Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“You intend to interview Tetsumi Inoshita again?” William Howard Wright asked, his sharp brows furrowing. He stood at the end of the conference table with a collection of files spread out in front of him and the rest of his team. His keen green eyes flicked to Naomasa and the two standing beside and behind him.

Sansa Tamakawa’s cat ears perked, and Alba Tyto turned her round owl eyes to consider the suspect board. Photos radiated out from the central image of All for One’s grinning half-face, a mugshot taken during his brief imprisonment in Tartarus. Directly connected to All for One was the sketch of the Good Doctor, a.k.a. Franklin Moreau, a.k.a. Dr. Tsubasa. Between them was pinned a photo of Tetsumi Inoshita. Threads connected her to All for One, Dr. Tsubasa, Rishi General Hospital, and a number of other clinics and medical facilities from her work history. The small, silver-haired woman glared out from her mugshot with a tight frown.

“Why?” Tyto asked and clicked her beak, “I remember the transcript of her initial interrogation. She turned down legal representation and refused to speak with anyone about herself or the accusations of her involvement with Yagi’s imprisonment.”

Naomasa stood at the head of the table and tapped a finger against the side of his coffee cup. Why try to get her to talk? She had stonewalled every attempt, and Naomasa told Toshinori as much.

The day before:

[Can you ask Sato if Ando Hospice Care was one of his previous workplaces? It looks like it was based near the Kamino Ward incident and rebuilt during the aftermath.]

Naomasa sent the text to Toshinori and pocketed his phone. He had known Ando Hospice Care sounded familiar. It was one of the facilities connected to Tetsumi Inoshita’s work history on the subject board, along with Rishi General Hospital and Kamino Ward Hospice.

“Welcome back,” Jean-Baptiste Bellamy called.

“Hey,” Mary Shin walked in and set down her bag with a tired sigh.

“Where are we at with the medical staff we rescued from under Yavin?” Naomasa asked her. He suspected it had gone poorly again by the heavy bags under her eyes.

Shin shook her head, her long white hair stained purple, and scooped a couple of small plants from her bag. Dark purple streaks marred the withering leaves.

“They don’t trust us enough. They don’t believe they will be safe if they tell us about what they were doing for the Good Doctor,” she set the plants down and placed her hand on Genji Tsuda’s shoulder. The young man leaned on her side, and the plants’ bright green colors began to slowly recover.

“Their fear is understandable,” Bellamy said, rolling a rosary bead between his thumb and forefinger, “After all, if they went through anything like Sato…”

Shin hummed in agreement, relaxing as the purple staining in her white hair faded.

Naomasa’s phone buzzed, and he fished it from his pocket.

[Isamu remembers it.] Toshinori’s text read, [I need to ask you a favor.]

A favor?

Naomasa reread the message, and his heart jolted in his chest as he recalled their morning conversation.

“Thank you for the ride, Naomasa,” Toshinori said with a grin and climbed from his car. He stretched—for a moment , Naomasa thought that was all he would say—then bent to peer back inside the car, “We’ll talk later.”

Naomasa’s breath caught.

“Sure. Yes,” he coughed. Why was his voice so unsteady? “Have a good day, Toshinori.”

“You too.”

A favor. Now? They were going to talk about it now? Or—

Bellamy sipped loudly from his coffee cup , his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. At Naomasa’s glance, Bellamy lifted his brows inquisitively.

“Excuse me,” Naomasa pocketed his phone and headed into the hall.

Control yourself, Tsukauchi. You have an empath on your team.

His phone buzzed again as he jogged up the stairs to the patio on the roof.

Naomasa let a slow breath cloud the crisp air and sat down on a bench. He knew this was coming. They had to talk about the kiss. The entirely inappropriately timed kiss. The one Toshinori did not ask for. Naomasa pinched the bridge of his nose and bowed his head. “Face it head on. He deserves honesty.”

Swallowing the lump of dread in his throat, Naomasa looked at his phone.

[Can you get me a meeting with Tetsumi Inoshita?]

“ What?” Naomasa choked and, before he realized what he was doing, dialed Toshinori’s number.

“Oh! Hello Naomasa,” Toshinori greeted , a smile in his voice.

“Hi?” Naomasa flushed hot, lowered his phone, and shot an incredulous grimace at the sky. What the hell are you doing, you-? Get it together!

“Hello?” Toshinori’s voice called quietly from his phone.

Naomasa brought the phone to his ear, “Sorry. I got your text. What - What brought that up? Inoshita has been interrogated before. Multiple times.”

“Isamu worked at Ando Hospice Care with Inoshita and said she may know more about tunnel systems in that area, if they still exist. There was an underground entrance to the noumu warehouse that was destroyed during the Kamino Ward incident,” Toshinori explained. “If there are more places like that, and she knows about them, I need to speak with-”

“Wait,” a familiar voice came closer, “You want to meet her? After everything she-?”

Toshinori huffed, “Sticking your nose-”

“Hardly! I remember what she did to you,” Isamu Sato countered. “Is this because I said we worked together at Ando Hospice Care?”

“Hold on. Let me put this on speaker,” Toshinori grumbled.

“Speaker? Wait, where are you, first of all?” Naomasa asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“The gymnasium on the east side of U.A.,” Toshinori said.

Naomasa shook his head, “No. If we’re going to talk about this, let’s meet in person. I can step away. Wright’s group is nearly done with their work today.”

Which is how Naomasa ended up back in the familiar U.A. staff break room, sitting across from Sato. Toshinori prepared and poured tea for the three of them and sat beside Naomasa with a quiet grunt.

“Tell Naomasa—Detective Tsukauchi—what you told me about Ando Hospice Care,” Toshinori said, gesturing for Sato to start.

Sato ruffled his short brown hair and ran his hand down his neck. His fingertips lingered there, “Okay. So, Ando Hospice Care was my first nursing job as an LPN. It was the hospice care ward of Rishi General Hospital’s partnering research facility, Premier Bioassay and Quirk Factor Research Labs. Tet- Inoshita was my superior there.”

Naomasa nodded. That checked out with Inoshita’s work history.

Sato continued, “I finished with my rounds when I um… saw her in another patient’s room with…” His voice trailed off, and his gaze fell to the table. He shivered.

A warm weight wrapped around Naomasa’s waist, resting in his lap, and squeezed.

Focus, Tsukauchi. Naomasa chided himself even as he laid a hand on Toshinori’s warm tail.

“All for One,” Toshinori finished for Sato.

“Yeah,” Sato swallowed roughly and touched his side. “I didn’t know that, though. It happened before I… Yeah. So, Inoshita grabbed me and told Sensei that I would do as she said. The two of them took me to an alley between the hospice ward and the research building to a drainage grate. The grate opened into a tunnel that was a way into the warehouse. They showed me what they were doing with the quirks taken from the hospice patients. That’s how I ended up taking care of noumu… Before the warehouse was destroyed.”

“Isamu believes Inoshita would know about the rebuilt tunnels in that area,” Toshinori said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Sato shifted and sipped his tea. He looked down into the steam and frowned, “I didn’t want to think about that place. Inoshita put me on late-stage care. Post-surgery. I had to do basic inpatient maintenance and manage infection if it came up. Monitor for brain activity too. Then the noumu were moved to the vats…” Sato inhaled a shaky breath, “I figured it was all paved over, you know? Not rebuilt. But, if anyone knows about noumu creation there now, I think it would be Inoshita. She was more involved in it than just monitoring the noumu after their surgeries.”

Naomasa felt a small shudder run through Toshinori’s tail. He glanced over at Toshinori, brows furrowing. Toshinori was pale and his eyes…

Come back, big guy, Naomasa thought and ran his fingers through the stripe of hair on the top of his tail.

Toshinori blinked and took a deliberately deep breath, “Right. I assume you or Wright’s team found some connection between Ando Hospice Care and the people rescued from under Yavin Central Clinic?”

Naomasa nodded, “Yes. The victims you rescued shared a common thread. They were looking for low-cost help with addiction treatment and rehabilitation. A few of them recalled the pitch they were given included both Yavin Central Clinic and a place near Ando Hospice Care. I already sent out officers to patrol the area and keep an eye out for unusual behavior.”

Premier Bioassay and Quirk Factor Research Labs, Naomasa frowned. Why do I feel Dr. Tsubasa has his prints all over that?

“If the drainage grate is still there…” Sato set down his tea and rubbed his palms on his pant legs, “I wouldn’t know if there were more tunnels. I only ever used one way in and out, and I wasn’t permitted to look around.”

“Most of the area was leveled during my fight with All for One. I would be surprised if any existing underground tunnels didn’t collapse during the fight or the rescue and recovery efforts,” Toshinori said, reaching across to pat the back of Sato’s hand.

“So, anything that was uncovered before wouldn’t be advertised now,” Naomasa said, understanding dawning. He turned to look at Toshinori, “You believe that if Inoshita was more involved with noumu creation in that warehouse before Kamino, she may have known when the operation restarted in the area after nothing came out connecting the noumu with Ando Hospice Care or the research labs. When no medical personnel were implicated, the Good Doctor reclaimed the area.” He sat back and rubbed his forehead, “Damn…”

Toshinori chuckled and gave Naomasa a sympathetic look, “I don’t believe the Doctor is one to waste anything he can reuse, and All for One is loath to give up anything he sees as belonging to him. People or places.”

“Which means Inoshita possibly knows about or had a hand in the new tunnel systems and operations after the rebuilding efforts,” Naomasa finished. We couldn’t have known to ask Inoshita about anything like this before Yavin Central Clinic. She is still under the impression that she is jailed because of her connection to All for One and what they did to Toshinori.

“We need to find out what she knows,” Toshinori said softly.

“She’s stonewalled everyone else who has tried to speak with her,” Naomasa warned. Including me.

Toshinori nodded, but his eyes flashed with determination, “I think she’ll speak with me.”

Present day:

“That is precisely it,” Naomasa said to Alba Tyto, “Inoshita is cut off from current events, including news of the raids at Espa and Yavin Central clinics. When we interrogated her, we didn’t know to ask about any involvement beyond Rishi General Hospital.”

Vera Lang tapped the table, “It would align with Inoshita’s work history. After transferring to Rishi General Hospital, she spent a short time at the rebuilt Ando Hospice Care. Her official purpose was training new staff, but it is entirely possible she was taking on more orders from the Good Doctor.”

Wright peered over Naomasa’s shoulder, “But you didn’t hear anything like that, Sato?”

“N-no,” Isamu Sato cleared his throat, stepping forward when Toshinori bumped his hip with his tail, “No. Inoshita didn’t recruit me to go back to Ando once I was placed at Rishi Gen. I, um, I had hoped after Sensei—All for One—was captured that it was over. Since Inoshita did go back to Ando, I wouldn’t be surprised if other people who worked there got caught up in it like I did. She kept that place running when the Good Doctor and All for One were away.”

“Did you see anyone else you knew in your situation?” Mary Shin asked, “Coworkers from the clinic?”

Sato shook his head, explaining, “I thought I recognized a couple of people, but I didn’t know for sure. We wore face masks and weren’t allowed to look at or speak to anyone else there. Only Te- Inoshita. We left through the storm drainage grate at staggered times, so we couldn’t talk with each other after leaving either.”

“That would certainly keep unwilling participants from colluding,” Wright murmured, running his fingers through his slicked-back blond hair.

Shin stood and grabbed a thick file from a box on the conference table. She circled the table and stopped beside Sato and tapped the folder, “Not only that, but it would make them doubt whether or not they were working with anyone who wanted to be there. You wouldn’t know who was safe to speak with while working around the noumu. You wouldn’t know who could be trusted during your regular job. Isn’t that right, Sato?”

Sato straightened, “Exactly! I couldn’t risk talking to anyone about the noumu. I couldn’t make plans outside work or socialize normally with my coworkers.”

“Isolation begets mistrust,” Shin said, flipping through the folder, and addressed Naomasa, “I have a request, if I may.”

“Go ahead,” Naomasa nodded.

“It’s more of an ask of Sato,” Shin amended. She tucked a strand of her long white hair behind her ear and rested her hand on top of the file, “We are trying to talk with some people who were in a similar situation to yours, but they are afraid of what might happen if they speak out. We need help with earning their trust.”

“Definitely don’t use a quirk to force them to talk… ha…” Sato winced at his joke as an uncomfortable silence stretched and Shin’s plants purpled.

Genji Tsuda bowed his head, “I’m sorry, I-”

“That was my doing. It was inappropriate, and I apologize,” Wright said and gave Sato a small, stiff bow.

Sato rubbed the back of his neck, glancing uncertainly at Naomasa and Toshinori.

Toshinori smiled and shrugged.

“Right. Um, water under the bridge?” Sato regarded Shin, “Do you want me to talk with them too?”

Shin nodded and smiled, “I think your story would reassure them that they made it out and can be protected. You wouldn’t be required to ask them questions—that’s our job—but you could help encourage them to talk about what they went through.”

“I don’t know how encouraging it would be if I told them my quirk was stolen and I was stabbed,” Sato said, then asked, “Would it help the investigation?”

“Very much,” Shin said. “And it might help them start to process what they experienced.”

Sato looked to Naomasa.

“It would be your decision. You’ve already done plenty to help us,” Naomasa said, but he saw a familiar spark in Sato’s eyes. He smiled. Toshinori is rubbing off on you too.

“I’ll do what I can,” Sato promised.

Shin relaxed and smiled, “Do you mind if I borrow you for now? We can discuss what you are comfortable sharing with the others.”

“Sure,” Sato said.

Toshinori squeezed his shoulder as the two of them excused themselves, Shin’s floral dress swishing as they stepped out into the hall.

“There’s something else,” Naomasa said, turning back to Wright and his team. “Premier Bioassay and Quirk Factor Research Labs. It is a pharmaceutical and quirk research lab connected to Rishi General Hospital and Ando Hospice Care. I want to know if and how Dr. Tsubasa is connected to it. Quirk biology research is too far up his alley for him not to have some kind of influence or involvement with the lab.”

“Inoshita as well,” Toshinori said, circling the table and pausing to look over the suspect board. “There is something I remember from my time at Rishi… She said that those All for One turned into noumu were volunteers. I intend to ask her whether she knew anything more than that.”

“ You intend to ask?” Wright looked between Toshinori and Naomasa.

Naomasa pressed his lips into a tight line. He might have had his own doubts, but Wright’s skepticism rankled him.

“As Tyto said, Inoshita has refused to speak to anyone else. It is worth trying,” Naomasa said, and his heart jumped when Toshinori shot him a grateful smile. Naomasa scratched at his ear and continued, “What we need to do is give Yagi every advantage. I need everything we’ve found on Inoshita so far. Work and personal history, any associates that may be connected to All for One or the Good Doctor, and any inciting incident that could have led to her involvement with All for One. How quickly can that be done?”

Lang chuckled and skimmed her fingers over her smart bar, tapping at the raised braille, “Oh, that should be no problem, sugar. I’ll handle compiling what we have.”

“I can review publicly available information. Addresses and assets too,” Tsuda offered quietly.

Sansa stood, “Should I inform the patrols to keep a close eye on the research lab, including any grates in that area?”

“Please do,” Naomasa said, nodding to Sansa as he left.

“Inoshita had a particularly poor opinion of heroes and heroics,” Toshinori said, considering her photograph. “It felt personal. Look for anything involving heroes in her past, something All for One would have used to gain her loyalty at the start. Very few people are the sort who would willingly join with him. All for One has some kind of leverage over her.”

Bellamy brushed his hand over his tightly coiled hair, “Would you like me to accompany you to the interrogation when it happens?”

“We could use your insight,” Naomasa said, “I would also like you to accompany Sansa on the next patrol out to the Kamino Ward. Chances are high that there are sensory quirk blockers or lead lining the areas that the Good Doctor wants hidden, if Yavin is the norm, but let’s do our due diligence.”

“Can do,” Bellamy nodded.

“You too, Wright,” Toshinori said, chuckling when Wright seemed surprised, “I would like you to observe my conversation with Inoshita. We could use your eyes.”

“I can do that,” Wright said, perplexed, his sharp brows furrowing in bemusement.

Bellamy chuckled and patted the Englishman’s back.

“Give us until tomorrow to put together a file on Inoshita,” Lang said. “It will take us some time to compile what we have and follow up on any leads.”

“I will read through it to put it to memory,” Tyto said, tapping the side of her heart-shaped owl face with a talon.

Naomasa nodded, a little more at ease, “Thank you. We are relying on your expertise. Yagi?”

Toshinori’s pointed ears twitched, and he turned from the suspect board, “Hm?”

“Let me take you and Sato back to U.A.” Naomasa said and shrugged a shoulder, “You don’t need to be bogged down with paperwork on your weekend.”

Toshinori barked a laugh, holding his hands up to fend off the idea, “Oh no. You wouldn’t want me handling paperwork.”

His infectious grin spread to the others, particularly Bellamy, who wished them a good Saturday.

Naomasa sighed as he and Toshinori walked down the hall. One thing done. Now, I just need to make it back to U.A. without-

The heat of Toshinori’s body pressed close, making room for Sansa as the cat-faced officer carried another evidence box down the hall. Wrapping his arm around Naomasa’s side, Toshinori pulled him close and steered him to the side.

Oh no. Naomasa’s heart stuttered in his chest, and heat leaped up into his face. Keep it together. This isn’t the time-

Toshinori’s arm slipped away, and he peeked into a side room.

“Isamu, are you ready to head out?” he asked.

Sato looked up from where he and Mary Shin were sitting. He shook his head, “There are a few more things I want to cover here if that’s okay. I was planning on calling my folks to see if they wanted to meet today anyway. We’re going shopping to pick out Hatoko’s bedroom decorations.”

“Is that your younger sibling?” Shin asked.

“Ah, kind of?” Sato grinned and pulled out his phone, turning it to show Shin the screen, “My parents are fostering a young winged boy. He’s had it rough, so we’re trying to give him a normal childhood now.”

Shin brightened, “Look at those feathers! He looks so happy.”

Toshinori’s tail wagged. He waved to Sato and backed into the hall again.

“Well, looks like it’s just the two of us then,” he said, turning back to Naomasa. “Want to grab lunch?”

Naomasa swallowed, “Sure thing.”

Oh. Oh no.

The small noumu, J0-N11 or Johnny, twitched in the Doctor’s lap, lidless eyes rolling as he prodded at the pale pink tissue of its brain inside a protective container.

“Hold still, Johnny,” the Doctor tutted at the creature. “After this procedure, you will aid me with your copy of Transmission. Let’s see.” He twisted the tool ever so carefully.

Johnny coughed out a small mouthful of foul, black ooze.

“Nearly there,” the Doctor murmured and gestured to a small vat tucked under his workbench, “Then, it will be your sibling’s turn.”

Inside the vat, an underdeveloped noumu squirmed, floating belly up in the viscous suspension fluid. Its eyes rolled to look at the Doctor, and it blew bubbles out of its noses.

The Doctor sighed, watching the floating noumu struggle, “J0-N12 just doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it, Johnny?”

Johnny flinched and belched out black sludge at the next press of the fine, metal tool.

The Doctor nodded solemnly, “No, I didn’t think so. Moka perhaps. They’ll have quite the exciting quirk, once I get my hands on a proper sample. Then I will truly multi-task.”

The quiet beeping of the PCR machine interrupted the Doctor’s focus. He finished with his tools, set down the small noumu, and let it totter off into the dark, cavernous lab.

Pressing a button on his chair, the Doctor slid across his workspace to check on the industrial-sized thermal cycler. He felt a small thrill opening the lid and examined the vials inside. These copies remained his greatest work. It had taken years to identify and isolate the Plus Alpha elements within All for One’s DNA that bonded to other existing Quirk Factors and rapidly stitched them into a host DNA strand. It wasn’t unlike a virus. An incredibly ingenious virus. All for One’s will made manifest in a micro-dose.

The Doctor pulled the tray from the machine and set it beside his newest acquisitions, a dozen quirks All for One had offloaded into cellular vessels and DNA extracted for use.

Once the Doctor had discovered how to isolate Quirk Factors within All for One, it was only a matter of time and resources—thanks to All for One, he had both—until he could isolate others. Then came the challenge of replication and cultivation of individual quirks to add to his growing stockpile. When he was ready, the Doctor could combine each cultivated quirk with All for One’s will, produce more of the raw material, and create an injectable dose.

His collection lined the shelves in temperature-controlled capsules and was nearly as impressive as All for One’s internal stockpile. Though, all of it was for his sake.

The Doctor took special care collecting the newly isolated DNA, drawing them into a hand-held multichannel pipettor, and depositing the samples into the vials holding All for One’s will. A faint purple light swirled within each small vessel as the segment of the All for One genome claimed each quirk and readied it for an eventual host.

Johnny croaked, the sound muffled by the burbling hum of the large vats lining the tube and wire-filled space at the center of the Doctor’s lab.

“Don’t wander too far, Johnny,” the Doctor said and turned away from his workspace, steering his chair down the long stretch between vats and the figures floating in each.

Johnny croaked again and coughed, looking up at one of the twitching figures.

The Doctor scratched at his mustache, peering at the latest batch of High End noumu. They were beautiful in their own way, kintsugi made flesh.

The creature inside the vat suddenly thrashed, its muscles spasming, its teeth gnashing, its exposed eyes rolling in the purple light. It was difficult not to interfere, but this stage was the most critical in the High Ends’ development.

High End noumu required Quirks of greater will in order to retain larger segments of personality, obey more complex orders, and use reason to adapt and overcome greater challenges. But what was a great will? There were plenty of individual traits that could indicate a greater will in life: ferocity, ambition, grit, determination, persistence, dedication, hatred, greed, gluttony, desire for control, et cetera. How did one determine which of these was greater? How did one determine which aspect was directly connected to the Quirk? Not all personality traits were connected to and amplified by a subject’s Quirk. It was not so easy to pin down when working with recently-dead corpses or tissue on a slide.

The Doctor had been inspired by kodoku, or the creation of a curse or poison by sealing a collection of venomous insects into a jar and waiting until only one remained. He found that it was much the same to pool together a group of willful individualities inside a single High End body. Quirks of greater will were selfish by their very nature, seemed to dislike working in tandem, and were cannibalistic when pressed. The Doctor ensured they were pressed.

The High End noumu thrashed again, hands balled into fists.

It would be interesting to see which individuality came out on top at the end. And yet…

Lacking. The Doctor frowned and swiveled his chair away and zipped back to his workspace. They are still lacking.

While the High End noumu had a purpose to serve, they could never match the accidental miracle that was All Might. All Might—or rather, the current version of him—was cognizant despite everything the Doctor knew of All for One’s personally created noumu and his own. All for One gave All Might seven quirks in the end. Seven quirks which appeared to be mutating and strengthening, based on the Doctor’s limited observation of the elusive creation. That by itself wasn’t unusual. Quirks could blend in strange ways, but those seven quirks were not the broken-down or filtered copies of quirks of the Doctor’s making. They weren’t designed to be so pliable. They were quirks from All for One’s personal collection: original quirks with a lingering spark of will from their source—the thing that overwhelmed the minds of lesser noumu and were the crucial, if fragmented, key pieces in the High Ends.

Everything the Doctor understood of quirks and noumu said that All Might must be more than occasionally absent; he must be as brain-dead as little Johnny.

In spite of that, All Might still retained his full self after imprinting successfully on a child and experiencing the elevated mental strain of multiple quirks. He had not gone mad or catatonic, and it seemed he was doing more than exist as a perfected noumu.

The Doctor pushed aside his printouts and tapped at his keyboard. On the wall, an array of computer screens flared to life and brought up the recordings that had soured utterly what had been a morning of minor successes, including what seemed to be improving relations between Tomura Shigaraki’s League and the current leader of the Eight Precepts.

On the computer screens, grainy security footage played on loop. In one, All Might and Eraserhead leaped into the center of the screen, dispatching the Doctor’s paid help. In another, All Might infiltrated the hidden lab storage and freed the Doctor’s acquisitions. In yet another, All Might dispatched guards and a nearly completed noumu. In another, All Might found the vault, found the Doctor’s local files, and found the failed, early-stage noumu.

The Doctor tapped his finger on the desk and scratched at his mustache. The only silver lining of losing the operation under Yavin Central Clinic was the opportunity to observe All for One’s creation more closely.

Seven quirks, seven individualities working in tandem under All Might’s control. What an asset he could have been if he had only obeyed All for One… Though, the Doctor theorized, it was entirely likely that it was All Might’s steely refusal to follow any of All for One’s commands that was his key piece.

The Doctor desperately wanted to pick at the man’s brain.

Is it unwavering resistance? Was it due to his Quirkless nature from the start? Both factors? The Doctor frowned, regretting his long disinterest in the Quirkless population. He should have tried to find more Quirkless individuals for his experiments, but he had thought them so incredibly dull. What was the point in adding nothing but ordinary physical material? It always seemed terribly inefficient. I need to know…

The Doctor switched the feed to check on his current subjects. The five in each room were asleep, their forms motionless in the black-and-white, grainy feed.

With the exception of Shin’ya Misawa and Kousuke Shiga, the two groups were performing well. The few lapses the Doctor had witnessed were short-lived and seemed under control. The subjects’ personalities and stubborn wills were intact, though he had noticed some strange behavior, which he had dismissed as the result of boredom.

He hadn’t expected the armadillo heteromorph to attack him, but he would take greater precautions with him. All in all, the attack was actually quite a positive sign. Shiga’s imprint on Yamadori was concerning, but he appeared to be spending more time conscious. His case might still be worth salvaging. Misawa seemed to be in a delicate phase. Changes to the skull always were.

Stripped copies… The Doctor considered his most recent batch. Perhaps Quirks given directly from All for One or from my preserve are too potent for anyone who isn’t All Might. I may get closer to the results I want with copies.

Even All for One would do well with fewer- The Doctor pushed away the borderline treacherous thought with a glance toward the chamber All for One was taking his rest in.

It was time for the next phase.

He’s acting differently, Toshinori decided. He watched Naomasa’s back, tail twitching thoughtfully. Toshinori considered Naomasa’s stiff gait and reddened ears. I haven’t done anything I wouldn’t usually do, so why? Aside from the kiss… What else changed?

They made their way through the quiet alleys that wound from the police precinct building to a street lined with small restaurants and cafés popular with the officers, heroes, and commuters coming from the nearby train station. The sun shone brightly above and reflected off the second- and third-floor windows. Dangling charms swayed and jingled in the chill breeze. Warm smells and steam drifted from the street vendors calling out to the passing crowds at the end of the alleyway. Distantly, a train clack-clacked onto the overhead line winding through the city.

Naomasa glanced back at Toshinori and froze, eyes widening in alarm.

“Your face!” he whispered urgently.

Toshinori pointed to his face with a clawed finger, “Face?”

Naomasa twisted to look toward the lunchtime crowds at the end of the alley and let out a hushed curse. He pushed Toshinori back into a shadowed recess doorway, “You aren’t wearing your hero suit. Your visor-”

“Ah!” Toshinori chuckled, glancing down at Naomasa’s hands still pressed against his chest, “You’re right. Here.”

Toshinori reached into his oversized jacket pockets and pulled out his new and improved disguise. The kids had insisted that he needed a disguise if he was going to go out in civilian clothes, and they thought of everything. He pulled his hair back into a small ponytail with a hair tie from the girls, donned a bright yellow baseball cap, and put on a pair of reflective aviator sunglasses.

“Incognito!” he declared, grinning proudly.

Naomasa stared incredulously at him, “Incognito?” His gaze lowered to his hands, and he took a quick step back and dropped his arms to his sides. His fingers flexed, and he patted his pockets.

“Here,” Naomasa pulled a scrap of dark fabric from his pocket, “Wear this. It’s clean and it’ll hide your very recognizable smile.”

Toshinori took the plain black face mask and looped the elastic around his pointed ears. They settled with a wiggle.

The mask smelled like Naomasa’s laundry soap and, faintly, of coffee.

Like Naomasa… Toshinori’s ears flicked at the thought.

“Better?” Toshinori asked, tilting and turning his head.

“Much,” Naomasa said, his shoulders relaxing marginally. “Let’s just hope no one spotted you yet.”

“Am I really so recognizable like this?” Toshinori asked, eyes crinkling in a smile behind his sunglasses.

Naomasa scratched at his ear, “You underestimate how many people know what your face looks like since Kamino.”

Toshinori stepped out of the recessed doorway and bumped Naomasa’s hip with his tail, “Well, now that I’m properly disguised, let’s find something to eat.”

The street beyond the alley was loud and bustling with lunchtime activity. Fragrant steam rose from street carts and their patrons’ food sitting on the pop-up tables and benches. Chatty office workers ducked through the cloth noren hanging from restaurant doorways. Weekend shoppers, arms loaded with their bright retail bags, flocked together from vendor to vendor. Patrolling heroes meandered on either side of the street, pausing to speak with fans. A few middle-schoolers ran through the crowd with excited laughter. One boy stumbled and transformed into a clothed tanuki. He darted between Toshinori’s legs while his friends slowed and squeezed around his sides.

Toshinori barked a laugh, turning to watch the tanuki child return to a human form and let his friends catch up. The kids paused their play and looked up and around them.

“Come on!” the tanuki-boy called, impatiently gesturing toward a gaming café.

“Wait. I thought I heard All Might,” said his friend, still scanning the crowd.

“Me too,” said another, “Look for a tall skinny guy!”

Oops, Toshinori hunched, chuckling, and continued down the street.

“You really can’t help it, can you?” Naomasa scoffed at his side.

“I can’t exactly disguise my laugh, can I?” Toshinori rebutted and gave Naomasa a nudge.

Naomasa lowered the brim of his hat and shook his head, “No, I suppose you can’t. Not that I’d want you to.”

A slow grin spread behind Toshinori’s face mask, and a deep, rumbling purr rolled in his chest. He ducked lower to peek under the brim of Naomasa’s hat, “Is that so?”

Naomasa sucked in a breath, catching his startled reflection in Toshinori’s sunglasses. His detective mask slid into place and he looked away, “It wouldn’t sound genuine. It would be strange.”

Too much?

“True…” Toshinori straightened and adjusted his cap. “How do you feel about curry? There’s a place just there that serves curry udon.” He gestured down the street to a restaurant bedecked in wooden paneling and cartoon depictions of their dishes.

“That sounds nice,” Naomasa said, a little subdued.

Toshinori saved them a patio table half-hidden behind the A-frame menu on the sidewalk. He ordered water and a mild tofu curry udon while Naomasa ordered tea and a medium-spice chicken curry udon.

“Smells good,” Toshinori said when their steaming food arrived.

Leaning back in his chair, Toshinori watched the passing crowds. Despite the widespread uncertainty post-Kamino and the recent abductions, they were still cheerful. There were still plenty of good days, still heroes doing their best, still people living their lives.

Without thinking, Toshinori let the tufted end of his long tail loop around Naomasa’s ankle.

“It’s nice seeing people smiling,” he said.

“Hm?” Naomasa looked up from his bowl, blinking away some lingering thought.

Toshinori furrowed his brow and tapped his temple with a capped claw, “You’re in your own head.”

“Sorry,” Naomasa winced and rubbed his forehead, “Is it that obvious?”

“Only because I know you,” Toshinori said. He looped a claw through the elastic behind his ear, pulled it, and let the mask dangle to one side of his face. He leaned forward and blew on a bite of tofu, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Naomasa stiffened, expression withdrawing despite the hot flush of his face, “I need to ap-”

His phone buzzed, and he quieted.

“Might be the team,” Toshinori said after a beat.

“Right. Yes,” Naomasa pulled out his phone. He huffed a soft laugh, “It’s my sister.”

Toshinori smiled and tucked into his meal, “How is she?”

“Proving my earlier point,” Naomasa said and turned his phone to show Toshinori a photo of himself. By some luck or grace or providence, the shape of Naomasa’s car’s rear passenger window and Toshinori’s position hid his ridged mane and pointed ears. It only showed the slightly motion-blurred image of his face turned to look out the window, his pupils lit up in the camera flash.

[Saw this floating around my Sky feed.] the text read, [Glad to see your friend is okay. How are things with him going?]

“Makoto is as nosy as ever,” Naomasa said, turning his phone back to look at the photo, and he clicked his tongue, “I think this was taken yesterday. Those tabloids ought to find something else to cover.”

“I’m used to them,” Toshinori chuckled, ears flicking. “Well, I used to be. I’m still not accustomed to my face—this face—being known. Six years of living with two fairly distinct looks made me comfortable with a certain level of anonymity. It’ll be strange when I do go public about all this.” He gestured to himself and ate another bite of tofu and noodle. “I don’t want my condition to distract from the abduction cases or make life harder for my students.”

Naomasa sobered, “You’re allowed to want privacy for your own sake, Toshinori.”

An odd feeling jolted in Toshinori’s chest, and he pat at the spot with his free hand.

“You are as earnest as ever,” he chuckled, giving Naomasa a lopsided grin.

“I mean it , Toshinori,” Naomasa said, brows furrowing. He took off his hat and ruffled his fingers through his hair with an exasperated sigh, “You are allowed to want privacy for privacy’s sake. You are allowed to want things for yourself.”

He’s serious, Toshinori thought, reaching back to fidget with the small spikes hidden in the ridge mane down his neck. He took off his sunglasses and ducked his head while he cleaned them on his shirt, “Want things for myself, huh?”

“Yes,” Naomasa frowned, and a worry line appeared between his brows.

It occurred to Toshinori that Naomasa always made that face when he was being completely earnest, which he was fairly often. He was starting to get faint lines around his mouth tracing the edges of his frown, as well as more stubble. He had a few gray hairs at his temple too. It wasn’t a bad look for him, now that Toshinori thought about it. Why hadn’t he thought about that before?

Naomasa’s expression softened in startled confusion, his lips parting. The same lips that-

Toshinori had been staring for too long. Staring at Naomasa’s mouth too long. Toshinori cleared his throat, sat back, and pushed the sunglasses back onto his face.

“What do you want?” Naomasa asked quietly. His dark eyes were piercing.

“What a question! I’m,” Toshinori laughed uncertainly, face warming. What in the world was going on with him? “I haven’t really had experience putting much thought into wanting things for myself.”

Now, Naomasa was staring.

Toshinori’s ears flicked in embarrassment, and his tail squeezed around Naomasa’s ankle. Despite the chill air, Toshinori felt suddenly too hot.

A scream tore through the air, and the smiles of the crowds vanished around them. Toshinori stood, ears straining, eyes scanning for movement.

“Go. I’ll catch up,” Naomasa said.

Toshinori leaped over the A-frame menu and fixed his face mask in one fluid movement. He landed in the street, swinging his tail wide to redirect the panicked foot traffic toward the parking garage and train station.

“Take shelter!” he called out.

Where is it? He scanned the street, There!

The crowd rippled a few blocks ahead, a mass flinch away from danger. Shouts of alarm echoed off the buildings, calls for heroes. A flash of light—fire or electricity—reflected off of shop windows.

“Move to the side!” One of the patrolling heroes struggled to break through the waves of frightened civilians. They stumbled back, dropping a piece of their gear.

The ground is too congested. They won’t make it in time to help.

Toshinori ran to the edge of the street, crouched, and leaped. He caught ahold of a sign, swung his legs and tail, and flung himself up to the roof. Twisting, he grabbed onto the ledge, claws piercing through his soft caps and scratching lines into the brick. On the roof, his line of sight was clear. Toshinori ran, his whole body singing with remembered power, and leaped across to the next building, and the next.

“Stay back!” someone roared on the street ahead, “I’ll fry them both!”

“Let them go, villain! You’re surrounded,” called someone else, a hero. Still green by the shake of their voice.

“Bullshit!” another villain sneered.

“Please! Let them go! They’re my babies!” It was the woman who screamed.

Toshinori landed on the next roof and didn’t bother stopping. He jumped into the empty air and looked down.

Three villains. Large body and electricity, slim body and blades, average build and telekinesis. Two kids, hostages. A new hero and sidekick, non-combat. Stalling for backup.

“I AM,” Toshinori bellowed, Oh shit.

The villains below stiffened in terror, their slack, pale expressions turning up to the sky, and Toshinori’s shadow fell over them.

Toshinori twisted hard and slammed his tail into the confused face of the electricity wielder. It cracked across his head, and he was out like a light. His arms slackened. Toshinori scooped up the two small children and held them against his chest. Digging his rear claws into the large-bodied villain, he rode him to the ground. His body cushioned the impact, and Toshinori bounced off him.

“You aren’t-!” the bladed villain wasted a breath to say.

Toshinori was already on her. He landed in front of her, jerked to the side, crouched under a slashing arm, and kicked up. The bottom of his foot connected solidly under her chin.

“Touka!” the telekinetic shouted.

You next, Toshinori kept the kids’ heads tucked safe against his chest as he charged at the last villain standing. He ducked under a flung street sign and leaped up as it boomeranged back. His tail lashed out and grabbed onto it, and he let it pull him to the terrified telekinetic with a fierce, euphoric laugh.

Naomasa was right. I can’t help it. Toshinori thought with a wide, toothy grin.

Toshinori felt when the villain released the sign. He let it drop with a metallic clang and, with two bounding steps, he was on the man. He swept his leg and knocked the telekinetic’s feet out from under him. The man’s head bounced off the ground as he slammed onto his belly, and he immediately began to snore.

Twenty-three seconds. Toshinori thought, panting into the silence on the street.

One of the kids, hardly older than a toddler, wriggled in his arms. Toshinori loosened his grip and crouched to set both children on their feet.

The older of the two, a boy about six, stared at Toshinori’s face, peering at his sunglasses, “All Might?”

Toshinori held up a finger to his mask and whispered, “Shh. That’s a secret. I’m incognito. It’s very important you keep it a secret.”

The boy and his younger sister nodded solemnly.

Toshinori grinned behind his mask and pushed a bang that came loose from his ponytail behind his ear, “I’m just Yagi.”

“Yagi,” the boy repeated with wide, golden eyes.

“Like a goat. I defeat baa-a-ad guys,” Toshinori said, making a pair of horns with his fingers on either side of his head.

Both kids’ faces lit up in smiles as they giggled.

“Kinji! Yukina!” Their mother rushed up from behind Toshinori and knelt, sweeping both children into her arms. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright, mama,” the young boy, Kinji, laughed. “Yagi saved us. He’s a goat! Baa! ”

Yukina dissolved into belly laughs, and the fabric of her mother’s white blouse under her fingers shined with a spreading golden sheen.

“Careful, sweetie,” their mother said softly. She shot Toshinori a wary look and stood, “Thank you… Yagi.”

“Happy to help. Even if it is an off day,” Toshinori said in a stage whisper.

“O-oh,” the woman stammered. Her dark eyes flecked with gold widened as Toshinori stood, “You’re… a hero? You sounded like-”

“Shh!” Kinji shushed her.

“I get that a lot,” Toshinori chuckled, I need to leave.

The lunchtime crowd was returning, and curiosity drew them like moths to a light as they pressed into the small side street. Many of them held phones up in the air, their cameras flashing. The green hero and sidekick were staring in confusion and disbelief.

Toshinori lowered the brim of his cap, his hackles prickling down his spine.

I need to go. I  can’t   be   a   distraction.

A warm hand pressed against Toshinori’s back.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” Naomasa stood between Toshinori and the cameras. He squeezed Toshinori’s arm, “I’ll take care of this. Head out.”

“Thank you,” Toshinori breathed, something like adrenaline shooting through his body. He gave the kids a wave and took two long strides before taking off around the nearest building.

He ran hard. Harder than he should. His lung burned as he scaled a building and sprinted to the next and the next.

I’ve got you.

Toshinori had to run. Had to push himself.

He needed to catch up to his racing heart.

“Are you ready?” Mary Shin asked.

Isamu fidgeted with his plain scrubs. He felt out of place without his U.A. badge and fob, but it was decided by his attorney that it would be better for him to only represent himself and not a school closely connected to heroes. That and if the medical staff from under Yavin Central Clinic were already reluctant to work with heroes and police, they weren’t likely to trust the word of a stranger with close ties to heroes.

Slipping his hand into his pocket, he brushed his fingertip along the lucky charm Hatoko had gifted him after he and his parents had set up his new bedroom. It was one of his molted feathers, bright pink at the tip and fuzzy white at the base. Isamu’s father had brought out his spike carving set and showed Hatoko how to poke a hole through the feather’s shaft and loop string through it to make a decorative charm. It was just a bit of twine, a few mismatched plastic beads, and the feather, but Isamu had been moved to tears when Hatoko offered the “protection charm” to him. Hatoko had laughed, the pink crest feathers on his head standing tall, because Isamu couldn’t fully explain to him why he was crying. Maybe he would someday, but it was too early in Hatoko’s talk therapy and adjustment to the Sato home to bring up anything to do with villains.

“Sato?” Mary smiled gently.

“I’m ready,” Isamu nodded.

Mary gave Isamu a thumbs up and led the way down the brightly lit hall, her tea-length dress swaying and making the dense leaf patterns come to life. Her footsteps barely made a sound on the hotel carpet.

“Remember, this isn’t an interrogation,” Mary said in her soft, even tone, “It isn’t up to you to make them talk to us. So, don’t be hard on yourself if they still decide not to work with us. You are sharing your story—as much of it as you are comfortable sharing.”

“Right,” Isamu nodded, nerves fluttering in his gut. He swallowed them down.

“We are here on their attorneys’ terms,” Mary continued, “They know my Blooming Trust quirk is only an indicator of trust and communication. We want to continue to build a good rapport and respect their need to be secure in their safe house.”

Isamu nodded again but felt uncomfortably warm, beads of sweat already clinging to his lower back and scalp.

Mary stopped at a door to a conference room—the kind you could book for modestly-sized events—and knocked. Low conversation quieted, and the door clicked open.

“Ms. Shin, good to see you again,” said a woman in a pantsuit on the other side. She opened the door wider, “Come in. We were just getting comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Mary stepped inside and cast a smile into the room, “Hello again. I hope you all are doing well.”

Isamu followed a step behind Mary, bowing to the woman in the pantsuit as he passed.

Inside, the conference room was set up like a mix between a conversation pit and a hotel lobby. By the door, a table against the wall was stocked with breakfast bars, a few trays with the remains of pastries, a water kettle with a box of mixed teas, a coffee maker, and a collection of paper plates and cups. In a rough rectangle of furniture at the center of the room, seated on long couches and armchairs, were eight people.

“This is Isamu Sato,” Mary said, gesturing to Isamu.

Isamu jumped, Already?

He stepped forward with a small bow, fixing his features as best he could while the group’s collective gaze burned into him.

“Not long ago, Sato was in a very similar situation and has agreed to share some of his experiences. He understands what you all have undergone,” Mary said evenly.

Two individuals in suits stood and gestured for Mary and Isamu to sit.

“My name is Murasaki,” said the first. She had a heteromorph quirk with a partially rabbit-like appearance and soft, lavender fur. She gestured to the broad-shouldered man beside her, “This is my partner, Noritake. Our law firm is representing these individuals.”

Mary sat across from the two attorneys and made room for Isamu on the couch.

“It’s good to meet you. Who’s-?” Isamu glanced back at the pantsuit woman, but she stepped out into the hallway, hand hovering by a bit of wire coiling from her ear.

“Security detail,” Noritake said, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sat in an armchair. He ran a thick hand through his short, salt-and-pepper hair, “We appreciate the lengths that law enforcement has taken to keep our clients safe.”

“Of course,” Mary said, then gestured to a small pot of dirt on the coffee table between them, “If I may?”

The lawyers nodded as if they knew she would ask.

Mary leaned forward and worked her pointer finger into the dark, damp soil. When she pulled it from the dirt, a rapidly growing sprout followed.

“You already know the nature of my quirk and my background as a therapist,” Mary said with a gentle smile at the remaining six figures, “Here, I am planting a seed of trust. What we say in this space will not leave this room unless that is what you want. As our conversation grows, our openness will help this plant grow strong and green. Why don’t we start with proper introductions?”

She looked to Isamu and he straightened, suddenly recalling the group therapy sessions he sat in on while working in hospice care.

“Um, hi. I’m Isamu Sato. I’m a nurse, LPN for a few years now,” he said and paused.

It was an uncomfortably long pause.

Don’t tell me I messed this up already…

“I’m Miho Okumura. LPN too.” The young woman on the couch to the left of Isamu chimed. She sat cross-legged, all curves with a softness to her belly, arms, and curly hair. She gestured to the person beside her, “Your turn.”

The man beside her cleared his throat, rubbing a finger under his pierced nose, “I’m Kunio Yasuda. RN.”

He appeared to be in his 30s. With his piercings and brightly dyed pink hair—though it had grown out black at the roots—he looked like he would fit in better in an edgy J-Pop group than a hospital ward.

“Tadashi Iwai,” ground out the largest man in the group. He crossed his big arms, heavy stone bracelets clacking together, “PEDs.”

The man across from Isamu lifted a hand, “Shinichi Abe. Health technician, phlebotomist.” He had slightly crooked thumbs and was graying at his temples.

Beside Abe was a stout woman with tired eyes. When she spoke, the heavy scent of jasmine and honeysuckle filled the air.

“Yukiko Maeda. RN. I specialize in transplants,” she said.

Isamu was beginning to get a clearer picture of their situation. They were all nurses who worked in general patient care, blood collection, and organ transplants, like the people he thought were working with him before. It was the same process.

The last woman to speak looked to be made more of water than flesh. She was a deep emerald sea green with a halo of tropical blue water for hair.

“Yoko Hamasaki,” she said in a voice like a lapping shore, “RN. Fertility and IVF.”

On the coffee table, the sprout unfurled a new green leaf.

Okay, that’s a good sign, Isamu thought, sharing a glance with Mary. She gave him an encouraging smile.

“Nice to meet you all. I wish it were under better circumstances, but I guess we weren’t very lucky,” Isamu said. “I assume you all can’t really talk about where you worked before?”

“It’s best they not,” Murasaki said from her seat, rabbit ears swiveling.

“Yeah. That’s the same for me,” Isamu said and patted his knees to fill in the gap. He took a slow breath and let it out.

“So, I heard a little about what you all probably went through,” he started, “Something like that happened to me over the past… couple of years or so?” He shook his head. How long has it really been? Was it more than two years already?

“Years? Seriously?” Okumura asked, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Isamu nodded, “I was working a job at A-a place I can’t name for police case reasons. I saw something I shouldn’t have. Did you-? Sorry, I don’t think I’m allowed to ask certain questions.” He looked to the group’s lawyers.

“We’ll let you know if it crosses a line,” Noritake said and waved for him to continue.

“There is someone—He is tall and usually wears a suit and a helmet. Did you ever see that man?” Isamu asked, his fingers drifting to his side, prodding at the neat, round scar.

Abe and Maeda stiffened but said nothing.

Isamu swallowed, clasped his hands in his lap, and continued, “I saw him taking a patient’s Quirk. I didn’t know that was what he was doing at the time. I found that out after. My supervisor was with him, and she pulled me into doing… the things I did.”

Mary placed her hand on Isamu’s, and he stopped picking at his cuticles.

“I don’t know if the same terms were used where you were working, but I was put on late-stage care. After the Good Doctor’s surgeries but before the vats,” Isamu said.

Another green leaf unfurled from the potted plant on the table.

“That’s what we did,” Okumura said quietly. “Iwai, Yasuda, and me. But I helped with loading the vats. I have a shield quirk, so… I was less likely to get hurt.”

“I wish I had something like that,” Isamu said, the words coming easier. He pointed to his eye, “I got a shiner once.”

“Me too,” Yasuda said, running his fingers through his two-toned hair. “I got a concussion when one of the… them got loose.”

“The noumu?” Isamu said, giving voice to the unsaid.

Yasuda’s lips pressed in a thin, nauseous line, and he nodded.

“I hated it too. Doing… Doing that,” Isamu said, picking at his nails again. “Being a part of that. But I was more scared that if I stopped or ran, my supervisor would give me up. I have family. I couldn’t risk…”

“Your family,” Hamasaki spoke up, her water hair moving like fabric underwater as she leaned forward, “Are they still safe?”

Isamu straightened, “Yeah. Yeah, they got a protection detail for a while and some better security. Honestly, I probably wasn’t important enough to go after, and I already got stabbed, so I think-”

The plant’s leaves developed purple streaks.

“You were stabbed? ” Abe asked, brows furrowing.

Isamu held up his hands, “Not after I got out! That happened just before. Then I got saved and patched up. It was still a close call, but I did get out. Now, I’m trying to help.”

“Why?” Maeda asked, jasmine perfume filling the air again. “Are the police making you do this?”

Isamu looked down, considering the purpling leaves of the plant.

“I was a coward,” he finally said, shame leaving a red streak across his face. “I was a coward, and I did things I have nightmares about. To noumu… and to people. Noumu are people, or were. But I did what Sensei… what All for One told me to do, even when I knew it was wrong. Even when I was doing it to a very, very good person. ”

Isamu shuddered and looked up at the ceiling, blinking away tears, “So, I’m helping now. Or trying to, you know? I’ve got a new job, and the person I hurt is now… basically family. He saved me, even after what I did. I need to repay him, or I need to pay for what I did. More than just losing my Quirk.”

Maeda looked at Abe, and Abe shivered.

“You too, then,” Abe said quietly. “What was it? Your Quirk.”

Isamu stared but managed to point to the back of his neck, “I used to have spikes down my back.”

Abe nodded, “I used to be able to send people memories from my point of view. I wasn’t allowed to keep it.”

“I’m sorry,” Isamu said quietly.

Abe nodded, “Me too.”

The purple streaks faded from the plant’s leaves, and it slowly doubled in size.

“Maeda and I harvested physical material,” Abe started, waving off the lawyers and leaning forward on his knees. “I took blood samples from the people who came in. I knew they weren’t there for treatment. That was just what the marketers said to get people to come to the facility. It’s like you said. I have family, and I got brought in ‘on referral,’” he said with air quotes. “By the time I realized what I was really doing, it was too late.”

“I handled bodies,” Maeda admitted, her tired eyes shadowed. “Sometimes it was small tissue samples. Sometimes they brought in people who were brain-dead and gave me a list of p-” She sucked in a breath and pushed on, “parts. I really, really hoped it was just like my usual job, that the organs I harvested were to go to patients who needed them. Not… not to monsters. Then they started bringing in the monsters, the noumu that were wrong somehow, and it was my job to recycle the material before it went bad.”

“Jesus,” Okumura murmured, “That’s why you guys don’t talk about it.”

“I… I didn’t see any of the noumu until the end, when the police raided,” Hamasaki said quietly. She folded and refolded her sea-green hands in her lap, straightening the sweatpants that matched the others’ outfits. “I was looking for another job in IVF research. There’s a lot of stigma around it with the anti-heteromorph cranks calling for a ban on IVF for ‘inhuman’ traits and activists on the other side calling for stricter scrutiny on IVF clinics to avoid customizing children after it came out that a few billionaires got around Quirk marriages by paying for Quirk-matched, bioengineered embryos.”

Iwai made a face, “And they’d still end up with kids who are just kids.”

Hamasaki nodded, her floating water hair swaying, “My focus is on making it easier for people with difficult or incompatible anatomy to have kids together. Depending on the heteromorphic traits of one or both people in a couple, sometimes getting pregnant isn’t naturally feasible. That’s my area of work. Egg and sperm harvesting, intracytoplasmic sperm injection, embryo viability, and long-term storage or embryo transfer into heteromorph or other atypical bodies. I was given a referral by someone I thought had my best interests. When I showed up for the interview, I wasn’t allowed to leave. I don’t know what they did with my work… the customized frozen embryos… I thought it was for the black market, but now… I really don’t want to know.”

Silence stretched out long and dense with shame.

“It,” Isamu finally said, his voice falling flat and quiet onto the carpeted floor. He took a deep, shuddering breath and tried again, “It wasn’t your fault. I think the Good Doctor and All for One would have found other people, if it wasn’t you. Now you’re out. You can do something different. Something better than what they made you do.”

“Is that what you are doing?” Iwai asked lowly.

Isamu managed a smile, thinking of Yagi, thinking of Hatoko, “I hope so! I’m trying to, anyway.”

“If we…” Okumura bit her plump lip, looking between their lawyers and Mary, “If we decided to make official statements, would we still be safe?”

Mary smiled in understanding, “We would do all we could to keep you and your families safe, as we have with Sato.”

“And the public?” Hamasaki asked, voice quavering.

“Given the sensitivity of the matter, we could keep your identities protected from public knowledge,” Mary said, “It would be best for the case if the focus remained on those who were harmed and those who orchestrated that harm.”

“Okay,” Abe said, casting a look around and settling on Isamu, “How do we go about this?”

In the end, it had taken a few days to compile a detailed file on Tetsumi Inoshita. Sato’s breakthrough with the medical personnel kept under Yavin Central Clinic was both a blessing and a minor obstacle. Each person had to be interviewed at length to assess their part in the Good Doctor and All for One’s process of collecting quirks and creating noumu. From there, Naomasa, his team, Toshinori, and Wright’s team were able to paint a clearer picture of the Doctor’s workings.

In the case of the operation under Yavin Central Clinic, people in vulnerable situations—addiction, financial trouble, homelessness, untreated mental illness, quirk-related psychosis, anti-heteromorph rejection resulting in isolation—were targeted for collection. Recruiters would position themselves on the edges of charity works, shelters, kitchens, and roam streets with reputations for higher rates of petty crime. These recruiters would speak with potential victims, ascertain whether the potential victims’ quirks met a certain criteria, and then offer them a brochure for low-cost or free services. These services were always connected to real clinics or other health care facilities, giving them a veneer of legitimacy. At Yavin, the Doctor created a front for treatment and shelter, which partnered with the clinic on the surface while its true operations were conducted out of sight.

Some of the medical staff were “referred” to the operation through connections the Doctor created under his pseudonyms. His alias’s respectability paid dividends when he was able to obtain both medically trained workers and, in cases like Shinichi Abe’s, additional quirks. These referred nurses and technicians were interviewed and hired through normal-appearing processes. It was when they showed up for their first day of work that they realized something was wrong. They were warned that their phones and homes were bugged, and they were being monitored with other methods of surveillance. They were forbidden to speak with anyone about their work. They were ordered to fulfill their tasks and not ask questions, not talk to their ‘co-workers,’ and not look up when a particular chime sounded in their work space. If they attempted to resist, botch their work, or talk to anyone outside of answering direct questions coming from a speaker system, they were punished. The privilege of going home was stripped, with excuses sent to whom it may concern.

It was made abundantly clear that quitting would not be an option.

More staff were lured by recruiters or, occasionally, referred by current staff in exchange for a longer leash. Miho Okumura, like Isamu Sato, had seen something she shouldn’t have and was moved to Yavin Central Clinic from a remote location that was destroyed in a rogue villain incident. She, too, had a supervisor figure who handled her transfer to Yavin, although she hadn’t heard where he had gone after that. The name her supervisor had given her was a literal dead end with a short obituary to mark his passing—cause of death, accidental hiking incident.

It took time and manpower, but Naomasa felt sure their new insight would help them not only locate more of these operations, but also find the still-missing abductees. If there was a chance the Good Doctor was using one of his operations to hold the abductees with others, then they were a step closer to finding them.

“Officer Tamakawa, lights please,” Naomasa said.

Sansa flipped the light switch in the conference room, the remaining glow of the projection screen reflecting dimly on the tabletop.

It was Vera Lang who presented their findings. Her fingers darted over her smart braille bar as she displayed the information up on the screen.

“Tetsumi Inoshita. 48 years old. 5’4” Quirk: Metal Manipulation,” she began.

Beside Naomasa, Toshinori shifted in his seat, his hackles bristling unconsciously. Down the table, Bellamy shivered and touched his temple before brushing his hand down the back of his neck.

Tetsumi Inoshita stared out from the screen against the bland background of a mugshot wall. The sharpness of her gaze was blunted by the blooming purple bruise across her temple. Her silver hair was tied up in a frayed bun, and her scrubs were replaced by an orange jumpsuit.

“Prior to her time as an RN at Rishi General Hospital,” Lang continued, “Inoshita worked as an RN at Ando Hospice Care with LPN Isamu Sato. It was there that Sato witnessed Inoshita with All for One and was pressured into All for One’s service. According to Sato, Inoshita supervised staff working on the noumu in the warehouse facility. Sato could not give an exact number, but believes there may have been no more than ten others working near his station. By his estimate, each noumu took four months to create from start to finish, required multiple surgeries and recovery periods. The noumu were transported from the facility in large vats at regular intervals.” Lang flipped to the next slide, “Additional evidence points to Inoshita’s involvement with All for One began years before her employment at Ando.”

Naomasa knew the sickly woman projected on the screen. He felt Toshinori’s tail brush his ankle and the gazes of the room flick briefly to Toshinori.

“Tomoyo Yamaguchi. Age 54. Quirk: Devour. While living at Kamino Ward Hospice and receiving palliative care for her pancreatic cancer, Yamaguchi was recorded to be Inoshita’s patient. We believe, given the evidence that All for One was in possession of her quirk, Inoshita was involved with him at that time. Whether that was a one-off or part of a longer pattern at Kamino Ward Hospice, we cannot know for sure without asking Inoshita. Given diminishing patient health and death were not only common, but expected in most of their cases, patients who lost the ability to use their quirks or passed away under Inoshita’s care would not have sparked an investigation.”

“That puts her in contact with All for One for at least five years,” Toshinori said, brows furrowing.

“At least,” Wright said with a nod, “Tsuda?”

Genji Tsuda cleared his throat and opened the folder in front of him, reading from it, “Can you go to the next slide, Vera? Thank you. In Japan, Quirk Registries—with the exception of heroes and other higher-profile individuals—are public information. Most people aren’t aware of that or how to search for the information. The registry keeps a record of all edits, the nature of the edits, and the date the edits were submitted.”

Tsuda glanced up and around the table before returning his gaze to his folder. On the screen, Vera pulled up Tetsumi Inoshita’s Quirk Registry records.

The first thing Naomasa noticed was that the grid of entries included more edits than average. Only a few decades ago, it was unheard of to update a quirk registry—unless some method in which the quirk operated was found to be inaccurate. His own registry had to be updated two times total. The first was to change it from Enhanced Vision to Enhanced Perception, when he struggled to drown out all the noises no one else could hear as a child. The second time was when he had realized while at university that his Enhanced Perception boosted not only his sight and hearing, but also his other senses to varying degrees.

Tetsumi Inoshita: Quirk Registry

[Metal Manipulation: Ability to telepathically alter the shape and magnetism of and move visible metal objects (<10 kg) using hand gestures. Can settle the objects into a 4-meter orbit around her body. Edited two years ago. ]

[Metal Manipulation: Ability to telepathically alter the shape and magnetism of and move visible metal objects (<8 kg) using hand gestures. Can settle the objects into a 1-meter orbit around her body. Edited four years ago. ]

[Metal Manipulation: Ability to telepathically shape, push, and pull visible metal objects (<4 kg) using hand gestures. Edited seven years ago. ]

[Metal Manipulation: Ability to telepathically shape and pull metal objects (<3 kg) as long as they remain visible using hand gestures. Edited eight years ago. ]

[Metal Manipulation: Ability to manipulate the shape of small amounts of visible metal, regardless of hardness, via touch. Edited 44 years ago. ]

Beside Naomasa, Toshinori tensed, staring at the screen. Bellamy’s brows furrowed in confusion, looking between Toshinori and the screen, rubbing his chest.

“Shit,” Naomasa breathed, covering his mouth. The realization hit his gut like a stone.

“She got stronger?” Sansa said uncertainly.

Tyto blinked owlishly, clacking her beak, “Her method of manipulation altered within the last decade. That is rare.”

Tsuda nodded, blinking rapidly before continuing, “I also thought it was strange. So, I looked at more publicly available records. Next slide. Approximately twelve years ago, Inoshita filed a lawsuit against an up-and-coming hero, Alcomax, the Magnetic Hero. Gross negligence during a combat and rescue mission causing personal injury and the death of a fetus. Her case was settled and paid out to her, but the demand that Alcomax lose his hero license was dismissed at the urging of the Hero Commission. Alcomax worked for another three years, gaining a steady following and rising to Number 14 on the Hero Charts, before going missing. He was presumed dead after a botched rescue and recovery mission. His body was never located.”

On the screen was a shaky video from an incident years earlier: a collapsed building, an active villain attack, and a young Pro-Hero in a silver and blue suit. He bellowed something, swinging his arms forward. Rebar and chunks of support beams shot out of the rubble to orbit Alcomax before he flung them at a fast-moving villain. Somewhere in the rubble, out of sight, a woman screamed.

Another video, archived news coverage, showed Alcomax carrying a familiar woman from the rubble, her swollen abdomen bleeding heavily, flesh torn. Alcomax paused briefly for the cameras before passing her to a waiting medic and wiping her blood from his suit.

“I’m just happy I could save her,” he said to the gathered reporters and flashed a winning smile.

Wright looked away from the screen with a frown and rubbed at his eyes.

Naomasa tasted bile on his tongue.

Toshinori sat back in his chair, his hackles standing rigid, “She hated heroes. All heroes.”

“While it is only circumstantial, I found it notable that Alcomax’s quirk gave him the ability to magnetically pull large amounts of metal using gesture-based telepathy or magnetic control. Up to a metric ton.” Tsuda said, “G-given what we know about All for One and the fact that Inoshita worked for him for at minimum five years, it is possible that this was the inciting incident Yagi requested we look for.”

“That means Inoshita was possibly aiding All for One during her employment at three other medical facilities,” Wright said, “Though it is possible there may be more given her known connections.”

Lang flipped to another slide with Inoshita’s work history, a number of her peers, and possible connections, fingers sliding and tapping along her smart bar, “We have some ideas on how to handle questioning her and which directions to pursue, if Yagi does manage to convince her to speak.”

Toshinori opened the folder Tsuda passed to him, his expression stony.

Naomasa felt the tufted end of his tail brush his ankle again, and he slid his foot closer, letting Toshinori hold tight.

The women’s prison was a walled-in complex of low, pale yellow buildings and self-contained gardens backed against the forked bend in a river. Women in orange dotted the outdoor areas, walking, talking, and working. A few cast curious looks at the black van rolling through the main gate, three additional checkpoints, and around to the high-security wing parking lot.

Naomasa led the way into the building, speaking for the group and explaining that he had set up the interrogation appointment. They each showed their IDs—Naomasa his badge, Toshinori his still-new hero license, Wright and Bellamy their credentials—and turned over their phones, watches, and belts. Anything with metal had to be left behind. Fortunately, the thickly-framed glasses Toshinori wore as a disguise were made of plastic.

“Shoes off. Please use the provided slippers,” the stern guard droned and shot Toshinori a wary look, “We won’t have anything to fit you.”

Toshinori paused, briefly struck not by the guard’s tone but the way Wright grimaced and Bellamy frowned.

“I’ll manage,” he said behind the black face mask he had yet to return to Naomasa, tail twitching in discomfort as he slipped off his glove-like shoes and stepped back onto the cold floor. Who spat in his coffee?

Naomasa scowled, taking a moment to search the collection of slippers before sighing. No luck.

“Remedy that,” he ordered the guard, who nodded, face reddening marginally.

They were led deeper into the largest building of the complex, swallowed in stages by the stairwells down and the security stops with dead man’s switches. Toshinori’s ears twitched as women’s voices floated like ghosts through the halls, their conversations mixing in a muddle of noise from other branching wings of the underground complex. Under his feet, the floors were cold but clean and smelled of lemon-scented cleaner and wax.

“In here,” their latest security guide unlocked and opened a door into a space with a table and a reinforced one-way mirror. She addressed Naomasa, “Have you been briefed on the security measures?”

Naomasa nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

She looked to Toshinori, Wright, and Bellamy, “I will be standing just outside if you need anything. In case of emergency, press and hold the red button by the door. To leave, press and hold the green button until the buzzer sounds.”

“Thank you,” said Wright.

They each filed into the observation room, and the door swung smoothly shut behind them, locking with a click . The space was dimly lit by the light shining in from the bright white interrogation room on the other side of the one-way mirror. The light reflected off the tiled walls in shifting pools. Squares of black sound-dampening foam covered the wall opposite the mirror, and on the other side of a small table stood a water cooler.

Bellamy shivered, “ Cafardeux… ”

“Are you alright?” Wright murmured to Bellamy.

Bellamy nodded, straightening his deep green sweater-vest as he sat in one of the provided chairs in the room, “The walls are thick, so the range of my quirk is muted. I feel ennui—boredom—mostly. I feel a general sense of focus from those occupied with work. Impatience too.”

“I can understand that in a place like this,” Wright said and sat beside him at the table, laying out the paper folders they were allowed to bring with them. Together, they began to read over and organize them across the tabletop.

Toshinori stood in front of the one-way mirror, considering the plastic-coated room beyond it. It was brightly lit and empty save for a table and two chairs facing each other.

“Ready?” Naomasa asked, coming to stand by his side.

“As ready as I can be with how many times I’ve been over Inoshita’s files,” Toshinori said, fidgeting with a button on his suit jacket.

“That isn’t… If you need me to at any point, I’ll switch with you,” Naomasa offered quietly, “We aren’t in a rush today. You can take your time and tap out if that is what you want. You won’t need to do this alone.”

What I want, huh? Toshinori chuckled softly, steadily shifting his weight from foot to foot, and gave Naomasa a lopsided grin, “Do I look nervous?”

Naomasa glanced over his shoulder at Bellamy, whose temples were dotted with sweat and whose shoulders were growing more and more tense. His thumb rubbed at the middle digit of his forefinger where he had pressed a groove with his rosary beads.

“Ah,” Toshinori breathed and nodded. “Is that why you asked him to come?”

“Why I..?” Naomasa shook his head, “No. He will give us a gauge on Inoshita’s mindset and Wright will be able to read lies from her,” his brows pinched, and he closed his eyes, “Damn, but I see how it looks.”

“He will feel if I lapse,” Toshinori said softly.

“Yes,” Naomasa agreed. He looked at Toshinori and scratched at his ear, “But I don’t need him to tell me a lapse is coming. I know what you look like when it starts.”

Above them, a speaker crackled to life, feeding in the sounds from the interrogation room.

On the other side of the mirror, the prisoners’ side door buzzed loudly and swung open. Two guards walked in, escorting a small woman between them. One guided the silver-haired woman into a chair while the other fastened the woman’s handcuffed wrists to a loop on the table. Nurse Tetsumi Inoshita shot a glowering look at the one-way mirror, laying her hands down. The thick plastic chains clattered—

Hot, acidic bile boiled up Toshinori’s throat. With a shocking clarity, he saw the flights of stairs and locked doors they had passed through to get to this very room. Deep underground, behind thick walls. Behind locked doors.

That locked door.

That place.

Those chains.

Toshinori’s scarred wrists ached with a sudden phantom pressure, and his heart hammered in his chest. He felt lightheaded.

“Toshinori?” Naomasa pressed a hand to Toshinori’s back.

Blood and sickness and weeks of soured sweat.

He could smell it.

Toshinori doubled over, pulling off his face mask and letting out a shuddering, coughing retch.

“ Maria, ” Bellamy gasped with a shiver.

“Easy,” Naomasa murmured in Toshinori’s ear, his hand running up and down Toshinori’s back and catching his arm as Toshinori’s legs shook and buckled into a crouch. “Easy. Easy. Breathe, Toshinori.”

Toshinori retched dryly, abdomen cramping tight around the nausea, ribs squeezing too hard around his pounding, exhausted heart. His back prickled, his ridged mane going rigid and sharp.

Fuck. Toshinori gasped for air, his watery vision spotting with darkness at the edges. A bottomless, cold dread dropped from his gut, hollowing his chest, and opened up underneath his feet, Oh shit, please stop-

Another hand caught his free arm.

“Here,” Wright said, holding out a handkerchief. “When you’re ready.”

Embroidered on the corner of the white handkerchief was a small yellow duck in rain boots, and the bright, cheerful absurdity of it in this place loosened Toshinori’s chest just enough to take in a full breath.

“Thank goodness. There we go. You aren’t in that place,” Naomasa said at his side. “You’re alright. One breath at a time.”

In and out… In… and out.

Toshinori let out a shaky breath as his vision slowly cleared. Spittle dangled in loose, wet strands from his lips and chin.

“I’m sorry, I don’t-” he wheezed. I don’t know why it happened. It shouldn’t have happened. It’s been weeks. I was ready-

“It’s alright,” Naomasa said softly, “It’s better this happened in here. It’s soundproofed. No one else heard.”

Toshinori shivered, lifting his tail from the cold, tiled floor. Finally, he took the offered handkerchief, tucked away his thick-framed glasses, and wiped his face.

“Should you take over?” Wright quietly asked Naomasa over Toshinori’s hunched shoulder.

“No,” Toshinori rasped and sniffed, wincing with shame at the wet sound, “No. I just need a moment.”

“Yagi is experiencing symptoms I’ve felt before,” Bellamy said, taking measured breaths, “Give him more room to breathe, Wright.”

Wright hesitated, then stood, squeezing Toshinori’s shoulder, and stepped away.

“Damn,” Toshinori wheezed, wiping under his nose and clearing his burning throat. He slowly stood, bracing his hand on the wall and wrapping his tail around Naomasa as he found his balance again.

The speaker above continued to feed in the sounds of the interrogation room. On the other side of the one-way mirror, the two guards double-checked Inoshita’s cuffs and left her at the table, exiting back out of the prisoners’ side door.

Folding the handkerchief and wiping at his face again, Toshinori breathed through the lingering static buzzing in his head. The chains shifted in the room again, and his ears twitched.

They aren’t the same. The chains are plastic. They don’t sound the same. This isn’t that place. Toshinori took a long, deep breath and sighed.

“Back with me?” Naomasa asked. His dark, worried eyes looked Toshinori up and down, then settled on his face.

Toshinori nodded, “Yeah. I didn’t expect…”

“Was it Inoshita?”

“No. Not just her,” Toshinori shook his head and swallowed roughly, “The room and chains. It hit me out of nowhere. I remembered…”

“Rishi,” Naomasa finished for him, and Toshinori nodded. Naomasa brushed a hand over the tail wrapped around his waist, “How do you feel now?”

Toshinori grimaced, “Mortified. I wish I didn’t… break down like that.” He glanced over his shoulder, grateful Wright was tending to Bellamy and Bellamy was keeping his attention away.

“You didn’t lapse,” Naomasa pointed out.

Some of the shame loosened, and a small smile tugged at Toshinori’s lips, “No, I didn’t.”

“Still got this?”

Toshinori huffed a laugh, grinning despite the lingering haze of dread, “Still believe I do?”

“I do,” Naomasa patted Toshinori’s back, smoothing out the relaxing stripe of hair poking from his modified suit jacket. “And I still have your back.”

The tension in Toshinori’s shoulders slowly drained away, and he shook off the rest with force, bouncing on his toes like he was about to rush into a fight.

Inside the interrogation room, Inoshita shifted in her chair, folding her hands together to wait.

Naomasa stepped away briefly. He filled a paper cup with water from a large standing jug in the corner of the room.

“Here,” he said, passing the cup to Toshinori, “We’ll start once you’re ready.”

Toshinori drank and dipped a clean corner of the handkerchief in the remaining water. He dabbed under his eyes and at his cheeks before patting them back into a healthy color.

“Let me see,” Naomasa turned Toshinori to face him, taking him in. He reached out and straightened his golden-yellow tie and suit lapels, brushing off a stray fuzz from the blue-gray pinstripe material. “There. You look sharp.”

“Thank you,” Toshinori said, then turned to the door leading into the interrogation room. He pressed and held the green, open button. I’m ready.

The door alarm buzzed loudly against the ceiling as the reinforced plastic door unsealed and swung heavily open. Harsh white fluorescent lights hummed overhead and lit up the figure seated at the table in the small interrogation room.

With a roll of his shoulders, Toshinori stepped into the room, tail swaying low and slow as the plastic door clunked shut behind him. He glanced back at the large mirror and saw himself. His face was a little flushed, but healthier now. His suit was tidy and well-fitted. He was a far cry from the man who had limped his way out of Rishi General Hospital’s basement storage.

The orange-clad woman shifted, her head bowed and gaze fixed on her folded hands. The handcuffs affixed around her wrists were plastic, too. With her quirk—her quirk and Alcomax’s mixed, Toshinori now knew—the prison couldn’t risk giving her metal to manipulate.

“Well,” the woman grumbled, “Are you going to sit down?”

Toshinori’s hackles bristled, and for the briefest moment, he was back in that room…

But I am not in that room. I am not chained.

Toshinori stepped forward and pulled out the chair opposite the woman. He paused, looking at her again.

She appeared older than he remembered. Smaller too. His gaze drifted to her bare forearm, where four long gashes had been stitched and healed into pale scars. Scars he had given her.

“How is your arm?” he asked, resting his clawed hand on the table.

The woman’s brows furrowed, and she looked up, “Who-?”

Toshinori sat down and met the woman’s confused, then horrified gaze.

“Hello again, Nurse Tetsumi.”

Nurse Tetsumi recoiled, standing abruptly and yanking on her chained wrists.

“Guards! Guards!” she yelled, voice cracking in fear.

Toshinori stared in stunned silence as Tetsumi yanked at her wrists and yelled at the opposite door. No one came.

“Inoshita-san,” Toshinori tried, holding up his hands.

Nurse Tetsumi yanked her arms again, the plastic chains clattering and holding fast, “Guards! I want out!”

“Nurse Tetsumi, stop! ” Toshinori commanded, his voice echoing in the room around them both.

Tetsumi froze, her silver hair disheveled, and stared at Toshinori from across the table.

Toshinori’s brows pinched, and he lowered his voice, gesturing at her red-ringed wrists, “Look. You are going to hurt yourself. Just sit down for a minute.”

“You’ve come to kill me,” Tetsumi whimpered, eyes wide and wild with fear.

“No,” Toshinori sighed and folded his hands in front of him, “I’ve come to talk to you. Sit down.”

Tetsumi shook her head, sinking back into the chair. She looked hollowed out, pale, and fatigued.

“I knew he was going to find a way to kill me,” Tetsumi muttered more to herself than Toshinori. Her voice trembled, “Someone tried to kill me here already. It was only a matter of time. My silence was never going to be enough.”

“He? Who?” Toshinori asked, glancing at the mirror. There was an assassination attempt? Someone go ask.

Tetsumi scoffed, though the noise was nearly a sob, and scowled weakly, “ Him. Don’t play stupid with me. The inmate with the blade quirk and my poisoned food. I didn’t die. He sent you because no one else could get close enough to kill me in here.”

Toshinori frowned, his tail tuft flicking thoughtfully.

“At least tell me how,” Tetsumi whispered, her hands trembling, “Did he send you with a pill? Or has he ordered you to kill me in here and let the Hero Commission cover it all up? Wouldn’t that be just fitting? After all I did for him.”

Toshinori’s frown deepened, “You think All for One sent me. Nurse Tetsumi… Inoshita-san, I am not here to hurt you.”

I knew she wasn’t getting any news, but this is something else.

Tetsumi scoffed again, but she sat back in her chair, scrutinizing Toshinori, his changed body, his eyes. Slowly, her brows drew together. She shook her head, “I saw you covered in that boy’s blood. You were gone.”

“I am still here,” Toshinori said simply.

Tetsumi shook her head and snarled, “You were gone! He had you! He said…” She blinked rapidly and stared at Toshinori, “No. He said you were his. He told me to clean up your mess and you attacked me on Sensei’s command. I failed him because I let that boy get too close and made of mess of it. Then, he let the police find you. Arrest me to take the blame while you went back to the heroes to do his bidding. To…”

Toshinori watched as her story frayed at the edges, the loose threads coming apart in her hands.

“Inoshita-san, that isn’t what happened,” Toshinori said.

Tetsumi tried to cross her arms, but the chains pulled on her wrists. She shook her head again, “Sensei had you… You were under his control.”

“You believe All for One forced me to obey his commands? To imprint on him like the other noumu?” Toshinori asked. He took a risk, “To do what the Good Doctor ordered you and those other nurses to avoid doing at Ando Hospice Care? Neither All for One nor the Good Doctor wanted a noumu to imprint on anyone but themselves. Is that right?”

Tetsumi stiffened, “Why are you asking-? How do you know about that?”

Toshinori folded his hands together, “Isamu-”

“Don’t!” Tetsumi snapped, her eyes red-rimmed, and she pointed an accusatory finger at Toshinori, “Don’t say that boy’s name. It was your fault he got himself killed.”

Toshinori’s ears tilted as he considered Nurse Tetsumi, “He isn’t dead.”

Tetsumi’s face pinched, her voice quiet, “What?”

“Isamu said that it was at Ando Hospice Care that he witnessed you allow All for One to take a dying patient’s quirk,” Toshinori pressed on, “You were working for All for One during your time at Kamino Ward Hospice as well. You let him take Devour from Tomoyo Yamaguchi. A quirk he later gave to me.”

“Isamu is…? Why are you asking about this?” Tetsumi muttered, her eyes flicking from Toshinori to the mirror and back again, “Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

Toshinori rubbed his chin and sighed, “Inoshita-san, I am in control of myself. I am here by my own choice. I am here because there are people out there who are being held captive by All for One and the Good Doctor, including children and an expectant mother.”

Tetsumi flinched, “That’s a lie.”

“I will not lie to you,” Toshinori said firmly.

Silence stretched between them, and Toshinori waited. He watched as Tetsumi looked him up and down, watched her come to the truth, and the disbelief stubbornly return again and again. He watched as that disbelief slowly eroded, replaced by dread and uncertainty.

“Sensei didn’t…” she finally whispered.

“Isamu helped me escape, and I took him somewhere safe,” Toshinori said. “All for One failed.”

Tetsumi seemed to deflate in her chair, her hands sliding from the table to hang above her lap by the chains.

“We found the tunnels under Espa Clinic and Yavin Central Clinic. We know there are more under Ando Hospice Care that lead to a warehouse,” Toshinori continued. “Is that why you think All for One would have you killed? You know too much about how he and the Good Doctor, also known as Dr. Tsubasa, collect quirks and create noumu.”

Tetsumi pressed her lips into a thin line.

A spark of anger lit in Toshinori’s chest.

Don’t start that, Toshinori leaned forward and tapped the table with a claw to refocus her attention. “Inoshita-san. I remember what you told me at Rishi. You said that the people All for One turned into noumu were volunteers. You called them petty criminals looking for power. You said they deserved what happened.”

“They were. They did,” Tetsumi said with a flash of teeth.

“So, why did I find a young man who was only trying to get his sister help with her addiction chained to a wall and half-noumu already?”

Tetsumi shook her head-

“Why is the Good Doctor abducting ordinary people from the street, including two teenagers and a pregnant woman expecting her first child? ”

“That’s a lie!” Tetsumi spat.

Toshinori reached into his jacket and pulled out a small stack of photographs. He laid the photos face up across the center of the table, naming each.

“Souma Ogawa disappeared while on a work break. Mirai Shimeno, a nurse, vanished in the middle of her night shift. Mamoru Tani, mother of three adopted children, vanished near her work site. Nozomi Shishiki, a children’s librarian, never made it back to work from a morning break. Kousuke Shiga, a seasonal worker, disappeared before meeting with a friend. Shin’ya Misawa disappeared outside his home.”

Tetsumi tried to cross her arms again, chains tugging on her wrists.

Toshinori tapped the last three photos, “Chris Kougami. He is 17 years old. He disappeared near a library. Kouichi Sunaba. He is only 14 years old. He was abducted from a community park. Taeka Yoyogi, wife and expectant mother. She was abducted just before her appointment with her obstetrician at Rishi General Hospital.”

Recognition flashed in Tetsumi’s eyes as she stared at the last photo.

“You know her,” Toshinori said, realizing it the moment the words left his lips.

Tetsumi was silent. Slowly, she reached out and pulled Yoyogi’s photo closer to her.

“You saw her while you were working at Rishi. A lioness heteromorph quirk would make her hard to miss,” Toshinori reasoned. “Did you speak with her?”

“They’ve been trying for a baby…” Tetsumi murmured, brows pinching uncomfortably. “For years. She’s pregnant?”

Toshinori swallowed down the rush of adrenaline and wrapped his tail firmly around the legs of his chair to keep it from moving.

“Yes. She’s expecting. First trimester, nearing her second. She and these others were abducted by All for One and the Good Doctor. I suspect they are trying to repeat what was done to me,” Toshinori said, gesturing to his body.

“You deserved it,” Tetsumi said flatly.

“Do they?” Toshinori asked, tapping the photos, “Does Yoyogi deserve this? You know the toll this took on my body and my mind. You saw what it did to me. It was torture. Do Yoyogi or these kids deserve that?”

Tetsumi worked her jaw, lips pressed in a frown as she looked down at the photos again.

After a long silence, Toshinori asked, “Did you not know about the children? Did All for One not tell you about them? These aren’t the first. The Good Doctor, the man we know as Dr. Tsubasa, used who we believe was his adopted grandson to create a winged noumu. A child he had in his care. And there are more.”

Nana’s grandchild…

“No,” Tetsumi said.

“No, you didn’t know?” Toshinori pressed, “Or no, he never told you?”

“Sensei said he and Dr. Morou never touched children,” Tetsumi argued, “They used criminals and fame-hungry heroes.”

“He lied to you, Inoshita-san,” Toshinori said. Morou. Another alias?

Tetsumi shook her head, but she seemed to shrink just a little in her chair, “Sensei wouldn’t lie to me. He gave me a gift.”

“You aren’t the first he lied to, Inoshita-san. You aren’t the first he gave a quirk in exchange for loyalty,” Toshinori said.

A blotchy flush reddened Tetsumi’s face, “What do you know about that?”

“There are more people out there who are seeking help and being tricked. The young man who was half-noumu and his sister weren’t the only ones at Yavin Central Clinic. There were more than a dozen people in chains who went there looking for medical treatment. There were more people who, like Isamu, were coerced into taking samples from them and developing noumu.” Toshinori took a slow breath and took the next big risk, “These people need to be found. To do that, I need your help, Inoshita-san.”

Tetsumi’s humiliated expression soured, “You want me to help you? ”

“Yes. I told you I would not lie to you,” Toshinori said firmly, “Yoyogi, these two kids, and the rest here could be anywhere that All for One and the Good Doctor collect quirks and create noumu. There could be any number of people who need to be returned to their families. You need to tell us what you know about the tunnel systems and where else noumu are being made.”

“So you can swoop in and save the day for the cameras?” Tetsumi asked, her voice taking on a bitter edge. She scoffed when Toshinori’s ears twitched downward, “Is that what you are doing now? Using All for One’s quirks to relive your glory days as some kind of All Might lite? Have you told your fans what you really are, noumu?”

Her voice. Her familiar mockery. This brightly lit, suffocating room. The plastic chains clinking against the table—

“This isn’t about me,” Toshinori said. His tail twitched irritably under his chair, “All for One and his doctor are taking people—mothers and children—and turning them into monsters.”

“And you don’t? You and that school… You call yourselves heroes and preen for the fame,” Tetsumi sneered and pointed to the mirror, “Look at what you are. Do you think you can fool anyone with your suit and tie?”

Toshinori’s tail twitched and curled on itself.

Tetsumi held up her scarred forearm between them, “I’ve seen what you can do when you lose control. I hope whoever is out there keeps you on a short leash.”

Angry prickles raised the hair down Toshinori’s back, and his jaw tightened. He rubbed his aching wrists.

Tetsumi watched, that familiar superior glint in her eyes.

Calm down. She’s goading you. Just like before.

Toshinori took a breath, shook his head, and laid his palms flat on the table.

“This isn’t about me,” he repeated slowly, “This is about bringing these people home and stopping All for One and his doctor from doing more harm, before the worst happens to any of them. Before the worst happens to Yoyogi and her child.”

Tetsumi sighed. She looked… almost disappointed, even as she looked down at the line of photos again. She picked up Yoyogi’s photo and held it for long minutes.

Toshinori stayed still, barely breathing as the silence stretched on and on.

“No,” Tetsumi said abruptly, placing the photo back onto the table and pushing it back toward Toshinori. “I won’t help you. I won’t let you take credit for this.”

Dread and anger coiled tight in Toshinori’s gut, hot and acidic under his tongue-

“Send someone else in,” Tetsumi said, looking away, “I’ll talk with them.”

Toshinori froze. Had he heard that right? It took everything not to sag back in his chair. The snub was nothing. Her mockery was nothing. Tetsumi agreeing to talk was everything.

There was a soft knock at the mirror before the door buzzed open. Naomasa stood in the doorway, his face impassive as he waved for Toshinori to exit.

“Alright,” Toshinori said, standing from his chair. He straightened his suit jacket, smoothing his ridged mane down his neck as he turned. His claws clicked against his back spikes.

“Oh-,” Tetsumi breathed behind him.

Toshinori half-turned and found Tetsumi staring at his back. She met his gaze, and perhaps for the first time, there was a hint of softness there. She had seen the spikes. She knew them, knew they were Isamu’s.

Toshinori turned away and stepped through the door, allowing Naomasa to enter in after him with a notepad and soft-tipped plastic pen. As soon as the door clunked closed, Toshinori swayed on his feet.

" Shit-"  he rasped, blinking rapidly as the tension bled out of his limbs.

Bellamy was in front of him. He caught him by his arms and patted his back.

“Good! Great work,” he said, helping steady Toshinori. “She is sincere. Awful, but sincere.”

“And Wright?” Toshinori rasped.

Wright sat at the table, flipping through their files and writing feverishly.

“He didn’t flag any dishonesty. And what she said, ‘Morou,’” Bellamy answered for him, “We’ve seen the name before.”

“Good,” Toshinori nodded and turned back to the one-way mirror, bracing his hand on the tiled wall.

Inside the interrogation room, Naomasa pulled out the chair and sat.

“Would you like to speak with me about what you know?” he asked, readying his pen over the paper.

Tetsumi looked at the pictures again.

Come on… Toshinori willed, leaning closer to the one-way mirror. He idly traced his fingers against the grout between two tiles, feeling the grit of it flake.

“Ando Hospice Care,” Tetsumi said and paused. “Isamu told you about the tunnels near there, I assume.”

“He did,” Naomasa confirmed, “Tell me about the tunnel system at Ando and how the operation was rebuilt.”

Tetsumi tapped the table with her finger and began drawing a general shape with her fingertip.

“The majority of the tunnels were converted from storm runoff drainage systems,” she said, “They follow the city plan with exits carved from the walls. Most of it was destroyed and eventually reclaimed when the memorial park was built. I wasn’t involved in the rebuilding, but I did think it was poetic. That golden idol stands right above a main walkway. It’s right under his feet.”

Toshinori’s pointed ears lowered, feeling a tightening in his gut.

Naomasa hummed neutrally, “The entrances?”

Tetsumi frowned, clearly disappointed, “I can tell you the old entrances I preferred included the one Isamu used and another direct route from the PBQF Labs’ refrigerated storage.”

“PBQF Labs. That’s Premier Bioassay and Quirk Factor Research Labs, correct?” Naomasa asked.

“Yes.”

“How is that lab involved? Is the Good Doctor involved with the research it conducts?”

Tetsumi tried to cross her arms and sighed when the chains caught again. She crossed her legs, “That wasn’t my business.”

“A lie,” Wright said from behind Toshinori. “There is something more there we can look into. Possibly connected to the alias Morou.”

“When you were asked to train the new staff at Ando, what else were you involved in?” Naomasa asked.

Tetsumi pressed her lips in a thin line, “I was doing my job training the replacements of those who were more comfortable after their transfer.”

“And?” Naomasa looked up from his notepad, “What did All for One order you to do?”

“Someone needed to evaluate who would take over for the reduced workload,” Tetsumi said after some hesitation, “I was moving on to Rishi General Hospital, and the warehouse was under too much scrutiny for full operations.”

“Full operations?” Naomasa pressed.

Tetsumi shrugged a shoulder, “Creation of noumu.”

“And reduced operations would be?”

Tetsumi shifted uncomfortably, “Evaluating quirks belonging to hospice patients. Occasionally handle a volunteer…”

No one would volunteer for that, Toshinori knew, feeling the grit under his fingertip. He dug the tip of his claw in.

Bellamy shook his head, pacing to the cooler to get water, “She has doubt now. It is new, and she does not like that she is feeling it. She didn’t doubt All for One before, I think. She feels she needs to protect herself. Given the aforementioned assassination attempts, it makes sense that she would want to look after her own interests.”

“These volunteers,” Naomasa tapped his notepad, “Were they ever conscious when you saw them?”

Tetsumi looked away, “No.”

Naomasa nodded grimly and asked, “Who replaced you?”

Tetsumi sighed. Hesitated. Looked at the photos again. Furrowed her brows.

“Akane Imani,” she finally said.

Naomasa wrote it down, his felt-tip pen scratching dryly and crackling the speaker overhead.

Shhk-

“Jedha Central Hospital,” Tetsumi continued, “I only know that is where certain samples were sent if there was ever a problem post-surgery.”

“Certain samples?” Naomasa asked, glancing up from the notepad.

“Corpses,” Tetsumi explained, “Only the Good Doctor was permitted to handle the disposal of noumu.”

-shhk shhk-

Naomasa paused in his writing again and gave Tetsumi a small nod to continue.

“Tanta Mountain Emergency Care,” Tetsumi said, “Completed noumu were sent to the mountains in that area. My time there was short, but that underground system was the largest I’ve seen—and I only saw what must have been a very small portion.”

Naomasa wrote it down and waited.

Tetsumi sat back in her chair, “That’s all.”

-shhk shhk-

“That’s all?” Naomasa’s face remained neutral, “Ando Hospice Care, Jedha Central Hospital, and Tanta Mountain Emergency Care. Only those? You were working for All for One when you were employed at Kamino Ward Hospice.”

Tetsumi’s lips pressed in a thin line, and she said, “I helped Sensei collect quirks that would have otherwise died out. I wasn’t involved with noumu until Ando.”

“Can you think of anything else?” Naomasa asked.

-shhk shhk-

“The vats are numbered and tracked in some way to prevent losses,” Tetsumi said. “That’s all I know.”

Naomasa sat back, still holding his notepad. He let the silence stretch long and thin until Tetsumi shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“That’s all ,” she said, adding bitterly, “Sensei didn’t share anything more with me.”

Nodding, Naomasa stood, “Thank you for your cooperation.”

-shhk!

“Ah-” Toshinori flinched, pulling his hand from the tiled wall and shaking his stinging finger. He held it up to the light coming from the interrogation room. The tip of his pointer finger claw was filed down and cracked to the quick. White grout dusted his fingertip.

Nausea curled sourly in Toshinori’s gut as he looked up at the wall and found a scratched divot in the grout, stained with a drop of his own blood.

The buzzing of the door startled him back into awareness.

Naomasa walked in and waited for the door to close behind him before turning to Toshinori.

“Akane Imani is heading whatever operation is at Ando Hospice Care. We need to do another sweep of Jedha Central Hospital and look into Tanta,” he said, handing Toshinori the small stack of photographs, “We have those leads now because of you.”

Toshinori managed a tired grin, pocketing the photos with his sore hand, “Let’s get to work then.”

Wright, Bellamy, and Naomasa gathered their files, talking in hushed tones about possible angles of investigation into these new leads. Above them, the speaker crackled again.

Inside the interrogation room, the prisoners’ side door buzzed. The two guards returned and unhooked Tetsumi’s handcuffs from the table. Tetsumi stood, allowing the two guards to readjust her handcuffs and attach her to the larger guard’s belt.

Toshinori watched her straighten her prison garb, looking as severe as he remembered her at Rishi. Behind him, Wright, Bellamy, and Naomasa buzzed the door to the hallway and began filing out.

“Coming?” Naomasa called gently.

Toshinori blinked away fog and turned to the door, “Yes-”

“Noumu,” Tetsumi called, her voice tinny in the speaker.

Toshinori shuddered, his hackles standing on end.

“When you get to the vault door in the mountains,” Tetsumi paused for a beat, “there will be a keypad under a panel on the wall. Use the code: 11-430-42. Don’t bother to thank me… It’s for Isamu.”

Nozomi Shishiki watched the patterns of color shift across the back of her lifted hand. She finally worked out how to change the colors at will if she focused hard enough. It was strange in a way she couldn’t express to her cell neighbors. She had been Quirkless all her life, and suddenly she had a new ability, something that would have been impossible before. What started out terrifying had slowly grown into a curiosity, then a puzzle to be solved.

How many young adult books had she read where the protagonist gained abilities beyond their control and gradually learned to wield them for a greater good? As a child of parents with quirks and a sibling to particularly gifted brothers, it hadn’t seemed fair that they could bring illustrations from their childhood books to life and fly with magic carpets only they could touch. They had been able to bring the magic of books to this world while Nozomi buried herself in their pages. It was childish, she knew, and she had eventually come to terms with her quirklessness in the middle of an extraordinary family. Nozomi found her own adventures and learned to fly in her own way. In her opinion, open water diving was a kind of flying.

How could she explain to the others that, now that she had some control over this admittedly simple ability, it gave her a giddy thrill? How could they relate to the wonder of having a new ability well into her 50s? Not that Nozomi would bring it up. It was insensitive to the others whose bodies were changing in ways that scared them. It wasn’t reasonable to find a spark of wonder in this place, was it?

Biting her bottom lip, she flexed her fingers and turned her skin a brilliant sea blue dappled with shifting white. She mimicked the memory of brightly lit shallows, and the resulting flicker of colors brought a smile to her face.

“Pretty,” Taeka Yoyogi said beside her. “Thinking about swimming?”

Nozomi hummed, pulling her hand to her chest with a faint guilty jolt, “I planned to go on a dive trip this week. I had my bags packed already. My husband thinks I’m silly for packing so early, but I wanted to be sure I wasn’t missing anything. An old dive buddy from Chiba was going to meet up with me.”

“Sounds fun,” Taeka said softly. She sighed and stretched her golden-brown wings as much as her cramped cell allowed. The flight feathers brushed the ceiling and bent in a graceful arc.

“They look like they stopped growing,” Nozomi said, rolling onto her side and considering the massive wingspan.

“Good,” Taeka huffed and tucked them close to her sides. She sat back on her haunches and pressed a paw-like hand to her abdomen, “I don’t need to be the one growing.”

“Can you feel anything yet?” Chris asked, shifting heavily on his crushed cot. Quartz glittered over his stony armor, and he nibbled on a bit of rock the Doctor had left behind. He made a face, then nibbled on it again, and made another face as if he couldn’t decide if he liked it. “You know, like, kicking?”

“It’s a little early for that,” Taeka said, “but I haven’t had any other symptoms besides morning sickness. I’ll take that over the alternative.”

“We’ll be alright,” Nozomi said, sitting up on her cot. She scooted to lean against the back wall of her cell and turned her attention to Mirai and Souma. The two were in deep conversation, signing and drawing on the shifting sand in both of their cells.

“-can’t see illusions when I look into my future,” Mirai signed to Souma, “I only see how I react to them. If I can-”

Nozomi leaned her head back on the wall and closed her eyes. She could imagine herself floating on the open sea, the waves rocking her gently with the sun warming her skin from above. She missed the ocean. She missed her books. She missed her husband, who was probably beside himself with worry.

“Footsteps,” Taeka warned suddenly.

Nozomi sat up, cold fear trickling down her spine.

Mirai echoed the warning in sign to Souma and swept at the sand into a corner of her cell where it stretched into a thin line along the wall.

Across the room, the door swung open. The masked noumu lumbered in, followed by the Doctor. He carried an awfully familiar case.

Oh no… Nozomi stared at the case, hearing the way her neighbors shifted back in their cells.

The Doctor set the case on the counter and pulled out two vials. He held them up into the light, a smile on his mustached face.

More quirks? But we all have one already, Nozomi looked around at the others. Then it occurred to her. They all had been given one quirk each. She was the only person here with only one quirk.

“Shimeno, Shishiki,” the Doctor said.

Nozomi’s breath caught in her chest.

“You both are doing remarkably well,” the Doctor said, loading two syringes with the contents of the vials. “Congratulations. I think you are ready for another quirk.”

Souma stood, signing in fast, sharp, sweeping gestures. Steam puffed off the copper and black scales that covered his arms.

“No,” Mirai shook her head. Her voice shook.

She’s our runner. She can’t-

“G-give them both to me,” Nozomi choked out the words. She shuddered, her skin flashing the dangerous black and yellow stripes of a sea snake.

" Nozomi,"  Taeka hissed.

“I only have one. Mirai already has two, so-” Nozomi’s voice faltered as the Doctor considered her more closely. “It’s only fair.”

The Doctor hummed, mulling the thought over.

“Two for you then,” he decided.

“Nozomi…” Mirai breathed. She pressed a hand to the wall of her cell, her brows pinched with relief and guilt under her curved ram horns.

The Doctor chuckled, turned, and retrieved a third syringe, “And one for Shimeno.”

“No!” Nozomi shouted, standing from her cot.

The masked noumu opened the door to Mirai’s cell and reached inside. Mirai jerked back, chains crashing loudly, and yelped when the noumu yanked her arm forward.

“Calm down,” the Doctor chided, “These aren’t nearly as potent. You’ll hardly notice the difference.”

With practiced, impersonal ease, the Doctor slipped the needle into Mirai’s arm, pressed the plunger down, and pulled it from her skin.

Mirai yanked her arm back the moment the noumu let her go, her breaths coming in panicked gasps. She squeezed and pinched at her skin, only drawing out a drop of blood.

Then the noumu was in front of Nozomi’s cell and opening the door.

“No, don’t!” Nozomi demanded, crying out when the noumu grabbed her chained wrist and dragged her forward.

“Come now,” the Doctor tutted, readying the first syringe, “This is what you wanted, after all.”

“I thought I was past this already,” Toshinori sighed, scrubbing the heel of his palm under his tired eyes. “Genuinely, I did.”

Naomasa snorted, setting down two paper plates loaded with takeout. He slid Toshinori’s across to him, “Aren’t you being a little overdramatic?”

Toshinori looked up, mouth open in shock, “Overdramatic? I’m insulted.” He pointed to the incident report with his bandaged finger. “I thought that when I retired, I wouldn’t need to do these anymore. Now I find out that isn’t the case.”

“Eat your food,” Naomasa said and sat down to his own serving of noodles. “I let you hold off on it, but the due date is coming up, and I’m getting questions from the chief about the altercation.”

The conference room was empty around them. Wright’s team had long since wrapped up for the day and returned to their lodgings. Outside the room, the night shift workers were filing into the offices, their murmuring filling the halls as they settled at their desks.

Toshinori picked at his stir-fried veggies, looking over the incident report questions. When and where were easy enough. The order of events and his own actions…

“I’ve been meaning to ask. How did it go after I left?” Toshinori asked, writing down the essential details. Three villains, all with quirks, two hostages, etc.

Naomasa shrugged, swallowing a bite of his noodles, “Fairly standard when backup arrived. Apparently, that group was interested in those two kids because they can temporarily give the properties of gold to objects. They had some get-rich-quick scheme.”

Toshinori flicked his tail, looking Naomasa in the eye, “And before backup arrived?”

Naomasa sighed, his expression growing troubled, “Some people made the connection, but most thought you were a new hero trying to take All Might’s line or using a voice modulator to create a distraction. I did what I could to explain that you were only a part-time hero assisting me, and you were off the clock. All true, technically. The other two heroes who were present weren’t convinced. I requested that they not spread unfounded rumors.”

Toshinori knew how requests like that went with heroes still new to the field. Not well.

“It will be alright,” Naomasa said. He slid his foot over and bumped Toshinori’s tail with the toe of his indoor slipper. “You weren’t in your new suit, so that disguise of yours might actually hold while we work.”

Toshinori poked at a bit of zucchini on his plate.

And if it does get out? If it distracts from the case and puts U.A. under the microscope again? If it affects the kids…

Toshinori rubbed at his forehead.

“It was going to get out sooner or later, between the videos, photos, and now this,” he reasoned, mostly to himself. He tried to will away the dread forming a knot in his gut. “I could only delay the inevitable so long. I’ll have to work with Nedzu again if it comes to making a formal statement.”

Naomasa hummed in agreement around a bite of pork katsu.

Toshinori huffed a laugh, flicking the side of Naomasa’s shin with his tail, “You sound like you are taking this very seriously.” He reached across the table and stole a piece of katsu, placing it on his own plate.

Naomasa frowned, affronted, “It’s been a long day, and you need to eat too. And I do mean eat , not just push it around. Don’t borrow tomorrow’s problems today. Besides,” his expression softened as Toshinori put a couple pieces of sweet potato on his plate, “no matter what comes out, it can’t be harder to handle than what you managed to do today.”

“Ah, well… it needed to be done,” Toshinori said noncommittally and ate a bite of his stir fry. He wrote the last of the necessary details on his incident report and slid it over for Naomasa to inspect.

Naomasa barely glanced at it before sighing.

“Damn it. What did I do wrong?” Toshinori groaned, leaning closer to look over the handwritten report. I should have paid more attention to-

“Did…” Naomasa bumped Toshinori’s tail again with the toe of his slipper, “Did she call you that when you were at Rishi?”

Toshinori blinked in surprise and wrapped the tufted end of his tail around Naomasa’s ankle, “What?”

“Did Inoshita talk to you like that—the way she spoke to you today—the whole time you were trapped under Rishi?” Naomasa asked, his dark eyes troubled.

“Oh. Not exactly,” Toshinori’s brows pinched, and he shook away the memories, “She was more smug. Now, she’s mostly spiteful. It made a difference that I was able to talk back, I think.” He squeezed Naomasa’s ankle and straightened his suit jacket, putting as much swagger as he could into his smile, “It probably threw her off that I was dressed so well. The last time she saw me, I was only wearing pants—and they were holding on by a thread!”

Naomasa looked to the ceiling, covering his mouth, and huffed a laugh that sounded somewhere between exasperation and awe.

“What? ” Toshinori laughed.

“You still asked to talk with her after all that. Have you always been like this, and I just didn’t notice?” Naomasa asked, shaking his head.

Toshinori grinned, tail wiggling under the table.

“No, of course you’ve always been like this,” Naomasa admitted to himself.

“My old mentor did say I was crazy,” Toshinori chuckled.

Naomasa scoffed, “I’m beginning to think that was an understatement. Crazy. Brave. No wonder I-” He choked on a breath and turned to cough.

Naomasa’s ears were red again.

Toshinori’s hackles pricked down his back as the air buzzed with static between them, and his chest rumbled with a contented purr.

What in the world? Toshinori patted his chest, confused by the strange satisfaction he felt seeing Naomasa blush. He fought the sudden desire to get up and run from the room. His heart was beating too fast to just be sitting. All this because Naomasa kissed me?

Naomasa cleared his throat, still turned away, and his ears still burned that captivating red.

Huh. Toshinori reached across the table and poked Naomasa’s ear with a capped claw.

Naomasa nearly jumped out of his chair, covering his ear and turning to stare at Toshinori.

Toshinori raised his hands, nearly as shocked as Naomasa looked.

“You’re blushing,” Toshinori explained lamely.

Naomasa stiffened and scrubbed a hand down his face.

“I don’t think that’s going to fix it,” Toshinori said. His tail let go of Naomasa’s ankle to thump against the floor.

Naomasa groaned, resting his elbows on the table, and cradled his face in his hands, “I know. I know. ”

“Do you think we ought to…?” Toshinori started again, touching his cheek. He bumped his foot against Naomasa’s. “We should talk about what happened the other day. When you kissed-”

The door to the conference room opened, and Toshinori nearly swallowed his own tongue.

Gran Torino peered at the two of them and took a bite of his taiyaki.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked gruffly through a mouthful of red bean paste. When they didn’t—couldn’t—answer, Gran Torino shook his head. “Quit playing footsie and meet me down the hall. I found a lead on Kurogiri.”

Fab Fan Art

Incognito by divinedirestar

What is this feeling? by @suolainensilakka

4 Dabloons by @chaoticnebu