MHA: Dark Matter (EvilPen)

Born without a Quirk. Abandoned by his hero father. Sold to a lab as a test subject.

Ken's life was never fair. But when his torment awakens a terrifying power—Dark Matter—he escapes. Not to become a hero. Not to save anyone.

He becomes "Ticci Micc": an S‑class villain who can phase through walls, steal Quirks, and erase anyone who threatens his new family.

Heroes fear him. Governments hunt him. And three dangerously obsessed women want a piece of his soul (and his bed)

But when Japan collapses into civil war and a god-like enemy rises, Ken must decide: burn the world down, or become the monster who rules it.

I was breathing convulsively. My body was shaking, tears were streaming from my eyes, but I could not break free from my bonds. My eyes darted frantically across the white room and the equipment surrounding me, even though the bright lamp above my head blinded them. The only thing I could do was beg in a sharp, squeaky voice:

"Please don't, please stop, I beg you…"

But they did not stop. They had never stopped before.

For a long time, I did not want to understand when and how everything went wrong. I did not want to, but I understood. From the age of four.

Before that, Dad would often toss me into the air, saying what a cool and awesome hero I would become, just like him, while Mom stood nearby and smiled tenderly. Later, he began to look at me strangely and anxiously, asking if I had done anything unusual. I understood that he wanted to know whether my Quirk had awakened.

My father was a cool hero with a powerful Quirk. I always watched with delight as he teleported from place to place. My mother could enhance her body for a short time, though she did not do it often and ate a lot afterward.

Months passed. My parents started whispering anxiously and taking me to various doctors. At kindergarten, the teachers began to look at me with strange pity. As far as I remember, several people also watched a man in a wheelchair on TV, and my friends talked to me less and less and stopped inviting me to play.

I started ignoring this quite quickly. Stories and videos about heroes helped me, especially All Might, although my father began to speak less about his career. An exciting feeling burned inside me when I read articles about heroes and villains, their battles, and various videos about saving people. And All Might — the hero whose very presence gives hope and accomplishes the impossible.

Dreams of becoming like him appeared in my head less often, but I did not lose hope. My Quirk could awaken later, or in the worst case, I could become a hero's sidekick, like David Shield was for All Might. So I began looking for study materials for support course students at hero academies. But when I found them on the Internet, I understood nothing, and I had to seriously study math, physics, and chemistry just to grasp anything.

Still, my enthusiasm slowly began to fade. The material was dry and boring, nothing like the stories about heroes.

On my fifth birthday, my parents began to look at me with a new emotion in their eyes: disappointment. When I realized this, hopelessness and despair slowly began to consume me. They started paying less attention to me, just like those kindergarten teachers. Dad began arguing with Mom and appeared at home less often. Mom more and more often gave off a foul smell, the same kind that drunk adults had at parties.

And I tried harder not to be seen and read comics, articles about heroes, and tried to understand boring formulas and laws of physics.

It all ended three months before my sixth birthday.

Dad left.

We moved to another apartment, a smaller one. That foul smell from Mom was constant. Strange men began to appear in the house.

At six, I started elementary school. As soon as everyone learned that I had no Quirk, the teachers' gazes held only pity or indifference, and my peers held mockery and contempt. My desire to socialize disappeared.

I was consumed by the desire to understand why I had no Quirk. I did not have the extra joint in my little finger, yet my Quirk was absent, something the doctors could not explain. I decided to go from the opposite direction — not to understand the absence of a Quirk, but the reason for its appearance. That turned out to be even harder.

"To this day, the cause of Quirks remains unknown, but there is a theory that each subsequent generation becomes stronger than the previous one." That is how most articles about the emergence of Quirks through genetics and the accumulation of mutations began, or something like that.

Although nearly two centuries had passed since the appearance of Quirks, due to prolonged chaos and disorder around the world, science had not advanced far, including the study of Quirks.

While pursuing this topic and attending school, I did not abandon the exact sciences and also paid attention to those around me. If nothing changed at school, at home strangers began appearing more often, and Mom told me to stay in my room or, sometimes, to go outside for a walk.

Already accustomed to their sometimes loud presence in the apartment and the growing mess, I would lock myself in my room and immerse myself in the world of heroes and villains, dreaming of my Quirk awakening and becoming a hero on par with All Might. No, surpassing him.

One call from the neighbors to the police about the noise from us changed everything. The arrival of the police patrol shocked not only Mom and her guests but also me. After they arrived and inspected the apartment, the matter did not end with just a fine. People began to come and ask me various questions.

I was afraid of the unknown and the adults' new actions, as I had grown accustomed to them bringing nothing good. The court, testimonies from neighbors, school teachers, unknown men, my mother's confused and slightly guilty expression, people taking me away and speaking too sweetly. And their words, "your new home."

An orphanage.

Thus, my seventh birthday passed in an orphanage. I cried for the first week straight. My hope that if my Quirk awakened or if I behaved well and entered a hero academy, everything would go back to how it used to be. Mom would smile as tenderly as before, and Dad, ruffling my hair with a kind smile, would call me his little hero.

That would never happen again. I alone was the last idiot who believed it could ever come back.

The attitude of the people at the orphanage, as if on purpose, was no different from what it had been at school. Except here they decided to show me my place as someone "Quirkless" even sooner.

Still, I spent far less time here than expected.

After a month, the caregivers called me and told me to pack my things. Later, some man with a bushy mustache came up to me and began explaining something about an upcoming building renovation, a lack of space, which was why I would be moved to another place, and so on.

I paid little attention to what he said. What troubled me was that he spoke just as sweetly as the people who had brought me here.

After packing my things, we left the shelter and got into a car. As I sat down, I noticed the man take out and open a small jar. He quickly brought it to my face. I held my breath and tried to jump out of the car, but after a quick blow to my stomach and an inhale, I began to drift into sleep.

Chapter 2: Work

[Yoishi Miura's Pov ]

Yoishi Miura did not think much about moral torment while working. Nor did he think about it afterward either. Unlike Doctor Takahashi, whom he assisted, and some of his colleagues, he did not consider his work a "great calling" or an opportunity to help "advance scientific thought forward." No, he felt satisfaction and pride in a job well done, but precisely as a job. He believed that sooner or later someone else could have done this work, so why should he not do it for good money? After all, he had graduated from one of the most prestigious medical universities not to earn a pittance in some rundown position where all the best spots were taken by people with Quirks suited to their fields.

Still, it was not his motivation that attracted Doctor Takahashi. What the doctor liked most about him were three things: attentiveness, pedantry, and the ability to keep his mouth shut. And the last skill was by no means the least important. Three days after graduation, when he was planning which job to take, his former academic advisor contacted him and said he could recommend a good place to work, but for that he needed to speak with an acquaintance of his.

Arriving the next day at the meeting place, a Chinese restaurant called the Blue Dragon in Tokyo, he was led to a private room. An elderly gray-haired man dressed like a typical office clerk was already sitting there. When Miura entered, the man stood up and greeted him.

"Hello. You must be Yoishi Miura? My name is Akayo Takahashi, and our mutual acquaintance, Reiji-san, recommended you as a young man of great promise."

"Hello, Takahashi-san. Yes, Reiji-san called me yesterday and said he had recommended me to you."

"Excellent. I need new workers for my scientific project. I can offer you a position as a laboratory assistant with the possibility of promotion, but for that you will have to sign a non-disclosure agreement. The pay, of course, exceeds the standard by one point five times. As for the topic of the project, which I can disclose before signing the contract. Have you heard about the scientific discovery made three years ago concerning animals?"

"Yes, that topic stirred up all of society back then. The possibility of Quirks appearing in animals is astonishing, though it raises concerns. It is a pity that further study of that animal is impossible, since according to reports it gained a mind comparable to a human's. Is the project related to that? To animal Quirks?"

For the first time during the entire conversation, as Miura noticed, the man's face changed slightly. Until then he had sat with a kind smile, carefully examining him. Now the smile became slightly ironic, and his eyes took on an expression as if he had just heard a joke only he understood.

"Yes, we will study Quirks and the possibility of their manifestation in various 'animals.' Although the occurrence of Quirks in animals is incredibly rare, judging from the data we managed to obtain from those studies, we have ways to increase the likelihood of Quirk manifestation. You are probably wondering what all this is for? It mainly concerns the phenomenon of Quirks themselves. Two centuries have passed since their appearance, and no one can yet give a precise explanation of their origins or a clear definition. About eighty percent of people have Quirks, yet we know depressingly little about them. We cannot even understand why those who have the extra joint in their little finger do not develop a Quirk. Research on 'animals' with Quirks could help advance our understanding of the nature of Quirks themselves. And I very much hope that you, Yoishi-san, will contribute to our cause."

The conversation itself continued for another thirty minutes, during which they discussed the terms of the employment contract and the possible work schedule. Yoishi himself was surprised and pleased to land such a profitable job.

The following week after signing the contract, he was taken to the laboratory complex. The first day was mostly devoted to familiarizing himself with his duties and the workplace. The complex itself is located in one of Tokyo's special districts, surrounded by a concrete wall with a security checkpoint, and the building looks like an unremarkable concrete box. However, the interior could surprise a casual visitor with its brightness and sterile cleanliness, divided by steel bulkheads, and someone more familiar with science would notice the advanced measuring and computing equipment.

After completing his orientation, Miura received a first-level access pass out of a possible three and was registered in the local database.

Over the next six months of work, Yoishi mainly observed the animals provided, recorded data from measuring instruments, performed calculations, and organized the information. Since the appearance of Quirks, doctors had to study fields of zoology that were previously mostly in demand only in veterinary medicine, because many Quirk users have bodies with signs and properties of animals. Therefore, Miura did not feel lost in this field, even though he had initially planned to work primarily with people.

He became very interested in the drugs that changed animal bodies sometimes to absurd and grotesque degrees, though he wisely refrained from asking questions about them. He did not meet Doctor Takahashi very often. On those occasions, the doctor mostly talked about medical ethics, the importance of research, the history of the first attempts to study Quirks. At some point, as if he had decided something for himself, he was offered the position of Akayo-san's personal assistant and introduced to a man whose face was hidden behind a medical mask.

"Yoishi-kun, I want to introduce you to the owner of a truly unique and incredibly useful Quirk for our affairs. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you his name, but you can call him 'Notary.' His Quirk is called 'Contract'…"

As it turned out, his Quirk amusingly resembled the "Unbreakable Vow," an unbreakable oath from the Harry Potter novels, which were popular even in the era before Quirks. The Quirk only works once per person. The condition that the target agrees to must not contradict their personal principles, exceed a certain volume, or be too complex to understand. After shaking hands with "Notary" and agreeing to "comply with the terms of the non-disclosure agreement," the Quirk activated, and Miura took note of the impossibility of ever forcing himself to reveal any information about his work.

Miura agreed to such suspicious conditions because he believed that when an opportunity appears before you, you must seize it, and only those who take risks can achieve more.

However, after learning what was being studied at the next access level, Yoishi began to worry about the serious potential problems for him. Big money and the chance to advance science were fine, but not when you fear the appearance of some hero or, God forbid, All Might, and your research subjects and test subjects are people, especially children.

[End Pov]

The young black-haired man sighed sadly and finished his simple breakfast, prepared hastily. After quickly dressing and getting into his recently purchased car, he drove to work. He could not be late today, because a new batch of material was arriving soon.

Chapter 3: Sleep

Waking up was hard. My whole body was numb, and there was an unfamiliar weight on my neck. As my eyes pried themselves open, I saw an unfamiliar white ceiling with light fixtures and an inconspicuous camera in the corner. Touching the object on my neck and identifying it as a collar, I began to examine my apparent new place of residence more carefully. I hoped it would not be for long. Still, there was not much to see.

The well-lit white room, five by five meters and three meters high, contained a bed, a door leading to a toilet with a sink, and a transparent wall with a door that offered a "wonderful" view of an unremarkable light concrete wall across the way. Trying to distract myself from dark thoughts by examining my surroundings did not help much.

Judging by the fact that the people from the orphanage handed me over to these people, they either skillfully deceived the administration or have good connections and arranged everything in advance. In the first case, my disappearance might be discovered in a few days, and the police would be called in to search for me. In the second case, no one would look for me. I have no friends or good acquaintances. And who cares about or needs a seven-year-old Quirkless orphan named Ken Kayoshi, with both parents still alive?

Of course, there is still hope that heroes might appear who could take an interest in child abductors, but that would only happen when they find out these abductors exist and where they are.

Damn.

Maybe I do have a Quirk after all, and its name is "Misfortune," judging by the turns my life has taken. Dad left, Mom stopped paying attention to me, and then I was taken away from her altogether. No sooner had I come to terms with that in the orphanage than I was kidnapped.

Drip.

I, I, I do not know what to do. I have nothing. What do they even want with me? They are not going to run experiments on me like those third-rate villains from old comics, are they?

Drip.

Why is this happening? Because I am Quirkless? If I had a strong Quirk, I would be with Mom and Dad, watching videos of All Might, thinking about how I would get into the hero course, maybe even U.A. Academy itself?

Drip.

I looked at the transparent wall and in the unclear reflection saw a skinny boy with disheveled black hair and streams of tears — myself. Weak, small, worthless. This sight startled me and stirred anger. At myself, my weakness, at these people who kidnapped me.

The sound of footsteps interrupted my angry thoughts. I quickly wiped away my tears and began to wait. Soon, two men in white coats wheeled a gurney past my cell, carrying a boy tightly strapped down with unusual belts. Something about him struck me as odd. But more of my attention was drawn to the man who stopped near my cell, holding a tablet. Dressed in a medical coat and mask, the brown-haired man created the image of the most ordinary, stereotypical doctor, the kind you would forget within a minute of seeing him in a hospital. But his evaluating, cold gaze made me uneasy.

"So, test subject number twenty three, Ken Kayoshi. Let me inform you that for the entire time you are here, you will be an object of research and must obey us. I have been assigned to monitor your condition and conduct interviews about your well being…"

He spoke in a monotonous, bored voice, as if performing a tiresome but necessary duty.

"…you must answer questions clearly and honestly. Some experiments require you to remain conscious. One is scheduled for tomorrow morning. If you disobey orders, act unruly, stay silent, ask unnecessary questions, you will be punished. Here is an example of punishment."

During his speech, he took out a "remote control" and pressed a button. From the sudden shock of electricity and pain, I fell to the floor. With bulging eyes and convulsions throughout my body, I tried to breathe. The disappearance of the pain and current gave me the chance to exhale in relief and breathe heavily.

"Address me as Doctor-san. I will come to you before and after each experiment for questioning. That is all. Prepare yourself and be an obedient boy."

After he left, I still lay there breathing heavily, staring at the spot where that "Doctor-san" had stood. My mind was blank. Only five minutes later did I realize what had seemed strange about that boy. When they were wheeling him, his head with open eyes was turned toward me. There were no thoughts or emotions in his eyes, not even pain. They were like glass.

Minutes, hours, days, weeks — all of it blended into one unending stream of experiments, interviews, pain, fear, reproaches at my own weakness, and despair. With each experiment, injection, operation, and meal they gave me, I felt my body subtly change.

The first few days after the experiments, I felt nothing except a slight malaise. The man in the white coat asked me questions about how I felt in my limbs, during movement, any unusual sensations, headaches. I hoped and waited for a chance to escape or for heroes to come. I tried to ask questions about this place, but got silence or punishment. For experiments, I was put to sleep and woke up either strapped tightly to an operating table or immediately after the operation.

I suppressed the panic by devising escape plans, thinking about who had kidnapped me, recalling school lessons, heroes and their Quirks. About who that boy was, and whether anyone would look for him.

But gradually I felt worse. After operations, the pain in my body lingered longer. I began to feel nauseous, my thoughts became drowsy, and I felt cold. I told the man with the cold gaze about this and asked what was happening to me. He only recorded my words and asked more questions. His gaze remained as cold as on our first meeting. Hatred for him began to grow inside me.

Because of the uncertainty, terror paralyzed my thoughts, and my insides felt frozen. My screams, curses, demands, pleas only shook the air uselessly. Time dragged on. I no longer believed the heroes would come, and even if they did, it would be too late. I, I want to escape from here. Back to Mom and Dad, to make everything go back to how it was and how it should be. My thoughts became tangled and repetitive, and the experiments and monotony of the cell only made things worse.

Several days passed. Or not? I do not know how long I sleep after experiments, and there is no calendar or clock in my cell. Sometimes the man with the cold gaze would mention the time, but it seemed he was mostly reminding himself out loud.

I am tired of being afraid. I just lay on the bed and stared blankly upward. How I want to fall asleep and wake up at home. For all this to be just a nightmare, not reality. It was disgusting to look at my own body, which had begun to break out in sores. They itched terribly, but the man with the cold gaze ordered me not to touch them. After two "punishments" when I could not stand it, I learned better to ignore them.

Several more days, weeks, or months passed? It does not matter. Today I had a good dream. Maybe I should finish it? Yes. That is better than thinking again, worrying, and waiting for the man with the cold eyes. Better to sleep and forget everything for a short while.

Chapter 4: Hunger

[Yoishi Miura's Pov ]

The research was not going very successfully, in Miura's opinion. Although some new data were quite interesting and could be useful in other studies, the ultimate goal of this research was still far off and required new resources.

In fact, when he was informed upon receiving second level access about the samples and the purpose of the research, Miura's first reactions were fear and quiet panic, though he carefully hid this behind an expressionless face. Then came thinking through the situation, possible prospects, and ways to get out of this affair. That the test subjects would be people worried him more because of the potential risks to his freedom and health from both hero society and his employers. Yoishi understood that in such matters, witnesses were not usually left alive, and the "contract" on him was not a guarantee of safety. Quirks varied, and the chance of bypassing the "contract" was by no means zero. But in any case, there was risk, and judging by the resources allocated to this research and the equipment available to far from all citizens, government people were involved. He hoped that useful and promising employees would not be disposed of.

The project's goal itself was to enhance people's physical properties and also to test the possibility of altering a Quirk for that enhancement. As it turned out, such research had already been conducted elsewhere, but the resulting specimens were either incapable of independent thought or excessively aggressive. To solve this problem, a proposal was made to prepare bodies for such sharp enhancement and to attempt to alter the subject's Quirk for this purpose. If earlier Miura would not have believed this possible, since the phenomenon of Quirks was depressingly understudied, after conversations with Takahashi and other researchers, as well as access to some of David Shield's research, he was no longer so categorical.

What Shield created, judging by the scant information about the "Quirk Amplifier," could have changed a great deal. The very possibility of enhancing a person's Quirk to a level exceeding that of professional heroes would dramatically shift the balance of power in the world. Therefore, it was unsurprising that the project was shut down and classified. Fortunately, Miura's superiors managed to obtain some data.

His further thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an alarm.

"Code three. Code three. All personnel must remain in the nearest rooms with locking systems."

The code itself meant that one of the test subjects had escaped from their cell. The nearest room to where Yoishi was processing analysis results was the observation room, as well as the location of the terminal controlling all systems on the first and second access levels, which included the aboveground floors and three underground floors. Quickly running into the not yet locked room, he wanted to ask who had escaped, but froze in fascination.

The room itself had several workstations with computers, but at that moment all the scientists and lab assistants were silently watching the main monitor, which showed an enlarged image of the corridor near the test subject cells.

In the middle of the corridor hung two figures. A lab assistant, dressed in work uniform with a mask on his face, kicked desperately in the hands of a dark creature that firmly held him by the head. The creature's entire silhouette was covered in a substance that emanated from it like steam and disappeared into the air. It was dark with small violet iridescences, making it impossible to discern its appearance. But at that moment, the most attention was drawn to the colorful streams of energy that left the increasingly feebly kicking figure of the lab assistant and entered the creature. This process mesmerized with its otherworldly beauty and subconsciously evoked quiet horror.

Miura snapped out of it at the moment when the body fell with a dull thud, and the small silhouette of the creature that had lowered itself to the floor headed for the door blocked by steel shutters.

The next ten minutes turned into a nightmare for the research complex staff. The creature, or as Miura had already figured out, test subject number twenty three, passed through objects and killed with a touch, with the interval for this absorption process becoming shorter and shorter. Bullets from the arriving security passed right through its body, and the security chief did not even have time to use his Quirk before the creature was quickly beside him and grabbed him by the throat.

But at the moment when the creature, having killed everyone on the second underground floor, headed to the next one, the strange substance emanating from it began to intermittently release, to the point that some parts of its body were visible. It began to shake and quickly turn its head. It took several steps toward the wall and disappeared into it in the familiar way, only without reappearing elsewhere. At that moment, Miura was sincerely glad that he had not been on that floor at that exact time.

[Yoishi Miura's Pov End ]

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I had not been able to sleep well for a long time, not since Dad left. The best I could manage was to pass out without dreams, because they were always troubled. It was sad, because I remembered having good, peaceful dreams in the past. I had no good dreams right up until today.

Though it did not start very well, because at first I felt a powerful hunger. It was driving me mad, until I sensed something very tasty and appetizing. The whole world seemed to me like various shades of black and obstacles, but for me there were no obstacles, as I later understood. But that did not bother me, because I could see that tasty, appetizing, bright cluster in the shape of a person.

I grabbed him, but I did not immediately figure out how to eat him properly. I stretched out the process of eating him for as long as possible, enjoying the indescribable feeling of satiety and the unusual taste. After finishing my meal, I felt a slight sadness, until I realized that there were several of these clusters, but they were not all in one place. Then I finally understood — they were playing hide and seek. And I was "it." But they probably did not know that I could see them. Though that did not matter. I had not played hide and seek in a long time. It was fun. It was like unwrapping a gift, passing through obstacles to reach them, and a tasty treat awaited me, almost always with a different flavor.

I did come across clusters that thought they were "it," but I quickly showed them that there was only one "it" here, and it was not them. One of them was especially good, standing out with the brightness of his light against the others. I could not resist grabbing him first. After that, I decided to finish with the nearest clusters and head for the ones that were higher up.

Walking through the black corridor with different shades of darkness, I enjoyed this feeling of satiety. How wonderful it was, the main thing was not to remember that this was a dream and that my real body was lying in my cell with those disgusting sterile white walls, just like in this corri…dor. The walls had imperceptibly changed from black to that disgusting color. The sounds of an alarm began to reach my ears. This was returning to my usual nightmare. Soon I would be strapped to an operating table again.

No, no, no, no.

This is my dream. I do not want it to end like that. I will simply leave here. Yes, yes, yes, yes. This is my dream. I can do whatever I want, so I will pass through this wall, and they will not find me. Hahahahaha.

I walked through the darkness. Sometimes I felt like I was moving through some kind of pipes. I did not know how much time had passed or where I was even going. But I began to feel tired for some reason. So I decided to head upward. Soon I found myself in an alley near a pile of garbage, but that did not bother me. All the feelings in my body told me that this was not a dream. All my attention was focused on one thing — the sky. The night, cloudless sky with stars barely visible due to the city lights. At that moment, it was more beautiful than ever and filled me with a feeling of freedom.

Chapter: 5 Alleys

I just wanted to stand there, looking at the sky, thinking about nothing, and breathing this dirty, smog filled air. But I had to move. I needed a place to hide, new clothes, and food.

Over the next several hours, I had to hide, search for the right stores and warehouses, and frantically learn and use my unexpectedly awakened Quirk. Moving quickly through the alleys, I tried to sense my Quirk more clearly. I tried to bring back that feeling of the surrounding space and of what had been emanating from me during that state. And there was a result, pitiful compared to before, but there was one.

That substance, it was inside me, flowing through my limbs, but it could not leave my body. When I tried to pass through a stone wall, the substance began to pulse at a certain rhythm inside my body. It was interesting, but I had no time for further experiments. It worked, and that was fine. Most importantly, it allowed me to break into a closed children's clothing store. I looked unsightly at the time, in stained white clothes issued by those medics, and with my head wrapped in some strange rag in case there were cameras. There I changed clothes and took a cleaner rag. The food store went similarly.

Finding a place to sleep was more problematic. I managed to find an empty warehouse with some tools, but I did not want to sleep on a bare concrete floor. I had to search for a nearby empty apartment, from which I could take a blanket and a quilt for my makeshift bed.

Settling in and quickly eating the stolen food, I lay down to sleep. Or rather, I tried to, because I started shaking with chills. The fear that they would find me and lock me back in my cell drove me forward and gave me strength all that time, but once I relaxed, exhaustion and confusion overwhelmed me.

Thoughts raced feverishly through my head, and it seemed that with a little more, steam would start coming out of it. I was full of doubt, analyzing and criticizing my actions, and thinking about what I wanted and what I was capable of. My first desire after escaping was to find the nearest hero or police station and tell them everything. Then a question appeared in my head: "What next?"

Well, I would tell them that I had escaped from some laboratory where they experimented on children. I would describe the appearance of that mustachioed kidnapper. Unfortunately, all the staff in the lab I had seen were wearing medical masks and identical coats. They would shake their heads, express their regret, and assure me they would find the kidnappers. Then they would send me to an orphanage, and a couple of weeks later, an orphan with an interesting Quirk would disappear. It was hard to believe in the law when I was kidnapped practically from the doorstep of an orphanage. So this organization had connections. I needed to hide from them, gather my strength, and kill them. I hated them as much as I feared them. I should have killed (absorbed) them all in that state. They were a threat (so tasty).

Stop.

Staring at my hands, I tried to stop the shaking. They were my kidnappers, so I did not feel sorry for them. But the main thing was that I had killed, and I had enjoyed it. As soon as my Quirk awakened, my first action was to grab the nearest person and absorb his life, savoring the whole process. A great start to a villain's career. Yes, I know that heroes can kill villains in extreme cases, though society condemns it. But they do not enjoy it. And excuses like "I was not myself" would not work — that is just self deception. It seems that with or without a Quirk, I could never become a hero. No one needs a hero who enjoys killing.

Well, to hell with that. No one saved me. I saved myself. I can only rely on myself and my own strength. And if to achieve my goals I need to become a villain, then I will become one.

***

In a deserted warehouse on the edge of the city, a boy wrapped in a blanket made himself comfortable and closed his eyes, hoping to lose himself in sleep, if only for a short while.

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Four years later.

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Night began to fall over the districts of Japan's capital, Tokyo. While for ordinary citizens this meant the long awaited end of the workday and the imminent return home, for entertainment establishments and people with criminal records, it was only the beginning of their "work shift." Perhaps the current state of the criminal world could not compare in influence and size to what it had been before the appearance of All Might, but as long as there was profit, it would continue to exist, luring both new "workers" and victims into its web.

A group of five young people walked laughing down one of the empty alleys. The leader, judging by the fawning behavior, was a blond dressed in a leather jacket and blue jeans, who at that moment was telling a funny story from his latest drinking binge. That was until one of his listeners, with scaly hands, noticed a child standing in the middle of the alley.

"Hey, brat, you lost or something? I think it's time for you to go running to your mommy. So get lost while we're still being nice."

Stopping, the guys looked with interest and mockery at the kid, expecting him to run away in fright. However, ignoring the scaly guy, the boy in a hoodie looked intently at the blond and, after a second, said:

"You are the villain 'Dissolver' Yakushi, right?"

These words made Yakushi and the others frown. At every robbery, he carefully disguised himself, and his Quirk, which allowed him to dissolve non living objects, was carefully hidden in everyday life. He even managed, with some outside help, to change its description in the state database. So being recognized by some unknown child was an unpleasant surprise.

"Guys, grab the kid. He knows too much. And you, boy, do not resist. Uncles need to have a thorough talk with you."

Yakushi said, looking with a cold gaze into the boy's red eyes and feeling a strange unease. When the henchman next to him, with bony eyebrows, headed toward the kid, he quickly looked back, fearing an ambush. But the sound of a falling body quickly brought his attention back, and the sight of a knife handle protruding from the henchman's eye socket made him jump back and reach for the pistol under his arm.

At that moment, the three other guys who had hesitated for an instant rushed at the red eyed boy. The first to strike from the right was the guy with scales on his hands, but the boy smoothly dodged to the left side, ducked under his arm, and with a sharp motion cut the axillary vein with a knife in his hand. One of the remaining two attacked with a knife in his hand, while the other clasped his palms together in a prayerful gesture.

The knife wielder stared in shock as his opponent's hand, harmlessly passing through the knife, grabbed and yanked his leading hand aside. Then he convulsively clutched his cut throat. The remaining man, no longer paying attention to his whimpering comrade with blood flowing from his armpit, spread his arms toward the boy who had suddenly become deadly. A cone shaped stream of fire engulfed one side of the alley. The screech of the burning man died almost immediately.

The fire Quirk user breathed convulsively, ready to confirm the enemy's death or finish him off. The sudden sound of a falling body made him spin around sharply. Yakushi, who had been waiting for an opportunity to shoot, lay unconscious, and the short silhouette was already aiming a pistol at him. Trying to quickly clasp his palms together, the boy cried out as he clutched his shot wrist.

The boy approaching him suddenly spoke.

"That was close. I did not expect your Quirk to be that strong. Judging by your past condition, you can launch at most two attacks of that power. But it does not matter. Your name is Denki, right? What I am about to do, you will not like. If you were not a thug, none of this would have happened. But History doesn't allow for 'what ifs'."

The red eyed boy spoke and grabbed him by the throat. Denki, who wanted to push him away, felt weakness and cold wash over his entire body. He stared in fear at the bright, colorful streams of energy, like rivers of paint, entering this… this monster. The last thing Denki saw before his vision was swallowed by darkness were the crimson, indifferent eyes.

Chapter 6: Daily Life

I looked with disgust at the body of the man I had just killed after interrogating him. Yakushi. That idiot, despite being careful about his disguise, had been acting too arrogantly over the past couple of months. Not only did he and his gang of imbeciles rob practically the same district over and over, they had also killed several ordinary people. When a robbery has no casualties, it usually only attracts the attention of heroes who care about publicity and money. In other words, the weaklings and the trash of the hero industry. But when people die, more serious players can show up, like Nighteye or Eraserhead. And in really unpleasant cases, vigilantes might appear.

Vigilantes are a problem. Not only are they experienced fighters, since the very fact that they hunt villains while hiding from the police and heroes proves their strength, but they also are not afraid to get their hands dirty. And some of them are not right in the head. I once saw Stain from a distance when he was killing another drug dealer. I never wanted to see him again.

Enough.

I have been getting lost in my thoughts too often lately. I must have picked up the habit from an acquaintance. The main thing is not to start muttering.

After glancing around the empty alley and listening carefully, I confirmed there were no witnesses. I grabbed my hidden backpack. It almost got burned by that Denki. I changed into spare clothes and stuffed the bloodied ones into the backpack. I checked the area one more time and headed to where this group of imbeciles had stashed their money. At least there was some use from them. Double profit, really. The local "businessman" who paid me to get rid of these noisy guys did not want to attract the attention of the authorities or heroes to this district.

It was a shame there were not more idiots like them. I could have made more money, and more importantly, I could have strengthened my Quirk and uncovered more of its potential.

I pulled my hood tighter over my head and quickened my pace, walking along streets with few passersby. In the first months after gaining my freedom, I got tired of the constant questions from kind hearted strangers and police officers: "Why are you out so late, little guy?" and "Where are your parents, boy?" I had to improvise, make up all sorts of lies, like claiming I had a Quirk called "Eternal Youth." In extreme cases, I simply ran away.

Back then, I frequently changed where I slept because many people wanted to catch the thief who could walk through walls. It was during that period that I killed a man for the first time after my escape. Believing I was untouchable, I decided to steal money right from under the noses of some villains. One of them managed to grab my hand.

As far as I understand, my Quirk allows me to create and manipulate a substance that exists inside my body since my Quirk awakened. I pompously named this substance, and my Quirk along with it, "Dark Matter."

One of its properties lets me somehow affect the space of my own body and a small area around it. This allows me to choose what can touch my body and what cannot. But this powerful ability has a serious limitation: I cannot pass through Quirk users or attacks that are imbued with Quirk energy. Either it is fundamentally impossible, or I am not strong enough yet.

Back then, that did not bother me.

The villain's eyes were bloodshot and wild from the chase. He stared into mine. His hand, covered in fur like a monkey's, squeezed my arm until I felt my bones creak slightly. Panic and horror washed over me at the thought of being caught and sent back to that laboratory. The thought of the man with the cold eyes asking me his questions again. I wanted to scream and cry, but more than anything, I wanted death for the one who had threatened my freedom.

A sudden movement toward the villain instead of away from him made him hesitate for a fraction of a second. That was enough for me to sink my teeth into his throat. Images of the past flashing through my mind made me clench my jaw even harder. A sharp blow to the side sent me flying two meters back and snapped me out of it. Forgetting about the money, my legs carried me away from there. The metallic taste in my mouth and the memory of involuntarily swallowing a piece of his neck were disgusting. Only two blocks later, in a back alley, I allowed myself to empty my stomach.

From then on, I became more cautious and tried to better understand what had happened.

Claustrophobia: The fear of being trapped. That was the answer I found in a search engine. It glowed brightly on the cracked screen of a smartphone I had "borrowed" from a villain. Quite ironic, given my Quirk, since the only thing that could stop me was someone getting a firm grip on my body. Well, knowing that something was wrong with my head was better than not knowing. Even if it caused problems later.

I noticed police officers running toward the alley with the corpses. I ducked into the nearest back alley and hid behind a dumpster. It seemed they had not seen me. I did not want to answer questions about what a twelve year old was doing out so late at night. I told myself that when all of this was over, I would lie low for a few months, rest in my hideout, and focus more on training and education.

Everything was much easier now than during my first year of "nomadic" life after escaping from that place. I was lucky to run into an information broker named Giran. Or maybe he allowed me to find him. I am still not sure. For money and for completing certain tasks, I was able to obtain information, some goods, and services. For example, I had to spend all the money I had saved over a year and a half on proper identification documents and a middle school diploma, which I supposedly completed early. That stingy bastard. Damn. Why did I even remember the exact amount of money I spent? I only ruined my mood.

The main thing is that thanks to Giran's connections, I managed to find trainers who did not ask unnecessary questions. There, I was taught combat techniques, knife handling, and firearms. And there were sparring matches. Many sparring matches. I literally beamed with joy when I gave my trainer a black eye thanks to his ignorance of my Quirk and the element of surprise. Well, that smile faded quickly once the trainer got serious.

The man was quite a character. Bald, dark skinned, built like a tank, nearly six foot five, with a vertical scar across his left eye and a face like stone. He only spoke about business. Any desire to ask about his life or anything other than training disappeared under his direct gaze. I think the joke about "a fork in the eye or in the ass" during our first meeting was unnecessary.

I also discovered new properties of Dark Matter. It passively enhances all of my physical attributes. And this enhancement is closely tied to how fit my body is. For example, if I trained my strength up to a certain level, then my Quirk gives me a certain boost. If I trained it higher, the boost is higher. These conclusions are frustratingly simplified, but for precise measurements I would need equipment that I have neither the desire nor the money to buy or rent.

So, this seems to be the right entrance, according to what Yakushi told me. This building could really use some major renovations. Still, it does not matter. I will grab the money from the stash in this villain's apartment. That "Dissolver" turned out to be a complete disappointment in combat, and I doubt I will ever need to come here again.

There is the money. Toss it in my backpack and head to my rented apartment. Everything else can wait until tomorrow.

How wonderful it is to sleep in my own bed, not on the floor or on boxes. Although, I once spent the night in a furniture store. I had to run pretty fast the next morning. But it was fun to see the salesperson's shocked face when he found me awake on a king sized bed.

Chapter 7: Hated by Life

Two days had passed since the death of the villain called Dissolver and his gang. After sending proof of the job in the form of photos, I received my payment from the businessman's middleman. I spent those days resting.

Searching for Yakushi had worn me down. He worked in the same district, but he picked completely different targets every time. And despite all his caution, he got caught in the dumbest way possible. He got drunk at a bar, fell asleep at a table, accidentally dissolved part of the table, and crashed to the floor. When I was asking around for leads on Dissolver, I heard about this incident from a cursing bartender. I decided to check it out. Yakushi was a regular there. In short, it was stupid.

Anyway. I decided to listen to music and wait for my acquaintance to arrive.

I sat on a bench near the park and scrolled through a Hatsune Miku album on my new smartphone, looking for a song I had not heard before. My eyes stopped on one title: "Inochi ni Kirawarete iru." Translated, it means "Hated by Life." Heh.

My gaze drifted over the buildings and people around me.

The song started playing. The lyrics spoke of not caring about one's own death but feeling sad when others die. They talked about breathing indifference, about hating everything, about how "let's be friends" was the most hypocritical phrase. The news on a nearby TV reported a brutal murder in the city of Hoshu.

The song continued. It described an empty wallet, loneliness, childhood fading away. The singer said that if she became immortal, she did not know if she could truly live. Then the news anchor's voice cut through the music: "I regret to inform you that Aika Kayoshi passed away three months ago."

My mother. I had searched for her once.

A smirk stretched across my lips. Something inside responded with an unfamiliar feeling. The song said that life hates us each time. That the singer wanted to say goodbye to it all. But at the end, she said she still wanted to live, desperately clinging to life, because you are alive.

A loud noise made me look up.

A group of four students stood out from the crowd. Two of them were smirking at a fallen boy with green hair who was clearly panicking. The last of the four, a blond with a face like a villain, was saying something to him. When he finished, he walked away with his two lackeys.

I sighed, stood up, and walked over to the boy who was brushing off his pants.

"Izuku, I understand this is between you and Bakugo, but this behavior is really annoying. If you always let him bully you, nothing good will come of it."

Midoriya's eyes went wide. It was actually kind of funny.

"Hi, Ken San! I did not expect you to be here already. As for Kacchan, he is just in a bad mood today."

I looked at him skeptically and decided to change the subject. He could deal with his own problems. I was not his babysitter.

"Fine. By the way, I have told you many times that you can drop the honorifics. We have known each other for a long time. And you said you found a good place to train. Are we going there today?"

Midoriya's eyes lit up with excitement. He nodded quickly.

"Yes, Ken! It is a great place to train. A beach on the outskirts of the city. It used to be very popular. But I went there yesterday to check it out, and I saw that it is completely covered in trash. But cleaning it up can be part of the training. As the American hero 'Master in a Tank Top' said, 'Any intense work can be turned into a workout.' Oh, sorry, I need to go home and get some spare clothes. And did you see the morning news about…"

I listened to Midoriya ramble as we walked toward his house. I started to remember how we had first met.

It was about a year and a half ago near the site of a fight between a hero and a villain. I think the hero was Death Arms, and the villain had the head of a bull. I was amused by the resemblance to the Minotaur from Greek myths. But the fight quickly became boring. I decided to look at the crowd that had gathered. Some people were even eating hamburgers." Panem et circenses" Bread and circuses. Centuries pass, but people never change.

Then I noticed a boy quickly writing something in a notebook. Out of curiosity, I walked up to him and asked what he was doing. He began listing Death Arms's characteristics, the strengths and weaknesses of his Quirk, and the same for his opponent. I was a little overwhelmed by his intensity. But I kept talking to him, and later, as he panicked, we exchanged contact information on social media.

Over time, we talked often. We discussed his analyses of heroes and villains. At first, I was surprised by his constant energy and his complete lack of self confidence.

Then I learned that he had no Quirk.

For a moment, I felt lost. I wondered if I could have become like him. Then I realized that we were different. He had kept his naivety and his belief in his dream of becoming a hero. I could not have done that. Even back then, I did not believe I could become a hero. I was studying support course materials, telling myself that was what I wanted.

Shame over my own weak will made me want to sink through the floor. But my decision to support Midoriya came immediately. I knew he did not need pity or sympathy. He needed someone to believe in him and his dreams. I was not sure I wanted him to become a hero, and I was not even sure he could succeed. But I decided to support him, because no one had ever supported me.

"We are here, Ken."

I shook off my thoughts and looked ahead. We were standing at the top of a stone staircase. Below us was a beach covered in mountains of trash, broken machines, and old furniture.

But my eyes were not on the garbage. They were on the sea.

Slowly rocking waves shimmered with the sun's reflections, evoking something warm and bright. A light breeze cooled the air after the warm day.

I looked again at the trash filled beach and thought that by cleaning it up, I might become a little like the hero I had once wanted to be.

Chapter 8: Training

"Come on, Izuku. We only have five more meters to drag this refrigerator, and we will have completed today's quota."

I shouted to Midoriya, who was covered in sweat and could barely move his legs. I hoped he would not overexert himself. That would be an unfortunate outcome for this training session.

"Just a moment, Ken. Ha. Just a little more. Let me catch my breath."

One week had passed since we started cleaning up this beach. Of course, first we cleared a space for warm up exercises and stretches. Dragging away trash would increase our physical strength and endurance, but not our speed or agility. So before each cleaning session, we went for a run, followed by stretching exercises.

I had been through training before and knew how to properly distribute my workload. Midoriya, on the other hand, could be wrung out like a wet rag. I often had to stop him from overloading himself, and then drag him back to his house. But this time, it seemed he would be able to walk on his own.

I looked at Izuku, who was lying spread eagle on the ground after finally dragging that refrigerator to the pile. Well, hope dies last.

"Here."

"Thanks."

Izuku caught the water bottle I threw to him and drank from it greedily. Over the course of our training and discussions, he had become more confident. It was a shame not confident enough to tell Bakugo to go to hell.

I was really puzzled by the relationship between those two. I could understand that Midoriya did not want to fight back because of his inferiority complex. But why did that Kacchan keep picking on Midoriya for years? That I did not understand. Maybe the way he said the nickname "Kacchan" kept him in a state similar to someone who had taken Trigger.

It was actually fun to tease him. The look of sacred horror on the faces of those around him and his reactions were especially amusing. Katsuki was so used to the respectful attitude of others that the slightest teasing threw him into confusion and provoked aggression because he did not know how to respond.

So, our first official meeting ended with him chasing me, trying to blow me up with his nitroglycerin sweat, and me laughing nonstop. I could not decide what was funnier: Kacchan's red face, ready to explode anything and screaming "Die!", or the sight of Izuku standing off to the side, looking like his worldview had just been shaken.

This time with Izuku had lifted some weight off my shoulders, relaxed me a little. But I did not forget my main goal, which was to become strong enough to destroy my enemies when the opportunity arose.

Over the years, I had not actively searched for that laboratory or the organization behind it. My strength was still too weak to confront them, let alone destroy them. So I tried to hide one ability of my Quirk, or rather a property of Dark Matter.

Dark Matter itself flows steadily through my body and pulses when I use it to pass through objects. I even named this ability "Choice," because I can choose what can touch me and what cannot. But the situation changes when I try to release it from my body. It becomes extremely aggressive, first trying to absorb everything around me, even the air. If that fails, it tries to distort or destroy.

I cannot use this in combat because it requires too much concentration. But the benefit outweighs the drawback. Any person's energy can be absorbed and assimilated, albeit with some loss, by Dark Matter. And the stronger the person's Quirk, the higher the efficiency.

What drove me to use absorption was that the amount of Dark Matter I would have gained from that guy with the fire Quirk would have taken me two years of ordinary training to achieve, based on rough calculations. And the more Dark Matter I have, the less energy I spend using it, and the higher the passive enhancement of my body becomes.

For a while, I was afraid that they might find me because of the known ability of "Choice," which I had presented as my Quirk. So I found out that while such an ability is rare, it is by no means unique.

Midoriya, whom I was now dragging home, would probably be horrified by how many people I had killed and how many I planned to kill. Even if they were all villains, criminals, drug dealers, and rapists, that did not change the fact that I am a killer who kills for power and my own well being.

Therefore, Izuku is only an acquaintance of mine. It would be hypocritical to call someone a friend when I cannot trust them with my secret.

"Good evening, Midoriya san. We are back from training. Izuku is a little tired, and so am I."

"Hello, Ken kun. I have prepared dinner for you. So sit down and eat with us. It is so good that Izuku finally has friends."

Midoriya Inko, a pleasant, slightly plump woman, moved actively around the kitchen, talking quickly and expressively. I think I understood which parent Izuku got his emotional nature and habit of gesticulating from. Rice, meat miso soup, and steamed vegetables began to appear on the table. Knowing that arguing was useless, I sat down. Besides, I genuinely liked Midoriya san's cooking.

Questions about family were a problem, though. I had to lie about living with relatives. Sometimes I felt sad about how easily lies and hiding the truth came to me.

"Thank you, Midoriya san. Sorry for any inconvenience. I have to go home now. My uncle asked me to help him with something. So goodbye. See you later, Izuku."

"Come again, Ken kun."

"See you, Ken. And… thank you for helping me train. I am glad to have a friend like you."

Izuku said this with a bright smile. In return, I gave my usual friendly smile, slightly narrowing my eyes.

"You are welcome, Izuku. I was happy to help you."

After saying goodbye, I left the home of this small but wonderful family. I sometimes even felt envious when I saw the relationship between mother and son. But it was more of a white envy. I had long accepted my situation. And I had no intention of giving up on my goals.

I walked toward the bar where Giran had asked me to come after sending me a message earlier today. I could have refused. I had paid him everything I owed him, that stingy bastard. But I did not want to lose the potential to earn money, gain experience, and increase my strength. After all, a large portion of the villains I had killed and absorbed were found thanks to him.

Even though he benefits from villains for his business, those who are too violent, uncontrollable, and openly disruptive usually disappear. So there is not much difference if they disappear with my help. I felt like a villain from old comic books who pretends to be a good, upstanding citizen during the day and becomes a serial killer at night. A life turned into an endless game of masks and walking on the edge of a knife.

"Hold it right there, kid. We need to ask you something. Our friends here saw you steal their stuff. As compensation, we will be taking everything you have on you. Any objections?"

Two men of an obviously thuggish appearance stopped in front of me, and a third began approaching from behind. I thoughtfully examined the thugs, remembering which district I was in and whether there were any hero patrols nearby.

I took off my backpack, holding it in my hands, flashed a bright smile, and said:

"Yes, I have objections."

I threw the backpack at the first two. I held my breath, made my entire body permeable to air, and drove a knife into the eye of the approaching opponent with a spinning kick. I drew another knife, leaving the first in the corpse. I turned toward the remaining two future corpses. My smile widened.

"You know, moments like these in a villain's life are starting to grow on me."

Chapter 9: The Offer

[Giran's POV ]

Arms dealer, smuggler, racketeer, successful businessman, informant, broker, and simply a "good" and principled man. That is the answer a person would get if they asked Kagerou Okuta to describe himself in the briefest possible terms. Of course, only if that person actually pleased the man known in the criminal underworld as Giran.

Such thoughts and dozens of others floated through the consciousness of the lazy, cigarette smoking "good" man as he waited in one of his favorite bars. He was calmly relaxing, slowly tuning himself for the work ahead.

After all, he could not afford to relax for long periods very often, given his lifestyle. In the criminal world, few people can allow themselves to unwind for long without the risk of ending up dead or behind bars. Especially a broker like him.

If he thought about it, Giran had already saved up enough money that he could shift to safer ways of earning money without his personal involvement. His sharp intellect would allow him to run a successful business. And the chance of running into heroes would drop sharply. No matter how good heroes are in real combat, their battles against corruption and bureaucracy do not go well. A few bribes to some officials, blackmail with compromising information on another, one frame up of an overly curious hero followed by notifying journalists, and suddenly that hero is no longer interested in a modest businessman.

That would be the correct move and much safer for him.

But Giran did not want that. The decision did not sit well with him, and he did not think he would achieve anything more than just adding more zeroes to the numbers in his bank account. While he prided himself on his intellect and life experience, he considered his most important and most useful skill, acquired over the course of a very turbulent life, to be his ability to assess people. Their potential, their character, their quirks and inclinations.

After talking face to face, the broker could tell whether he should deal with a person or whether he should avoid them entirely. This was the reason he had stayed afloat when smarter and luckier men had lost their lives or their freedom. He liked finding interesting people and predicting their future achievements. And also directing them along the path that suited him. Of course, he had his failures, but who has not made mistakes in life?

And now he was waiting for the arrival of a very interesting young talent. Unfortunately, information about him was scarce.

Ken Hoshino, formerly Ken Kayoshi, known in the criminal world as Ticci Micc. Giran had racked his brain for a long time trying to figure out why he had chosen that particular "working" name, until he found an old manga from before the era of Quirks called D.Gray man. He appreciated the irony. And the preference for taking the names of fictional heroes and villains was popular in the early years of Quirks. Though he had not lived through that time, unlike him.

But he was talking about an unusual kid now. Rumors about a dwarf stealing everything in sight had started spreading quickly four years ago. At first, he was not too interested. Just another bearer of a decent Quirk who decided to take the easy way to make money. Most of them were quickly caught by heroes.

But when the dwarf lasted longer than seven months and even started stealing from other villains, Giran became interested. And he laughed for a long time, realizing that a nine year old boy was successfully stealing from famous, adult villains right under their noses. Oh, he would have paid good money to see their faces when they discovered all their cash was missing. He even began to think that the boy's survival instinct had completely atrophied. So he decided to get in touch with him.

That was a bit difficult, because despite his audacity, the boy was quite timid.

From there, a business relationship developed between them. And for someone with such a useful Quirk as "Choice," finding a use in "dark" dealings was quite easy. It was clear that Ken was hiding a lot and was afraid of some organization. The naive boy sincerely believed that he had managed to hide that from Giran.

The broker himself had never been able to learn much about that organization. Only that they needed a lot of children for a while and that they had cooperated for a time with Daruma Ujiko. Though that was not saying much. That long lived old man liked to participate in experiments and then step aside and watch the results. And those results often made Giran quite uneasy.

As for the boy, Okuta had recommended a good hired mercenary to him as a trainer, someone whose last job had not gone very well, since he had fled to Japan in a hurry and needed money. Plus, it would be good to hear his opinion on the boy's skills. The broker always tried to listen to the opinions of professionals. Excessive pride never ended well for those who possessed it.

Giran was even sometimes surprised by his own interest in Ken's future. Though the active phase of his plan was still two or three years away. And no major or interesting business was expected during that time. So it would be interesting to set the boy on the right path, so to speak. And, of course, with profit for himself. He enjoyed watching the boy try in vain to hide his greed and indignation at the prices of goods and services. He even managed to secretly take a photo of his face when he learned the price for official identification documents.

If the boy survived, he could achieve quite a lot, especially in the coming chaotic times. And the broker intended to wait for that time. Maybe then he would show him this small piece of "compromising evidence" just to see his reaction. It should be quite amusing.

After glancing at the time on his phone, Kagerou took a drag from a new cigarette, lighting it with a recently purchased pistol lighter. It was a childish trick, but it sometimes made clients nervous when he pulled it out of his pocket. Returning to his thoughts, the broker began to consider his order.

Find potential recruits for the future plan. They were not rushing him, but he needed to prepare in advance. Among possible newcomers, only Muscular and Smog came to mind so far. One had made a name for himself by killing low ranking heroes, and the other was a recently emerged serial killer. Giran sincerely doubted the sanity of both. But what could he do? Problems with logic and mental health were common among villains who were confident in the power of their Quirks. And sometimes the Quirks themselves physically affected the minds of their bearers. The broker himself had been lucky with his Quirk. "Haze" had helped him out many times early in his "career." The Quirk itself allows the user to induce mild amnesia in a target by making contact with their head. Their memories of the previous five minutes and the next five minutes become hazy.

His further thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching his table. Looking at the time, Okuta broke into a wide grin, showing the gap where one of his front teeth was missing.

"Ken kun, you were almost late. I was starting to think you had decided not to come see your old friend."

"I ran into some minor problems on the way. And judging by the prices you charge me, the meaning of friendship is not that great to you, old man."

At this, the broker's grin only widened. In his opinion, the boy had managed to hide his irritation and impatience behind a sarcastic reply better this time than before. Not much better, but better.

"Well, you have to separate work from personal life. Every successful businessman knows that."

Ken's eye twitched slightly. He hated being given patronizing advice and lectures on topics that did not interest him. And Giran knew this perfectly well. Ken also knew that Giran knew this, so he said with a sigh:

"Fine, Giran. We could trade jabs for a long time. I did not come here for that."

Watching the boy's face closely, the man who had become a skilled killer began to speak.

"Oh, I think this will interest you. My offer is that you retrieve something for me from a police station in Tokyo. And as a reward, I will provide you with information on the whereabouts of the American underground space hero, 'Omnipresent'…"

The boy, who had been about to refuse, froze sharply. Already knowing the answer, Okuta continued.

"…formerly known as Kayoshi. Do you agree to this offer?"

[End Giran's POV ]

Chapter 10: Preparation

He knows. He knows. He knows. He knows. The thought hammered in my head. Maybe he also knows about the organization? And would he sell me out to them for a large sum of money? I need to kill him. He is dangerous. No, first interrogate him, then kill him. Here? No, his associates or allies could be nearby, or there could be inconvenient witnesses. Wait until he leaves, follow him, capture him, and interrogate him. Then definitely kill him. No one must know about my past, so that the organization cannot find me. Yes, no one must know, no one must know, no one must know, no one must know. Everyone who knows must die.

I quickly suppressed the rising panic and the thirst for blood along with these foolish thoughts. I tried to keep my face indifferent. Of course, Giran reads me like an open book even with this face, but I am not keeping an indifferent face for him. I hate my weaknesses, and showing my true emotions when making deals with people like him is a glaring weakness. Being weak, given my goals, means death. So I must learn to hide my intentions behind various masks. Even if I failed to hide them this time and last time, I will succeed next time. Did not succeed? Try again.

Besides, killing the broker is an extremely stupid idea. I still need him. And an interrogation on my part would ruin everything. Looking directly into Giran's eyes, I said:

"Fine. What needs to be taken? And tell me the time frame."

"The other day, the cops and heroes detained a smuggler. I do not care about him, really, and he should have known the risks of his profession. But the goods he was carrying are very important to my acquaintance. They are quite rare medical drugs and narcotics. They are currently in that police station. Where they might be located and the layout of the building, I will send them to your email, as a favor. You have a day or two. The drugs themselves are extremely temperamental, and their shelf life is short. Bring them to the usual place."

The broker finished and took a drag from a new cigarette. After waiting a second, expecting a possible continuation, I stood up.

"Well, since I do not have much time, I will go."

"Good luck, Ken kun. Do not worry about the reward. The information is accurate."

He could not see it because my back was turned, but a mad smile appeared on my face for an instant.

- - -

Arriving at my hideout, a small structure on one of the rooftops, because storing certain things in a rented apartment would be stupid, I began to put on the costume I use for such jobs. Gloves, boots with steel toes, top and bottom with weak protective qualities that did not restrict movement, knives hidden in the costume, a holster with a SIG Sauer P226 pistol, and a dark mask with a wide red smile and eye holes. The rest of the costume was also dark in color.

While putting it all on, I tried to suppress my impatience and the jumble of thoughts. Expecting that after spending several months as a test subject I would only have claustrophobia out of all my mental problems was naive of me. I realized this when, instead of running away from possible opponents like villains or thugs, I started killing them.

It would seem that with my Quirk, I just need to grab what I need and slip through a wall or the ground using "Choice." So why fight and even kill? I asked myself this question and answered it myself. The desire to prove my strength, my superiority. At the expense of others. A rather petty, selfish, and immoral desire, ordinary people would say. And I would even agree. Because I never became confident in myself.

The nightmares, the fear, and the panic had been with me ever since the first experiment performed on me. They dulled and slightly faded during my time in the white cell. Despair and resignation made me apathetic. But after my escape, they returned with renewed strength. The fear that on a certain day my Quirk would simply disappear, as suddenly as it had appeared, still suffocates me. That I would become useless again, helpless, a second class citizen. I want to be strong, to be confident in myself and my abilities. But doubts grip my heart with a cold grip. It is as if another, smaller me is speaking in a nasal, confident tone:

*"All your strength is the result of your Quirk. Without it, you would not be free. Without it, you are nothing. Just a pathetic piece of cattle in the hands of the strong."*

This drove and still drives me insane. I wanted to pour out my indignation, my fears, my hatred on my enemies. To prove to myself that I am strong, both with my Quirk and without. And how can I do that without comparing myself to others? Sparring with my trainer without using my Quirk helped a little. But deadly fights with strong villains, when lives are at stake and all means are used, made me laugh joyfully or smile madly at the end. Because at those moments, I no longer cared about the fear of losing my Quirk or of being nothing without it. We used everything we could, including our Quirks, and the fact that I survived, is that not proof that I am stronger and more trained than my already dead enemy?

Even that Dissolver, I could have caught him alone and extracted everything I needed from him, and his gang would have simply fallen apart without him. But I wanted to test my strength in direct combat. Even though I also have to commit stealthy killings. I am not a fool, and I remember the main advantage of a villain, which I have become, over heroes. Secrecy. No matter how strong the heroes are and no matter how many there are, if they cannot find me and cannot hit me with their attacks, it does not matter.

Staring at my clenched fists as I waited to receive the information about the police station, I thought about the reward for this task. My father. I want to find him no less than I want to find that organization and the scientists. He worked in Japan for some time after leaving Mom and me, but later he flew to the United States and disappeared there. There was no news of his heroic deeds, and even before, he never really liked the attention of journalists and the public. Information about the families and personal lives and activities of heroes, if they did not want to publicize it, was carefully hidden by the government. Moreover, the policy of providing benefits and privileges to heroes is widespread in all modern countries, which has encouraged heroes to move from one country to another. In the past, countries with harsh conditions and strict control over hero activities quickly lost their strongest Quirk users, which was equivalent to losing military strength. Such countries quickly fell apart and were absorbed by more adaptable ones.

Finally, the sound of a message arriving on my email came from my laptop on the table. I needed to review the information and later go scout the police station itself. I should be able to make it there and learn everything I need before morning.

I looked at my mask, and my face smiled involuntarily.

Father, we will meet soon, and I have some questions for you. And your answers had better satisfy me. Otherwise, my reaction will not please you. Not at all.

Chapter 11: Bad Luck

[MUSIC LYRICS:

*Everything is covered in darkness at night.*
*Silence surrounds me. Let the dream last a little longer.*

*Pain inside me, tears and anger, like a whirlpool, drag everything down.*
*The world in darkness, my voice is gone, my path is lost. Soon I will disappear.*]

I hummed along to the song playing from my headphones as I glanced at my wristwatch. In this situation, I could afford to listen to music, so I randomly chose OxT's "Silent Solitude."

[MUSIC LYRICS:

*Dirty deceptions and traps of betrayal —*
*There was not a single shred of meaning in any of it, no.*

*Everything is covered in darkness at night.*
*Silence surrounds me. The whole world sleeps peacefully.*
*And the universe once again*
*Continues to repeat cruel dreams.*]

I had to wait on the roof of a building near the police station. The best time to break in was 3:30 AM, when the nearest hero patrol would take at least fifteen minutes to reach the station.

[MUSIC LYRICS:

*How many times will the bitter tale of past sins torment my memory?*
*Who could grant me peace? How can I atone for my guilt?*

*Kindness and malice, feelings, faith in God —*
*I forgot about everything, as if I never knew them at all.*]

The police station itself was a three story building. Its security system was far from Tartarus, but it was not far behind the standard hero academies either. The layout was standard for such facilities.

The first floor had a reception area, temporary holding cells for Class B and lower villains, an interrogation room, locker rooms, a gym, and even a shower. The second floor had an office for receiving calls from citizens and communicating with hero agencies, small meeting rooms for staff, an armory, and my target: the evidence storage room. The third floor had staff workstations and the security system control room.

[MUSIC LYRICS:

*The dirt I hid from view,*
*A cold, dim light puts it on display.*
*My loneliness strikes pain straight into my heart,*
*Punished by silence.*

*Dirty deceptions, wounds from battles,*
*Prolonged wars are as cruel as massacres.*
*People do not admit they desire that,*
*Secretly continuing to present the sinful world.*]

The station was full of surveillance cameras. If an alarm was triggered, all exits would be sealed. And of course, there were night shift employees. Trying to disable the system through the control room was doomed to fail, because according to protocol, the central computer had a low level artificial intelligence linked to the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department's server. And thanks to a classified government agent with a computer related Quirk, the chance of a successful hack was infinitely close to zero.

[MUSIC LYRICS:
*Words from days long gone —*
*I cannot drive them out of my memory.*
*I locked my heart with a key,*
*So that voice in my head would finally fall silent.*

*Everything is covered in darkness at night.*
*Silence surrounds me. The whole world sleeps peacefully.*
*And the universe once again*
*Continues to repeat cruel dreams.*]

It was time. I had ten minutes to reach the evidence room undetected, and another fifteen minutes to find the drugs and get out.

I checked my equipment. It included a pistol, knives, homemade smoke, flash, and incendiary grenades (I did not study the support course curriculum for nothing, no I did not), a sticky compound grenade, and a storage container.

I descended and made my way to the station's outer fence. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and made myself permeable to photons. This deprived me of normal vision, because light rays reflected from objects no longer reached my retinas. But I had another kind of sight, or rather, a kind of sensation.

Ever since my escape from that place, I had constantly devoted time to restoring the strength I had used. As a result, that sensation of surrounding space with dark outlines of my environment and bright silhouettes of people had returned. The range was the problem. One and a half meters compared to a hundred or more was pathetic. But it was what it was.

As a Russian arms dealer I knew used to say, "The first step is the hardest," or something like that.

I pushed aside unnecessary thoughts and focused on this sensation, which I privately called my "Gaze." The pitch black darkness in my mind was replaced by a sphere around me, within which I could see my surroundings in various shades of darkness. From memory, I made my way into the station. I knew where and through what I needed to pass to minimize the risk of running into anyone.

Cold sweat ran down my forehead from the tension. During the entire trip to the evidence room, I nearly ran into two silhouettes.

Now I had to work quickly. With my "Gaze," I could not identify the specific storage locker. I passed through the wall, deactivated my "Gaze," and made myself susceptible to light again. I turned on the light and threw a sticky compound grenade into the gap between the door lock and the wall. The substance splattered and hardened with a pop. I drew my pistol and shot out the surveillance cameras.

I approached the left wall of lockers, looking from the entrance. No text, just numbers. Damn.

I opened them quickly, nearly ripping the doors off. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. A storage container. I quickly pulled it out and opened it. Empty. It seemed the contents had been moved to another locker. Damn.

Two lockers later, I found what I was looking for. Two jars. One with some kind of solution, and another with green pills. I quickly packed them into my small container.

Just as I closed it, I heard the sound of a door being kicked in. I grabbed the handle of the container with my right hand, threw a knife toward the door with my left, and focused on using "Choice" to pass through the floor.

My feet had barely gone through the floor when a stream of sand slammed me into the wall opposite the entrance. The sand compressed tightly around my body. I looked at the doorway.

A muscular man with a mask on his face and a bushy mustache stood there. One of his hands had turned into the sand holding me, and with the other, he was pulling a knife from his shoulder. There was no blood.

I tried to ignore the rising fear and used "Choice." A small cracking sound indicated failure. Again. Failure again. Again. Failure again. Again. Failure again. The sand squeezed tighter.

The man, who I could say with one hundred percent certainty was a hero, had transformed his other hand into sand to better restrain the criminal. Me. Behind him, police officers entered cautiously with weapons drawn.

I froze.

I had been caught.

*

*

*

[Snatch'S Pov ]

A pair of extravagantly dressed people walked down the night street. For people in their profession, dressing extravagantly was normal. A young man in a tight blue suit yawned contagiously, covering his mouth with his hand, which was wrapped in metal cable. The second man looked at him with disapproval but also understanding. Compared to the young man, he had a much more imposing and brutal appearance. A muscular man with long hair and a mustache. His bare torso was covered by a combat vest, and his legs were hidden in brown military style pants and massive boots. The upper part of his head was covered by a blue mask with eye holes. This was the appearance of the Sand Hero: Snatch.

"Energo, you are not looking very energetic. And we are not taking a stroll through the city. We are patrolling."

The intern from Ketsubutsu Academy groaned and answered with a gloomy face:

"Master, how can I be energetic when it is almost three thirty in the morning, and we have been walking around the city for two hours without finding a single villain, not even a low level one? I am dying of boredom. All the villains are probably asleep in their beds. Only we are out here like…"

Energo fell silent under Snatch's stern gaze. He knew his mentor, Sajin Higawara, as an extremely kind hearted and empathetic person. Because of his father's disability, which he suffered during a villain attack, Higawara wanted to become a hero and save people. That was why he was extremely responsible and critical of his own actions and those of other heroes. He despised heroes who sought money and fame because he sincerely believed that a hero's duty was to save people as effectively as possible. So that there would be no weeping families over the coffins of their loved ones. So that parents would not bury their children because of psychotic killers. The contrast between his fierce appearance and his gentle character still caused dissonance in the intern's mind.

A woman's scream cut through the noise of the night city.

"HELP!"

Exchanging quick glances, the hero and the hero in training rushed toward the source of the scream. Turning into an alley, they saw a villain with the head of a hyena trying to silence a beautiful woman in a white dress. Noticing the hero, the villain started running deeper into the alley with loud curses.

"Energo, watch over and calm the civilian. I will go after the villain."

Snatch said, already running after the villain. The chase lasted at least ten minutes before the hero managed to hook the villain's leg with a sand whip. The next second, the villain was wrapped in a sand cocoon. After contacting his intern and confirming that he was fine and following protocol for such cases, Snatch began to remember the location of the nearest police station. He and the villain had run quite far from their patrol area. As it turned out, they were not that far from one station.

Approaching the station entrance, the hero was unpleasantly surprised to hear an alarm.

"It seems this night refuses to end quietly."

After handing over the hyena headed villain to the police officers at the entrance, he followed the dispatcher's directions and ran to the second floor. Pushing past the officers trying to open the door, he turned the upper part of his body into sand and forced the door open.

The room was in disarray. Some cabinet doors were nearly torn off. And the intruder, holding a strange suitcase in his hand, threw something at him. Feeling something enter his shoulder, Snatch ignored it and slammed the villain into the wall with a stream of sand that quickly enveloped him.

Then he looked at the knife sticking out of his shoulder. Fortunately, it was still in its sand state, so pulling it out was easy. Then, with both hands in the form of sand, he began to restrain the struggling villain.

The sound of cracking did not please him. When the villain in the smiling mask froze, he began to examine him more closely. An indistinct muttering began to come from behind the mask of the short villain. Snatch grunted and was about to ask how the villain had gotten in.

But suddenly, a wave of goosebumps ran down the hero's back. Something dark, mad, and hungry began to emanate from the masked man. Trying to understand what he was feeling, Higawara heard a trembling, very young voice:

"No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. I do not want to be caught. I have not gotten my revenge on them yet. I have not become strong yet. I have not met him yet…"

The longer the voice spoke, the more confident it became, and the feeling of dread grew. The cracking sound that had stopped resumed with renewed intensity, and black and purple lightning began to race across the sand. Suddenly, with a loud crack and a flash of lightning, his left hand broke free, throwing pieces of hardened sand aside, and grabbed the rest of the sand.

"It cannot end like this. I reject this ending."

The villain shouted with red eyes burning with madness and hatred. Following his last words, a wave of air spread from his body, tearing the sand apart and pushing the hero and police officers back.

Snatch did not lose his composure and directed his sand hands, which had taken the form of beasts, toward the opponent. But the masked man who landed on his feet dodged to the side in a very strange way. For a brief moment, the hero felt that air resistance and gravity had ceased to exist for the villain.

Gunshots from the police officers caused no harm. Dodging strangely and sharply, the villain began to approach Snatch. Gritting his teeth, the sand hero increased the pressure and frequency of his attacks, desperately trying to hit his opponent.

The cacophony of gunfire, rustling sand, and cracking of broken furniture and cabinet doors was interrupted by the sound of an explosion and the subsequent screams of police officers burning alive.

Involuntarily turning around, Higawara watched in horror as people were engulfed in flames. From horror and rage, the hero who wanted to save people roared. Preparing to unleash a hail of attacks, he stared at the empty space where the villain had just been.

Fingers in black gloves appeared before his face, catching him off guard.

A new scream, full of pain and despair, rang out through the police station. Sajin Higawara wanted to throw the villain off, but he could not because of the growing weakness and cold that the heat of the burning bodies behind him could not stop. He did not see how from his head, clasped by hands with thumbs stuck into his eye sockets, and from the rest of his body, streams of mesmerizingly beautiful energy, predominantly orange, flowed into the body of the villain in the smiling mask.

The last thought in the sand hero's mind was regret that he would never hear his daughter's voice again.

Pulling his thumbs out of the eye sockets, the villain let the body fall limply. He tilted his head thoughtfully. He took out a sticker and stuck it to the corpse's forehead. He turned toward the discarded container, picked it up, and soon disappeared.

The police officers who ran in, after extinguishing the burning bodies of their colleagues, looked with pale faces at the body of the respected hero. They read the inscription on the sticker:

{"Ticci Micc was here. Smile."}

[End Pov - Snatch]

Chapter 12 New Horizons

"We finally finished, Izuku. This beach looks so much better than it did four months ago. Now it is perfect for your future training."

"It is a shame you are moving away with your uncle, Ken. But I am grateful for all the time we spent training together and cleaning up this beach."

In a dirty, torn t-shirt and shorts, Midoriya smiled at me with a tired, slightly sad expression. I gave him an encouraging smile in return.

"Do not be sad. This is not goodbye forever. We will still keep in touch. Just do not stop training. With your intelligence, you can achieve a lot."

"Do not worry about that. For the sake of my dream, I will try three times harder. No, five times harder."

Midoriya perked up and raised his hands excitedly, only to quickly become embarrassed by his own actions. I could only laugh at that.

After saying goodbye to Midoriya, I walked along the shore and began to recall the events of the past four months, especially that fight with the sand hero who, as it turned out, was named Snatch.

I had never been so close to failure. If I had been locked up in prison, escaping would have been impossible for me. Despite my Quirk, they would have found a way to restrain me. Only an idiot would underestimate modern technology and the intelligence of people who deal with various villains daily.

And if I set aside my emotions at that moment, I had acted in the best traditions of heroes following the Spanish motto that the whole world tactfully ignores: "Plus Ultra." Beyond your limits. Go further... Like some kind of manga hero, except the story I was living in had a dark and bloody plot.

I was incredibly happy that I had won and discovered new facets of my Quirk, but I hated the way I had achieved that victory. In all my previous fights and killings, I had carefully prepared, analyzed my opponents, and developed a plan of action. Even when fights went to the edge of defeat, I knew my strength would be enough to win or escape. But that time, I had simply thrown all my power at my opponent, hoping to overpower him. That incident showed my weakness against unexpected attacks from unknown opponents.

That fact involuntarily increased my respect for heroes, who often face such situations from villains.

I fled from that police station practically with my heels flashing, afraid that I might get "lucky" enough to run into a hero on the way back who could also "stun" me. Purely out of stubbornness and willpower, I managed to deliver that container of drugs to the designated place. Then I collapsed in my apartment and slept for two whole days.

The pain in my body, especially the headache, made me want to take my gun and shoot myself. I felt like I had tried to clean that entire beach in one night, then gotten dead drunk and decided to trade blows with All Might. So I honestly did not care about the calls from Midoriya and Giran, ah damn him.

Later, I called Midoriya and told him I was sick. Things were more complicated with Giran. He really tore into me about that fight, calling me a "young talent" that all the police and heroes of Japan were eager to meet. As it turned out, I had quickly gone from a little known villain to an A class villain, just a step away from S class. I just needed to kill a couple more heroes, and the promotion was guaranteed.

Only after my irritated response did he stop his mockery and stop picking at my brain with a small spoon. Besides the information about my father, I had also managed to negotiate payment for the operation before the job and after scouting the station. But the information about him remained my highest priority.

And it stunned me, though I should have expected it. I was prepared for him to be in the United States, but not for him to have a new wife and a four year old daughter.

I pushed aside my feelings and continued to listen carefully to the information. Omnipresent and his family currently lived in Raleigh, the capital of North Carolina, where All Might had done his internship after U.A. and even named one of his moves after the city. The spatial hero had been very active there over the past year, which was how they had managed to pinpoint his location.

It was hard to suppress my desire to rush to the United States immediately. Only common sense and the understanding of how that could end stopped me. I needed to consolidate my new abilities through training and figure out how I was going to get to North Carolina.

My "Gaze" had become easier to keep active, and I had increased its range by another meter, though headaches from prolonged use remained. I had previously been able to use "Choice" to make myself weightless by making myself permeable to the Earth, so that gravity could not affect me, and to make myself permeable to air, removing air resistance, though I could not breathe. But quickly activating and deactivating that ability in combat had been beyond me. Now it allowed me to perform pirouettes and jumps that any athlete or parkour enthusiast would envy.

And as the cherry on top, "Rejection."

If "Choice" requires manipulating Dark Matter through its pulsation with a corresponding mental command, and passive enhancement works without my participation, and "Gaze" is always active but I subconsciously ignore it, requiring concentration to use, then "Rejection" is similar to "Absorption." When using "Absorption," I simply try to release Dark Matter from my body, and it acts on its own. With "Rejection," the Dark Matter leaves my body with a single clear command, a mental command to "reject" a specific thing. The farther the object, the weaker the effect. But what stops me from rejecting the air toward my target? Nothing. I can also keep or remove the recoil from the attack. Launching myself into the air by "rejecting" the ground? Easy.

This ability has enormous offensive potential and no less energy consumption. And throughout those months, along with physical training alongside Midoriya, who believed that my Quirk was simply passive enhancement, I had been training my Quirk in deserted places.

Now, to operate in the criminal underworld, I needed more power. Besides heroes, villains who had previously not dared to approach me might also take an interest. That same notorious A class villain who had killed heroes, Muscular, could crush me in direct combat, ignoring wounds thanks to his Quirk. If I had run into him back then, I could only run away. Who would win in a fight between us now was unclear.

My flight to the United States was scheduled for three days from now. A month ago, the broker had contacted me and said he could help arrange the flight officially, but in return, I had to help a designated person with the transportation and delivery of a certain "product." Not coming up with a better option, I agreed to his proposal.

I stopped and decided to take a closer look at the reddening horizon. The crimson sunset, with the sea shimmering with golden reflections, evoked a slight melancholy. It reminded me of blood. With a light smile, I headed toward my rented apartment. Walking under the rays of the setting sun, only one thought pulsed through my mind:

"How many more lives must I take for myself and for my goals?"

Chapter 13: The City

A young teenager of about thirteen, dressed in a gray hoodie and blue jeans, walked lazily down one of the busiest streets in North Carolina's capital city. He nodded his head in time with the music playing from the gray headphones resting on his head. Occasionally, the song's lyrics escaped his lips.

*In the pitch black darkness, days shine bright,*

*When, free of worries,*
*We could spend our time,*
*A perfect world with no problems,*
*But no excitement.*

His red eyes drifted lazily over the glass skyscrapers of major companies and the numerous restaurants with outdoor seating. Despite it being the end of September, the city was still full of tourists wanting to experience the "Oak City" and one of America's technology hubs.

*We have become completely lazy, completely.*
*Illuminated in the pitch black darkness,*

*Our path is laid out*
*We know not where,*
*Only the hands of the clock move like a bone in the throat,*
*And there is no fire,*
*Only warmth remains.*

The names of famous scientists who had worked here kept the city's fame and popularity alive. The teenager's figure moved smoothly through the crowd toward a large building with a tall glass dome in place of a roof. Many tourists stopped nearby to take photos or pay at a terminal to get entry inside.

*From where we can see*

*The dance of the bonfire's glow,*

*A forgotten melody*
*I can hear it now...*

His eyes filled with greater interest as he read the sign: "Exhibition of Research by the American Scientific Research Community."

*They say, "Nothing is eternal,*

*Nothing on Earth is eternal!"*
*But I find it funny, because I am quite satisfied*
*With things as they are.*
*Let the fuel run out,*
*Let the light go out,*
*As long as we have fire in our chests,*
*We will continue toward our goal*
*Moving lightly.*

He quickly made his way to a short line near one of the terminals, after looking at a projected visitor schedule and tour information.

*And jingly trinkets, and magic,*

*That will turn pain to dust —*
*My treasures in trembling hands.*

*They say, "Nothing is eternal,*

*Nothing on Earth is eternal!"*
*As long as we have fire in our chests,*
*We will continue toward our goal*
*Moving lightly.*
(Mrs. Green Apple — Inferno)

*

*
*

I finished singing quietly, receiving my temporary pass and taking off my headphones. I had wanted to visit this exhibition ever since I arrived in this city.

When I was asked to help deliver a suitcase of contraband, my first thought was to stash it somewhere before the flight. I had to give up on that idea for two reasons. First, I did not know the plane's structure or where I could hide the suitcase unnoticed. Second, there was the possibility of a thorough inspection before takeoff.

So I used a simple and effective method. I took the suitcase from the nondescript man Giran had assigned, made it permeable to light and everything around it, and blatantly walked through the checkpoint. Then came several hours of flight, which blended into an improvised training session for me. After landing, the suitcase became visible again in a bathroom stall. I should become a magician.

The only problem was that we landed in Charlotte, the largest city in North Carolina. I had to wait a couple of days for my official "guardian" for this trip to hand over the suitcase. Then we took a high speed train to Raleigh. After arriving, my "guardian" quickly rented an apartment for me and disappeared on some business. He told me to call him only for important reasons. Officially, he was an acquaintance of my official uncle who had allowed him to take me on this trip. After asking him what to tell the cops if they had questions, I lost interest in him. I had more serious problems. My equipment and gear were still in Japan, so I would have to make or buy new gear here, and also find a place to hide it all. How could I even think about finding my father under these conditions?

So I had been wandering around the city for a week, buying spare parts and components from various shops. Fortunately, I had been able to bring the fabric for my costume without any problems.

And this exhibition had really caught my interest. The phenomenon of Quirks had severely slowed down the development of science, but at the same time, it had helped scientists enormously. Absurd? Not when you consider the permission granted to build and fully control the international research association island. Before the Quirk phenomenon, the government could have suppressed projects that openly interfered with the profits of oligarchs or large companies connected to the bureaucratic apparatus. But during the time of total chaos with the mass emergence of the first people with superpowers, all the rich people and organizations panicked and began investing insane amounts of money into researching Quirks and ways to counter them.

Then one might ask, why did scientific development slow down if huge sums were being invested in research? The answer turned out to be simple. They could not do it. They did not find a simple or technical solution to fight Quirks. The Quirk users were too strong and too diverse. And although governments continued to invest huge sums in scientific communities, the first satisfactory results appeared relatively recently, in the form of defensive systems for places like Tartarus Prison. That is, roughly ten to twenty years ago.

So the governments of different countries had to find another solution to this "problem" during the mass uprisings of "mutants," the witch hunts by crazed citizens led by sects springing up like mushrooms after rain, and the vigilante justice of newly emerged lynch mobs. And the government of one US state, at that time the country most affected by the Quirk phenomenon, found an elegant solution. They chose loyal lynch mob members or simply people with superpowers, signed contracts with them, organized them, and later declared them heroes, and their opponents villains, thus introducing for the first time in history the profession of "hero."

All other countries quickly picked up the idea and even began calling mutations "Quirks" more harmlessly. Soon after, the International Hero Association and national hero rankings appeared. The peak of all this came with the arrival of All Might. Becoming literally an ideal and an idol to be emulated, he increased the popularity and support of heroes among the populations of various countries several times over. That is why he is considered the Symbol of Peace. With his strength, which allowed him to defeat any villain, he created a precedent similar to the first appearance and use of the atomic bomb. There were and probably still are a few people with similar strength, but among them he was absolutely the first. And the name of All Might still hangs like the sword of Damocles over all villains.

As I recalled these historical facts, I looked with curiosity at the exhibits and inventions of modern scientific thought on display. The desire to find my father still burned fiercely in my chest. But I was in no hurry. I could not afford to make a mistake. Due to constant training and studying, one can burn out. So I decided to be an ordinary tourist, and besides, the topic of technology had always been interesting to me. I even had the stupid idea of enrolling in the U.A. support course. On one hand, there was the risk of being discovered by one of the country's smartest beings, Principal Nezu. On the other hand, it would be amusing that a villain would be studying practically under the noses of future heroes, and I also wanted to develop my skills with the help of professionals in the field.

My further thoughts were interrupted by a running blonde girl of about fifteen. What interrupted them? She tripped and knocked me off my feet.

From the sudden embrace, I panicked, rolled to the side, and sprang to my feet with a knife at the ready. However, I hid it just as quickly, hoping no one had noticed, and stared at her with eyes still wide from fright. In response, I got a confused, flustered female voice:

"Sorry."

**

A/N: The awkward first meeting trope of knocking the protagonist off their feet with an unknown girl. Check.

Chapter 14: The Girl Who Tripped Into My Life

[Melissa Shield's POV]

Melissa Shield, the daughter of one of the greatest scientists of the modern era and the former sidekick of All Might, was a rather lonely teenager. Her mother had died early in her childhood, and her father's frequent business trips left her with a lot of free time. Meeting and communicating with Uncle Toshinori awakened in her the desire to become a hero.

The fact that she had no Quirk might have crushed her determination, if not for her father's example. Her natural curiosity and enormous intelligence quickly set her apart from her peers, as did the fame of a "young genius" who had inherited her father's brilliance. Despite her positive and kind hearted nature, her father's fame and the aura of "genius" put pressure on people her age and attracted those who were interested in David Shield, including villains and common kidnappers looking for money or information about new developments.

Entering I Island Academy, the island of scientists named after the island itself, did not improve the situation much, because her classmates were already interested in good positions at large companies. Advice on a scientific project or a recommendation for a job from her father carried considerable weight. Few people were interested in her as a person. So after finishing her exams for the semester early to get free attendance, she threw herself into science, occasionally asking her father to take her on his business trips.

This trip to North Carolina was not supposed to be any different from the previous ones. Her father had gone to negotiate with the board of directors about one of his projects. He had been quite depressed after one of his developments, which he had worked on for several years, was shut down. But lately, he seemed to be in better spirits. He promised that after four o'clock, he would be able to take a walk with his daughter around Raleigh.

So the girl had to think about how to spend those few hours waiting, while being at the exhibition of inventions at the local tech park.

Heading toward the exit, Melissa was unpleasantly surprised to see several familiar faces: Adrian Attwood and Eric Butler, the sons of her father's business partners. Their annoying persistence and desire to learn more about her father really irritated her.

She had no desire to ruin her mood before her walk with her father. Running away was certainly cowardly, but when else could she allow herself a small weakness?

Knocking someone off their feet, however, had not been part of the plan. She got to her feet and apologized in an embarrassed, flustered voice:

"Sorry."

The black haired boy with wide red eyes stared at her in shock. Looking back, she noticed Adrian and Eric coming around the corner. An idea popped into her head.

"Play along."

He nodded with a calmer, more interested look.

"Hello, Melissa. Long time no see. If you are free, maybe you could take a walk with me and Adrian?"

Butler said, approaching with Attwood.

Taking the tense teenager by the arm, she said with a regretful expression:

"Sorry, Eric, but I promised to show my friend around the city. And we really have to go."

She walked briskly toward the exit with her unwilling companion, who did not say a word and kept a stone faced expression. After five minutes, they left the building and walked far enough away that she let go of his arm. He relaxed noticeably and looked at her questioningly. His face looked more lively now. Maybe he was shy about physical contact?

"Thank you for playing along. My name is Melissa, as you already figured out. I really did not want to talk to those guys. You are probably not very happy about being pulled away from the exhibition, right?"

He nodded, lost in thought. Then he smiled, slightly narrowing his eyes, and answered:

"It is nothing. I was about to leave soon anyway. My name is Ken, and I recently arrived in town with my uncle's acquaintance. And since we are now acquainted, and you promised to show your friend around the city, how about you give me a tour of the local sights?"

He finished with a sly smile.

[End Pov Melissa Shield]

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Agreeing to play along, I watched with curiosity as the situation unfolded between the girl and the two guys she clearly did not want to talk to, judging by her previous expression. Not until she took my arm and dragged me toward the exit.

I could not help but recall a phrase spoken by that African arms dealer when the police started breaking down his door. Every instinct and fear reflex demanded that I push the girl away and run away, or in the extreme case, kill the source of the discomfort.

This damn claustrophobia (maybe some other phobia, who knows how many armchair psychologists have invented) was always irritating me. I tried to fight it in various ways. Even dragging Izuku along was not purely out of kindness. I am still embarrassed by my actions and thoughts. I fight my fears by touching another guy. Brilliant. I am practically a deviant. That African arms dealer swore way too much.

And yet it helped. I barely pay attention to the road now, keeping a stone face and controlling my body. Even though the touch was somewhat pleasant, if I ignored my quiet panic and desire to kill the obstacle.

When she finally let go of my arm, I managed to calm my emotions. Her explanation of her actions confirmed my assumption that she did not want to talk to those guys. So I suggested that she give me that impromptu tour.

Why not? I had nothing else to do, and besides, she owed me now.

The next few hours were quite interesting. It was clear that Melissa knew the city well, even though she did not live here permanently. As we visited various historical and cultural monuments, she told me in detail about the city's history. How it was named after Sir Walter Raleigh, the organizer of the mysteriously lost Roanoke Colony, and was founded in 1792 as the state capital and county seat.

In the first century after the appearance of Quirks, it lost its former growth rates due to the crisis and the collapse of the Research Triangle tech park. But the heir to the territory and industrial capacity of the former tech park managed to drastically change the situation. By the middle of the second century, it was home to one of the country's best scientific centers, along with some of the best technical universities.

And of course, there was All Might, who had been a hero alongside the then young David Shield. Although many fan videos of his battles with villains can be easily found on the internet, it was quite unusual to visit the places you recognize from those videos.

When the conversation turned to the research being done here, we got into a pretty heated discussion. I was very curious to hear about the scientists' achievements in biotechnology, and she, realizing that I knew the subject, began to tell me enthusiastically, bombarding me with various terms and derived theories. Listening to her, I grew more and more respectful of her intelligence and the efforts she had put into technical disciplines. In this regard, her knowledge was head and shoulders, if not an order of magnitude, above my own.

At the end of the tour, we exchanged contacts on social media. Having forgotten to give my last name, I only corrected that at that moment. She gave hers and watched my reaction with interest. At first not understanding what was going on, it only dawned on me a few seconds later that the Shield surname had another rather famous bearer.

I stared at her with wide eyes, my mouth opening and closing dumbly. She just laughed at this rather amusing sight and, said goodbye and left.

Chapter 15: Family

Over the past week, I had been talking with Melissa quite often. We discussed some of the problems I ran into while designing and building my equipment. I had many questions about her father, but I figured she wouldn't want to answer them. People probably asked her about him all the time.

It was a shame she and her father had to leave North Carolina a week after we met. I really enjoyed talking to her in person.

That time was enough for me to finish building the gear I needed in a rented workshop. Renting workshops was fairly common among local students, since their time in the school labs was limited. I also studied the city, the local heroes, and their patrol schedules. And I found my father's new family.

Alice Scott, formerly Austin. Four year old Agnes. And my father, now Kaneki Scott.

Questions kept spinning through my head. Why did he change his name? Why did he suddenly move to America? What was he doing now as a hero? I couldn't get within a hundred meters of their house when my father was there. And not just because it was hard to hold back my desire to meet him and talk.

I remembered his training at the hero agency from when I was a child. At least a dozen rubber balls would fly at him from different directions at incredible speed, and he would dodge them with his eyes closed. When I looked at him with delighted, questioning eyes, he said:

"I just sense my surroundings."

Back then, I thought he had achieved that through physical training. But later I noticed something strange. In the few videos of his battles that witnesses had managed to record, he could move toward villains inside buildings. Buildings he had never been in. Villains he had not seen. It couldn't be explained by luck or quick thinking. So I started to suspect that he could sense his surroundings through his Quirk over a very long distance. But how far? I had no idea.

His new wife was nothing special. She worked as a manager. Her Quirk was a small spatial pocket. His daughter had recently awakened her Quirk, similar to her father's, and went to kindergarten.

After memorizing their daily schedules, I started searching for the building where my father worked. An unremarkable two story building with a decent security system caught my attention. I had seen my father enter it several times. With my abilities, sneaking in unnoticed was easy when he wasn't there. Looping the security cameras and hacking the computer was made easier by some skills I had picked up and a flash drive with a couple of programs I had gotten from some mercenary acquaintances.

Reports on police work against one of the drug cartels. The capture of several villains. A couple of photos and videos for reporting purposes. Receipts for large transfers to what appeared to be an anonymous account.

I stopped. That was interesting.

Further documents revealed ownership of shares in several large American companies and investment deposits in various projects. It seemed he had decided to become a businessman.

Tracking my father himself was quite difficult. How could it not be? He would disappear with a couple of teleports and that was it. But thanks to access to his computer, I roughly knew where he would be for his work. And I was able to watch his fights.

All that remained was to prepare a plan for our future conversation.

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[Kaneki Scott's Pov "Omnipresent"]

Kaneki was satisfied with the work he had done. Several years of effort had not been wasted. New connections. Money obtained both legally and through less legal means. And an heiress, his daughter, who had fully inherited his Quirk and even more: her mother's Quirk. The legacy of the Quirk that ran in their family would not be broken. In the future, his daughter might fully unlock its potential. All that remained was to properly train her and support her.

The ringing of his phone interrupted his pleasant thoughts. It was Alice's number. She had probably forgotten to buy something and would ask him to buy it himself.

Sighing, he answered the call.

"Hello, Omnipresent. Your wife and daughter are currently visiting me. Would you like to join us? Without your help, they won't be able to get home. I'm waiting for you at the address I'll send you. I suggest you arrive within ten minutes, and don't bring any outsiders. That wouldn't be polite to such a hospitable host as me. I'm waiting."

The kidnapper hung up, his voice strange and metallic. The phone creaked in Kaneki's grip. The calm, stone faced black haired man stared at his screen. A few seconds later, he was gone.

[End Pov Kaneki Scott, "Omnipresent"]

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I waited for him eagerly. I wanted answers to my questions. After so many years, son and father would finally meet again. Hahaha.

How I wanted to squeeze his neck. But maybe he could change my opinion of him? I just had to wait a few more minutes, just a little while. Then everything would become clear. Or maybe not everything. Why was he taking so long? I wanted to see him so badly. I wanted to absorb him.

A man with spiky hair walked casually through the entrance of the warehouse. He was wearing a dark jacket, a burgundy shirt with a V neck, leather pants, and dress shoes. He smiled at me.

"Here I am. But your hospitality isn't great. There's dust and dirt everywhere, and I don't see the other guests. You're not much of a host."

When he appeared, an unexpected calm flooded my mind. I smiled coldly, took off my mask, and said:

"And you're not much of a father. Long time no see, Daddy."

His eyes widened in shock. Black sclerae with red irises stared at me.

"K-Ken. Hahaha. So you decided to have a family reunion in such a unique way? Where's Aika? I don't see her here."

"She's dead."

My smile faded. My father scratched the back of his head, looking awkward.

"Well, this conversation isn't going very well. Now tell me where my wife and daughter are."

His tone became more serious as he looked into my eyes. I calmly studied his face, a face that was rarely serious.

"They're not here. But their safety depends on your answers to my questions. First question: why did you abandon us?"

A foolish expression returned to his face.

"And would you be able to hurt your adorable little half sister?"

I kept looking at him with the same calm gaze. He slumped his shoulders.

"Well, fine. I left because of you. Your Quirk didn't awaken. My Quirk didn't awaken in you."

The calm inside me cracked.

"That's it? Just because of that? Twenty percent of the world's population lives without Quirks. Maybe not as well as people with Quirks, but they live, don't they?"

"Exactly. They live 'somehow.'"

He pointed a finger at me.

"And I want my children to inherit my Quirk and live well. You know how Quirkless people live these days. They can't find good jobs because someone else has a more suitable Quirk. In just two hundred years, ordinary people have become abnormal. Isn't that ironic? And even Quirkless people who have achieved success through truly titanic efforts, like David Shield, have their limits."

He grinned, a slightly mad grin.

"Yes, limits. Who do you think holds power in our world today? The government? Heroes? A flock of sheep that scatter when a villain appears and then watch with interest as a hero beats him?"

A guess began to form in my mind.

"Marriages of convenience based on Quirks."

At my muttering, Omnipresent's grin widened.

"I see you've already figured it out. The old families. Imagine several generations of Quirks that complement each other coming together in one person. The Rockefellers, the English Queen, the Chinese Emperor, even the recently risen Yaoyorozu family are all excellent examples. It's hard to live in Japan without at least hearing about their conglomerate. Searching for people with strong Quirks and arranging marriages of convenience with them is a common trend in the modern world. People often call it immoral, but when has morality ever stopped anyone from pursuing greater power? Any more questions?"

"Why did you change your name?"

"Well, to be honest, that's my real last name. My father was American. When he came to Japan for a certain person, he changed his name so his enemies wouldn't find him. And you've awakened your Quirk too, right? Is it related to space?"

I took out Alice's phone and tossed it aside.

"Yes. But I'm not coming back to you."

"That's a shame. So what about my family?"

Indifferent to their fate, I answered:

"They're visiting Alice's friend. I just stole her phone. But you understand that I can still threaten them, right?"

"Of course, Ken. And after our conversation, you're going to prison for a few years. Cool off a little."

"I doubt it."

My hand pressed the button on the signal transmitter. The fire sprinklers came on, spraying the whole room. Omnipresent frowned.

"Thanks to an acquaintance, I figured out that your teleportation works by swapping the space you sense with your own body. And the more objects there are and the denser they are in that space, the more energy you use."

He stared at me with wide black eyes, red coals burning where his irises should be.

"In this rain, I've got plenty of strength to kick the ass of one arrogant brat."

And he disappeared.

I stabbed behind me in a flash. His first attack was predictable. The scratch on his cheek proved it. He didn't lose his cool. He teleported again. A kick to my back sent me flying several meters. Then his kicks and punches started raining down on me from all directions. But he didn't get away unscathed either. Several bleeding wounds appeared on his arms, and he took a nasty hit to the head.

We stayed evenly matched until he twisted the knife out of my hand and tried to put me in a submission hold. But my free hand touched his stomach. He was too tired to notice. "Rejection."

He flew into the warehouse wall, almost breaking my arm in the process. I used every bit of acceleration I could get from "Choice" and the recoil from "Rejection" to launch myself at him like a rocket. He tried to get up, spitting blood. With sadistic pleasure, I kicked his teeth out with a spinning kick, using all the momentum from my launch.

I sat down on the hero's groaning body. My hands, now covered in Dark Matter, squeezed his throat. I looked at his beaten, bloodied face and said:

"Maybe my reason for killing you is just a petty childhood grudge. But I don't care. You're a real piece of trash, and I'm glad to be squeezing your neck. Don't worry, I won't kill my little half sister."

The shimmering streams of life force lit up the warehouse.