The rooftop air was crisp, carrying the distant hum of Tokyo's pre-festival buzz, laughter, music, the occasional firework test-shot spiralling into the dusk. Compress leaned against the brick ledge, rolling a marble between his fingers, its glass surface catching the neon glow of the city below.
Opposite him, Cipher exhaled a slow stream of smoke from his cigarette, the ember flaring briefly in the dim light. The man's face was half-hidden under a scarf, but the crinkle at the corners of his eyes betrayed amusement.
"You're grinning," Cipher observed. "Either you've finally mastered that vanishing act you've been babbling about, or our little experiment bore fruit."
Compress chuckled, the sound rich and velvety, like a performer savouring his audience's anticipation. "Oh, it bore fruit. Rotten, writhing, delicious fruit." He flicked the marble into the air, where it vanished with a snap of compressed space. "You recall that sample you slipped me last week? The one you were so coy about?"
Cipher's smirk deepened. "Vaguely."
"Well, allow me to enlighten you." Compress straightened, adjusting his gloves with theatrical precision. "I found a test subject, some poor drunkard passed out in an alley near Shinjuku. Hardly a challenge, but efficiency over artistry, hm?" He sighed, as if lamenting the lack of flair in his methods. "Administered a diluted dose. Just a drop in his cheap sake bottle."
He paused, tilting his head as if listening to the memory.
"Ten minutes. That's all it took."
Cipher exhaled another lazy plume of smoke. "And?"
"And then," Compress continued, voice dropping into a storyteller's cadence. "his nervous system decided it had quite enough of coherence. First, the tremors, fine, almost imperceptible. Then the pupils dilated to the point of swallowing the iris whole. After that?" A chuckle. "The man began clawing at his own arms like they were infested. Not scratching. Clawing. Blood under his nails by the second minute."
He mimed the motion, fingers curling like talons.
"Fascinating really. The drug doesn't just induce panic, it unspools the higher brain functions. Like stripping away insulation from a live wire. Fear becomes the only language left. Then, as the synapses fry, rage takes over. Primal, gnashing, animal rage."
Cipher's cigarette paused halfway to his lips. "Gnashing?"
"Oh yes," Compress's grin widened. "He bit through his own tongue. Not intentionally, mind you. Just... chewed. Like his jaw had forgotten it was attached to a thinking creature. Then he turned on a dumpster. Started slamming his head into it. By the time I left, he was trying to eat the brick wall."
A beat. The wind carried the scent of street food from below, sweet, greasy, incongruously cheerful.
Cipher exhaled. "Hm. Faster than I expected."
"You sound almost proud." Compress mused. "Which begs the question, where did you procure such a delightfully vicious compound? Not one of Garaki's. We obviously would have known that by now."
Cipher's smirk didn't waiver. He took a long drag, the ember flaring like a warning beacon. "You know me, Compress. A man of many masks. Some secrets are stitched too deep to unpick."
Compress laughed, a full, rolling sound that bounced off the rooftop. "Ah, fair enough! A magician never reveals his tricks, and a chemist? Well. I suppose some poisons are best left unlabeled." He leaned back against the ledge, gazing at the skyline. "Still, I must admit... I'm impressed. The League had come far. Faster than I ever anticipated. If I'd known it would be this smooth, I might've tried building my own little empire years ago."
Cipher snorted. "You? A kingpin? Please. You'd have gotten bored within a week."
"True," Compress conceded, waving a hand. "Too much management and not enough flair."
The League didn't get here because of smoothness," Cipher said, flicking ash over the ledge. "It got here because Shigaraki stopped being a brat with a grudge and started being a blade. If he'd stayed the same screeching child we'd still be squatting in that damn bar, picking fights with sidekicks."
Compress hummed. "A fair point. Our dear leader has grown into his role rather spectacularly." He raised an imaginary glass. "To progress then. And I hear you're already causing chaos in the police ranks."
Cipher inclined his head. "It's not hard to motivate people in a run down society. Keep pressuring their weak-points and then hand them a solution."
A comfortable silence settled between them, the kind that only exists between people who have long since stopped pretending to be anything but predators. Below, the city glittered, oblivious.
Compress sighed, content. "Dabi and Miyu should be in Kyoto now. The lantern ceremony will be there this year since it was in Tokyo last year."
Cipher stubbed out his cigarette. "Good. Let them burn their symbols. We'll handle the rest."
"Indeed." Compress pushed off the ledge, straightening his coat with a flourish. "Shall we? We need to continue moving forward until our grand performance later. And I do so hate to miss my cue."
Cipher's chuckle was low, dark. "After you."
***
He didn't answer the phone.
Sir Nighteye remembers how he felt when the dial buzzed in his ear, sharp and mocking, before dissolving into silence. All Might didn't answer.
The cold air bit at his exposed skin, the last stubborn rays of sunlight bleeding orange across the Tokyo skyline, but he barely felt it.
All Might had the same number. He knew that. He memorized it years ago, back when they still stood side-by-side, back when the man would answer on the first ring with that booming, effortless confidence.
Now, there was nothing.
Nighteye exhaled, his breath fogging in the frigid air. The sun was sinking, but the chill had already settled deep into his bones.
Of course he didn't answer.
It shouldn't have stung. Nighteye was the one who turned his back on him. Distancing himself, cutting ties, refusing to watch the inevitable unfold. But now, with the future he had seen, All For One's horrid laughter, the bloody sky, the victory in his posture, he had tried. And All Might hadn't even bothered to pick up.
He told Nezu, but the principal of UA just said that he would pass on the message but not to hope for much.
Centipeder was beside him, his mandibles clicked softly with every step he took. He didn't speak, honestly, Sir Nighteye didn't want him hear. He wanted him in Kyoto with his other sidekicks while he dealt with everything in Tokyo along with the other heroes.
Although Nighteye still mainly wanted to go after Soryu.
The wind picked up, slicing through the narrow alley they stood in, carrying with it the distant hum of festival preparations, laughter, music, the occasional shout of vendors packing up for the evening. The city was alive with anticipation, blissfully unaware of what was coming.
Nighteye adjusted his glasses, the frames cold against his temples.
"Hawks disbanded the task force." he said flatly.
Centipeder's antennae twitched. "I heard."
"And to make it worse. He's been working with Soryu." The name sounded bitter. "For a month."
Centipeder exhaled through his nose. "I heard Sir."
Nighteye's jaw tightened. Of course he knew. Centipeder always knew. The man was as reliable as the sunrise, which was why Nighteye had told him to stay behind. But he had followed.
"They think I've lost it," Nighteye murmured, more to himself than to his companion. "That my visions are unreliable. That I'm just a paranoid old man screaming into the wind."
Centipeder didn't deny it. He didn't need to.
Hawks had made his stance clear, "We've got it handled Nighteye. Soryu's been feeding us intel. and it's pretty damn useful."
As if intel could compare to the raw, unfiltered certainty of Nighteye's Foresight.
Nighteye clenched his fists, his gloves creaking.
"All For One!" he said suddenly.
Centipeder tilted his head. "Sir?"
"Long ago, after the great battle between those two, Nezu confirmed that All For One had collected a quirk that makes him resistant to precognition. Nearly immune." Nighteye's voice was low, analytical, but beneath it simmered something darker. "So why did I see him so clearly?"
Centipeder was silent for a long moment. Then, carefully: "Maybe he wanted you to."
Nighteye stilled.
That... was a possibility he hadn't considered.
All For One was a great tormentor. A puppeteer. He knows Nighteye's quirk, if he knew what he would see...
"A distraction," Nighteye muttered. "Or a trap."
Centipeder nodded once. "Or both."
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the pavement. The temperature was dropping rapidly now, the kind of cold that seeped through layers and settled in the marrow. Nighteye barely noticed.
"Ryukyu and Gang Orca are waiting." Centipeder said after a moment. "We should go."
Nighteye didn't move immediately. His mind was still churning, turning over the vision like a puzzle with missing pieces. All For One's laughter. The blood. The victory...
Why show him that?
What was he missing?
"Sir?" Centipeder pressed gently.
Nighteye exhaled sharply through his nose and straightened. "Right."
They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing in the empty alley. The festivals glow grew brighter as they neared the main streets, the air thick with the scent of fried food and sugar. Children laughed, couples held hands, heroes and even hero students mingled with the crowd, utterly oblivious.
It made Nighteye's skin crawl.
Ryukyu and Gang Orca were waiting near the base of Tokyo Tower, their expressions grim even as they exchanged pleasantries with passing civilians. Ryukyu's scales gleamed faintly under the fading light, her posture rigid with tension. Gang Orca loomed beside her, his massive arms crossed, his usual intimidating presence dialed up to eleven.
They spotted Nighteye immediately.
"You're late," Ryukyu said, though there was no real heat in her tone.
"Apologies." Nighteye replied, tone clipped. "We had... complications."
Gang Orca grunted. "Join the club."
Ryukyu shot him a look before turning back to Nighteye. "We've divided the high-risk zones. Gang Orca will handle the Sumida River embankment with his squad. I'll be patrolling the plaza, keeping an eye on the beacon. You..."
"I'll be at the tower." Nighteye interrupted.
Ryukyu paused. "All Might's already stationed there."
"I'm aware."
A beat of silence. Gang Orca's beady eyes flickered between them.
"Look," Ryukyu said, lowering her voice. "I get it. You two have history. But tonight isn't about that. It's about keeping people safe."
Nighteye's fingers twitched. "I know what tonight is about."
"Then act like it."
The words hung in the air, sharp as a blade.
Centipeder shifted uncomfortably. Gang Orca cleared his throat.
"We're on the same side," Ryukyu said finally, "Whatever happens we can't afford to be divided."
Nighteye said nothing.
The sun was nearly gone now, the sky a bruised purple. The first lanterns were being lit, their glow flickering to life like distant stars.
"Lets get to work."
The light was fading.
***
The golden hour painted Tokyo in warm hues as Ochacko Uraraka walked alongside Izuku Midoriya through the bustling festival streets. Their hero costumes lay hidden beneath civilian clothes, a hoodie for her, a loose jacket for him.
Ochacko bumped her shoulder against Izuku's, grinning. "You ever been to Hero's Eve before?"
She didn't know why she asked such an obvious question, everyone had been to a Hero's Eve, it was tradition. One that everyone enjoyed, sure there were a few groups of people that wanted to avoid the whole thing, but most people her age really enjoyed the atmosphere of it all.
Izuku blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit she'd come to recognize. "Uh, well... the first time I remember was with Kac- Bakugou."
The name landed in a stutter of the old nickname she had learned that he used to call him when they were younger. It landed like cold still water. Ochacko's smile faltered, just for a second, before she forced it back into place. But the sour taste lingered in her mouth.
Bakugou.
She'd never understood it. How someone like Izuku, kind, brilliant, good, could ever have been tormented by someone like him. She doesn't think she will ever understand it. She'd seen the harsh looks and heard the silly nicknames that the boy had given him early on at UA, the sneers and the way he acted like Izuku's existence was an insult.
And then he got kidnapped. Bakugou had come back different. Quieter. More haunted. Darker eyes. She'd felt a pang of sympathy of course. She doesn't even know what happened to him but considering he was left with the League of Villains for an extended period of time she could only assume.
But that didn't change what he'd done.
He was a bully.
Her fingers curled into loose fists at her side.
Especially after what happened with Kirishima.
An accident, they'd said. A PTSD episode, they'd whispered. But Ochacko had seen the way Kirishima had flown back, the way Bakugou's face had gone blank with horror. And all she could think was... how many times did Izuku get hit like that?
She wanted to ask. She wanted to know. To pull the words out of him, to let him spill every awful memory so she could carry some of that weight for him. But the moment never came. Izuku didn't talk about it. He didn't even know that she knew what she knew.
She just swallowed the bitterness and focused on the present.
"My parents took me once when I was little," she said, steering the conversation away from him. "We couldn't afford much, but we got these light-up bracelets from a vendor, and I wore mine until the battery died. Like, weeks after." She laughed, shaking her head. "Drove my mom crazy."
Izuku's eyes lit up. "That's, that's actually really similar to what Bakugou and I did! We got these little hero figurines from a stall, and I kept mine in my pocket until the paint rubbed off. His, uh... his broke the same day." He chuckled awkwardly. "He threw it at a wall because he thought it wasn't cool enough. It was the hero 'Dress-up'."
Ochacko's chest tightened.
She opened her mouth, to say what? she wasn't sure, but Izuku was already moving ahead, his gaze sweeping over the crowd with quiet intensity. They had a job to do. Keep the best path's of exits as clear as possible. Not vulnerable groups. Memorize the faces of their charges, the ones they'd need to protect when the attack came.
She fell into step beside him, matching his focus.
"You ever think about how weird this all is?" Izuku murmured after a while, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
"What part? The fact that we're basically walking around in disguise, or the fact that we're waiting for the world to explode?"
"Both, I guess." He let out a shaky breath. "My heart hasn't stopped pounding. Half of me is terrified, and the other half..." He trailed off, then huffed a laugh. "The other half keeps thinking this is all just a bad dream. That the attack isn't actually coming. That I'm just..." his voice softened. "That I'm just a kid again, watching the lanterns and waiting for my turn to blow mine up into the air."
Ochako's throat burned.
She knew what he meant. The wanting. The desperate, clawing hope that had driven both of them to UA, to this life. But where Izuku had been pushed down, she'd been lifted up, by her parents who scraped together every last Yen they had to send her to UA, her teachers who believed in her, by friends who never made her feel small.
And he had been alone.
She turned to him, ready to say something. That he wasn't that defenseless kid anymore. That he was here, he was strong, and no one would ever make him feel like that again.
But then Izuku smiled, small and genuine. "The fear's just in case it is all a dream. Because if it is... then right now, I'm just here. At Hero's Eve. With a friend." His eyes met hers, warm and grateful. "A really close one."
Something in Ochacko's chest cracked open.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she reached up and tapped him lightly on the head, her fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.
"Dummy." She muttered, her voice thick. "Of course you're not alone."
Izuku blinked, startled, then ducked his head, his ears turning pink.
Ochacko swallowed hard, then squared her shoulders. "C'mon. Lets keep moving forward."
And together they did.