High above the moonless sky, a lone silhouette drifted like a shadow given wings.
A lean humanoid figure, owl-faced, with piercing amber eyes and a short, hooked beak framed by expressive feathered brows. Sleek, dark-brown plumage wrapped his body, naturally muting every sound he made. Behind him, broad wings unfurled with the silent grace of a great horned owl.
He was Pro Hero Strix, the unseen partner of Hawks, an underground operative known only by rumor, active only when the world slept. His Quirk, Owl-Man, was a full-mutation type: the eyes, the feathers, the night vision, the predatory instincts, all the gifts of an owl, enhanced to human scale.
Tonight, under Hawks's direct orders, he followed the signal of a single, vibrant red feather, a meticulous tracker, acting like a magnet pulling him toward its target.
He had been flying for nearly an hour when the landscape below shifted, swallowing the countryside and giving way to the brilliant, careless glow of Yokohama City. As he crossed the city limits, the feather clutched in his clawed grasp tugged sharply downward.
"Hmm… target's in Yokohama," he murmured, his voice soft, dry, and rasping like rustling leaves. "Hawks said to only confirm the location. No engagement."
Strix adjusted his wings, the massive span flexing silently, and began his careful descent, gliding soundlessly toward the city's darker, forgotten districts. His hero costume, matte, feathered, and shadow-colored, rendered him almost invisible against the deep velvet of the night sky.
The red feather guided him with unwavering precision, pulling him across empty, neon-slicked streets and dim, graffiti-stained alleys until they reached the notorious Kamino Ward.
Minutes later, he hovered above an abandoned building.
Strix stayed aloft in a state of motionless suspension, his wings beating so incredibly slowly they barely disturbed the stagnant air below. Beneath him, the red feather's powerful pull finally weakened, trembling as if acknowledging the trail's absolute end.
The structure below was not merely dark, it was consumed by a stagnant, heavy darkness of neglect and rot. Weathered walls sagged under years of abandonment. Faded, crooked signs clung desperately to the façade. one old "BAR" sign flickered weakly, its dying light stuttering in the faint wind like a nervous heartbeat. Rooftop railings stretched thin and skeletal, casting jagged, desperate shadows. Windows stared upward like hollow, eyeless sockets.
No movement.
No voices.
No hum of life.
Just an unnerving, heavy stillness.
Strix rotated his head slightly, an owl's instinctive, predatory turn, allowing his sharp amber eyes to sweep the perimeter. He listened, his hearing calibrated to the faintest shift of air pressure.
Only the wind answered, brushing over his sleek feathers.
'So… this is the place. My Guts is telling me something dark, evil and unsettling is brewing inside.'
The thought was detached, and immediately dismissed.
'That is not my concern now.'
He folded his wings tight against his back, drifting downward in a slow, ghost-silent glide onto the rooftop of a neighboring, lower building. The deep shadows instantly swallowed him; his outline merged seamlessly with the night until he was little more than a shifting blur, a barely perceptible part of the darkness itself.
He retrieved the red feather from where it was tucked securely between his breast feathers, tapping it once with a clawed fingertip.
"Location confirmed," he breathed, his voice an almost inaudible sigh. "Reporting to Hawks."
He kept his gaze fixed on the derelict structure below, amber eyes narrow, scanning every shadow with the patient, unblinking detachment of a nocturnal hunter.
The feather had led him here. That was his job done. Whatever lurked inside, if anything at all, wasn't for the silent, unseen partner to disturb.
He will just observe, and report the news to Hawks.
...
Inside the Abandoned Bar — One Hour Earlier
The derelict bar was dim, Dust coated the counters; the air smelled of stale alcohol and old wood.
Then the silence warped.
A swirl of purple-black mist blossomed in the center of the room, twisting violently before stabilizing into a doorway.
THUD
Tomura Shigaraki leapt through it with an impatient grunt, landing near the bar's cracked floorboards.
Kurogiri's swirling humanoid silhouette condensed behind the bar counter area and smoothly closed the portal.
As if sensing their arrival, the large monitor mounted on the wall flickered to life. The screen showed no image, only darkness, but a deep, resonant voice rolled out of the speakers.
"Kurogiri… report what you discovered.
And Tomura… why did you leave so abruptly?"
Kurogiri bowed immediately, placing his hand to his chest.
Unseen by anyone, the red feather that had been clinging silently to the back of his neck, losing the telekinesis manipulation of Hawks, finally slipped off and fell to the dirty floor silently.
"Master, excuse my uselessness," Kurogiri intoned, his voice smooth despite the gravity of his report. "I searched the entire city, spying on every Pro Hero and police report, but couldn't find any useful leads. The only confirmed facts I gathered about the recent Quirk phenomenon are the following."
"First, whatever the phenomenon was, it didn't merely erase quirks. If it did, then those with mutated bodies would not have vanished. Meaning… it targeted the entire supernatural phenomenon itself."
"Second: they were not erased. That term is inaccurate. They were more likely banished, perhaps to another dimension, since they reappeared."
"Third: upon returning, none of the victims remembered anything. No trauma, no time loss, nothing. As if time simply… stopped for them."
"These are the most relevant deductions I could gather."
A low, pleased hum rumbled from the speakers.
"Interesting. Well done, Kurogiri. That is useful information. Doctor… what's your interpretation?"
All For One asked the expert, seeking confirmation and perhaps new ideas.
Behind The screen, in his lab, The Doctor leaned forward, glasses glinting in the dim, sickly glow of the monitor.
"Fascinating… truly fascinating."
His voice trembled with a manic excitement.
"This phenomenon fits perfectly within the framework of my Quirk Singularity Theory. An event of this scale, instantaneous, indiscriminate, reality-warping, can only mean two things."
He paused, savoring the moment.
"Someone awakened."
He tapped a finger against the table, each tap echoing like a countdown.
"There is a pro hero… a UA instructor. Eraser Head. His quirk nullifies power by sight alone. A marvelous ability, one I still cannot comprehend why we have not acquired."
He chuckled darkly.
"With it, the Nomu I am crafting for you would become a nightmare even All Might could not stand against."
The Doctor tilted his head, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Perhaps he, Eraser Head, has awakened, unintentionally releasing a wave that Nullified the entire concept of Quirks!…"
"Although The conditions of his quirk do not match the nature of the phenomenon. He is still highly suspected."
"So if We remove this option, it leaves only one conclusion…"
A wicked grin spread across his face.
"A child, freshly awakened, A powerful new quirk bursting into existence, one potent enough to disrupt the very laws of power itself. This theory aligns with everything we know."
He leaned back, eyes narrowing.
"What say you, All For One?"
The room dipped into stillness.
Then All For One's laughter unfurled, slow, deep, echoing like a distant earthquake.
"As expected of you, Doctor… you always manage to peer into the cracks I overlook."
His tone shifted, velvet and dangerous.
"Perhaps that underground hero has awakened. I'm definitely greedy for his quirk. but my injury has kept me from pursuing him, and his quirk is… irritating, even for me. And UA is not yet within our reach."
He exhaled thoughtfully.
"Moreover, I favor your second theory."
His voice grew darker.
"If it were Eraser Head, the event would have manifested during the night, his usual hunting hours. And his power requires sight. Yet this anomaly struck even those hidden behind walls, inside cars, in schools…"
He chuckled again.
"Doctor, Perhaps We are witnessing the birth of something new. A child whose awakening released a field that interferes with quirks themselves."
A pause.
A smile behind the mask.
"Monitor every newly registered quirk. Every child who manifests late, Every anomaly."
His laughter grew cold and delighted.
"Who knows… perhaps fate will deliver this treasure straight to our doorstep."
Shigaraki had been quiet, too quiet, scratching frantically at the peeling skin of his neck, twitching with raw irritation.
But the moment All For One's low, satisfied laughter filled the decrepit bar, the raw tension snapped.
"Sensei… All Might hasn't weakened at all!"
His voice cracked, raw and trembling with barely contained frustration, echoing sharply off the damp walls.
The laughter faded abruptly from the speaker. A long, measured breath followed, patient, ancient, and chilling.
"Tomura…" All For One's voice dipped into a calm, chilling register.
"I am the one who injured him. What I did cannot be undone, not even by Recovery Girl. Unless he has somehow acquired regeneration…" A soft, dismissive exhale. "...Which he has not."
But Shigaraki's voice spiked again, higher, laced with panic and failure. "But that punch! How can we defeat someone like that?!"
A chair screeched sharply across the floor as the Doctor snapped upright : "Gaki!" he barked, his eyes gleaming with insulted, obsessive pride. "Are you doubting my work? The Nomu I am building would give Prime All Might trouble. And you think an injured All Might is beyond its reach?!" His words echoed like a shrill, dangerous threat.
All For One interrupted, a stabilizing force of cold, absolute authority.
"Tomura." The voice soothed like a hand on the shoulder, yet carried the indisputable weight of a guillotine.
"Your fear is not weakness, it is awareness. You finally understand your enemy's height. Good."
A calculated pause. Then his tone sharpened, "But do not let it devour you. You will grow. You will gather subordinates worthy of your ambition. Not trash… Elites. Pieces in the game you intend to play." He chuckled faintly, dangerously. "The heroes stand in the light. Their cards are visible. But we… we thrive in the dark. Our cards remain hidden. That is your advantage."
Shigaraki's eyes glowed red beneath his hand, an unhinged grin tore across his face.
"Sensei… there's something else." He stepped closer to the screen, giddy with renewed malice.
"When I left the base earlier, Kurogiri showed me a villain. A sludge-like creature with a mutation Quirk. He can possess bodies."
A low, excited, hungry laugh escaped him.
"And I thought… if we Capture All Might, just long enough, then let that sludge take him…" His grin widened to something truly feral. "Imagine it. The Symbol of Peace…turned into a villain! The very Person who bring peace to the society, will bring them Terror!"
All For One's delight was evident even without a face to show it.
"Oh, Tomura… that is wonderfully twisted. Well done." His praise was warm, purposeful, a reward, a subtle leash, and a chain binding Shigaraki's ego.
The Doctor, however, leaned forward, greed burning visibly in his eyes.
"Then where is this sludge now? Why didn't you bring him? If I replicate his Quirk and implant it in the Nomu, combined with shock absorption, its defense will be extraordinary!"
At that question, Shigaraki's triumphant smile evaporated instantly. His raw, exposed hand slammed into the wall beside the screen hard, dust and decaying plaster erupting in a violent cloud.
"It was that damned boy's fault!" His voice cracked into a desperate, humiliated snarl. "I'll kill him—no, killing him is too kind. Sensei, steal his Quirk first, then I'll...Destroy him!"
All For One's response was unnervingly calm, the control a sharp contrast to Tomura's frenzy. "Tomura… which boy? What is his Quirk?"
Shigaraki turned, his eyes burning with humiliation and impotent rage, the memory replaying like torture.
"Everything was perfect. The Sludge Villain found a vessel, a teenager with explosion quirks. I wanted that Quirk too, Sensei, it's beautiful."
His breath quivered, reliving the moment of failure.
"But then… two brats interfered. One useless green-haired, The other, with black hair, he…"
Shigaraki's hand trembled where it gripped the edge of the bar.
"He touched the sludge...And then… this dark matter spread from his hand. Covered the sludge. And the moment it finished, the villain Shattered. Like glass." He spat the next words, venomous.
"His Quirk destroys anything wrapped in that darkness. I want it."
Silence stretched again, heavy with calculation. Then All For One spoke, thoughtful… and ultimately pleased.
"…A fascinating power. Similar to yours, yet distinct." A slow breath.
"Very well, Tomura. We will bide our time… and take him when the moment is right."
Shigaraki's grin returned, twisted, hungry, and ecstatic. His master had promised. And that promise was all the permission, and validation, he needed.