Kaede was mad. First it was actually confirmed that one of their leaders, Kobe-Soryu, was a traitor. He was working with the heroes. She got a lot from the little touch she had got, his defenses were lower than an average person, he seemed stunned. But that wasn't what mattered...
He was playing them. Not just them but also the League, which wasn't wholly bad, but the damage to them was not enough for the MLA to take advantage of and come out on top, so essentially he was no good.
And now, Koku Hanabata was dead. Kaede got there too late.
Koku Hanabata's body lay sprawled face-down, his blood a dark halo around his skull, the exit wound looked like a bloom of bone and brain matter. The bullet had entered clean, through the base of his skull, severing the brainstem before he'd even registered the shot.
That bitch Nagant. Her bullet had killed him instantly. Kaede stood over him, her fists trembling at her sides. The four bodyguards, ones that were handpicked by specialists with predictive meta abilities within their organization. They shifted like dogs in the rain under her glare.
"Explain." she hissed.
The twins spoke first, their voices overlapping in jagged harmony. "The ground, it shook. Like an earthquake. We lost balance for half a second-"
"Half a second?" Kaede's laugh was a razor dragged over glass. "That's all it took? Four meta-enhanced soldiers, and a tremor made you useless?"
The hulking brutes with their crimson halos said nothing. Their fists clenched, knuckles popping. One opened his mouth,
"Don't," Kaede's finger jabbed toward Koku's corpse. "You were chosen because your meta-abilities counter long-range threats. You two are sensors and the others lift up barriers. And yet..." she kicked Koku's shoulder, rolling him onto his back. His dead eyes stared past them, glassy with shock. "...here he is. One shot. One failure."
A burner phone buzzed in her pocket. The screen flashed... unknown. She wrenched it to her ear.
"Its handled." Destro's voice crackled eerily calm. "Plant him in the collapsed bank on the 5th. Let the heroes think he died in the crossfire."
Kaede's teeth ground. "But the plan..."
"The plan adapts," A pause. "You copied his memories. That's all weneed."
Her jaw flexed. The bodyguards watched, waiting for her fury to reignite. Instead, she exhaled through her nose. "Fine."
A swirl of black mist erupted beside them, Kurogiri's portal, yawning like a void. Kaede didn't look back as she stepped through, but her final words lingered in the air of the damp forest they were in.
"Daiki of the League will kill that rat."
___
Nagant crouched in the canopy, her rifle arm still warm and steamy, her breath steady. The wind carried Kaede's threat to her ears.
She knew of that Daiki character. He was strong, he was fast too, too fast for her to keep up with as she is. That didn't mean she didn't want to trek out and put a bullet between his eyes.
But she knows how strong Kobe is also, she knows that she would only get in the way when he fights against a person like that. She should stick to the plan: Disappear and find a hero. Or stay out of trouble.
She lowered her rifle and vanished into the night.
***
The streets of Tokyo had become a warzone of flickering neon and smoke, the air thick with the scent of fire and burning sugar from the ruined stalls. Kaminari Denki and Kirishima Eijirou moved through the chaos like shadows against the firelight, their boots crunching over shattered glass and discarded festival ornaments.
The civilians had been evacuated, most of them, at least, they were herded into the reinforced stadium on the edge of the district. But then the earth had shaken, not with the slow groan of tectonic plates, but with a deliberate, monstrous footfalls of something far worse.
They didn't know what but it left quiet rumbles as they carried on forward.
Now, they were separated from the others, cut off by collapsed buildings and streets split open like rotten fruit. Around them, the city ground, its bones broken.
Kirishima's jaw was set, his usual grin replaced by a grimace that didn't suit him. His hardened skin caught the orange glow distant fires, making him look like a statue carved from molten stone. But his eyes, his eyes were distant, locked on some invisible horizon.
Kaminari nudged him with an elbow, the static in his veins humming with restless energy. "Hey. You're thinking too much again. You're fat foreheads gonna cave in."
Kirishima blinked, shaking himself like a dog shedding water. "Huh? Oh. Sorry man, just distracted."
"Distracted? In this?" Kaminari gestured wildly at the apocalyptic scenery. A building nearly groaned ominously, its facade crumbling like a sandcastle under tide. "What, did you forget to charge your phone or something?"
Kirishima huffed a laugh, but it was thin, brittle. "Nah. Just... been thinking about Bakugou."
The name landed between them like live wire.
Kaminari's smirk faltered. "Oh,"
"He wasn't even allowed to come tonight." Kirishima muttered, kicking a chunk of debris. It skidded across the pavement with a hollow clack. "After what happened in training, they benched him. Said he wasn't stable enough."
Kaminari chewed his lip. He'd seen it, the way Bakugou had exploded, the way Kirishima had flown back like a ragdoll. The way Bakugou's face had gone blank with horror before he'd run.
"Probably for the best," Kaminari said casually. "Dude's a walking grenade right now, literally. One wrong spark and," he mimed an explosion with his hands. "Boom. Civilian pancake."
Kirishima's shoulders tensed. "It wasn't his fault."
"Didn't say it was." Kaminari shrugged. "But you can't blame the heroes for being careful. You know how it is, one screw up, one accident, and suddenly the whole worlds calling for your head."
Kirishima's fists clenched, his knuckles popping like firecrackers. "He's beating himself up enough as it is. He doesn't need anymore. I understand already."
Kaminari studied him, the way his friend's usually unshakable posture had gone rigid, the way his teeth ground together like boulders in a landslide. Kirishima was hurting. Not for himself. Never for himself. For Bakugou.
Something warm and fierce curled in Kaminari's chest.
"Hey," he slung an arm around Kirishima's shoulders, ignoring the way the jagged edges of his hardening dug into his skin. "You're a good friend, you know that? Like, stupidly good. Like, 'I wouldn't waste this much energy on anyone' good."
Kirishima blinked. "Huh?"
"I'm just saying," Kaminari continued, grinning. "Bakugou's lucky to have you. And yeah, he's a mess right now. But he's Bakugou. You really think a little thing like crippling trauma is gonna keep him down forever."
Kirishima stared at him. Then slowly, a smile cracked through the tension like sunlight through storm clouds. "When you put it like that..."
"I know," Kaminari said, flipping his hair with a dramatic flourish. "I'm a genius. Now come on, let's-"
A voice cut through the air, raggedy and poisonous.
"Awh. How touching."
The blood in Kaminari's veins turned to ice.
Behind him, leaning against the twisted skeleton of a streetlamp, stood Tomura Shigaraki.
But wrong.
His usual tattered hoodie was gone, replaced by a clean black jumper and on top of that was a deep crimson robe that pooled around him like spilled blood. The fabric was embroidered with gold, twisted, skeletal hands clutching at nothing, their fingers frayed like old scars. And his face...
The dismembered hand that usually clung to his features was gone. In its place was raw, puckered skin, the remnants of old burns stretching his grin into something grotesque. His eyes gleamed in the firelight, red as fresh wounds.
Kirishima reacted first, shoving Kaminari behind him with a snarl. "Shigaraki!"
Shigaraki tilted his head, his grin widening. "Red Riot. Chargebolt. What a delightful coincidence."
Kaminari's fingers sparked, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Kirishima didn't hesitate. "Just like training!" he barked, and moved.
His hardened fist closed around Kaminari's wrist, and then the world spun. Kaminari's stomach lurched as Kirishima hurled him through air, his body a living projectile aimed straight for Shigaraki's exposed back.
Electricity surged through Kaminari's veins, his vision whiting out as he unleashed a bolt straight at the base of Shigaraki's skull.
CRACK!
The lightning struck true. Shigaraki's body jerked, then melted.
Not into ash. Not into dust.
Into mud.
Kaminari hit the ground rolling, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the sludge that had been Shigaraki splattered across the pavement like wet clay.
"What the...?"
Kirishima was at his side in an instant, his hardened skin glistening with sweat. "A clone," he breathed. "That wasn't him. That was..."
"Twice," Kaminari finished, his blood running cold. "Oh shit."
The implications hit them like a freight train. If Twice was here, if he was making clones of Shigaraki and other members of the League,
"There could be dozens," Kirishima whispered, horror dawning in his eyes. "Hundreds. Scattered across the city. The heroes, we should find a way to let everyone know now."
They didn't have their phones, and even if they did, they most likely wouldn't have service.
Kaminari was already moving, yanking Kirishima to his feet. "C'mon!"
They ran, their footsteps echoing through the ruined streets.
***
Consciousness returned to Jirou Kyoka in slow, disorienting waves. Pain pulsed behind her temples, a dull, throbbing ache that made her skull feel like it had been cracked open and hastily stitched back together. Her ears rang, not with sound, but with the absence of it, a hollow, cottony silence that pressed against her eardrums like a physical weight.
She groaned, forcing her eyes open. The world swam into focus in fractured pieces, blurred shapes, flickering light, the acrid sting of smoke in her nostrils. Her cheek was pressed against cold concrete, rough and uneven beneath her skin. She tried to move, and a sharp bolt of pain lanced through her skull, making her gasp.
What happened?
Fragments of memory surfaced like shards of glass.
Endeavour's lantern, massive and golden, rising into the night sky like a second sun. The collective gasp of the crowd as fire wreathed the hero's hands, as the beacon ignited, casting its glow over the city. For a moment, everything had been perfect.
Then...
A streak of blue, vicious and fast, tearing through the lantern like a spear. The explosion had been deafening, a thunderclap that shook the ground beneath her feet. The crowd's awe had turned into shocked gasps, a tidal wave of panic surging through the streets.
And Tokoyami,
Jirou's breath hitched.
He had been standing beside her one second, his usual stoic self, his crimson eyes reflecting the lantern's glow. The next, he had doubled over, his fingers clawing at his chest like something inside him was trying to tear its way out. His screams had been wrong, not of pain, but of something deeper, something primal.
She had reached out for him, her heart hammering. "Tokoyami...?"
Then she had heard it.
The grinding.
His teeth, clenched so tightly they scraped together, the sound like nails dragging on chalkboard. It had sent a wave of nausea rolling through her, the vibrations crawling under her skin like insects. Dark Shadow had erupted from him then, not in its usual controlled form, but as a writhing, seething mass of darkness, its eyes burning with feral rage.
She had barely managed to call his name before it had struck, a backhanded swipe that had sent her flying, the world spun to darkness from then.
Now, as she pushed herself up on trembling arms, the memories settled like ash in her mind.
The first thing she saw was the destruction.
The festival grounds were ruins, stalls reduced to splinters, lanterns crushed underfoot, the air thick with smoke and the distant, panicked cries of civilians. The ground trembled beneath her, not from the aftershocks of the explosion, but from something bigger. Something closer.
Her gaze lifted, and her blood shook like thawing ice.
Dark Shadow loomed over the wreckage like a living storm, its form swelling to the size of an apartment building, its inky tendrils lashing out in erratic, violent strikes. Its eyes, usually a soft, glowing yellow were now pits of molten red lava. Its beak twisted into a snarl as it roared, the sound a guttural, echoing thing that made the air vibrate.
And there, at its center, was Tokoyami.
He was barely visible amidst the swirling darkness, his body curled in on itself, his hands pressed to his temples like he was trying to hold himself together. His cloak was torn, his usually composed features contorted in agony. Dark Shadow howled like the beast of the night it was.
Jirou's stomach twisted.
She had never seen him like this. Never seen Dark Shadow so unhinged.
Movement flickered at the edges of her vision.
Heroes.
Hawks streaked through the air, his feathers a blur as he dodged Dark Shadow's swipes, his usual smirk replaced by a grimace of concentration. Mirko was a white bolt against the chaos, her legs a whirlwind of devastating kicks as she tried to close the distance. Kamui Woods' branches shot forward, tangling around Dark Shadow's limbs in an attempt to restrain it, only to be torn apart like paper.
And then there were Nomu.
Their hulking forms lurched through the wreckage, their mismatched limbs and exposed brains making her skin crawl. They moved with single-minded purpose, some attacking the heroes, others.
Oh God.
Some were heading straight for Tokoyami, he was swatting many of them away, or Dark Shadow was in its maddened state. But she still worried at the fact that he could be hurt.
Jirou's hands shook.
She should move. She should help. But how? What could she do against that? Her quirk was sound, vibrations... useful, but not against that raging shadow beast or bio-engineered monsters. And Tokoyami, her friend, her teammate... he was lost in the middle of it, drowning in his own power.
I can't.
The thought slithered into her mind, cold and suffocating.
I'm not strong enough.
She had doubted herself before, not even more than an hour ago even, and it was him that had pulled her out of it. But now, she was faced with a new doubt. She struggled to breath, it was as if this doubt took form and coiled itself around her lungs, stealing her breath.
A scream tore through the air, human and pained.
One of the Nomu had gotten too close to Tokoyami. Dark Shadow had crushed it, its talons sinking into the creature's flesh with a wet crunch. The sound made Jirou's stomach lurch.
But then she saw it.
Tokoyami's face.
Just for a second, through the writhing darkness, she caught a glimpse of his expression, not rage, not madness, but terror.
He was scared.
Of his own quirk.
Of himself.
Something inside Jirou snapped.
No.
She wasn't going to sit here and watch her friend drown. Not when he needed her. Not when she could do something.
She forced herself to her feet, her legs wobbling but holding. Her jacks twitched at her ears, the vibrations of the battlefield humming through them like a discordant song.
She didn't have a plan.
But she had her quirk.
Jirou took a deep breath, steeling herself.
Then she ran straight into the storm.
And before the storm she bumped into a... "Todoroki?"