Fractured Wings

The stage in Hosu City's central plaza was a stark contrast to the devastated streets surrounding it. The remnants of last night's chaos was still there after the heroes done all they could to mitigate it as the game came to an end. 

But for now, all eyes were on the man standing at the podium, his iconic figure lit by the glare of countless cameras. All Might, stood in his classic modern hero costume, appeared as solemn as ever. His golden hair seemed to droop slightly, but his shoulders remained broad, carrying the weight of a nation's grief. 

News broadcasters murmured into their microphones, their commentary hushed but urgent. Civilians packed the plaza, many clutching photos of loved ones, their faces stained with tears. On either side of All Might stood Endeavour and Hawks, their presence commanding yet secondary to the man of the hour. 

All Might gripped the edges of the podium, his gaze sweeping across the crowd. He inhaled deeply, steadying himself before speaking. When his voice rang out, it was steady, resonant, and deeply somber. 

"My fellow citizens, heroes and all who have suffered in this time of great loss..." 

He paused, his throat tightening briefly. The weight of the tragedy hung over him like a shroud, but he pressed on. 

"This incident was a horrific tragedy—an act of unspeakable cruelty that claimed lives, shattered families, and left scars we will carry for years to come. No words I speak today can fully capture the depth of this loss or undo the pain we all feel. But I stand before you now as a symbol of accountability. As a hero, I am not above failure, and we—all of us—failed to prevent this disaster." 

All Might stepped back slightly, bowing his head deeply at the waist. The silence that followed was deafening. His voice heavy with sorrow, cracked slightly as he continued. 

"To the families of those we lost, I offer my deepest and most heartfelt apology. Your loved ones were more than names, they were heroes, students, civilians, and even villains who simply didn't have the chance to walk on the path of atonement. They deserved better from us. And so today, we will honour them" 

The stage they were on was in the central plaza, where the Founder's Torch had laid. And in the center of that plaza was something new, covered in a deep red coloured cloak. Endeavour shot out a flame, and a controlled burst of fire burned the cloak away to show a large piece of stone that was as black as charcoal, on it were names coloured in white. Surrounding the stone mantle was a clear reflective glass that caught the sun's rays. 

It was a memorial stone with the names of all those that had died within the games, hero, villain, civilian and hero students. The names were great in number, the stone was big enough to carry them all. Everywhere surrounding it. 

Some of the crowd crouched down in grief, as if finally seeing the name of a loved one was enough to fully drive home that they will never see them again. 

The crowd's grief became a palpable force, with quiet sobs and murmured prayers filling the air. All Might's voice grew steadier, the pain in his tone gradually transforming into resolve. 

"These were not just victims. They were individuals with dreams, hopes, and lives that mattered. We will never forget them." 

Straightening, All Might's demeanour shifted. The weight of sorrow gave way to fiery conviction. His chest puffed out, his eyes blazing with determination. 

"But while we mourn, we must also act. We cannot allow such a tragedy to repeat itself. Daigo Kiyoshi, the one behind this nightmare, will be brought to justice. We will hunt him down, no matter where he hides, no matter how long it takes. And every criminal who escaped from their cells to wreak havoc in this city—every last one of them—will face the consequences of their actions." 

Endeavour's fiery presence intensified beside him, and Hawks nodded grimly, his usual lighthearted demeanour replaced with steely resolve. All Might's voice rose, reverberating through the plaza like a battle cry. 

"To the villains who think they can exploit our pain and fear, hear this; You cannot escape justice. You cannot break the spirit of the people, this nation, or it's heroes. We will stand united, stronger than ever, and we will not falter. This is not the end. It is a new beginning." 

The crowd stirred, some shouting in agreement, others clapping hesitantly. All Might's words began to light a spark within them, anger and hope intermingling. 

"To the citizens of Japan," he continued, his voice softening yet remaining resolute, "you have endured so much. Your strength, your courage, your resilience, these are the reasons we heroes fight. Together, we will rebuild. Together, we will heal." 

He straightened fully now, raising a fist high into the air. His expression, though weary, burned with unshakeable resolve. 

"And to the next generation of heroes," he said, his tone turning proud and uplifting, "you have faced trials that would break many, yet you endured. You showed us all what it means to carry the torch forward. The future is yours, and I have no doubt that it will shine brighter than ever before." 

The crowd erupted into cheers as All Might's voice thundered one final time, carrying with it the weight of his legacy. 

"Plus Ultra!" 

The plaza roared, the chant of "Plus Ultra!" echoing through the streets. The cameras zoomed in on All Might's raised fist, capturing the moment as a symbol of hope and determination. The scars of the tragedy would never fully heal, though the people of Hosu, and the world knew that the fight for justice would never waver. 

____

The sterile hum of the recovery wards machinery was constant, broken only by the occasional shuffle of feet from nearby rooms. Midoriya Izuku lay on the crisp white sheets of his hospital bed, his chest rising and falling in laboured breaths. Pain radiated from his ribs, a sharp reminder of the long and draining time he had just come back from. 

His left arms were swathed in bandages and secured in a sling, pulsed with a dull ache. Burns etched across his forearms told the nurses the story of the relentless blows he's endured while fighting. 

But it wasn't the physical pain that weighed on him most. 

His emerald eyes stared at the ceiling, unfocused, replaying the battle in his mind. The way the fake All Might's punches rattled his bones and how it's cold, lifeless eyes mirrored his greatest fear. His weakness. 

He had fought tooth and nail, pouring every ounce of One For All that he could into his attacks, yet he was barely able to lay a scratch on the All Might replica. He was pulverised. his arm was limp and his bone suffered fractures, his face was busted up too and covered in bandages that he was itching to take off, his left shoulder was in a brace which he was dreading how hard showering would be. The only thing close to being fine was his legs which still hurt some but the tremors were the most minor. 

'I am supposed to be the next All Might.' 

He felt like tearing up. The battle continued to replay in his mind, he dragged his friends into the battle at the end, he could have gotten them killed, he didn't want that. Midoriya was starting to doubt himself again. 

'I'm weak, worthless, trash, meat, broken, impotent, hopeless, junk, purposeless... a useless DEKU... what is wrong with me?' 

Midoriya shifted slightly, biting back a hiss of pain as his ribs protested. The memories were like a weight on his chest, especially the final bout. The screams. The blood. The faces of those who didn't make it. He thought of Crust and immediately felt a pang of shame and worthlessness. 

Crust gave his life to protect them as he was passed out. 

Yui Kodai... her lifeless body was literally slipped into his pocket in the form of an envelope. As soon as one of the heroes unravelled it, she seemed to fold out of it. Her future was stolen from her, by a game she never chose to play. 

Midoriya knew who it came from. 

Kobe.

Kobe's face flashed into his mind. Sharp eyes, an expression that always seemed... haunted. He had fought with them, he risked his life too, only to vanish the moment the chaos settled, along with Lady Nagant. Why? Why didn't he follow the heroes? 

'Where is he now?' 

The room seemed to close in on him, the silence amplifying the grief that clung to his chest. He kept thinking, he couldn't stop, of all the lives he had seen fade away. All the dreams that would never be fulfilled— 

"Midoriya." 

The familiar voice cut through his thoughts, grounding him. He turned his head slightly, wincing as his body protested. Aizawa-sensei stood at the foot of his bed, arms crossed, his usual disheveled appearance even more so. Beside him stood Recovery Girl, a soft expression of relief lied on her face. 

"You're awake," Aizawa said simply, his tone neutral but laced with a subtle undercurrent of concern. 

Midoriya blinked, trying to sit up straighter, but Recovery Girl gently pressed a hand to his shoulder. "Easy, my boy. You've been through enough." 

He nodded, his throat dry. "H-how... is everyone?" he croaked. 

Aizawa's gaze softened, just slightly. "Alive. Thanks to you and the others. Your classmates as well as some other people that dropped into Hosu last night are all safe, some with a few wounds and some with more."

A wave of relief washed over him. But it was fleeting, because not everyone had come back. 

"You did well Midoriya," Recovery Girl said, her tone warm. "We're just thankful you're here to tell the tale." She trailed off shaking her head as if to banish a bad thought. "Well, let's just say we're lucky you're as stubborn as you are." 

Midoriya smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes. Aizawa stepped closer, his piercing gaze meeting Midoriya's. "You're mother's on her way. She wanted to come as soon as we told her you were awake. She's been worried sick." 

His chest tightened at the mention of his mom. He only figured out that everyone had access to watching the whole event, even though it wasn't legal. He thought about how she must have felt watching the nightmare. 

"She'll be here soon. And we can talk about the even later on after that." Aizawa continued. "But before she gets here... I just want to say I'm proud of you, problem child." 

Midoriya's eyes widened, tears stinging at the edges. Aizawa wasn't one for emotional speeches, and hearing those words felt like a salve to the wounds he couldn't see. 

"You went through hell and came out on the other side," Aizawa said. "And even if it doesn't feel like it now, you made a difference. You saved lives." 

Midoriya swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. "Not enough. People still died. I wasn't able to save—" 

Recovery Girl reached out, Midoriya thought she was about to smack him on the head, she just patted his hand. "No hero can dear. But the ones you can save. You focus on that because that is what counts." 

He nodded his head, the weight on his chest easing slightly. 

Aizawa sighed. "Rest now. You'll need your strength for what's ahead." he paused. "And I heard you've picked out your hero name." 

Aizawa then gave a smile, it looked a little weird but not alarmingly so. 

"Well done :Champion." 

____

The Hero Public Safety Commission's headquarters loomed over the city like a fortress of authority, it's sleek-and-glass facade catching the faint morning light. The building radiated a sense of quietness, a reflection of the turmoil the nation was grappling with. 

The air was thick with tension that lingered in the aftermath of catastrophic events. Grief had seeped into the walls, the corridors, and the very souls of those who worked there, manifesting in quiet conversations and heavy silences. 

At the heart of the building, deep within it's most secure wing, a conference room buzzed with a low hum of subdued conversation. The room was a stark contrast to the usual sterility of Commission spaces. A long oval table of polished black marble dominated the space, it's surface embedded with faintly glowing lines that pulsed softly, displaying files, live feeds, and classified information. The walls, paneled with dark wood and reinforced steel, were adorned with sleek monitors that displayed maps of Japan, crime statistics, and real-time surveillance feeds of the city they are in. 

Rika Amamiya sat at the head of the table, her posture rigid, her gaze sharp. Her tailored gray suit hugged her frame impeccably, the commission's insignia gleaming on her lapel. Her ashen blonde hair was tied in a bun, streaks of gray betraying her years of service. Her blue eyes, usually cold and calculating, held a shadow of weariness, a rare glimpse which came from the toll of the "game" that took place. 

She allowed her gaze to sweep over the room, taking in the faces of those present. 

Hawks leaned casually in his chair to her right, the golden glow of his eyes flickering like a predator's in the dim light. His usual cocky demeanour was tempered, his sharp mind clearly focused on the matters at hand. Despite his relaxed posture, Rika trusted him above all others. It was his intelligence work that had uncovered a shocking number of traitors within the commission, a revelation that still made her stomach churn. 

The other side of the table was occupied by Sir Nighteye. He sat stiffly, his suit immaculate but his face shown exhaustion. The dark circles under his eyes stood out starkly against his pale skin, and his hands trembled ever so slightly as he adjusted his glasses. Rika could tell that he hadn't been sleeping. 

But still, his presence was commanding. 

Edgeshot sat to Nighteye's left, silent and composed, his ninja-like demeanour unwavering. His sleek black hero costume contrasted sharply with the formality of the room. Airjet, a lesser known hero whose face was perpetually hidden by his full-body flight suit, sat next to Edgeshot, his rigid posture reflecting his unease. 

Rika had filled the rest of the room with a few trusted members of the commission, their tailored suits and impassive expressions making them blend into the background. She knew them well enough to trust their discretion, but her mind still circled back to Hawks' revelation: half of the Commission had been compromised by Daigo Kiyoshi's insidious network. It was a betrayal that weighed heavily on her. One that she would have to ignore for now, until the man was captured. 

The room fell silent as Nighteye cleared his throat, rising to his feet with deliberate slowness. His presence, though not physically imposing, carried an air of gravitas that commanded attention. He adjusted the silver tie, the faint gleam of digital displays reflecting off his glasses. 

"Thank you all for coming," he began, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of fatigue. "I know this is an extraordinary time for us all. The Hosu Game has left us all scarred—as individuals, as heroes, and as a society. The losses we've endured..." He paused, his gaze sweeping the room. "They weigh on us all. Their sacrifices are a reminder of the stakes we face." 

A heavy silence followed his words. Airjet's gloved hand clenched into fists on the table. Edgeshot bowed his head slightly, his expression unreadable. Hawks broke the quiet with a low sigh, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table's edge. 

"But while we grieve," Nighteye continued, "we must not lose sight of the future. And it is that future that brings us here today." 

Rika watched him carefully, noting the slight tremor in his hands as he gestured to the holographic display above the table. A profile appeared, the face was unmistakeable to everyone in the room. Kobe Arakawa, also known as Soryu. Beneath the image, the details of his quirk and recorded actions scrolled like a grim ledger of destruction. 

"Kobe Arakawa," Nighteye said, his tone sharpening. "Many of you have seen what he's capable of. You've watched footage—his battles against Overhaul and Abyss, his ruthless efficiency, his mastery of his quirk." 

Airjet leaned forward, his voice crackling slightly through through the modulation of his suit. "And yet he's still a kid. A rogue kid, sure, but not some mastermind pulling the strings. Why focus on him when there is a much bigger fish to fry." 

Nighteye's response was immediate, his voice cutting through the question. "Because he is a lynchpin. A force of destruction unlike any we've faced. His quirk alone makes him dangerous, but it's his mind that set's him apart. Every move he makes is calculated, precise. He's not just a rogue kid. He's a tactician, a fighter, and a killer. He's survived encounters that would've ended most heroes and villains alike. And..." Nighteye's gaze darkened, his voice lowering. "He has no aversion to killing. That makes him both unpredictable and lethal." 

Hawks leaned forward, his golden eyes narrowing. "But he's also the guy that took out Abyss, and the fake All Might at the end. He tried incredibly hard to as well. I'd say there's more to him." 

"Precisely." Nighteye replied, his tone unwavering. "And that complexity is why he's even more dangerous. He's not bound by ideology or allegiance. He operates on his own terms, and that makes him impossible to predict." 

Edgeshot's voice, calm and measured spoke before the oncoming tension. "You've always maintained the future is unchangeable. What's changed?" 

Nighteye hesitated, the faintest flicker of doubt crossing his features. "Because... I've seen cracks. The events of the Hosu Game, the unexpected resilience of certain individuals... They've shown me that perhaps the future isn't as fixed as I once believed. And if there's even a chance to alter the course I've seen, I have to try." 

Rika, who had remained silent until now, leaned forward, her gaze piercing. "What exactly have you seen, Nighteye?" 

He met her eyes, his voice heavy. "For some reason, as of recent I haven't been able to properly speak the future out loud or even write it down." Rika instantly came to the conclusion of a quirk awakening. "But, from the brief instances and what I can say, I know, Kobe Arakawa is close to the center of destruction. Villains will rise—Tomura Shigaraki, Miyu Ogawa, and some other groups I couldn't name— The chaos will engulf everyone and it will be a day of Death." 

Death Day! 

Hearing that from someone who could see the future made some of the room jitter. 

"Timeframe?" 

"Between the end of Halloween and Christmas I'm sure of it." 

The room erupted into quiet murmurs, tension crackling like a static electricity. Airjet shifted uncomfortably in his seat, while Hawks tapped his pen against the table, his mind clearly racing. Rika's face remained impassive, though internally she was already calculating the implications. 

Could Kobe Arakawa be a product of the Eden Project? The thought was chilling, but she kept it to herself. That Pandora's box would remain closed for now. 

"So what do you propose?" Rika asked finally, her voice cutting through the noise. 

Nighteye's response was swift. "We capture him. Alive. His knowledge, his abilities—they're too valuable to waste. If we can understand him, perhaps we can prevent the future I've seen." 

Edgeshot nodded slowly. "A sound plan. But do we have the resources?" 

Rika's gaze swept the room. "Then it's decided. Kobe Arakawa, codename Soryu, is to be classified as an S-rank threat. He is now a top priority for apprehension. I'll allocate resources to this effort, but the rest will depend on you all. Hawks, coordinate with Nighteye on intelligence gathering. Edgeshot, prepare your team for field operations. Airjet, assist with logistics. And to everyone else... this discussion doesn't leave this room. Kobe Arakawa is more that just a rogue. He's a threat, and we cannot afford to misstep. Let's move forward carefully—and decisively." 

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the task ahead settling on their shoulders. Outside, the city continued it's restless hum, oblivious to the storm brewing within the walls of the commission. 

____

The harsh light of the room pushed the shadows to the edges of the room inside the sparse, industrial chamber. The faint hum of ventilation ducts was the only sound, aside from the occasional soft clink of a chess piece being moved across the polished ebony and ivory board. Tomura Shigaraki slouched in his chair, one hand resting lazily on the table while his other hand hovered hesitantly over the board. His blood red eyes scanned the pieces in visible frustration, his thoughts jumbled as he tried to make sense of the strategy. 

Opposite him sat his master, All For One, as composed as ever. His imposing figure was draped in a sharply tailored black suit, the light catching faint scars on his skin where his mask no longer concealed him. Though his face remained obscured, his demeanour radiated a calm dominance. His gloved hand moved another piece into position, the game advancing under his control. 

"You see Tomura," All For One began, his voice smooth and paternal. "chess is not just a simple game of pieces. It's a lesson in foresight, control, and patience. Sacrifice must be calculated, victory inevitable." 

Tomura scowled and tapped aa knight impatiently against the board. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. But this is boring. You know I don't think this way." He pushed the knight forward carelessly, only for All For One to immediately capture it with his queen Tomura's eyes twitched. 

"Again," All For One said with a chuckle, "you overexerted yourself without considering the long-term consequences." He paused, "You made the right move not to engage in that fake All Might during Proxy's Game." 

"I wanted to. But it really wasn't worth it." Tomura rubbed his neck, a rare look of contemplation on his face. "I did gain some solid new allies out of that mess." His lips curled into a smirk, his crimson eyes gleaming. "Cipher's already pulling his weight. He's smart—way smarter than most of the idiots I've had to deal with. He knows how to handle money too." 

"An astute observation," All For One said, leaning back slightly. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of the table. "Ritsu Tanigawa—Cipher—is indeed a valuable acquisition. He will be instrumental in securing resources and expanding our reach. A man of intellect is as much a weapon as one of brute force." 

Tomura's smirk widened. "And he doesn't give much of a shit about the heroes too." 

"Indeed," All For One replied, his tone was rich with approval. "And while you were navigating Proxy's game, I've been cultivating alliances for you too along with Dabi. Muscular for instance, has been eager to join our ranks and what we have planned. He brings with him... enthusiasm, if nothing else. And I will finalize negotiations with that Miyu Ogawa—her capabilities will serve us well." 

"What's her deal?" Tomura was intrigued. 

"A potent blend of strength and cunning." All For One said with a hint of admiration. "She doesn't fully share our disdain for this brittle society. But her actions and temporary goals do align with our goals." 

"And Dabi?" Tomura asked. "I wouldn't have minded him being in the game. What's he been up to?" 

All For One chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers through the air. "Dabi, the enigma. He has been busy. His methods are unconventional, but the seeds he's planted will bear fruit soon enough. You'll see. As of right now, he's busy with the good doctor." 

Tomura nodded slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, as if a switch had flipped, a grin stretched across his face. He leaned back, letting out a laugh that was equal parts childlike and menacing. "We're really building something huh? Everything's coming together." 

"Precisely," All For One affirmed, his voice rich with satisfaction. "The day is approaching, Tomura. A day when we will no longer remain in the shadows. When the fractured foundation of hero society will crumble beneath it's own weight. You, my dear student, must continue to gather allies, to prepare yourself for the day long storm we shall release." 

Tomura reached up and pulled the hand mask from his face, his scarred lips curling into a sincere smile. He set the mask gently on the table and looked directly at his master. "I'll do it. I'll make you proud." 

All For One leaned forward slightly, his unseen gaze heavy with approval. "You already have. But there is still much to do. The board is set, and the pieces are moving. Soon, the game will begin in earnest." 

Tomura's eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and determination. He placed his hands flat on the table, leaning into the moment. "I'll show them," he said, his voice low and firm. "I'll show them all their precious hero society crumble." 

____

(Four Days Later) 

The Liberation Army headquarters in Deika City pulsed with an air of quiet determination. From the grand windows of the upper levels, the city stretched into the horizon, it's streets bustling with ordinary citizens unaware of the rebellion brewing in their midst. Deep within the building's labyrinthine corridors, Re-Destro and Trumpet sat in one of the conference rooms, it's walls adorned with banners proclaiming the liberation of quirks as humanity's ultimate destiny. The atmosphere was less formal than usual, the two leaders seated with cups of tea on a polished table. 

"Shiraishi," Re-Destro said, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of authority. "What are your impressions so far?" 

Kazuki Shiraishi sat stiffly at the end of the table, shoulders hunched and hands gripping his knees. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes darted nervously between the two Liberation Army leaders. He felt out of place, like an intruder among giants. 

"I... uh..." Kazuki hesitated, his voice was weak. He glanced at Trumpet, hoping for some kind of cue, but found none. "I'm just glad to be here. I mean, if you hadn't found me when you did..." 

Trumpet smirked, leaning back in his chair. "If we hadn't found you, the heroes would've thrown you in prison. Or worse." His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it, a reminder of Kazuki's precarious position. 

Re-Destro raised an eyebrow, watching Kazuki with a faint smile, "And do you know why they would have done that?" 

The question had an obvious answer for Kazuki, and the tone it was asked in seemed like it was just asked to make sure he knows he was an idiot. An idiot who always places himself in the worst outcome. 

'Shit... Fuck!' He raged in his mind.

"I was with Abyss." Kazuki mumbled. "And he... we killed people." He corrected himself. 

"Precisely," Re-Destro said, his voice sharp yet devoid of malice. "The heroes don't care what led to your choices. To them, you are still just a criminal, a villain." 

Kazuki swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the table. "I didn't want to kill anyone." 

"Kazuki." Trumpet interjected. "From the beginning of the game you were given the title Civilian. So you had no reason to get involved with the games until you took your first life where you would have been titled Villain." He said smoothly. "By the end of the games, you were at 29 points. So even if you didn't kill many like other villains, you are still a murderer." 

Kazuki started shaking. The jitters came from a mixture of both anger and fear. He didn't want to be in this situation, he shouldn't have been in this situation. His future... he didn't know what was going to happen to him. 

"I... I just got caught up in it. Abyss, he made me do it. He said it was the only way to survive the game." 

Partly a lie and partly a truth. Both leaders could tell. Both knew that Kazuki just left his safe space for no greater reason other than he was bored, this then led him to running into Abyss pinning down an unfortunate Civilian. 

As soon as Abyss spotted Kazuki, he gave him a choice. Killing the young boy in front of him for the safety of his own life, or surrendering his own to save the boy. 

'Of course I chose my life.' Kazuki reacted to himself, he could see the glint's in their eyes, judging him. 'I'm selfish, just like everybody else in this world.... Also there was no way for me to confirm that kid was going to stay alive.' 

"And here you are," Trumpet said, gesturing grandly to the room around them. "You survived. You made it out. And now you have a chance to turn that survival into something meaningful." 

Kazuki nodded mutely, though his thoughts drifted back to the Games. To the girl he'd helped kill—the one that was so close to the boy who had killed Abyss. Kazuki could remember the fight and how it ended even though he was at a far distance and flew away as soon as he seen what he was sure was a nuke made of paper. 

The memory sent a shiver down his spine. The intensity made him feel small and insignificant. 

Re-Destro seemed to read his thoughts. "Worried about Soryu, are we?" Kazuki had told Trumpet about his issues as soon as Trumper had made Kazuki pick him up along with the lady that was on top of him, both passed out. 

Kazuki flinched at Destro's questioning. I... uh... I think, he's going to kill me." 

Trumpet chuckled, cutting him off. "It's natural. He's a force to be reckoned with. But don't worry, Shiraishi. If it comes to it, we have... contingencies." 

Kazuki frowned. "Contingencies?" 

"Someone with a quirk that can alter his memories." Trumpet explained, his tone almost too casual. "If Kobe ever gets too focused on you, we'll make sure he forgets about you. Simple. Plus you will be stationed far enough away from him." 

The idea should have reassured Kazuki, but it didn't. The thought of someone altering memories, of tampering with something so fundamental, made his stomach churn. 

Re-Destro stood, smoothing the front of his immaculate suit. "Come," he said. "It's time to check on our newest recruits." 

The trio walked down the wide corridors of the medical wing, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. The air grew cooler as they approached the secured recovery rooms, where Kobe Arakawa and Lady Nagant were being treated. 

Re-Destro stopped at Kobe's door first, his sharp gaze sweeping over the boy's sleeping form. Kobe lay on the bed, his golden-oak skin catching the pale light. His body was a tapestry of injuries: his left arm was covered with bandages. His chest was covered with angry, jagged scars from the fake version of All Might's relentless blows. His right leg bore deep puncture wounds, and his ribs were visibly bruised beneath the thin hospital gown. 

"And yet," Re-Destro muttered, almost to himself. "he survived." 

Trumpet crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. "That fake All Might nearly tore him apart. But the fact that he's alive, let alone in one piece, speaks volumes." 

Re-Destro nodded, his gaze intense. "Kobe Arakawa is no ordinary boy. His strength, his resolve... he can turn into a living embodiment of our ideals. But his unpredictability will need to be managed." 

Kazuki lingered near the doorway, his eyes fixed on Kobe. He felt a pang of guilt, sharp and unrelenting. 

Re-Destro's voice broke through his thoughts. "Lady Nagant." 

They moved to the adjacent room, where the infamous sniper lay. Her body, though still, exuded an aura of power and precision. Her dark purple hair was pulled away from her face, which was pale and the drawn. Both her arms were heavily bandaged. 

The scars on her body were brutal, crisscrossing her arms and legs. 

Re-Destro inclined his head. "An invaluable asset that we cannot lose. Together she and Kobe will be incredible pieces." 

"Then should we get the specialist to mess with their memories now?" Trumped asked, his arms crossed. 

"No." Destro answered instantly. "It's better to gain an true and genuine ally, or at least try to. Changing their wills to match with our own also is a point against everything we stand for." 

Kazuki glanced nervously at Nagant and then back at Kobe's room. 

"Also," Trumpet called for his leaders attention. All For One has been reaching out. He's interested in some form of cooperation. Of what I don't know." 

"All For One?" Destro asked with some surprise in his tone. "I have only heard the mans voice over a monitor, and that was once, it was while I was sneaking around trying to listen in to my father's conversations." 

Destro had been trying to keep tabs on the worlds most dangerous villain but lost them all at one point in time. So he stopped and decided to move on. But this could also be an opportunity, even with how dangerous the man is. 

"Let's hear him out on his proposition then." 

As they turned to leave, a soft groan broke the silence. Re-Destro and Trumpet paused, their gazes snapping back to Kobe's bed. 

The boy stirred, his fingers twitching against the white sheets. Slowly, his amber eyes fluttered open, their molten depths gleaming faintly in the dim light. For a moment, they seemed unfocused, as if caught between worlds. Then they sharpened, locking onto the figures in the doorway. 

Re-Destro smiled faintly. "Have a nice rest I hope, Soryu?" 

____

The first sensation that registered was pain—a vast, unrelenting sea of it, flooding every corner of my being. It wasn't the sharp, fleeting kind that snapped you into focus. No, this was a deep, dragging ache, like my body had been wrenched apart and poorly stitched back together. Every breath was a gamble, the air catching in my chest like broken glass, and the effort of opening my eyes felt monumental. 

The room greeted me with a pale, sterile glow, it's silence oppressive, broken only by the steady beeping of machinery. Two men stood at the foot of my bed, their figures stark against the glow of light. One was tall and broad, exuding an aura of calculated authority. His suit, each crease and button seemingly designed to command respect. The other was leaner, his stance relaxed, a smile curling at his lips like he was privy to some private joke. 

The taller one stepped closer, his pristine imposing yet strangely calm. "Good, you're awake," he said, his voice deep and measured, carrying the weight of someone accustomed to being obeyed. 

I blinked sluggishly, the haze in my mind refusing to clear. My voice, when it came, was hoarse and unfamiliar. "Who.. who are you? Why am I here?" 

The leaner man's smile widened, his tone light but laced with something insidious. "You don't remember me? We've met before, back in the games. I was there when you and that girl placed the founders torch at the plaza." 

His words were like a sucker punch. Yui. Her name alone was enough to send a tidal wave of anguish crashing through me, dragging me under. I could still see her face, her unwavering determination, the light in her eyes that refused to falter even in the darkest moments. And then, her end. Brutal, senseless and unforgiving. 

My gaze drifted, seeking something to anchor myself, and landed on a third figure standing behind the two men. He was partially obscured, his presence understated, almost ghostly. He lingered for a moment, his eyes meeting mine briefly before he turned and slipped out of the room. I didn't care. Whoever he was, it didn't matter. 

The pain was relentless, both the physical and emotional. My left arm was wrapped in layers of bandages, the feint memory of trying to slip past hits delivered by the number one. My leg throbbed incessantly, a cruel reminder of the puncture wounds that had nearly rendered me immobile. Even turning my head sent sparks of agony through my neck. Fighting my way out of here, if it came down to it, seemed like a joke. 

The taller man took another step forward, his voice breaking through the fog. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Destro. Perhaps you've heard of me?" 

Destro. Right. "The Meta Liberation army," I murmured out of my throat in a dry and scratchy tone. 

His smile was thin and precise, like a blade drawn from it's sheath. "Ah, you're informed. Good. But what you may not know is that my name carries legacy—a vision passed down through generations. The Founder's Torch, which you found, was not a symbol of just hope. It was crafted by my ancestors, as a testament to our unwavering belief in liberation." 

He launched into a sprawling monologue about the history of Destro, his words weaving a tapestry of revolution and sacrifice. He spoke with the fervour of a preacher, his voice rising and falling with practised cadence. Every sentence was a declaration, every pause pregnant with meaning. 

I tuned most of it out, "Where's Nagant?" I asked, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

A flicker of irritation crossed his face, but he quickly masked it. "She's in the room next door. Rest assured, she's recovering well." 

The relief was sharp and immediate, cutting through the haze like a blade. But it wasn't enough to quell the rising tide of unease. "What do you want from me?" 

The leaner man stepped forward, his grin widening. 'Right, he must be the one who called himself Trumpet.' 

"Straight to the point. I like that. Let's talk about recent events, shall we? Daigo Kiyoshi, now known as the villain Proxy is a household name. An S-rank villain, top priority for capture. And you Soryu? You've been making waves yourself. Congratulations, you're officially on the same list." 

I blinked, the words not fully registering the words. "What?" 

"You're an S rank villain now," he repeated, his tone almost gleeful. "Top priority. The heroes are calling you a dangerous anomaly." 

Destro's expression was unreadable, his gaze heavy. "In your current state, survival against heroes would be... improbable." 

His words hung in the air like a noose, tightening with every second. 

Trumpet chimed in, his voice lighter but no less calculated. "Which is why we're offering you a deal. Join a team to hunt down Daigo Kiyoshi. Until he's captured, by us or the heroes, you stay with us. After that, you're free to go." 

It was a lie. I could see it in their eyes, in the too perfect way they framed their offer. But I didn't call them out. They wouldn't be polite if they didn't have a way to enforce their terms. Whether it was coercion, manipulation, or outright violence, they had something up their sleeve. 

The door creaked open, drawing our attention. Nagant stood in the doorway, her figure frail but unbroken. She leaned heavily against the frame her sharp eyes scanning the room before landing on me. 

"I heard everything." she said, "I'll join." 

Her gaze met mine, and in that brief moment, an unspoken understanding passed between us. Neither of us trusted these people, but for now, we didn't have a choice. 

I sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on me like a boulder. "Fine," I said, my voice heavy with resignation. "But once Daigo is dealt with, I'm out." 

Destro's smile widened, the glint in his eyes unmistakeable. "Of course. Welcome to the Meta Liberation Army, Soryu."