#making strides

[coachtfd]

“It’s still no professional league in South Africa, hopes that that will change. But there is pay equity between the men’s national team and the women’s national team. First time that has happened by a major African soccer country.”

- Rob Stone, Fox Sports

Step by step.

🇿🇦

[letleapingfrogsfly]

2019: almost an alcoholic

2020: shot glass...? you mean the serving container for sweet baby rays buffalo sauce, consumed nightly with vegan chicken strips ?

[swiftwidget]

Contained - Chapter Two

Making Strides

Written by @swiftwidget and @aoimikans

Freezing rain fell in a soothing hush outside Naomasa’s bedroom window, carrying into the early hours of morning. Tiny grains of ice tapped and melted against the sill. Raindrops raced down the windowpane. Wind whistled distantly, sending the phone lines along the street swaying.  

Rubbing his aching eyes, Naomasa sighed and reread Gran Torino’s report.

Hatoko Hakuou, the feathered boy who first reported the incident on Dagobah Beach, finally opened up to his assigned counsellor about his experiences. He had been homeless for months after running away from an abusive household. Atsuhiro Sako, a.k.a. Mr. Compress, had provided him clothes and entertainment in exchange for Hatoko’s rooftop photos and ‘spying’ skills. The young boy had only one run-in with other members of the Villain Alliance prior to the beach attack. He’d identified Shigaraki, Kurogiri, and Twice, as well as the three-armed noumu found dead in one of the secret rooms under Espa Clinic.

The most valuable information Hatoko provided was the location of Sako’s apartment. Gran Torino reported that the apartment had been rigged with small explosives. His raiding team expected nothing less of the villain magician.

After evacuating the residents of the building, the bomb squad defused and collected each trap. Most were black market items, and a few were homemade devices. Both would be difficult if not impossible to trace.

Other than the traps, there was little else in the residence. Dust and the cheap furnishings that came with the apartment were all Sako left behind. Nothing that might give them some hint about his habits or the current location of the Villain Alliance. They had to keep looking.

Naomasa sighed heavily and rubbed under his eyes, feeling the start of a headache throbbing between his temples.

“Think I’m going to call it,” he grumbled. Closing his tabs, he shut his laptop with a soft snap and set it on the nightstand. He reached to turn off the lamp -

Thump.

Naomasa paused and glanced curiously at his bedroom door. Just above the quiet hush of wind and rain was the steady creak of slow, padding footsteps.

Toshinori? Naomasa sat up, brows furrowing.

By the time Toshinori’s license paperwork had been filed and dropped onto Chief Tsuragamae’s desk, it was too late to bother returning to U.A. Naomasa’s place was closer. Toshinori was practically asleep on his feet when Naomasa offered his spare bedroom, and after hanging up his coat, Toshinori had stumbled into the room and gone to bed.

So, why was he up now?

Pushing off his comforter with a grunt, Naomasa slid out of bed and wobbled out into the hall. His fingertips traced along the wall, only the faint glow of his bedroom lamp guiding him as he padded down to the guest room. When his fingers brushed against the doorjamb, he stopped and listened again.

Behind the door, the wooden floor creaked under slow dragging footsteps.

What is he…?

Oh.

“Right,” Naomasa sighed and bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, “He lapses at night.”

The footsteps continued. Claws clicked and scraped, back and forth inside the room.

He’s going to exhaust himself, Naomasa realized. His knuckles brushed the wood as he raised his hand to knock.

He hesitated.

The way Toshinori had reacted to Midoriya’s command… The way Toshinori looked at Naomasa - like he didn’t know him. Was it the same at night?

Doesn’t matter, Naomasa shook himself with a heavy sigh, He’s still Toshinori.

A small, determined frown tugged at the corners of his mouth, and Naomasa knocked.

“Toshinori?” he called, “I’m coming in.”

Only rain answered him.

“Alright,” he breathed a sigh and opened the door.

The distant glow of Naomasa’s bedside lamp filtered into the guest room in a wide wedge. Shadows stretched across the floor, contorting across the desk, the empty bed, the blankets strewn across the floor… and Toshinori, slouched against the wall.

He sat curled over his knees. Hugging his arms to his chest, he shivered in the undershirt and boxers he’d worn under his suit. Toshinori’s gaze wandered around the room, unseeing. His eyes blinked in the soft glow, twin pinpricks of hazy blue.

“Toshi-”

Toshinori pressed a trembling hand to his forehead, brows pinched and mouth drawn in a strained line as he finally looked at Naomasa.

“Hey,” Naomasa whispered urgently, stepping into the room, “Are you -?”

Before he could ask, Toshinori’s gaze unfocused and slipped away.

No recognition.

No reaction.

Dread clenched sickeningly in Naomasa’s stomach.

Uncurling, Toshinori rose onto wobbling arms and legs and paced.

“Shit,” Naomasa winced as Toshinori walked a slow line across the room, tail dragging behind him and claws clicking with every step.

That damn storage room at Rishi - Chains, clawed drywall, and bloodied, cracked tiles. - flashed behind Naomasa eyes. Guilt surged like bile at the back of his throat.

If I’d just driven you back…

“Damn it, I’m here now, ” Naomasa snapped, his voice choked and muffled in the suffocating dark.

Treading quietly across the room, Naomasa knelt in front of Toshinori.

“Toshinori…” Naomasa rubbed his forehead, frowning. No commands. Even if they don’t work coming from me, no commands.  

“We have a long day tomorrow. You really need your sleep,” Naomasa urged carefully and sighed when Toshinori brushed passed him. “Can you hear me at all?”

Toshinori paced to the end of the room, turned, and paced back. Head still bowed and shoulders tense, he bared his teeth in a grimace, and his tail twitched uneasily.

He looked… lost.

“Toshinori, ” Naomasa reached out, fingertips brushing against Toshinori’s shoulder. He leaned forward and gently steered Toshinori to face him.

Toshinori flinched. A strained, wavering noise caught in his throat, and his hackles bristled. Unfocused eyes swept across the room, passing over Naomasa as if he weren’t right there.

Searching. Vulnerable.

Afraid.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m right here,” Naomasa shuffled closer and gently pulled Toshinori close, “It’s me… You’re safe. You’re at my place.”

Breathe with me. You’re okay.

Braced against Naomasa’s chest, Toshinori let out a shuddering sigh. Tension slowly bled from his shoulders. His tail settled, and his hackles relaxed.

“That’s it,” Naomasa breathed as Toshinori sank back on his haunches, “You’re alright. You’re - Oh.”

Toshinori slumped against Naomasa, breathing slow and even. His tail swept across the floor and wound around Naomasa’s waist, squeezing firmly.

“Ah - That’s a bit -” Naomasa grunted and pat the tail, nudging it loose with a huff of relief. He gently pat Toshinori’s tail again, “Yeah, you know me. You’re alright.”

Wind swept past the window, blowing through sheer curtains of rain.

Toshinori breathed and murmured quietly in his lapse, shifting closer and more comfortably on his haunches.

Naomasa shook his head with a soft laugh, a slow ache building in his lower back the longer Toshinori clung to him, “What am I going to do with you?”

The rain nearly lulled Naomasa into dozing before a shudder ran through Toshinori.

“Nao..masa?” He croaked and slowly pulled away.

Naomasa let him, resting his hands on Toshinori’s shoulders. There you are.

Brows pinched, Toshinori squinted and massaged his forehead, “Shit… What time is it?”

Naomasa smiled softly and tapped his ear, “It’s about 2AM.”

“Huh,” Toshinori grunted. He ran his hand down his face and let it fall into his lap. Taking a deep breath, he looked around the room, ears twitching.

“I’m on the floor,” he observed, voice hoarse with sleep.

Naomasa snorted and pat Toshinori’s arm, “Yeah. You are. Need help up?”

Toshinori shook his head slowly, tail shifting around Naomasa’s waist. He stilled as his eyes clouded.

“Hey. Are you alright?” Naomasa asked, giving his arm a small squeeze.

Toshinori blinked with a jolt, his focus returning, “I’m - Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t -? Oh…” He grimaced uncomfortably, “I lapsed in my sleep again. Shit.” His ears drooped, and he shot Naomasa an apologetic look, “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Naomasa rubbed the back of his neck, smiling lopsidedly, “Ah, no. I was up.”

“That’s good. I… Up?” Toshinori straightened, brows raised, “Hey now! You’re not overworking again, are you?”

“Wha-?” Naomasa snorted and laughed. The sound filled the room and earned Naomasa a few happy wiggles of Toshinori’s tail around his middle. Naomasa shook his head, chuckling to himself, “You’re one to talk!”

“Hush,” Toshinori huffed with a grin, pulling Naomasa to his feet, “You should have been asleep hours ago.”

Still the same as ever, Naomasa thought as Toshinori ushered him back to his own room, nagging him all the way.

Toshinori clicked his tongue, “Can’t start my first day on the job with you dead on your feet.”

“Going to tuck me in?” Naomasa teased, sitting on the edge of his bed.

The hackles down Toshinori’s neck fluffed up, and he stifled a cough, turning off the lamp. A warm, heavy weight thumped against Naomasa’s chest, knocking him against his pillows.

Toshinori pulled his tail away and padded to the door, a smile in his voice as he called back, “Good night, Naomasa.”

“Get some rest, Toshi,” Naomasa answered, coughing lightly, and rubbed at his chest.

Toshinori grunted in reply from the hall. The guest room door shut with a soft clack.

Chuckling, Naomasa leaned back into his pillows.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but the alarm and anxiety of seeing Toshinori’s night lapse had disappeared. It was a marvel how easily Toshinori managed to wash those worries away - even without meaning to.

Naomasa’s hand rested on his chest, fingertips brushing over the pleasant ache that had nothing to do with Toshinori’s tail.

It was warm… and incredibly fond.

Jean-Baptiste Bellamy’s knowing look and chuckle floated to the forefront of Naomasa’s thoughts again: “I don’t need to be an Empath to know that look.”

Oh no... Naomasa groaned and covered his ecstatically distraught grin.

After a large breakfast of eggs and rice - courtesy of Toshinori’s own home cooking - and some friendly banter, he and Naomasa returned to the police precinct.

“First day back,” Naomasa chimed, holding the door open for Toshinori, “How are you feeling?”

Toshinori grinned and ducked inside, shivering as the musty, dry warmth of the building rushed over him, “Excited.”

His tail swayed pleasantly as he followed Naomasa down the hall, a familiar energy prickling up his spine. He reached into his freshly washed suit jacket pocket, and his claws brushed over his wallet and updated license, “Just happy I can help. Sitting around is not one of my strengths.”

“Ha! That’s true. Looks like I’ll be depending on you again, All Might, ” Naomasa smiled as he entered the conference room. Taking off his hat and coat, he hung them on the rack and greeted someone in the room, “Good morning.”

“Power Loader!” Toshinori grinned, closing the door behind him, “I’m surprised to see you here. Did the police contract you for the abduction case?”

Higari Maijima snickered and held up a large metal briefcase, “No. I’m here for you actually.”

“For me?” Toshinori asked, ears and tail perked.

The metal briefcase was familiar. Silver and thick, it resembled the cases his students used to store their…

Toshinori stared in disbelief, “Is that what I think it is?”

Maijima grinned wide.

“I’ve been working on this since you resumed teaching,” he said, stepping back as Toshinori approached the case, “Most of U.A.’s pro-hero faculty wear their suits while teaching. Especially during practical training. It was only right for you to have one.”

Toshinori only half-heard him. He ran his palms over the case. Where the students’ cases had numbers on the sides, this one bore his All Might AM emblem.

“When I heard you were getting approved to work with police as a reinstated pro-hero,” Maijima continued, “Well, I had production fast-tracked.”

Toshinori slipped his claws under the latches, flicked them up, and opened the case. A grin split his face.

“It’s a more subtle design,” Maijima said, leaning around to peek into the case, “but we in the support department tried to stay true to your usual flare. Even used Patented Shield technology to maintain the integrity and durability of the fabric.”  

Toshinori’s ears perked and tail wagged at the familiar surname. He pulled the dark blue, full body suit from the case and held it up. The sleek material was tough and padded on the inside. Broad, white lines cut up the sides of the legs and torso. Twin lines ran down the sleeves, joining in a point over the wrists.

Toshinori’s grin widened, brushing his clawed thumb over the diamond design at the center of the chest. It was a wonderful homage to his Golden Age suit.

A flash of golden yellow caught his eye, and he flipped the suit around. Framed by the curved white bands across the shoulder blades and hips was a swath of golden yellow. It swept from his back and down the top of the tail sleeve.

Brows furrowing curiously, Toshinori ran his claws down the center of the back.

“Is there something here to accommodate my spikes?” he asked.

Maijima’s iron fingertips clicked together in delight as he took the suit and laid it out on the table. He traced the center of the back, “Feel along here.”

Toshinori did, running his knuckles along the material. It was rougher than the rest of the suit, “What is it?”

“Hatsume Mei was working on a permeable, memory mesh for young Miss Yaoyorozu,” Maijima explained. He took Toshinori’s hand and plucked off a claw cap. Guiding his claw inside the suit, he pressed it through the material and back out. The hole in the material slipped seamlessly closed.

Interesting, Toshinori experimentally pressed his claw against the strip from the outside.

It didn’t slip through.

“One way permeation?” Toshinori asked, smiling.

“Exactly that!” Maijima confirmed with an enthusiastic snap of his fingers.

Toshinori returned to the case and chuckled as he pulled out the utility belt. He ran his hand over the bold red belt buckle, tracing along the golden V on its face - a simpler version of his classic buckle.

Maijima reached past him and pulled out dark gray knee guards and a pair of smaller guards, “These are for your hocks. They’re similar to the Rabbit Hero Miruko’s footwear - sturdy, but flexible.”

He set the guards aside and pointed to a pair of single-lens shades.

“A reflective eye-shield to protect both your eyes and your identity,” he explained. The lens reflected gold in the office light.  

“And these?” Toshinori asked, picking up the last few items. He smiled at the familiar shapes.

“I took the liberty to upgrade your running gloves. Reinforced the knuckles and increased the pads’ grip strength,” Mijima said. Then he snickered, pointing to the similar pair, “I happened to mention the issues you have with footwear to my student. Give his feet gloves , she said. How remarkably simple.”

Toshinori barked a laugh, turning over the footwear in his hands. They resembled his gloves in all but shape. Reinforced material covered the toes, and each ended in holes for his claws.

“Your student could tackle the Gordian knot with no problem, I have no doubt,” he said, shaking his head, “The innovation of these young ones…”

Maijima proudly puffed out his chest, “They are something, if not trouble.”

“Trouble and greatness seem to come hand in hand,” Toshinori murmured knowingly, his own trouble-fraught successor coming to mind. He pat the blue-gray vest, “A tactical vest?”

“Some added protection on patrol and -” Maijima laid the vest over the suit’s chest - “To disguise the more recognizable flare until you go public. Low profile.”

Naomasa snorted, leaning against the wall of the conference room, “Unless he speaks, you mean.”

“Hey now!” Toshinori spluttered, hackles fluffing indignantly, “I can be low profile!”

Naomasa’s brows rose, and he laughed, “Until we have a raid or rescue operation -” He straightened his shoulders, jutting out his chest, “ It’s alright! I am here! ”

Toshinori stiffened, “Hey, hey -”

Maijima snickered, “Yes, sadly the Support Department can’t help with that.”

Ears burning, Toshinori looked back and forth between the two, “Teasing an old man. You should be ashamed.”

Naomasa nudged him playfully, “Quit. You’re not that old.”

Smiling, Maijima folded the suit back into the case and handed it to Toshinori.

“Suit up, please. I’d like to check the fine tuning.”

Toshinori zipped up the front of his new hero suit and clipped the belt around his waist, adjusting the red utility pouches on either side. Closing his eyes, he stretched and felt out the material. It was cool against his skin, but warmed quickly. Soft but secure in its weight and density. The fabric twisted smoothly along with his movements - no straining or catching. Barely a whisper of a noise.

Swinging his tail in slow, wide arcs, Toshinori tested the tail sleeve. The sleeve length covered a third of his tail and comfortably adjusted to his movements.

Satisfied, Toshinori flexed his fingers.

The gray gloves were quite the upgrade. The knuckles were armored, and the palms and fingers were padded underneath. The pads were different than his previous pair. Rather than solid masses, they were made of tightly packed slips of rubbery-velvet material. Matching pads covered the soles of his footwear.

Bouncing lightly on his toes, Toshinori grinned at how sturdy yet unobstructive the shoes felt. Flexible, but supportive; they had plenty of room for the partial webbing between his toes. His claws stuck out of holes in the front of each toe, including his dewclaws on the inside of each foot.

Going to the large mirror, Toshinori gave himself a full once-over. A slow grin lit his face as he twisted back and forth, and a burning sense of purpose swelled in his chest.

The pro-hero suit fit this body.

Fit his body.

Fit him.

“Ha! Imagine that,” Toshinori laughed breathlessly and traced around the golden yellow diamond at the center of his chest, “What age comes after golden? I wonder…”

The precinct locker room door squeaked, and Toshinori perked his ears as it opened.

“There you are! Admiring the Support Department’s work?” Maijima snickered as he walked up to Toshinori, inspecting the suit.

Naomasa followed after him, grinning lopsidedly, “What do you know! It fits.”

Toshinori chuckled, looking down at himself and spread out his arms, “It does. Your department did wonderful work. It feels incredible.”

Maijima stifled a laugh, and Naomasa snorted.

“We can tell,” Naomasa said, pressing his hand to Toshinori’s chest, “You’re purring again.”

Toshinori coughed in surprise, and his ears flicked. He felt his chest and, sure enough, it vibrated along with his breathing.

“I -” He cleared his throat and bashfully swallowed the noise, “I didn’t realize.”

Tilting his head curiously, Maijima turned Toshinori by his hips and examined his back, “Why haven’t you pushed your Ridged Mane through? The memory mesh runs all the way down your tail, you know.”

“Push it through?” Toshinori asked, twisting as Maijima pinched and pulled at the fabric.

“You can change the rigidity of your hair,” the inventor elaborated with stiffly splayed fingers,  “I assumed it was more comfortable having it out rather than pressed under your clothes.”

“That’s true,” Toshinori paused, shifting as the mane line rubbed against his skin, “I’ll admit I’ve never purposely tried to.”

The only times he’d felt the change was halfway into a lapse.

Toshinori pursed his lips. How had it felt? It was… a tense prickling down his spine -

“Ah-ha!” Maijima crowed in delight and ran an iron fingertip along the rigid line of hair. It screeched quietly, like scrubbing rust with a wire-bristle brush, “ Natural born hero indeed. Nothing you can’t master. Fantastic, the mesh didn’t tear...” he murmured, examining the fabric.  

Toshinori and Naomasa shared a sideways look, and Toshinori chuckled. Breathing slowly out, he let the mane relax.

“So,” Naomasa leaned against a locker and tapped his ear, “You think the suit is ready for the field, Power Loader?”

There was a barely there teasing lilt to Naomasa’s voice.

Toshinori glanced back at him, giddy suspicion fluttering at the base of his ribs.

“I’d say so,” Maijima replied, handing Toshinori the bulletproof vest, “Just remember to wear this before you head out.”

Toshinori stared down at the vest, then back up to Naomasa.

Naomasa rocked up and away from the locker, “Great. I guess that means you’re partnering up with me today.”

Toshinori gaped and pulled at his suit, “You knew about this?”

“I might have heard something about it,” Naomasa admitted with an amicable shrug. At Toshinori’s dumbfounded look, Naomasa smiled, “You didn’t think we’d coop you up in the office all day, did you? You’d be stuck with paperwork here. And personally, I’d like to find the abductees this decade.”

Toshinori winced, grinning sheepishly, “Fair point.”

He shook his head and stood taller, “Where are we starting?”

“First, team meeting -” Naomasa pointed his thumb back toward the conference room - “Then, we’ll be paying a visit to Dr. Tsubasa’s old office.”

Sainte Marie, Mčre de Dieu, priez pour nous pécheurs, maintenant, et ŕ l'heure de notre mort. Amen.

Jean-Baptiste Bellamy thumbed his rosary in his pocket, looking over the list of missing persons who were not yet confirmed victims of the Good Doctor - Dr. Tsubasa.

Nine were confirmed with evidence left behind. Namely, the oily transmission fluid staining the ground where they were last seen or expected to be. There were a few dozen missing persons reported in the area on the unconfirmed list. Most of them had been missing prior to Toshinori Yagi’s rescue at Espa Clinic, where the doctor apparently first showed interest in “making more like” Yagi. Another six were reported post-Espa. Their cases were being looked into for any trace of the transmission residue.

Mary Shin walked up to the board and took down the picture of a middle-aged woman. She held it up, “Found safe with her lover. Husband came home from a business trip early. I guess she didn’t tell him she’d be away for the weekend.”

“Oh dear,” Jean-Baptiste chuckled softly.

Mary’s amusement rolled off her in waves, brushing like a warm breeze against his skin and drowning out the mixed, roiling buzz of the precinct’s collective mood.

A static jolt fizzled in the air as Vera Lang sat up in her chair, fingers retracing the line on her braille smart bar.

“Find something?” Wright asked, glancing up from his coffee. His curiosity was warm and languid, stirring awake as he sipped from his mug.  

Vera hummed, sliding the smart bar across the paper file, “I’m noticing a pattern similar to our opioid case. More supplies were sent to the Espa Clinic through Rishi General Hospital than the clinic has on record. A small amount was reported as damaged in transit but it’s likely they were sold for cash to local gangs if not the black market. Whether Espa is the supply line for the Doctor...?” She shrugged and sighed, “Can’t be sure yet. It’s hard to trace these things when you halt the supply. How are things on your end?”

“The request to release records of Tsubasa’s personal assets haven’t come back yet, but we have enough to get us started,” Wright flipped through a printed transcript of the U.A. students’ interview, “Look for any supply records that mention the Children’s Evazan Clinic. Even if Tsubasa moved on, he might still have some sway there.”

Turning to Officer Tamakawa, Wright asked, “Do we know if samples from the winged noumu were sent to evidence?”

Sansa startled. A flurry of bashful alarm alighted in Jean-Baptiste’s chest, echoing Sansa’s own butterflies as he tore his gaze from Alba Tyto.

Sansa cleared his throat and checked his phone, “No update, but the request was approved to pull a sample from the noumu’s remains. Shouldn’t take long.”

The door swung open, and Detective Tsukauchi stepped inside.

“Good morning, Detective,” Mary called, “Oh!”

Following behind Detective Tsukauchi, standing tall and radiating confidence was Toshinori Yagi. He wore a new blue, white, and gold suit in the style of his golden age costume.

The legend himself, Jean-Baptiste grinned at the tingling, champagne awe dancing across his skin. Bright sparks zinged through his fingertips as Genji gaped wide-eyed at Yagi, hands flapping ecstatically at stomach level. Ever the fanboy.

Mary’s plants - over a dozen set on every available surface - grew taller and greener.

Yagi grinned as he playfully saluted to the group and called warmly, “I am here! To do what I can to help.”

“Welcome!” Vera called, “You sound well.”

“I’ve had plenty of time to rest!” Yagi laughed, tail swaying contently behind him.

A twitch of a smile broke through Detective Tsukauchi’s professional mask, and he crossed to the whiteboard, “Wright, what are your team updates and assignments?”

“Bellamy and Shin are on abduction confirmations,” Wright pointed to the two.

Mary nodded to the list of possible abductees, “Ito is accounted for, and no new missing persons have been reported.”

Jean-Baptiste thumbed his rosary again, considering the remaining missing persons on the possible abductees list, “Based off officer reports, Shin’ya Misawa may be the tenth abductee. He disappeared more than a few days ago but wasn’t reported missing until late last night by an online friend. No residue found at his residence, but his keys, wallet, and a pair of shoes were missing. It may be that he was abducted outside his home.”

“And with the recent rain…” Yagi thought aloud.

“There may not be residue left to find,” Tsukauchi finished.

“A sudden disappearance outside the home fits the Good Doctor’s M.O.” Mary tapped on the map beside a pinned building, “And Misawa’s apartment is only a couple blocks from where Sunaba was taken. We’ll keep you updated if there’s more.”

Wright pulled a stack of records from one of the many file boxes on the conference table, “Lang, Tsuda, and I are on the supply chain and making a list of suspicious activity. Narrowing down where to request search warrants could help speed up the investigation.”

“I may be able to help with that.”

Yagi’s assured statement dropped like a pebble into still water. The room quieted, curiosity rippling through the air.

He approached the board, claws clicking and ears perked as he considered the map, “When I was captured, my first priority was figuring out where I might be. It had to be a medical facility based on the smell and nurses, fairly close to where I was abducted, and the building clearly had unused but functional space. Somewhere accessible, but not where anyone could accidentally stumble upon it. Rishi General is one of the few hospitals with older buildings that were never updated to accommodate non-standard human bodies and quirks.

“Espa Clinic was the same. A clinic on the ground level, but older structures underneath.”

Vera snapped her fingers and pointed in Yagi’s direction, “And if we cross reference the supply chain and properties with excess space, we can narrow down the places where abductees could be kept.”

“Property layouts are public record,” Alba clicked her beak thoughtfully, “Should be easy enough to obtain.”

Tsukauchi pointed between Tamakawa and Alba, “I’ll leave public records to you two.”

“Yes, sir,” Tamakawa saluted.

“The sooner we find them, the better,” Yagi said, rubbing his chin as he examined the photos pinned to the whiteboard.

“Do you think the Doctor will alter them as fast as All for One altered you?”

Yagi stiffened for a fraction of a second, barely a pause, but a glassy chill echoed through the room. Goosebumps shivered across Jean-Baptiste’s skin, and a sickening sense of vertigo yanked at his stomach. Something heavy, suffocating, and deafening - like a thick blanket of snow - thrummed around Yagi.

Clutching his rosary, Jean-Baptiste leaned carefully against the conference table, What in the world -?

When Yagi turned to Wright, he smiled thinly and shrugged.

“Hard to know for sure, but I think it’s safe to assume the Good Doctor will take his time,” he said, carefully neutral. Resting his hands on his utility belt, he furrowed his brow in thought, “In my case, All for One wanted to create a mindless weapon. So, he kept me disoriented and under strain while developing new, heteromorphic quirks. After twenty-two days, I escaped with seven new quirks in total -” Pausing, Yagi counted on his clawed fingers and nodded - “Two or three quirks a week if you average it out.”

Jean-Baptiste stared at Yagi as the suffocating sensation slowly faded to a background buzz. It was… familiar. He felt it when Yagi was first brought in from Espa Clinic, and it drove him into the quiet corners of the precinct to recenter.

Yagi continued, seemingly unfazed by the strange haze coming from him, “All for One’s plan failed, despite his efforts.” He gestured to himself, “Based on what I remember from Espa, the Doctor implied interest in recreating the results All for One got: a cognitively intact ... multi-quirk individual. We also have to take into account that he is experimenting on at least nine people. If he isn’t reckless, he’ll work slow enough to keep the physical and mental health of each abductee manageable. Not everyone reacts to additional quirks well.”

Alba’s head tilted, large dark eyes glinting curiously, “How do you know that?”

Yagi and Tsukauchi shared a glance, and Jean-Baptiste felt the elastic snap of knowing.  

Tsukauchi scratched at his ear, “In the past, All for One made many allies by giving them booster type quirks to compliment their existing abilities. Boosting strength, boosting endurance, enhancing emitter-type quirks.”

Jean-Baptiste’s brows rose, and shock rippled across the room in waves.

Yagi hummed darkly, “Most of his followers are in prison. I made certain of that during my career. But there were those that didn’t take well to the additional quirk. They were very similar to the noumu used by the League of Villains, mentally strained and unresponsive. Usually abandoned.”

“So, even if we find them quickly, there is still a chance we’ll be too late...” Alba whispered.

Lips pursed in a grim line, Mary asked, “Is it possible the Doctor hasn’t started yet? They could still -”

“It isn’t likely,” Yagi shook his head and gave Mary a soft smile, “I think it’s safe to assume that they each have one added quirk by now. Possibly two for the first few abductees.”

The strange, sluggish weight stirred around Yagi, and Jean-Baptiste finally spoke up, tapping his own temple, “Is that the strain? That hazy feeling at the back of your head?”

Yagi’s brows rose, his gaze fixing on Jean-Baptiste. His ears twitched low, and shame sunk like a stone, echoing in Jean-Baptiste’s gut.

“Oh. Empath is your quirk. Right.” Yagi ruffled his hair, “Yes, there’s a kind of mental fog. It’s manageable, for the most part. I’m sorry you have to feel that … too.” Straightening, Yagi’s hackles bristled up his back.

“All Might?” Tsukauchi cautioned, brows pinched.

“If you feel something once, do you think you could identify a similar feeling if you run into it again?” Yagi asked, blue eyes piercing.

“I recognize emotions and moods I’ve felt before, yes.” Jean-Baptiste confirmed. A slow smile lit his face, mirroring the growing grin on Yagi’s.

“And how’s your quirk range?”

“Wide enough for most buildings.”

Yagi twisted, “Tsukauchi, how many officers are patrolling around medical centers?”

Tsukauchi checked his pocket notebook, “Six total patrol officers and the two of us today.”

“Add Bellamy to that list -” Yagi turned back to Wright - “If he can remember the feeling of the fog -”

“He will know if the abductees are in the building,” Wright finished, a determined glint in his eye, “Clever.”

Taeka groaned, focus hazy. Shifting  in   and    out.

The floor was like ice beneath her. The chill sunk through her clothes and fur. She stirred and slowly pushed herself up on trembling arms, wincing at the heavy ache in her back.

“A-ah… Ow.” Taeka croaked, blinking the bright, dizzying dots of lights from her eyes.

Fuck.

Her wings gave a weak, irritable flap, scattering down feathers across her cell. They’d already doubled in size in… according to Souma, only a day. As the down fluttered to the floor, more golden-brown adult feathers took their place. Still growing steadily in.

Releasing a shuddering pant, Taeka stood and carefully tucked the wings against her back. Hot and cold prickling raced through the new limbs. She squeezed her eyes shut at the sensation and grit her teeth.

“Are you feeling better, dear?”

Taeka stiffened - relaxing only when she recognized Nozomi’s voice. She turned to the older woman and shrugged half-heartedly, “I - Hrk! ”

Taeka’s stomach roiled . Nausea pressed thickly at her throat. She gagged and rushed to the other side of her cell. Grabbing the bucket by her cot, she doubled over and retched into it until there was only bile.

Body aching, Taeka coughed and wiped her mouth, “Sorry…”

Nozomi pressed her hand against the glass between them, “You have nothing to be sorry about. You should drink some water, Taeka. Morning sickness is no laughing matter.”

“Not laughing,” Taeka shuddered, feeling a wave of heaviness settle over her limbs.

Tired…

She bent, resting her forehead against the cool wall…

The lock to her cell clacked!

Taeka jolted and looked up from the floor, gasping softly  as  the   world    spun.

“Oh, good. Still responsive. You had me worried,” A familiar voice intoned.

Taeka whirled, claws out, and bared her teeth. Gaze fixed on the Doctor, she snarled, “Fuck off!”

Standing outside her cell, the Doctor chuckled and and tipped a dustpan into the biohazard bin. A few down feathers fluttered to the floor in a ring outside the bin.

She watched  them fall.

Wait -

Taeka blinked as the world righted itself again and looked around her cell, confusion clenching in her chest.

Her cell was clean. The feathers were gone. A fresh bucket was placed by her cot.

When did he -?

“You were so docile a moment ago. I’m almost disappointed,” The Doctor laughed. He pointed to the bottles of water and sports drinks in the front corner of her cell, “Drink. You’re dehydrated.”

Taeka shuddered with a grimace. An odd pressure  grew behind her eyes.

Shaking her head, she snapped, “As if you care! You did this!”

The Doctor shrugged, indifferent, “Believe what you like, but don’t make me come back with an IV. I’m only looking after your best interests.”

With that he turned and unlocked Souma’s cell. He placed a paper bag on the floor before locking it again, “Out of the tub today? Good. I’ve brought you a change of clothes. Change into them now. I’d don’t want you catching pneumonia, even with your newfound temperature control,” he tutted, muttering to himself, “Another scorching fever might do long term damage.”

Steam hissed from Souma’s freckled bronze scales as he flipped the Doctor off, signing something else that made Mirai snort. Judging by his sharp gestures and the Doctor’s frown, it was something insulting. Good.

Taeka allowed herself a twitch of a smile and carefully leaned against the glass. Her wings drooped larger and heavier than before. Aching. Overwhelming.

She rubbed at the small curve of her belly and fought against the heaviness in her limbs.

They’re all still fighting…

She sighed, eyelids drooping. Her wings wrapped over her shoulders.

“Taeka?” Nozomi whispered, voice distant.

“Now, let’s see,” the Doctor tsked and rummaged through the small fridge. Glass vials clicked softly against each other, like little bells.

“Taeka, are you alright?” Nozomi whispered urgently.

Working on it. Hold on, Taeka thought, drowsy. The wings were so heavy.

“Chris Kougami,” the Doctor held up and tapped on a red-filled syringe. He turned and pushed his glasses up onto his forehead, “Why don’t we get you started?”

“-ka… Taeka!”

Taeka jerked awake, claws flexing.

Outside their cells, the morgue was empty. The Doctor was gone.

Mirai’s voice cut through her hazy thoughts, “Taeka, look!”

Head throbbing, Taeka grit her teeth and dug her claws into the tile floor, tail slashing irritably, “Just - give me a moment -”

She shook herself, feathers bristling. Nausea lurched in her gut, and she swallowed roughly. The dizzying, cottony weight pressed behind her eyes, only receding after she took slow, deep breaths.

“Okay…” Taeka settled back on her haunches, “Okay, what is it?”

Shhhhhff…

“That.”

Across the room, something slid under the door. It swirled against the tile in a winding line, slowly slithering closer.

Sand? Taeka rose and hesitantly approached the front of her cell.

The stream of sand rose from the floor and prodded at the cell doors, eventually finding the metal flap of the meal slot in her own.

“Woah woah woah,” Taeka backed away as the sand rushed through the slot and gathered in a pile by her paws.

The sand spread out and twisted, finally forming letters.

“Taken? Us too.”

“... What?” Taeka hesitantly reached out.

“What is it?” Chris asked, voice quivering. He curled over himself, cradling his arm as he leaned in to look.

“Not sure,” Taeka murmured and smeared a line through the last word.

The sand shivered and swirled again, words disappearing. A small rectangle of sand formed in their place. Above the box and connected to it with a cartoonish arrow were the words, “Write here!”

“Write here?” Nozomi read as Souma spelled out the words for Mirai.

“Souma says it could be a trick,” Mirai called from her cell.

Nozomi shook her head and ran her fingers down her long, gray braid. Bright pink and yellow splotches blossomed across the back of her hands.

“And if it isn’t?” she asked, hopeful, “We may not be alone here.”

Shivering, Chris curled tighter as his stomach gurgled loudly, “I don’t know… Maybe?”

The sand shifted again, “ Hello? ”

Taeka pursed her lips and wrote back: “ Who are you? How many is ‘us?’”

The sand shivered, forming a crude map with an X, “ 5 here. Down the hall. We’re trapped. ”

Taeka stared at the little map and the room marked with the X.

“Five more people?” Chris gaped at the words on the floor. He shuddered and curled over his abdomen with a wince. Blunt claws brushed over his deltoid, “Do you think… They’re going through the same thing?”

Oh, Taeka caught his fearful glance at her aching, growing wings. Realization twisted in her stomach, He has one now too.

She brushed gently at the sand, and it changed into the same blank slate. She wrote, “Were you taken by that doctor, too? Changes?”

There was a long pause. Finally the sand moved again, “Yes. To both. Injections. Hurts.”

The sand quickly returned to the slate.

Taeka bit her lip, letting out a shaky sigh, “Us too.”  

“How did they know we were here?” Mirai wondered aloud, brows furrowed as she peered over Souma’s tub.

Taeka repeated the question.

The sand swirled, “Shin’ya’s quirk. He can look around when he sleeps.”

“Ask if -”

But Taeka was already writing, “ Does he know where we are? ”

“Shin’ya says it looks like a hospi -”

The sand suddenly swirled in a nonexistent wind and whipped out of Taeka’s cell. It swept across the room and under the far counter, flattening into a barely visible line against the shadowed wall.

“H-hey!” Chris called out, lurching for the door of his cell only to crumple and curl in on himself with a startled groan, “What - ow - ... What happened to the sand?”

Taeka shushed him gently, crouching low and still, and watched the door.

Footsteps grew closer. Two pairs, the Doctor’s sharp steps and the noumu’s heavy, barefoot thumps.

Keys jangled sharply, and the deadbolt clicked.

“Are you all feeling rested?” the Doctor asked as he shuffled inside and hung up his coat. Behind him, the masked noumu lumbered inside and sat in its usual corner.

The Doctor turned and looked over each of them, his gaze pausing briefly on Taeka.

Taeka glared right back, tense.

Humming, the Doctor turned to Chris, “Hungry?”

Chris hugged his abdomen, hunching over himself. His stomach gurgled, and he flinched.

“Interesting,” the Doctor murmured, his bushy mustache twitching with his grin.

It was odd and thrilling all at once, Toshinori decided, walking down the crowded sidewalk beside Naomasa. Civilians bundled in their coats and scarves passed by, barely sparing him a glance. The few that did, looked up with mild curiosity and away again.

Just like they had before Kamino.

No one recognized him.

Toshinori brushed a claw against the golden reflective visor covering half his face and found the small button beside his left ear. The visor shrunk into single-lens shades perched on his nose.

“Having fun?” Naomasa asked, discreetly arching a brow Toshinori’s way.

Toshinori grinned, tail wagging and nearly knocking over another pedestrian. He waved in apology and chuckled, “Just familiarizing myself. My old suits didn’t have so many gadgets.”

Naomasa shook his head with a small smile and checked his phone, “Up here.”

Children’s Evazan Clinic sat nestled between a florist and a small grocery. It was surprisingly plain. The face looked like any other office front, small windows on either side of the glass waiting room door. “Children’s Evazan Clinic” and the clinic hours covered the top half of the door in recently reapplied painted letters.

Bells jangled above the door as they walked inside.

The smell hit Toshinori like a sledgehammer as Naomasa approached the woman at the front desk.

Antiseptic. Cleaning agent. Dust. Sick.

Chains. Blood. The taste of latex and bile.

“Oji-san?” a tiny voice called.

Toshinori let out a slow breath and looked down at the child tugging on his pant leg.

“Hana,” the girl’s mother called, half out of her seat in the small waiting room. She shot Toshinori an apologetic look before beckoning, “Why don’t you leave the nice man alone and come color?”

“Are you a hero?” the little girl, Hana, asked instead.

Toshinori waved at her mother with a lopsided smile and crouched in front of the girl.

“Yes, I’m a hero,” he said, chuckling as Hana - barely older than a toddler - pulled at his hand and began running her palm against the glove’s pads.

“What’s your name?”

Toshinori grinned wider, tail thumping against the thinly carpeted floor when Hana’s mother huffed a soft, embarrassed laugh, “Yagi.”

“Like a goat!?” the girl shrieked, delighted.

“I’m so sorry,” Hana’s mother rushed over, scooping up her giggly girl, “We’re still working on inside voices.”

“No, it’s alright!” Toshinori laughed and stood, his anxious jitters eased, “She’s just fine.”

Hana’s mother paused, brows raised curiously, “There’s… something familiar about you. Have we met?”

“Yagi,” Naomasa called from the front desk, nodding toward the woman next to him.

“It was nice to meet you both. Bye-bye, Hana,” Toshinori said, grinning only wider as the girl hid in the crook her mother’s neck in a bout of playful shyness.

“Just back here, Detective,” the middle-aged woman beside Naomasa said, leading them into the clinic proper.

Naomasa held back a moment, sidling up beside Toshinori.

“It’s alright? ” he scoffed under his breath.

Right. Toshinori smothered a grin, ears flicking, Under the radar.

The woman held open her office door, bowing politely to Toshinori as he entered, “I’m Dr. Ueda, head physician here at the C.E. Clinic.” She gestured to a pair of chairs and rounded her desk, “Make yourselves comfortable. You said this was about a doctor that worked here previously, Detective?”

“I did,” Naomasa sat and passed Ueda a photograph, “Dr. Tsubasa. He would have been here around six years ago.”

“Yes,” Ueda paused, thoughtful. She removed her black-framed glasses and tapped them against the photo, “I worked with him during his last couple years as head physician. You think he’s involved in the string of kidnappings.” She glanced up and passed the photo back, “I keep up with the news.”

Naomasa nodded, tucking the photograph back into his coat pocket, “That’s correct. We hope you can share with us what you remember about him. His work and behavior. Where he lived and went after leaving here. Anything you might know.”

Ueda sat back in her chair and shook her head, “It’s been a while, but … Frankly, it came as a shock to see he’s a suspect for something like abduction. Dr. Tsubasa never seemed off in any way. Dedicated to his work and to the clinic. Maybe a little reserved at times, but nothing that stood out. I wasn’t very close with him personally. I worked with him just over two years before he moved, and he tended to keep to himself.”

“Do you remember why Dr. Tsubasa left?”

Ueda nodded, “My understanding was there had been a family emergency and he was taking time away for a while. It was the first I’d heard him mention family - Besides his grandson, I mean.”

Toshinori’s lips pressed in a thin line.

If the Doctor went immediately to All for One after their first clash, a family emergency made a quick and effective cover.

But his grandson… A childhood friend of Young Bakugou and Izuku.

“Honestly, you’re worse than half the children I see.”

“How did Dr. Tsubasa act around his grandson and other children?” Toshinori asked.

“Perfectly doting,” Ueda sighed with a shrug, “His grandson - I think his name was Hiroshi? - He spent a lot of time here during the summer when he wasn’t with the neighborhood kids. Dr. Tsubasa let him play in his office from time to time. And he would brag about how big Hiroshi’s wings were growing and how strong he was going to be. Dr. Tsubasa was rarely animated, except when it came to his grandson and quirks. But given his specialization, that’s hardly out of the ordinary.”

A knot of rage burned hot inside Toshinori’s chest, and his tail tuft flicked, agitated. So this is the mask he chose to wear.

Ueda continued, “Dr. Tsubasa specialized in quirk development, so his patients ranged from infants to children of around five or six years. He could be blunt at times with unruly ones, but he was generally very good with them.” She paused, brows pinched, and asked, “You don’t think he would hurt anyone, do you? It’s hard to imagine Dr. Tsubasa is your man, but… Well, I guess you don’t suspect this sort of thing of a coworker.”

“For now, we’re just trying to find any information on Dr. Tsubasa’s past that might be helpful,” Naomasa said, detective mask firmly in place, “Is there anything else you remember about Tsubasa?”

“Yes, let me…” Ueda dug into her desk drawer. She pulled out a pamphlet and passed it to Naomasa, “Some of our medical staff volunteer at a free clinic in Hosu. Dr. Tsubasa offered his time there often. Maybe someone there might know more about him.”

“Yavin Central Clinic,” Naomasa read. He pocketed the pamphlet and stood, bowing to Dr. Ueda, “Thank you for your time and cooperation. If there’s anything else that you remember -”

“I’ll call,” Ueda said. She stood and opened the door to her office, “Let me show you out.”

The bell jangled as Toshinori pulled the clinic door shut behind him.

Already walking down the sidewalk, Naomasa hunched his shoulders against the chill and tapped on his phone.

“Yavin Central Clinic is in South Hosu and on our priority list,” Naomasa said briskly, “I’m requesting Bellamy meet us there.”

“Gut feeling?” Toshinori asked.

He felt it too. The Good Doctor didn’t have to work as a pediatrician. There were significant risks maintaining a civilian life while working so closely with All for One, from either police, other villains, or All for One himself. In order to maintain that civilian life, Tsubasa ingratiated himself with the people in the communities where he settled. He gained their trust and hid himself in plain sight.

Working in a free clinic on the rough side of Hosu? Generous on its face and admirable to anyone with good intentions, but… This was a man who stripped off flesh and bone to pick the brains of his mutated victims. A man who likely turned his own grandson into a noumu and handed him over to be used by the League.

What did the Doctor stand to gain from volunteer work that he didn’t already have working at the C.E. Clinic?

“Take a look,” Naomasa passed Toshinori the pamphlet.

Toshinori skimmed the front, flipped it over, and read through the clinical services.

“Shit,” he cursed, hackles stiffening.

Drug rehabilitation and overnight cots for the homeless.

“It fits the building parameters we’ve set and his M.O.,” Naomasa said grimly, “If he was going to look for subjects without the hassle of missing persons reports, I have a feeling he’d start here.”

“It fits,” Toshinori agreed. Taking advantage of those most in need, the Doctor and All for One really were cut from the same cloth.

Click-click .

Toshinori’s ear twitched and he hid the pamphlet in a utility pouch, “Don’t look now, we’re being followed.”

“Damn it. Now?” Naomasa grumbled and pulled the brim of his hat lower, “Tabloids again?”

“Most likely. Aizawa mentioned they were chasing rumors about me. You have to give them credit, they’re persistent,” Toshinori pressed the side of his visor, blinking as it extended to cover the top half of his face, “Take a left at the alley.”

“This was a lot easier when you could jump across the city,” Naomasa huffed, ducking into the narrow space.

Toshinori chuckled and jogged after Naomasa, ears twitching at the quiet curse from their stalker, “Maybe so - Take this right. Although, this might be a blessing in disguise. A good opportunity to test things out.”

Naomasa turned and slowed to a stop in front of a tall divider fence. Dead end.

“And how do you figure that?” he asked, gesturing to the fire escape. Too high and ladder withdrawn.

Toshinori adjusted his gloves and wrapped his tail firmly around Naomasa’s chest, “I can still jump.”

He crouched, legs warm and claws gripping the ground.

“W- No wait! Toshin- hrk! ”

Toshinori leapt upward, clearing the fence with Naomasa in tow. He reached for the fire escape… and fell short. His claws hit and slipped off the edge of the railing.

“Oh shit!” Toshinori reached out and caught the alley wall, his claws scraping down the brick -

- and came to a sudden stop. The gloves held firm against the rough wall.

“Huh! What do you know?” He settled his feet against the brick, turned his palm, and ran his thumb against the textured pads, “So, that’s what they do.”

“You didn’t know!?” Naomasa yelped from below, feet dangling a meter from the ground.

“Blessing in disguise!” Toshinori repeated with a laugh. He lowered Naomasa to the ground, tail wagging as Naomasa stepped back, “Head to your car. I’ll meet you there!”

“Toshi-”

“On your three!” Toshinori called as he scrambled up the wall and grinned when Naomasa clicked his tongue, likely spotting the tabloid photographer turning the corner.

Claws and gloves gripping the brick, Toshinori climbed another story and pulled himself over the lip of the roof. Crisp wind rushed past him as he stood. It brushed through his hair and ridged mane, chilling the bare skin of his face and tail.  

The sun hung high in the clear, blue sky. Its light and heat seeped into Toshinori’s suit.

Cars rumbled, bike bells rang, people walked and talked, but it was all distant. Muffled in the peaceful, familiar rush of wind past his ears.

Breathing in the crisp air, Toshinori closed his eyes, and for a moment he was weightless. Not standing on a three-story shop, but mid-jump between the tops of skyscrapers - the world quiet aside from the rush of wind and One for All through his veins, warming him from the inside out.

He was warm now.

“Alright,” Toshinori stretched and peered around the rooftops, “Now where did we park? Oh!” Dim, colored lights flickered to life across his visor.

[Synchronizing Watch GPS… Complete!] Power Loader’s digitized voice chimed by his ear, [Visor Display Active.] A small map appeared in the corner of his vision and a bright spot of light pinged in the center.

“Well now!” Toshinori barked a laugh as more lights appeared, highlighting the flat, stable plains of the roof in a faint golden grid, “What else did they pack into this suit?”

He shook his head with a wide grin and turned toward the parking garage in the middle distance.

Not too far. Toshinori bounced on his toes and jogged across the roof. His long strides quickened, feet thumping across the flat surface. Without a second thought, he planted a foot on the edge and leapt across to the next building.

He landed and fell forward, catching himself on his hands and racing ahead. Dodging air ducts and access hatches was a breeze compared to Cementoss’s moving obstacle course. His footfalls clanged loud as he launched himself from a metal duct and landed on the railing of a fire escape. Scaling up its side, he threw himself onto the slanted, tiled roof and across the next alley.

Toshinori’s heart thundered in his burning chest - burning from quirks or strain or cold, he didn’t give a damn. A wild grin split his face as he flung himself feet first through a narrow gap between ducts and twisted onto his side, sliding down the steep slope of a shop’s skylight. He slipped off and caught the nearest streetlight. His tail wrapped around the pole and stabilized him as he climbed to its top.

Perched high above the street, Toshinori laughed and gasped for air.

“Not quite in top shape yet,” he coughed and rubbed his aching chest. His limbs throbbed with his racing pulse, and his joints ached sharply. He already regretted pushing himself, but in the nicest way.

“Hey!” Naomasa called from the street below.

Toshinori grinned down, tail wagging ecstatically, “You caught up quick!”

“Yeah well, I took the easy way,” Naomasa replied with a long-suffering smile.

Barking a laugh, Toshinori leaned back and went hocks over head. Tail catching his perch, Toshinori swung upside-down, twisted, and let go.

“ Shi- ! Toshinori!” Naomasa sucked in a strained breath as Toshinori landed on his feet beside him, “Be careful.”

Toshinori scoffed. He straightened himself, brushing off his gloves, “It’s alright, Naomasa. I know my limits.”

“Mhm?” Naomasa hummed skeptically and tugged the brim of his hat lower, “Are you planning on climbing to the car too or…?”

Toshinori grinned, tail swaying.

The car was only on the fifth level.

Well within his limits.

“Okay,” Kouichi sighed, exhausted. He slumped back and brushed the sand from his hand, pushing the excess into the small pile under his discarded coat, “It’s all hidden. Thanks for the warning Shin’ya.”

Shin’ya Misawa grunted quietly, massaging his temples, “Yeah…”

“Thank you for looking out for Kouichi,” Mamoru Tani said, knocking her thick knuckles against the wall. “But you should get some real sleep, hun.”

Shin’ya flinched at the soft knock and grunted again, grumbling something about “insomnia.”

His quirk’s backlash? That sucks, Kouichi hugged his knees, eyeing the small scars on his own hands. Leftover remnants of cracks in his dried skin. He turned them over, frowning at the pull of his skin - already drying out without his hand cream.

Huffing, he scrubbed his palms together. As his skin warmed, small grains of sand fell from between his hands. Just a little, but better than nothing. More to use and strengthen the thin line of contact between him and the others down the hall.

“Hey kiddo,” the short, gruff man - Kou Shiga - called. He kicked the large pot of soil stuck in his cell with him, “Y’think you can use any of this?”

Kouichi eyed the moss-covered pot. The soil inside looked dark and moist. Maybe garden soil. He shook his head, “I don’t think so. My quirk ‘Geonosis’ is strictly sand control. I might be able to separate the sand out of the soil if it has enough, but I’d have to touch it.”

“Worth a shot,” Shiga huffed, tugging off another vine of ivy and tossing it into the growing pile at the front of his personal greenhouse.

“Could you please keep your plants inside your own cell? ” Shin’ya snipped, voice strained, pulling his leg away from the moss creeping through the floor vents.

Kou snorted bitterly and yanked off another vine from his shoulder with a wince. Green liquid oozed from the broken skin the vine left behind, and Kou gingerly pressed at the wound, “Would if I could.”

“We’re all in the same boat,” Tayori Yamadori admonished softly from the far cell. Kouichi caught the gentle but stern look she sent Shin’ya, “Don’t rock it unnecessarily because you are tired.”

Shin’ya expression pinched, trembling fists gripping his hair -

Then, he sighed and curled tighter on himself. He rubbed at the dark bags under his eyes, murmuring, “Sorry, I just - Sorry…”

Mamoru pat his cell wall gently before turning back to Kouichi. Her kind, dark eyes roamed over him, “How’re you holding up? Feeling… anything?”

Kouichi shrugged and bit his tongue.

Shiga had filled him in on why the Doctor abducted them all - at least, as much as he’d gathered. He hadn’t always been green. He hadn’t always been a walking jungle. The Doctor had done something to change him.

Kouichi rubbed his arms, trembling fingertips lingering over the faint, throbbing ache in his shoulder.

What did he do to me?

“Kouichi?”

Kouichi looked back up at Mamoru with a wide grin, “I’m fine! Just a little tired.” He flexed and jut out his chest, “If my quirk can help us get out of here, I’m going to use it even if it wears me out a bit. Besides, things like this can’t scare a hero-in-training! We can handle this if we keep working together.”

“That’s the fighting spirit!” Mamoru laughed, “You show that villain doc who’s boss, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” Kouichi promised and let the jitters roll out of him. They were going to be okay. He was going to be okay, and if he could handle this, hero entrance exams would be nothing. Besides, in a world without All Might everyone needed to be a little braver. A little more heroic.

Kouichi slipped his hand under his coat. Beneath the bunched fabric was a fine layer of sand, rough compared to the smooth floor tiles. He brushed his fingertips through it and took a slow deep breath.

I’m strong. I’m capable. I’ve got this, he repeated. Just like Mom and Dad always said. I’ve got this.

An odd sensation shot up his spine, and Kouichi shuddered, “A-ah?” His back tensed and a slow knot cramped under his shoulder blades.

Wh- ?

Kouichi gasped raggedly as burning pain ripped around his chest. His ribs cramped, and his breath caught.

“Kid!” Shiga barked, ferns fanning from his neck.

“I’m ok-kay. I’m okay,” Kouichi stuttered, gasping a shallow breath. Arms shaking, he gingerly rubbed his chest, pressing at the burning muscle, “It’s just -”

He froze.

Wh-what?

Scalding static raced under his skin. Muscle twitched. Unfamiliar. Wrong.

“Kouichi, where does it hurt?” Mamoru asked with gentle urgency.

“Um -” Kouichi panicked and crossed his arms over his chest. Everyone was looking at him. They were scared.

Another shudder shook him to the bone, and his skin itched and strained. Two lumps raised under his arms.

“I uh,” Kouichi managed a wobbly grin, fatigue washing over him, and blinked back tears, “I don’t think I got plants.”

Mamoru glanced back at Shiga, then pat the floor vent, “We’re right here, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay. We’re all with you.”

All except Shin’ya, curled up in the back of his cell. His golden eyes shimmered, half-closed as he checked out.

Kouichi envied him. Just a little.

“Ghh-!” Sweat beaded on his forehead, and another wave of fatigue rolled down his spine. His heart thudded hard and fast in his chest.

What did he do? Kouichi shivered, What’s happening to me?

The deadbolt unlocked with a metallic click.

“Hey!” Shiga hollered, slamming the bottom of his boot against the glass door of his cell, “What the Hell did yah do t’ the kid!?”  

The Doctor shut the door behind his noumu and only raised a brow at Shiga, mustache twitching up in a smirk, “Energetic today, aren’t you Kousuke? Very encouraging.”

“ Screw you,” Shiga ground out, poison ivy unfurling from his arms and climbing up the glass walls.

“Now that’s an interesting development.” The Doctor crossed the room and unhooked the clipboard hanging from Shiga’s cell, murmuring as he wrote, “Showing higher variety of species germinating. Rapid growth rates.”

“Look at me, bastard!” Shiga fumed, face flushing a deeper shade of green as he stood and kicked the door again. The ivy-wrapped chains attached to his wrists rattled, and Shiga snarled, “What did yah do t’ the kid? ”

Kouichi set his jaw when the Doctor finally looked his way.

Can’t scare me. Can’t scare me, Kouichi repeated despite the terrified flutter of his heart.

With a thoughtful hum, the Doctor walked to the front of Kouichi’s cell and unlocked it, “Noumu, restrain him.”

The hulking noumu lumbered across the room and lunged through the open cell door.

“No!” Kouichi yelped and scrambled back. Twisting, he - Electric pain seared around his chest. His back locked, and he fell with a broken shout.

“Leave him alone!” Mamoru bellowed, “He’s just a kid!”

Arms trembling, Kouichi reached for his coat, shoving his fingers under the material and touched the small pile of sand.

A massive hand wrapped around Kouichi’s leg and yanked. Tile scraped his skin.

He yelped, coat slipping out of reach.

Grains of sand fell from his fingertips, disconnected from his quirk.

No no no! Think! Where -?

Kouichi rolled and spotted the thin line of sand connecting him to the others.

The noumu pinned Kouichi’s free arm and screeched. Foul breath washed over Kouichi’s face, hot and humid. Glistening red muscle, milky sinew, and teeth peek out from under the cloth mask.

Something hot and slick dripped onto Kouichi’s cheek.

Kouichi bared his teeth, giving the noumu a sharp kick. Struggling against the noumu’s iron grip, he reached for the line.

It was so close!

Just at his fingertips.

“Let him go!” Mamoru smashed her fist against the wall.

There’s enough there. I can hit - Kouichi gasped as his quirk latched onto the line of sand. Sensation zipped down the line, all the way back to the pile hidden in the others’ room. He raised his hand to call it all back. To fight. To -

The Doctor walked into the cell and looked over the noumu’s shoulder.

I can… A frightened whine choked Kouichi. I can’t…

He grit his teeth and dropped his shaking fist, going limp in the noumu’s grasp.

They need my quirk. We need my sand to talk. We need it to get out. They’re depending on me, Kouichi panted and shot the Doctor a defiant glare. Jaw set. He can’t know. I won’t let him know. I’ve got this. I’ve got this. I’ve got this.

Kouichi still jerked away when the Doctor crouched beside him.

“Raise his arms,” the Doctor ordered.

Kouichi winced as the noumu pulled his arms up. Everything ached.  

The cold air chilled Kouichi’s sweat-soaked skin as the Doctor hitched up the side of his shirt. He prodded at his ribs with gloved hands.

“Secondary pectoral muscles are coming in smoothly,” he thought aloud, hovering over Kouichi. The Doctor adjusted his glasses. His sharp, clinical gaze moved to the aching spot under Kouichi’s left arm.

Kouichi flinched, hissing through his teeth as the Doctor ran a thumb over the sensitive lump.

“Arm bud forming…” The Doctor checked Kouichi’s other side, frowned, and glanced at the noumu, “Keep a hold on him.”

“He’s just a kid,” Mamoru called after the Doctor as he rose and crossed the room.

Kouichi heard a rustling and could just see the Doctor digging into a small cooler by the door.

Mamoru let out a frustrated huff, “Look. Undo what you did to him and do it to me instead. Just let him go home.”

“Wh- No, Mamoru. You don’t -” Kouichi’s voice cracked, and he gaped at her when she shook her head.

“Sweetheart, I’d do just about anything to protect you,” Mamoru whispered urgently, “You’re brave and strong, but you are a child. You shouldn’t be here. ”

The Doctor pulled out a clear bag of fluids and tubing. Kouichi tensed - spotting the needle glinting in the fluorescent light. He returned to Kouichi’s cell, pausing briefly and considering Mamoru, “That’s right… You have children, don’t you? Two boys and a girl, correct?”

“Don’t you fucking talk about them,” Mamoru ground out, “Don’t you dare. ”

“I’m hoping that protective streak of yours makes you more resilient when it’s your turn,” the Doctor replied casually. He knelt beside Kouichi and held up a tiny butterfly needle, “I’m giving you IV fluids and concentrated supplements for your arms -”

My arms? Wh- ? Kouichi glanced down and stiffened.

A cold nausea roiled in his gut, freezing and shaking him to his core.

Where his shirt was pulled up, he could see the wrong muscle tense under his skin and the way the alien lump squirmed -

Lightheaded…  

He   was    lightheaded.

Kouichi’s gaze slipped up to the ceiling, watching the lights and tiles swim. A tear slipped down his cheek, dripping into the shell of his ear. His breath fluttered. Too light.

He barely felt the needle slip into the back of his hand.

“It’s best if you don’t touch the IV,” the Doctor stood and hung the clear bag on a small hook by the door, “If you pull it out, your body is going to pull nutrients from itself until you waste away. Your new arms will grow deformed, and it will hurt.”

Oh, Kouichi thought, staring up at the ceiling and away from those things under his arms.

“Why are you doing this?” Mamoru asked, strained disgust in her voice, “Just undo -”

The Doctor scoffed and nudged his noumu. The creature let Kouichi go and followed the Doctor from the cell.

Kouichi carefully tugged down his shirt, hand trembling as he brushed his fingers over his chest.

“The changes are permanent,” the Doctor said and chuckled as Mamoru fell silent.

Latex snapped quietly against the Doctor’s skin as he tugged off his gloves and tossed them into the bin. Tapping his pen against Sunaba’s file, he relished the stunned silence of his subjects. It gave him time to think.

Heteromorph Quirk “Four Arms” is assimilating well, he wrote in the file, Growth successfully boosted by stimulants. Secondary pectoralis major and minor fusing with existing bone structure. Arm buds forming -

“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart,” Tani murmured behind the Doctor.    

The Doctor smiled to himself.

Yes, with the proper nutrients and supervision the boy would be fine. He was young and healthy. His own quirk was still in its adolescent stage. Plenty of potential for growth and mutation with the right combinations. Even without the benefits given the other group, the boy had a certain resiliency. Sunaba had the same fire he saw in All Might for the short time he had the opportunity to work on him.

Slipping on a fresh pair of gloves, the Doctor opened the countertop refrigerator and after a moment of poking through vials, he pulled out a couple particularly interesting quirks. He set them carefully down on a small rolling tray with a sterile syringe for each.

“Yamadori,” the Doctor turned, “I think you’ve waited long enough.”

Tani shot up and slammed her palms against the door of her cell, “No! You leave that woman alone!”

Need to shorten her chains, the Doctor noted as he unlocked Yamadori’s cell.

Tayori Yamadori sat in seiza and glared sharply at the Doctor as he swung open the door.

“Don’t. ”

The Doctor glanced to the next cell and smiled as Shiga glared back, So self-sacrificing. I picked a good batch.

He prepared the syringe, N-057 at his side, and shrugged, “My apologies Kousuke, this one is not for you.”

“I said don’t! Leave ‘er alone, y’fuckin’ bastard,” Shiga growled, broad green leaves sprouted slowly from his back and shoulders.

The Doctor ignored him, reaching out and taking Yamadori’s arm.

Yamadori stiffened and tugged her arm back, surprisingly strong for a woman of her age.

The Doctor tightened his grip, “Would you prefer my noumu pin you too?”

Yamadori raised her chin proudly, hands fisting, “Be careful, Doctor.”

Slipping the needle into the woman’s skin, the Doctor chuckled, “Always am.”

Slap!

The stinging blow knocked his glasses from his face. The half emptied syringe clattered to the floor.

Yamadori breathed a shaky sigh, hand still poised in the air, palm reddened.

N-057 roared behind the Doctor, but stayed in place - stopped by the Doctor’s raised hand.

The Doctor glared, eyes flashing, and Yamadori froze. Her shaking, breathing, and heartbeat all stopped. Still as a corpse.

Clicking his tongue, the Doctor plucked his glasses and the syringe from the floor.

Reevaluate. He ran his thumb across the cracked lens of his glasses, Never underestimate. Damn it.  

“Wh..What did you do?” Shiga scrambled across his cell, “She’s turnin’ blue. Stop! St-o-!”

Leaves burst from Shiga’s green skin. Vines slammed into the glass walls and writhed. Purple belladonna flowers hung like so many bells in his cell.

His eyes…

The Doctor grit his teeth, irritation throbbing at his temples.

He imprinted on her.

Standing, the Doctor roughly brushed off his coat and perched his glasses on his nose.

“Let it be known,” he snarled lowly, cheek stinging, “I can kill any one of you with a look. Try that again, and I will find a new test subject.”

Damn it. I can’t. Not now. I can’t afford to.

Releasing Yamadori, he tossed the used syringe into the biohazard bin.

The quirk would take. Less than a drop was needed for All for One’s will to take hold. That was hardly a problem.

Shiga imprinting early… Imprinting on another subject. That was a problem. That was not planned. Yes, it confirmed that imprinted noumu could keep their minds, but after only one additional quirk? That was hardly new information. All for One’s followers gifted with a booster-type quirk were unquestioningly loyal to him.

Perhaps not to the same level as a true imprint, but similar enough to bring in a factor of doubt.

No. It wasn’t enough.

Adapt. The Doctor closed and locked Yamadori’s cell, glancing at her briefly to check her heart rate as she coughed and gasped for air.

A small, soft vine crept from the cell vent and curled around her little finger.

Shiga shivered in his cell, pupils still pinpricks and fixed on Yamadori.

The Doctor frowned, I can still work with this. As long as she doesn’t die…  

Plucking the second syringe from his tray, he crossed to Misawa’s cell.

“Shin’ya, wake up,” Mamoru pounded on the wall between them as the Doctor unlocked his cell, “You need to come back now. Shin’ya! Leave him be!”

Misawa was a sturdy, young adult. Good health record.

The Doctor’s lips twitched, Aside from his chronic insomnia.

Still. He was a prime candidate for a non-standard heteromorph quirk.

The Doctor lifted Misawa’s limp arm and pushed the needle in.  

The sky had taken on a hazy orange tint by the time they arrived in South Hosu, the sun sitting low despite the early hour. Long shadows passed over the car as they drove up to the narrow curb and rolled to a stop.

“Bellamy should be arriving soon,” Naomasa said, killing the engine.

Toshinori nodded and slipped out of the car. His ears perked to attention and on guard.

He’d worked in South Hosu before. There were a number of small, startup gangs sprinkled through the area - mostly young adults with too much time and semi-destructive quirks. Crime in the area was opportunistic. Random muggings, robberies, and assault. It dipped in areas where heroes actively patrolled.

He eyed a small group loitering by the corner. The tallest of them, a young man with rocky fists, spat on the sidewalk. He shot Toshinori a hard glare before leading his group down a shadowed alley.

Toshinori chuckled. Not much of a threat if the sight of an unknown hero sends them off.

“Here they are,” Naomasa said, joining Toshinori on the narrow sidewalk.

A police cruiser pulled around the intersection and parked behind Naomasa’s car. Jean-Baptiste Bellamy clambered out of the back seat, thanking the patrol officers for the ride before shutting the door behind him.

“So, this is the clinic?” Bellamy asked quietly, regarding the small, plain front across the street.

The brick building was old and worn. A sign hung above the door, paint cracked and flaking in places. There was a short line waiting outside the door, each person bundled up against the chill.

“Hm,” Bellamy slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, a flash of beads peeking between his fingers.

“Feel anything?” Naomasa asked.

Bellamy chuckled dryly, “The better question is what don’t I feel.” He shook his head, “Illness, hunger, anxiety, desperation, frustration… relief and calm too. Determination and fatigue.”

“But,” Toshinori supplied.

“Not that haze I felt from you,” Bellamy finished with a nod, “Still, it’s worth a look. I may not be close enough yet.”

“All the more reason to look into it,” Naomasa said, adjusting the brim of his hat and crossing the street with a wave to the patrol officers.

Toshinori smiled lopsidedly after him and followed him into the building.

Inside, the waiting room was packed full. A few small families sat alongside a number of people with non-standard heteromorph quirks and a pale young man nervously bouncing his leg. A tense, curious hush washed over the patients-in-waiting as they spotted Toshinori’s suit and Naomasa’s badge.

The nervous man suddenly jerked upward and shuffled toward the door.

“No! Yuuga,” a plump, middle aged woman rushed across the lobby and took the man’s hands in hers. She gave them a few urgent pats, ushering him back into his seat, “You stay right here and I’ll get to you soon.” Then in a softer voice, “I’m so proud you came back. That’s a great sign, dear. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of things here.”

She turned and gave them each a quick, measuring look. Clasping her hands together, she heaved a harried sigh, “So. How can I help you gentlemen?”

“We had a few questions about a doctor that volunteered here six or so years ago,” Naomasa said, passing her the photograph of Tsubasa.

“Oh!” The woman’s shoulders sagged in relief, “Yes, I think I could help you there. I’ve been here - oh some twenty-odd years. Megumi Kansaki is my name. Now, which doctor -” She looked down at the photograph and froze.

“Ma’am?” Toshinori glanced at Bellamy who uncomfortably cleared his throat.

Kansaki shook her head, lips pursed, “I’m sorry, but I think you are looking for the wrong man.”

“How do you know that?” Naomasa asked, expression and voice neutral.

“Well, I know because I know,” Kansaki insisted, waving the photograph at them, “This clinic wouldn’t be here without Dr. Tsubasa, and I -” she heaved another sigh and set her hands on her hips. She shook her head again, “Walk and talk. I have too many people to see today to stand here and chew the fat.”

With that she spun and marched out of the waiting room, Naomasa hot on her heels and Toshinori and Bellamy behind him.

Out of the waiting room and down a long, crowded hall, Kansaki turned and pushed open a set of double doors.

Toshinori’s brows rose. The clinic was little more than a triage center inside a repurposed chapel. A high arched ceiling soared above, white paint cracked and peeling. In place of pews were lines of occupied cots with only three volunteers walking between them. One of the volunteers ducked into a curtained-off area toward the back of the chapel.   

Naomasa caught up to Kansaki as she stopped beside a sleeping patient’s cot, “I assume you worked with Dr. Tsubasa here then?”

Kansaki gently but efficiently checked the elderly man’s temperature and brushed a damp cloth across his dirt smeared brow, “Of course I did. Too few doctors come here - You work with everyone who volunteers, but Dr. Tsubasa was a godsend for this little clinic. He was skilled and his quirk was a literal lifesaver.”

Naomasa flipped through his small notebook, pen poised above the paper, “His quirk?”

Kansaki moved to the next cot, nudging a small water cup into the young woman’s hands, “Drink dear. You’re still dehydrated. Yes, his quirk.” She turned and tapped just under her eyes, “He could look at you and know what was wrong. No x-ray machines, no MRI, no - Do you know how expensive it is to run those machines for a single patient? And if it turned up nothing? We may be a free clinic, but we can’t pull finances to cover expensive exams out of thin air. He could look at a person and just know if it was a sprain or a break. If it was just a cough or something more serious. He was an invaluable asset to us.”

Toshinori’s hackles raised.

A data-collection quirk for a person in the medical field was an incredible gift. Toshinori knew quite a few from the months he’d spent recovering from his operations. But a quirk like that in the hands of the Good Doctor … No wonder he was capable of creating and operating on noumu in warehouses.

Kansaki snapped her fingers and pointed at a young man behind her, “Put that back. Those are not for you!”

The teen flinched and quickly placed the small pill cup back on another volunteer’s supply cart.

Sighing, Kansaki stood and moved to the next cot. She pulled out a wooden tongue depressor and gently asked the child to open her mouth. Then, she felt under the girl’s jaw and ears. She hummed and wrote a small note, giving it to the girl’s father, “Take this to the front and they’ll give you what she needs. Make sure she rests and drinks water.”

“Do you remember anything about Dr. Tsubasa that might have been odd?” Naomasa asked when the pair left.

Kansaki shot him an exasperated look, “Quite frankly, no. He was just the man we needed back then. We could use more like him here now if you ask me. Not everyone is cut out for this kind of work.” She moved to the next cot, “Not to mention his generous friends.”

Naomasa looked up from his notes, “Who?”

“He was a successful doctor with equally successful friends.” Kansaki busied herself with changing another patient’s IV, “What we do is a charity. Not for profit. Funds were difficult to come by back then - especially for a free clinic this side of Hosu. He was kind enough to bring our work to his friends’ attention. Like I said, without Dr. Tsubasa, this clinic would not be here.”

A tight grip clamped around Toshinori’s forearm.

Sweat beading across his brow, Bellamy cleared his throat as the warm color drained from his face, “This building has a basement, yes? It used to be a funeral home -”

“Please, don’t… mention that,” Kansaki murmured urgently, glancing around, “We couldn’t afford another facility. I’d rather you don’t spook my patients. Too many people already say we’re haunted. Of all the ridiculous garbage.” She shook her head.

“What is the basement used for?” Naomasa asked, neutral as ever.

Bellamy’s hand trembled, his other dug into his suit pocket. Beads ground faintly together in his fist.

Kansaki pursed her lips, “We have a detox program. Our patients need safe places to sleep while they recover from their addictions. It’s quiet and cooler down there.” She shrugged and passed the next patient a small bowl of rice.

“Could we take a look down there?”

“Not without a warrant,” Kansaki said firmly, “I’m sorry, but that’s policy. To protect our longer term patients, we require the proper procedures to be followed.”

Naomasa nodded, “Of course.”

“Do you use the whole basement?” Bellamy asked.

Kansaki turned to Bellamy, expression softening, “Are you feeling alright?”

Bellamy waved off her concern, “I’m alright. Really. The basement, ma’am. Do you utilize the whole space?”

Sighing, Kansaki wrung out a small towel and tossed it into a small laundry hamper under a medical cart, “No. A section is privately rented by one of our donors. And no, I don’t know who. That’s between them and the clinic’s founder.”

Bellamy nodded, then squeezed Toshinori’s sleeve.

“Let’s get you some air,” Toshinori whispered and hooked his arm around Bellamy, “We’ll just be by the car, Tsukauchi.”

Naomasa frowned, but waved as they went before turning back to Kansaki.

Toshinori shouldered open the double door, Bellamy in toe.

Halfway down the crowded hall, the elevator dinged and opened.

“ Jesus - ” Bellamy wheezed and stumbled, rubbing his forehead as Toshinori rushed him back outside.

“Are they there?” Toshinori whispered urgently as they crossed the narrow street.

“Must have some kind of suppressor laced in the walls,” Bellamy murmured, looking back at the building, “In the elevator doors too but not completely sealed.”

Naomasa exited the clinic and jogged across to them, “You felt something.”

Bellamy grimaced, “Yes. Whoever is using that excess space, they’re hiding - I don’t know - there were many. It’s similar to the hazy fog I felt coming from you, Yagi. Too similar. Lord have mercy. There’s too much suffering in there…” he added under his breath.

“I’ll call it in,” Naomasa gave Bellamy a grateful pat on his back, “Head back to the precinct and rest up. You’ve done your part. We’ll do ours.”

Toshinori pulled his phone from his belt, “I’ll contact Aizawa. We may need Eraserhead if there are noumu or more gang members guarding the abductees.”

“Good idea,” Naomasa said, “We need to move fast.”

Two hours. Two hours since the Doctor’s last visit.

Mirai let the hand holding Nozomi’s watch fall to her chest and settled back against her rolled up blanket. Gaze drifting to the ceiling, she traced the lines in the gray tiles.

The Doctor sent them to the restroom with the noumu again. He never went with them.

It was Souma’s idea to test the noumu’s behavior away from the Doctor. It went with them into the restroom, but let go of them only long enough to open the door. Just long enough…

Mirai counted the tiles from the light. Two tiles - two pairs of doors to the left, then a right turn. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight steps down the hall. The bathroom was the first door on the right, but the hall stretched further down, ending in a perpendicular hall. There was a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall just around the corner. There were no windows on either side.

Mirai ran through the images again. Two pair. Turn. Eight steps. Bathroom. Run. Three pair. T-turn. Fire extinguisher around the corner. No windows -

The noumu’s gurgling growl and thundering footsteps closed in. It grabbed her arm, yanked her to a stop, dragging her back to the bathroom.

Mirai shivered.

One test run was enough to know the noumu was fast but at least not inhumanly so. It also proved that it couldn’t tell the Doctor she ran and made it down the hall.

Mirai breathed in and out slowly. Brushing her fingers through her hair and over the horns, she ran through the images again. She had to memorize them. Had to. She was the only one who made it to the end of the hall.

A soft whimper drifted from down the room.

“How are you holding up, Chris?” Nozomi asked, leaning against her cell wall. Pale peach tones rippled over her skin, finally settling on her own skin tone.

In the last cell, Chris was curled over himself, clutching his abdomen. He shook his head, a small groan escaping him, “It h-hurts…”

Water sloshed and Souma gingerly slipped out of his tub. Steam drifted off his bronze scales as they dried, and he squeezed water from his shirt and new swim-shorts he’d begrudgingly traded for his waterlogged pants on the condition he’d get them back.

Souma sat gingerly on the floor next to his folded binder, careful not to put pressure on the thick, short tail still growing from his lower back.

“Where does it hurt worst?” he asked, and Mirai repeated the question.

Chris hissed between his teeth, “M-my stomach. My mouth… Just everything -” he jerked and curled tighter, hand flying to cover his mouth as he gagged. Shuddering with hiccuping dry heaves, he scratched at his arms, “And - And my skin hurts. I-itches.”

A loud, groaning gurgle came from Chris’s stomach, and he curled tighter.

“You need to eat something,” Nozomi said quietly, glancing at Taeka sleeping in the next cell. “If you’re changing too…”

Chris muffled a frightened sob and shook his head again, pushing the partially eaten tray of food away, “Nothing tastes right. It doesn’t - It makes it hurt worse.”

“Shh, okay. It’s going to be okay,” Nozomi called softly. She glanced back at Mirai, worry etched across her brow before turning back to Chris, “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to get out.”

“We have a plan. Okay, Chris?” Mirai called, smiling when Chris looked her way, “We’re going to make it.”

Shfff!

Sand whirled out from under the far counter. The line zipped across the room, brushing in a frenzy against the doors of the cell.

Mirai climbed off her cot and knelt on the floor as the sand found the gap in the door of her cell. Souma leaned in as close as he was able as Nozomi asked, “What are they saying?”

Mirai held up a hand, watching as the sand piled and shifted.

“Oh my god…” Mirai read the words again and a laugh bubbled out of her, “Oh my god!”

The sand settled.

Police! Police are coming!

Toshinoumu's New Suit Designed by Juustozzi! We seriously can't express how excited we are to finally be able to share this design Juustozzi drew up for us. It's seriously so badass!

So guess what y'all! We not only have the Toshinoumu tumblr page, we now have a series discord server! Come join us, chat with us and other readers, share and enjoy each other's art, and get day to day updates about chapter progress.

Join the Discord: HERE

[h4rmonyland]

Normani supporting Breast Cancer awareness with Mama Drea, a survivor!

[everything-but-my-bones]

Had a fucking amazing weekend with this beauty. Watched the sun come up each day. My liver may be a little worse for wear but it was definitely well worth it.

[swiftwidget]

(same anon from earlier) It's almost 3am here, but there's no chance i could get to sleep now. I hope you have a good night's sleep, though! Just wanted to let you know I finished reading the chapter and it's just freaking amazing and made me cry so. ANYWAY Sweet dreams!

awww Thank you!!

[curly-oat]

proud to say i resisted the urge to buy a red bull today

[frzerburn]

Hope everyone is doing well! Lets kill this year!