I lugged my backpack onto my back as I turned around. The cavern shouldn't be found, so I raised my hand focusing on the rocks above it and collapsed it covering the entrance. Sure, where I fell would be still seen, but by using the Force I covered the entrance up.
I remembered in SWTOR the Hero of Tython's Jedi Master did this to stop the Flesh Raiders in the Story Mode of the game. Wasn't his name Orgus Jin or something? Eh, it doesn't matter. I picked up on this trick, kinda easy.
It was just removing a piece of a structure with telekinesis.
I was thirteen now, my muscles had become defined yet perfect for the grace I held when using Juyo, standing at 5 foot 7 with my now hip-length golden blonde hair was pulled back tightly, framed by the two precise side-locks I maintained with near-ritualistic care.
I wore the simple, durable Jedi apparel I had washed clean; a brown overtunic with an undertunic, utility belt secured around my waist, lightsaber clipped perfectly at the hip. The outfit was practical, concealing the budding curves that were becoming impossible to ignore.
It felt odd having to deal with a growing body again. I mostly ignored it before with my training but right now, it was impossible to do so.
The Moriya I had forged was not the Hotaru that died in a street, nor the Arisu that was left to rot. This Shizuka was disciplined, self-sufficient, and powerful. But the Force wasn't meant to be used in isolation. The texts spoke of attachment to the living, and my own existence felt incomplete, a solitary harmonic in a vast orchestra. It was time to re-join the symphony.
I walked for three days, relying on Force Speed to cover vast distances and Force Sense to avoid any established paths. I passed through thick forest, over winding riverbeds, and down forgotten logging trails.
When I did emerge onto the fringes of rural civilization, the contrast was immediate and jarring. The noise—the engines, the distant music, the cacophony of human chatter—hit me like a physical blow.
I stopped, taking a moment to take it all in and enter a shallow Serenity trance to manage the sensory overload, the restless energy of my mind demanding to process every single input at once.
My first encounter with humanity outside the temple was a man huddled under an overpass. He was thin, shivering, and smelled faintly of rot.
I knelt beside him, the scent making my nose twitch. The Force around him was weak, barely a flicker—life energy draining out like water from a cracked vase. He was starving.
I reached into my pack and pulled out a ration bar—dried meat, berries, and nuts, carefully preserved.
"Eat," I instructed, my voice flat from disuse.
Right, I hadn't used my voice for years now. That's gonna be a problem later.
I mentally sighed about that fact.
He looked up, his eyes widening at my strange clothes and the sheer presence I projected. He didn't speak, only reached out a shaking hand. I placed the bar in his palm. I didn't wait for gratitude; it wasn't required.
But as I walked away, a sudden, urgent spike of pain hit my Force Sense. A block away, a car had wrapped itself around a telephone pole. The driver, a young woman, was trapped, her breathing shallow and ragged, blood blooming across the steering wheel.
I sprinted, the world dilating into slow motion as I engaged Force Speed. The wreckage was a mess of crumpled metal.
Physical Force required.
I reached out, my mind wrapping around the distorted steel like a glove, and with a grunt of exertion, I telekinetically pulled the door off its hinges and gently set it down then pushed the dashboard away from her legs.
With that, I moved in.
I knelt, placing my hands gently over her abdomen where the Force indicated internal bleeding and began to use Force Healing; channelling the energy of The Force into her body. The warmth flowed out of me, a reciprocal transfer that left me weaker but left her stronger as I sensed the internal rupture mend, the haemorrhaging slow, and her life-force stabilize.
She gasped, her eyes flying open. "Who—"
I was already gone, melting back into the shadows of the alley. I had not saved her for recognition. I had saved her because it was the Will of the Force—to preserve life, to restore balance. It was a matter of objective necessity.
I was maybe a kilometre from the edge of Musutafu when a jolt struck my senses—sharp, icy, desperate. Fear. Small. Drowning.
Before I could consciously register it, my feet were already pounding against the dirt path, the world stretching and blurring as Force Speed kicked in. The trees parted to reveal a rushing river swollen from recent rain, frothing violently around a broken walkway.
And in the centre, a boy—nine, maybe—clinging to a snapped metal railing as the current battered his tiny frame.
"Hold on," I muttered under my breath even though he couldn't hear me.
I didn't think; thought would've been too slow. I surged forward, letting the Force gather in my legs. My boots left the ground, launching me in a clean, controlled arc across the rapids. I landed on a jutting rock midstream, water slamming into my ankles hard enough to bruise a normal person, but I had no room for pain.
The railing gave a sickening groan.
"Let go."
The boy's eyes widened at my sudden appearance, but my voice carried the weight of the Force—calm, anchored, absolute.
Before the river could claim him, I extended my hand, telekinetic threads latching onto his small body. The current fought me trying to carry him downstream but the Force flowed through me, steady and sure. I pulled, slow and controlled, placing him gently onto the stone beside me.
He was freezing, borderline hypothermic. His lips were blue, fingers stiff. I crouched, placing my palm against his chest, letting my warmth flow into him—no, not warmth. The Force. Life to life, strength to weakness.
His shivering eased. His pulse steadied. His eyes refocused.
"Y-you... are you a Pro Hero?"
"No." I stood, lifting him effortlessly in my arms. "Just someone who was passing by."
He clung to me the whole walk back to the riverbank. His mother nearly collapsed when she saw him. I handed him over without a word and slipped away as their sobs filled the air.
Gratitude still felt... strange.
I wasn't used to being thanked.
Finally, I worked my way into Musutafu, the pattern repeated itself. A sudden spike of fear and aggression: two men being ambushed by a visibly unstable woman with a Quirk that amplified her shouts into concussive blasts.
I engaged Malacia, turning the girl's equilibrium against her. She dropped to her knees, vomiting, the Quirk collapsing mid-scream that knocked her out. The men thanked me effusively, trying to press crumpled bills into my hand.
I stared at the money, but didn't take it.
"I didn't help out to get paid." I said leaving the money in their hands.
Later that afternoon, I followed the hum of distress like a beacon. A construction site's warning alarms were blaring—metal groaning, panicked shouts ringing out.
A steel support beam—massive, easily weighing a ton—had snapped loose and was plummeting toward a cluster of workers who were too stunned, too slow to run.
I didn't think. I didn't hesitate.
I moved.
Force Enhancement surged through my muscles as I sprinted up the ramp. My heartbeat synchronized with the hum of the Force, and my hand shot upward.
The beam froze in the air, suspended a mere meter above their heads.
A dozen wide eyes stared up at it. At me.
I felt the weight—literal tons of it—pressing against my telekinetic grip, testing the limits of my focus. Sweat gathered on my temple, the strain chewing at my mental reserves.
But strain was irrelevant.
Lowering it would risk scattering debris across the site. So, I didn't lower it. Instead, I pulled my arms back and threw them forwards unleashing a violent shove of the Force that sent it hurtling into an empty lot, crashing earthward in an explosion of dirt and sparks.
"Holy—! Who ARE you?!" One of the workers shouted.
I didn't answer. My senses were locked on the live electrical cable that had been sliced open during the collapse, sparking wildly—seconds from hitting the puddles of runoff water at the workers' feet.
I raised my hand and absorbed the energy into my palm.
Tutaminis drank the electricity greedily, the crackling bolts bending toward me like metal to a magnet. The workers stared as the sparks crawled harmlessly across my skin.
Then—silence.
One worker dropped to his knees. "Thank you. Thank you—if you hadn't—"
"It's fine."
"No seriously, you're a godsend," he said before reaching into his pocket and holding out a pile of bills, "Here take it. You look like you need it, and you aren't a Pro Hero. I don't recognise you after all, ma'am."
"I'm not after money, I just did what was the right thing to do."
Now that I think about it, this technically counted as Vigilantism in this world. And surely, they knew that.
Oh well it doesn't bother me that much, so I simply turned away and left, leaving them with the money.
A decision I would regret as these incidents began to mount a cold, hard truth began to set in.
I was running out of my self-made food. The clothes I wore, though durable, were alien and conspicuous. I needed a place to live, and I needed supplies that the forest could not provide. I needed currency. I mean it was key to surviving.
I had no bank accounts, no legal identity (Arisu Shirogane was meant to be dead after all), and no possessions anyone would buy. I reached into my empty utility pouch. Not a single yen to my name.
'What could I do to fix this?' There wasn't much I could do. Becoming a Hero was why I had set out to Civilisation, only now did I realise that I had no birth certificate either. Birth certificate...
Wasn't there a character who didn't...
"Eri!"
The realisation hit me as soon as I finished my train of thought causing me to stop dead centre on the pedestrian sidewalk, my eyes widening, my breath snagging in my throat. The surrounding street noise—the car horns, the distant sirens—was instantly filtered out, leaving only the thunder of my currently bubbling up rage.
Overhaul!
The Shie Hassaikai... the Quirk-Erasing bullets, a child that's experienced death more than once due to a person's Quirk (which is a Dark Side trait as to defy death was to defy The Force), the girl with such an overpowered Quirk that it was uncontrollable for her. The girl who was experimented on. The sheer, unbearable cruelty of it all.
My hands clenched into fists, the smooth metal of my lightsaber clip digging into my hip. The peace I had so carefully cultivated for over the last decade vanished replaced by a searing, pure, protective fury.
And this was also an opportunity. They had money, dirt and blood money. Money I could take for myself and they had Eri.
I knew where to go. The location from the manga was burned into my memory like a brand. I didn't need a map. I needed justice.
Third-Person POV
The Shie Hassaikai headquarters—a massive, traditional yakuza compound hidden behind a wall of high stone and psychological intimidation—was located in a remote industrial district on the far side of Musutafu. Shizuka arrived just after dusk. The complex was deceptively quiet, the only visible life being the two enforcers stationed at the main gate.
The rage was a fire in her belly, focused not on destruction, but on efficiency. Every step was a commitment to the teachings of The Force even as the Dark Side whispered tempting shortcuts. She was here to save a life, and incidentally, acquire resources.
The ends, in this singular, necessary instance, justified the means.
She did not use Force Speed yet; she moved with a predatory silence honed by years of hunting in the deep forest.
The two guards, armed with high-powered rifles, barely registered the approach of the tall, slight girl in brown robes before they were upon them.
PSHEEEEW!
The sea green blade ignited with a predatory snarl, bathing the immediate area in its cool, plasma light.
Shizuka didn't hesitate; the first guard was cut off at the waist before he could bring his weapon up. The cauterized strike silenced his scream before it began. The second guard, belatedly turning, met the lightsaber in a swift, diagonal slash that bisected his body.
They crumpled silently to the pavement, two perfect halves of their bodies collapsing down, not a single drop of blood in sight. Shizuka was already past them, the lightsaber held low, its deadly hum the only sound breaking the silence. Her silver eyes holding a hyperfocused intensity that normally only appeared during her training.
She was operating on a core principle: these were not merely misguided criminals; they were a necrotic infection on the living Force—organisms actively destroying life to sustain their selfish will. In the eyes of the Force, they were a cancer, and she was the purge.
She used Force Sense as a map, following the strongest, darkest signatures within the sprawling compound—the Eight Bullets and, most importantly, Kai Chisaki.
The interior of the base was a labyrinth of dim corridors and reinforced doors. Shizuka moved through it like a ghost made of light and violence.
A group of six yakuza intercepted her in a hallway. They carried bats, knives, and one had a minor hardening Quirk.
BOOM!
Shizuka unleashed a compact kinetic explosion that hurled the men backward smashing through the concrete wall behind them with bones that were crushed with bones piercing their internal organs. One had their sternum exposed.
More men ran from behind the corner, yet she cut them down with ease, the blur of the sea green light a final punctuation mark. The non-lethal mode was forgotten; she was fuelled by righteous wrath.
She didn't engage in prolonged duels. Juyo was a storm, fuelled by a relentless offense.
The internal alarm system finally shrieked, belatedly announcing the catastrophic breach. Doors slammed shut; armed men poured from every exit.
Shizuka quickly ran into the first of the named enforcers: Shin Nemoto he cornered her in a medical storage area, demanding she reveal her intentions.
"Tell me why you're here!" Nemoto shrieked, extending his hand.
Shizuka didn't slow her advance. She simply wrapped her will around his throat using Force Grip and twisted. Nemoto slumped to the floor, his neck broken instantly.
Next was Rikiya Katsukame (Energy Suck), a massive man who appeared from the floor beneath her. He opened his mouth, prepared to drain her energy.
Shizuka reacted with immediate, desperate Tutaminis. The drain, a psychic violation, hit her like a punch, but she absorbed the attack, allowing the debilitating energy to flow over her, briefly powering her connection. Before he could sustain the drain, she launched a concentrated sphere of kinetic energy that smashed Rikiya into a reinforced wall, collapsing the structure around him. Then she pierced his heart with a thrust.
She continued deeper, her path now a trail of destruction.
Hekiji Tengai, attempted to block her path with an unyielding shield.
Shizuka approached the dome of pure energy vision focused, finding the infinitesimal fault line where the shield's crucial pressure points where the flow originated. With a precise, sudden Force Push against that point, the barrier buckled, then fractured like thin glass, leaving Tengai exposed for a clean, final strike that severed head from body.
Kendo Rappa met her in a wide chamber. He was a whirlwind of powerful punches.
Shizuka pulled the Force around her, increasing her speed massively dodging the flurry of Rappa's fists that were lightning-fast to a normal eye but to her, predictable.
She dodged each blow with inches to spare, weaving through his relentless assault. The attacks were far too numerous to cut the arms or face with Kendo dodging the glowing laser sword with ease.
So, Shizuka decided that he was not worth it.
Arcing bolts of golden lightning flashed forwards sending the hulking male back. Screams escaped his lips as the bolts of Electric Judgement sporadically spread throughout his body.
Whilst not Force Lightning which hurt so much it could be used as a torture method—Electric Judgement did hurt people, which is obvious, but by how much? Well, imagine every fibre inside your body, every muscle, every joint being electrocuted intensely so much so you stop moving.
Yeah, utter hell.
So Shizuka put the man out of his misery by unleashing her maximum power with the ability killing Rappa.
Toya Setsuno telekinetically targeted the lightsaber itself trying to take it for himself, The moment the telekinetic thread latched onto her hilt, Shizuka let go, smirking. Because in one twist of her hand the weapon was sent spinning and cut Toya down.
A group of men rounded the corner trying to kill her before she could call it back, seeing this as their chance to kill the invasive vermin. Shizuka didn't hesitate as she ran forwards, running on the wall with Force Speed before jumping down and calling her saber to her hand then slashing so fast it appeared as if she had more than 1 saber flowing.
Body parts fell to the floor as she stood over them.
She encountered and dispatched the remaining members swiftly—Soramitsu Tabe, Deidoro Sakaki, and Yu Hojo—using a combination of Force Burst and Lightsaber Throw, ensuring the momentum never flagged.
Finally, she faced Hari Kurono, the leader's right hand and needless to say, he didn't get off easy. The man was killed before he even got a chance to use his Quirk.
With the Eight Bullets decimated, Shizuka moved to the main confrontation. She located the deep underground lab instantly—the concentration of fear and dark energy was immense. She paused only to scoop up several thick wads of yen from a discarded office safe, tucking the bills into her bag. And after breaking into another, she found one bullet that she took for later use.
She burst through the reinforced lab door, the sea green blade held high.
The room was dominated by chemical vats, restraint chairs, and a central table covered in biological debris. Kai Chisaki (Overhaul) stood over a terrified, small girl with horn and white hair.
The girl was whimpering, her eyes huge and red-rimmed. Overhaul, meticulous even in panic, held Eri tightly, one hand resting on her shoulder—the unspoken threat of his Quirk palpable.
Overhaul looked up, his golden eyes narrowing behind his bird mask as he took in the scene—the corpses, the glowing sword, the girl in strange clothes. He didn't understand her power, but he understood the threat.
"Stop right there, or the girl dies," Overhaul stated, his voice calm, laced with the casual cruelty of a sociopath. "One touch and she's gone."
The air pressure in the room plummeted.
Shizuka felt the words hit her like a physical blow. The promise of death, the manipulation of an innocent life, the pure darkness radiating from him—it was too much. It mirrored the betrayal of her parents, the abandonment of her past life, the casual violence of Chihiro's words, all distilled into one monstrous figure.
The rage was no longer a controlled fire; it was a detonation.
"You will not touch her," Shizuka's voice was loud, unwavering rosulate. Akin to thunder.
She moved.
Force Speed engaged instantly, burning away the remaining distance between them. Before Overhaul's brain could process the command to activate his Quirk, Shizuka was there. Her free hand—the one not holding the saber—snaked out, wrapped around Eri's small body, and violently pulled her away from Overhaul, tearing the child from his grasp.
She stepped back, shielding Eri with her body, the girl clinging to her tunic.
Even the strongest and wisest Jedi can fall to the Dark Side and so despite all of her training, despite her own control, and purer Juyo...
The Force bent to Shizuku's Will.
Her original instinct—Electric Judgment—was gone, replaced by something visceral, dark, and infinitely more powerful. The energy in her core twisted, corrupted by the hatred and the overwhelming need for punishment.
Rage was her fuel. Vengeance was the goal.
With a roar that tore from her chest—a sound more animal than human—she pointed her right index and middle fingers at Overhaul.
KZZZZZZT!!!
The lightning was Red.
It wasn't the searing yellow of Electric Judgment; it was a thick, angry crimson, bolts of pure necrotic energy lashing out and enveloping Overhaul.
He screamed—a high, agonized sound that echoed off the cold walls. The electrical field did not just burn; it calcified. His flesh smoked, his bones glowed beneath his skin, and his body spasmed violently. His Quirk, tied to his very being, was violently suppressed severed by the pure Dark Side venom.
Shizuka felt the raw, intoxicating power. The feeling of absolute control, the release of all discipline, the satisfaction of inflicting pain to match the villain's crimes. It felt good. It felt easy. The Dark Side was a rush, a high, a drug that promised finality and peace through overwhelming strength.
She pushed more power into the lightning, letting the crimson bolts play over his body. She didn't stop until he was a charred, crippled mass, spasming uncontrollably on the ground, his scream now a pathetic gurgle.
Then, she stopped.
The crimson lightning snapped off. The surge of darkness evaporated, leaving a cold, terrifying void.
The smell of ozone, burnt flesh, and blood filled the chamber.
Shizuka stood there, chest heaving, her silver eyes wide with horror, not at Overhaul, but at herself. Her fingers trembled.
'I tortured him.' The thought was a hammer blow. The power, the pleasure—the sheer efficiency of the hate—it was everything the Jedi texts warned against. It was the easy path. She had sought justice, but she had delivered cruelty. 'This is not who I am.'
And yet she did, she did it. It was her.
Her legs felt weak.
The grip of the Dark Side, however brief, was terrifyingly real. It had not tricked her; it had offered her truth—the truth of her own overwhelming capacity for violence and vengeance born from deep, unhealed trauma.
She closed her eyes, clutching Eri tightly to her side. The little girl was silent, whimpering quietly into her robes... luckily the girl didn't see what she just did.
"No," Shizuka whispered, the word a vow.
She would not be defined by the easy rage. She wouldn't feed the darkness in the world.
She opened her mind completely, surrendering her own will, her own pride, her own fear and hatred, to the Force. She chose the hard path. She chose Light.
The Force responded—the cold void was instantly replaced by a wave of pure, harmonious warmth, a current of calm reassurance. She faced a mirror and destroyed it.
She looked at the writhing form of Kai Chisaki. He was no longer a symbol of her rage, just a broken thing.
She ignited her lightsaber one final time. She was not fueled by anger, but by mercy.
SNICK.
She plunged the blade into his chest. Clean. Immediate.
The hum of the blade died. She clipped the hilt back onto her belt.
Shizuka Moriya was exhausted, depleted, but whole.
Eri clung to Shizuka's chest, her tiny arms locked around the Jedi's neck. The girl was silent, utterly terrified, but she was alive.
Shizuka moved through the ruined facility, ignoring the carnage she had wrought. She found two large, reinforced travel bags and methodically emptied the Shie Hassaikai's stash of yen and other negotiable assets into them. She salvaged medical supplies and clothing.
She carried Eri out of the compound, using Force Sense to ensure no one followed.
They walked until dawn broke. Shizuka found a secluded park bench and settled down, taking inventory.
She had enough currency to live on for years but had something far more complicated now: a six-year-old girl.
Eri looked up at her, large red eyes shining with unshed tears. "Who are you?"
Shizuka looked at the girl—at the horn, the immense power, the crushing trauma. She looked at the raw innocence clinging to her.
Attachment is forbidden. The Jedi Code warned.
But love without attachment was possible. In the words of Obi-Wans first love—in Legends—Siri Tachi stated that love without attachment was, "To love without wanting to possess or influence. To cherish without keeping. To have without holding."
Eri was alone.
She had no mother—said person gave her up shortly after her birth. She had no father—her quirk did that one and what were initially her protectors turned torturers—that Shizuka had just dealt with.
Thus, the girl was now Shizuka's responsibility.
"My name is Shizuka," she said, her voice still rough, yet now with a softness to it that nobody else could provide, "I am going to take care of you."
Eri didn't say anything, she just burrowed her head deeper into Shizuka's tunic, holding on as if Shizuka was the only anchor left in her shattered world.
Shizuka knew she couldn't simply wander the streets. She needed immediate stability.
She used a small amount of cash to buy two simple changes of clothes for Eri and herself from a 24-hour convenience store. Then, using her Telepathy to discreetly gauge real estate prices (and avoiding agents who would likely use their Quirks to lie), she settled on a moderate apartment building in a quiet, central district of Musutafu.
It was a small, two-bedroom unit—one for her, one for Eri. She paid in cash for three years' rent, plus a massive deposit, using a plausible cover story about an inheritance from a distant, reclusive relative. The apartment was now hers.
Settled in the quiet, empty rooms, a new, complex problem presented itself.
Eri.
Shizuka knew the girl's Quirk, Rewind. Rewind reverses a living being's body back to a previous state. A power that essentially turns back the clock altering age, reversing damage and even rewind people out of existence itself. And Overhaul was using her to create Quirk-Erasing bullets. It was fortunate she saved the girl now. The scale of the girl's trauma was staggering but not untreatable.
'I might have jumped the gun massively since Eri has no identification, no medical history, and no legal guardian—and I can't register her existence without attracting the kind of attention that would expose the existence of the Force, my abilities, and the entire Shie Hassaikai massacre. Yet looking at Eri... I feel a deep seeded desire to protect this innocent child.'
Shizuka sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of her new, self-imposed mission. And yet she somehow didn't mind.
She had gotten attached to the girl in such a short time.
1 Week Later
The apartment was quiet. One week had passed since the massacre at the Shie Hassaikai compound. An event that made national news as the base of a Yakuza group was discovered with bodies everywhere. A week of investigation for the police.
For Shizuka, it had been a week defined by silence, routine, and care. She had established a rhythm of training, meditation, and reading, all while taking care of Eri.
Eri, still mostly mute, spent her time in Shizuka's old Jedi tunic (which served as an oversized, comforting blanket), drawing shaky pictures with crayons Shizuka had purchased. The quiet was a fragile, hard-won peace.
Shizuka had used her skills to erase her immediate trail: Force illusion subtly obscured the apartment entrance, she used Force Cloak to move around the neighbourhood, and she wiped her face from any lingering security cameras, deleting the memory of her existence in the immediate vicinity of the Shie Hassaikai headquarters.
However, erasing the eighty-eight corpses and the structural collapse was impossible.
The police investigation, led by the Musutafu Police Department and covertly assisted by the Sir Nighteye Agency (due to their existing investigation into the Yakuza), had been swift and grim. The crime scene was labeled an unprecedented Vigilante Mass Homicide.
Shizuka was in the kitchen, preparing a nutrient-rich vegetable broth for miso pork ramen, when the knock came.
It wasn't loud. It was precise, measured, and formal—three short, firm raps.
Shizuka froze, but only for a fraction of a second. She didn't need Force Sense to know who it was given what she had done.
Eri, across the small living room, startled, dropping her crayon. She instantly curled into a fetal position; eyes wide with the familiar terror of authority figures. Shizuka moved over after turning the stove off.
"Stay," Shizuka stated, calm yet kind as she put her hand on the young girl's shoulder smiling at the frightened child with the kind of gentleness only an older sister or mother would have. "They are not here for you. They cannot hurt you. I'll protect you, okay?"
With a soft nod from Eri, Shizuka moved to the front door and peered through the peephole.
Standing outside were two men. The first was Sir Nighteye, the Pro Hero—tall, unnervingly thin, with impeccable posture and a severe expression. His yellow suit was immaculate. The second was Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi, wearing a simple trench coat and a look of professional exhaustion.
Shizuka assessed the situation. Running was an option, but it would confirm guilt and put Eri in danger of being pursued. Confrontation was better. She was operating under the tenets of the Jedi Code: There is no Chaos, there is Harmony. She would meet their questions with Truth, allowing the Force to guide her defence.
She opened the door.
Naomasa Tsukauchi offered a tired, professional smile. "Good evening, ma'am. We apologize for the intrusion. We're investigating an incident in the industrial district. My name is Detective Tsukauchi, and this is Sir Nighteye. We just have a few questions."
Shizuka stood straight, her brown robes and the tightly pulled golden hair making her appear far older and more severe than her thirteen years. Her silver eyes fixed on the Detective.
"You may enter," she said, stepping aside.
The men walked into the apartment. Nighteye immediately began scanning the sparse, clean room, his eyes taking in the lack of personal effects, the subtle scent of exotic spices, and the unusual geometric arrangement of the furniture.
Tsukauchi settled onto a plain chair. "We understand you recently acquired this lease, Ms...?"
"Moriya," Shizuka stated. "Shizuka Moriya. I prefer to be called Shizuka."
Tsukauchi nodded, his expression remaining neutral.
'He's lying about the lease being recent, he's trying to verify how long I've been here.' Shizuka registered the slight hesitation in the air and the way The Force swirled in this moment. It was such a crucial, destiny defying moment that The Force itself was interested in how Shizuka would proceed.
It was as if The Force was testing her in this moment.
And so began Shizuka's 3rd Jedi Trial.
"Shizuka Moriya. That's your full, legal name?" Tsukauchi first asked, deciding to see if this girl was trying to trick them with a false name.
"It is the name I chose and the name I use. I was not registered at birth with this name."
Ding! Tsukauchi's internal signal chimed: True.
This was Tsukauchi's Quirk. It was similar to his sisters, but worked slightly differently. Whilst his sister had to touch people in order to use her Quirk, Tsukuachi needn't worry about that factor. However, the weaknesses were pretty simple...
The Detective blinked once, subtly confused. 'A truthful lie? No, a truthfully stated intent.'
If the person answering the questions answers with what they believe to be true then his Quirk will signal it as truth as well. Alongside this, his Quirk showed half-truths as true thus relying on his Quirk was bad when a criminal anticipated it.
Tsuakuachi knew better than anyone to not rely on Quirk when it came to investigations, for if half-truths are involved then it would be bad.
He continued, adjusting his position. "We are investigating the massive homicide that occurred at the Shie Hassaikai headquarters three days ago. There is reason to believe you were present. Were you there or not?"
"I was present."
DING.True.
Nighteye spoke for the first time, his voice a dry, penetrating whisper. "Thirty-four men, all neutralized via extreme, focused violence. Many were simply cut in half or crushed. The level of power involved is unprecedented. We recovered a high concentration of plasma residue and evidence of localized electrical discharge on the bodies. Did you kill them?"
Shizuka looked directly at the Pro Hero. "I killed Kai Chisaki. The others perished resisting my entrance and rescue operation."
Tsukauchi's Quirk had another a third weakness: Tsukuachi himself had to be the one doing the questioning in order for his Quirk to work but he adapted to kill two birds with one stone in order to see if
"You refer to it as a 'rescue operation.' Was there a victim involved and was this victim why you killed so many people?"
Shizuka realised that she had to tell a half-truth here.
Shizuka centred herself. She reached out with her feelings, not to the men, but to the memory of that day. She recalled the moment she had remembered about Eri. Her past life's memories were involve but the pull of The Force was there. The undeniable gravity of the Force guiding her toward the Shie Hassaikai.
She had not gone there because she read a manga in a past life; she had gone there because the Force had screamed at her that an imbalance existed. A child was suffering. That was the truth of this life.
The half-truth that would work.
"There was a victim," Shizuka answered, her voice steady, devoid of the tremors a thirteen-year-old should have. "A child. And yes, her safety was the catalyst for my actions. I could not ignore the disturbance I felt."
DING.
Tsukauchi blinked. The machine in his mind registered the statement as fact. He exchanged a quick, unreadable glance with Nighteye.
"A disturbance?" Tsukauchi pressed, his tone careful. "You're saying you didn't have prior intelligence? You weren't investigating the Shie Hassaikai previously? You just... felt something?"
Here lay the precipice. If she said 'I knew because I read about it,' she would be labelled insane. If she lied, she would be caught. She had to weave the half-truth right now.
"I had no prior knowledge of the Shie Hassaikai's specific operations or their roster," Shizuka stated. This was technically true; Hotaru had never researched them and Shizuka Moriya had only remembered them in a flash of insight. "However, as I walked the city, I felt a profound sense of suffering. A tear in the natural order. It was a cold, suffocating weight radiating from that district. I followed that feeling. It led me to the girl."
DING.
Tsukauchi frowned, rubbing his chin. "You 'felt' suffering from kilometres away? Is that the nature of your Quirk? A sensory type?"
Shizuka's eyes narrowed by a fraction of a millimetre. This was the question she had anticipated. The world of My Hero Academia categorized everything into Quirks. To them, she was an anomaly because she was Quirkless. But to say "I am Quirkless" while wielding telekinesis would register as a lie because she had power. To say "Yes, it is my Quirk" would be a lie because the Force was not a Quirk.
"I do not possess a Quirk," Shizuka said clearly.
The silence that followed was absolute. Even Eri, hiding behind the sofa, seemed to hold her breath.
Tsukauchi stared at her. He waited for the internal dissonance, the signal of a falsehood.
DING. True.
The Detective's eyes widened. He shifted in his seat, looking genuinely unsettled. "Excuse me? My Quirk... it registers that as the truth. But we have footage from security cameras near the perimeter. We have the forensic evidence of the bodies. You utilized telekinesis, energy projection, and enhanced speed. You are telling me you are Quirkless?"
"I am," Shizuka affirmed. "The power I wield is not a genetic mutation. It is called The Force."
Shizuka pointed to Sir Nighteye, then to Eri, then everywhere in the room adding: "The Force is an energy field that is produced by all life and it permeates us, binds us all together on the metaphysical level. All I merely do is tap into this Energy Field and let it guide me. Because the Force has a Will that knows greater than us all."
Shizuka spoke of the Force with an almost reverent tone. Her hyperfocus had been on the Force for years now. And it was not wasted.
DING!
Tsukauchi was stunned into silence. Surely, he must've misheard his own Quirk, right? Right? The Force? Did it even exist? But then Shizuka continued.
"In this moment, The Force swirls around us 3. Sir Nighteye, you detective and me. As if this moment is something that can change the outcome of this world."
Yet another DING was heard to Tsukuachi.
The girl was actually telling the Truth.
Tsukauchi leaned back, running a hand over his short hair, his professional exhaustion now replaced by intense confusion. His Quirk, the bedrock of his career and trust within the Hero system, had just delivered a factual statement that contradicted the entire biological understanding of his world.
"Let me be clear, Shizuka-san," he began, his voice dropping slightly. "You are claiming that your physical abilities—your telekinesis, the plasma discharge, the enhanced speed—stem from a metaphysical energy field called 'The Force,' which you tap into, and that this power is not a Quirk?"
"That is correct," Shizuka replied calmly.
Ding!
"Is this a power anyone can learn?" Tsukachi felt that there was a limitation to who could learn this power.
"No." Shizuka answered than elaborated. "A sentients sensitivity to The Force is dependent on their Midi-Chlorian count. The Midi-Chlorians are simply put intelligent microscopic life-forms that live symbiotically inside the cells of all living things without the Midi-Chlorians life as we know it would not exist and no knowledge of The Force. Normal individuals possess counts of two thousand per cell, with people rarely possessing more. Force Sensitives require a Midi-Chlorian count of forty-five hundred to be slightly able to tap into The Force."
Tsukauchi leaned forward, his face a roadmap of disbelief. His Quirk, the infallible judge of veracity, was telling him the girl was not only Quirkless but was deriving her superhuman strength from a symbiotic relationship with "intelligent microscopic life-forms" that possessed a "Will." This was not a half-truth; it was a mythology, delivered with the absolute sincerity of fact.
DING!
"Forty-five hundred," Tsukauchi repeated slowly, trying to process the number. "And what is your count, Shizuka-san?"
Shizuka sighed, disappointed to an extent, "I don't know. I just know I'm Force-Sensitive to the degree that the Force comes easy to me."
It was true, the temple she had found had no Midi-Chlorian testers. Because anyone who found it would have been inexplicably pulled towards it making them Force-Sensitive by default. Because only The Force could decide if someone found a Temple like that or not.
However, I as the Author do prefer you to know her count so she has 19,500 per cell. Just under Anakin's count of over 20,000, which is like 22 to 25 thousand.
Ding!
The detective ran a shaky hand over his head. The internal chime, the signal of absolute truth, was undermining his entire reality. If she was telling the truth about the Force, then the very foundations of Quirk theory were insufficient. He glanced at the sofa where a tiny tuft of white hair was visible; the girl, the victim. The reality of the massacre was undeniable.
Sir Nighteye, who had been silent, observing the bizarre exchange with a gaze that seemed to pierce through the walls, finally spoke again. His voice was low, laced with professional suspicion and intellectual curiosity.
"If this 'Force' guided you, Shizuka-san, then it is responsible for the systematic slaughter of dozens of men. You claimed you killed Kai Chisaki. We found evidence that he was incapacitated and tortured before the final, precise blow. Was that necessary for the rescue of the child?"
Shizuka met his gaze without flinching. Her composure was absolute, but the memory was sharp—the crimson lightning, the intoxicating power, the self-loathing immediately following. She chose her words carefully, adhering to the deepest truth of her experience.
"The initial incapacitation was fueled by rage and vengeance—emotions I allowed to cloud my judgment regarding the Will of the Force," Shizuka stated. "I stopped before ending his life in that state. My final action against him was swift and aimed at removing the threat permanently. I do not believe the torture was necessary. It was a failure of my own self-control. If I could go back, I'd have ended him without the torture."
Tsukauchi flinched. The admission of failure, of anger, was something criminals rarely admitted. Yet, the entire statement was registered as true by the internal ding of his Quirk.
Tsukauchi spoke quickly, trying to regain control of the trajectory of the conversation. "You admit to acting out of vengeance, yet you claim to follow this benevolent Force. Did the Force guide you to deposit the substantial amount of money you acquired from the Shie Hassaikai into your backpack?"
Shizuka tilted her head slightly. "The Force guides my survival. I acted upon an immediate, undeniable truth: a child requires resources, stability, and a home. The Shie Hassaikai's resources, acquired through illegal means and suffering, were necessary to provide those things for Eri. Plus, I had none of for myself. The rest of the assets you seized can be used for charity. It was an act of redistribution, not greed."
DING!
Nighteye interjected, his eyes narrowing to slits. "You admit to mass murder and theft, and yet you frame it as a religious crusade for balance and sustenance. How can you expect society to tolerate a vigilante who operates outside the law, killing at will based on subjective 'feelings'?"
"I do not expect tolerance. I expect balance," Shizuka countered, her voice taking on the cool, didactic tone of Hotaru the prodigy. "The Yakuza operated outside your law, creating immense, systemic suffering for years. Your system failed to contain them and failed to protect Eri. My actions corrected a critical imbalance within the living structure of this city. Furthermore, I have done nothing since that night but use my abilities to preserve life and restore health."
She looked pointedly at Tsukauchi. "If you check records, you will find several instances of major rescue that occurred in the five days before my arrival at the compound. All were selfless actions performed without expectation of reward. Though it can count as Vigilantism."
Tsukauchi instinctively reached for his notepad, eyes widening slightly. He knew he'd only been focused on the crime, not the surrounding days.
"You mentioned a 'rescue operation' for the child. What is her name, and what is your relationship to her?" Tsukauchi asked.
Shizuka felt Eri flinch slightly behind the sofa and suddenly felt a wave of protectiveness for the young girl. "Her name is Eri. She was being experimented on and her legal status is currently void, as she was deliberately erased from the public record. Both crimes done by the Yakuza."
"Experimented on?" Tsukauchi asked.
"Eri's Quirk is called Rewind, she reverses a living being's body back to a previous state. A power that essentially turns back the clock altering age, reversing damage and even rewinding people out of existence itself based on what happened to her father. The Yakuza were using her in an attempt to create Quirk Erasing Bullets based on what I managed to figure out."
Shizuka then take a Bullet out, placing it on the table. "They only made one. And from what I know it's very incomplete, lasting for maybe 10 seconds at most. I took it for analysis through my Psychometry. The memories of who made it are why I know what exactly happened to Eri."
Shizuka clenched her fists as protective rage threatened to boil over. Yeah, she actually did this. Even if she knew what happened in Canon, she wanted to understand if there were more bullets and how much progress they had made to the bullet.
She was lucky that they only just began the experiments.
But trauma like Eri's doesn't vanish instantly.
Shizuka breathed in and out, relaxing her muscles.
Tsukauchi stared at the small, black bullet casing Shizuka had placed on the table—evidence of a crime far more insidious than simple Yakuza racketeering. The gravity of the Rewind Quirk and the experiments using Eri were devastating, but the girl's calm delivery was the most unsettling factor.
"A bullet that reverses Quirks... and you determined this and the nature of her Quirk through 'Psychometry'?" Tsukauchi asked, the word tasting alien on his tongue.
"Psychometry is a Force ability," Shizuka explained patiently, as though explaining a geometric proof. "It allows me to perceive the history and emotional imprint of an object—in this case, the creation and purpose of that bullet. It shows me the how and why it was made, and the suffering involved in its forging."
DING!
Tsukauchi rubbed his temples. "So, to recap: you are Quirkless, you killed dozens of criminals, stole cash, and rescued a child who was being used to create a biological weapon. All based on a metaphysical feeling and confirmed by touching a bullet that told you its life story. And every word you have spoken has been verified as the absolute truth."
He sighed, leaning back, the metal chair creaking under his weight. "We have a problem, Shizuka-san. Your actions, regardless of your intent, constitute premeditated vigilantism and multiple counts of justifiable homicide. You have removed a child from a crime scene—a vital witness and victim—and concealed her. We cannot, under law, simply accept your story of the Force and allow you to walk away."
Sir Nighteye's stare was unwavering, cold, and deeply analytical. He had witnessed the constant affirmation from the Detective's Quirk. He knew the girl was telling the truth as she perceived it, but truth does not equal legality.
"Your abilities," Nighteye's voice cut in, "are a threat to public order. They are beyond the scope of any registered Quirk. If you are not a Hero, you are a menace. What assurance can you give the state that you will not execute more criminals based on your subjective judgment of 'balance'?"
Shizuka looked at him, not with defiance, but with clear, resolute commitment. "I am already operating within a code far more rigid than your Hero laws. The Force demands preservation of life, selfless action, and adherence to the Light. My failure at the compound—the act of torture—was a violation of that code, and I paid the price in self-loathing and a momentary surrender to the Dark Side. That will not be repeated."
She paused, then continued, her silver eyes locking onto Nighteye's. "I left the compound three days ago. In those three days, I have sought only to integrate into this society peacefully, using the resources seized only for the girl's survival. I intend to become a Hero—one who operates under the guiding principles of the Force, dedicated to the protection of the innocent and the maintenance of peace."
DING!
Tsukauchi felt another wave of professional shock. She was claiming she would adhere to the law... as a Hero.
"You cannot become a hero, Shizuka-san," Nighteye stated flatly. "You have no legal identity, no birth records, and you have committed homicide. Furthermore, you are Quirkless in the eyes of the system. Even if your power is real, without registration, without a legal history, you cannot enroll in an accredited institution."
"Then one must be created," Shizuka countered, unfazed. "I require legal existence to pursue The Force's calling for me here. In exchange for the evidence I have provided regarding the Quirk-erasing bullets, the complete eradication of a major Yakuza syndicate, and the rescue of Eri, I propose a compromise."
"Eri requires immediate, specialized care. She is a trauma victim whose Quirk has already led to the death of her father. She cannot be thrown into the public system, where she would be immediately identified by remaining Yakuza factions or hostile foreign intelligence interested in her power. I am the only person who can provide immediate, stable care and protection that has proven effective."
"And the compromise?" Tsukauchi asked, sensing a way forward.
"I will cooperate fully with the police regarding the Shie Hassaikai investigation, provide accurate, truthful details regarding their operations, and ensure the complete cessation of all 'vigilante' activity," Shizuka offered. "In return, the state facilitates my legal identity—a clean slate, with official documentation with Eri becoming Eri Moriya recognising me as Eri's full legal guardian. She will need legal documentation herself after all."
Shizuka concluded with perfect, unwavering honesty: "My goal is peace. Your goal is order. This is the path to achieving both."
Tsukauchi looked at Nighteye, who was now rubbing his own chin, the professional detachment of a Pro Hero warring with the pragmatic relief of a police detective. They had a clean sweep of the Yakuza, a trove of intelligence on a devastating new threat (the bullets), and the victim was safe. The girl who did it was offering to cooperate completely and transition from mass murderer to Hero candidate.
"We will require time to deliberate, Shizuka-san," Tsukauchi stated, rising. "Do not leave this city. Do not use your abilities for violence. If we find any evidence of continued vigilantism, we will treat you as an enemy of the state."
"Understood," Shizuka said, also rising, her Jedi robes swaying slightly. "May the Force be with you in your deliberations."
The two men exchanged one final, confused glance at the casual use of the strange phrase before exiting the apartment, leaving the silence to descend once more.
Shizuka closed the door, leaned against it, and let out a long, slow breath. The mental exertion of the interview had been immense, yet she had won.
And perhaps, she had expected a bit more. The Force swirled around her normally now. Shizuka's path had been chosen.
Eri crept out, clinging to Shizuka's leg, looking up at her new protector with wide, trusting eyes. "Are they gone now, Shizu Nee-chan?"
Ah right, Eri had came up with the nickname for her.
"Yeah, they are gone now." Shizuka was calm yet her voice held a hint of fond softness.
Yeah, this was going to be a long year and a half.