[League Of Villains Headquarters: Two Days Prior]
The bar was quieter than usual. Deidoro had finally passed out in the corner, sake bottle still clutched in one hand. The TV cycled through news reports—hero rankings, cri statistics, speculation about the Hero Killer’s next move.
Shigaraki sat at the newly replaced table, eyes were fixed on the speaker mounted on the wall.
Waiting.
Finally, All For One’s distorted voice filled the room. "Tomura. I trust your negotiations with the Hero Killer went well?"
"Well enough," Shigaraki muttered. "He agreed to work with us. Sort of. It’s more like... mutual exploitation."
"Hmm. Good." All for one replied in approval. "That is the foundation of all successful alliances. Each side believing they are using the other. So what did you promise him?"
"Endeavor."
"Oh. You plan to go after the Number Two Hero?"
"Yeah. We’re planning to hit Hosu during the coming week. Maximum chaos. Draw out the pros, including Endeavor. Let Stain do what he does best while the League makes a statent."
With Stain’s increase in attacks, there was no doubt that the more capable heroes would co after him.
Endeavor himself had given a statent on the news.
"Ambitious," All For One said. "And I’m guessing you want resources?"
"Nomu." Shigaraki leaned forward slightly.
"Enough to force the heroes to spread thin. How many are ready?"
"Hmm. I have finished adjusting the behaviour of Six of them."
Shigaraki’s eyes widened slightly behind Father’s palm. "Six? That’s more than I expected."
"The doctor has been productive." All For One’s tone was neutral. "However, these are not on the level of the one you deployed at U.S.J."
"That’s all I need. Give them to ."
"... Very well. Make this a learning experience, Tomura,"
"Hmm .." Shigaraki was stunned. "Just like that?"
"The Nomu are tools, but the chaos they sow is a harvest. Your plan is good enough to take all of them. See what grows when the people realize their Number Two is just a man in a burning suit."
"I intend to," Shigaraki grinned.
The speaker clicked.
The screen went dark.
Shigaraki sat in silence for a long mont, staring at his reflection in the blackened screen.
Then he stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor.
"Kurogiri."
The mist villain materialized from the shadows behind the bar. "Yes, Tomura?"
"How’s it going?"
"The ’Sightings’ of the Hero Killer have been circulated. It won’t be long before the guest of honour takes the bait."
"Perfect. Master agreed. Six Nomu. We’ll deploy them in waves. Hosu’s entertainnt district, the business sector, residential zones—spread them out."
Kurogiri nodded slowly. "A sound strategy. When do we—"
The door to the hideout creaked open. Heavy footsteps echoed through the bar.
Rappa walked in, coat dusted with gri, knuckles bruised and bloodied. He looked like he’d just co from a fight—or several.
Shigaraki hissed. "Where the hell have you been? I was about to have Kurogiri mark you as ’trash’ and find a replacent."
"Business," Rappa grunted, grabbing a bottle of water from behind the bar. "Ran into so old faces from the Hassaikai. Specifically, the guy who used to be the boss’s shadow. Chronostasis."
Kurogiri turned. "Hari Kurono. He was presud to have vanished following the collapse."
"Now he’s back." Rappa dropped onto a crate, rolling his shoulders. "Turns out so of the old crew are still together. They wanted answers about what happened to the boss that night."
"And you gave them?"
"Yeah. Problem?"
Kurogiri’s eyes narrowed in thought.
"It would seem the remnants of the Hassaikai are investigating their leader’s death. Revenge perhaps?"
"I wouldn’t be surprised." Rappa grunted. "Clockwork was his previous right hand man. It won’t surprise if they go after the kid for answers."
"Hmm. So the Yakuza are still scurrying around like rats." Shigaraki chuckled. "How pathetic. Chasing ghosts and wounded pride while the world is moving on. Let them. If they kill the brat, it’s one less hero for to deal with. If they fail, they’re just more trash for the incinerator."
"Not exactly, Tomura." All for one’s voice re-erged from the speaker. "Master?"
"Rappa. These Hassaikai remnants—how many?"
"Uh... Not sure. three, maybe four."
A few seconds passed without a word. Then,
"Kurogiri."
"Yes, Master?"
"The boy will begin his internship Monday. Monitor him. Discreetly."
Kurogiri’s yellow eyes flickered. "You wish to observe the him specifically?"
"I am... curious." All For One’s voice carried faint amusent. "If these Hassaikai remnants truly intend to pursue him, keep a close watch on them. I want to see how the boy reacts when the shadows of his past finally catch up to him. It would be interesting to see if the ’Vigilante’ appears once more to save him."
"And if the boy is captured? Or killed?"
"Then we learn sothing valuable regardless." All For One’s tone was bland. "If he dies, his threat is eliminated. If he survives, we gain insight into his abilities. Either outco serves our interests."
Shigaraki’s scratching intensified. "You want Kurogiri to babysit so kid instead of helping with the Hosu operation?"
"Kurogiri is more than capable of dividing his attention," All For One replied. "Your plan will proceed as scheduled. Either way, Kurogiri, do not interfere unless an opportunity presents itself to preserve useful assets. Should these remnants prove capable, they may serve Tomura’s League in the future"
The mist-man straightened. "Yes, Master?"
__
[Current Day, - Onboard the Shinkansen]
The rhythmic clack-clack of the train on the tracks was hypnotic. Beside Yuta, Uraraka had finally stopped her excited chatter about Gunhead’s training and had drifted into a light doze, her head tilted against the window.
’Sothing’s wrong.’
Yuta didn’t sleep.
He sat with his duffel bag on his lap, senses were dialed to the maximum. The first thing he noticed was the change in the air.
A faint, sweet chemical scent drifting from the overhead ventilation. It had the sa effect as Midnight’s Somnambulist Quirk.
’A sleeping agent?’
He felt the sedative entering his system, detected the chemical trying to bind to his neural receptors, and accelerated his tabolism.
Hormones Flooded his bloodstream.
The drowsiness faded almost as quickly as it ca.
His eyes turned blood red. Around him, the effect was imdiate.
The elderly woman three rows ahead stopped knitting, her head drooping forward. The salaryman’s grip on his briefcase loosened. The young mother’s eyes fluttered shut, her toddler already unconscious in her lap.
One by one, every passenger in the car slumped into chemically induced sleep.
Uraraka’s breathing deepened beside him, her phone slipping from her fingers.
’What the .. Is this a villain attack?’
In the world of superhumans, a Train Hijacking wasn’t an exaggeration. He rembered the beginning of MHA where a Mount Lady and Kamui Woods were dealing with a giant man in train tracks.
It wasn’t the sa situation, but still.
Just then ..
Thud!
The sound ca from several rows back.
Yuta’s Sharingan tracked the movent through the reflection in the window. The train entered a brief, dark tunnel. In the darkness, a figure stood up from their seat. Tall. Lean. Dark coat that hung past their knees. White hair visible beneath a low-brimd hat.
The figure turned.
Half of their face was obscured by a black mask that covered from the bridge of their nose down to their chin. Above it, golden eyes glead in the dim cabin lighting.
Those eyes locked onto Yuta’s reflection in the window.
Instantly, his expression hardened.
Their hand shot up to their head—to the clock-hand ornant protruding from white hair—and with a swift, practiced motion, they pulled.
A strand of white hair extended impossibly long, hardening into a needle-thin projectile that launched across the cabin straight at Yuta’s head.
’Terrorist Attack!’
Yuta’s body moved before the man attacked. Leaping off his seat in a blur of motion. The hair-needle punched through the headrest where his skull had been a split-second earlier, embedding itself deep into the cushioning with a soft thwip.
"He’s still awake!"
The masked man’s gaze followed Yuta standing upside down on the roof.
Yuta’s eyes widened. ’Hold on. I’m the ...?’
The sound behind interrupted his thoughts.
Dressed in similar clothing, but with a black cape and black bowler hat, a man stood from behind, drawing a gun out of his clothing and fired.
__
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