Mewtwo watched the hero below, following his path through the streets until he saw where he was headed—the main police station. It was the one most pro heroes used when they worked alongside the police or needed access to shared records for ongoing cases.
Seeing the hero move toward the building, Mewtwo realized that at least part of the Bureau's report to Kaina had been accurate. The information they had provided to Kaina said that this hero planned to infiltrate the police archives to steal confidential files—classified data about the Bureau, criminal records, and even property belonging to protection agencies—to sell them to villain groups.
That was the Bureau's story.
But according to Lady Nagant, the truth was completely different. She had told Mewtwo about the woman who had lost her family and the Bureau's cover-up of the accidental killings. The hero he was now following wasn't a traitor—he was simply searching for the truth that had been buried.
Even so, Mewtwo wanted to confirm it for himself. He trusted his mentor almost completely, but he needed proof. If this hero really had evidence—solid proof, not just rumors—Mewtwo would use it to strengthen his own case against the Bureau.
As they neared the police station, Mewtwo decided to move ahead. He stopped tailing the hero and flew past him, entering the building through the upper windows. The hero saw someone fly overhead but didn't pay much attention; heroes came and went constantly from that place, and one more presence wasn't unusual.
Inside, Mewtwo approached the receptionist and handed her his ID along with a folder containing a formal request to access the archives. The paperwork mentioned that he was there to review information about the Fanatic, a serial killer who turned his victims into grotesque religious symbols. It was a believable pretext—something the director himself had approved. This way, Mewtwo could be inside the same section of the archives the other hero was heading to, without raising suspicion.
According to the director's orders, once the hero began searching for files about the Bureau, Mewtwo was supposed to signal a team waiting nearby to quietly arrest him.
The receptionist reviewed the papers, nodded, and allowed Mewtwo in.
He didn't waste a second. Once inside the archive hall—a maze of shelves filled with case reports—he took the chance to look through the Fanatic's file. The details were as disturbing as they were incomplete. The killer's acts were documented, but the man himself was a ghost. No fingerprints. No DNA. No surveillance footage. Nothing but the aftermath of his crimes.
Each crime scene was different, scattered across Japan with years between incidents. There was no clear hunting ground or pattern. One attack might happen in the north, the next in the south months later, then another far to the east. sometimes twice in the same area The randomness made the case impossible to trace.
Driven by curiosity, Mewtwo moved to another section of the archives—one of three shelves kept separate from the rest. Each was labeled with a single name. The one that caught his attention read The Nightmare.
It referred to another symbol of terror in Japan, one of three major figures in the country's criminal folklore. Unlike the Fanatic, this one rarely killed.
He left his victims alive—but broken. His Quirk allowed him to attack through dreams, turning nightmares into reality. If someone dreamed of being bitten by a snake, the wound would appear on their real body.
Just reading it made Mewtwo uneasy. He could only imagine what kind of mind could turn fear itself into a weapon.
The fear surrounding this villain was unlike anything else. His unpredictability made him infamous across Japan. People called him one of the "Symbols of Fear," because, like the others, there was no clear pattern to his crimes. Anyone could be next. The only comfort civilians had was that his number of victims was small compared to Japan's population—and that, apparently, people could use their Quirks within their dreams to defend themselves. Thanks to that. most of his victims "survived", though they were left terrified, haunted by nightmares that felt far too real.
As Mewtwo studied the files, the person he had been waiting for finally arrived. He didn't look up right away; instead, he kept reading while quietly expanding his psychic awareness across the entire room. His mind brushed over every presence, every heartbeat, every faint rustle of paper—until he found the pro hero. The man was heading exactly where Mewtwo expected: toward the section containing the Bureau's investigation records.
That was all the proof Mewtwo technically needed. His mission was to confirm the hero's intent and, if he accessed restricted files, signal the team waiting outside to arrest him.
Simple. Clean. But Mewtwo wasn't ready to act—not yet. He wanted to know the truth before turning anyone in.
So he made a choice.
He followed.
Moving casually through the aisles, he pretended to browse through other shelves, pulling out random folders as if he were simply another investigator. The pro hero noticed him and grew tense. His movements became rigid; he glanced at Mewtwo from the corner of his eye again and again, trying not to show his nerves.
Mewtwo pretended not to notice. As he passed, he gave the man a polite nod, then drifted to another section of shelves. From there, he continued his own research—pulling files related to the investigators in charge of the Fanatic and Nightmare cases. Oddly, none of the names matched any well-known heroes or detectives. Not one. For such high-profile investigations, that was more than strange—it was deliberate.
Unlike cases involving the Symbol of Progress or the wielder of One For All, these had been handled by people no one had ever heard of.
As Mewtwo studied, he quietly moved farther from the pro hero, giving him space—but not releasing his psychic focus. With a light mental touch, he brushed over the folders the man was handling, memorizing their texture and content. He would examine them in detail later, safely and privately.
Feeling that Mewtwo had moved away, the pro hero relaxed a little and returned to his reading. But as he went deeper into the files, his expression changed. His eyes widened, then narrowed into something harder—anger, maybe disbelief. He flipped through the pages faster, reading something that clearly disturbed him. Then, abruptly, he stood up and turned toward the exit.
Or rather—he tried to.
His body froze mid-step, unable to move. Confusion flashed across his face as his eyes darted around the room until they locked onto Mewtwo.
The psychic stood several meters away, one hand raised, eyes glowing with calm intensity. The air shimmered faintly between them as the hero's folders lifted off the table and floated toward Mewtwo.
In seconds, the papers unfolded in front of him, pages turning in midair as Mewtwo read through them at impossible speed, his gaze scanning every line, every detail, every secret that the Bureau had tried to keep hidden.
At the same time the pro hero froze, a calm voice echoed inside his mind—clear, steady, unmistakably Mewtwo's.
"I understand what's bothering you. Information is missing—and from what I've read, there's false evidence here too. I see now… you're investigating multiple cases involving heroes and civilian deaths. That's noble. But there's a problem—you've left a trail. The Bureau sent me to confirm whether you were working against them. And if you make a move to leave or start a fight, there's already a team waiting outside. In short, I'm not your enemy. I'm investigating them too."
The pro hero's shoulders loosened slightly, his tension fading. "So the woman was right," he said aloud, voice low but heavy. "The Bureau covered up those deaths to protect a hero's reputation—and now they're trying to silence anyone who digs too deep. And you… you came to warn me? Are you telling me to stop?"
Mewtwo shook his head. "No. I'm not here to warn you. Officially, I'm supposed to report that you're accessing files you shouldn't. That's all. But I don't trust them either. I'll tell the Bureau that you were reviewing unrelated records. After that, you need to erase your tracks carefully. If they realize you're still investigating, they'll send someone else—and next time, it won't be me."
Then, switching on his helmet's intercom, Mewtwo spoke aloud for the cameras.
"The hero is leaving the archives. It seems he was just verifying unrelated case data. Nothing suspicious. That's all."
He ended the call and let out a quiet breath.
"You'll be safe for a while," he told the hero telepathically. "But if you keep digging this carelessly, they'll send another agent—and that one won't hesitate."
He turned to go, ready to leave through the rooftop exit, when the hero's voice echoed back in his mind.
"Then tell me—what do you actually know about the Bureau?"
Mewtwo hesitated. The question hung heavy in the silence. Revealing too much could put them both in danger, yet staying quiet would doom the man to ignorance—and possibly to disappearance.
After a pause, he finally answered. "This will probably cause me trouble later… but fine. The Bureau isn't as clean as they want people to think. That's all you need to know for now. There are already others investigating them—people who know how to move without being noticed. Don't interfere. Not yet. Otherwise, they'll take down anyone connected to you. And I mean anyone."
With that final warning, Mewtwo turned and shot upward through the corridor, phasing through the roof and into the open sky. He flew straight toward the Bureau headquarters, his mind heavy with what he'd just risked.
When he landed and entered the main building, he was immediately called into the director's office.
"Raiden-kun," the director greeted him with his usual false warmth. "I heard you didn't find anything unusual during your mission?"
"That's right, sir," Mewtwo replied evenly, keeping his tone neutral. "I checked everything the hero accessed. There was nothing out of place."
The director smiled faintly, though his eyes betrayed no emotion. "Good. I knew we could trust your judgment."
Mewtwo nodded once, but inside, his mind was already elsewhere—on the hero he'd just saved, on the evidence he'd seen, and on how deep the Bureau's corruption truly ran.