Chapter 59: Down Below
The first day back to his old schedule is a weird one. Izuku wakes up, brushes his teeth, showers, and goes right to Idaten. Ingenium had been happy when he heard that Izuku got his hours extended and immediately asked if he'd like to work more. Izuku said yes without thinking, and now he's getting on a train at five AM. It's not inherently a bad thing—putting in more hours makes him feel great—but he's normally at the gym early in the morning. His body's used to exercising at this hour, not sitting stock-still with little room to move. He starts to fidget, tapping his thighs just to find something to do. It annoys the few other passengers, so he quickly stops.
Izuku distracts himself by looking at his phone. There's nothing new on Twitter—thank god—but there are a few new posts on forums about heroes which he reads. Izuku also rereads the text conversation he had with Nejire the previous night. It makes him blush, the warmth traveling all the way to his toes. It distracts him better than any Twitter feed could.
Izuku arrives at Idaten at six o'clock, ready to go out on patrol. But when he walks in the door, he finds Ingenium in full costume holding a sack of somethingon his back like Santa Claus. "Um, what's up?" Izuku greets.
"Yo!" Ingenium drops the bag, causing whatever's inside to shuffle around. "How's it going?"
"Pretty good. You're… chipper."
"Hm? Oh yeah! I didn't tell you. We're doing something different today."
"Different how?"
"Youth outreach," Ingenium says, giving the bag a light kick. "We're going to a middle school to talk to them about stuff."
"What kind of stuff?"
"Drugs and how to be a hero."
"Those go together?"
"Nope! But we're going to two schools, so there'll be two different presentations."
"I don't know the script," Izuku says. Then, because he knows how Ingenium operates: "Is there a script?"
"Just follow my lead and try to look cool. Let's get going!"
The first school is a rich one. There's an auditorium with hundreds of seats and a state-of-the-art stage. Just for Izuku and Ingenium. To talk about how drugs are bad. It's really awkward, but only for Izuku. Ingenium, however, works the stage like a veteran, making lots of big gestures and interacting with the audience frequently. Izuku just stands there, occasionally saying a word or two when prompted. At the end, they throw out toys from the sack, which practically makes a stampede of middle schoolers. Once everyone is calmed down, they thank the teachers for letting them come and quietly leave.
The second school is poor. It's not obvious, since the building is big and modern, but the decorations and quality of the learning materials show how bad it is. But the students love them. They scream and cheer every time Izuku says anything, even if it's just a simple yes or no. They listen to their speech on preparing for hero school exams and beg them to stay and keep talking. It breaks Izuku's heart to walk off stage, but Ingenium cheers him up quickly.
"We're hanging around to talk."
And suddenly Izuku's in the lunchroom, swarmed by middle schoolers all begging for his attention. He signs hundreds of autographs, takes dozens of pictures, and gives lots of hi-fives. He stays there until school lets out for lunch, and heads out to the back. Ingenium told him to wait there while he speaks to the principal, so Izuku leans up against the wall and looks up at the cloudy sky. A few minutes pass.
"Oh." Izuku looks over to see a tall, thin boy with purple hair and dark eyebags standing a few feet away. He's holding a tray of food and awkwardly making eye contact with Izuku and the ground. "Uh… can I—" He stops speaking, and nervously closes his mouth.
"You can eat here," Izuku says. "There's no tables though."
The boy shrugs and sits on the ground. He digs into his rice, occasionally sneaking glances to the side. Izuku pretends not to notice and slowly slides down the wall. "I didn't see you in the crowd."
"I was in the back."
"Oh. Cool. Did you get a toy?"
"No, but I saw people fighting over the bag, so."
"Same thing."
"Yep."
Izuku hums and fiddles with his belt for a moment. A cool breeze blows by, pushing steam from the boy's lunch over to Izuku's nose. His stomach grumbles.
"You want some of my udon?"
"No thanks, I've got food coming."
"Hm. Is… is it true? What you said?" the boy asks. Izuku looks over to see him staring into his noodles.
"Is what true?"
"That anyone can be a hero, no matter what."
"Sure," Izuku says. "You just have to work hard. Do you want to be a hero?"
"More than anything."
"I did, too. Have you been getting ready for exams?"
"... I jog every morning."
"That's not enough."
"No. It's not."
"There's this really great YouTube channel called Fitness Teens. They do sponsorships and stuff, but if you go back to when they were starting out, they've got a lot of good tips for people your age."
"I'll look into that, thanks."
"No problem. I know it's difficult to do at your age, but have you been training your Quirk? It's pretty important for most exams."
The boy stills. "I can't practice it."
"Why?"
"I… brainwash people."
"Ah."
"Yep."
"How?"
"Excuse me?"
"How does it work?"
The boy blinks, stunned. "If someone responds to me, I can give them simple instructions. They're in a trance while I do it, and don't remember anything."
"That's pretty powerful," Izuku says, "and handy. Any school would be lucky to have you, but I can guess how things are for you right now."
"Y-yeah, thanks." He rubs the back of his neck. "I… I'm not a fan of yours, but I know who you are. And as long as you're here, I may as well ask. How hard is it to get into UA, really?"
Izuku lets out a long breath. He thinks. "For you, right into the hero course?"
"Yeah."
"Impossible."
"What?"
"You're not as fit as you could be. The exam is all robots so your Quirk won't work. And I don't know if you could get in on… never mind that last bit. You won't pass the UA practical. You just won't. They'll put you into Gen Ed and give you a shot at the Sports Festival, but if you fail that, you're not getting in."
"Oh." The boy drops his chopsticks.
"I'm sorry," Izuku says sympathetically. "But UA… I don't think it's right for you. It favors people like me. Flashy, powerful, loud. You, though? You're made to be sneaky. Lurking in dark alleys, brainwashing drug dealers, and arresting muggers. UA has the Sports Festival. Everyone will see you there; everyone will know your Quirk. That's not good for an underground hero. Er, do you want to be an underground hero?"
"I don't care just as long as I am a hero. But… that's my dream school out the window, huh?"
"Don't worry about it. I know that's easy for me to say, but don't. Apply to Shiketsu. They're good, realgood. And they don't favor people like me. They'll take you in gladly. And they'll make you a really good hero."
"Alright," the boy says. "Thanks."
"No problem."
They sit there until Ingenium comes out holding a pair of takeout bags. He tosses one to Izuku, waves to the boy, and starts to walk off. Izuku follows, but something stops him.
"Hey, Deku." Izuku turns to see the boy standing. "Shinso Hitoshi."
"What?"
"That's my name. Look for it in the list of Shiketsu graduates three years from now!"
Izuku smiles and nods. "I will! I promise!"
Patrol after Izuku's talk with Shinso is pretty quiet. It's a blessing, really. It lets Izuku think about if he did the right thing, and if Shinso can follow through on his commitment to becoming a better hero prospect. While Izuku would like to think that U.A wouldn't be the right school for Shinso, he can't be completely certain. But then images come to mind of the boy, baggy-eyed with slumped shoulders as he sits in the auditorium, learning that he'll have to fight something his Quirk won't work on. Izuku can see Shinso try and fail to think of a way to use his Quirk, and then, in a last-ditch effort, hit the robots with whatever he can find. The dark scene ends with Shinso fighting back tears as he's forced into the Gen Ed course, growing bitter and mean. It's not a fun story.
But Shiketsu will be better for him. Izuku remembers that they have one-on-one assessments for applicants, so Shinso will have a better shot at showing off his Quirk, which any school would want to nurture because, as depressing and unfortunate as it is, Brainwashing would be the perfect Quirk for a villain. It'll be good for hero work, but the thing that everyone thinks of when they hear that someone can mind control others is what crimes they could commit. It's another thing that Izuku hopes he can fix when he's older.
"Hey, good work," Ingenium says for the hundredth time. "Really, those kids loved you. Sure, you were a touch stiff, but that just made you look even cooler. Middle school students are obsessed with the whole 'dark and broody' theme. Well, a lot of them are, anyway."
"Thanks," Izuku says, taking a quick look back at the school building. "How often do you speak in schools?"
"A few times a year," Ingenium says, "but I only go to a specific school every few years—just to keep it special. That way, the younger kids will have fond memories of my little bit, which means that when I come back, they'll be even more excited than they were before. I also change up my speech. You can't repeat things with them; they'll get bored."
"Interesting. My school never had a hero for a guest speaker. All we got was a… well, we had a cop that came around and told us about how severe being caught with drugs was, and there was a suicide prevention one my last year there," Izuku remembers, though not fondly. No one took either lecture seriously, and everyone got punished for it. Except Bakugo, though, because of course he didn't.
"Those are also good topics," Ingenium says, rounding a corner into a small plaza. "But I talked about suicide prevention the last time I was there, and schools here usually do a good job of having cops come in and explain the laws. It's, uh… I actually don't like that it's just Hosu that does that. Like, I'm sure that other parts of the country do, but none of my schools did. It feels like…"
"Like they're profiling poor people," Izuku says, disgusted at the very idea of it.
"Yeah. It's awful, especially because the people here are great. I mean, look!" Ingenium points to a man in the center of the plaza, casually strumming an acoustic guitar. In front of the guitarist is an elderly couple, casually swaying in each other's arms. A few people stop and smile, and one younger couple even joins in, to the delight of the people sitting on the nearby benches. "There's nothing bad here."
"I know," Izuku says. "My neighborhood is… it's not poor or unsafe, but it's not rich or peaceful. Uh, actually, I think it might have one of the highest villain attack rates in the country. But no one's hateful—there aren't a lot of regular, Quirkless crimes. Everyone's just… not as well off as other people are."
"There you go. That's the right way to put it." Ingenium smiles under his helmet and claps Izuku on the shoulder. "People are people, and people deserve the benefit of the doubt, no matter their social standing."
"Yeah," Izuku says, thinking of something to add, "but don't crime stats show that criminal and villain activity are higher in lower-income areas? I'm not trying to say these people are bad or anything. It's just—maybe some extra police isn't a bad idea?"
"There's two things I've got for that." Ingenium flips up the peace sign for a few teenagers, who nod in return. Then, he holds his fingers out to Izuku and puts one down. "First: the population density is greater here. Housing isn't the best, and everyone is cramped, so if you do crimes committed per square kilometer, this is a pretty bad place. But if you do it by crimes committed per person, it's not as bad. Second: criminals stick to poorer areas. It's, uh, easier to blend in with or take advantage of the less wealthy."
"Then there should still be more heroes here," Izuku says. "I know it might be a little unfair, but it's like you said. Criminals hang around here."
"It's a pretty messy situation," Ingenium says. "I agree that more protection is good. But I mean that in the sense of people like you and me. Heroes just walking around, being seen, being known, ready to help when needed. But some of the cops? They need to meet quota, so the precincts around this city's precinct often patrol on the edges of the district, looking for crime. Heroes do it too, looking to pad their stats. I know Fourth Kind likes to walk down here, intentionally causing a ruckus so he can get a few arrests."
"Okay, that's illegal," Izuku says. "Right? I mean, we can't investigate without police or government oversight, or without a PI license."
"He's not investigating anything," Ingenium says, shaking his head. "He's going to places where drug deals happen, or where street gangs are a problem, and baiting people into doing something—usually attacking him."
"That's wrong," Izuku says. "He's… he's a hero."
"Nah, he's got a plastic card in his wallet that lets him stop crime and do disaster relief." Ingenium reaches for one of his pockets and pulls out his hero license. "This doesn't mean anything other than you passed a test. Being a real hero doesn't depend on what the government says. It depends on your actions, your words, your goals, and your character. Real heroes do everything they can to help people that need it, card or no card."
"Oh," Izuku says, his own license suddenly feeling heavy in his pocket.
"It's still an accomplishment to get it, though." Ingenium slips his license back into his pocket. "It means you're skilled. Just try not to put too much importance on the card, alright? It's just a piece of plastic."
"Alright." Izuku reaches down to where he keeps his own card. It's hard to feel through his gloves, but he knows it's there.
"Nice. I'm glad you understand that. Now—" Ingenium's phone starts to buzz, and the man hurriedly ditches one of his gloves and his helmet to pull it out and answer. "Hello? Uh, the what? No, I didn't hear anything about that. Today? I'm in uniform right now. How important? That's… I've got a work study kid with me. Oh, yeah, totally. I'll just let Shota's star student wait in a prison. Shota's going to be there? And… oh. That important. Um… yeah, I'll be right down. See you."
"What's going on?" Izuku asks.
"I'm not completely sure," Ingenium says, affixing his helmet with a serious expression. "But I do know that it's at a prison and so serious that they don't want to explain it over the phone. Oh, that was Midnight by the way. She's apparently there. And Eraserhead. And Mic…" Ingenium shakes his head to clear his thoughts. "It's fine. You'll just wait in a room with someone. It's technically part of a case, I guess? Nemuri wasn't all that clear. Anyways, let's go."
"Now?" Izuku starts to jog after Ingenium, who's wasted no time heading for a less crowded street.
"Yeah! It's apparently urgent. As in, I needed to be there ten minutes ago and didn't get the memo for some reason!"
"Then wouldn't it be better if we flew?" Izuku calls. Ingenium stops his run and turns around.
"Yeah. Do you give piggyback rides?"
They're almost shot down outside of the prison. It sounds funny without context—Izuku knows that Mirio will get a kick out of it later—but it's not so funny when a warning shot in the form of a huge column of fire sails over Izuku's head, making Ingenium scream and him take a sharp dive. "We're heroes! Heroes!" Ingenium tries to call. But a laser, red and terrifyingly warm, locks onto Izuku's chest, and he decides that it's a good idea to land outsidethe maximum-security prison.
The glares they get from prison staff are legendary. The warden comes down to meet them, and Ingenium apologizes profusely while Izuku hides behind him in an attempt to avoid a lecture. It works, but only because Ingenium offers a good excuse and the warden admits that being in such a hurry means that making a mistake is forgivable. Not that he's happy about it. The man makes it clear that prisons are a no-fly zone for a reason, looking directly at Izuku. It's only after all of that, and signing a few forms, that they're allowed in. And boy is it a weird experience.
There are four floors in the detention area, but there's hardly any floor at all. Catwalks connect the individual cells, all linking up in one central area, which is different for each floor. Each catwalk is only wide enough for one person to walk across comfortably, but the rails are all two meters tall. The bottom level is the eating area, and there are no cells, only tables and little cat flaps on the bottom parts of the walls.
The cells have no windows looking into the actual prison. The doors are a blank white with bold black numbers painted on in no particular order. Some of the numbers are faded and chipping; others sheen with a coat of fresh paint. The only sounds in the entire building are the low hum of the heater and their sharp footsteps. It makes Izuku feel small and trapped.
"We're second after Tartarus, you know," the guard escorting Ingenium and Izuku brags. "That's why we gave y'all a warning shot. The Pit woulda shot you down and made you swiss cheese for all the sharks."
"Wonderful," Ingenium says. "Another reason why we shouldn't have flown. Why are we so stupid?"
"It was my idea," Izuku mumbles. "I shouldn't have said anything."
"Aw, you guys are fine," the guard insists. "You only barely breached the zone we protect, and you didn't even try to get over the walls or the fence. You gave our guards a right scare, though. We were about ready to go on lockdown."
"You mean you aren't on lockdown right now?" Ingenium asks. He's long since discarded his helmet at the visitor check-in, and his surprise shows as he looks around the building. "No one's out."
"Oh, no, this is standard," the guard says. "We only let five of 'em out at a time, and only the good behaved ones. Also, I'm s'posed to tell you that if you are taken prisoner by one of our lovely residents, the government won't negotiate for your release. If you're grabbed, it's advised that you don't fight back and wait for us guards to come get ya. But, uh… that's for civvies."
"I promise that we're able to handle most villains," Ingenium says.
"I know," the guard says, smiling. "But guess what? These"—he waves the barrel of his gun around at the doors to the cells—"ain't your average purse-snatchers. Shit, even in this minimum-security area, there's a few big names. You know Hacksaw?"
"Hacksaw is here?" Izuku says, looking around in shock.
"Yup," the guard says, almost proudly.
"She was only beaten by All Might. Endeavor got knocked out by her. She's here. In minimum-security?" Izuku still can't believe it.
"Oh, she's not so bad. Can't do much now that her Quirk won't work, but she's still sorta feisty."
"Those two statements contradict each other," Ingenium says.
"Nah, they don't. Anyway, this door leads outside." The guard stops and rests one of his hands on the massive frame of a heavy, steel door. "There'll be more guys leading you 'round. Just follow 'em and don't talk. They don't take kindly to unnecessary sounds."
"Perfect."
The door splits open without a single squeak or scrape. The friendly guard steps back, and a small squad of less friendly-looking guards appears just outside the door frame. They're all dressed in black tactical gear with full-face masks and impressive weaponry. All of them are nearing two meters in height, and Izuku can tell that they're way more fit than the average person. They stand stock-still for a moment before turning as one and marching off. Izuku and Ingenium follow, taking light steps because the guns the guards have look scary.
The outside of the building is all dull and drab. Concrete is the primary building material, and whoever designed the prison complex had a thing for brutalist architecture. Other squads of guards march around, occasionally stopping beside the entrances of buildings or at random junctions. No one walks in or out of the prisoner housing facilities. Every single one except the building they walked through is locked up tight, and Izuku has a hard time even figuring out what's a door and what's just a bit of a wall.
And everything is silent. Even the padding of the guards' boots is almost non-existent. It's very clear that any escaping prisoner would have to get out without making a single sound or use brute force to get through all the guards, which is impossible for most. A night escape would also be hard since there are massive flood lights on the top of every building and the sides of the pathways glow a bright white. It makes Izuku feel on edge, just being around so much firepower and stuff designed to keep people out and in. And the fact that villains are locked up less than a few meters away from him doesn't help, either.
It gets even worse when they reach their destination. The guards stop in front of a large, tough-looking metal box and form two lines, one on either side. They hold their rifles so they're pointed at the ground, but their fingers are only a few centimeters from the triggers. The message is clear: they know Izuku and Ingenium are heroes, but that doesn't matter in the long run. Shifting nervously, Izuku stares at the box. From under the earth comes a rumbling, deep and low and almost primal. It slowly grows louder, getting closer and closer. Then, all of a sudden, it stops. And the side of the box facing Izuku slides down.
"In."
Izuku jumps, looking around to see who spoke. It's impossible to tell, but the way the guards stare at them, he and Ingenium aren't comfortable with waiting around to find out. They step inside of the box, which can't be called an elevator because it's so cramped and tiny and industrial-looking. The entrance seals back up, and they're locked inside with a single naked lightbulb to keep the dark away.
"So," Ingenium says, drumming his fingers on the thigh platting of his armor. "Think we can talk now?"
Izuku shrugs. "They're probably recording us, but that doesn't matter. Ma—" And then they start to fall. Or maybe not quite, since their feet never leave the floor of the car. But it goes so fast that it feels like they're completely free of any breaks or safety features.
It takes a few seconds, but eventually they start to slow. Izuku tries not to think about how bad it would've been if whatever the prison is using to control the car failed mid-trip and sent them crashing into the ground. The door slides open and Izuku steps out after Ingenium, who looks a little green. They meet with another guard who says nothing, and walk in the only direction the hall will allow.
It's cold, but Izuku's still in full costume, so it's not awful. Like the surface, everything is quiet, but the aged paint and rusted support beams combined with the bright LED lights give it a more lived-in feel. They walk past a few doors before stopping in front of a random one on the right. The guard knocks twice and leaves. The door swings open, and a familiar face appears.
"Tensei," Aizawa says. "What took you?"
Ingenium steps in the door with Izuku on his tail. "I actually got here the fastest way possible," he says. "I just didn't know that this was a thing. Does anyone know why I wasn't informed?"
"We texted you to meet us here," Midnight says, waving to Izuku from her seat against the wall. There are no tables or chairs, so she and Present Mic, who's to her left, are forced to sit on the floor. "Yesterday and today."
"Ah. Yeah, my phone's always on silent and I never look at it on patrol," Ingenium says, leaning against one of the concrete walls. "Last night was pretty tiring, so I just went home and passed out. I didn't even check it this morning when I woke up."
"That's on us, then," Mic says, much less cheerful than normal. Both he and Midnight are dressed in civilian clothes while Aizawa's in his regular jumpsuit sans his capture weapon. "We should've told you about this earlier."
"It's alright, I only almost got shot down," Ingenium says, the small joke failing to cut the tension. "What even is this, anyway? Nem, you were really vague, but…"
"Not with the kid here," Midnight says, taking her glasses off and rubbing her eyes. Izuku catches a look at her eye bags as she does, which weren't there yesterday. Or maybe they were and she just covered them with makeup. "It's… dark. He'll wait somewhere and—actually, it's probably best if he goes home."
"I can wait here," Izuku says. "I don't have anything going on. I'm sure you all want to be out of here before it's late, too, so… yeah." He smiles awkwardly, still shaken up by the fact that Mic isn't smiling.
"Our conversation might take a while," Aizawa says. "A long while. The prisoner has been unresponsive and it's unclear if we'll make any progress."
"Do you have to dehumanize him?" Mic asks, shoulders slouched with his hands laced over his lap. He slowly massages his thumbs against each other as he looks down. "I know you're skeptical, but there's a chance. And even then, he's still a person."
"The prisoner is a child trafficker," Aizawa says, almost spitting into the floor. "As far as I'm concerned, they're not a person anymore. They lost the right to the title. There's also a million ways that the test could be wrong, and a million more they would explain why the results are what they are. I'll wait to cast my final judgment until we're done, but right now it's not looking too good."
"He'd hate to see you like this," Midnight says softly. Aizawa's expression sours further.
"That's impossible to know."
"Sho," Ingenium says, resting a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. "Breathe. It's fine. We'll… we'll figure this out later. I just want to know what's going on."
"O—"
"Not in front of Midoriya," Aizawa snaps, cutting Mic off. "He's been through enough already."
"He's a big kid, he can handle it," Midnight says, sternly glaring at Aizawa. "And he's through with therapy. It's not the best metric of how good his mental health is, but he's doing a hell of a lot better than us right now. You just don't want to deal with your feelings until you're forced to."
Mic raises both of his hands, worry crossing his face. "Hey, hey, easy. Now's not the time to get on each other's cases. Nemuri, I'm just as hopeful and frustrated as you. Sho, I… look, you can't be a stone wall forever. Remember what Houn—"
"No," Aizawa says gruffly. "That was private, and will only come into effect if the experiment works out."
"Experiment?" Midnight scoffs. "That's low, even for you. That could be—"
"Not. In front of. Midori—"
"Could we all just—"
"Guys, what the hell is going—"
"You don't even care about—"
"I do care, I'm just taking steps—"
"Take a deep breath, both of you—"
"No, seriously, what's happening? Guys, I'm getting s—"
"Would it kill you—"
"Would it kill you to think—"
"Fu—"
"Are you ready to go?" The arguing halts and everyone turns to look at the open door and the guard standing in the frame. He's shorter than the ones upstairs, but he's still at least a hundred and eighty centimeters, and he's much more stocky than the surface guards. His face mask hides everything, but Izuku gets the distinct impression that he's annoyed.
"Yeah," Aizawa says, casting one last look around the room. "We are. Will one of you take him up?" He points to Izuku.
"No, that's against protocol," the guard says, turning around. "He'll have to wait in the camera room with the others. No one is allowed to use the elevator when a prisoner is being interrogated."
"We can wait," Aizawa offers. The guard shakes his head, already beginning to walk down the hall.
"There's people behind you, so move it!"
As the guard takes off down the hall, Aizawa jogs to catch up and passes him. The skinnier man steps in front, stopping the guard in his tracks. "I'm not having a minor watch an interrogation."
"How old is he?"
"Sixteen."
"That's old enough, so you either move along and have the guy watch or you all go back up. Your choice." The guard shrugs like he doesn't have a care in the world, and Aizawa glares.
"Fine. But I'll be telling the warden about this."
"Go for it. Now move!"
A few meters down the hall, there is a door. That door is a meter thick and made entirely out of a shiny, sturdy metal. The door opens to another door, the second made of the same material but smaller. The second door opens to a third that's smaller than the second, the third opens to a fourth, and so on and so on until the last door, which is a circle the size of a porthole on a ship. Izuku watches as his teachers disappear into the room beyond the doors before being escorted to a different room further down. It only has one door, and it's pretty weak. But it's not an interrogation chamber. Instead, the viewing room door opens to yet another familiar face.
"Detective?"
"Midoriya?"
The two stare at each other for a moment before the door closes. They blink in unison. "Nice to see you?" Izuku tries.
"I… yes," Detective Tsukauchi says, standing up from the small table in the center of the room and walking over to Izuku. "I wish the circumstances were better, but it's nice to see you." He holds out a hand which Izuku takes.
"Yeah, uh. What are the circumstances?" Izuku asks, retracting his hand. "I know they're not great, but I'm not sure what you and Aizawa have to do with it."
"Have a look at the screen," the detective says, pointing to the wall over Izuku's shoulder. Izuku turns his head to the side and sees high-definition footage of purple and black smoke with yellow eyes.
"Is that…"
"Kurogiri, yes," the detective confirms. "Why don't we have a seat?"
There are actual chairs at the table, along with a small coffee machine and a remote for the TV in the room. Izuku sits next to the detective so they can both watch, but he has to push away a few papers to have a spot. "What are these?" he asks, holding up a tan file folder.
"Case files for Kurogiri and Shigaraki Tomura." The detective plucks the file from Izuku's hands and opens it. A picture of Kurogiri the size of a normal piece of paper is the first thing inside. The detective closes the file and sets it down. "There's a lot more, as you can see. I've been busy working on a string of murders and villain attacks, so I haven't had time to look everything over. I'm going next, so I have to catch up quickly if I want to do a proper interrogation."
"Oh," Izuku says. "I could help if you'd like?"
The detective mulls it over for a moment. "I suppose that would be okay. You were on the case, and you'd only sit there sneaking looks if I said no."
"I'd try not to," Izuku defends.
The detective chuckles. "I know. But you still would. It's not your fault; it's just how humans are. Look at this one first, though. I've already been through it."
Izuku takes the offered folder and sets it down in front of him. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Taking off his gloves, Izuku takes a look at the file. The front of it reads 009027-792936 ['Sensei'] in bold red. Izuku opens it up and looks at the first paper, which is a sketch of a Japanese male in his forties. There's nothing special about him other than his height, which is nearing two meters.
Turning the page over, Izuku reads through a scant profile of the man. He's the head of a human trafficking ring, or at least they think so. It's unclear if he's an actual doctor or teacher or anything else that would have Sensei for an honorific, but it's assumed that he has some medical knowledge based on what his captured workers said.
It's also unclear how deep everything runs. The equipment he's said to have and the stuff that was taken from the various hideouts is expensive and exclusive. Anyone would have needed access to a medical license to get it, or, failing that, they'd need to know where to steal it from.
The other thing that points to some kind of conspiracy is the list of suspects. There's a lot, but only a few match the height description. One of them—the man at the top of the suspect list, actually—is dead. Two bullets, small caliber, to the back of the head. The cause of death is listed as suicide.
It starts a bone-chilling line of thought. Was this Sensei man actually killed by his backers? Or was the human trafficking ring able to figure out who the suspects were and killed one to send a message? Who are the backers? Do they even exist, or is Sensei a man in power? Why did they even need so many children in the first place? Where did the ones they failed to save go? How big is the whole ordeal? There are just too many questions for Izuku to feel safe. As far as he can tell, those people are still out there, working to do something. Yes, their warper is locked up, but that's only a temporary fix. Or is it? Maybe Sensei or whoever's in charge let Kurogiri get captured. It's hard to say.
Frustrated from his fractured thinking, Izuku closes the file on 'Sensei' and picks another folder up from the pile. This one is on Kurogiri. Like before, the first item is a picture, taken by the prison. Behind that are a few pictures of Kurogiri with his eyes shut, one of him next to a meter stick, and pictures from when he was being transported after his capture. Comparing the pictures to the man on the TV screen, there's really no difference. Interestingly, though, Kurogiri has a real, solid body. The metal thing he wore before was housing for it, and the prison replaced it with something that'll shock him if he tries anything.
Turning the page, Izuku is met with a confusing list of names. He recognizes none, but the fact that Quirks, ages, and body proportions are listed beside them piques his interest. He turns a few more pages and finds a document outlining an investigation into who exactly Kurogiri is. The Quirk database failed to turn anything up, and birth record searches were fruitless. The name Kurogiri is accepted to be an alias, but there is simply no one in existence with a Quirk like his, which led investigators to conduct a DNA test so they could figure out who Kurogiri's parents might be. Izuku turns to the results of those tests and freezes.
Kurogiri has the DNA of ten people, but none are on the list. However, the ten people are all married heterosexual couples who had children. Said children all disappeared in their mid to late teens. Izuku grabs an earlier file and sets it next to the DNA test results. The top five share last names with the males on the list. But the first name, circled in red with the title of another document under it, is Shirakumo Oboro.
Izuku furrows his brow. The name is familiar, but he can't remember where it's from. He leans back in his chair, trying to jog his memory. He looks over to Detective Tsukauchi, who's leaning over his papers with his fingers massaging his temples.
"De—"
"Oh, dear," the detective says, flicking one paper aside to look at another. "This… oh, shit."
"Detective?" Izuku tries again. Tsukauchi jumps in his seat.
"Sorry," he says, looking back down at the files. "Just… read this one next, please. It's important."
"Then you should read this one," Izuku says, compiling all the papers that were in the file. "It's important, but I can't quite understand it."
"Alright." The detective reorganizes his folder. "It's… we're being recorded."
"Okay?" Izuku says, gingerly taking the file. "What—"
"How about we take a quick break, actually," the detective says, reaching for the remote. "Maybe the interrogation will help us understand the files better."
"Okay," Izuku says, looking at the TV as Tsukauchi unmutes it.
"—know who you are. Truly, this is the first I have seen any of you." Kurogiri's rich baritone voice crackles through the speakers of the TV. "I don't know who you're talking about. I am Kurogiri, Tomura's protector."
"Oboro," Present Mic says, sitting on a chair in front of Kurogiri, who's bound in a straight jacket and chained to a chair. "That's your name. We used to have karaoke nights in your basement. I always won."
"I don't—"
"You always wore those EZ-breathe patches," Midnight continues. "One day, I got curious and pulled it off while you were asleep. You woke up—almost suffocated to death. I started carrying boxes of them around after that, just in case."
"We used to race every day in class," Ingenium recalls. "Even if it was just a few feet, we'd try to beat each other, and then the loser would buy the winner something. We had to call it quits after a while because you ran out of money. I still owe you a few sandwiches, though."
All the attention falls on Aizawa next, who stands far away from Kurogiri, clutching his goggles in his hands. He's looking downward, and his long, black hair hangs around his face like a shroud.
"Shirakumo Oboro," Aizawa says. "That's who they think you are. You have the right height, DNA, and your Quirk matches his. But my friend would never hurt children—or anyone, really. So you're not him. He's in you, though, Kurogiri. Oboro is inside of you, probably fighting to break free. So either you'll let me talk to my friend, or I'll make you let me." Aizawa looks up at Kurogiri. Izuku can't tell what his expression looks like, but from the tone of voice, Aizawa is nearly heartbroken. "Talk to me, Oboro. Please."
Kurogiri freezes. His smoke starts wafting around, and his eyes fail to blink. He starts to shake, vibrating the chair and the room around him. The guard in the room yells something and reaches for a switch on the wall. Ingenium stops him. The smoke clears, and the foggy shadow of a person peeks out of Kurogiri's restraints. From the way everyone in the room reacts, it's Oboro. But he's not well.
"...stard… alive… he's… The. Bastard. Is. Alive."
"Buddy?" Mic says softly. He slowly starts to approach the chair, but Oboro thrashes wildly, putting himself in danger of knocking himself out. Everyone backs off.
"The bastard is alive. The bastard is alive. The bastard is alive the bastard is alive the bastard is alivethebastardisalivethebastardisalive, he'salivehe'salivehe's—"
Someone pulls the switch. No one's sure who. Kurogiri is hit with a powerful shock of electricity and knocked out. In the interrogation room, Izuku's teachers fall to their knees. Izuku himself momentarily forgets how to breathe. Tsukauchi mutes the TV and falls out of his chair.
"Detective!" Izuku cries, helping him up. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Do I need to ca—"
"M'fine," the detective says, pushing Izuku to the side. "Well, I'm not, but things are more important right now." He stands shakily. Izuku looks him over, trying to see if he hit his head.
"What's so important?"
"This." Tsukauchi points to a file. "And this." He points to another. "And, and, and all of them. Why didn't I see the signs sooner?"
"Sir?"
"Human trafficking, human experimentation, it's, he's…"
"Sir."
"Fuck, the conflicting results of the DNA tests, your account from the fight in the bunker..."
"Sir!"
"The name 'Sensei', the access to impossible medical equipment, the fact that he's untraceable by conventional means."
"Sir!" Izuku shouts, grabbing Tsukauchi by the shoulders. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't you see, Midoriya?" Tsukauchi's face is pale white, and his eyes are hollow and dead. And Izuku begins to follow the line of thought. The vomit-inducing, bone-chilling, mind-numbingly terrifying thought process that Tsukauchi has been having for the last ten or so minutes.
"All for One is alive," Izuku says, his words barely coming out as more than air.
"And there's no doubt he's coming for you."
Miles away, unaware and unconcerned with his imprisoned fakes, Izuku's greatest fear smiles, all teeth and no lips, as he coaches a young girl on how to properly slit a throat. As she drags her knife against the stolen corpse, All for One ruffles her hair and laughs. Soon. Everything will be in play soon.