circumstances), could only affect either organic material or inorganic material. Decay rather handily flew in the face of that, as did multiple other Quirks that he knew of. It would give him an edge within fights then, his opponent likely expecting his Decay and reconstruction to break the ground beneath them, rather than spread across their body like a plague. This power of his really was lethal, eh?

Tenko was about to return to his spree of browsing, when the girl next to him stood up straight, clearly rather distraught. She spilled a couple of things on the desk, and a notebook fell straight out of her bag. Tenko raised an eyebrow, as she seemingly quickly began to head for the doors, leaving her notebook in the dust. He was planning on doing a bit more research today, but this was fine enough. He might as well return whatever it was the girl had dropped before, she disappeared.

Scooping up the notebook and closing his tabs, Tenko began to chase after the now speed-walking girl, his stride following after her rather carefully. She was a few feet away from him now, outside of the library, when he let out a little shout.

"Hey! You dropped your notebook!"

The girl froze up in an instant, standing to attention. She slowly turned around, to see the approaching Tenko, Notebook in hand.

"Y-you didn't open it did you?"

"Huh? Nah."

"Oh, well, thank you for returning it, but I have to run. I'm almost late for my bus!" She turned on her heel, barely giving Tenko any time to register her running away from him. He clicked his tongue yet again, what was all the rush about, huh?

"People really are such a pain."

-

Today wasn't even close to one of the worst days of Taylor Hebert's life, but it was almost certainly one of her most stressful.

During her morning jog, she had almost veered off into ABB territory. Later, the trio almost found her hiding spot in the bathrooms during lunch, and most recently, she almost lost her notebook on the floor of the Central Library due to her rush not to get back to school late. It had only been thanks to a kind samaritan (who she had rather awkwardly shrugged off), that the thing wasn't rotting in the library's Lost and Found bin, just waiting to be picked up by anybody curious and blow all her plans to hell.

Still, she had for the most part made it through the day. She sat now in Mr Quinlan's math class. He was prattling on about Quadratic equations, though she doubted that anyone was really listening. It was in the middle of this, that Mr Gladly peeked his head through the door and spoke up.

"Taylor, could you come here for a minute?"

Instantly, she could hear The Trio at the front of the class erupt into giggles and whispers, her cheeks and ears felt like they were about to burst into flames as she was pulled right out of the class. She dragged herself to her feet, and out of the class, silently closing the door behind her as Mr Quinlan continued his rant, now muffled by the door.

She turned to Mr. Gladly rather slowly and it rather quickly became apparent he had someone else with him.

The Good Samaritan she had bumped into at the library.

"Taylor, this here is Tenko Shimura, he'll be attending the school from tomorrow. I was hoping you'd be up to take him on a tour around the school?" Mr Gladly said it like a suggestion, but Taylor knew what it really was. An order. He lips furrowed as she pretended to think it over, before she spoke again.

"Sure."

"Excellent! Tenko, this here's Taylor Hebert. For roughly the next hour and a half, you'll be in her hands."

"No problem."

Mr Gladly looked rather content with himself, as he walked back to whatever business he had to deal with, leaving Taylor with the new arrival. Huh.

This was really, rather awkward.

---

AN: Sorry for the massive gap between chapter uploads, I legitimately just forgot to move everything over from AO3/SB and kept on delaying it.

 

[Julius_Garfield]

"Hey, you're the girl who dropped her notebook at the library aren't you?"

Taylor could feel the hairs stand up on her skin. It had only been a few hours ago, hadn't it? Of course, he still remembered her. She spoke up in response, her tongue feeling as heavy as lead within her mouth.

"Yeah, thanks for helping me out."

"It was no problem; you seemed in quite a rush though. Late to a class?"

"Yeah."

Their conversation ended pretty abruptly with that, her simply gesturing at Tenko to follow after her. She took the time walking through rather unimportant hallways to get a look at the boy. He was tall, probably an inch or so taller than Taylor was and rather wiry too. Yet, it wasn't in the gangly way that she was, rather he looked more slim than stick-thin. His hair was messy and black, but under some of the school's lighting she could have sworn that it was instead rather blue.

His face was rather interesting too, she noted as she snuck glances at it. If she had one word to describe it, it would probably be well-proportioned. Blue-gray eyes seemed to shimmer in the light as he looked around. He was rather obviously of some vague Asian descent, though it wasn't really her place to guess around on where exactly his family had originated from. A small mole rested right underneath his lip, framed by a couple of very faded scars on his face, one on the lip and one under his right eye.

He seemed to notice her gawking, his eyes drifting from staring at one of the more decorated lockers in the school back and over to her. She couldn't get a read on him, his eyes giving away no real info before he spoke.

"Are you like, a model student around here?"

"No, not really."

"Huh, then why'd Mr. Gladly pick you out?"

Taylor's ears felt as though they might burst into flames, as she shied away from Tenko's curious face. She took a second to recompose herself after such a blunt question. At the very least, he didn't seem to mean any harm by it.

"Mr. Gladly probably just knew how long I've been at the school is all, I know the place pretty well."

"Huh, guess I'm pretty lucky that I got you as a guide then."

He gave her a small smirk, to which she could only just barely return in kind. It was a small interaction, but Taylor at least hoped the surface of what she saw represented the whole, that Tenko Shimura was a rather nice person.

As she led him through the halls and towards the art room, she managed to work up the courage to ask him a question. If she could get the ball rolling, then she would probably be able to actually converse with him without wanting to curl up into a ball and disappear down a well. So, she took a leap of faith.

"So Tenko, where did you attend before you came here?"

He seemed to mull over the answer before he answered.

"I was homeschooled back in Japan. My sensei kept a rather strict schedule."

"Really? What changed?"

"He died."

Oh.

Great going Taylor, you managed to accidentally strike a nerve. A dead guardian. A sort of morbid humor gripped her soul at that moment, she could at least relate to such an experience. Still, she had to keep the talk going, lest the awkwardness of it all subsume them totally. She didn't want to let the conversation die and be reduced to simply rattling off the names of classrooms and teachers like some sort of robot, so like any good person, she apologised.

"Sorry for asking."

"Don't worry about it, the old man was an asshole."

He waved her off, like it was nothing major. She could feel her lips turned a bit downwards at that, at how flippant his dismissal was. She couldn't tell exactly what prompted such a reaction, just that it made her feel… rather uneasy. A spark of curiosity spurred her on, when she probably should have left the discussion at that, she regretted the word almost the instant they spilled from her mouth.

"How bad was he?"

"Bad enough that I sure didn't cry when he bit the dust. I'm grateful to him for a lot though, even if he was looney." Tenko put his finger up to his head, tracing circles in the air next to it.

Taylor could barely suppress her giggle at the movement, even if the subject matter was rather grim. Tenko's form of grim levity seemingly spread like a virus. Still, she suppressed her prospective laughter to continue speaking, hopeful that she had finally found her footing in the conversation.

"So, why Winslow? Why not Arcadia?"

"Line was too long. It's all the way downtown too."

Taylor Hummed. She'd often dreamed about transferring to Arcadia, and the incredible waitlist was often the greatest force she faced in the way. Though, she could feel a gnawing feeling deep within her gut. Tenko was so full of... hope. The reality of Winslow was far more crushing, cliques that were near impossible to penetrate and gangs around every corner.

"Y'know Tenko, you should probably keep an eye out."

"Hm? For what?"

"There's a gang that hangs around these areas. The Azn Bad Boys. They tend to pressure Asian students towards joining, and from what I've heard they aren't exactly subtle about it."

"Huh, you've got some nasty gangs in America too, huh? Well then, thanks for the heads up then Herbert."

She winced slightly. He'd mispronounced her name already.

"It's really no fuss, it's just that… Winslow isn't exactly the best place in the city. I felt that you should know that."

Tenko nodded, as their tour steadily came to an end, the pair looping back around to the math class she had been so abruptly pulled out of. With a small wave, she stepped away, leaving Tenko on his lonesome as she wormed her way back into the class. Rather luckily, it seemed that Mr. Quinlan had wrapped the class up in a rather daunting math problem, allowing her to head back to her seat effectively unnoticed.

She sighed as she slid back into her seat, the miasma of student life once more consuming her.

-

Tenko Shimura's tour through Winslow had revealed quite a few things.

First, that there was already a pre-eminent gang in this neck of the woods: The ABB. If Miss Herbert was to be believed, they'd probably be knocking on his doorstep any day now. He needed to do more research on their members, see if they had any Parahumans among them that could pose a threat to him as he was now.

But in regard to the school itself, it was simply… passable. Not particularly filthy, nor particularly exceptional. It was a school that faded into the background almost entirely, which made it the perfect cover for Tenko's civilian life. Walking away from Herbert's class, he headed back to Gladly's office, now vacant of whatever business had been occupying it. Gladly's face beamed at his re-entrance, seemingly rather eager to take in a new student. Tenko guessed it was for positive PR. I mean, could you imagine the headlines? "Winslow High takes in a starving vagrant problem child, a true show of compassion!" It was bubbly enough to make him puke.

"Welcome back Tenko, I hope Taylor was able to guide you rather well."

"She did a fine job Mr. Gladly."

"Excellent! And by the way, call me Mr. G, Mr. Gladly is my father."

Tenko gave an empty nod as he sat down in one of the rather large and comfy lounge chairs within the office, almost sinking into it.

"Miss Hebert's had some problems with making friends this year you see; I was hoping you'd be able to get to know each other. She could really use a companion or two this semester, y'know?"

Another rather empty nod from Tenko. So, she'd been selected for her status as a loner, huh? He guessed it made sense; she was a classic bookworm. Most bookworms normally had good grades to show for it though. Maybe the semester's pressure was really ramping up, and that knocked her from her position at the top of the class? She seemed pretty sharp, from their short conversation.

He eventually came back to reality and realized that Gladly had been speaking the entire time. He simply hoped that he hadn't missed out on any really vital information while he was zoned out. Gladly clasped his hands, leaning over his desk.

"So, when will you be available to start at Winslow?"

"Probably by the start of next week, I need some more time to settle in and prepare."

"Just know, we're here to support you every step of the way Mr. Shimura."

"Gotcha, thanks Mr. Gladly."

Tenko stood from his comfy seat, his finger tracing its outskirt. He had to keep its shape and composition in mind, he'd try and make a replica once he got back to his ramshackle home. He gave a nod to Mr. Gladly, before stepping out of his office. Classes were still in session, and it was about then that Tenko realized he'd have to get a watch too, if only to keep accurate track of time. Waking up without an alarm clock or trying to track how much longer he had during break would be a nightmare without one.

He stepped out of Winslow's wide doors; he simply took it all in once again. The simple pleasures of being alive, free of the constant itches and allergies that Decay had formerly caused him, about to take back just a little of the youth that All for One had stolen. If Herbert was to be believed, then the ABB was going to be knocking on his door any day now.

They'd have to be the first jewel in his crown then.

 

[Julius_Garfield]

The Journal of Tomura Shigaraki, Wednesday 6th April 2011.

I've acquired a mostly in good shape Notebook and far more beaten-up pencil for the purpose of chronicling the new life with which I've been gifted, and to make notes on my, as of right now, non-existent menagerie of quirks. I'll upgrade to a pen… eventually.

Winslow High was… satisfactory. As an educational institution, there's little to be said about it. The students seemed to be rather unenthused, with what little I saw of them, and their teachers rather overworked. Gladly almost seemed delighted at the news I wouldn't be enrolling with them instantly, as though some invisible weight had been taken off his shoulders. A part of me is rather excited at the prospect of High School, even if my better judgment tells me about how dreary the entire experience is almost certain to be. Still, it will be a dreary experience that I chose for myself.

Through luck, I managed to survive two nights without a padlock, but that mistake has been rather curtly rectified. I as of yet do not trust my ability to construct a padlock from scratch, so instead, I bought a rather cheap one from a store only a few blocks away. I thought about using my power to reinforce it but decided against it. It's a rather unwieldy way of securing a door, but it serves its purpose well enough.

Beyond that however is my recent experiments with my Quirk. I've discovered that much like how my Decay can spread from object to object; the restorative effects of my power can similarly spread. As of right now, I'm unsure of if it needs a damaged medium to spread or can just spread through about anything.

Still, I'm rather excited for the future.

Tomura Shigaraki, signing off.


Thursday 7th April, 2011.

Perhaps it was my fascination with how Decay has changed that allowed me to ignore it, but my current home is to be frank, a shithole. Cracks in the walls, rats everywhere… there's just no other word for it but shitty. So, I took the first few steps to rectifying that. Using my power to clean is easier than expected, the muck and grime can be transformed into the material it's grown upon and used to seal cracks and the like.

I've "borrowed" a few pieces of discarded furniture from the surrounding trash heaps, and now they're good as new, though they all seem to turn out a blistering white. I had the most trouble with the lounge chair I brought in though, kept trying to make it like the one Gladly had in his office and it kept coming out a misshapen mess. I've got something workable now, but it still looks like one of those shitty modern art pieces. Comfortable as hell though.

Beyond that however, I had a rather interesting trip to the library today. Rather than beeline straight to the computer as I've tended to do these past few days, I took today to read through books on human biology. All For One had given me a rather useful if shallow education on the subject, mostly relegated to recognising poisons and where vital organs to target lied, but beyond that my knowledge is lacking. My healing myself from that bullet wound was a stroke of luck, and I would do well not to rely too much on it.

Tomura Shigaraki, signing off.


Friday 8th April, 2011

A rather strange, albeit useful, encounter happened to me today. The "Azn Bad Boys" that Herbert mentioned to me last Tuesday finally appeared, a pair of rather young-looking thugs with barbed-wire bats and fancy masks. They seemed to have spotted me, either on one of my morning jogs, or during one of my forays to the library. From just the two of them, the gang didn't seem particularly impressive compared to what I've encountered. They tried to impress me at first, boasting about how they have a whole three (3) parahumans and up to fifty (50) members.

I responded to their incessant yapping with a nasty look and silence.

From there, they switched tactics, threatening whatever family I had, my livelihood, my life… really it was a rather cliched attempt at cowing me into submission. So, I beat both of them up, the first one fell like a sandbag after I punched him in the liver, the other fell right alongside him after a kick to the head. As a first experience of the ABB, I was rather unimpressed. I can only hope that the three (3!) parahumans that lead the organization were more impressive.

Tomura Shigaraki, signing off.


Saturday 9th April, 2011

I've made a rather incredible breakthrough. I've found that changing something into a state that it used to be is far easier than it is to change them into something they never were, so I attempted this on myself. Surely, if Sensei were alive, he'd be screeching in my ear at such a plan, but he isn't!

Still, my gamble found me success, great success even. With a great deal of strain on my own body, I can change into a state that more resembles my physique during the battle with Re-Destro. My hair finds itself the light blue it formerly was, and my physique in general seems to become a good deal tighter, I even grow a few inches. Sadly, it comes with the downside of those accursed itches and scars returning full force.

It's a painful and rather slow process, but not a terribly difficult one. Perhaps my mind and Quirk just sees it as "restoring my body to its original state." Yet, returning to the dark-haired, smaller body I woke up in is just as easy, if just as painful. Perhaps further studying of biology would allow for this transition to be far less stressful.

In other news, my lack of kitchen and shower is rapidly becoming more of a rather annoying constraint. Perhaps I should just figure out how to clean myself with my Quirk, that would be a fine enough substitute, right?

Tomura Shigaraki, signing off.


Sunday 10th April, 2011

I'd like to iron out any kinks in the process of transitioning between "Tenko Shimura" and "Tomura Shigaraki" before I move on with attempts to alter my body further. After a few more times doing it, the pain has become far less overwhelming, though it is still noticeable. Still, I don't need the transformation to be perfect for my debut as a villain, just good enough to ensure that no links can be drawn between my two appearances.

Names have never been my strong suit, and all the ideas I've come up with have either been rather uninspired (Decay?) or too derivative (All For One?). Perhaps the wisest decision as of current is to keep Tenko Shimura as my civilian identity and make Tomura Shigaraki into my villain name. Though, the people of this world don't seem too keen on long names, for all I know they might just crush it down into one name. Eugh.

Despite my current lack of a "true" villain name however, a costume wasn't too hard to assemble. Grabbing assorted scraps of clothing was easy enough, and through my Quirk I was able to create something rather serviceable. A red trench coat, over a black shirt and black pants, capped off with a pair of black boots.

What was both most difficult, and most surprising however, was the mask I created. I simply used whatever trash of about the right size I could find and envisioned a hand. I intended it to be modeled after Father's hand, or even Grandmother's. Simply something that I could vividly remember.

I did, in fact, get something rather vivid.

A blackened hand, larger than either that of Grandmother's or Father's, with a hole resting in its palm.

Even now, I cannot escape th-

Tenko's thought process was interrupted by a sudden boom from outside, followed by a bright light. An explosion had erupted from outside. Silently, he moved to the window, his eyes barely piercing through the muck covered windows and pitch-black darkness to see a man half-covered in scales.

Lung.

He could just barely make it out from the tattoos still visible on his as of yet unarmored skin, comparing it to the grainy photos he had seen of the Yakuza boss rather recently. He was far more impressive in person, even from this middling vantage point.

A roar emerged from Lung's smoking form, almost threatening to knock Tenko back from where he sat. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn that Gigantomachia had managed to crawl his way out of his grave. Lung continued to burn rather brightly; the occasional bolt of fire emerging from him aiming at some yet unseen target. His body changed all the while, becoming more bestial as the flames continued to consume him.

Part of Tenko wanted to get out there, to see exactly what the burning man could do, but the more rational section of his mind walled that off. That fire would be a pain in the ass to deal with without some sort of Regeneration Quirk.

He watched, as Lung leaped a few stories to a building just down the street, searching for whatever foe he seemed to be locked in a duel with. His angle for watching the fight wasn't good for much, only the occasional torrent of flame or a strand of light being reflected off Lung's metallic scales. It seemed like the battle was sputtering out, that was until a shape Tomura could barely register went barreling into Lung from nowhere, the pair's collision with the ground sending out an audible boom in all directions.

It took Tomura a moment to register just exactly how much of a boon this was.

The superhumans of this world weren't killers. At worst, the loser would probably be left lying in that alleyway Like a vulture. He'd be able to swoop in on the losing party and perhaps take their Quirk off their still unconscious body.

In a moment, he moved, grabbing the costume from where it laid and throwing off the casual clothes that he wore. He felt his body begin to shift under his command and touch, the pain of the process rather rapidly making itself known as the multi-minute long process took hold. By the end of it however, he felt energized.

Finally, that accursed mask. With a deep scowl, he took it up and placed it upon his head. As much as he despised its similarity to The Parasite, it was all he had. If he was caught in the middle of scavenging Lung's body without a mask, then his cover would be blown in an instant. So, mask upon his face, he emerged from his lair like a phantom, careful not to make any noise.

In and out. Easy, right?

 

[Julius_Garfield]

Armsmaster's night was going rather well, in his honest opinion.

He thought everything over, as he dropped from the roof of a building. The impact was cushioned by his suit, making it barely even noticeable. He'd gotten his hands on one of the city's worst criminals, with minimal property damage and no civilian casualties. Not to mention that getting rid of Lung would be cutting the head off the increasingly aggressive snake that was the ABB. Not like anyone worse could take his place.

The bug girl had done him a rather hefty favor, not like she had much of a choice about. It made the entire affair feel a little sour to be honest, but it was what was best for the both of them in the end. She seemed young, someone like that wasn't ready to have a target on her back, especially if they were going without a proper support network. If she took the credit for downing Lung, the first congratulations she'd get would be a mail bomb. Turning his mind away from such morbid topics, Armsmaster strode towards the cage where he had left Lung only to find it… empty. The cage seemed almost decomposed, the bars rough and uneven where it had broken apart, dust left lying around it. Instantly, he activated his helmet's mapping program. Close to invisible footprints left behind by the dust, but they didn't match to Lung's own, they were too small.

His mind raced as he searched for a potential culprit. Lee? But the destruction didn't match up with anything they had on file for the teleporter. And if recent patterns meant anything, then Bakuda was on the opposite side of the city. Almost as though he was moving on his own, Armsmaster found himself tracing the footprints. His strides covered the distance rather easily, but it seemed that whoever had managed to take Lung was no slouch in speed either, if the distance he was covering was indicative of anything.

After a minute or two of tracking, Armsmaster finally located his quarry. The culprit rather quickly came into view. A figure in a red trench coat, a few inches short of Armsmaster's own height. He was hunched over Lung, his back turned towards the hero, probably checking the Yakuza boss' pulse. An unknown. How wonderful. Taking hold of his Halberd more strongly, Armsmaster announced his presence rather simply:

-

"Identify yourself."

Shigaraki Tomura could only slowly turnaround from his hunched position over Lung. He had found the Yakuza boss in a cage, barely breathing, but still alive. The cage itself was too out in the open, but he wasn't expecting Lung's captor to return so quickly. He hoped he'd have the time to return the man back to his cage. Shigaraki grit his teeth, slowly standing to his feet. His right eyes bulged through the mask, as his voice emerged from his throat, raspy and rattling.

"So, I assume that was your cage, eh? Sorry, but I'll be taking this big guy with me. Finders keepers and all."

Armsmaster took a step forward, his Halberd surging to life, electricity crackling across its tip. This was going to get ugly fast, wasn't it? Ugh, Shigaraki was hoping that tonight would be quiet. The hero spoke up yet again, a more noticeable steel within his voice.

"I'm giving you one more chance to back out of this."

Shigaraki moved first.

In a little under than a second, he slammed his palm into the ground, unleashing a wave of decay towards the Hero. Armsmaster was no slouch in his movements, the blade of his halberd disassembling as it switched into a grappling hook configuration, firing off towards a nearby fire escape. Just quickly enough, he leaped off the ground, avoiding what would have surely been his demise.

He should have expected an A-Lister to have reactions and intuition up to snuff. Still, he needed Armsmaster off his back long enough so that he could slip into the shadows with Lung's barely-not-a-corpse. So, he did what he did best and thought up a plan. While Armsmaster was still in the middle of his ascent, Tomura turned his back on the hero and grabbed Lung by the scruff of his hair with his right arm.

Turning your back on an armed hero was normally a rather idiotic strategy, but there was a method to Tomura's madness. With his free left hand, he essentially ripped the lid off a nearby trash can. He could just barely hear Armsmaster moving through the air, after leaping from the wall that he had grappled onto. If Tomura's sense for battle was right, then that Halberd was going to come down on him and come down on him hard. He put his weight behind his arm and threw Lung ahead of him. The landing would be rough, but Lung seemed like a tough enough guy. He'd survive. Probably.

Using the momentum from the throw, he turned back to face Armsmaster, the trash can lid he had grabbed coming up just in time to block a heavy blow from the flat side of the Hero's halberd. The force of the impact rattled Shigaraki's bones, sending him sliding back on his feet and leaving him rather wobbly. When was the last time he'd taken a blow like that, Eraserhead? If he hadn't blocked that blow, he'd probably be as flat on the ground as Lung was. Armsmaster landed with a rather heavy thud. He was rather lucky, the weight behind the blow had managed to put some distance between them.

"Wooo, you're not playing around are ya hero?"

"I don't go easy on unknown villains."

"Aww, do I look that scary? You're not wrong though, I am a villain."

"Then I'll get the credit of bringing two bodies back to headquarters rather than just one."

With that, Armsmaster once more leaped forward, this time aiming at Shigaraki with the sharpened end of his Halberd, the taser blaring to life once more and giving Shigaraki quite the view of Armsmaster's plans. Tomura just as quickly put up his makeshift shield, the end of the halberd colliding with it and letting loose rather violent sparks. Yet, Shigaraki could only grin as the impact occurred, his plan had been a success. With a single thought, decay spread into the lid, and he watched as it turned to ash.

Armsmaster was clearly surprised by Shigaraki's destruction of his own defense, until he realized what it entailed. The decay leaped from the shield to the halberd itself, and in but a few instants, the entire construct was collapsing into nothing, Armsmaster to his credit, was quick to release the Halberd and prevent the spread from reaching his armor. But Shigaraki wasn't one to let up pressure easily. In a mere handful of paces, he closed the distance and slammed his fist square into Armsmaster's chest.

He could have probably landed a flat palm and killed Armsmaster where he stood off of that one opening… but murdering a high-profile hero this early would pretty much be setting up his own guillotine. So instead, he decided he'd simply have to "incapacitate" Armsmaster.

The hero brought up his armored arms to block the blow, which he did rather successfully. Yet, that guard left him open to attacks from other angles. Without a moment of hesitation, Shigaraki felt his body twist, as his foot rocketed upwards to land a high kick on the Hero's undefended neck. He could feel his boots clash against the metal of Armsmaster's armor, as the hero was sent towards the floor from the mere force of the blow.

Yet Shigarkai could tell that armor insulated most of the impact. This guy was tough and resourceful, and that was really starting to get on his nerves. Planting his feet back on the ground, he saw Armsmaster get back to his feet rather slowly, a clear scowl on his face. Shigaraki could only smirk, it seemed that the annoyance from the situation was mutual then.

Armsmaster changed stance, clearly intending to clash with Shigaraki yet again. Yet, Tomura knew that the longer this fight dragged on for, the better Armsmaster's chances became. Heroes moved in packs after all, and he doubted that Armsmaster would remain on his own for long. He needed something… explosive.

After considering his options, Tomura dropped to his knees, his hand once again touching the floor. Armsmaster clearly expected another wave of Decay aimed at him, moving to leap onto a nearby fire escape, but Tomura's strategy was a little different. Two waves of Decay, moving away from Tomura's own position… and towards the building that made up this alleyway. Already crumbling and decrepit, all the rotten structures needed was a small kick to their foundations to cause the entire place to collapse.

"I'm afraid this is where we part ways Armsmaster, but don't fear, we'll probably bump into each other soon."

With that one final taunt, Shigaraki put his strength behind his quirk and watched the carnage it wreaked. Armsmaster himself was quick to renege, leaping away from the fire escape and back onto safe ground… just in time to be hit with a hail of falling bricks. Shigaraki turned on his heel and dashed for Lung as the alleyway around him collapsed, bricks pouring down like rain. Though not visible to anyone, the greatest grin had managed to consume his face whole. He'd almost forgotten just how fun it was to destroy things, that simple joy in getting rid of things you didn't like. It was invigorating.

He was quick to grab Lung and pull the massive man onto his back. If his clashes with the hero were indicative, having an alleyway dropped on him wouldn't hurt Armsmaster too badly… but it would get him off Shigaraki's ass for the time being, and that was really what he needed. Shigaraki could barely hold back his laughter as the destruction raged on around him. It was a truly magnificent entrance into the scene of Brockton Bay, even if unintended.

Covered in dust, Shigaraki and his bounty escaped from the battle with Armsmaster, shaken, but most certainly free.

 

[Julius_Garfield]

Shigaraki wasn't sure for how long he ran with Lung on his back, but by the time he stopped, he was miles away from the spot of his battle. Another abandoned warehouse was what he finally stumbled upon, just on the outskirts of the Docks. It was there he dumped his bounty and realized just exactly the mess he had gotten himself into.

As he looked over Lung's heaving form, he realized that the man was in a much worse state than assumed, pus oozing from a multitude of wounds and inflamed bites littered his skin. He brought a finger to Lung's neck to measure his pulse. It was weak. How fucking wonderful for him. He could feel his inner voice itching him on despite everything, to take Lung's quirk for himself, and in a moment of weakness, he followed that impulse.

His hand drifted just above Lung's still heaving chest, and he could feel All for One sink it's greedy fangs deep into Lung's very being, digging and digging until it finally found purch-

He saw something vast.

It stretched on for farther than the eye could see, yet his soul screamed at him that it went on far longer. That it echoed into eternity and simply went on and on and on and on and on. Thousands of mirrors that seemed to take up the same space, overlapping with one another in a sort of twisted dance. Yet sometimes, one of these mirrors would come across something that the others didn't, and yet they remained just as solid as one another. His limited vision couldn't even hope to scratch the surface of what he was witnessing and yet it tried. For the life of him, it tried.

It was like gazing upon some impossible shape, yet gazing upon it in reality, as though it were an illusion of the eye and yet it was as solid as the ground you walked upon and the air you breathed. It was utterly overwhelming, and it was alive. There was no heartbeat, nor heat nor breathing in and out, but Shigaraki could simply tell: it was alive. He could not even bring himself to call it a monster, for monster was not a word fit for it. Would you reduce a Man to the same status as Bacteria? Equate an Elephant to a Diatom?

Shigaraki blinked, and he was somewhere new. Somewhere different. Wherever he was felt more... comprehensible, more present.

He was standing atop one of these mirrors, as large as a continent, and yet he could feel All for One dig into it like an animal, as though it were tearing a limb from its prey. It pulled and yanked and bucked, and he could tell that it was possible. To make this single mirror his own, a mirror that was made up of fire and steel and scales and fangs. A mirror that gave power as it was needed, a mirror that could shake nations.

Yet he let go.

He landed once more in true reality, or what he thought was true reality. He sat there, dazed, sweat still dripping off of his forehead. What had he seen? It was essentially indescribable. Lung's mirror was in his grasp, and yet he chose to let go. Was he scared? No, he reasoned. He was shocked. He could feel the impulse beckoning him on yet again, and he followed it once more. A hand above Lung's chest and once again his Quirk sank its Fangs. He did not witness the fleet of impossible shapes once more, but he could feel the continent-sized mirror being pulled out, like a tooth ripped from a patient's mouth.

Quirks, when stolen, felt more like liquid, going down as easily as a glass of warm water. A mirror, as he would call them, was more like attempting to swallow a solid. It was rougher, but still very possible. Yet, Shigaraki's senses came to him. With another breath, he released All for One, leaving himself… unsatisfied for the moment. He wanted his Quirk. He wanted to claim that shard of mirror that he had seen and tasted and held in his own two hands. Yet, he knew better than to give into his base impulses. He had proven it to himself anyway. That he could steal that mirror as easily as he stole Quirks in the past.

He could steal the villain's power, but that would attract suspicion. A mysterious villain appears from the ether, defeats Armsmaster, steals away Lung and then reappears with his power? And soon after, Lung himself is found a corpse? It would have the entire city chasing after him, the media abuzz with half-truths and rumors that would hamper rather than help. He could heal Lung and then take his Quirk, yet that would arouse the same level of suspicion, perhaps even more.

A prospective plan bled into Shigaraki's consciousness, but it wasn't one he was happy about.

He could try his hand at simply… healing Lung.

It would put one of the mightiest men in the city in his debt, and he could have the media spin him as Lung's new ally, a recruited Parahuman. He'd attract quite a bit of press then, and none of the negativity of Lung disappearing. But then, it had the potential to effectively force him into a subordinate position. If not in truth, then in the eyes of the public. The Symbol of Fear serving another villain? That wouldn't do. He'd have to talk to Lung then, make it clear their relationship and hope that the media cast him as an associate rather than a lackey.

Raising his hands, he steadily placed them upon Lung's abdomen.

All he had to do was not turn him to ash. Easy right?

-

Pain was all that filled Kenta's mind.

Bright, searing hot pain.

He could not even scream, the pain so overwhelming that moving almost any part of his body would be a herculean effort. Yet, as soon as the pain began, it ended. Like a burning hot blade being plunged into water, the agony was quenched and replaced with much more manageable cramps. His chest heaved slowly, sweat pouring off his rather impressive frame. His vision was hazy, yet it slowly focused, he was… somewhere. Somewhere dingy, if his recently returned sense of smell was telling the truth.

Slowly, he sat up, his body still sore from… whatever had happened. He had been attacked by a swarm of bugs, then by that Undersider bitch's dogs and then… he was here. A figure steadily came into view of his hazy vision, wearing a mask that resembled a hand, a dust covered red trench coat around his shoulders. Sat upon a discarded steel beam. He could see sweat slowly dripping off of his fingers, and his rather labored breathing. Kenta's hand went to his face first, only to find his mask still there.

"Oh wow. You're actually awake. I thought you had died to be honest, and don't worry. I didn't unmask you while you got your beauty sleep in."

Kenta's response, meant to be rather booming, instead came out raspy, his throat parched.

"Who are you?"

The figure stared at him, a finger tapping against his chin as he pondered for a second.

"友達を探しています。" ["I'm looking for friends."]

Japanese. So, this person was Japanese. Lung responded in kind.

"それは何も教えてくれません。" ["That doesn't tell me anything."]

He could barely see the figure's yellowed teeth emerge from underneath his mask, he was grinning. Part of Kenta disliked the figure already.

"I'll be frank then. I'm your savior. You were in horrible condition when I found you, and in the possession of a rather dangerous Hero. Armsmaster, was his name, wasn't it?"

Kenta's eyes narrowed underneath his mask. This… scrawny nobody had managed to give Armsmaster the slip? It was barely believable, but he had seemingly healed him. His hand ghosted over his skin, a multitude of bug bites had faded into nothing, where there should have been bloody marks left by the Undersiders' attack dogs, was instead skin as clear as the day he was born. Kenta was sore, but he was far from dying. He stared back at the man who had treated him and decided that it was best to deal with this as bluntly as possible.

"What do you want?"

The man laughed, a shrill sound that almost sounded like a violent cough, throwing his head back as he did so.

"So serious! I told you what I wanted Lung. Friends."

The figure's voice took on a more serious tone as he spoke again, his red pupil locking onto Kenta's own brown eyes. They were bloodshot, not unlike his.

"I'm rather new in town, and I'm hoping to establish myself. You run one of the biggest gangs in town, dontcha? Then you've got plenty of money to pay back the debt you owe me. I could've left you to rot in the hands of the heroes who found you, or worse, fed you to some of the stray dogs around here. They'd have loved to have a meal as big as you. So, to put it simply Lung, I want you to be my friend, and friends help each other out, don't they?"

Lung bit down on his tongue before he said something he might've regret. Fundamentally, the person he was sitting across from had the potential to be an incredible asset. He still didn't believe him when he said he'd fought off Armsmaster, but the power to heal Lung from the state he was in? That was invaluable. It was like having his own Panacea served up to him on a silver platter. So, he simply exhaled deeply from his nose, steam coming out from his nostrils as he mulled over the figure's words. Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, he spoke.

"What name do you go by?"

"Hmmm. Haven't really thought of one yet, let's just go with Tomura Shigaraki for now, okay?"

Tomura Shigaraki. What an utterly edgy name.

 

[Julius_Garfield]

Taylor took the news of Lung's disappearance and being attacked by Rachel much better than any normal person would, even if she did get reasonably upset. Lisa neglected to tell Taylor exactly what state that Lung was in, just that she'd fucked him up pretty bad. From everything she knew, Lung was probably dead in a ditch somewhere, but she wasn't about to tell the nervous new recruit that. Even if, getting Lung off the streets was great news for the Undersiders, it didn't matter much if it was in a cage or in a casket.

But that was all behind her, she had some info to collect. Well, it was probably going to be more casual than that. Cracking open her laptop, she navigated her way over to the PHQ databases. Supposedly, footage from Lung's escape had been recovered from Armsmaster's helmet, and was now being put up for archive purposes. Might as well get a good look at the figure that managed to carry him away.

With but a single click, the reel began to play, from Armsmaster's perspective, obviously. The first and most prominent thing about the figure in the video was just how… creepy he looked. His hair was a strange, yet off-putting tone of light blue, the mask he wore shaped like a grasping hand and just behind it, she could barely make out bloodshot eyes with red pupils and lines of crust-riddled wrinkles. This guy was a real freak. Her eyes looked across the rest of his outfit, before focusing on his hands as he began to speak to Armsmaster. There were holes in their palms, gaping and black, yet his hands seemed to be working rather perfectly.

His powers were probably touch-based then, with his whole motif surrounded around hands. A line could then be drawn towards what exactly that power did. With his body in the state it was in, it likely had something to do with degrading object's states. Making them more… like him, y'know?

The villain tapped the ground, and Lisa's hypothesis was quickly proven, as she watched a wave of destruction pulse through the ground. Armsmaster was of course quick to dodge, but something caught her eye. She paused, while Armsmaster was about to come down on the villain with his Halberd and rewound the footage. There, she saw it. A lone weed growing out of the pavement… being decayed into nothing as though it were the same as the concrete.

Well shit.

A cape that could bypass the Manton Limit was the one who had scooped up Lung. Her best power-backed assumption, as of current, was that this nobody was a foreign recruitment like Bakuda was, but then he'd have probably picked up a track record similar to her to be considered for recruitment by Lung. It just didn't make sense. Still, she unpaused the video, watching once more as Armsmaster swung his Hal-

She saw something that wasn't there before. So glaringly obvious that it felt as though she had somehow switched to a different video. Yet, the motions were all the same, her power was telling her that for a fact. A man that towered over both Handface and Armsmaster, dressed in a fine suit. His hair was shortly cropped and stark white, his face set in a slight look of disappointment as he watched the duel between Armsmaster and the cape unfold, hovering just behind the Unknown's shoulder.

The two didn't even seem to notice him, continuing their fight as though he wasn't even there. Yet Lisa couldn't peel her eyes off of the figure, something about him was almost hypnotizing, a feeling she couldn't understand lodged deep in her gut.

Slowly, the figure turned towards Armsmaster, but there was something off. The angle that he stared at the hero at wouldn't have been good to watch the duel with Handface. That was until she realised that he wasn't looking at the fight, no, he wasn't even looking at Armsmaster at all in the first place.

He was looking at her.

His eyes were red, but they were utterly lifeless. Bereft of soul and feeling. He stared at her, not breaking eye contact despite the movement of the battle. Looking at him felt strained, as though you were trying to read a sign far away from you, squinting painfully to be able to make out what it said. Slowly, he drew a finger to his lips and shushed towards her.

It was then she realised exactly what the feeling in her stomach was.

Dread.

An overwhelming, crushing force of dread that made you want to spew your guts out, an indescribable feeling of crushing and overwhelming fear. A hand went to her lips, as she strangled a gag in its infancy. He could see her; how could he see her? Even if the figure or Handface had some sort of defense against precogs or clairvoyants, how could it work across video? So many degrees of separation, and yet the figure could still see her.

She fought the animalistic urge to slam the laptop shut off and paused the video. Perhaps the ghostly figure had simply noticed Armsmaster's camera and was making his presence known to whoever watched the video. But then, why was there no mention of him within the PHQ database? Not even a mention from the meticulous Armsmaster about him in the lengthy mission report? She needed to make sure she wasn't going crazy. Standing from her chair, she headed off into the living room.

Alec was sitting around and hogging the couch, as he tended to do. Without a second word, she knocked him on the head, eliciting a yelp from the boy.

"The hell was that for?"

"I need your help for something, it's serious."

Alec let out a grumble but knew from the tone of her voice not to test her too much. She led him to her room and rewound the video as he stood rather groggily behind her. She went back to where the man had first appeared, before he had noticed her, and gestured towards the screen.

"Do you see that guy?"

"The guy with the hand on his face? Yeah, I'm not blind."

"Not him, the man in the suit! With the white hair!"

Alec, looked towards her, his face twisted into rather genuine concern.

"Lee didn't hit you that hard, did he?"

She let out a growl, before shooing him away, watching as Alec simply shuffled out of the room, a rather wide grin on his face. She turned back towards the laptop screen, exasperated and still staring at the mysterious figure within the recording. He was of Japanese descent, she could tell you that rather easily, but he was far above the average height. He was invisible to everyone but her, seemingly, and he was connected to Handface somehow, if how the figure disappeared once Handface escaped was indicative of anything. It was a woeful amount of information to extract, especially for someone of her talents, yet what more was there to go off of?

His suit was well-made, but lacked branding, just generic enough to not raise any alarm bells other than its raw size. A screenshot was what she needed then, raw proof. Yet, as she looked over the attempt… nothing. The figure didn't at all register to the camera. With a groan, she took things into her own hands, heading to the point at which the figure's face was most clearly apparent, and procured a pencil and paper from her desk. With that, she began to sketch the figure's face.

She refused to allow for this mystery to escape her. Handface was seemingly one of Lung's assets, so the Ghost in a Suit had to be one too. The Ghost was an unknown. Unknowns got people killed.

She would not have blood on her hands.

 

[Julius_Garfield]

Tenko Shimura awoke filled to the brim with energy, letting out a mighty yawn as he stretched. The day previous, he had managed to work out quite a contract with Lung, and the Yakuza boss was now somewhere secret, biding his time and fully recovering. They were due to link up sometime later this week, but for now, Lung needed to lay low to get the PRT off his back.

Today was supposed to be his first day at Winslow, he had informed Gladly that he was planning to start attending sometime this week, and while Tuesday was a rather odd day to pick, it was better than nothing. Tenko arose from his bed, his power being used to shift and change the colors of his clothes. He was in a red hoodie and white t-shirt mood today, he thought. It was unnecessary, but he wasn't the type to pass up practice.

"Good morning."

"Good mo-"

He paused.

Someone had spoken to him. A voice he recognized at that. His head slowly turned, until he saw a towering figure sitting in his chair, leafing through some sort of book. His hair was neatly cut, his eyes red and lifeless, his suit as impeccable as always.

Tenko didn't hesitate.

He leaped like a wild animal, his palm cruising towards the figure. In an instant, the figure vanished, and Tomura's palm sailed through the chair, crushing it and the floor below, before unleashing a wave of decay as it came into contact with the ground. He missed. Damn it. He stood up from the destroyed remnants of his chair. It was the one that looked like a shitty art piece. His favorite.

Fuck.

He turned his head, seeing All for One simply standing next to him, still leafing through the book in his hands. Tenko could feel his eyebrow twitch, his fingers just begging to tear into the figure's guts.

Tenko raised a finger and pointed towards him before speaking.

"No, you're dead."

All For One raised an eyebrow, the book in his hands evaporating to nothing. He presented his hand rather plainly, before sticking it through his abdomen, the hand passing through his body as though it weren't even there, before he turned back to Tomura, a slight grin on his face.

"Yes."

"Fuck you."

"That's a rather crude way to refer to your foster father."

"Fuck off."

"I swear, those video games were always such a bad influence on you."

"You get your head blown off by All Might, you don't die. You get blasted to bits by Endeavor, you don't die. You get rewound into nothing fighting Endeavor, you don't die. I push you down into the deepest depths of my soul and you don't die. You get punched into oblivion by me and every single One for All User, and you Don't. Fucking. Die."

"I was rewound into nothing fighting Dynamight, actually."

Tomura really wished he could wrap his hands around his mentor's throat and watch him turn to dust.

"What even are you? A vestige? All For One, the Quirk? A ghost?"

All For One seemed to ponder for a second, rolling the question around in his head before answering in that deeply annoying, elegant tone of his.

"Let's simply go with all of the above for now. I'm not really sure myself."

Tenko really, really wanted to wrap his hands around his mentor's throat.

Yet, he breathed in and out, calming himself steadily. This was part of his game, digging under his skin. If All for One was as serious as he always was, then he would have simply stolen Tenko's body while he slept, or worse when he first arrived in this world. Yet he hadn't, which meant two possible things. Either A.) He couldn't, or B.) He didn't want to. So, Tenko simply had to turn the tables, put his Sensei in the hot seat, y'know?

"So, almighty demon king, what haven't you tried to drown my consciousness yet again, hijack control of my body?"

He could see All for One's chin clench, He'd struck gold then. Tenko could already feel his anger evaporating, slowly transforming into a form of smug glee as he walked closer to All for One. His mentor's eyes gave nothing away, as they always tended to do, before he spoke again.

"I can't."

"Oh? You can't old man? Why would that be?"

"Because… I lost."

Tenko paused. All for One just… admitted defeat? The same prideful, malevolent All for One that he knew? He sat there, stunlocked for a minute, before he spoke.

"You're not All for One."

His sensei merely raised an eyebrow at that, his jaw unclenching as he withdrew to a more… solemn position? If Tenko didn't know any better, he would have sworn he saw something in those eyes of his.

"Sadly, I very much am All for One, or at least I'm pretty certain I am. If I were merely the vestige, I wouldn't have been able to tell you which extra I died fighting against." He sucked air into his non-existent lungs, before speaking again.

"I lost, and now we're stranded here. There's no One For All, No All-Might, No Deku." Tenko could swear he heard All for One's voice waver as he spoke yet again. "No Yoichi. There would be no point. And all for this... consolation prize of a world? A world polluted by cheap imitations of the heroes I dueled against? My will is weakened, the fire in my belly quenched. Clearly though, you're content with such a paltry place though."

Tenko wouldn't let him get the final word in.

"You misunderstand, you miserable parasite. I won. The hero society I wanted destroyed turned to dust. Now, I see another hero society, one just as blind and corrupt, so y'know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna destroy it too."

"Hmph, a destroyer should at least try to be punctual, shouldn't he?"

Tenko's face drooped slightly in confusion.

"From my estimation, it's… seven in the morning? Your bus to school will be leaving soon."

Shit.

What Tenko hated the most about his smarmy foster father, was that he was often correct. Instantly, he rushed over to a constructed mirror head made for himself as practice earlier in the week, ensuring his hair was proper, that he wasn't somehow wearing his shirt backwards and that he had his pencil and notebook. All the while, All for One nagged in his ear like an ever-tenacious gnat. Stand up straight this, make new pairs of underwear that. Take a shower, make your hair white, clean off your shoes. It was driving Tenko mad.

Still, he managed to effectively vault out of the door, all his possessions in hand, as he began the sprint to ensure he caught the bus in time. Such a pair of implements would certainly not be enough for a few semesters, but he hoped that the school would be willing to provide him with everything he needed. All the while, All for One floated close by, the book that he held in his hands back at his (their?) home still in his hands. Eventually however, Tenko's curiosity got the better of him, and while still at full gallop, he spoke to his ghostly mentor.

"What the hell are you even reading?"

"Your memories, of course. I was dormant for quite a period; I should catch up on the situation, shouldn't I?"

"I don't like you messing around in my head. At all."

"I don't leave a mess, dear Tomura. When I move around in your head, I do so rather neatly."

Ever the contrarian with this asshole, wasn't it? Still, he could only half focus on the ghoul as his bus came into view, and right about to leave too. He waved as he sprinted towards his goal, almost gliding across the ground with each step. He managed to catch the bus just in time, his hand grabbing the door right as they were about to close, the momentum almost ripping the poor thing off of its hinges.

Huffing, he waved to the bus driver, mumbling out some poor excuse as he sat down in his seat. All For One sat down next to him, still leafing through Tomura's memories. Tenko looked towards him, his brow now dripping with sweat and his voice rather exasperated as he continued the conversation with his mentor, now in hushed whispers as to not seem like he was some sort of psycho.

"When the hell did you even wake up? I've had your quirk since I landed, and yet you only appear now? What gives?"

"Well, I first stirred when you attempted to steal that Dragon fellow's Mirror in the alleyway before the Halberd wielding hero interrupted you. I truly awoke however, when the blonde girl attempted to look at us, and you grabbed onto the Dragon's mirror seriousl-"

"Wait a minute. Blonde girl?"

"Oh, you must not have seen. Well, a rather foxlike looking girl attempted to look at us with her own mirror. I simply gave her a scare, and that seemed to work pretty well. If she wandered closer, I swore I could have pulled her right out of the thing."

He'd only been in this world for a couple of days, and someone was already trying to look at him with their power? Shigaraki sunk deeper into the bus seat, exhaling in what could only be described as mundane agony. Still, the old man seemed to be worth something, if he could scare off people like that, still, it was a band-aid on an axe wound.

"So, you can counter clairvoyance, old man?"

"I could, I had a few quirks to ensure that any attempts to spy on me or peek into my future were difficult. They were required with that dastardly Nighteye, but I was never able to block him out completely. Yet, those Quirks shouldn't have been active. You can feel it too, can't you Tomura? How much we've lost."

Tenko only nodded.

"My only hypothesis is that it spawns from the differences between Mirrors and Quirks. Mirrors attempt to look at you, and then bump into me. Must be quite a shock to them." His mentor chuckled darkly to himself.

Tomura left out a huff, turning to look at the passing streets. He watched, how in real time the neighborhood went from rundown to something that at the very least resembled livable. He could barely register All for One's ruminations about the further potential differences between Mirrors and Quirks, simply watching the streets pass him by. Eventually however, the bus came to a stop, Shigaraki's stop in specific. He pulled himself from his seat, moved through his Sensei and excited the bus.

Winslow was only but a brisk walk away from the bus stop, and he arrived rather early at that. Early enough that he could drop by Mr. Gladly's office, ask for some more school supplies, and pick up his schedule. The first thing was homeroom with Mrs. Knott in about 10 minutes, not too pressing then. Still, he could hear All for One in the back of his head, complaining about how the school was "utterly subpar."

His days were going to get rather long, weren't they?

-

Taylor Hebert's stomach was in knots as she sat down in Homeroom. She had just barely been able to avoid Sophia, though she could have sworn the girl had managed to see her. Taylor felt… disconnected in all honesty. A part of her was telling her to just ditch school altogether and go meet up with the rest of the Undersiders, but it wasn't strong enough to push her out of school. At least, not yet.

Mrs. Knott hadn't been in the homeroom when she had come in, but she had little doubt she would arrive soon. So, Taylor simply settled into her computer and waited. She thought about beginning to browse while Mrs. Knott was still out of class, but that would only get her into more trouble if the teacher walked in on her.

Luckily, Taylor's dilemma was rather suddenly rectified, as Mrs. Knott walked into the room, tailed by… Tenko? The student shot her a small wave as he followed behind the teacher over to her desk. Taylor could only reply with a similarly small wave before Mrs. Knott began to speak to the class.

"Good morning students, we have someone new joining us at Winslow today." She put a hand on Tenko's shoulder, slightly nudging him forward. "Why don't you tell the class your name and three interesting things about yourself?"

Taylor could see Tenko roll his eyes before he spoke. "Yo, I'm Tenko Shimura. I'm from Japan, I like to play video games and my favorite food's Ohagi. That's about it."

"Thank you Tenko, we hope you love Winslow as much as the rest of us do."

Taylor wouldn't wish something like that on her worst enemy.

After introductions, Computer Class began in full, and Tenko sat himself right next to Taylor. It was normally left unoccupied, but Taylor couldn't muster up the heart to tell him that. Besides, Tenko didn't seem that bad. The assignment for today wasn't too tough, though Mrs. Knott swung by a few times to check on Tenko's progress, only to find that he had blazed through the assignment. Taylor was only a little slower than Tenko, and they finished up the task around the same time, leaving them free of Mrs. Knott's watchful eye. Taylor planned to check in on PHO, do some research on the Undersiders, but Tenko leaned across the low dividers that separated their workstations, taking a glance at her screen.

"You big into capes, Herbert?"

He got her name wrong. Again. Still, Taylor wasn't too slow to respond, she had a vague idea of how conversations with Tenko went now, even if he had been a bit invasive in regard to her business.

"...you could say that."

"Got a favorite?"

"Not in particular, you?"

"I think Legend's pretty neat. Can't go wrong with lasers."

It was true, Legend's lasers were pretty cool.

"So, is Mrs. Knott just gonna leave us alone for the rest of this class?"

"In my experience, pretty much."

"Sick."

With that, Tenko slid back into his own computer, his fingers moving… rather strangely across his keyboard as he switched between a multitude of tabs. Still, Taylor could barely focus on that, as she turned her attention back to her own computer and headed to the PHO forums. A big stickied post dominated the front page. As her eyes slowly read it over, she could feel the knots within her stomach become Gordian.

{"ARMSMASTER FOOTAGE MEGATHREAD: A NEW PARAHUMAN IN THE ABB?"}