Daily Meme Here
This is the second chapter of the day.
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The next couple of days went by without major problems. Patrols, reports, training, simulation drills—same cycle, different day. I still wasn't allowed to hit a single villain, which was torture.
Ryukyu made me handle most of the paperwork, probably as punishment for existing. Mirko made sure I never got comfortable, throwing random tests my way just to see if I was paying attention. "Kid, if you let your guard down in a fight, you're dead," she kept saying. "So figure it out."
Figuring it out mostly meant dodging her kicks and trying not to get concussed.
Meanwhile, I planted hints.
Not obvious ones. Just enough to push things in the right direction. When something big went down, I wanted to be moving before anyone could stop me.
People reading was a useful excuse. Mirko didn't care as long as I could back it up, and Ryukyu was too analytical to ignore patterns. The tension in the city, the shift in hero patrols, the way certain names kept showing up in reports—things were lining up. I didn't need a prophecy to know Hosu was about to turn into a warzone.
Hero Killer was active. Iida picked some no-name agency in the same city. If he wasn't already out for blood, he would be soon.
I was planning to go full assault once I found the Hero Killer. I wasn't waiting for Iida. If I found him first, I would end this before he did something stupid.
Even if I couldn't act first, I would at least make sure Mirko and Ryukyu were there when shit hit the fan. If I played my cards right, they would be the ones pulling me into the fight instead of keeping me out of it.
The night before things kicked off, Mirko threw me into another drill. She called it "stress testing." I called it "Mirko gets to beat the shit out of me while Ryukyu takes notes."
"You still thinking too much," Mirko said, cracking her knuckles. "Gotta stop waiting for the perfect move and just go."
I dodged her next hit by an inch. "You say that, but the moment I make a wrong move, you put me on my ass."
"Yeah," she grinned. "That's the lesson."
I tried to counter with a swing of my bat. She caught it mid-air and yanked, nearly taking my shoulder with it. I let go before she could throw me.
She tossed the bat aside. "Use your fists."
I exhaled. "Alright."
The next ten minutes were just me trying not to get thrown like a ragdoll. I landed a couple of hits, but she was built different.
When Ryukyu called time, I was still standing.
Barely.
Mirko slapped my back. "Not bad. You almost didn't suck today."
"Thanks, coach."
Ryukyu glanced at her watch. "That's enough for now. We'll debrief in the morning."
Mirko smirked. "Unless you wanna go another round, kid."
I rolled my shoulder. "I would love to, but I'm already thinking of a good excuse to skip tomorrow's paperwork."
Ryukyu sighed. "You're not skipping."
"Tch."
I left the training room, heading back to my room. Before I crashed for the night, I checked my phone.
Hosu was making the news again. Another hero attack. Another vague report.
Tomorrow. It is happening tomorrow.
I closed the app and set my alarm.
Time to move.
Next afternoon, I sent texts to Iida and Izuku separately.
To Iida: "Hey, I heard Hero Killer appeared on the west side of the city. Tell your agency to steer clear from there."
Sent another to Izuku: "My foolish brother. Hero Killer's been spotted west of Hosu, and I'm afraid Iida might go after him. Are you close to that location?"
That would keep both of them away from the center, where shit was about to go sideways.
I pocketed my phone and leaned against the railing of the rooftop Mirko had dragged me to. She stood beside me, stretching her arms. "Something on your mind, kid?"
"Yeah," I said. "The fact that you're making me babysit an empty rooftop while you get to punch things."
She grinned. "What, not a fan of surveillance?"
"Not a fan of standing still."
"Too bad. Get used to it." She cracked her knuckles. "We're waiting for Ryukyu's word. Once she gives the green light, we move."
I sighed. "And how long is that gonna take?"
Before she could answer, my phone vibrated.
Izuku: I'm not far. Are you sure about Iida?
I typed back: Pretty damn sure. If you see him, stall him.
Iida still hadn't replied.
I clicked my tongue. "Something's up."
Mirko raised an eyebrow. "That so?"
"Yeah. Just a hunch." I pushed off the railing. "You mind if I—"
She caught my collar before I could take a step. "Nope."
I sighed. "Figured."
A moment later, Ryukyu's voice crackled through the earpiece. "We have multiple reports of criminal activity in the area. Standby until further notice."
Mirko groaned. "Ugh, waiting again."
I smirked. "Bet you regret dragging me into this now."
"Not yet. Give me a few more minutes."
The city below looked normal, but I could feel the shift. People moving faster, sirens in the distance.
Explosions echoed across the city. Distant sirens cut through the noise.
Mirko side-eyed me. "You stay here."
We both knew that was not happening.
She clicked her tongue, already moving. "If Ryukyu asks, I told you to stay put."
I grinned. "Sure."
She jumped off the rooftop, vanishing into the streets below.
I was already running.
Patrolling meant knowing the layout. I had been walking these streets for days. My feet carried me through the alleys, cutting through back roads while the chaos unfolded ahead. Shouting. Metal clashing. Something getting wrecked. A fight, close.
I sprinted toward the sound, skidding to a stop at an alleyway opening. A broken streetlight flickered overhead, barely lighting the scene. Two heroes on the ground, barely moving. A man stood over them, sword raised.
[ANALYZE.]
[NAME: CHIZOME AKAGURO]
[ALIAS: HERO KILLER STAIN]
[STATS: Strength: 180
Agility: 220
Intelligence: 150
Charisma: 120
Luck: 11]
[QUIRK: BLOODCURDLE – PARALYZES TARGETS BASED ON BLOOD TYPE BY LICKING. DURATION VARIES.]
[NOTES: THINKS HERO SOCIETY IS CORRUPT AND HUNTS NON-REAL HEROES. HIGHLY EXPERIENCED IN COMBAT. FAST. UNSTABLE. VERY LIKELY TO TRY AND KILL YOU.]
Stain turned slightly, like he sensed something. His head tilted. "More interference?"
I stepped forward, bat resting on my shoulder. "Man, you really got a theme going, huh?"
He did not answer. The streetlight buzzed, shadows stretching as he shifted his stance. The heroes on the ground struggled weakly, frozen.
I took another step. "You got some kinda ranking system? Like, how hero-y does someone have to be before you gut 'em?"
He watched me. The sword barely moved. "You are not a hero are you?"
I smirked. "Guess that means I am not worth killing, right?"
He exhaled through his nose. "Depends. Why are you here?"
I tilted my head. "That's a real philosophical question. Why are any of us here?"
His grip tightened. "Answer."
I spun the bat once. "What, you gonna paralyze me? Take a wild guess about my blood type?"
The side of his mouth twitched. Not a smile. Something else.
Stain's grip on his sword didn't shift, but his eyes locked onto me with something that wasn't curiosity—it was recognition. "How do you know my Quirk?" His voice was flat, but there was an edge to it. "Wait. I remember you from the Sports Festival."
Oh? He watched that? What a fan.
I spun my bat in my hands. "Yeah? What did you think?"
"I thought you were everything a hero shouldn't be. A fraud, a mockery of what this society already fails to uphold."
I exhaled through my nose. "Cool, so you're not a fan."
"You're a clown playing hero," he continued. "Your presence here means nothing."
"Yet here I am, and you're talking. So I must be doing something right."
He exhaled, slow and controlled, before shifting his stance. "You're in my way. Move."
I grinned. "Make me."
He vanished.
I barely twisted in time as his sword came down, missing my neck by inches. My bat came up, colliding against his blade with a sharp clang, the force rattling through my arms. Even with Limit Breaker keeping me three times stronger, he was fast.
He pressed forward, testing my guard with quick slashes. I weaved between them, using Quickstep to reposition, but he was relentless. The streetlight above flickered, shadows stretching, his movements flickering in and out of view.
His blade nicked my sleeve. I twisted, dropping low, and swung for his ribs. He stepped back just enough to avoid the full impact, but my bat still grazed him.
"Tch." He clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing. "Stronger than I expected."
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
He lunged again. This time, I didn't retreat.
I rushed forward, throwing my weight into the swing. The bat met his sword, but instead of forcing another clash, I twisted it, redirecting his momentum. His blade skidded off course, and I drove a knee up toward his gut. He twisted away, but I kept up, pushing into his space, keeping him off balance.
Dirty Fighting wasn't just about low blows. It was about pressure. About never giving someone a chance to reset. And Stain? He was a duelist, a precision killer. I wasn't letting him breathe.
I went for a feint—bat aimed for his side before switching mid-swing to go for his leg. He caught it, but just barely. His stance shifted.
He vanished again, reappearing above me, sword coming down in a brutal arc. Adrenaline Rush kicked in. Time stretched just enough. I jerked sideways, twisting my bat up to catch the blade mid-swing. Sparks flew as steel scraped metal, the impact sending me sliding back across the pavement.
My arms ached. Even with Pain Resistance, the force behind his swings was insane.
He dashed forward before I could fully recover. I barely ducked, his blade slicing through the air where my head had been a second ago. Endless Momentum kicked in. My movements sped up, dodging getting easier the longer I kept moving.
But he wasn't slowing down either.
He feinted left, but I wasn't falling for that. I used Quickstep to reposition behind him and swung full force for his back.
He twisted at the last second. My bat still connected, slamming into his ribs, but he turned the momentum into a counter, slashing low. I jumped back, but not fast enough. The tip of his blade cut across my leg—not deep, but enough to sting.
My foot hit the pavement. No numbness. He didn't get blood.
"Close," I said. "Almost had me."
He didn't reply. Just exhaled, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Nice. Combat Intuition kicking in.
"You move well," he said. "But your convictions are empty. You fight like a brute."
"Yeah? And you're a dude running around licking knives. We all got our quirks."
His grip on his sword tightened. "You joke because you stand for nothing."
I rolled my shoulder. "Or maybe I joke because you're taking yourself too seriously."
His expression didn't change. Then he rushed me again.
But this time, I was ready.
I met him head-on, but instead of blocking, I redirected. My bat caught his sword mid-swing, twisting it just enough to throw off his balance. He adjusted fast, but I was already moving in, slamming my elbow toward his face. He dodged, but my knee followed, catching his side.
He staggered. Just slightly.
I pushed the advantage, dropping low and sweeping his legs. He jumped, but that was bait. My bat was already swinging mid-air, aiming for his ribs.
He twisted, bringing his blade up to block— but that was bait too.
I faked the swing, switched grip, and slammed the bat into his knee instead.
His leg buckled. Not much. But enough.
He hit the ground in a crouch, eyes flashing with something between irritation and sheer hatred.
I grinned. "That enough conviction for you?"
He exhaled. Then pushed off the ground, launching himself forward. His sword gleamed under the flickering light.
Round two.
"Man, you are a pain in the ass. No wonder nobody takes you seriously. You're like a budget-ass Sasuke with a blood fetish."
Stain didn't react, but his grip on the sword twitched. Rage Bait working its magic.
I grinned. "Oh? Did I hit a nerve? Let me guess—you practiced your little speeches in the mirror, didn't you? Trying to sound all deep while looking like a back-alley sewer rat? Fucking embarrassing."
He moved fast. Blade flashing. I parried with the bat, twisting to redirect the force. He adjusted, trying to slash my arm, but I jerked back. Quickstep had me dancing just outside his reach, and the longer I kept moving, the faster I got.
"Come on, man. You got no sauce. No presence. You're out here cosplaying as a samurai, thinking you're changing the world when you're just some edgy hobo with a stabbing problem."
His eye twitched. Oh yeah. He was feeling it.
He lunged, going for a diagonal cut. I blocked high, using the force to spin and bring my bat low toward his knee. He twisted, avoiding the worst of it, but the impact still made him stagger.
I grinned as I looked at him, "Is your name Stain to remind you that you are your father's mistake, a cum stain?"
His eye twitched, grip tightening around his sword.
"You talk a lot for someone who stands for nothing," he growled.
"And you kill a lot for someone who thinks he's a hero's gatekeeper. What, did a pro hero not sign your yearbook or some shit? You got daddy issues that bad?"
He lunged. I sidestepped, bringing my bat down on his wrist. He jerked away, but the hit connected enough to make him wince.
"Look at you, man," I kept going, voice dripping with mockery. "Dressing like a homeless ninja, running around licking blood like a fucking rabid chihuahua. You ain't justice, bro. You're a viral tweet waiting to happen."
His sword flashed. I blocked, twisted, and slammed my bat into his ribs. He grunted, staggering slightly.
"Oh? Did that hurt? Damn, must be hard carrying all that self-righteous bullshit while getting your ass handed to you by a high schooler."
He exhaled sharply. "You think this is a joke?"
"You exist as a joke," I corrected. "Seriously, what are you even trying to do? You think offing a few heroes is gonna fix society? That's like pissing in a swimming pool and calling it purification."
His nostrils flared. His movements were getting sloppier, more aggressive.
He feinted, slashed low, and clipped my leg. I felt the sting, but no numbness. No blood. I stepped in, ramming my shoulder into his chest and sending him skidding back.
"How's that working out for you, Stain? You feeling accomplished yet? Or are you realizing you're just another edgy dipshit with a murder hobby?"
He wiped his mouth, breathing heavier. His eyes flicked over me, calculating. He wasn't gonna let himself be baited much longer.
Time to push him over the edge.
"You know, you keep talking about fake heroes, but last I checked, a real hero doesn't have to paralyze people to win fights. Guess you just suck too much to keep up, huh? Can't match me in speed, can't match me in strength, so you gotta play dirty. Tragic."
He snarled and lunged. I dodged, but he twisted mid-motion, his sword nicking my shoulder. I barely felt it—until my body locked up.
Shit. He got the blood he needed.
"Finally shut you up," he muttered.
I smirked. "Bro, do you even know who I am?"
My body twitched. Then moved.
Endless Momentum had kicked in.
He barely had time to react before I was in his space, moving on sheer force alone. My bat cracked across his jaw. He staggered. I followed with a knee to his gut, a hook to the side, a swing to his ribs.
I wasn't stopping.
Even I couldn't stop myself now. And neither could his quirk.
His eyes widened. He tried to jump back, but I was already on him. Every movement felt automatic, unstoppable. My fists crashed into him, my bat following up in a brutal rhythm. I felt something crack under my hits. Maybe ribs. Maybe his will.
I grinned through the rush. "Oops. Looks like you fucked up."
He gasped, staggering again. Blood dripped from his mouth. His arms twitched, trying to move, but he couldn't keep up.
"What happened, big guy? Thought you were the Hero Killer? All I see is a discount slasher flick extra. You ain't shit, and you never were."
I reared back for one final swing.
He dropped.
Unconscious. Broken. Beaten.
The street was silent except for my heavy breathing. I exhaled, rolling my shoulder as the last of Endless Momentum finally burned out.
"Goddamn," I muttered. "That was fun."
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