Giran's POV:
I stared in shock and bewilderment at the sole tv in the room, depicting a perpetually burning Might Tower in the background, lighting up the sky brighter than the moonlight, or any of the stars present.
"The kid... actually got himself caught?" I muttered aloud, cigar dislodging from its steady place in-between my teeth as my jaw went slack.
My usual perpetual grin faded in a flash, instead replaced with a disbelieving expression, eyes glued onto the tv screen.
"But how...? I thought he was..." The purple haired kid spoke up, but I interrupted his words before he could get them all out.
"Stronger than that, right? That's what you were going to say?" I questioned, eyes snapping over to Shinso, who gave a careful nod of confirmation.
"So did I. Emerald didn't go down without a fight, though, that's for sure. He'd rather die than let Endeavor catch him... So, how did he still get caught?" I voiced my thoughts, pinching the bridge of my nose, a deep sigh escaping my mouth.
"And with that, I just lost my current best and most interesting client," I thought to myself, getting up to my feet, leaving the tv running for the boy to keep watching if he so wanted.
"But, wasn't he supposed to help me? What do I do now?" Shinso asked, concerned.
"Don't worry. If there is one thing I learned from the kid is that he never breaks his promises. He promised to help you, and he would. He won't be gone for long, no matter how bad the situation may be for him," I explained, crushing the fallen cigar in between my fingers.
"In the meantime, you'll remain here. He was supposed to train you so that you could protect yourself in a fight, but it seems that I'll have to do it. Just be aware that I'm not that great of a fighter, so you will only learn the bare minimum from me."
<•——————•>
Stendhal's POV:
I watched with disgust and disdain as the grown man ran away, crying like a child, blood pooling out from his limbs, a few knives embedded into his flesh.
My eyes narrowed as I simply walked towards fleeing man.
He wasn't very fast, likely due to his current lower body injuries. Torn muscles and overwhelmed ligaments acted against my target, preventing him from getting very far before he inevitably fell to the ground.
"No, no! Please!"
I scoffed, shaking my head in disdain. I hadn't even gotten close to the man, and he's already begging for his life. Pathetic.
Emerald was right. Everything he said in that little video of his was absolutely correct. I knew it all before, but now, my beliefs were hardened to an even greater extent.
The groveling man attempting to crawl away, using the last bit up strength in his arms to pull himself further and further away from me, the sick scent of fear filling the air.
"So this is who you really are?" I said, less of a question and more of a statement.
"Pl-please, don't do this..." The man begged once more.
In response, I stabbed him in the shoulder, a small geyser of blood spewing out, separating in multiple directions as my blade parted the blood splatters.
The man screamed in agony as I violently yanked my katana from his shoulder, carving out a significant piece of flesh.
I raised the katana up to my mouth, swiftly licking some of the blood off of it.
I watched as the man seized all body movements, going completely limp. One would assume that he was dead. However, it's just my quirk's primary effect.
"Wh-Why ca-can't I move...?" the man questioned, straining to even get those words out as he choked on his own fear.
"You false hero..." I muttered, lowering my katana.
"Wh-What?"
"Silence," I ordered.
"You were there," I said. "You were there at the destruction of Might Tower."
"I saw you on the live broadcast. You sat there, doing nothing while Emerald likely gave it his all," I said, slowly pressing my katana up against the whimpering man's neck.
"No one else paid you any mind, but I did. I saw how you stood there and watched the building go up in flames over and over again, too scared to save the innocent lives that were trapped inside the crumbling building."
"Th-there was nothing I c-could d—"
In one swift motion, the man's right ear flew through the air, emancipated from the head, blood pooling out from the wound.
I stomped on the man's head before he could scream, pressing his face onto the ground, muffling his screams of pain so that no one aside from me could hear.
"You couldn't do anything because your quirk wasn't suited for the job, yes?" I questioned, saying the nonsense that what the man was only a few seconds away from spouting.
"A hero's job is to protect and save civilians. That's what your job is. It is your responsibility. Your goddamn quirk does not matter. Emerald doesn't have a quirk, and yet he did what you couldn't."
The man's eyes widened in shock.
"D-doesn't have a q-quirk...?"
I didn't answer the man's question, instead hardening my glare to an even greater extent.
"That child was captured by Endeavor because he did what you and so many other heroes on the scene couldn't."
"You're lucky Allmight arrived at the scene, albeit a bit late. He was able to prevent many the deaths of many people who likely would've died without his presence. He is a true hero. Unlike you," I said, just barely cutting into the man's neck with my blade.
I pressed his face even harder into the ground, not wanting to hear another word from the man's mouth.
"Hiding in a crowd of panicking people while others do your job is an action that makes you the furthest thing from a hero that I can possibly imagine."
"You are a false hero."
"Die."
The man let out one last muffled scream for help, but no once but me could possibly hear him.
With one swift slash, I decapitated the man, taking a page out of Emerald's group.
I small smile graced my lips as I flicked my blade up, blood flying from my blade and splattering on the walls and floor.
"The vigilante Stendhal dies tonight... My mission must change, for the better," I thought to myself.
I spat on the decapitated corpse of the false hero, turning away from the body, sheathing my blade.
I made my way over to the alleyways exit, wiping off the blood that had splattered onto my face.
"I must make a new mission, one without false heroes like him. I'll make sure I prevail. I'll make sure of--"
A sharp, freezing cold sensation slithered uo my spine, prompting me to halt all movements immediately.
"Izu has told me about you."
My heart skipped a beat at the realization of a new presence, casually speaking to me in an unbothered tone of voice.
As fast as I could, I spun my body around to face the new person, unsheathing my blade as I directed it towards the exact spot I believed the new individual was standing.
Clash
Clang
My eyes widened in shock and disbelief, realizing that my hands were now empty, only grasping at the empty air as my brain attempted to process what had just happened.
I barely managed to catch a glimpse of the new individual before I was thrown into a wall with incredible force.
"Agh!"
I reached down for one of my other blades, grounding my stance in preparation for another attack, however, faster than I could even understand, a katana was pointed directly at my neck.
"You've got skill," the new person complemented. I looked down at my right hand , the one that had unsheathed my second blade, only then realizing that that blade too, had fallen from my grasp, just like the first one.
"The hell?" I muttered to myself, eyes flicking back up at the person, who I now identified as a female wearing similar clothing to that of Emerald.
"You're Stendhal, right?" The woman asked, a bit of cheeriness and seriousness in her voice at the same time. "I heard of your encounter with Izuku."
"Izuku...? The hell are you talking about?" I spat, gritting my teeth in frustration for not having sensed whoever this was before getting in such a situation.
"Emerald," she clarified, moving her katana away from my neck, sheathing it back in one swift motion.
"Sorry about that, but I wanted to see if you were as skilled as he said you were," she said. "You're about as good as I thought you'd be."
I raised an eyebrow at that statement. Was that supposed to be a complement or an insult? I couldn't tell.
"What does it matter that I've interacted with the kid?" I growled, raising a hand to my neck to check if this woman's katana had nicked me.
"Because you may know something I don't," she replied, a small sincere smile gracing her face.
I narrowed my eyes with suspicion and intrigue, standing up straight as I sensed something deeper underlying that single statement.
"Speak."
<•——————•>
Izuku's POV:
"Get in!"
I stumbled forward, kegs wobbling ever-so-slightly before eventually failing to keep me standing.
I fell to the ground with a painful thud, letting out a shaky breath.
Bang
The metal door slammed behind me, shutting with immense force, causing me to flinch a bit in surprise.
"Damnit..."
I leaned my back against the door, hitting it with my arm a single time out of frustration and disappointment.
I balled my hands tightly into fists, gripping at my baggy kimono, only to immediately regret doing that as a sharp, unbearable pain shot through my hands.
I stared down at my burned and blistered hands as a result of my anti-demon bombs and dad's fire. And to make it worse, they were painfully and tightly chained together at the wrists by a set of handcuffs.
In normal circumstances, I'd easily have enough strength to snap the handcuffs in half, but now... my strength is far too diminished. I can't strain myself.
Never mind the fact that I'm still bleeding out. That damn Endeavor didn't even let the paramedics attend to my injuries. Not even a little.
Honestly, I'm surprised that I'm still conscious.
On the bright side, Endeavor left, so I won't have to deal with his constant demeaning comments.
I brought my legs closer to myself, hugging them tight to my chest, head buried slightly. I could feel my body heat dropping at an alarming rate. This was all I could think of to keep myself warm for a little longer.
I thought back to an interview I always loved listening to. It was between Allmight and a popular news reporter. If I remember correctly, Allmight had just been bombarded with many questions from citizens due to the fact that he saved the villain he was fighting from being crushed under a pile of rubble.
"As heroes, it is our job to prevent as much death as we possibly can. That includes preventing a villain's death. I saw a chance to save his life, and so I did. However, even so, at times, we must pick and choose who we save. This relates to why heroes don't kill the villains we fight. We'd much rather prevent as much bloodshed as possible, on our side, on the civilian side, and on the villain's side as well."
What a load of crap.
Now that I am in the situation that I'm in, I now realize just how idiotic that was to believe.
I'm dying right now. I'm not losing anymore blood, but... sooner or later, my body will give up on me. It's just a matter of when. Not if but when.
I let a few tears fall as I scanned every nook and cranny of the room I was now in.
It looked awfully familiar to those interrogation rooms you'd see in those detective shows. In fact, that's exactly what this was.
I metal table in the center with a metal chair on each side. A grayish, blandly colored room. One way viewing glass on the left wall of the room.
So they saw fit to interrogate me instead of worrying about my well-being...
And now I'll have to sit here with my thoughts until I'm finally in the company of my interrogator.
My arms and legs began to involuntarily tremble in trepidation as memories of my father continued flooding in.
Over the past couple years, I did my best in surprising those memories. All of the overwhelming and scary memories of being hit whenever I even looked at him for a second.
But... the scarier memories were of how he would hit mom, solely to get a rise out of me.
I'd always plead with him to stop, ask him why he was hitting her.
He'd always say the same thing.
"Show me what you can do and kill me for what I'm doing."
Back then, I always assumed he was mocking me, making me feel even worse than I already had.
Don't get me wrong, that was definitely part of it. But now... I feel like... he genuinely wanted me to do something about it.
To this day, I can't understand why. I desperately want to understand everything. I truly, truly do.
But... I doubt I can now.
I've lost. He beat me. He proved just how weak I am in less than an hour. I wasn't even able to land a meaningful attack. I couldn't even strike his neck, let alone decapitate him.
I'm too weak.
You're too weak.
Yeah, I know...
I could feel my breathing begin to grow unsteady once again, just like in my fight with him.
He's just too strong. Way too strong. I've never seen a lower moon with his level of strength. I remember going on so many missions with sensei. In some of them, we'd encounter lower moons, similar to the one that killed mom all those years ago.
But sensei would defeat them in three strikes at maximum.
But dad... Dragon... Lower 1...
He was nothing like I'd ever seen before. He held back, and even then, even while holding back, I think it would still take sensei at least 15 slashes to kill him at the power he was demonstrating during the fight.
It may not seem like much, but I've watched sensei kill a group of 75 demons in only ten slashes.
I desperately wanted to kill him, but I'm nowhere near strong enough. Would I ever be strong enough?
My mind went back to the way dad looked down at his broken mask that I had sliced through. He looked... furious, but at the same time, a bit scared.
Does that mask have some other meaning? Some other purpose? Was he not supposed to take that off. By his reaction, it sure seemed that way. In what way was that mask important? Could it possibly—
The metal door in the other end of the room swung open, hitting the interior wall a bit, startling me as my eyes shot up to glance at the new presence.
Or rather, at the new presences.
One of them I instantly recognized. The tall, aloof man that was Eraserhead met my gaze.
The second person seemed to be a detective, sporting a brown suit and hat, along with a pen and clipboard.
The third person was a rat, cat, dog, mouse, bear thing, who sat on Eraser's shoulder.
I scowled slightly but instantly became slightly confused as I watched their once serious expressions morph into... concern?
"What the hell happened to you?!" Eraserhead yelled, practically marching his way over to me, as the rat creature hopped off his shoulder, safely landing on top of the metal table. I didn't make a move to get up or shift away from him.
I tilted my head to the side in confusion.
"How did you get those kinds of injuries?" The detective questioned, taking a few steps forward.
I didn't answer, instead burying my head deeper into my arms and knees in annoyance.
"Kid, look at me," Eraserhead said, no, demanded, reaching a hand out to me.
However, I smacked his hand away with my cuffed hands, sending a glare of anger and frustration his way. Either the man is less aware than I originally thought he'd be, or he didn't give a damn about my intimidation tactics.
Instead, he reached behind him with one hand and forcibly grabbed my left arm with the other.
"Don't touch me," I spat with venom.
The aloof man ignored me, instead pulling out what looked to be a... a white box...? Is that a—
Before I could even process what the man was about to do, he was already doing it, revealing a plethora of different kinds of bandages, band-aids, and medical tools.
My eyes widened slightly as he stuck a bandage onto my cheek, over a pretty noticeable gash caused by one of dad's sharp scales.
"Yo-you're...—"
"I'm patching you up, kid," Eraser said. "Where the hell were the paramedics?" He asked, directed towards the rat creature.
"Oh, they were sent. But it would seem as though a certain someone didn't allow the boy to get medical treatment," Nezu stated, expression nearly unreadable, but I could still see a small glint of disdain in the creature's eyes.
Eraser only let out a huff in response, immediately turning his attention back to me, as he carefully rolled up the arm sleeves of my kimono, wrapping my arms up in white bandages, quickly moving on to the visible gashes caused by the storm of scales.
Finally, I shifted away from the aloof man, a lump forming in my throat. Although, I wasn't sure if it was because of sorrow or gratitude.
"Th-that's... enough, thank yo Eraserhead," I meekly said, slowly pushing myself up to my feet.
"Emerald, you still need medical treatment. You could've died from blood loss," the detective insisted.
"This... this is enough. I'll be fine, I promise," I said.
I was only half-lying. I could definitely work with this for much longer than I would have without the bandages. However, I couldn't strain myself, nor could I move around too much.
"But—"
"Now, now, Detective. I'm sure young Emerald here knows what he's talking about," the rat creature said.
It was only then that I realized just who this rat was.
"Now, if you please. Come sit, we have some questions we'd like you to answer. Clear up any misunderstandings there may be," Nezu said, still standing on top of the metal table, hands, or paws behind his back.
I narrowed my eyes at the UA principal, hesitating for a few moments.
"Fine," I reluctantly muttered, barely audible to the three others in the room, slowly and carefully making my way over to the chair sitting at the end of the metal table.
"Do not attempt to lie, Emerald. Our detective here has a lie detector quirk," Nezu informed.
And at that, something clicked in my head.
"Detective Tsukaiuchi?" I thought to myself, not feeling the need nor desire to reveal my knowledge of his name. At least not yet.
"I thought you weren't working with Endeavor. That's what Eraser told me," I said, sending a dark glare over to Nezu.
Nezu only smiled up at me.
"Yes, and he was not lying," Nezu responded, expression painfully unreadable, but my senses told me that he was amused.
"Then why are you here?"
"Well, while the detective is forced to work with Endeavor on this case, Eraserhead and I were forbidden from continuing further research and inspection into the slayer organization case, as well as your case," Nezu explained.
"However, Endeavor nor the HPSC are aware of our presence."
"And I'd like to keep it that way," Tsukaiuchi chimed in. "Our conversation will not be recorded, and every camera in this room has been deactivated."
I didn't say anything, instead looking down at my calloused hands. I simply nodded in acknowledgment and understanding of their explanation.
"Good! Now we may begin," Nezu said.
"First things first, an identity clarification is in order."
I flinched slightly at that, twirling my thumbs together a bit in nervousness. It was an old habit that I couldn't quite get away from.
"Are you Izuku Midoriya?" He questioned, seeming to already know the answer himself, asking me purely for official confirmation.
I only nodded my head, not wanting to verbally answer the question.
"I see..." Nezu muttered to himself, pulling out a small cup of tea from God knows where.
"So does that mean you are indeed quirkless?" Nezu asked, an amused expression on his face as he took a small sip of his tea.
I flinched at the mention of my quirklessness. I wasn't something that had been commented on in a while, so being reminded of it threw me off a little.
"I am," I stated simply, voice cracking a bit.
"True," Tsukaiuchi clarified from behind me.
"How is that possible, though? We assumed you must've been some kind of a late bloomer. Don't get me wrong, kid. Quirkless people can most certainly become just as skilled as you have, but the speed and strength you've demonstrated on multiple occasions. How is that possible?" Eraserhead asked, finally speaking up again.
"Training," I responded.
"Truth," Tsukaiuchi said, a bit of disbelief and uncertainty in his tone.
The room went quiet for several more seconds. Nezu was the first one to recompose himself, clearing his throat lightly.
"And what kind of training could've made you this powerful? Not even U.A. High offers the training required to be on the level you are currently on," Nezu said.
I only shrugged, not knowing what else to say. I couldn't reveal everything about the DS Corps.
"Right. Well, how old are you, Midoriya-Kun?" Nezu asked.
I narrowed my eyes a bit at the use of my last name, but I quickly dismissed it, not caring all too much.
"I'll be twelve soon," I replied.
"Truth," Tsukaiuchi stated, with a bit of concern in his voice.
"I see... we had hoped that was a lie when you told Eraserhead, but it would seem that it was the truth," Nezu muttered.
"Why are you a vigilante? You're a kid. You shouldn't be putting your life in danger so casually," Eraserhead stared, sending me a very serious glare.
I rolled my eyes, looking off to the side a bit.
"I became a vigilante because I wanted to. I went missing when I was 7, remember? I couldn't exactly become an official hero, you know," I said.
Eraserhead looked like he wanted to interject, but Nezu held up a paw to silence him.
"I suppose it makes sense. But, we must know why you joined the slayer organization and what exactly happened to you on the night of your disappearance," Nezu said.
"Your apartment complex was in shambles, and your mother... she... It was not a pretty sight, even I must admit that."
I took a deep breath, holding my breath a bit once memories of that day began flooding into my mind. Memories I'd much rather forget forever.
It was your fault.
It was your fault.
If you had only been stronger, she'd still be alive.
I balled my hands into fists as I fought back against the voices who meant to make me feel even worse than I already constantly do.
"A very bad person attacked us. He killed mom and was going to kill me too, but... someone saved me," I explained, as vaguely as I could as to not reveal too much information.
"I... I owe my everything to them."
Nezu only smiled softly, likely being the only one who heard the last part of my statement as I had said it as quietly as I could.
I made sure to refer to the demon as a "very bad person" so that it would still show up as true under Tsukaiuchi's quirk. I have to keep answering vaguely in order to bypass his quirk.
But... I am grateful for their concern, especially Eraserhead. He actually bandaged me... That's the only reason I'm even giving them tiny pieces of information.
"The person who saved you," Eraserhead began, pushing himself a foot off of the wall he had been leaning on. "They're the person you called 'big sister', right? I remember you mentioning her during one of our conversations."
I didn't say a word in response, simply looking down at the floor.
"Your lack of response suggests that we are correct, yes?" Nezu stated.
I looked up at him.
"I plead the fifth," I said simply, partially as a joke to calm myself down, but also to throw Nezu off a bit, which worked to an extent.
"This isn't America, kid," Eraserhead said, exhaustion in his voice.
I only shrugged at his reminder.
"There is still one last thing I would like to ask. One last thing I must know," Nezu began. He reached a paw into his suit, carefully pulling out a small glass syringe containing an ominous red liquid inside.
My eyes shot open, steady breathing halting for a few moments in pure shock and disbelief.
"Y-you..."
"So you know what this is then?" Nezu rhetorically asked, placing the syringe carefully onto the metal table.
"We refer to it as Unidentifiable blood. Mainly because of the fact that it doesn't match with a basic human blood or any animal blood. We even searched through the Japanese database for anyone with blood similar to this one, but we came up empty-handed," he explained, tapping his claws on the metal table.
I kept my mouth shut, breathing, and become shaky and heart rate, increasing just a bit.
"We are aware that this blood comes from the individuals that you and other members of the slayer organization kill." "Would you happen to know anything substantial about this blood?"
I clamped teeth tightly together, eyes traveling away from Nezu's gaze.
"I didn't think they were so close," I thought to myself.
"I can't tell you," I finally spoke, voice shaking with nervousness.
"Hm? And why not?" Nezu asked.
"I'm not in a high enough position to say," I snapped, eyes stone cold and emotionless, staring into Nezu's amused and unbothered eyes.
"I see. So you are not one of the top members like I had previously speculated," Nezu muttered, clapping his paws together.
"Does that mean there are members more powerful than you?" Tsukaiuchi asked.
"Far more powerful than me," I clarified, side-eyeing the detective.
"If you are not able to explain what this blood is, then can you at least explain why you kill these people?" Nezu asked with interest.
I met the rat's gaze once again, narrowing my eyes at him.
"We believe in a life for a life. If you take an innocent life, then you no longer deserve to live," I stated simply and seriously.
"Interesting. And what gives the slayer organization the right to decide that?" Nezu asked, less with sass or sarcasm but with genuine interest in the answer.
"Because we're the only ones willing to do it. We are the only ones that know of their existence," I responded.
Nezu took one last sip of his tea before placing the empty tea cup down on the table.
"So these villains. They are a part of an organization themselves, aren't they?" Nezu inquired, once again tapping his claws on the metal table.
"You could say that," I said. "All I'll say is that you should be careful with that blood there," I said, gesturing over to the syringe of demon blood. "If that enters a person's body, then something very bad will happen to them."
Nezu only hummed in response before carefully nodding his head.
The bear, mouse, doc creature hopped off of the metal table, landing gracefully on his feet, before walking over to Eraserhead.
"I believe that is it for now. We'll return soon with some more questions, but I believe now would be a good time for us to go over what you have told us," Nezu said, climbing up Eraser, only to sit down on the aloof man's shoulder.
Tsukaiuchi lowered his own and clipboard, holding it at his side as he made his way over to the exit door along with Eraserhead and Nezu.
"Do I just sit here, then?" I asked, meeting Nezu's gaze once more.
"We won't be long. We technically can't arrest you for vigilantism due to your quirkless status. However, there are still plenty of other crimes the HPSC would exploit," Nezu said.
"But, I'll look into clearing your name of at least most of the crimes you'd likely be charged for otherwise if you keep answering our questions."
My eyes widened slightly in surprise. That sounded... genuine. But... that doesn't matter. As soon as I escape, I'll go back to the DS Corps and ensure that I won't be captured again. I just need to rest up for at least a few days.
After that, I'll have enough energy to break out of these cuffs and knock out everyone who'll try to stop me.
The three made their way out of the room. However, I wanted to say one last thing. One last thing to Tsukaiuchi in particular.
"Tsukaiuchi-San," I called out, garnering the attention of all three of them.
"Thank you for shutting down Aldera Junior High."
<•——————•>
Author's Note: Imagine being Izuku right now. This situation kinda sucks. Don't worry, it'll get worse :)
It always gets worse.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There were some things stated in this chapter that may be easy to overlook, but it will most definitely be incredibly important for the overall story.
I won't say what that thing is, though. Why? Because where is the fun in that?
I'll try to post some more chapters over the course of Thanksgiving break, so be ready for those.
Cya!