Yuta blinked once.
Twice.
"…Eri?"
His stomach dropped.
No. No, no way. No way in hell—
His brain started connecting dots he really didn't want connected.
White hair.
Red eyes.
One horn.
Bandages.
Bare feet.
Eri.
Eri.
His pulse spiked.
If that was Eri—
Then the man in front of him…
Tall.
Black shirt.
White gloves.
Purple feathered collar.
Plague doctor mask.
A second man behind him, huge, masked, silent.
Recognition slammed into him like a train.
No. No, no, no—
Overhaul.
Yuta's breath stalled mid-inhale. He wasn't much of an MHA fan and had stopped at the early stages of season 4.
If he remembered right, this girl behind him, Eri, had appeared in episode 4. Running away in the streets of the city before bumping into Deku during his work studies.
and this guy before him was her Tormentor ... Overhaul. Leader of the Shie Hassaikai .
'But how could it be here? This shouldn't be the. ..'
His thoughts stalled.
Come to think of it, the city in question were the Overhaul Arc took place was never named.
Even if it was, he doubt he would even remember it, nor would it have been the first thing to come to mind.
'To think ... Of all the stops I could have woken up at ... Not one stop earlier or one stop later ..'
He gritted his teeth.
'It just had to be here.'
He had wandered into that moment. Months before it was supposed to happen. Without heroes, backup, or preparation of any kind.
'Great .. Just great.'
"Mhmm." Overhaul responded indifferently.
"That's my daughter. It's unfortunate she had to be a disturbance. Now do yourself a favour and move."
"Uh ..."
Yuta blinked. ".. I see. Right. It's no problem."
He moved out of the way with quick steps. "In that case, I'll just be ... Huh?" He stiffened mid speech.
Two small, trembling hands clamped around Yuta's leg.
He froze.
Slowly—carefully—he looked down.
Eri stared up at him, eyes wide, terrified, glassy with the kind of fear that didn't belong on a child's face. Her fingers dug into his pants like she was holding onto the last solid object in the world.
The sight hit him like a punch to the chest.
"…hey—" he whispered, barely breathing. "It's okay, I didn't—"
Her lips moved.
"…help."
It wasn't loud. Coming out as barely a whisper.
And it shattered him.
'I ..'
Before he could react, Overhaul spoke again—calm, flat, yet clearly irritated. "Eri." She jolted like she'd been shocked.
"What could you possibly need help with from a stranger?" he asked, tone deceptively light, almost bored. Eri didn't answer. She just pressed closer to Yuta's leg, gripping tighter, shaking harder.
Yuta's mind blanked.
'Don't do anything crazy! Don't be rash ..' The thought had barely formed when he did the stupidest thing he could've done.
He bent down, slipped a hand under her arms, and lifted her gently against him.
A small weight—barely anything—but it felt like holding a live grenade.
He turned stiffly toward Overhaul, using his quirk to keep his voice level.
"Um… your daughter seems… really scared." Overhaul's gold eyes narrowed behind the mask.
"It's not good to pry into things that are none of your business, kid."
Behind him, the larger man—Rappa, unmistakably—shifted his stance. No threat display. Just presence. Enough to remind Yuta he was surrounded.
This was suicide. Yuta swallowed, throat dry.
Just when he contemplated his next move ... Eri trembled in his arms.
Her breath hitched. Her fingers dug into his shirt with desperate, silent force. Yuta's words hung in his throat.
'To think ..'
His stomach churned despite keeping a straight face. Not due to his current deadly situation, but rather
... 'I can .. feel her terror ..'
He had seen children in his neighborhood. With dreams, aspirations and energy. They laughed, played, cried after being bullied and smiled while doing the bullying. Hell, he had been one of them.
Yet now, the raw terror this girl's body movements radiated ... From a child her age ...
'Just what has this girl been through to react like this.'
It unsettled him deeply.
Seconds trickled past. And the more he waited, the faster his heart ran. And in those swarming thoughts, all thinking of the best approach to this matter, a brash, impulsive one that carried little concern to self preservation bulldozed it's way to the top.
'Give her back? Like this? To him who'll do who knows what? Why?'
His eyes nearly widened at the absurdity. He didn't want to give her back. He really, really didn't.
But ...
'What choice do I have?'
His heart hammered.
He forced himself to breathe.
Think. Think. THINK.
He had two options: Fight Overhaul — impossible.
There was no doubt about it. Yuta wasn't dumb enough to believe he stood a solid chance at winning. He would die. One touch was all it would take.
That left option two. Escape. Compared to the first, that was doable. He didn't need to take on Overhaul. He just needed to find someone who could force him to retreat without sheer force.
The police? The heroes? Someone—anyone—else could help her.
He couldn't fight a boss-level villain with bare hands.
'Escape. Just escape with her.' Yuta's stance shifted slightly. 'I just need to get to the other end of the alley. If I can execute the body flicker again ..'
His eyes drifted. 'It should work if I do it before they can react. Run. Body Flicker. Grab her and go.' He reached for that feeling he had earlier in the day.
Chakra spread throughout his body.
His mind raced—calculating angles, distance, steps.
Left foot shift, lower his center of gravity, tighten his grip around Eri, flex the muscle needed to launch—
He hadn't moved yet.
Not consciously.
But his muscles had.
Tiny changes in posture.
Micro-adjustments toward retreat.
Signals someone like Overhaul—who specialized in biological modification, could read instantly.
"Ah."
Overhaul tilted his head. "You're thinking of running." The words landed nonchalantly. But they slammed into Yuta like a block of ice.
His spine went rigid.
Cold stabbed down his neck.
Every cell in his body screamed MOVE NOW.
The world blurred. Yuta didn't even consciously decide. His body flickered sideways, arms wrapped around Eri, as Overhaul's gloved fingers sliced through the empty air where his torso had been.
The wall behind him exploded from the missed touch, stone vaporizing into dust.
"I should have expected a student of U.A to similarly be infected with their disease of heroism."
Overhaul murmured to no one.
'Dammit. I'm such an idiot.' Reappearing, Yuta's face turned grim. '.. If I had ...'
His gaze briefly lingered in the wall, before turning his gaze and disappearing once again.
'Don't Think, Just Get Out Of Here.'
He thought, flickering towards the exit. There was no turning back now. 'All I have to do is ...'
A palm slammed the ground. The ground under Yuta's feet instantly collapsed.
'What the ...'
Numerous spikes emerged without warning. Instantly, the alley turned to chaos.
Debris rained down in brittle clatters. Dust filled the alley, thick enough to taste.
A deep rumble faded.
"…Tch."
Rappa straightened his back, unfazed by the exploding floor. "Oi, Chisaki," he grunted, flicking a chunk of rubble off his shoulder. "That's gonna bring heroes running."
Overhaul didn't even look at him.
"I'm aware," he muttered, voice low with irritation. He raised a hand and brushed a fleck of dust off his glove like it was contamination. "This alley is filthy enough. No need to make it worse."
Rappa snorted. "You did that."
"Hm." Overhaul's tone remained flat. "I'll repair it before anyone arrives."
He took a step forward.
"Now then. That's done. Time to get—"
He paused.
The smoke thinned.
In a small pocket of untouched ground—just barely big enough to stand in—a figure crouched low, clutching a trembling girl to his chest.
Yuta.
Dust settled around him in slow motion.
Dozens of jagged spikes surrounded the pocket he'd escaped into, inches from impaling him, forming a cage of stone fangs. Yet not one had touched him.
His chest heaved. His grip around Eri tightened.
And his eyes—
Crimson glow. Three tomoe spinning.
Sharingan.
Overhaul's pupils narrowed behind the mask.
"…Hn. Would you look at that."
Yuta didn't hear him. Not really.
His mind was a roar of panic, instinct, and dizziness.
'That was too close—too close—'
His eyes examined the area around him, before settling on Overhaul.
'I did not think this through.'
__
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