Early mornings in Musutafu usually smelled of dampness and hope, but today the air seemed electric. Shota Aizawa, accustomed to trusting his instincts more than official reports, decided not to wait until classes started and to question Taiko at his home. Principal Nezu hadn't given him the opportunity last time.
Aizawa was silently approaching his student's home when the screeching of brakes cut through the silence of the street. The black car came to a halt, and Aizawa, acting on reflexes honed by years of nighttime heroics, instantly vanished into the shadows of a nearby alley.
Taiko staggered out of the car. He looked as if he'd been through a meat grinder: his clothes in tatters, his face bruised, his hand pressed to his ribs. He was supported by Kuinn, whose pale face seemed like a wax mask in the predawn light. The third was a man—Kaito. His movements were abrupt, jerky, laced with animalistic anxiety.
Taiko suddenly lunged forward, nearly knocking Kuinn off her feet, and grabbed Kaito's collar with a death grip. In the morning silence, his voice sounded like the crack of a whip:
—Kaito, don't you dare! Do you hear me?! Don't you dare leave him there alone!— Taiko shook the man, ignoring his own pain. —I can't lose my only brother! Understand?! Come back!
—Taiko, be careful, you can't strain yourself like that!— Kuinn panicked, touching his shoulder, trying to pry his fingers free. —You can barely stand...
Kaito exhaled heavily, looking into the boy's eyes, filled with rage and despair, recognizing a familiar trait in Nomura. It made him think that perhaps they really were brothers. He gently but firmly released his grip.
—I think you can handle this on your own,— he said, avoiding his direct gaze. —I never intended to abandon him. I really don't understand what's going on, but if you're truly close to Nomura... He's really changed a lot.
The man jumped into the car, and the engine roared, disturbing the peace of the sleeping quarters.
Aizawa digested the information for a split second. «Brother? The only one? Taiko has no brothers listed in his personnel file.»
The car had already started moving. Shota knew this was his only chance to untangle the thread of truth from this tangle of lies. With one short, precise motion, he tossed the tracking chip. A barely audible "ding"—and the device attached itself magnetically to the rear bumper of the speeding car.
Taking a deep breath, Aizawa stepped out of the shadows.
«It's no secret that UA maintains a personnel file on every student. Characteristics, biography, assets, even family tree. The academy has a large database. But Taiko looks like a black sheep there.»
At that moment, Taiko had already slumped down on the curb, breathing heavily. Kuinn, her hands shaking, pressed the phone to her ear, calling an ambulance.
—T-teacher... Aizawa?— Taiko raised his head. A spark of recognition flashed in his gaze for a moment, which Nomura, hidden within this body, couldn't suppress.
Shota stopped a few steps away, crossing his arms over his chest. His scarf-grip moved slightly, as if it were a living being.
—I have too many questions, Taiko,— Aizawa's voice was dry and cold. —And I suspect you'll be able to answer some of them right now. You know, I've been keeping an eye on you since day one. Your biography always seemed murky to me—too many blank spots and not a word about 'brothers.'
Aizawa narrowed his eyes slightly, turning his gaze to Kuinn, who stood frozen with her phone in her hands.
—I know your story with Kuinn. Tragic, touching... The perfect smokescreen. But tell me, Taiko, how many dark sides does this story have that you've chosen to keep silent about? And who is the person for whom you're willing to spit your lungs out onto this concrete?"
The street grew quiet again. Taiko looked at his teacher, and two people battled in his eyes: the frightened teenager and the one who knew the value of every second at Hosu Port.
Aizawa continued, —Do you know a man named Okutami-sama?
Looking closely at Taiko's contorted face, Aizawa immediately realized he was familiar. Suddenly, Taiko's pupils dilated in shock.
—Wait. Did something happen to him?
There was only a pregnant silence in response.
—What happened?!— Taiko persisted.
—He died a couple of hours ago. Most likely of a heart attack. We found his body at his home.
Taiko slowly slid down the wall. He knew perfectly well that his father had heart problems.
—Now it's definitely just my brother left...— he whispered barely audibly, looking up at Kuinn. —...and you.
Aizawa couldn't delay any longer.
—Tell me what you know before it's too late. I can help.
Sighing, Taiko rose, determination in his eyes. However, telling the whole truth wasn't an option now. At least not until his older brother ordered it. —Yes, it's true. I have a brother. Back then, at the market, a villain started stalking us. A very powerful villain. I don't know, maybe he didn't like that I neutralized his robber friends... And apparently he switched to my brother.
Who would have thought that Nomura, in Taiko's body, would have to lie to save the one he'd wished ill on for so long? But...his older brother forgave him, despite all his shortcomings, despite what he'd done. After his older brother touched his forehead, he, in Taiko's body, finally received his older brother's memories. He thought he'd learn everything about Kuinn, that he'd be better off after receiving his memories, but seeing his whole life, all the horror and grief he'd endured, from the horrors of the Kyudai laboratory to that tragic night in Jaku, all of it changed Nomura and made him repent.
—It's true. I have a brother. Back then, at the market, a villain started stalking us. I don't know... maybe he didn't like that I neutralized his robbers, and he turned his attention to my brother.
—So, he's still stalking Nomura Okutami?— Aizawa frowned. —He's your stepbrother?
—He's my blood brother. We were separated at the orphanage.
—What do you know about his Quirk?
Taiko paused, giving his brother some room to maneuver. It would be a miracle if he got out, since Eraserhead himself had intervened. —Nothing. He never mentioned it. I hid his existence so as not to tarnish his reputation in the Okutami family.
Aizawa nodded briefly, already turning away. —Well then. The police didn't get permission to interrogate you because of Principal Nezu. You can thank him for protecting your ass. Now I need to go save your brother.
As Aizawa disappeared and the ambulance siren grew louder, Kuinn asked.
—You said all your brothers... the AFO clones are dead.
—It turns out Kyudai hid one...—Taiko, whose new Ego was Nomura, altered to resemble Taiko, said sadly.
He grabbed Kuinn's hand and smiled.
—Don't worry, you have no idea how strong he is. I can never be like that, even if our consciousnesses switch places... - he said sadly.
...
Aizawa moved quickly, almost at the limit of his ability, following the beacon's signal. However, when he reached the park area on the outskirts of the district, his intuition told him he was too late.
The black car stopped right in the middle of the road, its doors wide open. The interior beeped piercingly—an electronic buzzer signaling an open door, and in the pre-dawn silence of the park, the sound seemed like the death scream of a machine. Aizawa slid to the car and checked the interior: empty. But on the asphalt, right next to the threshold, a fresh red stain glowed. From it, a jagged, heavy trail of blood stretched deep into the dense bushes.
—Oh, my god, what happened here...— whispered Shota, activating the radio on his shoulder. —Detective Tsukauchi, this is Eraserhead. Square 4-12, park area. Abandoned vehicle discovered, suspected assault.— Reinforcements and paramedics are needed. There's a lot of blood here.
Right now, there was no time to ponder why Kaito had taken Taiko and Quinn to their house when he could have called an ambulance and the police here. Maybe he didn't want to arouse suspicion and unnecessary attention? In any case, sometimes people act irrationally.
Without waiting for an answer, he entered the undergrowth. His steps were silent, his eyes red with tension, ready to erase his enemy's quirk at any second. Picking his way through the tangled branches, Aizawa came to a small clearing under an old oak tree.
There, leaning his back against the trunk, sat the man he'd seen just twenty minutes ago. Kaito. His face was paler than chalk, and his right shoulder was a mess of torn fabric and flesh.
—Kaito, right?— Aizawa was at his side in a single bound, instantly assessing the situation. —Hold still. I'll apply pressure to the wound. The paramedics are on their way.
Shota deftly unwound part of his scarf-grabber. The bandages were strong, and now they served as a perfect tourniquet. As he began to wrap the shoulder, his fingers encountered the distinctive edges of the wound.
—Bite?— flashed through the hero's mind. It didn't look like a knife or a bullet. The edges were jagged, deep, as if a chunk of flesh had simply been torn out with teeth. Aizawa was willing to bet that if the jaws had closed a few centimeters higher, on his neck, Kaito would have bled to death in seconds.
—T... there...— Kaito struggled to lift his bloody hand, pointing deeper into the dark park, but the limb immediately fell limply to the grass.
—What? Is anyone else left in the park?— Aizawa whirled around, his scarf moving, hovering around his neck like a cobra poised to strike. He peered into the pre-dawn shadows, expecting to see a monster or a villain.
—N... no...— Kaito croaked through his teeth, overcoming a flash of pain. —Gone...
Suddenly, the radio on Aizawa's shoulder crackled to life, cutting through the park's silence with a sharp static noise. Tsukauchi's voice sounded unnaturally tense, devoid of its usual calm—only a barely suppressed anxiety.
—Port Hosu...— the detective breathed. —Aizawa, please hurry. Something beyond the pale has begun. A couple more heroes will arrive.
Shota froze, his fingers gripping the bandages on Kaito's shoulder for a moment, a little tighter than necessary. Port Hosu. A strategic facility, a labyrinth of steel and flammable materials. If the "powerful villain" Taiko spoke of is there now, the consequences could be catastrophic.
—Understood,— Aizawa replied curtly, rising to his feet. —The wounded man in the park has been stabilized, coordinates have been transmitted. I'm leaving him with the paramedics. I'm heading to Hosu.
***
Monica wasn't alone. Behind her, pushing through a haze of soot, came Toshi, a young officer fresh out of the academy. Sergeant Sato dispatched him with a terse order: —Don't let the detective get killed. We need her stripes to clean up this mess later.
Toshi's quirk, "Zap," allowed him to release the charge accumulated from the friction of his body against clothing. He caught up with Monica at the edge of Sector C-8 just as she paused over the mangled remains of Officer Kato.
The young cop took one look at the carnage—the twisted limbs and tattered blue uniform—and his stomach gave out. He doubled over, the sound of retching echoing dully off the steel walls of the containers.
—Pull yourself together, Toshi,— Monica hissed, even as her own heart pounded against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Before he could apologize, the wind shifted. A huge, rolling wave of yellow sulfur smoke engulfed them like a physical wall. Choking, blinding, and deadly.
—Over there! Now!— Monica grabbed Toshi by his tactical vest and dragged him toward a small reinforced concrete structure: the Sector C-8 security post.
They burst inside, slamming the door and sliding the bolt just as the yellow fog engulfed the windows. The air inside was stale, but breathable. Two shadows stirred in the corner—a port security guard and a terrified worker, huddled under a heavy table.
—Sh-shut up!— the guard whispered, his eyes wide. —It's there. It's circling nearby.— A fragile moment of respite arrived. Toshi leaned against the wall, wiping his mouth with a trembling hand. Monika paused by the door, her fingers hovering a centimeter from the handle, the air around her palm beginning to vibrate faintly—her "Snip Clip" quirk at the ready.
Toshi reached out and grabbed her elbow, looking pleadingly into her eyes. —Wait... listen.
He signaled for everyone to shut up. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant roar of the fire. And then there was *sound*.
*Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.*
Something massive moved through the sulfuric haze. These weren't human footsteps; they were the rhythmic, heavy tread of a half-ton predator. The guard booth groaned as the ground vibrated. The worker and the guard huddled even deeper under the table, while Monica and Toshi pressed themselves against the wall, holding their breath.
Toshi's hand, clutching his service pistol, shook so violently that the metal clanged against his weapon. Monica felt a cold sweat run down her neck. It was a primal, instinctive terror—the feeling of a mouse in the same room with a hungry cat. They hadn't even seen the enemy's face yet, but the very *pressure* of his presence seemed to prevent their lungs from expanding.
The table under which the men were hiding emitted a tiny, almost ultrasonic squeak—the worker stirred in unbearable fear.
The heavy footsteps outside faded.
The silhouette of the Nomu-Tiger appeared through the frosted glass of the post. Tall, hunched, and utterly unnatural. The creature turned its head, catching the vibration. It began to lean toward the door, its heavy breathing instantly fogging the glass from the outside.
Monica braced herself. She was going to strike first. She raised her hand, ready to launch the vibrating blade through the thin wood of the door...
**CRASH!**
Suddenly, a Molotov cocktail smashed right on Nomu's head, flying from the roof of a neighboring hangar.
The beast let out a roar so guttural and deafening that the windows of the security post shattered into dust. Glass shards rained down on Toshi and Monika. The "safe" place was no longer safe.
Nomu-Tiger, its head engulfed in orange flames, no longer spared the booth a single glance. Squealing with rage and pain, it turned toward the source of the fire. Without a second's hesitation, it lunged. With one sweep of its massive claws, it sliced the container in half—the metal shrieked as the sheets of steel parted like paper.
But there was nothing there but billowing yellow smoke. The one who had thrown the Molotov had vanished.
Footsteps were heard, rapidly receding, running deeper into the port. The Nomu began to roar in pain, its claws scraping along the containers following the sound. It barely saw the enemy, but it *smelled*.
The fleeing creature smelled of oil and fuel oil—a heavy, suffocating odor—but through it came a distinct, biological trace. A familiar scent.
The beast took off, driven by a single instinct. It needed blood to regenerate its charred muzzle, and it ran for the first source of life that could "fix" it.
In the ruined booth, Monica stood up, shaking glass from her hair.
—Whoever it was, we now have time to hide. Are these all the workers who couldn't evacuate?— she asked the guard, who nodded frantically, coming to his senses.
The shadow raced away, but with every step, the world around TN grew increasingly blurry. His consciousness sparked like a frayed cable. He slammed hard into the cold steel of a container and slid down, unable to keep his spine straight.
Nomura's body—weak and completely unprepared for such extreme physiological stress—was beginning to fail. The effects of the Sugar Rush were fading fast; in a desperate bid to prevent total self-destruction, his system had begun to extinguish the biochemical fire in his blood. He had a minute left. Maybe less.
A ragged, dry cough tore from his throat. Through the ringing in his ears and the suffocating haze of sulfuric smoke, he strained to spot his pursuer. Behind him, the Nomu-Tiger was still raging. Engulfed in flames from the Molotov cocktail, the beast pulverized everything in its path, its massive form clattering against the iron walls with every erratic movement.
— Damn you... — TN croaked, spitting out thick, dark saliva. — I hope you... drown in this water... Fuck, I can't take it anymore.
His eyes began to roll back. His muscles turned to leaden wool. His legs, obeying some primal residual instinct, shuffled toward the very edge of the harbor pier. TN took one last, trembling step, and the ground beneath him vanished.
There was a brief, weightless sensation of freefall, followed by a searing, violent cold. The water closed over him like a heavy lead blanket. The Sugar Rush shut off completely, plunging his exhausted body into a deep state of shock.
...
— Did you hear that? — Monica froze, her head jerking up. A distinct splash had reached her through the crackling of the fire and the grinding of metal.
— Monica-chan, we don't have time! We need to leave before that damn devil catches our scent! — Officer Toshi tugged at her sleeve, his face contorted with panic.
They had managed to evacuate the last group of workers from the sector, but the air had already turned into a toxic soup.
— We haven't checked everywhere, Toshi! Someone could have been left behind! — We can't take any more risks! Did you see that villain? — Toshi practically shouted, pointing toward the Tiger raging in the smoke. — Only All Might could handle something like that! I don't know about you, but I'm not going to die here. I'm heading to the safe zone to wait for the Pro-Heroes!
The officer turned and vanished into the gray haze. Monica stood alone. Behind her, a literal hell was unfolding: orange flames licked the sky, and from beyond the containers came the furious, inhuman roar of the wounded beast. There could still be someone left!
She took a step. Not toward the safe zone, but toward the edge of the pier. Something within her—a keen detective instinct, or perhaps simply human stubbornness—kept her from leaving. She saw that "black shadow" distracting the beast.
Reaching the edge, she peered into the dark, oily water of the bay. There, amidst the floating debris and slick oil stains, a motionless body was slowly sinking into the dark.
Monica tore off her heavy ammunition belt and unbuckled her holster.
Taking a deep breath, she leaped into the cold abyss after the one who had just saved them all. It seemed she was the only one who understood this, and it seemed she was the only one who noticed his silhouette.
...
Plunged into the icy waters of the bay, TN didn't feel the impact. Instead, he awoke in a different place. The space around him was woven of absolute, impenetrable darkness—so thick it felt tangible, like viscous jelly. Beneath his feet, however, he felt solid, cold ground. Silence reigned here—sedative and devoid of the slightest echo. The pain in his broken ribs and the sting of his burns faded, leaving only a strange, unsettling lightness.
— Could it be that Kyudai has finally caught me? — the thought floated lazily through his clouded mind. — Did he drag me down to another secret level of his damned laboratory? Lock me in a sensory deprivation chamber?
He didn't know how long he sat in that silence before the back of his neck burned with the unpleasant sensation of an alien presence. Someone's intense, unblinking gaze was fixed on him. It wasn't just observation—it was the feeling of a predator frozen a step away from his throat. TN glanced around frantically, but the shroud of darkness was empty. Exhaling, he tried to steady the trembling in his hands, which he could barely feel.
Out of boredom, he began to fiddle in the dust beneath him, shaping castles, craters, and grotesque figures.
— Have you created a personal hell for me, Doctor? Do you watch through your invisible cameras as I dig around in the dirt like a lab rat?
Strangely, the earth—seemingly solid granite—became pliable under his fingers, like warm wax or damp clay. It obeyed his will, taking any shape he desired. TN soon abandoned the task. Something gnawed at him, a deep, pulsing anxiety, but it slipped away like smoke in the wind. A deceptive, sticky feeling emerged—that he had always been here. That the entire world beyond this darkness was just a drawn-out nightmare, and this was his true home.
He stood and walked forward, hoping to find the boundaries of this crypt. He walked for what felt like miles, but the darkness only reluctantly retreated ten meters at a time, revealing new stretches of barren land before closing in behind him. The unknown was his only horizon.
— Did he really build such a testing ground specifically for his Nomu? — TN smiled mirthlessly, the sound of his own voice seeming alien to him. — I bet I'm lying on an operating table right now while Kyudai methodically disembowels me, my mind burning out in this oblivion.
He shook his head, dispelling the intrusive thoughts, when suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something hovering in the void. As he approached, he froze, unable even to cry out.
Directly in front of him, at eye level, two violet eyes floated lazily in the air. Enormous and glowing with a dark light, they were an exact replica of his own. TN reflexively touched his face... and a cold sweat broke out. There was nothing beneath his fingers. His eye sockets were empty hollows. And yet—damn it—he could still see.
— What the hell is going on here?!
The moment he touched the floating spheres, a furious whirlwind of alien memories burst into his consciousness. The battle... All Might in the prime of his power... the familiar, blood-stained streets of Jaku. The imaginary gears in his head began to whirl with a grinding rhythm.
— Why didn't I realize it before? Those aren't my eyes. Those are the eyes of AFO! — Apparently, in that legendary battle with the Symbol of Peace, he had physically lost them, and during the resonance of my abilities, a fragment of his Quirk transformed that energy into a fully functioning organ. Fucking esotericism...
The eyes appeared intact, with shreds of optic nerves trailing behind them like ghostly threads. TN blinked reflexively, and his perspective shifted dramatically. Now, he saw the world through them. What he saw from the outside made his virtual heart skip a beat.
Air was unnecessary. He wasn't breathing. He saw his true form in this space—a rippling black-and-red haze, pierced by the electrical discharges of stolen Quirks. This energy raged chaotically, tearing at his shell from within. The five Quirks he'd absorbed since awakening Oneself thrashed inside him like trapped animals.
— Wait... No. Quirks... six? But I only clearly remember five!
Realization didn't have time to dawn. Suddenly, a hand—huge and cold as a gravestone—grabbed his wrist and jerked him upward toward the invisible sky.
— What hand?! I have no hands! — he wanted to scream, but another hand closed around his throat with a sickening crunch.
Looking down, he saw Him. All For One stood directly beneath him, rapidly growing in size, expanding toward the heavens like a titan. His arrogant, triumphant grin cut through the darkness like a razor. But where his eyes should have been... there were the eyes of TN.
...
A heart-rending, choking cough shattered the silence of reality. TN reflexively clamped a hand over his mouth, retching up salty water laced with fuel oil. His entire frame convulsed. Even as he crossed back into the world of the living, he remained deathly afraid of being heard by the beast.
Peeling back his heavy, swollen eyelids, he looked toward the sky. It was masked by a thick shroud of gray smoke, through which not a single star could have pierced—even if the city hadn't been drowning in light pollution. It was strange; he wondered why his first impulse had been to seek them out.
— Kid, get up, — came a sharp, taut voice. — Once that bastard puts out those flames, he's going to be ten times angrier. We need to move while we can still breathe.
Monica sat beside him on the cold concrete, her chest heaving in ragged bursts. Her clothes were sodden, clinging to her skin, and her dark hair hung in matted, dirty strands around her face. She stared at TN's jet-black hair, recognizing the features of Okutami's son, yet in this flickering light, he looked... different. Older. Someone more ancient and dangerous. When his gaze finally locked onto hers, she quickly looked away, nervously scanning the shoreline for the Nomu-Tiger.
— I swear, I nearly threw my back out hauling you up those rusty stairs to the pier, — she muttered through clenched teeth.
They lay on the freezing concrete for several seconds, simply trying to process the fact that they were still alive. Monica was the first to force herself up. With a sharp, metallic click, she secured her holster, wiped her face with a wet palm, and gripped her pistol so tightly her knuckles turned white.
The world had returned. A cruel world, saturated with soot, sulfur, and the copper tang of fresh blood—a world where a hungry predator had already begun to claw its way out of the water.