Location: Nagano Prefecture – The Beast's Forest Hub
Date: Monday | 07:00 AM (1.5 Months after Chapter 80)
HUMMMMM.
On the newly reinforced roof of the lodge, twenty high-altitude drones—rugged, black machines—lifted from their magnetic charging pads.
They rose into the heavy mountain mist.
WHIRRR.
Inside the command center, the change from a month ago was staggering.
What used to be a cramped gear room filled with muddy boots and tangled climbing ropes had been gutted and rebuilt.
Now, a wall of high-definition monitors displayed live topographical feeds, heat signatures, and the steady, rhythmic icons of the "Tactical Link."
Shino Sosaki—Mandalay—sat at the center of this hive.
She wore a specialized headset, her eyes closed as she leaned back in a heavy steel chair.
She wasn't looking at the screens because she didn't have to. Through the mental bridge Kaito had helped her construct, she was the "Grid."
She felt every heartbeat on the mountain as a distinct, pulsing spark.
TAP. TAP. CLACK.
"Certification Trial 09 is live," Shino said.
Her voice was low, steady, and lacked even a trace of the frantic energy that used to define their rescues.
She was no longer just a hero; she was an instructor.
"Fifty participants are in the zone. They've cleared the first three miles of the incline. Tiger, report on the ground flow."
CRACKLE.
"The sidekicks from the city are struggling with the shale," Tiger's voice rumbled back through the link.
Down on the slopes, Tiger stood on a jagged outcropping, his massive arms crossed.
He watched as a group of thirty Pro Heroes and their sidekicks scrambled up the ridge.
They were geared up in expensive, flashy costumes that were quickly becoming caked in Nagano mud.
"They're trying to use their Quirks to blast their way up," Tiger noted, his mind-voice sounding unimpressed. "The one from the Tokyo firm just wiped out on a patch of black ice. He's trying to fight the mountain. He hasn't learned to walk it yet."
"Let them struggle for another ten minutes," Shino replied calmly. "Ragdoll, give them the first mark. Let's see who actually listens."
SQUAWK.
High on the jagged peak of the North Ridge, Tomoko—Ragdoll—was perched on a rock that looked far too small to hold her.
Her oversized yellow gloves were tucked under her chin, and her lime-green eyes glowed with a predatory light.
"I've got the lock!" Tomoko chirped, her mental voice bouncing with its usual kinetic energy.
"Three 'victims'—weighted training dummies with pulse-boxes—are tucked into the frozen drainage line near the western cliff. The fog is rolling in thick now. If they don't follow the 'feeling,' they're going to be looking for hours."
Kaito stood by the large bay window at the back of the lodge, a mug of black coffee held in his hand.
Today he had opted for a heavy, dark-grey fleece and rugged hiking boots that had actually seen some dirt.
"Let them fail," Kaito Arisaka's voice cut in.
"They aren't here to be coddled, Tiger," he continued, his eyes fixed on the map. "If they can't follow the 'feeling' Mandalay is pushing to them, they don't get the certification. We aren't selling a badge; we're selling a guarantee that they won't die out there."
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Outside, on the slopes, the fifty heroes felt a sudden, sharp "tug" in their minds. It wasn't a voice; it was an instinct.
It was the "Tactical Link" pushing the direction of the victims directly into their sensory cortex.
A few of the younger sidekicks stopped, looking around in confusion, but the veterans—those who had been here for a week already—immediately pivoted.
They stopped looking at their GPS units and started looking at the ground.
RUMBLE.
High on a jagged peak, Tomoko—Ragdoll—let out a shriek of delight. Her lime-green eyes scanned the valley, locking onto the hidden markers.
"Three 'victims' found!" she chirped into the link. "A sidekick from the Ryukyu agency actually listened to the Handrail! She followed the ridge Pixie-Bob built and walked right to the dummy in under ten minutes. That's the Pussycat Standard in action, baby!"
The logic was simple, but brutal. By turning the Pussycats into a Certification Hub, Kaito had effectively monopolized the "Rescue Points" for the entire region.
Every time one of these sidekicks saved a life using a Pussycat technique or a Pussycat drone, the credit was shared.
The Pussycats had become the "Say-so" for national safety, and their rank had soared because they were now the foundation that other agencies stood upon.
"It's a clean line, Ryuko-san," Kaito murmured to the empty room, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips.
He turned back to the main ranking board on the wall.
OFFICIAL NATIONAL RANKING: 16 – WILD, WILD PUSSYCATS.
They had climbed twenty spots in six weeks. They were no longer a "niche" rescue group that people only called when a landslide hit.
They were the National Standard. Every agency that wanted to be taken seriously for disaster relief was now sending their best people to Nagano to earn the "Pussycat Certification."
SLUMP.
The heavy front door of the lodge groaned on its hinges as it was pushed open.
A blast of cold, mountain air rushed in, swirling around the warm interior.
Yokumiru Mera stepped inside, looking like a man who had been dragged through a gravel pit and then forced to file a thousand pages of paperwork.
His eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles. His suit was wrinkled, and he carried a briefcase.
"This place... is too loud," Mera groaned, rubbing his temples with one hand while the other fumbled for a bottle of canned coffee in his pocket. "The radio waves... the drones... I can feel the headache starting in my teeth."
"That's the sound of a system that works, Mera-san," Shino said, not opening her eyes. "Welcome back to Nagano. I assume you're here for the final audit of the Hub?"
"I'm here because the Commission is panicking," Mera muttered, collapsing into a chair near the fire. "You've privatized the rescue standard. Half the agencies in Tokyo are complaining that they can't get their insurance renewed unless they have your seal of approval. Do you have any idea how many meetings I've had to sit through because of you, Arisaka?"
Kaito didn't turn around. "I imagine it's quite a few, Mera-san. But the data doesn't lie. Rescue times in the Nagano range are down eighty percent. Fatalities are zero. The Commission should be thanking us for making their jobs easier."
Beside Mera stood a woman in a long, dark trench coat.
Her purple hair was pulled back tightly, and her eyes were like scanning the command center.
Kaina Tsutsumi—Lady Nagant. For her, scanning was just a habit.
Years ago, she had been given a "Conditional Release" from Tartarus.
The HPSC was terrified of the emergence of "Hero X" in Musutafu Fire Disaster phenomenon and needed a hunter who understood the hiding shadows.
She was their "Ghost Asset," and she had spent three years looking for a vigilante who didn't exist in any file.
Until two years ago, she had been "humbled" in a dark alley by a man who treated her Quirk like a toy.
The HPSC had kept her on a leash ever since, a "Ghost Asset" whose only purpose was to track Hero X.
She was on a "conditional release," acting as a field observer for Mera, but the truth was simpler: she was the only one who knew what "Absolute" power felt like.
Nagant's eyes landed on Kaito. She saw a young man with golden glasses and a calm, boring demeanor.
He looked like the thousands of other paper-pushers she had seen in the Commission hallways.
"So this is it," Nagant said, she walked over to the bay window, her boots clicking softly on the hardwood.
She looked out at the "Handrails" winding through the forest and the drones circling the peaks.
"It looks like a prison for the mountain," she said, her eyes fixed on a drone as it dived into a ravine to check a heat signature. "You've taken the 'wild' out of the forest. You've turned rescue into a factory line."
"I've taken the 'luck' out of it, Miss," Kaito said, finally turning to face her.
He recognized her but Kaito didn't flinch at her gaze. He remembered how he met her few years back.
"Luck is a variable that kills people. I prefer a guide. The mountain is a beast, yes. But even a beast is more useful when it has a collar." Kaito continued.
"You talk like a man who thinks he can control everything," Nagant whispered, her eyes narrowing.
"I don't control the mountain," Kaito replied, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "I just manage the consequences of people who think they can. Now, Mera-san, if you're finished complaining, Tiger is about to bring in the first group of participants. I suggest you get your clipboard ready. The Pussycat Standard doesn't wait for late arrivals."
WHIRRR—BIP.
The main monitor flashed as the three dummy heartbeats turned green.
"Trial 09 complete," Shino announced, her voice echoing through the mental link.
"Recovery time: twelve minutes, forty seconds. All fifty participants accounted for."
Kaito looked at Mera. "Twelve minutes. A year ago, that would have taken twelve hours. Now, let's see the HPSC try to argue with that."
_-_-_-_-_
Location: Mie Prefecture – A Construction Site
Date: Tuesday | 12:00 PM
CLANG. RATTLE. THUMP.
A twelve-year-old girl with round cheeks and short brown hair wiped sweat from her forehead.
Ochaco Uraraka gripped the handle of a heavy steel bucket filled with wet cement. Her father was across the site, his back straining as he lifted a reinforced girder.
K-CHHHH.
A small, portable radio sitting on a stack of bricks crackled to life.
"YEEEEAAAH! This is the Voice Hero, Present Mic, bringing you the noon-time Hop!" the radio screamed. "Hold onto your hats, listeners! O'Clock Records has done it again! The viral sensation Pop★Step has released a new song, and it's already the most requested track in the country!"
THUMP-THUMP-TSS. THUMP-THUMP-TSS.
The high-energy beat of "Pop Step" exploded from the cheap speakers.
"Kagayake kirameke!
Pop Step! Pop Step!
Anata ni todoke!"
(Shine and sparkle!
Pop Step! Pop Step!
I'll reach you!)
Ochaco stopped.
She felt the beat in her feet, a rhythmic "Hop" that seemed to make the heavy bucket feel just a little bit lighter.
She began to hum along, her small frame swaying to the driving melody.
"It's the song from Naruhata, Dad!" Ochaco shouted over the noise of the mixer. "The one everyone is talking about!"
Her father looked up, a weary smile touching his face.
He watched his daughter move with a new kind of energy, her exhaustion replaced by the bright, professional pulse of the music.
Across the country, in a quiet, pristine bedroom in the suburbs, thirteen-year-old Himiko Toga sat on her bed.
She held a pair of headphones to her ears, the "normal" mask she wore every day beginning to crack.
She liked the pulse of the song. It felt like a heartbeat. A loud, honest heartbeat that didn't hide behind manners.
She closed her eyes and let the "Pop Step" rhythm fill the silence of her room, a momentary spark of light before her world turned red.
_-_-_-_-_
Location: Musutafu – The Todoroki Estate
Date: Wednesday | 10:00 PM
HISS. SSSSST.
The sound of steam rising from a cooling basin was the only noise in the oppressive silence of the traditional room.
Shoto Todoroki, now eleven years old, sat on the tatami floor, his small frame hunched over.
The air in the room was freezing, a deliberate choice to numb the dull, throbbing ache on his left side where his father's "lessons" had left their mark.
The smell of burnt wood clung to his hair and skin like a second layer of clothing.
Shoto didn't move to wash it off. He didn't touch the bandages.
He simply sat in the dark, the pale, flickering glow of a small handheld digital player reflecting in his mismatched eyes.
Shoto wasn't looking at the official hero rankings.
He wasn't looking at the puff pieces about Endeavor's rising approval.
Instead, he had navigated through three different encrypted layers to a site that shouldn't exist—the "X-Vault."
WHIRRR.
Shoto found this hidden website two years ago by accident, following a series of dead-end links.
Due to Hero X, vigilantism is all time high. Countless footage or videos are uploaded here including the footage of Hero X videos and others.
This time Shoto was scrolling, he saw shaky videos of different vigilante. He even saw a cat-like figure.
Ding.
And then, another recommended video was in the notification. Shoto clicked it.
The video took a moment to load, the grainy footage showing a shaky view from a rooftop in Tokyo's industrial sector.
In the center of the frame, a pack of "Enhanced Trigger" dogs—beasts the size of small cars with bone-spurs tearing through their hides—snarled and circled a lone figure in the rain.
The figure was small, draped in a tattered, dark hoodie.
WHOOSH.
A blast of blue fire erupted from the figure's palms.
It wasn't like the fire Shoto saw every day in the training hall. It wasn't a jagged, flickering orange flame that struggled to stay alive.
It was a roar of absolute, terrifying blue. It was a pillar of heat so steady and pure it looked like a solid object.
The figure moved with a heavy, brutal intent.
He didn't shout a special move. He didn't care for the cameras who filmed him.
SWIISH. BANG.
The figure stepped into the pack and incinerated the monsters in a single, sweeping arc of sapphire heat, leaving nothing but drifting ash to be washed away by the rain.
He didn't stay to check for survivors. He simply turned and vanished into the darkness of the alley.
THUMP.
Shoto's heart hammered against his ribs. He reached out, his small, trembling fingers tracing the trail of blue fire on the screen.
"Impossible!"
He remembered that color. But this fire was different. It didn't feel like a curse.
"It didn't burn to hurt," Shoto whispered, his voice cracking in the cold room. "It burned to clean."
The video was titled: "The Blue Flame."
_-_-_-_-_
Location: Industrial Sector – Abandoned Warehouse Hideout
Date: Wednesday | 10:15 PM
DRIP. DROP. DRIP.
Rainwater leaked through the rusted corrugated roof, hitting a plastic bucket with a rhythmic, hollow sound.
Touya sat on a wooden crate, the light from a stolen burner phone illuminating his face.
He looked at his hands. For the first time in nearly a decade, they didn't look like rotting meat.
The skin Hero X had "mended" six weeks ago remained firm, the deep, charred purple scars no longer weeping or inflamed.
The agony that had been his constant companion—the screaming heat in his marrow—is gone.
The last month and a half had been a blur of survival and discovery.
When he had first woken up in that alley, his body finally feeling at peace, he had become untraceable.
Touya had spent the first week scavenging for clothes that didn't smell like a grave, stealing a dark hoodie and heavy boots from a laundromat.
He had moved through the city like a shadow, his mind reeling from the world he had returned to.
Touya had been "underground" for years, clinging to life in a coma or hiding in the filth while All For One's doctors treated him like a failed experiment.
He had missed the emergence of Hero X. He had missed the "Snap" heard 'round the world.
Touya had spent hours in internet cafes, hidden behind a hood, scrolling through news archives with wide, disbelieving eyes.
He saw the Musutafu, the Tower, and the Ota Ward footage. He saw the man who had snapped the problems he encountered and even All Might's momentum with a flick of his fingers.
CREAK.
Touya leaned back, the wooden crate groaning under his weight.
He had spent the last few weeks testing his "new" body.
He had hunted the thugs who used Trigger to turn commit crimes, testing the blue flames that no longer ate his own flesh.
Touya had discovered that he could push the heat further than ever before, his body finally acknowledging the cooling blood he had inherited from his mother.
He wasn't a hero. He didn't care about saving the city.
He still wanted to see his father's legacy crumble into ash.
Touya still spent his nights staring at the hospital where his mother was hidden, his heart a knot of ice and rage.
But there was a debt he couldn't ignore.
He looked at a small, printed photo he had cut from a newspaper—a blurry shot of Hero X standing in the center of the Ota Ward ruins.
"Live on," Touya muttered, the words a dry rasp in the quiet warehouse.
He remembered the man's voice in that alley. It hadn't been a hero's speech, it had been a command.
"I'm still here," Touya whispered, his turquoise eyes glowing with a steady, sapphire light.
He wasn't a hero, and he wasn't his father's 'Masterpiece' anymore. He was a ghost with a debt.
WHOOSH.
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Europe – Gollini Family Estate
Date: Thursday | 09:00 PM
CLINK.
The heavy crystal tumbler hit the mahogany desk with a sharp, expensive sound.
Inside, the amber liquid caught the dim light of the fireplace, swirling slowly.
Valdo Gollini sat in a high-backed leather chair that felt more like a throne than office furniture.
He was dressed in a grey silk robe, his eyes fixed on the massive holographic display that dominated the far wall.
On the screen, the Ota Ward footage played in a silent, agonizing loop.
It was the moment of the "Snap." Valdo watched as the white-suited figure stood between the two most powerful beings in Japan and simply forced the world to stop.
TICK... TICK... TICK...
A grandfather clock in the corner marked the passing seconds, but Valdo's attention was elsewhere.
He reached out with a gloved hand, picking up a heavy paperweight made of solid lead.
GLOW.
A faint, golden light hummed between his fingers.
His Quirk—Alchemy—vibrated through the metal.
In a heartbeat, the grey, dull lead didn't just change color; its very atomic structure shifted and reconfigured under his will.
When the light faded, a block of twenty-four-karat gold sat in his palm.
Valdo didn't look pleased. He looked bored. He tossed the gold onto the desk like it was a common stone.
THUD.
"The power to change one thing into another... it is a parlor trick compared to what I am seeing here," Valdo murmured. His voice was a smooth, cold with Sicilian authority.
BEEP.
A secondary monitor pulsed with a high-priority notification.
It was an encrypted message routed through three different black-market brokers in Singapore.
League of Villains.
Valdo leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he skimmed the text.
It was an invitation to join the "Vanguard Project." A promise of shared resources, global infrastructure, and a seat at the table.
SWIPE.
With a single, dismissive flick of his wrist, Valdo sent the message into the digital incinerator.
"You play in the dirt with children and biological monsters, All For One," Valdo said to the empty room. "You are a relic of a loud, messy century. You want to rule through chaos. You don't understand that the world is no longer looking for a king. It is looking for a Standard."
He turned his gaze back to the frozen image of Hero X.
To Valdo, Hero X wasn't a hero, and he certainly wasn't a vigilante.
"You saved a country, and then you vanished," Valdo whispered, his fingers tracing the white silhouette on the hologram. "You left the work unfinished. You gave them a taste of purity and then retreated into the shadows."
CRACKLE.
A log in the fireplace collapsed, sending a flurry of sparks up the chimney.
Valdo stood up, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the rain-swept Italian coast.
In the last month and a half, he had moved with a terrifying, quiet speed. He hadn't built a gang; he had begun the systematic consolidation of every major European family.
He didn't use threats or bombs. He used Alchemy.
Valdo fixed their broken systems, turned their failing assets into gold, and demanded absolute, silent loyalty in return.
He was rebuilding the underworld into a mirror of what he saw on that screen.
Valdo looked at his hands again. He didn't want the chaos AFO offered. He wanted the "God-like Authority" he had seen in Ota Ward.
He wanted to be the man who decided what was gold and what was lead.
"I will be the Hero X of the West," Valdo vowed. "I will finish what you started. I will cleanse this continent of the loud and the weak."
FWOOMP.
Valdo transformed into Hero X appearance but having bushier eyebrows, straighter and thicker slick black hair and a tanner complexion.
Instead of wearing white suit and golden glasses. It was changed to pure black suit and black glasses.
"One world. Two gods," Valdo whispered. "And I will not be the one who bows."
_-_-_-_-_
Location: Shizuoka Prefecture – The Harbor
Date: Sunday | 05:00 PM
SPLASH. SLAP. SLAP.
The dark, heavy water of the Pacific slammed against the rusted wooden piers of the harbor
Kaito Arisaka stood at the very edge of the concrete pier, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his dark utility jacket.
His contract with the Wild, Wild Pussycats had only a week and a half left.
The mountain was no longer a place of chaos; the Hub was humming, the "Handrails" were set, and the Pussycats were moving like a single, unified organism.
His work in the high altitudes was effectively complete.
CHUG-CHUG-CHUG. FWOOOOOSH.
The low, powerful rumble of a high-displacement marine engine began to vibrate through the concrete beneath Kaito's boots.
A massive silhouette emerged from the thickening coastal fog—a heavy-duty, reinforced rescue vessel painted in high-visibility white and blue.
This was the Oki Mariner, the flagship of the most respected sea-rescue agency in Japan.
The ship pulled alongside the pier with practiced precision, its thrusters kicking up a massive spray of white foam as it fought the incoming tide.
CLANG.
The heavy steel gangplank hit the dock with a bone-jarring thud.
A figure stepped off the ship, and even Kaito had to tilt his head back to take in the man's sheer scale.
This was the Maritime Hero: Selkie.
He was a mountain of a man, his build reflecting the raw power of the Spotted Seal Quirk.
He had thick, muscular arms, a broad chest covered by a heavy blue captain's coat, and the distinct, whiskered snout of a sea predator.
His hands were large and webbed, designed for pulling drowning people out of the crushing depths of the Pacific.
Selkie walked down the gangplank, his boots leaving damp, heavy imprints on the concrete.
He didn't look like the "celebrity" heroes Kaito had met in Tokyo. He looked like a man who had spent thirty years fighting the tide and winning.
"Arisaka-san," Selkie said.
He didn't offer a corporate handshake. He stood there, his eyes—dark and intelligent—measuring Kaito with the same intensity he used to judge a coming storm.
"Captain," Kaito replied, his voice flat and unhurried.
Selkie walked to the edge of the pier, standing beside Kaito.
He pulled a rolled-up map from the inner pocket of his coat. The paper was yellowed, stiff with dried salt, and stained with the dampness of the bridge.
SHHHHHP.
He unrolled it against a rusted shipping crate, pinning it down with his heavy, webbed fingers.
It was a topographical chart of the Shizuoka coastline, but it was covered in messy, red-inked circles and frantic notes.
"I've seen the logs from Nagano," Selkie said, nodding toward the mountains that loomed in the distant north. "The Pussycats have a 'Standard' that the rest of the country is trying to copy. But the Pacific..."
Selkie looked out at the water, his whiskers twitching in the salt spray.
"The Pacific is a graveyard. My crew on the Oki Mariner are the best in the world, Arisaka. They're brave, and they're strong. But they're drowning in the dark. The sea isn't like your mountain. It doesn't stay still. The tide changes the depth every hour. The currents shift the location of a wreck by miles in a matter of minutes. It's a nightmare of moving parts."
Selkie turned to Kaito, his expression shifting from a captain's pride to a father's concern.
"We're losing people because our search patterns can't keep up with the water. We find the wreckage, but we're too late for the lifeboats. We need the man who tamed the peaks to help us find the boys we leave behind in the deep. We need a 'Hub' for the waves."
Kaito looked at the map, his mind already filtering through the variables Selkie had mentioned. Tide_velocity, current_drag, thermal_layers.
"The tide is just another variable, Captain," Kaito said, his voice grounded and certain.
"It's heavier than the wind, and it's colder than the shale, but it still follows a rhythm. If you can't find the lifeboats, it's because you're looking at where they were, not where the water was forced to take them."
Selkie let out a slow, rumbling breath. He suddenly scrunched his face into an exaggeratedly cute, seal-like expression, tilting his head with a little
"Kyunn!" sound.
It was a jarring, bizarre habit that usually made people back away in confusion.
Kaito didn't blink. He didn't even react. He just waited for the man to finish.
Selkie's face snapped back into its original, stern captain's mask. He looked impressed.
"You didn't flinch. Good. Most city managers think I'm a clown until I'm pulling them out of a riptide."
"I'm not interested in your face, Captain. I'm interested in your logs," Kaito said.
Selkie gave a slow, respectful nod, his eyes fixed on the Golden Manager. "We'll be ready for you, Arisaka if you join us as your next contract. Seal-riously ready."
"...."
Kaito winced at the pun, the first crack in his professional armor.
He turned and began walking back toward his car, the sound of the Pacific roaring behind him.
_-_-_-_-_
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