Location: Minato Ward, Tokyo – Arisaka Consulting
Date: 08:00 AM (The Morning After the Billboard Reveal)
THWUMP-THWUMP-THWUMP-THWUMP.
Outside the reinforced, tinted glass doors of the Arisaka Consulting building, the streets of Minato Ward were in a state of absolute, deafening gridlock.
Three different news helicopters—representing Tokyo News, NHA, and a private freelance network—chopped through the overcast morning sky, their heavy cameras zoomed tightly on the building's entrance.
Down on the pavement, a small army of police officers was struggling to maintain the steel barricades against a surging, screaming crowd of reporters, photographers, and independent journalists.
FLASH-CLICK! FLASH! FLASH!
A block away, safely parked in a narrow alley behind a high-end bakery, the Sato Press mobile broadcast van hummed quietly.
Bzzzzt.
Inside the van, Hideki Sato sat in a plush leather swivel chair, wearing a rumpled suit and sipping a black coffee.
He stared at a bank of glowing monitors displaying live feeds from the chaotic street.
He wasn't pressing his face against the glass like a desperate rookie; he was the CEO of a rising media empire, and he orchestrated the chaos from the comfort of the shadows.
"Nagi, you're drifting too far to the left," Hideki barked into his headset, his eyes tracking a specific camera feed. "Hold your ground by the south pillar. When the Number 6 Hero walks out, I want the camera angled up. Make him look massive, but capture the disappointed look on his face. Arisaka isn't going to sign with a pure defense agency."
"Boss, I'm getting crushed out here!" Nagi's voice cracked over the earpiece, accompanied by the deafening roar of the crowd. "Death Arms just walked in, and I think I saw one of the Wild, Wild Pussycats! It's a madhouse!"
"It's not a madhouse, Nagi. It's an audition," Hideki smirked, taking another sip of his coffee. "The Golden Manager just proved he holds the keys to the Top 10. Stay sharp. The big fish are already swimming."
But inside the Arisaka Consulting building, insulated by military-grade soundproofing, the world was completely, beautifully silent.
Kaito Arisaka sat behind his pristine mahogany desk. The temperature of the room was a perfect twenty-one degrees Celsius.
To Kaito, it was simply a fully booked, highly optimized Monday morning schedule.
He looked a bit tired because of the sheer volume of logistical data he had processed over the weekend, but his posture was perfectly straight.
Hiss-thud.
The pneumatic doors of his office slid open, and the ambient temperature of the room instantly spiked by ten degrees.
Clomp. Clomp. Clomp.
Enji Todoroki—the Flame Hero, Endeavor—stepped into the office.
The Number 2 Hero didn't wear his blazing hero costume, opting instead for a heavy, impeccably tailored charcoal suit.
But even in civilian clothes, his sheer physical presence was suffocating. He didn't sit down.
He walked directly to the desk and slid a thick, platinum-bound contract across the polished wood.
Swaaash.
"You rejected my offer twice, Arisaka. I do not care about the collateral damage payouts. My accountants handle that," Endeavor stated, his deep voice vibrating the glass of water on Kaito's desk.
"I want your tactical routing. I want your structural logistics. I have the highest incident resolution rate in history, but All Might still beats me in sheer arrival time. Bridge that gap for my agency, Arisaka, and you can write your own salary."
Kaito picked up the contract.
"Your agency's raw output is undeniable, Endeavor-san," Kaito replied smoothly, tapping a silver pen against the folder.
Tap-tap.
"However, your operational methodology relies heavily on intense, localized thermal expansion to subdue targets. Hellflame requires oxygen. If I route you faster, it means you are arriving at urban centers before the fire department can establish a perimeter. Routing you faster simply means increasing the frequency of uncontrollable structural fires in densely populated zoning blocks."
Endeavor narrowed his eyes, clearly unused to being told no, let alone having his Quirk's physics thrown back at him.
"I will need to thoroughly review the municipal zoning data and calculate safe thermal blast-zones before I can commit to a hyper-accelerated urban deployment for you," Kaito finished, sliding the contract to the edge of his desk. "I do not build systems that I cannot perfectly control."
"....."
Endeavor stood in silence for a long moment.
Then, the massive man gave a curt, respectful nod. He didn't argue. He recognized a man who prioritized results over flattery.
As Endeavor left, the day blurred into a highly organized, relentless parade of legends.
Kaito navigated the complex ecosystem of Hero Society with calm pragmatism.
_-_-_-_-_
At 10:00 AM, the waiting room outside his office briefly turned into a warzone as Gang Orca (No. 10) and the lion-themed hero Shishido (No. 13) bumped shoulders.
"Out of my way, fish!"
"Watch your step, furball!"
The two fierce rivals immediately began glaring and growling at each other, arguing over who had the earlier appointment.
Kaito simply walked out, handed them both color-coded scheduling itineraries, and mediated their boisterous, combat-heavy energy by efficiently splitting their consultation times down to the minute.
At 11:30 AM, the Maritime Hero, Selkie, took the seat across from Kaito.
They didn't talk about fighting villains; they spent forty-five minutes discussing deep-sea nautical logistics, the rising diesel fuel costs for the Oki Mariner, and optimizing naval supply lines during typhoon season.
At 12:45 PM, Midnight walked in, looking incredibly frustrated by the HPSC's constant threats of censorship regarding her R-rated public image.
Kaito didn't judge her. Instead, he offered her a brilliant, legally compliant marketing loop—suggesting she lean into the "forbidden" aspect of her brand to drive up exclusive merchandise sales while technically staying within the HPSC's broadcast guidelines.
Shortly after, the Wild, Wild Pussycats arrived in full uniform. They wanted to expand their mountain rescue territory.
Kaito pulled up a topographical map, warmly pointing out the specific geographic bottlenecks in the rural response routes and offering a solution to establish forward-operating bases in the valleys.
Kaito was human. He was engaged, conversational, and deeply respectful of the different burdens each hero carried.
At 2:00 PM, the heavy doors opened, and Taishiro Toyomitsu—the BMI Hero, Fat Gum—squeezed into the office.
"Manager! Long time no see! Good to finally meet ya!" Fat Gum boomed, his massive, round body practically swallowing the guest chair.
He dropped a huge, steaming cardboard box onto Kaito's desk.
Thump.
"Brought you some of Osaka's finest! Try the takoyaki, it's fresh off the grill!"
Kaito actually smiled. He hadn't eaten since 6:00 AM.
"I appreciate the gesture, Fat Gum-san," Kaito said, taking a wooden skewer and actually eating a piece of the hot takoyaki.
Nom.
He hummed in genuine approval. "Excellent."
"Right?! Listen, the Kansai region is an absolute mess right now," Fat Gum sighed, his jovial demeanor dropping as he grabbed a handful of food for himself. "The Trigger drug is flooding the ports, and my sidekicks are drowning in the paperwork. We're street brawlers, Arisaka. We ain't accountants. If you can organize my supply lines and build a database to track these smuggling rings, I'll double whatever Snipe paid you!"
"Kansai's underground logistics are notoriously fractured," Kaito acknowledged, taking another bite and wiping his mouth with a napkin. "The Yakuza remnants complicate the standard police routing. I will review your precinct's data, Toyomitsu-san. The food goes a long way."
The eccentricities continued into the late afternoon.
At 3:15 PM, the doors didn't slide open; they were violently kicked ajar.
WHAM!
Rumi Usagiyama, the Rabbit Hero, marched into the room.
She didn't even say hello.
She dropped into the guest chair, kicked her heavy, metal-plated combat boots up, and slammed them directly onto Kaito's immaculate mahogany desk.
CLACK-THUD.
"Listen, Arisaka," Mirko demanded, crossing her arms. "I don't want a PR team. I don't want sidekicks. I just want to kick villains in the teeth without the city council suing me for cracking the pavement! Handle my property damage lawsuits, and I'll pay your ridiculous fee."
Kaito let out a long, heavy sigh.
Sigh.
He didn't yell. He calmly opened his top drawer, pulled out two thick, corkboard drink coasters, and silently slid them underneath Mirko's steel-plated heels so she wouldn't scratch his polished wood.
Rumi blinked, staring at the coasters in sheer disbelief.
"I will conduct a professional breakdown of your legal liabilities, Usagiyama-san," Kaito said, returning to his files. "But if you scuff my desk, I am adding a twenty percent hazard fee to your invoice."
"..."
"Haha! I like your guts, suit!" Mirko actually laughed loudly, thoroughly amused by his complete lack of intimidation. "You've got a spine. Handle my paperwork, and I'll make sure nobody touches your agency."
Rumi actually laughed loudly thoroughly amused by his complete lack of intimidation.
_-_-_-_-_-_
Edgeshot and Crust rotated through next, offering highly specialized contracts for deep-cover stealth networks and high-defense urban holding strategies, respectively.
Kaito listened to all of them, offering tailored, brilliant feedback.
But at 4:30 PM, the final appointment of the day arrived.
Tsunagu Hakamada—Best Jeanist, the Number 4 Hero—walked into the office.
He wore a bespoke, high-collared denim suit with immaculate, razor-sharp creases. His posture was flawless, projecting an aura of absolute, pristine control.
"Arisaka-san, nice to meet you again," Jeanist said, his voice smooth, refined, and perfectly modulated as he took a seat. "The Genius Office does not require standard patrol optimization, nor do we deal in the chaotic street brawls of my peers."
Jeanist elegantly crossed his legs.
Rustle.
"We cater to a very specific, highly insulated demographic. Our clients are Tokyo's absolute elite. The billionaires. The politicians. The global corporate magnates," Jeanist explained, his eyes sharp beneath his denim collar.
"We provide high-society security, corporate asset protection, and pristine public relations. I require a manager whose composure is as tightly woven as my own threads. Someone who can navigate the boardrooms of the 1% without missing a stitch."
Kaito looked at Best Jeanist.
He didn't just see a top-tier Pro Hero. He saw a backdoor.
He remembered the heavy, classified UN dossier Sir Nighteye had dropped on his car hood the night before.
To track All For One's missing billions, Kaito couldn't just look at street-level drug busts. He needed to track global shell companies, offshore accounts, and massive industrial purchases.
Endeavor was too destructive and loud. Fat Gum was too regional. Mirko didn't even own a computer.
But Best Jeanist? The Genius Office possessed the most elite, highly classified corporate servers in the country.
They already had legal, established pathways into the financial networks of the global elite.
Working for Jeanist was the absolute perfect "smokescreen."
It would give Kaito the legal clearance to sit at a high-end computer terminal all day, pretending to manage billionaire PR, while secretly using their massive server farm to hack offshore bank accounts and hunt the Demon Lord in the dark.
"Your demographic requires absolute discretion, Jeanist-san," Kaito said, his voice dropping into a flawless, corporate rhythm. "I appreciate the precision of your request. I will review the terms immediately."
_-_-_-_-_-_
Pitter-patter.
Pitter-patter.
At 6:00 PM, a light rain began to fall over Minato Ward.
The office was finally quiet.
The media blockade outside had mostly dispersed, leaving only a few soaked stragglers huddling under umbrellas.
Kaito sat alone at his desk. A mountain of platinum contracts rested to his left.
He rubbed his eyes, genuinely exhausted from eight straight hours of social maneuvering.
He picked up his office phone.
Beep-beep-beep.
He didn't just send a mass rejection email; he operated with the grace of a true professional.
He personally called the private lines of Endeavor, Fat Gum, Edgeshot, and the others.
"Endeavor-san. Your agency's potential is immense, but after reviewing the municipal logistics, I cannot currently accept the contract," Kaito said evenly into the receiver. "However, I will keep your file active for the next fiscal quarter. We can revisit the blast-zone metrics then."
He made the calls.
He left the doors open for the future. He didn't burn a single bridge.
Finally, Kaito opened his laptop.
Clack-clack.
He pulled up the encrypted portal for The Genius Office and attached his digital signature to the heavy PDF file.
[Contract Accepted. I will arrive at the Tokyo Tower branch Monday at 08:00 Hours.]
He hit send.
Whoosh.
The public alibi was officially secured.
_-_-_-_-_-_
Five stories down, on the rain-slicked street, the door to the Sato Press broadcast van slid violently open.
SLIDE-BANG!
Nagi tumbled inside, completely drenched and gasping for breath, shaking the rainwater from his jacket.
"Boss!" Nagi panted, shoving a soaked tablet into Hideki Sato's hands. "The HPSC public registry just updated! The Golden Manager filed his employment proxy!"
Hideki Sato sat up straight, nearly spilling his coffee.
He tapped the screen, his eyes scanning the digital press release.
Arisaka Consulting formally announces an exclusive management partnership with The Genius Office.
Hideki stared at the screen for a long, quiet moment.
Outside, the remaining news crews were already screaming into their microphones, the realization sending shockwaves through the reporters.
"Best Jeanist," Nagi whispered, wiping the rain from his face. "He rejected Endeavor. He rejected the muscle. Why would he pick a high-society PR firm?"
Hideki Sato leaned back in his leather chair, a slow, incredibly sharp smirk spreading across his face.
"Because he's not a street brawler, Nagi," Hideki chuckled, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the hunt.
"He didn't choose the strongest fighter. He chose the deepest pockets and the most fortified corporate servers in the country. Pack up the gear. The Golden Manager just bought himself the keys to the billionaire kingdom... and I want to know exactly whose vaults he's planning to open."
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Musutafu – District 4 Alleyway
Date: Friday | 21:00 Hours
Pitter-patter.
SPLASH.
The heavy rain battered the cracked asphalt of Musutafu's industrial district, washing trash and debris into the overflowing gutters.
"Give me the combination! Hand it over right now, or I'll carve you up!"
A massive, Trigger-enhanced thug cornered a terrified convenience store clerk against a damp brick wall.
The villain's arms had violently mutated into grotesque, jagged bone-blades, the illegal drug coursing through his veins and turning his eyes a sickly, glowing red.
"I—I don't have the combination to the safe! Please!" the clerk sobbed, dropping to her knees in the cold mud, shielding her head with her hands.
The villain snarled, raising his massive bone-blade to strike. "Then I'll just take your wallet from your corpse!"
THWIP-ZIIIIP!
A high-tensile carbon-fiber cord shot out of the darkness, wrapping tightly around the villain's mutated wrist.
"GAAH!"
The thug gasped as his arm was forcefully jerked backward.
He spun around, his red eyes scanning the dark, rain-slicked alleyway. "Who's there?! Show yourself!"
Footsteps echoed lightly against the wet pavement.
Step.
Splash.
Izuku Midoriya stepped out from the shadows of a broken streetlamp.
He was only eleven years old, but he wasn't just a Quirkless kid holding a scorched notebook anymore.
The baggy, oversized civilian clothes were gone.
Izuku wore a sleek, dark green tactical jumpsuit that fit snugly against a newly developed, athletic frame forged from a month of grueling martial arts training.
Fastened to his forearms were makeshift, metal-plated kinetic-dampening bracers he had engineered himself in his bedroom.
He gripped the end of the carbon-cord in his gloved hand.
His heart was hammering against his ribs, but his bright green eyes were sharp and determined.
Sitting perfectly still right beside his boots was Kuro.
The villain blinked through the rain, squinting at the small boy and the black-and-white cat.
Then, the thug's eyes widened in sudden recognition.
"Wait... the green hoodie? The cat?" The villain laughed, a harsh, grating sound of disbelief.
"HAHAHA...You're those alleyway kids! The vigilante duo from the news! You've been beating up stray animals for months, and now you think you can step up to the big leagues?!"
The villain violently yanked his arm, expecting to pull the eleven-year-old boy off his feet.
But Izuku didn't fly forward.
He instantly planted his boots, dropping his center of gravity flawlessly into the defensive horse-stance Master Kuro form had drilled into his muscle memory.
He held his ground.
Izuku's eyes darted across the villain's body, his brilliant mind slipping into its signature rapid-fire analysis.
Mumble-mumble-mumble...
"His upper body mass is increased by at least forty percent due to the Trigger mutation, which means his lateral pivot speed is severely compromised... his center of balance is top-heavy... if I parry the downward strike, the kinetic recoil will leave his lower guard completely exposed..."
Izuku stopped muttering.
HUUFF.
He took a deep breath, channeling the fearless, smiling courage of All Might and the cold, flawless logic of Hero X.
"I won't let you hurt her!" Izuku shouted, his young voice ringing clearly through the rain. He looked down at his partner. "Kuro! Samurai Form!"
SHHH-SNAP!
The reality around the cat rippled and warped.
Kuro's body rapidly elongated, his fur shifting into the shape of sleek, black, interlocking lamellar armor.
A traditional, stylized kabuto helmet formed over his feline head, and two razor-sharp, conceptual energy blades manifested in his paws.
The villain stumbled back, his drug-addled brain completely failing to comprehend the sudden, impossible transformation. "What the hell—it's a cat with a Quirk!"
"Now, Kuro! Let's go!" Izuku yelled.
"RAAAAGH! Die, you brats!" The villain lunged forward, throwing a wild, sweeping downward slash with his heavy bone-blade.
A month ago, Izuku would have frozen in pure terror, relying entirely on Kuro to take the hit.
Not tonight. Izuku didn't run away. He stepped directly into the villain's guard.
Izuku raised his left arm, angling his custom-built kinetic-dampening bracer just like Scientist Kuro had taught him.
CLANG! SKREEEE!
Sparks flew in the rain as the bone-blade ground against the metal plating.
The impact was incredibly heavy, rattling Izuku's teeth, but the bracer's internal springs absorbed the lethal kinetic shock, sliding the villain's blade harmlessly to the side.
"What?!" the villain gasped, his weapon completely deflected by an eleven-year-old boy.
With the villain's guard thrown wide open, Samurai Kuro moved like a shadow.
SWISH! SWISH!
Kuro didn't aim to kill.
Following Izuku's exact, non-lethal tactical blueprint, the armored cat delivered two blindingly fast, blunt-force strikes with the hilts of his energy blades, striking the specific nerve clusters directly behind the villain's knees.
"GAAAH!" the villain screamed, his legs buckling instantly as his nervous system misfired.
As the massive thug dropped heavily to his knees, Izuku pivoted perfectly on his heel, using the momentum of his dodge to throw a calculated, spinning roundhouse kick directly into the villain's exposed jaw.
CRACK!
The Trigger-thug's eyes rolled into the back of his head.
THUD-SPLASH.
The villain collapsed face-first into the muddy puddles of the alleyway, completely unconscious.
Izuku stood over the fallen villain, his chest heaving as the cold rain washed the dirt and sweat from his freckled face.
He looked at his shaking hands, encased in the gear he had built himself, and then he looked down at Samurai Kuro.
The armored cat gave him a slow, respectful nod, crossing his blades before shifting back into his normal, fluffy form.
Poof.
"We did it..." Izuku let out a breathless, triumphant laugh, a massive, brilliant smile breaking across his face.
He had just fought a Quirk-enhanced villain in close-quarters combat, and he hadn't taken a single scratch.
It wasn't raw, unearned power. It was hard work, science, and flawless tactical symbiosis.
"E-Excuse me?" a trembling voice called out.
Izuku blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He turned to see the convenience store clerk slowly standing up from the mud, clutching her uniform.
"You... you saved my life," the clerk stammered, her eyes wide with awe as she looked at the boy in the green suit. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"
Izuku instantly blushed, his fierce tactical demeanor melting away into the flustered, polite boy he truly was. He frantically waved his hands in the air.
"Ah! N-No problem at all, ma'am! I mean—just doing what a hero should do!" Izuku stammered, his face turning as red as a tomato.
He quickly scooped Kuro up into his arms. "I've already dialed the police on a burner phone, they'll be here in two minutes! S-Stay safe!"
Izuku turned on his heel and sprinted back into the dark, rainy alleyway, his heart soaring higher than it ever had in his entire life.
He didn't have a Quirk. But tonight, Izuku Midoriya was a hero.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Naruhata Ward – General Hospital
Date: Saturday | 10:00 AM
The sterile smell of antiseptic and bleach hung heavily in the quiet halls of Naruhata General Hospital.
Inside Room 412, the only sound was the slow, rhythmic
beep... beep... beep
of the heart monitor.
Iwao Oguro sat in a cheap plastic chair next to the hospital bed.
The massive, grizzled vigilante looked incredibly old today.
Without his brass knuckles or his trench coat, he was just a tired, broken man holding his comatose wife's frail hand.
Hanako had been asleep for years, trapped in a vegetative state caused by severe brain trauma during a villain attack.
The doctors had told him the neural pathways were permanently severed. She was never waking up.
"I brought you some fresh lilies, mom," Tamao whispered, gently placing a vase on the windowsill. The young girl stood next to her father, resting a comforting hand on his broad shoulder.
Standing near the door, Makoto, Koichi, and Kazuho watched the family in melancholic silence.
They had come to offer their support, knowing how heavy this anniversary was for Iwao.
Kaito Arisaka stood in the very back corner of the room, leaning casually against the wall.
He held a paper cup of terrible hospital coffee. To the others, he looked completely detached, just a busy corporate manager checking emails on his phone.
But Kaito wasn't looking at his screen. He was watching the digital clock on the wall.
09:59.
Exactly months ago, Kaito had visited this room alone. He had looked at the severed synapses in Hanako's brain.
With a microscopic, silent Snap of reality, he had initiated a slow, natural neural regeneration cycle.
He had calculated the precise biological timeframe it would take for the brain to safely rebuild itself without causing a fatal shock to her system.
10:00.
The months were up.
Beep-beep-beep.
The slow, methodical rhythm of the heart monitor suddenly hitched. It fluttered, the tempo increasing.
Iwao blinked, looking up at the screen.
"Doctor?" he rasped, his voice instantly tightening with panic. "Someone get a doctor! The machine is—"
Iwao froze.
The hand he was holding twitched.
It was a microscopic movement, just a faint squeeze of the fingers, but to Iwao, it felt like an earthquake.
"Hanako?" Iwao whispered, his breath catching in his throat.
On the bed, the woman's eyelids fluttered. She let out a soft, dry groan, turning her head weakly toward the sound of his voice.
Slowly, painfully, Hanako opened her eyes.
They were hazy and unfocused against the harsh fluorescent lights, but as they locked onto the massive, scarred man sitting beside her, they softened.
"Iwao..." Hanako breathed, her voice raspy from years of disuse. "You look... so old."
The plastic chair clattered to the floor as Iwao shot up.
The hardened, brutal vigilante—now the reinstated Pro Hero O'Clock—who broke bones in the alleys of Naruhata, completely shattered.
He dropped to his knees, burying his scarred face into the hospital blankets, his massive shoulders shaking as he wept openly, sobbing like a child.
"You're awake... you're awake," Iwao choked out, gripping her hand as if letting go would make her disappear.
Tamao burst into tears, throwing her arms around her mother's neck. "Mom! You're back! I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. It's because of me that you—"
Sniffle-sob..sob
By the door, Makoto covered her mouth with both hands, tears streaming down her face.
Koichi and Kazuho hugged each other, crying in sheer, unadulterated shock and joy. It was a medical impossibility. It was a miracle.
In the back corner of the room, Kaito Arisaka took a slow sip of his terrible coffee.
He didn't say a word. He didn't take credit. He just watched the broken family finally become whole again.
Behind his golden glasses, Kaito allowed himself a rare, soft, and completely genuine smile.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Date: Saturday | 23:30 Hours
The rain pelted against the thin glass of Kaito's cheap apartment window. The Oguro family was still in the hospital with the company. Checking for the now recovered Mrs. Oguro.
Beep.
Sitting at his small kitchen table, illuminated only by the harsh, blue light of his screen, Kaito booted up the Level-0 HPSC encrypted laptop Sir Nighteye had given him.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Kaito's fingers flew across the keyboard.
He didn't start with bank accounts; he started with the raw materials.
He pulled the deep-state import logs from the Port of Yokohama and the Tokyo Bay shipping manifests.
He was hunting the millions of gallons of nutrient fluid and the industrial gestation glass All For One had purchased for his biological army.
"The money didn't move straight to Shizuoka," Kaito muttered, his eyes tracking the scrolling lines of encrypted code. "It was routed through a proxy. A massive, legitimate corporate entity to wash the paper trail."
Kaito bypassed three layers of standard banking firewalls, exploiting the sheer processing power of Nighteye's deep-state clearance.
He traced the serial numbers on the shipping containers backward.
He hit a cryptographic wall.
It wasn't a villain's sloppy encryption; it was a military-grade corporate defense network.
"Interesting," Kaito whispered. He leaned forward, his analytical mind fully engaged.
He ran a decryption algorithm, breaking the final shell company's lock. The screen flashed green, and a massive corporate logo appeared on his screen.
Detnerat Company.
Lifestyle Support Items & Gear.
Kaito frowned.
Detnerat was a massive, publicly traded conglomerate specializing in hero support gear.
Why was a legitimate Fortune 500 company laundering biological hardware for All For One?
Kaito didn't stop.
He dug deeper, hacking directly into Detnerat's internal, highly classified communication servers.
He bypassed the CEO's personal firewalls.
He began reading the intercepted data packages.
They weren't buying gestation glass. They were buying black-market weapons. Satellite jamming networks. Military-grade combat armor.
They were secretly arming a private corporate militia of over a hundred thousand people.
"Did All For One subdue these guys ahead of time?" Kaito thought as he remembered how Shigaraki was designed by AFO to take control of MLA in the anime.
But as Kaito read the encrypted emails between the CEO, Rikiya Yotsubashi, and his top executives, a cold, surreal feeling washed over him.
"...."
"...."
"Huh?!"
They weren't working for All For One. They actively despised him.
Kaito pulled up a classified, internal manifesto written by Rikiya himself, distributed to the inner circle of the Meta Liberation Army.
["The archaic laws of this society are crumbling. The false idols of All Might and the relic known as All For One are obsolete. We have witnessed the true peak of human evolution. The Singularity has arrived. He walks among us in a white suit. Hero X is the divine architect of the new dawn. We will crush the Demon Lord, we will tear down the Hero Commission, and we will pave the streets with gold so the Singularity may lead us to absolute liberation."]
Kaito stopped typing.
He stared at the glowing screen. The silence in his cheap apartment was deafening.
He read the manifesto again. And then a third time.
All For One was out there building something.
And now, a multi-billion-yen corporation had secretly militarized a cult of a hundred thousand terrorists because they literally worshipped him as a god.
Kaito took off his golden glasses.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, resting his elbows on the table. He sat there in the dark for a long, agonizing minute.
"I just wanted to sleep," Kaito whispered into the empty room, his voice heavy with profound, deadpan exhaustion.
Click.
He closed the laptop. The shadow war was infinitely worse than Nighteye could have ever predicted.
_-_-_-_-_
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(9 Advanced Chapters)