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Part 2 of Kindred
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2022-12-11
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2024-12-15
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12/?
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First of a Kind

Chapter 12: Curb Stomp

Summary:

Internships have arrived for everyone, and some are having better starts than others. Meanwhile, Izuku finds out the real reason behind Nezu's own offer, and Harry prepares his final march on the Shie Hassaikai.

Notes:

Hello hello! I'm back a day later than usual, and this time I actually have a real thing to put in these here Start Notes beyond personal updates! Normally a weird place because you can't really talk about anything in the upcoming chapter (that's what End Notes are for), but this time I actually have something I want to talk about from last chapter!

So yeah, I mentioned last time I wasn't entirely happy with Izuku's hero name, which I've left the explanation of in the End Notes of last chapter, and that it was still subject to change. Well, an extra week has given me something I'm personally more satisfied with. And it also simultaneously gives me a nice opportunity to mention the translator's dilemma.

The new hero name I've come up with and am almost definitely keeping for the rest of this fic, which I've already adjusted the naming scene last chapter for, is Nagoriya/Remnant (名残や). The first two kanji on their own (Nagori/名残) are an alternate spelling for Memory, and a homophone for Nagori (名残り) means Remnants (traces, vestiges). I then also added the -ya up there with the first two kanji to form Nagoriya, which Google Translate still thinks means Remnants (though it seems wonky to me, but I'll let my ignorance play in my favor), mainly to have it sound very close to Izuku's family name Midoriya (especially since 'do' and 'go' don't sound too far apart phonetically here, so the last three of four syllables sound almost identical). I personally think it has more depth than just the directly translated Keishō/Inheritance. Inheritance already was pretty close in meaning to Legacy in the epithet, while this is further removed. But more importantly, the new name now both refers to the memory of a lost world, which Izuku wants to carry with him, and him being a living remnant of said world. And of course the slight pun referring to his family name has meaning in him considering Harry his family, and addresses the kinship he feels with the witches and wizards of the past.

And this is where I touch on the translator's dilemma, because the actual name Nagoriya feels a little too clunky for practical use. Then again, Remnant is a perfect word that I think works directly as a hero name, unlike Inheritance (also see four syllables versus two, which is reversed between the Keishō/Inheritance and Nagoriya/Remnant cases lol). Of course, by using Remnant I now lose the implicit meanings Nagoriya carries, even if it sounds better and most people won't care about those anyway (and the translations might very well be faulty anyway, plus it gives plural when I'm using singular, but it's the thought that counts, right guys?). Hence the translator's dilemma. Then again, I explained the full meaning in the scene introducing the name last chapter (which I've changed by now).

Of course, as this is a fic about a manga, while the characters mostly talk in English in the text, in reality they speak Japanese unless directly specified otherwise, meaning in reality they do say Nagori/Nagoriya every time they use Remnant in the fic. And yeah, the name Remnant gives off a slightly more somber tone than typical hero names, but I'd say that fits with the general situation of the magical world in this setting. But enough yapping before this turns as long as the End Notes. Back to the usual!

Wrote the last scene or two today blah blah there's a section involving Pony where I indulged in adding exposition for world building's sake a bit blah blah this is a huge chapter, bigger than chapter eight, so I've split it up with partway mark html skips just down below oh Jesus I'm so sorry it's over 20k words I only just checked blah blah thanks for all the kind words last chapter! <3 <3

First third mark skip: The Shinigami Walks
Second third mark skip: A Hole that Means Comfort

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It was a normal Monday afternoon, business as usual in Osaka, Asahi Ward. People heading out for lunch, a random villain attack delaying trains, the usual.

And this residential complex didn’t look anything out of the ordinary either. It resembled a traditional Japanese compound neighboring several office buildings, people heading in and out for work.

If not for his time spent with the scrying mirror, Harry would never have suspected the existence of the ominous labyrinthian complex sprawling under his feet. How long must a group have been established to have been able to construct something like that?

He took out a sandwich and took a bite from it as he observed the innocuous residence, back to wearing his casual jeans and hoodie-shaped and glamoured Invisibility Cloak.

Just that morning, after waving off Izuku, he’d gone back to scrying, this time with the new name he’d overheard. And he’d been right, the mook had more than readily headed out of the complex, walking down the street for some hearty breakfast. Tracking down the actual place after half an hour of watching the mook’s morning ritual was laughably easy compared to the weeks of no progress preceding it.

Harry breathed in. Everything was telling him to go, but he wasn’t ready yet. He’d have to figure out the layout and whether there were any quirks down there that could genuinely hinder him if he was taken off-guard, which would only take a day or two, but that wasn’t all. Yes, he could just use his Cloak, casually stroll through the compound, find Eri, and head back out with her in his arms and nobody the wiser. But 1) he needed some time alone with her, uninterrupted. While he’d managed with Little Silver, she’d been…a version unburdened with the direct memories of the past and present. He wasn’t sure how getting Eri to trust him would be in comparison.

He wanted time to approach her with the gentleness it required, to get her to genuinely trust him in taking her away. He didn’t want this to get a bad start. 2) Getting back out was a bit more difficult, especially with someone far more vulnerable with him. He had no idea if quirked people would be agreeable to side-along apparition. Perhaps they just wouldn’t be side-alonged, or they’d instead come out the other end looking like the last panel of Junji Ito’s Enigma of Amigara Fault- Yes, he’d started reading some cult classic manga since coming here, and he was sort of regretting it with how those images were stuck in his mind now. Either way, it wasn’t anything he wanted to experiment with in the moment.

But most importantly, 3) he wanted to casually and unceremoniously beat every single higher-ranking member of the Shie Hassaikai into a pulp and turn them in, for which he needed concrete evidence. He hoped showing Eri how easily he’d beaten up every single person who’d caused her pain and misery, along with the promise they’d never be able to come after her ever again, would help her ease into a form of comfort and open up to him again.

Hm, he’d have to figure out which agency was closest to here and most equipped to handle a sudden increase of captives, and he had to- ugh, set up the paperwork in advance.

Ah, but he was getting ahead of himself. Harry threw the remaining wrapper of his sandwich into the bin and flipped up his hoodie, fading out of existence.

Time to do some info and evidence gathering.

 


 

“Tell me, what made you choose my offer?”

Red eyes glared up at the jean-clad, tall figure casually posing across the office.

There was a scoff. “You’re the one who made it. I picked because you’re the highest rank I could go to. If there’s anyone who can show me what it’s like at the top, it’s you.”

The eyes of Best Jeanist stared back from across the office, through the gap between the neatly side-swept blond hair and the absurdly high jean collar of his hero costume.

“Believe me, I know exactly why you chose me. I was counting on it when I made the offer.” Best Jeanist tucked a singular stray strand back into place. “To be frank, I don’t like you-”

Bakugō twitched, taking a step forward, but he stopped in his tracks when Best Jeanist pointed at him.

“-and more importantly, that question wasn’t yours.”

The pointed finger moved to the side-

-and down.

“I was asking you.”

Minoru gulped, taking a few more steps to the side, away from Bakugō’s twitching figure.

He hadn’t expected anyone else from UA to be coming here, let alone him!

Where was that cute slightly chubby girl from 1-B that had cussed him out and thrown him to the curb?!

Oh, right, and the number four hero was expecting him to answer!

“Uh…I don’t know?” he answered.

Best Jeanist’s eyes narrowed, in disappointment, probably.

“No, no, not like that!” he hastily said. “I just don’t know- uh…”

 


 

One week ago

Minoru slurped on his grape juice, minding his own business.

“I can’t believe your uncle took over another lesson, again,” Tsunotori said with a giggle as she sat down at the table with her tray, holding a basket of apples among other things.

“I’m sorry, I’m not making him do that,” Midoriya apologized with a wobbly grin as he sat down at the table as well.

Minoru still wasn’t entirely sure why those two always did that every lunch.

“Oh, no, it’s great!” Tsunotori denied, taking a bite out of an apple. “Nuhw I gedd a whool week t' thhink!” She swallowed, her smile fading. “I was so sure of what I wanted when we started, but then I got- uh…second thoughts?”

“Second thoughts,” Midoriya supplied in Japanese.

Minoru ignored the bright, “Yeah, that!” something else nagging him.

“Why are you at UA anyway?”

He instantly got a very disappointed stare from Midoriya.

“Hey, that’s not what I meant! Let me finish!” he objected. “Why are you going to a hero school in Japan?” he asked Tsunotori again, this time with more…tact. “You still have trouble with Japanese.”

“Yeah,” Midoriya joined in, thankfully not staring- nearly glaring at him anymore. “There’s almost too many hero schools in the US to count, right?” He paused. “I mean, I’m really happy you came here, but…”

Despite the both of them lacking some tact, Tsunotori took it with a giggle. “That’s fine,” she said. “I just think Japanese heroes are soooo much cooler than the ones back home.”

Midoriya blinked. “How come?”

“Heroes in the States are more- uh…special law enforcement? Heroes still have costumes and hero stuff and there are agencies, but those are more like worker’s unions than hero companies, and heroes are usually assigned to a service as back-up. Hero schools are more like special courses in police academies and military schools,” Tsunotori explained, before perking up with excitement. “But here heroes are super independent, and the schools too! So over the top! That kaiju robot at the exams! It’s like everything is straight out of an anime!”

Midoriya smiled at her as Minoru snickered. Even if nobody had known at first, everyone in class was very aware of her infatuation with anime, ever since the first week. He sorta wondered exactly what kinds of anime she knew of. And based on how her shouts had brought some attention from nearby tables on them, the entire school would soon know too.

“How do exchange students even function at UA?” Midoriya asked, taking a quick bite from his food. “Do you have a special building UA set aside? I know there’s at least an exchange student in 1-B, and not sure about Aoyama…Or did you have to find an apartment yourself?”

Actually, the thought of her living on her own in some apartment outside school hours was kinda upsetting.

Meanwhile, Tsunotori giggled again. “No, silly, I’m living with my daddy right now.”

Midoriya blinked. “Oh! Right, of course! You’re half-” He slapped his head. “You have a Japanese surname, why didn’t I-”

“It’s okay, Midoriya- err-kun,” Tsunotori interrupted, before gaining an almost bashful expression. “Actually, I have my mom’s surname. Dad just told me I’d fit in better if I- uh, ‘Japanified’ it.”

“Then…?” Poor Midoriya only looked more confused.

“Do you know ‘Cow Lady’?”

And instantly, Midoriya’s expression turned thrilled. “Oh! Isn’t that one of the heroes who was on active duty in LA when All Might studied there?”

Tsunotori nodded with a smile. “Yup! She’s family. Even in retirement she gets interview requests for All Might documentaries.” She laughed. “She’s my inspiration.”

Midoriya nodded. “Isn’t her civilian name, uh…Grabhorn Katie- I mean, other way around?” He suddenly paused. “Tsuno…horn…take- Oh!”

Minoru snickered as Midoriya slapped his head for the second time that lunch.

“I actually thought of a fun hero name in homeroom,” Tsunotori continued. “But then…I’m not sure if that’s the kind of hero I still wanna be, after those villains got us…It’s making me think again. I’m happy to have more time for it.”

Huh…rethink.

For some reason, that sentiment really resonated with Minoru.

 


 

If he’d found out about this offer before, he’d have picked it because Best Jeanist was number two in the ‘popularity’ ranking, only behind All Might. And his entire reason for enrolling at UA and becoming a hero was because he wanted to be popular!

If you were well-known and popular, then you had a far better chance at getting girls to know of you! And the more girls, the bigger the chance Minoru’d find a girl that didn’t mind him, and even more than that.

Except…it felt kind of weird now.

 

~“Thanks for helping me with that question, Mineta-kun.” She paused, before turning in her chair. “I’m using it right, right, Midoriya…-kun?” Tsunotori asked. “-kun is for friends, right?”

Midoriya paused, clearly deciding on whether to explain the nuances while Present Mic blabbed on about English. “More or less.”

She smiled, before huffing. “I know it’s just a thing here, but I miss calling people by their first names. Everyone sounds like my middle school teachers now!”

“Ooh, call me Mina-chan!” // “While we’re on it, call me Tsuyu-chan.”

“Wait, wait,” Minoru interrupted as Tsunotori smiled at the other girls in class. “You consider me a friend?”

Big blue eyes stared back at him. “Yes? Wait, is -kun for friends or not? Are you making me say dumb stuff?”

While Midoriya panicked at the accusation and began to assure her he wasn’t giving her wrong information, Minoru was left to reel from the revelation.~

 

Was it lame of him to already rethink things just because one girl actually considered him her friend?

And then there was also the bit during the semi-finals where he found out he really didn’t like seeing Tsunotori be so upset at being partly exposed to a large crowd. Or the fact he’d gotten a taste of being popular and in the spotlight, and it had left him shaking in his boots!

So did he still want to be a hero to get popular? Was it to get girls, or just a girl, to like him? Was there something else he wanted that he didn’t know of yet? Was it both? Neither? Did he have no idea anymore? Or had he even had any in the first place?!

“I thought I knew why I wanted to be a hero, but after the Festival I don’t know and now I’m kinda freaking out,” Minoru explained hastily, hoping that going fast would stop him from sounding dumb. “So I’m hoping you can help because you’re…not me?”

As in, the literal opposite of him.

…unless Best Jeanist was secretly a pervert; who knew what he was hiding under that ridiculously long collar? And if he was, that ain’t cool! At least be up front about being a pervert to everyone around you! Let people know what they’re getting into!

“…an interesting rationale,” Best Jeanist responded slowly. “Yes, and it dovetails with my reason for extending an offer to both of you, like a well-toothed zipper.”

“Both of your performances in the tournament rounds stood out to me,” he continued. “Despite your clear masteries and understanding of your own quirks, your performances have given the public a problematic view of the both of you, though very different in their nature and origin.” His hand pointed at Minoru. “You have made an impression to the world of being a pervert.”

“I am.”

Best Jeanist blinked at him, before continuing, moving his hand to Bakugō. “And you as a violent delinquent, one that has no place in heroics.”

“Did you just make me an offer to lecture at me?” Bakugō snapped, actually stepping forward to start a fight with-

Nearly invisible threads suddenly shot at him, winding around his limbs and constricting him.

“I have had too easy a time with youngsters recently,” Best Jeanist calmly continued, holding his threads in a scarily photogenic pose. “After the Festival, I’ve been looking forward to taking on much more difficult cases, like slipping on skinny jeans after a steamy shower.”

Minoru gulped. It sounded perfect for his troubles…and weirdly intimidating.

Best Jeanist observed him again, frowning. “Hm, but there seems to be something that has to be resolved first.”

What was it now?! Did he realize he didn’t have enough time to take on two ‘trouble interns’ at once? Was he gonna have them fight to the death to decide?! He didn’t want to die!

“I don’t think we have jeans your size,” Best Jeanist concluded, looking very troubled by it.

Huh?

 


 

It was a normal lunch break for Nemoto Shin, most trusted confidant of Overhaul-sama and right hand, leader of the Eight Bullets. And by normal, he meant being forced to use his quirk to resolve disputes between the useless grunts, always accusing each other of stealing their lunches from each other or hitting on a girl they like.

What a ridiculous use for a power as vital to operations as his!

The moment he’d been free of their nattering, he’d taken his lunch and headed off to his private quarters.

With the door closed behind him, he sagged. There, much better. Now to take off his mask and-

“Imperio.”

Irritation and hunger were replaced by the most wonderful feeling imaginable, rolling over him like a warm blanket that slowly dragged him down into an almost sleeplike trance.

“You know,” the same voice piped up behind him, through the highly pleasant fog, now casually strolling into view. “I don’t think that spell would’ve worked on anyone else, and before last week I wouldn’t have even thought to try.”

The tall man turned, smiling genially at him. “A quirk that controls people and makes them truthfully answer your questions, even acting as if they were doing it all of their own volition without realizing in the moment, and belonging to someone as vital to the organization as you seem to be? I really got lucky.”

And then the genial smile turned into a malicious smirk, toxic green eyes glinting right back at him as the man tipped his head up by the mask’s beak. “You’re going to tell me everything I want to know.”

There was nothing Nemoto Shin would rather do.

 


 

“This has been…a revelatory peek beneath the shadowy veneer of our nation’s hallowed summit so far.”

Pony paused in her eating as Tokoyami’s quirk burst out of him the instant he’d finished talking, disturbing him from his late evening dinner.

“Call it what it is, Fumi,” the distorted voice said, sounding both peeved and amused. “He’s not doing jack.”

She giggled at the stark contrast in speech.

‘Didn’t do jack’ was right when it came to first impressions of the number three hero. She hadn’t seen any clips of the man before, not beyond what Izuku had shown her when she came asking for advice on who to pick. He had completely fanboyed out at the high-ranked offer she showed him.

But based on the few clips she’d seen from the man interacting with journalists, she probably should’ve expected his attitude.

 

~“So,” Hawks began, seeming distracted with adjusting one of his many feathers. “You two follow me around during patrols this week. That’s how it goes, right? You’re my first interns.”

“Uh…” Tokoyami began.

“Okay, great!” Hawks clapped his hands together, smiling genially. “My afternoon rush hour patrol starts in ten. Meet at the entrance in costume!”

And he flew off, jumping out the window at the back of his office.~

 

The remainder of the day after arriving late in Fukuoka, and the whole of today, had been spent mostly with Hawks’ group of sidekicks, who were all relegated to taking villains and criminals Hawks had taken out into custody and processing the paperwork.

Pony had tried to follow the insanely fast number three hero- and wow, Izuku’s clips had undersold his speed- by trying to float up and fly on her horns, but actually flying up more than one floor had gotten her nervous, with a small case of jelly legs. At least today she’d gotten better at skating real fast near the ground?

Well, even if she wasn’t showing it like Tokoyami, the past day and a half had left her a bit frustrated.

“Maybe he’s like- uh, Mr. Miyagi,” she pointed out, catching Tokoyami’s attention.

“Like who?”

Oh, did they not know that over here?

“You know. Secretly a wise mentor with wise plans and hidden reasons behind what he does, but you have to figure it out yourself first.” The more she said it, the less sure she became.

“That’s a dumb teaching method.”

Tokoyami cringed. “Dark Shadow!”

“No, let’s just go and tell that dummy to give it to us straight!” Dark Shadow squawked, gleefully rising and attempting to make Tokoyami get up from his seat.

“Will you let me eat and rest in peace afterwards?”

“Sure thing!” the quirk chirped, and with a groan that sounded far more weighty than his verbose comments, he stood up and walked out.

For a moment, Pony wondered if she should join him, but then decided she cared more for food right now. Running- or in her case, skating around Fukuoka for an entire afternoon was super tiring, even without her having to actually move a muscle. At least the last two days had made her discover a new thing, holding herself up with her floating horns was tiring in the long run.

And then there was the need of thinking up a new costume. Her original thought for what she wanted to be had been something more fun and playful, but since deciding on picking the name Pegasus, she realized her costume wasn’t that fitting anymore. A few days hadn’t been enough to come up with anything new though, so for the internship she was still in her old one.

And also, this shade of orange didn’t actually look that good on her, since it kinda blended in with her skin tone and hair.

Should she have decided on her hero name before figuring out what a costume that matched it would look like? Like, should the main color be white? Because she wasn’t sure if that color suited her either. Maybe lightning bolt motives somewhere on the side? Pegasus was the carrier of lightning, and her detached horns on their own were bolt-shaped. That sounded good, but it was still just pretty vague, so should she really have…

Well, she’d always been one for charging headfirst into her decisions once she’d made them, so doubting wasn’t something she liked doing. Just look at her deciding to enter an exchange program and go to Japanese hero school, when she only had a basic grasp on Japanese.

Pony sagged in her seat. Now that got her thinking about her conversation with Izuku and Minoru last week. She’d glossed over a pretty big reason for why she’d decided to go here.

Oh, her main reason for coming here was absolutely true. She thought Japanese hero schools, or at least UA, and Japanese heroics as a whole was more fun and suited her more than the American brand.

The most obvious contrast was the difference in scale. The States were far larger than Japan, and most other countries. Because of it, while the general system was the same everywhere, each state had its own rankings and heroes, with specially trained heroes that operated on the national scale, along with highly ranked state-ranks that got promoted into national-ranks.

The two-tiered system was also why foreigners often got confused about whether Captain Celebrity or Star and Stripe was the highest ranked American hero. Star and Stripe was the number one national rank of the USA, while Captain Celebrity had been and still was rank number one in the state of New York, leading his own hero agency, which in the States was more of a worker’s union that employed pro heroes who wanted to work with or under other heroes exclusively. Since New York City was most often in international news though, with Captain Celebrity called ‘the number one hero’ there, it led to confusion abroad.

Wanting to work solely with or under other pros had to sound odd to other countries too. In Japan, heroics was a completely independent profession, even operating under its own government-adjacent supervisory commission. There was some connection between heroes and law enforcement, but it didn’t go much deeper, so the sentiment no doubt sounded redundant.

Meanwhile in the States, pro heroes were closely tied to the other government agencies and emergency services, more supplementary and integrated into them than a fully independent field. State-ranked heroes were made to work together with emergency services, depending on their quirk and skillset. So general ‘brawlers’ worked with police squads or SWAT teams, and support heroes could be found supporting police squads when needed, while in Japan they’d be right out solo on the streets themselves. Healers and healer-adjacent pros often worked with hospitals and ambulance crews, those resistant against or capable of manipulating fire worked with firefighters, and intelligence heroes assisted the FBI and the CIA, locally or nationally. That wasn’t to say many heroes in the States didn’t enjoy flashy encounters and patrolling the streets by themselves though, or establishing their own presence and merchandise.

The top-most national-ranked heroes even had army squadrons assigned to them, like Star and Stripe. Not that those were needed much abroad, thank God.

And hero education in the States reflected the differences. Hero courses were completely separate from general education, and the amount of college tracks specializing in the different classes of heroes far outnumbered any high school preparatory hero courses, though that’s where the hero prospects with the most ambition and skill went to. And there was especially an emphasis on specializing into a specific type of hero from the get-go.

And maybe she didn’t have any super solid reasoning, but Pony thought Japanese hero schools and the hero system just vibed more with her.

But as she’d said earlier, there was another, equally important motivation behind her choice to go to Japan, one that she sorta glossed over with Izuku and Minoru, just a bit too personal to share right now.

There was a reason she still went by her momma’s family name, albeit Japanified, and that daddy had already lived in Japan long before she came to live with him, and why she enjoyed anime and manga even if she only knew the basics of Japanese.

Pony Grabhorn had been an accident.

A very happy accident, but an accident nonetheless. Momma had never shied away from it when she’d first gotten ask-happy. When momma had been in college, there’d been a big dorm party after the end of the academic year, and momma had gotten very friendly over the year with the Japanese exchange student, who was heading back to his homeland to get a job and start a life after the summer.

Accidents happened, and momma only found out she had a bun in the oven after he had departed for Japan.

Pony had wondered why momma hadn’t told daddy about her at first, not until she’d been four years old, her quirk about to manifest, and momma’s old dorm mates had surprised her with a ‘five years later’ reunion party at the Grabhorn ranch, one for which they’d managed to pull daddy back out of Japan for.

When four-year-old her had stumbled in on her hooves, whining about a headache to momma before her horns suddenly rocketed up and embedded into the ceiling, it had been very obvious to daddy what was going on. After all, his quirk gave him a muzzle and horse-like legs like hers, with regenerating, shock-absorbing hooves he could shoot- or more accurately, launch himself from when standing.

Apparently there was another thing his quirk gave him, which left momma beet red and daddy chuckling upon being alluded to. That had been left a mystery to her, even if she had come to a mortifying conclusion by herself nowadays anyway.

But the reason why momma hadn’t told daddy at first quickly became obvious, because he offered to give up his job and home to stay in the States with them almost on the spot, and even when he’d been convinced to return to Japan and think it over first after many, many apologies and tears, he sent back a portion of his earnings every month anyway! And the Grabhorns weren’t exactly in dire need of money.

He was the nicest, kindest man on Earth! He was barely even upset he hadn’t been told, and moreso that he hadn’t been in contact with them for those years! Things did get a bit sad afterwards though, because it turned out daddy was having a lot of trouble trying to move out of Japan and get citizenship, and he didn’t want her and momma to relocate for his sake either, which was even more difficult to do.

So for the next twelve years of her life, she got to see daddy almost every day through video calls or short visits once or twice a year.

And it really was almost every day, around bedtime for her. He was a very dedicated man. It quickly became tradition for him to read her one of his manga volumes, translated on the spot. He never spoke in Japanese much, beyond when she asked him what a word was in Japanese, like ‘thank you’ and ‘good night’ and such. Eventually it also turned into him recommending and sending over anime for her to watch so they could talk about it later, some acquired less legally than others.

There was also the one time last year where he sent over the wrong file, and she accidentally was introduced to a very…specific type of anime.

Needless to say, the next time she went to the aquarium and saw an octopus, she was left pretty spooked.

So after twelve years of this and wanting more, she’d finally decided she wanted to spend the next three or more with daddy! After more than a year of needling him, along with telling him she liked the Japanese heroes more and wanted to ‘return to her roots’, all backed by momma’s enthusiastic support, he’d finally caved, and so here she was!

Her plan was to graduate, become a Japanese hero, see what being a hero here was like, and then decide later on if she wanted to stay or eventually go back to the States and go through a program to convert her license, with daddy in tow of course! But that was all for the future.

The sound of the door opening brought Pony back out of her thoughts.

“Hi, Tokoyami!” she greeted brightly. “How’d it go?”

Tokoyami shied away from her bright expression, but even before that he’d looked displeased.

“Hawks gave us offers just to know more about the USJ,” he admitted with a grumble, Dark Shadow rising up behind him.

“Can you believe he’s just doing us like that?” the bird-shaped shadow screeched, red tinted eyes in contrast with Tokoyami’s slumped shoulders.

He really had just made offers because he wanted insider information?

Pony actually felt a little pissed right now too.

Except why send out two offers? In case one offer was rejected?

She shook her head and huffed, stomping the floor with her hoof, before heading out, Tokoyami squawking as she pushed him out the way.

Well, whether it really was just that or he was playing around, Hawks was gonna find out why her great-great grandpappy had named himself Grabhorn, after the family’s now prized horns.

“You know where Hawks is?” she asked as she entered the communal lounge area of the agency, the gathering area for all the dorming.

“In his office,” one of the sidekicks answered, looking a little amused as she stomped off in that direction.

Yeah, other people thought the surname was weird or on the nose. But they just didn’t understand that it wasn’t an invitation or description.

She huffed again as she approached the door to Hawks’ office, hearing Tokoyami catching up to her, asking her what she was doing, and readied one of her hoofs. She had inherited daddy’s shock-absorption on ‘em after all.

No, the name was a threat. ‘Go on, grab a Grabhorn’s horns, see what happens to ya.’

With a loud slam she kicked the door open, strolling in while the duo of Tokoyami and Dark Shadow squawked and cheered respectively.

Sitting behind his desk at the large window, Hawks didn’t look too perturbed, sending her a friendly grin as he got out of his chair, wings unfurling casually.

Pony smiled back as she instantly launched her horns, hitting the tips of Hawks’ wings and embedding into the reinforced glass behind them with two soft cracking sounds.

“Hawks-san,” she said cheerfully as she ignored Tokoyami’s further mortified squawking. “Since you told us what ya wanted us for this internship, imma tell ya what I want from this week.”

The pro hero experimentally twitched his pinned wings, giving them a brief glance before staring her down.

“On my quirk registration it says I can only control four horns at once,” Pony happily continued. “But I can shoot out a lot more very quickly. I just have a lotta trouble focusing on controlling more than two pairs at a time, and you got a few hundred or thousand on ya. And I also figured out flying with my horns is gonna be a very important skill in mah future, but I’m not used to doing that yet. So since ya have the time to take us both on as interns, I want help with those.”

There was a brief moment where she wondered if charging in horns-first was finally gonna bite her back, but then Hawks’ indecipherable stare turned into a chuckle.

“Confident and assertive in the face of a superior, that’s gonna get you far, kiddo,” he complimented, the feathers on his wingtips detaching around the horns and reassembling as he casually freed his wings. “Don’t expect the rest of this week to be like today or yesterday if that’s what you want.”

Aha, he was like Mr. Miyagi!

…or he’d just decided this on the spot to look good.

Didn’t matter, both ways she was going to get what she wanted out of this.

“Charging ahead so boldly. You truly are a mare of the night,” Tokoyami muttered behind her.

“Hah, you hear that? He’s calling you a nightmare!”

“Dark Shadow!”

 


 

Interning under principal Nezu- or Mr. Principal on hero work- was…interesting.

-and exhausting.

 

~“So…uh, Nezu-san, what were you planning on showing me this week?” Izuku asked, feeling a bit intimidated as he took a small sip from his tea, sitting in the same seat he’d sat in when he’d been brought to the principal by Aizawa-sensei on his first day.

“Plenty of things, Midoriya-kun,” Nezu returned with a cryptic smile. “But let’s get the standard internship stuff done first, yes?”~

 

And in Nezu’s eyes ‘standard internship stuff’ meant getting him introduced to paperwork, so much paperwork! He was sure that, after two days and a bit, he now intimately knew every type of form a pro hero might ever have to fill in, and that included forms for temporary guardianship! How many pros would ever have to get acquainted with that kind of form?!

It was invaluable though, including the very thorough review of Hero Net. He might even know some functions that seasoned pros didn’t even know about! Not that he’d have any use for it until his provisional license, which was typically only done at the end of the first term in second year.

And in between all of that, Nezu had also shown him how some of his work as an intelligence hero was like.

Izuku was sixty percent sure the hypothetical case Nezu had asked him to ‘take a swing at’ was not hypothetical at all, or closed.

“Nezu-san,” he began, closing the big binder he’d been working on. “Are you also going to bring me on patrols?” That was the one part he thought a standard internship would cover, except- “Because I don’t think you really…do patrols.” Not with his other job. He couldn’t actually recall the principal doing any fieldwork, probably because he was an intelligence gathering hero.

“One moment,” Nezu said, holding up a paw as he picked up his phone, which had been silently flashing a light.

“Yes? …All the sudden paperwork? …Oh, no worries, it’s all official, I’m sure…And the warrant…Yes, if I know them, you should prepare your agency before this evening…I’m afraid I can’t enlighten you any further myself either, Sasaki-kun…I do think they will be too busy to arrange a meeting with you…Have a nice day.”

Nezu put the phone down, despite the muffled voice still talking on the other end, and cackled briefly.

“An excellent observation, Midoriya-kun,” Nezu suddenly complimented, putting his paws together and disregarding the odd conversation. “I do not do typical street patrols, no. Time doesn’t permit me.” He paused for a moment. “But you’re mistaken. I do have a regular patrol I perform.”

Izuku blinked. “Where?” He’d never been able to find any videos of the principal out on the streets for patrol.

Principal Nezu’s smile widened into a grin. “Well, that has to do with the plan I had in mind when I extended my offer.”

And suddenly, Izuku found himself listening at full attention, despite the boring morning so far.

Nezu hopped off his chair, tapping a button on the underside of his desk.

Izuku’s eyes widened as the floor behind him opened up, revealing a platform that looked ready to descend.

“Well, are you coming, Midoriya-kun?” Nezu asked, stepping on it. “You can change into costume on the way down.”

Of course he was ready to come!

 

 

 

Over the past hour, Izuku’s excitement had quickly been tempered by confusion. Sure, the surprise elevator in the principal’s office- and how had nobody else come across it on the floors below yet?- had been very exciting, but then its final destination turned out to be a small underground garage, where the principal had hopped into a car with a driver’s seat that had been modified for someone of his stature to drive.

And then…they’d started driving, almost an hour by now. Izuku was left…very confused.

“Alright, we’re here,” the principal suddenly announced, coming up to a parking lot and putting his car in park.

Izuku still couldn’t shake his confusion as he got out, scanning his surroundings. The parking spaces around the road were mostly empty, besides an insanely tall woman with a blue fox mutation sitting on a bench nearby, but…

Fujinomiya trail fifth station?

“Uh, Nezu-san?” he asked, glancing up at the mountain towering over them.

“Mr. Principal or Principal-san right now, Remnant-kun,” Nezu chided.

“Sorry, Principal-san,” he returned on instinct. Right, code names. “Where- uh…Hiking one of the trails of Mount Fuji was on my to-do list, but why are we here for the internship?” There was something odd about this specific location too, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Nezu cackled for a moment. “That’s for you to find out. Care to be my ride? We’ll arrive much quicker that way.”

“Uh…sure?” What did he-

And then the principal deftly climbed up his body, before coming to a stop on his head.

“That way, if you please,” he squeaked from up top. He was surprisingly light.

Izuku was a bit flabbergasted for a moment, but then shrugged and began walking down the road.

“I feel like I should be wearing some kind of hat you can fit under right now,” he commented as he walked down the road, past a few parked cars.

“Well, I heard the kind of uniform your current costume is based on has very pointy hats,” Nezu returned.

Oh, well, that was correct, actually.

Izuku suddenly felt a slight tug on his side, and he noticed a small dirt trail splitting off the road loop that surrounded Fujinomiya fifth station, heading into a forest that just barely managed to creep up the side of the mountain, before the slope got too steep and transitioned into just grass.

“Perhaps a short history lesson is in order while we head to our destination,” the principal suddenly spoke up as they moved away from the road and the main trail.

Given where he was currently perched, Izuku simply nodded.

“Well, as Potter-kun has no doubt told you before, my ancestry is magical in origin.”

Izuku stopped himself from nodding again before he threw his principal off on accident. “At least part jarvey, right?”

There was a sinister, mischievous chuckle. “Oh dearie me, I wonder how he found out.”

Given dad’s cryptic reaction upon being asked, Izuku decided he was better off not knowing.

“Then he must have also surmised that all quirked animals known to man are all instead magical in origin as well?”

Izuku hesitantly agreed.

“The rise of quirks significantly impacted magical humans, causing their near-full extinction over the course of a century and a half,” Nezu lectured. “But the impact of the transition from magic to quirks on magical animals shouldn’t be understated either. On the one hand, quirks were incapable of manifesting in animals, magical or otherwise, as animals are either magical or not, no ‘near-magic’ squibs for quirks to have originally manifested in like in humans. But the loss of the magical humans was felt strongly by magical creatures and the other magical races.”

Izuku nodded. Dad had tried to figure out what had happened to the other sapient magical races during his sleep. On their half year of travels around the globe, they had encountered some merfolk, who were simply pretending to be an offshore settlement of quirked humans that all shared fish mutations, along with a herd of centaurs in the Forbidden Forest, which had remained untouched by non-magical humans in all that time. Veela were no doubt pretending to have…very specific quirks, or bird-related ones, and goblins had simply gone underground, where they already had most of their belongings.

The only race they hadn’t seen hide nor hair from were the house elves.

“After all, as the population of magical humans dwindled, the protections they’d set in place began to degrade and disappear along with them,” Nezu continued. “Thankfully, by the time the first magical creatures and beings started being discovered by non-magicals, quirks were already established enough for them to be miscategorized as either quirked people or quirked animals. Sadly, given that the mistakenly quirked animals were, well, animals, scientists and soon breeders started experimenting with them.”

A gasp escaped him. It was almost obvious, yet…

“Yes, I may not be very talkative about my past to the public, but I was the end product of a line of experiments done on jarveys, under the assumption that a ‘quirked ferret’ with the ability to vocalize words could be bred into sapience.”

Izuku grimaced, keeping the ‘and it worked’ locked tight behind his lips.

“This mostly started happening in Europe and mainland Asia, and when the last generation of magical humans began dying, things only accelerated.” Nezu shifted in his hair. “The Japanese Ministry of Magic had anticipated this outcome, however, and sought to prevent something similar from happening in Japan. The local magical fauna of the time was unique amongst the magical world, I’ve heard, and they wished for it to be preserved beyond their time.”

“That sounds…Why tell me this?”

“Well, that’s- Ah, it seem we have arrived.”

Izuku came to a stop, not wishing to feel his hair pulled again. They’d come to a sharp increase in elevation; the vegetation stopped almost completely above the incline. But there didn’t seem to be anything.

He heard a chuckle come from above.

“Remnant-kun, I’d like to welcome you to the reason for this internship. The magical reserve of Japan is built around the wellspring within Mount Fuji.”

A wave of ripples passed through him, and suddenly a portion of wall Izuku hadn’t registered, hadn’t been able to register, became plain as day.

“That’s-” He cut himself off, staring at the torii gate intricately carved into the stone, along with two carved eastern dragons guarding an open staircase that descended into the mountain, torches lighting the way. “A Fidelius?”

What was- What was down there? ‘Magical reserve’? What did that entail?

“Ah yes, Potter-kun has employed one himself, hasn’t he?” Nezu commented casually, before lightly tugging at his hair. “Come now, this descent takes a little while.”

“Now, as for where I left off,” Nezu continued as Izuku descended the staircase. “The last functioning magical Ministry of Japan decided something had to be done for the magical flora and fauna they were going to leave behind unprotected. There were already reports from the other magical races that the sharp decline in magical humans was affecting their magical abilities, like the stargazing of the centaurs, the water traversal of the merfolk, and the fire summoning abilities of the Veela. Somehow, the sharp local agitation of spell casting that magical humans were capable of was a vital component of keeping this kind of active magic usable in magical species.”

Dad had said something similar to that, except that had been for just wards and other enchantments, along with long-acting potions. It extended to magical species too?

“With this information in hand, the last witches and wizards of Japan decided to construct a reserve around the one place that could sustain wards and magical abilities after they were gone, protected by a modified Fidelius, where anyone who knows the Secret can share it, but only on the boundary, and only those with no malintent can hear it”

“A Nexus,” Izuku realized, finally remembering why Mount Fuji had felt familiar. Dad had listed it off as one of seven places around the world.

“Also known as a magical wellspring, one of the beating hearts of global magic,” Nezu clarified. “And we thank them for their kindness and forethought to this day.”

And it was right as the lecture finished up that Izuku came to the end of the staircase, another gate carved at the bottom, this time golden, and as he passed it-

“Holy whoa!”

‘Magical reserve’ was doing the place a disservice. More like magical paradise! It was like he’d passed through a boundary to another world and had hit a wall of magic. If meeting dad hadn’t originally agitated his own magical ability into waking up, entering this place absolutely would have.

It was absolutely massive. As if it was just barely fitting in the inside of the huge mountain. It stretched up high above and even further below, with massive trees filling the space. At the center, connected by a stone bridge the stairs had led onto, stood a…well, it was as if someone had isolated a channel from the magma chamber below that made Mount Fuji a dormant volcano, vanished the rock around it, and then encased it in some kind of translucent material, making it appear as if the column was standing up unsupported in the air, besides the staircase that went up and down, spiraling around it.

From the looks of it, it was also the main source of light and warmth in the underground cityscape of a cavern, possibly enhanced by its magical casing. It emanated a light that pulsed in luminosity as the hot liquid pulsed upwards, before it hit the very top, which was just barely visible if Izuku craned his neck, where it spread outwards and came back down in channels decorating the ceiling and sloped sides. It kind of made it look like a magical glowing tree.

On even further thought, it seemed whatever magic the last Japanese magicals had set up to give this place its lighting and heating was preventing Mount Fuji from ever erupting again. Given how much Tokyo and the cities around the dormant volcano had grown in the many centuries since last time, that was very much a good thing.

He hadn’t even looked at his surroundings properly, and already he could see several very much magical birds flying around, some which looked like giant storm petrels. Down below, a pack of animals dad had once described as mooncalves roamed across a grassland, bordered by a jungle on one side and an ocean-like lake on the other. It was like he’d found himself in some sort of old world lost underground

“Yes, it is a sight to behold,” the softly spoken voice from up top reminded him of his passenger.

“Oh, sorry.” Izuku felt his cheeks heat up. “How long was I staring?”

“Not long enough to offset the time we made up for by you carrying me,” Nezu assured him. “Now-”

A squeak from behind alerted him to someone else being privy to this sight.

Standing on the bottom step of the staircase, beyond the golden torii gate, stood- Whoa, he’d seen that woman less than an hour ago!

“Ah, hello Miss,” Nezu piped up from above. “Don’t be afraid, I am simply showing my intern part of his heritage.”

The tall, insanely tall woman with what he’d thought was a blue fox mutation quirk gave a soundless nod, before hesitantly stepping through the gate.

Her body shuddered, like she was experiencing the same intense feeling he’d experienced. And then behind her, the air shimmered for a moment, before a flash of rushing magic conjured three blue, very fluffy fox tails into existence.

Kitsune?!

“One of many magical beings unique to Japan,” Nezu happily informed him as he gaped. “Though bereft of magical powers outside of here.” The woman, a kitsune, looked fearful, tails whipping restlessly.

“Oh, I’m- I’m sorry for scaring you, ma’am,” Izuku said, now realizing he’d blurted that out. “I’m not- uh, I’m a wizard.” It felt weird to admit that to someone he didn’t know.

The woman- magical being stared down at him, before gasping.

“You’re that boy from the UA Sports Festival?”

Right…after that he was going to get recognized by basically anyone. So far, he’d mostly moved between home and school by portkey or apparition, which he was slowly getting faster and more confident at in relaxed circumstances, meaning he’d probably ditch dad’s portkeys altogether soon, so he hadn’t encountered many strangers so far.

“I am.”

She nodded, her nervous expression turning into a small smile.

“So it’s true, Nezu-sama? Is- Is that Shinigami a wizard too?” she asked Izuku’s hair- No, Nezu.

“He certainly is, ma’am,” Nezu confirmed. “Why, if you were close to UA during the Festival, his fight against All Might may have even caused some…unfortunate flare-ups?”

What was he- Ah! Tails appearing and disappearing out of nowhere in public had to be unfortunate.

“He’s family,” Izuku added, hoping it would calm the woman a bit.

“Oh, that’s- I almost can’t believe it. I never thought I’d meet one of you,” she said to herself, staring down at him. Was it ironic, for a creature you had thought didn’t actually exist before to treat you as one on your first encounter?

“Well, we all have things I’m sure we came here for to do,” Nezu piped up again, breaking the silence. “Let us not keep you any longer.”

The woman jolted, finally realizing she was staring, and squeaked out an apology, before hurriedly jumping off the bridge and floating down to the ground far below, her tails twirling.

“…is that what being around people is like for you, Nezu-san?”

“Mr. Principal or Principal-san,” Nezu corrected. “And yes. Now, we have places I want us to visit today. I think you understand now, Remnant-kun, but where Potter-kun has shown you the magical world of the past, my reason for extending an offer is to show you the magical world of the present.”

Izuku felt another tug at his hair, urging him to continue walking. He still wasn’t entirely sure what him being a magical hero meant to him, or what his place was among the remnants of the magical world, but maybe…

He headed for the central stairs with a jitter in his step.

Maybe this place would be the key to figuring it out!

 


 

It was a normal Wednesday evening in Osaka, Asahi Ward.

Across the street, staring down the iron gate protecting the traditional residence, a hooded figure appeared.

Oh, he’d been in the area for a while now. Barring the delivery of some pending arrest warrants and several folders of evidence to the nearest agency, stealthily collected over the past two and a bit days, Harry had been lurking around the stronghold, mapping everything for himself and gathering said evidence, copying important files and documents and camera footage. In that time he’d gotten a good grip on the daily rituals, schedules, and quirks of the important members. The Eight Expendable Bullets, the director Mimic, the personal aide Chronostasis, and the boss Overhaul.

That was also how he knew this was the perfect time to begin the final push. No bystanders present outside, eating or preparing dinner at their homes, and all the important members were at the complex, and the underground part too, save for Katsukame due to his unwieldy size, while Overhaul and Chronostasis were off in the…collection room, preparing for another session tonight, one that would not be happening again. Much to his surprise, that room was as far removed from his target, Eri’s room, as possible, and the route between the two would meet up and merge with his approach near the end. A dark part of himself wondered if it was just to make the walk before the…collection more dread inducing for Eri.

Of course, during his time spent non-existent to reality, he’d been setting up a few surprises in the parts of the complex that led to secret exits. Nobody important was going to be escaping without him knowing about it.

The only caveat to his plan was that he knew none of the identities of the triad at the top, just those of the Eight Bullets. Mimic, Chronostasis, and Overhaul himself only ever went by their quirk’s name, even on private documents. There was a possibility he could search for their identifiable quirks on the quirk registry, but that would take too much waiting time and paperwork to accomplish when it wasn’t necessary.

After all, even if any of them somehow managed to escape with Eri, he would just scry for her again and track where they were headed, with all their assets lost and little to no heads-up.

It had been tearing at his heart from the moment that trembling little girl had first appeared before him, staring up at him in a display of distrust, fear, and despondency. Been tearing at him every single day for the past four weeks. Days where he could do almost nothing to help her except provide her a temporary sanctuary, days where he kept being reminded of his own childhood, which looked like a cakewalk in comparison now. Today it was going to end, no matter what they tried to pull on him.

With his resolve steadied, Harry glared at the innocuous gate before him, and pulled his Wand from its holster.

Tonight, the Shinigami was paying the Shie Hassaikai a visit.

At 18:53, as the sun touched the horizon, the sound of a loud gong rung through a deserted street in Asahi Ward, Osaka, the main gates rattling in their hinges.

A scant few moments later, people started to hesitantly walk out of the building, no doubt to check out the noise.

Someone who’d been lounging on an upper floor and had opened a window was met with an intimidating sight. A cloaked figure they’d seen on television was watching out of the shadows cast by the setting sun, silently staring from across the street.

“H-Hey!” said particularly brave grunt shouted, voice carrying through the courtyard. “What’s a pro hero doing here, hm? Ya got a warrant? We’re just workin’ here!”

Despite their face being shadowed, the grunt knew exactly when the figure’s attention moved to them, the hood shifting up and the void within facing them. A moment later, a crow descended out of nowhere and landed on the windowsill, its beak holding a writ of paper as its eerie white eyes stared back, waiting. It was accompanied by the rest of its flock silently descending into the courtyard below, all presenting an official arrest warrant for ‘the Shie Hassaikai.’

Disbelieving silence reigned the courtyard for three seconds. If the grunts had been smart enough, they would’ve recognized it for what it was.

The main gates exploded, flinging off their hinges and hurling into the Japanese style garden.

Once more the grunts were left frozen in shock, witnessing the cloaked figure most knew as the recently televised Shinigami appear in the dust cloud as he slowly approached them.

“W-What are you waiting for?!” the brave grunt upstairs shouted. “Get him! And warn Overhaul!”

Finally, the silence was broken as the grunts already in the courtyard charged, bellowing war cries as they readied their quirks and came flooding out.

Shinigami deftly raised his Wand. And much unlike the smooth motion, the Japanese garden was ruined as two rocky walls shot up from the sides, carving a straight route from the ruined gate to the compound’s main entrance.

Some of the grunts stumbled in their run, eyes drifting to the side, but then things got worse for them when a third wall rose up before them, separating them from Shinigami.

And then said wall began rapidly moving right for them, as if to sweep them away, accelerating until it covered the entirety of the makeshift hallway and slammed into the main entrance, throwing the caught-up grunts right back where they came from.

Shinigami simply kept up his walk, moving through the now cleared path. A few brave grunts caught beyond the walls had managed to climb up, but were only met by a focused gust of wind blowing them right back down.

“Alright, what’s going on?” a loud voice rumbled from behind the cracked third wall blocking the main entrance, which promptly exploded.

Smashing through came the hulking figure of Katsukame, whose eyes instantly narrowed in on Shinigami from behind his mask.

“I’ll crush you to paste!” the Eight Bullet shouted, charging forward.

A swish of his Wand, and Katsukame quickly lost his footing as the traitorous tiled path had turned to a mud pit, the hulking man falling into it like someone who’d convinced themselves the ice on the lake was thick enough to support them.

The mud returned to dirt, and then to rock and bedrock the next moment, not allowing Katsukame to resurface beyond his masked face.

By now, Shinigami had closed the distance, and casually stepped on and over Katsukame’s face, keeping up his stroll to the main entrance.

One Bullet spent.

Once inside, Shinigami quickly locked all doors unimportant to his goal. Grunts were useless to detain at the moment.

A shame he had no time to stop and admire things; it looked quite nice in here. Just another polish to hide the turd below, it seemed.

His stop was at an innocuous alcove in the hallway, occupied by a single potted plant, something very recognizable since scrying that one mook.

He waved the plant and the mat it stood on aside, staring down at the planks below.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Harry couldn’t help but grin as he pressed the planks down in the remembered order, watching the wall of the alcove whirr and click before opening up.

Like coming home.

Shinigami casually threw a gale of wind down the newly revealed staircase, bowling over any grunts who’d been hiding behind the trick wall.

And down the stairs he went. Still no signs from the magic he’d set up that anyone was heading for any of the exits.

When the bottom of the stairs became visible, Harry suddenly stumbled from a wave of wooziness hitting him mid-step, just barely managing to stick his hand to the wall to stop himself from tumbling down.

“Careful, careful,” someone slurred down below. “Don’t wanna get caught drunk on the job, heheheh.”

Harry scoffed as he unstuck his hand. He’d felt worse whenever thoughts had gotten the best of him and he drank himself into a brief coma. He’d always regretted it afterwards, if not for the new and crazy hangover cures Luna wanted to test on him when he awoke, always with a smile and a half day of her sitting next to his bed.

The ancient past was pushed aside for the present, and Shinigami twitched his Wand as Sakaki went in for another gulp.

Sakaki’s giggling devolved into a choke as he gulped down the newly transfigured pickle juice. He should be thankful for the help. Pickle juice was a great hangover cure Harry had picked up in Russia from his time curse breaking and going on expeditions.

Overwhelmed, he couldn’t defend himself when Shinigami came flying down the stairs, slamming into him feet first and knocking him down to the ground.

Shinigami brushed himself and the dizziness off with a finite and walked past him, Sasaki’s vest shifting and morphing into a straitjacket.

Two Bullets spent.

He briefly glanced down the corridor, before picking the direction he remembered was correct.

Enough time had probably passed for all the important members down here to have been alerted to the assault and prepare something, and Harry hoped that their most logical option was to send out not another Bullet to hinder him, but instead-

Suddenly, the concrete below buzzed with quirked magic, and Harry couldn’t help but grin under his hood as the corridor began to warp.

Perfect timing.

Shinigami held out his Wand, and with a tremendous yank he pulled it back.

Abruptly, the wobbling corridor froze mid-morph, the overextended, probably enhanced quirked magic unable to overcome the harsh pull, except for where it was close enough to the body possessing the concrete.

Shinigami looked up at a section of ceiling ahead, which continued to morph for another moment. And only another moment it got, because with another swish an entire block of concrete around it vanished from existence, leaving a blob the size of a large man floating mid-air before gravity took over.

Midfall it was hit by a luminous orange light, violently ripping apart.

Rubble hit the ground instead, and the sudden decrease in volume forced the surprisingly large man out of hiding. He too was too dazed in that moment to stop Shinigami appearing before him, a magically hardened hand chopping him in the neck.

Harry quietly breathed out as Mimic slumped to the ground, quickly making sure he wasn’t faking it. Without direct magic able to affect anyone, this was one of the only people he had to make sure he knocked out, as he couldn’t be restrained through transfiguration. And he didn’t think his other readily available solution would jibe well with the Trigger that had to be running through the man’s system for another couple minutes.

Witches and wizards of his time had all considered transfiguration as something only the most powerful, skilled, and confident could use properly in a fight, reserved for the likes of Dumbledore, Voldemort, and McGonagall, a liability to anyone lesser but a tremendous boon to those who mastered it.

After a completed mastery under Minerva followed by well over a century of continued practice, Harry comfortably fell in that category, and in a world of quirked people it truly was his most important asset in a fight.

And now with Mimic out of the running for the next little while, nobody he happened to trap within concrete could be pulled out while he was busy elsewhere.

No need to stall and wait to be approached by him anymore.

With a grin, Shinigami twisted to the end of the hallway, peering through the corridor and then twisting to the next corner.

As he twisted into one of two rooms on his way to Eri, the Wand suddenly disappeared from his grip.

“Ooh, what’s this?” a voice piped up as Shinigami jumped out of the way of a crystal-coated fist that dented the floor.

“I’ve only ever needed the stick, hm?” Setsuno mocked as he waved the Wand around. “Great to know. Hey Tabe, how about a little-”

He was in for a surprise when the Wand ripped itself out of his grasp, returning to Shinigami’s hand as he dodged a lunging bite from Tabe.

While direct magic didn’t work, a wandless disarming charm more than did the trick on whatever someone was holding, and even if Setsuno’s quirked magic closely resembled a summoning charm, that didn’t matter much in the face of the Wand jumping to return to its one true Master at the slightest order, like an overeager Pyrenees who thought it was still a puppy.

In the brief moment of shock, the rip in Tabe’s burlap sack mask knitted itself shut, the man letting out muffled yells as he found himself in a stumble, and in the next moment Setsuno found his dress shirt twisting into a straitjacket, forcing his arms inward.

Shinigami dodged and swished again, and Hojo’s next assault slammed into fluid concrete, the man pulling himself down and sinking down to the neck before it solidified. Woulda known about that trick if they had proper communication skills.

Right on time, a loud ripping sound was heard as Tabe ate his mask with his quirk.

Shinigami twisted a few feet down into the corridor adjacent to the room and swung his Wand up, a section of floor slamming up to turn the doorway into a wall.

A moment later and a portion of the wall simply vanished with a loud chomp, Tabe, now mostly maskless, snarling and growling behind it as he jumped through.

In that moment, the hole he’d eaten for himself twitched and shut in on him, trapping him and pinning his arms to his waist.

Shinigami stared at the horizontally trapped man for a moment, one of the people of interest when it came to subduing, watching him growl and try to reach the wall keeping him stuck, well out of his mouth’s reach, and turned on the balls of his feet, twisting further down the corridor.

Five Bullets spent.

Not much left now.

Another hallway behind him, and another. Not much left before his destination. One more, and then-

“There he is! Wow, he’s quick!”

Though it was left unseen by anyone but himself, Harry quirked an eyebrow at the overly enthusiastic shout. Yes, there was no confusing his current opponent.

“Don’t be so hasty, he has already slipped past or beaten the others in such short a time. We must be ready to react and stop him from reaching Overhaul.”

Correction, there was no confusing his current opponents.

Further down the hall, surrounded by a golden barrier that blocked easy traversal, stood two figures, one still and lanky, the other burly and almost hopping on his feet. This quirk reminded him the most of the old wards he loved to study. How fun.

Well, if they wished to stand back…

Shinigami slowly stalked over, cloak rustling in an unseen breeze behind him.

“Aw, c’mon, say something!” the burly one, Rappa, said, rolling his shoulders. Harry didn’t even think it was meant as a taunt, not after his time observing them all.

Under his hood, Harry delighted to seeing the stoic monk-like Tengai tense up as he approached, one echoing step after the next. He had no pings yet from his other magics; he had time.

“Do not fall for this taunt. We are safe behind the barrier,” Tengai announced, mostly to himself.

When Shinigami finally closed the distance, not having done anything else, the two protected Bullets changed to battle-ready positions.

Though the hood was already up, Harry only now activated the Cloak.

From his opponents’ perspectives, Shinigami flickered out of existence one step before the barrier, disappearing for a mere second, before reappearing mid-step on the other side, simply having walked through.

Once more making use of the temporary shock, Shinigami lunged for Tengai, throwing a twisting uppercut at him as he planted his feet between the duo.

Feeling the shift of wind from behind, Shinigami apparated a foot forward, Rappa’s reflexively fired-up fists slamming into Tengai instead.

The golden barrier shattered as Tengai was launched into the wall, cratering it, and Rappa was left to process the events and his mistake after. Shinigami was already walking away, continuing his stalk down the hallway.

Rappa took a step towards him, and Shinigami stopped in his tracks, the echoing footsteps fading.

“Do you know what the Shie Hassaikai does or stands for?” Shinigami asked in a low voice, speaking up for the first time since he began his long approach. His hood shifted to look back over his shoulder.

“Not a clue! I’m just here because I want to fight and beat the strongest I’ve met!” Rappa announced confidently, the crumpled up figure of Tengai, whose yukata was twisting up into a straitjacket, already pushed out of his mind.

“There won’t be any strength left here after I’m done,” Shinigami announced, almost daring him to step forward again. “Turn around, don’t interfere on your way out, and you’ll continue to have the opportunity to fight.”

Rappa stayed in place, possibly reexperiencing whatever had brought him into the Shie Hassaikai in the first place.

“After all,” Shinigami continued with a joking lilt, before shrugging. “You won’t find any fights from a jail cell.”

And so his hood faced away again, and the echoing steps returned as he walked off.

In truth, Harry had figured trying to fight Rappa would take up too much time. While he could put others in straitjackets or dump them in a hardening pit of fluid, Rappa’s quirk was in the magically generated rotation of his flexible shoulders. Even in a complete standstill he could get them to move, and at great force too with enough build-up. Straitjackets and solid concrete surrounding him wouldn’t keep him subdued for long. That, and a man like that would no doubt get back up from being knocked out soon, through adrenaline and determination alone.

Besides, this seemed like the only higher up who had absolutely no idea of what was happening and wasn’t complicit in anything beyond regular gang-on-gang violence. That granted him a small mercy.

Only a small one though, and if he decided to start the fight up again…

“I better get to fight you forreal!” the man shouted after him, his voice underlined with a manic hint of the battle crazy that no doubt drove him.

Shinigami raised his Wand as he continued his walk, no magic coming from it, and twisted from view to the next corridor, continuing his fast approach.

Seven Bullets spent.

Entering a large room, cleared out recently and originally meant as deep storage from his previous explorations, Harry realized why the duo of Rappa and Tengai had been sent out, with the latter mentioning the vitality of their job.

On the other end of the room, near one of the corridors, the one that led to Eri’s room, three people were heading out, the cargo originally in this room no doubt just about sent ahead.

With a swish, several feet of wall rose up to close off the corridor, bringing the trio of masked figures to a halt as they finally registered the echoing steps approaching them.

As they turned, Shinigami took a few more steps into the hall, the corridor behind him sealing up like the others, and finally came to a stop.

The Shinigami had reached the end of his walk at 18:56, the last of the sun dipping below the horizon.

Of course, Overhaul could easily remove any barrier in his way and head on out, trusting in his subordinates, but that would also mean isolating himself from them.

There was reasonably only one thing left he could do.

As he ordered his two subordinates to move, his surgical glove shredding in his hand as he slammed it down on the concrete floor, Shinigami stayed still.

Spikes erupted out of the ground surrounding him, the sharp tips aimed straight at him.

With a jerk of his Wand, the spikes came to an abrupt stop inches away from him.

Well, even if Chronostasis had wanted to attack from the side, now there were spikes in the way, weren’t there?

Shinigami silently leaned forward, reaching out for the spike that had been heading for his face, flicking the tip with his fingers. It flicked back with a boing, concrete turned to rubber with an unseen twitch of his Wand.

If there was anything he wanted to make clear to Overhaul, it was that he hadn’t stood a chance to begin with.

The taunt over with, the elastic sound still echoing through the room, Shinigami lowered his Wand, the spikes instantly flattening back into the floor as he straightened back up, unseen eyes staring straight at Overhaul, as if to announce ‘my turn.’

On his side, Chronostasis’ hood fluttered as he readied his quirk, but there was little point.

Shinigami swept his Wand in an arc across the floor, and from then on it was his playground.

From his feet, the ground split open, three crevices rapidly forming between the three diverging opponents. At the same time the ground under him shot up, forming a pillar.

Arrow-headed hair shot up at him from the side. Below, de- and reconstructing concrete assaulted the magic of his transfigured pillar.

Harry scowled under his hood as he dodged the arrow into a crouch. Really, this man had a large chunk of the entire field of transfiguration as his quirk, albeit he probably couldn’t convert one material to another or out of nothing, and spikes was the best he could think of?

He shook his head. Just another thing he could angry over once this was done.

And done it would be very soon.

With a wave of his Wand, the large pillar became segmented, disks of concrete shooting out and at his opponents in wild trajectories, forcing them to take their attention of him.

Unnoticed, Shinigami disappeared from the floating top of the pillar and reappeared down below in the midst of the chaos.

No, while it seemed like it was shaping up to be one, Overhaul would not be getting a satisfying fight here. He would not be beaten through overwhelming force, not even Harry’s magic would deliver the real final blow.

As the last of the disks smashed into the ground or were broken apart by Overhaul’s quirk, Shinigami resumed his walk forward. Soon…

A swishing noise caught his attention, the direction absurd enough to give him pause for enough time to-

From an unseen crevice below him, an arrow-shaped lock of white hair shot out, slicing him at the forearm.

Immediately, a wave of buzz passed through him, and his step slowed down to a crawl.

Overhaul had created a channel from Chronostasis to right under him for the hair to travel through?

Oh no.

Of course, with his opponent too slow to react to anything, Overhaul should’ve finished things off, even if it really wouldn’t do much for him beyond make a gory mess on the metaphorical carpeting.

But after his information gathering, he knew Overhaul thought quirks were a disease, and more specifically, that his own appearance on live television had made him believe his power was the next stage of said disease, something that had to be studied, and with the gun Nemoto was holding nearby…

Instead, concrete rose up to encompass his lower half, barely scratching him, and Harry could see from the way his cheeks stretched around the mask that Overhaul was grinning wildly.

“Nemoto,” his voice was audibly filled with glee as he gave the order. “Shoot them.”

As the last Bullet standing raised his gun, a revolver, a slow, ominous chuckling filled the cavernous space.

That’s right, he’d been miscounting this from the start, hadn’t he?

For a moment, Overhaul and his aide were too caught up in wondering what the chilling sound was meant for to notice.

“Yes…Nemoto…” Shinigami spoke up in a deep, slow voice, a mocking lilt to it as the void under the hood stared back at Overhaul.

“…shoot them.”

Eight Bullets were already spent.

Two gunshots filled the room.

Though he was currently still too slow to turn his head, watching the slow realization play out in Overhaul’s eyes as he stared at his side, where a bullet retracted its needle from his arm with a shnk, dropping to the ground, and then moved to Chronostasis, who’d tried to shield himself instinctively last minute with his arms, and finally to the self-proclaimed right hand and leader of the Eight Bullets, the smoking gun still aimed in their direction.

Betrayed and taken out by your own weapon and utterly devoted underling, right on what had looked like the verge of total victory pulled from a near defeat.

And how interesting it was to his senses, to feel a buzz of magic overtake their own, making it vanish from existence and leaving their body’s stockpile empty. And no doubt leaving the body’s ability to refill the stockpile damaged as well, needing up to a day to repair itself.

With a chuckle, Harry slowly twisted his hand to himself. For anyone else, there was nothing they could do to a quirk like this one, remaining incapacitated in severe slowness for minutes or hours.

To him, a simple wandless finite was enough to dispel the foreign lingering magic, not close enough to its owner’s body or will to put up a fight.

The concrete engulfing his lower half lowered with a swish of his Wand, while simultaneously similar cones of concrete rose up to engulf those of his opponents.

Resuming as if nothing had happened, Shinigami continued taking his last steps to Overhaul to-

 

BANG

 

Harry blinked as a third shot went off, a small pinch on his shoulder followed by another wave of buzzing overcoming him.

How curious.

His focus drifted to Nemoto, who had turned his gun to him.

To see someone so devoted to someone else that the thought of having harmed them allowed them to fight back against the Imperius.

Shinigami moved his free hand to the bullet sticking to his shoulder, and flicked it away.

For Izuku, getting hit by that would no doubt wipe him of the magic stockpiled inside his magical core, and whether it’d affect his ability to refill said core for a time was unable to be determined.

But Harry didn’t have a magical core, or anything in his biology that allowed him to channel magic into his Wand, so this was nothing more than a fuzzy mosquito bite to him.

With a disarming charm he snatched the flying revolver mid-air, returning the favor with a fourth gunshot at the resisting man.

Now, eight Bullets were truly spent.

Next, he sent two stunners, spelling Overhaul’s right hand and personal aide unconscious, the first time a stunner of his finally worked in this quirked world. He then summoned their masks for later use, ripping them off their faces, and erased a particular tidbit of information that would be inconvenient for them to keep. Lastly he twisted their clothes into straitjackets, which he then bespelled as portkeys, sending the temporarily quirkless men off to the nearest hero agency capable of housing them.

Poor Sir Nighteye, whoever that was, was in for a busy night.

Of course, Overhaul was remaining awake and stuck in this room for a little while longer, though a soundless silencing charm prevented him from saying anything, though he looked like he dearly wished to rant.

Shinigami raised his Wand, and with a flick he lowered the walls blocking the exits, before wordlessly summoning the ‘quirk suppressing bullets’.

A couple seconds passed, and then numerous crates began flying in through the corridor behind Overhaul, hastily organizing themselves in the positions he’d seen them in when he’d strolled through here yesterday and the day before. No doubt the unfortunate mook tasked with driving out the crates was very confused right now.

Shinigami turned away from the fuming Overhaul, and waved one of the crates open, a small collection of bullets floating over to him. He vanished the revolver, the two unspent bullets floating to join their brethren, and Shinigami turned his head to announce to Overhaul, “I’ll come to you in a minute.”

Next, Shinigami twisted away, appearing in the hallway he’d taken Mimic out in.

A quick glance made him sigh in relief, in the past few minutes the man hadn’t regained consciousness.

Quickly, Harry jammed a bullet into his neck, needle first, and felt the wave of magic engulf and vanish his quirk. A stunner was sent to ensure compliance, there sadly was no mask to summon in this case, one tap to his head to erase the same bit of knowledge as before, and his shirt turned into a straitjacket and portkey that sent him spinning away to its destination.

He was actually pretty certain a quirked person could use and survive a portkey, unlike apparition, but he hadn’t wanted to test that out either, nor had he had the time on his charge.

For the next minute, Shinigami popped around the base, taking care of the remaining Bullets, gathering their masks, erasing the same bit of knowledge, and sending them off safe and mostly sound into detainment.

Shinigami returned to the room in the basement with a jitter in his body.

“So useful, these,” he commented glibly, gesturing at the crates. He’d already nicked two the day before and sent them to Nighteye’s agency along with the other evidence he’d gathered, but the rest really should be stored somewhere safe after this.

“Also means I don’t have to ask you any questions,” he continued, stepping up until his shadowed eyes were inches away from Overhaul’s.

With nothing to prevent him from heading in now, Harry used Legilimency and dove into those golden eyes.

Mhm, Chisaki Kai, good to know.

A mindless devotion to the Shie Hassaikai and its former leader, delusional enough to harm the man he claimed he wanted to help, and ruin everything he and his organization stood for.

Bad start, Chisaki.

The temporary bullets, the suppressing ones, the…sessions in the chair, discovering Eri’s quirk originally. The quirk manifestation with her biological father and the abandonment. Rewind, hm, and-

Oh, a single permanent one? He’d have to get that one immediately. Nemoto hadn’t known of that one yet. So much for ‘most trusted confidant.’ No. Better to focus on productive things than muddle his focus with emotion right now.

A strong hatred for quirks and ‘the disease’ he envisioned them as. Rats, hm? Too bad, it was squibs and their descendants you should’ve looked at, but you didn’t exactly know that, now did you?

And of course the motivation behind it, making quirks meaningless with the ability to have them permanently removed at any point.

Ah, but that was a mostly nebulous end goal, one with little plan behind it so far. No, the established plan was what he’d already gathered from Nemoto.

They’d been planning to start distributing the temporary quirk suppressor bullets through their networks, as samples, and after refining the process of creating the permanent one, and then an as-of-yet nonexistent serum to bring it back- Ooh, goes very counter to your big vision there, bud- he’d set up a market where people could only buy ways to remove and restore quirks through him, a full monopoly with only the Shie Hassaikai having access to-

And then his thoughts came crashing to a halt as he stumbled on another foreign thought, another plan for the future.

Despite his best efforts, through pure shock alone, Harry was overcome with a barrage of emotions, more intense and all-encompassing than he’d ever experienced.

The sudden jolt brought him back to the real world, still staring into those golden eyes as they trembled in pain from the forceful rip out of his mind.

Harry had to grip his wand arm with his free hand, wrenching himself away from Overhaul before he vanished him from existence instead of anything more worthwhile.

Overhaul wouldn’t catch any of it, not beyond the sudden increase in pressure in the room, too busy thrashing from the sudden piercing headache, but Harry was struggling not to lash out like a feral animal.

Somehow, despite having bared witness to what that man had done to Eri, to the state she was in, despite already knowing what his general plans were from Nemoto, despite having prepared himself for the callousness and sheer psychopathy he was sure to encounter in that mind.

Despite all of that, what he’d seen in there had far surpassed his worst expectations.

Just- The plan alone he had in place for the future, once his network and scheme was properly established, for what he’d so easily and apathetically planned to solve the problem of…upscaling and automating the production pipelines, when only a single quirk was the source. His pragmatic ‘solution’…

The thought alone amplified his raging emotions over the edge, his trembling hands stilling as his thoughts crystallized into cold, determined fury.

None of it could be seen from the outside just yet, until…

“Chisaki Kai,” Shinigami uttered lowly, the darkness in the dimly lit room pulsing with each syllable as he turned to face him, watching the still sane villain’s pupils dilate and be overcome with dread.

“In the long years I’ve lived, I have often doubted if I was a good man.” The voice hammered on his ears with pulses of increased air pressure. A quiet swish discreetly pulled a small box containing a single bullet from his jacket and was stuffed under the Cloak. “But I’ve never doubted I am a kind one.”

The all-encompassing echo of footsteps as Shinigami returned to his previous place, looming over Overhaul, was like lead weights hooking into every bone.

“Kind men draw lines in the sand. Lines they do not ever willingly cross against their fellow man. No matter what happens, no matter how practical or easy.”

Overhaul let out gasping breaths, his rib case feeling smaller and tighter with each one, as his mask was ripped off and tossed to the side without a single motion.

“It is a good thing then…that I do not consider you a fellow man,” Shinigami boomed in a soundless whisper, the Elder Wand gripped loosely in his hand as he brought his hands up to his hood.

“Congratulations, Chisaki Kai…Overhaul.” The world shuddered with the unheard toll of a bell as Shinigami spat out the word, pulling back his hood to reveal the pale white eyes piercing down at Overhaul’s. “You have made it on a very, very short list.”

There was no mania in those deathly pale eyes, crowned by black horns and curls, as his mouth twisted up into an emotionless grin.

“And now it’s time for you…to reap your reward,” Shinigami rasped as he raised his Wand.

Thanks to his quirk and unrivaled biological studies, there was little lethal damage Overhaul ever had to worry for in life.

But as Chisaki Kai took in the tip of elder wood, lighting up a blinding, toxic red, brimming with nothing but pure malice and fury, he truly, finally felt the deep, chilling, unavoidable fear of Death.

 


 

Iida Tenya was filled with unquenchable rage.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Upon reaching Hosu and his internship agency, Manual had gravely informed him he knew of his true intentions. There’d been a lecture, an attempt to make him see the error of his ways, and a joyful continuation of the internship as it was meant to be.

And though he knew it was wrong of him, that he was making a mistake in some way, the thought of Tensei lying helplessly in that bed, never to walk again, and the thought of that monster continuing his unjustifiable crusade with no consequence, it made it impossible to rid himself of this blinding rage.

It was close to halfway through the week, and despite nothing having happened yet, Tenya had a feeling deep in his gut that Stain would strike.

Soon enough.

 


 

“Ne- Principal-san, thank you so much for showing me all this.”

This afternoon had been more than he could’ve ever dreamed of.

A whole world, albeit a limited one, filled with magic and wonder, like a portion of the magical world preserved from the past.

In just those few hours, he’d seen oni, kappas, mooncalves, a small colony of sirens, trees filled with bowtruckles, a small group of occamies flying overhead in the air, one swimming down to playfully circle him with a chirping hiss, and he’d even been approached by a handful of demiguises, tentatively shimmering into visibility from the tree branches. And that wasn’t to mention the plants, like chomping cabbages, and most notable the absolutely massive trees populating the cavernous space, a species Nezu had described as ‘bred to resist gravity.’

And resist gravity they did, reaching high in the sky, far beyond even the heights of redwoods and Tibetan cypresses, only dwarfed by the central column encasing the magma pillar, which reached the distant ceiling.

“Ah, but the most important part has yet to be shown, Remnant-kun,” Nezu commented from up top.

Yes, he hadn’t left his perch the whole time. At this point, Izuku had gotten used to the added weight.

“Recall what I said when we entered the sanctuary. Magical creatures found it gradually harder to use their magical abilities.”

Izuku hummed. “Like Ippan-san,” he realized. During the…well, Nezu called it a tour but it felt more like a safari to him, but during the tour they’d stopped at a collection of house-like dens, where several kitsune dwelled, including a few playful children, all with just one tail, while the older ones remained close to the blue woman- kitsune’s height.

Surprisingly, Izuku had already decided kitsune were just another completely normal part of his world now.

“In her case, actually, it goes a bit further,” Nezu said. “For when the last generation of witches and wizards started dying, those remaining in areas devoid of magical humans quickly realized they were slowly dying from the lack of active magic.”

Izuku gasped.

“Yes, Remnant-kun, for kitsune like Ippan-san, and any other magical species that is sufficiently magical in nature, they can only hold out beyond the confines of a wellspring like this for finite periods of time.” Izuku could feel Nezu’s grip on his hair tighten briefly. “They return to this place several times a year not just to relax, but to repair the slow deterioration they’ve faced outside. And out of the other six wellsprings, only two are equipped to handle a constant population of magical creatures and beings without discovery, though one is certainly odder than the other.”

He continued to walk, the reality Nezu was painting slowly setting in. “…there are only three places on Earth where fully magical creatures can survive?”

Nezu nodded, snout brushing against his hair. “And then there are some magical species that are so magical in nature they can barely survive a few minutes beyond here.”

He let out another gasp, before realizing. “Like Fawkes?” he mumbled to himself, recognizing the explanation as one dad had given him once.

A questioning hum came from above, and Izuku clarified with, “Like phoenixes?”

“Ah. Yes, not what I was thinking of, as they can move into the plane where magic resides, but they too cannot exist in the physical world outside these places.”

Huh, he wondered…

“Fawkes?” Izuku called out loudly, letting his magic pulse in the way he’d normally summon phoenix flames.

Not even a moment later and the air before him ignited in a ball of golden flames, a melodic bird call filling the space.

And then, for the first time outside a Pensieve, Izuku watched Fawkes the phoenix manifest from his flames, in majestic red and gold as he dispersed the curtain of embers with a flap of his wings.

“Oh my!” Nezu exclaimed, and Izuku grinned.

“Hi, Fawkes,” he greeted, crouching down and holding his hand out as dad’s companion hopped over. “Nice to finally meet you forreal.”

Fawkes trilled, a comforting sound, and pressed its head into his hand, allowing Izuku to pet his feathers and feel their softness.

A quiet snort escaped him as he realized something else. He’d always found it interesting that items could apparently be stored in the plane Fawkes could stay in, but…

Are you keeping the stuff dad stores through you around here?” he faux-whispered.

There was a warbling sound as Fawkes extended his wing, pointing at one of the insanely tall trees, and Izuku realized it was the equivalent of a laugh as he burst out laughing himself.

Somewhere in that one massive tree, there was a large nest filled with all kinds of junk dad thought was swimming in the magical ether.

A light tug on his hair made him remember his passenger, and his laughter died back down. “Thanks, Fawkes,” he said with a grin, deciding he’d keep that piece of information to himself for now.

“While I’ve rarely encountered a phoenix, let alone seen someone call one to them so readily, there is one final destination I wish for you to see,” Nezu said, perking up. “And right in time for dinner too!”

Fawkes gave Izuku a short bow, before cawing warmly and flapping his wings, flying off and up to his tree, and Izuku stood up.

“Is this…related to what you had in mind when you brought up magical species that…can’t exist outside of here?”

“Yes,” Nezu confirmed, guiding Izuku down a specific path, a swarm fairies flying up ahead like fireflies. “And we’re right around the corner.”

At the end of the path Izuku found himself in a large, hilly area that looked almost like it was pulled exactly out of the pages of The Lord of the Rings, a nearly lost book series dad happened to have saved copies of and read to him. Just one of those twenty-first century copies would be enough to set Izuku and mom for life if they wanted to, along with a frontpage article.

If not for the gentle tug on his hair, Izuku would’ve started aimlessly wandering around the oddly magical village, wondering who lived here if not hobbits.

“This is our last destination today, Remnant-kun,” Nezu piped up above him, before climbing down, leaving his head feeling weirdly light.

The principal’s furry paw knocked on the round wooden door, which swung open to reveal a cozy, carpeted hall inside. As the principal happily walked in, Izuku was forced to duck down to follow, already fearing for his back.

Fear of future backpains aside, Izuku observed his new surroundings. Despite the cramped size, it looked as cozy, earthy, and welcoming as the outside suggested, with Nezu walking ahead and into what looked like a sitting area, with a small fireplace tucked in the corner.

As Izuku went to move through the arch and into the room, two small things came dashing out, clad in tunics and trousers and giggling as they rushed past him, nearly tripping him. He barely had time to take in who had passed him, but what had stood out were the large bulbous eyes and the long pointy ears that flopped around in their run.

“Hello, Susuke-san,” Nezu’s voice piped up from inside, and Izuku returned his focus to the small sitting room.

There, in a large- well, small armchair, an old, wrinkly magical being sat. They too had the same bulbous eyes and elongated pointy ears, but their skin was very wrinkly, and their hair wispy.

“Ah, Nezu,” the being- woman?- surprisingly didn’t croak. Her voice sounded aged and fragile, but not like what he’d expect from a person with that many wrinkles. “I haves the casserole you like waiting in the oven.”

Nezu clapped his paws together. “Splendid!” He paused, glancing at the archway. “I actually brought along a special guest of mine. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh. Its better not be another unfortunate demi-” The being’s joking comment cut off when her large blue eyes took him in.

Suddenly, her body seemed to seize up in her armchair, a finger jolting up as her wide eyes somehow became wider. “Y-You!”

Izuku paled. “No! No! Wait! It’s fine!” He only now realized he had to be the first human in this place in forever. “I-I’m not a- I mean…I’m just a wizard,” he admitted, sagging awkwardly.

It did not deliver the ease he’d hoped for.

“Yes, exactly!” the being snapped, turning her head to Nezu as she stood up, her back creaking. “How?!”

“Susuke-san…”

“I don’t know.”

The being, Susuke, turned her attention back to him, eyes still wide and pupils tiny.

“I- I don’t really know how I got magic,” Izuku admitted. “Both my parents have quirks. But…” He trailed off, glancing out a small porthole-shaped window that had a far-off view of a waterfall streaming out a crevice high up the rocky sanctuary wall. “I’m…I guess I’m just as much a remnant as this place is.”

Out of everything he’d seen so far today, this was what resonated the most with his desire to figure out what he wanted his hero name to mean…even if he still didn’t really know right now.

Susuke stared at him, limbs trembling from old age.

“Nezu, you are sure?” she asked.

“Yes, Remnant-kun has my full confidence.”

She let out a groaning sigh, slumping back in her armchair. “Fine, but theres better be a good explanation from you.”

Nezu nodded, and with the brief and sudden tension defused, Izuku’s mind began to wonder.

“What is…” And then he finally realized. The odd house, clean clothing, and barely there vocal tic had masked things at first, but now that he was paying attention things finally clicked.

“Wait…you’re a house-!”

“Do not say that!” Susuke snapped at him, large eyes glaring at him with all they could muster. She paused for a moment, hearing the quiet laughter from the two younger beings- house-elves, echo through the house. “We…are brownies.”

“Uh…” Izuku was left off-beat again, eyes darting the small room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” was all he could offer, feeling mortified for committing a faux pas he hadn’t known about.

The house- The brownie scoffed at him the same way Recovery Girl did- an elderly woman thing apparently. “Yes, thats is clear.”

She groaned, limbs tensing as she pulled herself out of her chair. Nezu seemed to move over, but she slapped his paw away, snapping her finger and making a small cane appear in her grip in a burst of magic Izuku hadn’t ever encountered before.

Yeah…house- err, brownies really did seem close to being pure magic.

“Well,” she began, tapping her cane on the carpeted floor. “You haves been invited to dinner by Nezu tonight, so join us.”

“Uh- Yeah, of course,” he agreed hastily, awkwardly shuffling out the way to let her pass.

“Kyoyō, Kimama!” she called as she shuffled out. “You better not be making more troubles!”

“It seems my desire to be dramatic made things more problematic than they needed to be,” Nezu commented as the brownie disappeared, still standing in the sitting room.

Izuku leveled him a ‘you think?’

The principal grinned back at him, his scar pulling over his eye.

“Well, let’s not commit any further breaches of etiquette tonight, hm?” he offered. “Let’s-”

And then a buzzing sound filled the room.

“Uh…Principal-san?” Izuku pointed at Nezu’s vest pocket. “Your phone.”

He looked down and fished it out. “Oh dear,” he said as he turned it on.

There was a brief moment where Nezu’s face was lit in the harsh light of his phone, drowning out the warm flickering of the fireplace, and silence reigned, and then-

“Oh dear.” This one much more heavy than the last.

“What is it?” Izuku asked, a small tendril of anxiety entering him.

“I do believe our situation with Iida-kun became more…dire,” Nezu informed him gravely, turning his phone to show him the main alert page of Hero Net.

‘Mass Nōmu attack on Hosu in progress! Regional alert sent out to all pros!’

Dread hit Izuku at full force. If there was anything…What was Iida currently doing out there in the chaos? Was he out there? Was Stain out there?

And meanwhile he was here, unable to even know what-

Izuku abruptly straightened up, immediately regretting it as he bumped into the low ceiling.

“I have something!” he said hastily, fishing in his costume’s pocket for it. He was sure he-

“Aha!” he exclaimed, pulling out the small mirror dad had given him on Monday. “A scrying mirror!”

“And Potter-kun no doubt made that because…”

Izuku brushed aside Nezu’s inquiry in favor of staring down at the unnaturally smooth surface.

“Iida Tenya,” he spoke aloud, the surface rippling from his voice.

He felt Nezu brush up to his arm as he peeked in, the rippling surface clearing.

Oh no, Iida…

On the screen, Iida was seen running down a large street, fires lighting things up an eerie orange, and turning into an alley he had no business being in, Manual nowhere in sight.

“That…is quite the pickle.”

Yeah, no shit!

“I- uh, what do we do?” Izuku felt panic setting in. “Inform someone? Tell dad?”

“I do not know what Shinigami is currently up to, but I’m led to believe he is very much busy tonight, yes?”

Izuku grimaced. Yeah. And he couldn’t exactly check with the scrying mirror right now, since the whole deal was that Nezu thought dad was called Henry Evan Potter, distant descendant of dad, which would go straight out the window if he had to call out ‘Harry James Potter’ with the mirror. And if the short phone exchange talking about a sudden amount of pending arrest warrants earlier today meant anything…

“And it seems we don’t have any time to inform a local pro and have them arrive on time either,” Nezu further pointed out. And Izuku paled as the mirror view travelling into the alley showed a harrowing sight deeper in, one Iida was readying to attack.

“I- uh- Nezu-san, could you figure out where this is?” he asked, staring at the feed with dread.

Nezu hummed, leaning in closer, his ears twitching as he took in the sounds of car alarms and far-off screeches, his eyes scanning the view for signs and backdrops through the window into reality.

And then he pulled up his phone again, expertly navigating to a particular alley on the online map.

“Now, if I pegged your performance at the Sports Festival, you are capable of traversing here by magic?” he asked.

“I- Yes, but I thought…”

“While I do not like this, there is little time or recourse to be had,” Nezu chided, a somber look in his face. “Not if we wish to prevent a tragedy striking 1-A tonight.”

Izuku stared at the small scrying mirror, before sighing and pocketing it, the window returning to its reflective surface. “Give me ten seconds.” In his current state, he could not mess this up.

Nezu hummed, holding out his hand, and Izuku nodded, closing his eyes.

Tuning out his surroundings, he built up an image of what his destination had to be like. A rooftop, overlooking the skyline of Hosu and Tokyo beyond, fires raging in the distance, a cold, biting wind carrying screams and car alarms and sirens.

“Nezu, are you and your guest coming?”

In the alley below, a pro lay slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. Hard clangs of metal echoing between the walls dotted by half-ripped posters as someone approached.

“I’m afraid an emergency is forcing us into making a brief detour. But please keep the casserole warm for us, Susuke-san.”

Breathe in, breathe out.

“Are you ready, Remnant?”

Nerves steeled, breathing steadied, Izuku opened his eyes again, and gave Nezu a determined nod.

Feeling his magic extend to cover the principal, and with his mental image and destination in mind, Izuku twisted their surroundings until imagination had morphed into reality, disappearing from the cozy brownie hill.

 


 

The echo of loud and hoarse tortured screams echoed through the dim basement room, as a toxic red light dimmed and disappeared.

When he’d come here, he hadn’t expected today to be the second time he willingly cast this spell and succeeded in doing so. And even then, the first time had been done on impulse, in blind rage. This time had been through cold fury and ruthless calculation.

He hadn’t expected to fall in that state, not from just one gaze into a mind. And he knew that someone like Eri, with her past, had to be adept at glimpsing even the deepest, most well-hidden embers of malice or bloodlust. He knew, if he’d dismissed Overhaul and came to her, she’d see, no matter that it hadn’t been aimed at her. She’d never trust him.

“Thank you,” Shinigami rasped as he dismissed the concrete keeping Overhaul pinned, letting him drop to the ground and convulse more freely. “You are a most excellent hate sink.”

He doubted the villain could hear him.

And yet, that logic wasn’t the prime reason behind it. No, pragmatism wouldn’t have allowed it to even work to begin with, not beyond one sharp moment. And it wasn’t justice or righteous to mete out punishment in the dark, to assume the role of judge and jury. Nor was it deserving.

No, the many minutes of the spell, just enough to not break a mind and let him face the consequences of his actions clearly, didn’t even come close to the pain and suffering he’d doled out on an innocent child, just because. Contrary to what ‘undeserving’ typically evoked, this villain deserved more.

Thus remained the prime motivation behind this. Harry truly, genuinely, really just wanted to do it, and had enjoyed it, despite the part of him that would always berate him for those thoughts.

Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure why his previous successful casting against…he forgot- had even worked. He must’ve just happened to have been in the right state of mind back then, and given the events of that time, it all had probably been conducive to it.

And only one thing was soothing the part of him whose sole function was berating him. He really didn’t consider Overhaul a fellow person, just as he’d said aloud. There were very few people Harry hated enough at some point in his past to ever even consider using that curse on, whether it worked or not aside. And those were Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, Bellatrix Lestrange, Dolores Umbridge, and Vernon and Petunia Dursley.

But the list of those he didn’t consider human was even smaller. Umbridge, Vernon, and Petunia were all the worst of your average person, and then amplified, but that just made them the most depressingly human. Peter Pettigrew did what he did driven solely by fear for himself, and his own end had come by going against Voldemort’s will, no matter how small a betrayal. And Voldemort, even against Voldemort Harry had been able to muster pity and sympathy, for the fear of death that had twisted him and paved the way for the impending endless torture he now faced as a broken soul, one he suffered in that eternal white space to this day.

Then again, that sympathy was not meant for Voldemort, but for Tom Riddle and the circumstances and decisions that had made him become the Dark Lord, who had not been around until the final moments, when the last horcrux had been destroyed.

So in the end, the list of people he didn’t consider a fellow person contained two names…now three.

For someone who’s lived for over two centuries, very, very short indeed.

“You deserve more,” Shinigami finally spoke as he stepped closer, watching the convulsions diminish and rapid flitting of eyes slow down. “But alas, I have far more important things to do tonight.”

He bent over, making sure his hood wouldn’t hide his face again, just so this villain would continue to see his face. “I do not know where you will go after I’ve sent you to the authorities. But just remember, when you’re wasting away in a jail cell, your family, goals, plans and dreams and everything you care about forever out of your grasp…” He leaned closer, using his Wand to make sure Overhaul would properly see and hear his words. “I will know where you are. And who knows, perhaps the Shinigami will pay you a few more visits at night.”

And part of him enjoyed watching those eyes widen in understanding, the smell of urine wafting past.

That would be the last Overhaul would see of the Shinigami for now, a stunner knocking him unconscious.

Harry sighed, loud and weary, pale eyes returning to human green as he straightened his back and looked down past his nose at the unconscious villain before him.

After a moment’s indecision, knowing things liked to come back to bite him in the arse, he swished his Wand, vanishing a disk an inch thick of the nerves in his wrists.

No need to go gory. He’d get to keep his hands and quirk, they’d just be useless to him now. And as far as he knew, courtesy of Izuku, no healing quirks were capable of regenerating nerves, only a few rare regeneration quirks, which worked solely for their owner.

With one more swish, the green jacket morphed into another straitjacket, and Harry summoned the mask he’d thrown aside, shoving it under his Cloak. The Wand was held against his head, and with a targeted Obliviate he removed the knowledge of Eri’s name and origin. He’d never get to forget what he did, but now it would be to a nameless child he ‘lucked’ onto. Harry would rather he never forget a single thing, but for the sake of what was to come, it felt needed. Hell, Overhaul basically considered Eri a nameless child he stumbled onto anyway, proven by the ease at which the spell took effect, so it didn’t change much.

With a final peek inside to check his work and a satisfied nod, he portkeyed the villain away to Sir Nighteye’s agency.

Again, poor fellow.

It was karmic, from what he’d learned about Eri’s quirk, hers would be the only one on Earth that could heal Overhaul now.

Eri…

Harry shut his eyes, processing what he now knew. What he’d seen.

Seeing Eri at her youngest, a clear toddler of three, close to four years old, sedated in a regular chair as a scalpel made careful, exploratory incisions. Incisions that became harsher and more careless over time, based on her then short silver hair growing to her shoulders.

And then the first appearance of the chair, with Eri at only four years old at best, awake and struggling in her restraints and crying out for ‘mommy!’ in confusion and panic as Overhaul cut at her in the exact same way he’d done in the present, before finally ‘resetting’ her, leaving her a sobbing mess.

Two years of that…

Two years of that precious little girl growing more and more despondent, more and more used to it, her eyes slowly dimming into dissociation. Until what had to be around a year ago, sometime after he’d called his old professors to assist in compiling a curriculum for Izuku, when her eyes looked truly soulless, for just a moment.

If he’d Called anyone like he had with Arthur at any point that year, they’d have been able to point out that ‘strange, appearing and disappearing soul’ to him. If he’d Called then, he’d have met Little Silver for only a minute.

How cruel were those moments, that even her soul, ripped from its memories and body, had instinctively figured out how to delay returning to its living shell, to somehow hold on to the Beyond to avoid more pain while it was happening. Him Calling her repeatedly hadn’t been the cause of her being able to stay for longer times. That had been progressing for an entire year already.

All that time…

And based on that one thought that had originally enraged him, that would’ve only been the beginning for her.

In that dark basement room, Harry cried quietly, lingering anger and fury washing away with each tear.

And with the last drop hitting the concrete, where a stain of cooling urine greeted it, Harry vanished the wetness on his cheeks and steadied himself, heading into the corridor and reaching his final destination.

It wasn’t much further, close enough that Harry had felt the need to bring up those walls and silence the corridor before the fight.

 

 

 

The door was as plain as they came, more one you’d expect to be used for hospital rooms.

He came to a halt, indecision overtaking him for a moment. Even after everything, he didn’t know how-

No, he knew exactly how to start.

The silver ghostly hare coalesced from his Wand, hopping away and phasing through the door.

Through the door, he heard a quiet gasp.

Since his first scrying of Eri over a week ago, he’d sent out his Patronus every night to comfort her while she slept. And since last Sunday he’d sent it out while she was still awake.

The past two days, he’d silently apparated into her room under the Cloak in the middle of the night, just to make sure…

Yesterday, he’d tucked her in when he found her sleeping without blankets. And he’d hated himself every second for not just getting her out the moment he arrived on Monday, when she was right there, no matter how necessary gathering evidence and everything was for the future.

It was a small comfort that without him, gathering evidence that wouldn’t even be as conclusive or comprehensive would take weeks at least, compared to a mere two, three days.

But now there was nothing left to stand in his way…only himself and how Eri would choose to react to him.

Steeling himself, Harry reached for the doorknob and gently opened the door.

Inside, his hare was sitting on the bed, Eri quietly watching the ghostly animal scratch itself on her knees with an encouraging shine in her eyes.

Of course, as her bed directly faced the door, his appearance was noticed immediately. Eri’s eyes shot up from the hare, and Harry watched with a heavy heart as she instinctively leaned back, pressing up against the wooden headboard.

“Hi,” he greeted quietly, holding up his free hand in a motionless wave.

For a moment nothing happened, just green and red eyes meeting each other, with the misty hare lighting the room between them. Though Harry could feel his heart hammering within.

And then-

“Is…” a quiet, familiar voice spoke up. “Is Tsuki-chan yours?”

His eyes softened as he took in the confused tone. Tsuki-chan?

Oh, like the myth of the hare on the moon. Fitting.

“Yeah…” Harry beckoned for the hare to return to him as he pressed down on the unexpected wave of emotion crashing into him, the animal hopping off the bed and through the air. “This is my Little Luna,” he croaked as his Patronus settled on his shoulder, absentmindedly giving it a scratch that didn’t reach, before it faded.

The pale light faded, and Harry flicked on the room’s light, a surprising warm yellow that fit the wood panels and painted clouds adorning the walls.

“I’ve been sending her here for a while now,” he continued softly, staying in the doorway. “One day, you appeared in front of me, where I live. It must be happening while you dream.”

It was a white lie, but if she remembered any of those moments, he didn’t want that to be tainted by what came before, only what came after, when she no doubt slept and eventually woke up in bed.

“Since then, you kept appearing at night. You didn’t know who you were, or where you came from, and neither did I,” he explained, watching her slowly lean forward, curiosity surpassing her instinct to be cautious. “But even then I knew things were bad for you, and so I promised to figure out who you were, where you go when you wake up, and now…I’m here to take you away, to somewhere safe.”

As if a switch flipped at ‘take you away’ Eri flinched hard, eyes widening with horror.

“N-No! You can’t!”

Harry suppressed the intense desire to step forward and comfort her, hand clamping onto the doorframe. Did she not want-

“He’ll- He’ll make you disappear! He’ll come after you!” she begged, shouting for the first time. “You have to go!”

Oh. Of course.

Rather than speak up, Harry quietly waved his Wand.

On the ground before him, a small pile of discarded masks appeared, turning Eri quiet.

He kept his eyes on hers as he slowly pulled out a final mask. Overhaul’s red and gold beak, which was never seen off his face, was dropped unceremoniously on the pile, like the crappy cherry on top. Eri’s eyes followed it down, before shooting up to his.

Harry took in those questioning eyes, and knew his plan had been worth it.

“Overhaul was no match for me,” he declared, voice steely. “I defeated him, and all the others on my way here. I’ve made sure he can never come near you again.”

Another silence reigned, one where Eri was clearly too taken aback by what she must’ve thought was an irrefutable truth of the world being undone.

“Can I come sit down?” Harry asked gently. A moment of truth.

After a moment of nothing, silver, matted hair shifted as she nodded, and Harry felt a weight pressing down on his hammering heart lessen.

He was one step closer.

Quietly closing the door behind him, Harry walked over and slowly sat down at the foot end of the bed.

“I can tell you don’t remember me,” he admitted quietly, forcing down the lump in his throat. He’d come to peace with that realization last week. “But I wonder if maybe, somewhere, I seem familiar to you. Some funny feeling in your gut telling you you can trust me.”

He didn’t dare look in her eyes then, confirming whether she did or did not resonate with those words, so instead he did something else.

“I wonder…if this feels familiar to you as well,” he said, turning his head to look at her. And with the swish of his Wand, her tan dress and the bandages on her arms fused together and puffed up into a jumper patterned with a unicorn in space one more time, joined by the bandages on her legs spreading out and morphing into pink, fluffy tights.

Eri gasped, leaning forward on her knees as her figure melted instinctively into the clothes, and in those eyes, while it was not remembrance or recollection, Harry finally saw recognition flash.

“You- You promised?” she asked quietly, deeply ingrained suspicion and despondency warring with a strangely familiar feeling of hope.

“I promised you then, and I’ll promise you again,” Harry said firmly but warmly. “I’ve come here to find you, and now I’m here to take you away, to somewhere safe, where you’ll never be hurt like you have been again. It’s over now.”

He put his Wand away, and slowly extended his hand to her, braving the final step.

“Do you trust me?”

Was it fitting, that the back of his extended hand, face down from her, still presented the words ‘I must not tell lies’ after all this time?

In a display eerily familiar to when the Bloodstone had stood witness, Eri’s hand slowly reached forward, hesitating again for a moment, before ghosting over his palm.

He gently closed his hand around hers, feeling his heart soar for the first time since appearing on the street above, and couldn’t hold back anymore as he slowly guided her closer, until finally she was on his lap, her figure starting to tremble as he embraced her wholly.

There were no audible sobs this time, just quiet relief she finally allowed to break free.

Harry lowered his head as he squeezed her softly, letting the long awaited success wash over him while he murmured quiet reassurances to her.

And then, too soon, it became time to get moving. Soon enough, police and local heroes would be sweeping through the complex, no doubt having been alarmed by the locals hearing the fighting above ground and Sir Nighteye.

He slowly moved his arms, keeping one on her back as he moved the other to support her below, and calmly stood up.

In response, Eri instinctively wrapped her arms around him for support, and he adjusted his hold on her.

He looked up at the ceiling, the wet spot on his shirt brushing against his skin.

We’re getting out of here,” he whispered, twitching his Wand behind Eri’s back.

The ceiling twisted and opened up, forming a vertical shaft, and the floor beneath him rose up in the shape of a pillar, bringing the duo up to the surface.

He still wasn’t sure about apparition with quirked people, and while he was almost certain portkeys would work, they would be too harsh for the situation right now.

Finally, the grinding of stone on stone stopped, the buzz of streetlamps and far-off police sirens welcoming him back under the now darkened skies.

“Alright, ready yourself,” he warned as he crouched down, Eri’s head shifting against his chest as she looked up at him with curious, wet eyes.

Behind him, the Cloak flared up and billowed, shifting from flowing fabric to Thestral wings.

In his arms, Eri gasped. Harry suppressed a grimace. Of course she could see those.

“Let’s go home,” he announced warmly, seeing more recognition flash behind her eyes.

With a flap of his wings and a spell, Harry took off into the sky, carrying Eri up with him. A few blocks over, police squads began sweeping the residence and arresting the grunts in the wrecked courtyard, bringing an end to the Shie Hassaikai, one of the last remaining yakuza.

 


 

“Hey, want to see something pretty?” dad said, flapping his wings. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

The girl held in his arms below shifted hesitantly, her face lighting up in awe as she took in the fields of lights from civilization down below, the moon and its reflection shining off the Pacific as stars twinkled from above in the night.

Despite everything, Izuku’s heart warmed as he hastily pocketed the scrying mirror. He’d taken the very brief opportunity after appearing on the rooftop to hastily whisper dad’s full name to it.

Dad was indeed preoccupied.

“Consider yourself a humble offering…to the betterment of society.”

Izuku came rushing to the side of the building, joining Nezu in peering over, watching his worst fears be confirmed in one moment, a figure cloaked in body armor, bandages, and scarves, a katana hanging over Iida’s downed body like the sword of Damocles.

Remnant…” Nezu began.

“Shut up. Shut up!”

You have permission to use your powers and engage the Hero Killer Stain to save Iida Tenya and pro hero Native.

“It doesn’t matter what you say now!”

Izu- Remnant nodded, vaulting over the ledge and casting a cushioning charm on the air below.

“You’re still the criminal who hurt my brother!”

The moment his feet hit the ground, Remnant cast a powerful disarming charm at Stain’s back.

The katana was wrenched from the villain’s grip, shooting off and clattering to the ground near a heap of trash bags.

Stain swirled around, lifting his foot from where it’d been keeping down Iida, eyes darting across the alley and honing in on him.

“M-Midoriya?!” Iida shouted below him, eyes wide.

Remnant’s eyes instead focused on the injured pro slumped against the wall nearby, and threw his hands forward, Banishing Stain’s combat suit with as much effort as he could muster, sending the man backwards several feet.

At the same time he stomped the ground and wrenched his arms back to one side.

The bloodstained alley ground below Iida and the outer surface of the wall began sliding in his direction, like moving walkways, though rather than replenish, the furthest ends were ripped off, leaving what remained under the surface exposed. He was sure dad could do it properly.

Seeing the Hero Killer recoup from his launch, Remnant jumped forward, landing where Iida’s body was being moved.

“Iida,” he called, keeping his eyes on the opponent, who was mysteriously standing back, like a predator observing prey. “Can you move?”

“No,” Iida choked out. “Since he cut me, I can’t move a muscle. It must be his quirk.”

His quirk…

“You…”

Izuku felt himself tense up at the voice, and instinctively lowered himself into a battle-ready pose.

“You’re the gold medalist from the Sports Festival,” Stain said, eyes narrow. “You may have jumped in to save a classmate and a pro, but don’t think that will give you clemency in the eyes of my creed.”

A quirk that paralyzed a victim…

“Midoriya, don’t interfere. This has nothing to do with you!”

That made it like the muscles and joints froze up below the neck…

In that alley, there were conflicting expectations, of Izuku to react to Iida’s callous demand, of Remnant to respond to Stain’s challenge.

But instead…

A quiet snort broke the tense silence.

Behind his mask, Stain’s blood-red eyes narrowed. “You think this situation is funny?”

Remnant stared back, not responding, and instead broke out into a dash.

Rather than shock, Stain reacted in kind, rushing for him.

On the next step Remnant stomped the ground, concrete slamming up and forming a wall that sliced the alley in two.

Remnant jumped back, a tremble in his legs.

Come on…

“Obscuring your own vision-”

He’d either vault over it or pull a dad and slash straight through. Unless he somehow had access to teleportation.

“…Rookie move.”

Without warning, the makeshift wall exploded.

Remnant swiped his off-hand, vanishing the debris mid-air, and with the other he sent out the most power he could at Stain’s abruptly revealed body.

A powerful purple flash shot through the alley.

Remnant breathed shakily, praying his initial gambit would work out, body tense and ready to react to anything as his eyes flitted across the alley.

On the other side, Stain had passed partly through the hole, arms in the middle of hurling several throwing knives.

That night, the infamous Hero Killer Stain was unceremoniously taken out in some unnamed back alley with a simple Full Body-Bind.

~“If a direct spell’s effect matches a quirk closely enough, it works on them?”~

The perfect match to his quirk.

A quiet thud was heard as Stain’s frozen body toppled over from its unstable position.

 

 

“Midoriya…what the fuck?”

A cackle could be vaguely heard from somewhere up high as Izuku burst out in giggles, both the relief from a successful plan and the unexpected crass language hitting his funny bone.

He stepped to the side, keeping one eye on Stain as he glanced at Iida’s disbelieving stare, fear and self-righteous rage washed away by the short-lived encounter.

“Uhm…” Izu- Remnant began awkwardly once the break in composure faded, eyeing the alley. “Is there anything here I can use to knock Stain out?” He didn’t trust his Body-Bind to hold for long enough to wrap everything up.

Once more, far-off cackles that could be mistaken for some bird returned as Remnant’s eyes followed Native’s down to a loose brick.

Notes:

Let's start with the last part first, because I already knew while writing, after having seen some of the comments, that this might be an unexpected decision on my part lol. I mean, I am calling this chapter 'Curb Stomp' and Harry's not the only one doing it. Then again, Stain experienced more of a thud into a curb than a stomp, but you get what I mean.

To me, including a fight in a story means that the fight has to be important and move along the plot or some character arc, otherwise it's mindless action that I really don't like writing in detail. In this case, unlike in canon, Izuku has little to no connection with Iida, beyond his basic unlimited empathy making him aware of Iida's odd demeanor. That, and the Stain fight will progress nothing in the plot I have planned for this fic. It has no real merit. And with how Todoroki's part in the Sports Festival has changed, with Izuku's words coincidentally only shocking him out of his tunnel vision towards his vow and not pushing him all the way to making him use his fire, Todoroki probably isn't even interning under Endeavor or in Hosu (Since I had no need to have him appear this chapter, I haven't had to think about it much yet). On the other hand, I haven't changed enough to have the story avoid Iida's confrontation with Stain, and I don't want to just hit y'all with Character Death out of nowhere, or a drawn-out fight, so I set up and devised this particular Stain encounter. That, and with Harry's side of the story, I wanted a palette cleanser to finish up, so anticlimactic and comedic-leaning it is. Next chapter will cover the second half of internships, because I still have plans for how the rest plays out.

Somehow, when it comes to MHA fics, I like to randomly pick two side characters and decide I really wanna flesh them out. In Starborn that was Hatsume Mei and Fuwa Mawata (and they never revealed her quirk in the manga so I get to pretend mine is canon!). Speaking of, Fuwa and the Urban Parkour Club might make a brief guest appearance here at some point. But in this fic those random students happened to be Mineta and Pony. The idea that Pony's surname is just her American name turned Japanese (Tsuno means horn and tori is take, so 'take horn' becomes Grabhorn, an actual surname) was taken from elsewhere. Most of the backstory came from me wanting to explain her being part-Japanese but an exchange student from the US, and also give her a big motivation for doing so. And so her being an accident between her mom and a Japanese exchange student, with the man being the most wholesome and accepting parent ever, became a thing. Pony was also a great POV character to dump my personal world building for the US on. I know the general idea people have is that 'murica = freedom' so pro heroes will be more independent than Japanese ones, but I had fun coming up with this different system. Won't try to come up with how the system was established between the Rhode Island Statute (real canon event) and the present though.

Surprise! Remember those seven nexus points/magical wellsprings Harry mentioned? The one below/in Fuji is a sanctuary for the remnants of the magical world. Also, this is why Nezu originally chose to become the principal of UA! Instead of Shiketsu or Ketsubutsu or the like. He still has his backstory from canon, but just meshed with the Jarvey part. He grew up in the laboratory and then got out, got introduced to Sanctuary and decided to be a representative of sorts. Also, Ordinary Lady is a kitsune coz why not? And here's where the remaining house elves- I mean, brownies are! Changed things around a bit. Firstly, the weird house elf grammar is diminished to an -s in words where it's not too noticeable, and secondly, as a regional difference, because a lot of English house elf names end with a -y, I made it so Japanese names are simple words with one syllable repeated. Suke means Helper, Kimama means Carefree (the double syllable was already there) and Kyō means Excitement.

Eri is free! Crucio the Overhaul, instill in him the fear of Death! He never stood a chance. Poor lad (not). I also enjoy the idea Harry is more of a near-vigilante that kinda does whatever he wants but also bumbles through the paperwork to make sure he complies to the society he's trying to fit in for the foreseeable future. Poor Nighteye, he might appear next chapter as I cover the aftermath (Wonder why I pegged it as Osaka? Ask in the comments, I'm nearly out of space here).

I hope Harry vs Shie Hassaikai did him the name Shinigami justice, especially since there's no actual death involved. And yes, 18:53 to 18:56 on May 15th in Osaka is about how long it takes for the sun to fully set on the horizon then. The length of Harry's charge fits pretty well with it, and more BAMF for us all, right?

Thinking of posting a Christmas one-shot with next chapter, a flash-forward focusing on Harry and Eri's bond.

Notes:

If you liked this, and you also like My Hero Academia, then check out my longfic Starborn Hero, or the unrelated one-shot Into His Kind Arms, Again and its follow-up.

Series this work belongs to: