Fractured Wings

Weeks turned into months, and Autumn was half way over, not too long until Halloween now. I've been busy. My paper listening devices had found their way into the pockets of countless low-ranking members of the Meta Liberation Army, some even on key figures like Curious. But for all the effort, the results have been maddeningly scarce. 

Every time I think I've got something, a lead, a stray whisper, the paper expires, crumbling into nothing before I can confirm. Worse, the people I have been listening to know little and never expended on anything. It's like they're all playing some big game of Chinese whispers, and I'm stuck on the outside trying to piece together rules no one will explain. 

Destro himself has been a ghost lately, cooped up in solitude. He's issued orders through intermediaries, but sightings of him have become rare. The missions have been diverse, the first a kidnapping and couple day roughing-up of a major supplier from Chiba trying to smuggle drugs into Deika.

Destro despised that sort of filth in his city, and we left the man beaten and conveniently found by the police. Then came a search-and-rescue operation for and older MLA member abducted by an organized group. They were transporting him by boat, making the mission a logistical nightmare, but we got him back. Reflecting on it, I've noticed how organized crime has resurged despite All Might still being active. 

The nations underbelly had only grown since the Hosu Game incident. 

I've also gotten some individual assignments, they have been simpler. Spying, data retrieval, tasks tailored to my skills. I didn't mind them, they were straightforward, efficient.

Tonight, however, was different. I was part of an escort mission with Nagant and Koku Hanabata, better known as Trumpet. 

The event was a formal government gathering. Koku, dressed to impress in a sharp suit, was leveraging his his growing political clout. From what he has said, only few here knew of his ties to the MLA. He'd embedded himself into politics so seamlessly that he was practically untouchable. His ambition? To become the next Minister of justice. From that position, he could influence policies aligning with the MLA's goals. 

Nagant and I were here to ensure nothing disrupted his image. Dressed in a tailored black suit with a mask covering the upper half of my face, I blended in well enough. My dreads which had grown some, were tied back, the tips dyed brown, a change I'd grown accustomed to. 

Nagant was in a sleek evening gown that belied her lethal precision, stood beside me. The Hero Commission had done an excellent job scrubbing her history, ensuring she was just another face in the crowd tonight. 

The venue was a sprawling ballroom, the air thick with wealth and power. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a soft golden light, reflecting off polished marble floors. Polite conversation filled the space, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses. Tables were adorned with white linens and elaborate centerpieces, each a testament to opulence. 

The attendees were a tapestry of Japan's elite, politicians, bureaucrats, influential business magnates. Their conversations carried an air of guarded ambition, every word measured, every gesture calculated. Among them were representatives from the Ministry of Justice, men and woman whose faces served as a reminder of the Hero Commission's far-reaching influence. Their proximity to power made them formidable. 

What struck me though, was the lack of mutant quirk users. Even here, in what was supposed to be one of the worlds more progressive societies, their absence was glaring. It wasn't just oversight, it was exclusion. Mutants rarely ascended to these heights, a silent acknowledgement of the biases that persisted. 

As the night wore on, I began to notice something else, a feeling of being watched. It was subtle, just on the edge of my perception, but unmistakeable. my instincts sharpened, and I let my gaze wander, scanning the crowd. Yet, I found nothing. No hostile glares, no furtive movements. Whoever it was, they weren't radiating malice, and so I chose to ignore it. Still, the sensation lingered, like a faint itch I couldn't scratch. 

Koku moved through the crowd with ease, his charisma drawing people to him like moths to a flame. He laughed at the right moments, offered the right compliments, and listened with an attentiveness that seemed genuine. People gravitated to him, they had envy and admiration for him. 

I looked over to Nagant, she stood silent and vigilant. "Spot anything interesting?" I murmured, keeping my voice low. 

Nagant didn't turn her head, but her eyes flicked toward a cluster of officials near the buffet table. "The man in the the gray suit with a red tie. Names Nishikawa. He's been cosying up to the current minister all night. Ambitious. If Koku's going going to face any real competition for the position it'll be him." 

"Doesn't look like much," I said, studying the man. He was short and balding, his laugh too loud as he gestured animatedly. "But I've learned to never underestimate the ones who blend in." 

"Smart." she finally turned her head slightly, giving me a sidelong glance. "Don't let your guard down, though. There's a room full of people who'd sell their families for an ounce of power." 

"Not a lot of mutants here," I said. 

Nagant's expression darkened. "They'll take their taxes, their labour, and their loyalty. But respect? That's reserved for the 'acceptable' quirks." 

I nodded, letting the bitter tone settle between us. 

As the evening dragged on, I felt that same prickle of being watched again. 

"Something wrong?" Nagant asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. 

"Just a feeling." I said, "Probably nothing." 

"Trust your instincts," she said, "They've kept you alive this long." 

Koku approached us, his face a perfect mask of calm confidence. "Enjoying yourselves?" he asked, his voice smooth. 

"Loads," I replied, deadpan. 

Nagant's lips twitched. "You're holding court well tonight. They like you." 

"They'll like me even more as their boss." Koku said, his eyes glinting. "Stay sharp. The night's just getting started." 

He moved off, seamlessly blending back into the crowd. Nagant and I exchanged a look. 

"I wonder if he could actually get there." 

****

As the night began to wind down, the grand hall softened with a hum of farewells and departing chatter. The atmosphere, once lively with conversation and political maneuvering, now carried an air of tiredness mixed with satisfaction. Glasses clinked one final time, final handshakes were exchanged, and the guests slowly trickled toward the exits. 

Nagant and I stayed near the fringes of the crowd, our eyes on Koku, who moved through the thinning sea of officials with practised ease. He wore a veneer of charm, his polite smiles and knowing nods making him blend perfectly into our fabric of this society. 

As if sensing our watchful gazes, Koku turned his head slightly in our direction. For a fleeting moment, his expression hardened, and then he gave a subtle nod. That was the signal. 

Nagant tapped my elbow lightly and whispered, "He's heading to his meeting. Stay sharp." 

I gave her a faint smirk. "If anything goes wrong I can always find a workaround." 

Her gaze lingered on me, sharp and assessing. "Kobe. Don't be careless." 

I rolled my eyes, but before I could offer a retort, she was already walking away, her focus locked on Koku as he disappeared into the corridor leading to a more private section of the venue. 

My job wasn't to follow him, though. 

Across the hall, my attention was drawn to a figure standing by the exit, engaged in polite conversation with a small group of officials. This was the other candidate that wanted the same position Koku was gunning for—Hideharu Kanzaki. 

Kanzaki was the textbook definition of a moral idealist with some dirty baggage in his past, he believed in justice and from what I was able to gather done everything by the book, his dirty baggage was just who he was associated with, like a junkie for a younger brother and a father with some scrubbed case. 

He had sharp features, with a clean-shaven face and short black hair streaked with gray. His tailored navy suit was immaculate, but it was his posture and the way he spoke that stood out: calm, confident, and unwavering. 

Kanzaki laughed softly at something one of the officials said, his voice warm and inviting. Even from a distance, I could tell he was the type to inspire trust. No wonder Koku would want him removed. A man like that wouldn't just be an obstacle to the MLA's goals—he'd be a thorn in the side of everything they stood for. 

As Kanzaki excused himself from the group and began heading toward the exit, I moved to follow, keeping a careful distance. He didn't notice me, too preoccupied with the police farewells he exchanged as he passed through the crowd. 

By the time we were outside, the cold night air had settled over the city, and the streets were quiet save for the occasional rumble of a passing car. Kanzaki sat in a black sedan, which was parked smoothly to the curb. 

I managed to follow by sticking to the shadows of roofs and alleys. Eventually the car pulled up to an upscale hotel in a quieter district of the city. Kanzaki stepped out, his demeanour still relaxed, and made his way inside. 

So far, so good. 

I lingered near the entrance, waiting for a group of other guests to walk in before slipping in behind them, blending into the flow of people. Inside, the lobby was sleek and modern, with marble floors and soft lighting. Kanzaki was already at the elevator, speaking briefly with the concierge before disappearing as the doors closed. 

Taking a moment to assess, I approached the concierge desk with a casual air. "Excuse me, I'm meeting a friend here—mid thirties, black hair, suit. I think I just missed him?" 

The woman behind the desk smiled politely. "Ah yes. Mr Kanzaki just checked in. He's on the twelfth floor." 

Perfect. 

I nodded my thanks and moved toward the elevators. Once I reached the twelfth floor, I stepped out into a plush, carpeted hallway. It was quiet, with only the faint hum of distant conversations and the occasional sound of a door closing. Kanzaki's room wasn't hard to find. 

But as I approached the door, I felt something off. A presence. My instincts flared, and I froze, scanning the hallway. It was then that I saw them. 

Two figures stood near the far end of the hall, partially obscured by a corner. Even from the distance, I recognized them immediately. 

Gran Torino and Best Jeanist. 

Gran Torino looked smaller than I expected in person, he was an old hero, one I didn't think was still active. His stature was unassuming. The old man's reputation preceded him, even if I'd thought he'd retired years ago. Best Jeanist, on the other hand, was as poised and composed as ever, his long denim-themed coat immaculate even in this setting. 

My stomach twisted slightly as I realized that Kanzaki had obviously hired them to guard him. He must have anticipated this. 

I leaned casually against the wall, pretending to check my phone as I thought through the situation. Why weren't they closer to him earlier? Was this a recent precaution, or had they been shadowing him the entire night? Either way, it didn't matter now since I still haven't been caught. 

They were here now, and they'd make my job infinitely more complicated. 

I felt a flicker of annoyance rise in my chest. I should've taken him out, before he got into the car that lead him to the hotel. Or even at the event, I could have made it work. 

***

The air in the hallway was still, but there was tension in the air. Gran Torino and Best Jeanist had left the vicinity of Kanzaki's room only a few minutes ago. I assumed they had stepped out to give him privacy while he showered or perhaps to coordinate something without risking eavesdropping from the candidate himself. It was my window, and I intended to make full use of it. 

I took one last glance at the hallway to confirm no one was watching me before focusing on the door. Best Jeanist had threads out, thin, translucent and almost imperceptible. Subtle and meant to pick up on movement and probably sound, so it's probably in the room. 

I crouched low, running my fingers along a frame of a door by my side, testing the gaps. With a slow breath, I activated it, feeling my form compress. My body flattened into a weightless sheet, bending and twisting like a slip of parchment as I slid through the bottom corner of the doorframe. 

Inside, the room was dark save for the faint glow of the city outside spilling through the curtains. It was sparsely decorated but high-end—polished wooden floors, leather chairs, and an unmade bed that hinted at Kanzaki's hurried arrival. 

The faint hiss of the shower drew my attention to the bathroom door, slightly ajar with steam curling into the air. It wasn't the sound of running water that stopped me though, it was the continuous glint of thread. Best Jeanist had rigged the space well. Every line was taut, creating a network of early warnings that would no doubt signal the heroes the moment one was disturbed. 

I couldn't help but grin. Only someone like me or Edgeshot would be able to get through them without notice. 

Carefully I moved through the threads, my paper-thin body slipping between them like a leaf caught in the wind. The shower's noise masked my movements. The clock was ticking—once Kanzaki was out the heroes would return. 

As I approached the bathroom, I heard Kanzaki's voice. At first, I thought he was on a call, but it became clear he was talking to himself. 

"...it's my ambition." he muttered, his voice contemplative. "Transparency, fairness... we owe the people that much." 

I stopped at the doorway, peeking inside. Through the frosted glass of the shower door, I could make out his silhouette—tall and lean, his movements unhurried. He continued to speak. 

"People are falling too deep into the business and politics of things, they'll eventually forget the justice. I will change that." 

For a moment, I hesitated. 

Killing him here and now, while the water masked the sound and the steam cloaked the scene—it was the perfect opportunity. Yet, as I listened to his words, something twisted in my gut. 

'Why am I even listening to Destro's orders so intently?' I asked myself.

It made no sense, I didn't even plan on staying with that freak for long, I wanted out, I had only agreed to stay until I found Daigo Kiyoshi. That rat Destro probably thinks that I'll start "enjoying" life with them. 

This guy wasn't didn't have the voice of a power-hungry politician or a corrupt official. This was a man who believed in what he was doing, someone who genuinely wanted to make a positive difference. 

I've killed before, but everyone I have killed has been bad. Even people the MLA want me killing. They were all bad people. But there was absolutely nothing I could find about this guy. If I did this then who was I better than? Do I even care for that? 

If Destro were to keep getting his way and gained a society where people use their quirks as they please then what? He'll probably want more, and what would that lead to? Another Eden project possibly? Searching for more powerful quirks to "aid" the nation. 

Dumb shit like that. 

Flattening my body I slipped under the bathroom door. The steam was thicker here, clinging to the air and obscuring the mirrors. I moved silently, positioning myself near the shower. 

Kanzaki's voice continued, softer now, almost wistful. "A world where justice isn't just a word. That's what we need. That's what I want to build..." 

I give up. The man's sincerity was disarming, and I hated it. 

Instead of stabbing through and killing him, I reached up and pulled the shower door open slightly, just enough to see his upper body. Kanzaki turned, startled, but before he could react, I clamped a hand over his mouth, pressing the blade to his ear. 

"Quiet," I hissed, my voice low and sharp. "Unless you want the heroes to find your body in pieces." 

His eyes widened in shock, but he didn't struggle. The paper knife was enough to keep him compliant. 

"Listen carefully," I continued. "People are trying to kill you. I was sent to do it." 

Kanzaki's breathing quickened, but he managed to keep silent. After a moment, he whispered against my hand, "I hired heroes..." 

"And they're not here, are they?" I shot back, smirking. "I walked right past them. They don't even know I'm in the room. Some protection." 

His expression hardened, a mix of fear and determination. "What do you want?" 

"First, you are going to help me fake your death," I said, releasing his mouth but keeping the knife close. "I need a scene, something convincing enough to keep my boss off my back." 

Kanzaki hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Fine. Do what you need to." 

He wasn't as panicked as I'd expected—if anything, he seemed to sharpen, his mind working through the situation. A good sign. 

Using the steam and a bit of blood that I slit from his hand, I created a convincing scene of struggle. Kanzaki cooperated without complaint, even suggesting ways to make it look more realistic. By the time I was done, it looked as though he'd been fatally stabbed and left for dead in the shower. 

I stepped back, snapping a few pictures with my phone before turning to him. "Here's the deal. You tell the heroes and the cops what I just told you. Then you disappear. Hide until the people who want you dead are dealt with." 

Kanzaki frowned. "Who's behind this?" 

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter. Let's just say I have a good feeling about you. So I don't plan on killing you." 

"Soryu..." He sputtered. "You're Soryu...?" 

I sighed, but I nodded and before he could say anything else I slipped out of the bathroom, instead of going out the door like I had entered I jumped out a window and glided away. 

I think that was the first time I truly went against an order from the MLA. 

I should start finding away to progress further and get out of there now.