Chapter Text
Tonight, on AMG News Evening Live, leading figures in the criminal gang Crimson Jackals have finally been brought to justice. Our reporter, Terra Cotta, is live outside Thurgood Marshall United States Courthouse here in New York. Americans across the East Coast are bracing for what is believed to be the wettest March on record. Roads washed out, sinkholes in many coastal areas and some of the toughest farming conditions for a generation. We look at where the weather will go next. The President tonight assures Americans economic forecasts look good. This is despite a recent fall in the value of the dollar after a decline in US steel exports. Our financial correspondent will have all the details.
From AMG News Headquarters in New York, this is Evening Live with Barry Cade.
“Good evening, America. I’m Barry Cade. We begin tonight first with a very special interview. He’s a hero who’s become a household name across the globe—the one and only All Might. As he prepares to return to his home country of Japan, we have the honour of discussing with him his six years of service in the United States, his relationships with America’s heroes, and what comes next. All Might, thank you so much for joining us.”
“Ahaha! Thank you! It’s always a pleasure! I am here, and I’m absolutely delighted to be to speak with the wonderful people of the United States one more time before I head home.”
“The pleasure is all ours. Let’s get right to it. You have become such a stalwart presence in the American hero community. How do you think your departure will affect the crime landscape here? Should people be worried?”
“Ha ha ha! Not one bit! I have the utmost faith in America’s incredible Pro Heroes. In the six years I’ve walked these streets, I’ve witnessed their courage, ingenuity, and unyielding commitment. With Stars and Stripes stepping up as the new American Number One, I’m more confident than ever that the villains out there will think twice! The symbol of peace might be returning to Japan, but America’s light still shines as bright as ever!”
“You mentioned Stars and Stripes, your former sidekick, who’s debuting as the top hero in the country. But you also spent these past years mentoring a young student from Olympus Mons Hero Academy. Recent reports say you and this student are both heading to Japan. Can you tell us about your relationship with them, and why you’re both going?”
“Ah, yes! It was a stroke of fate, really. I met this young man when he was just 14—a student with a dream as bright as the midday sun! He’d lost his parents in a fire after a villain attack at a very young age and moved from Japan to New York to live with his grandparents. From the moment we met, I saw in him a certain spark, a drive to be a true symbol of peace. He had a courage that couldn’t be ignored. I’d been searching for that special quality in someone, and in him, I found it. So, I took a personal interest in his training and studies, even sponsoring his enrolment at Olympus Mons. Now, as he’s graduated and ready for new challenges, it’s time for both of us to take the next step—together, back in Japan!”
“That’s quite a story. You clearly have a deep connection with your protégé. Some have wondered, though, why you didn’t choose Stars and Stripes to succeed you, given her incredible record and your history as partners. Was there a reason?”
“Ha ha ha! That’s a great question, Barry. The truth is it was always Stars’ decision. She’s an amazing hero—fearless, powerful, and wise. But being a symbol is a heavy mantle, and she always felt that her path was to be the best hero SHE could be, not to stand as a symbol for others. She’s chosen to carve out her own legend, and I couldn’t be prouder! The title of Number One simply reflects what everyone in the hero world already knew. America is in good hands!”
“So, you’re leaving with complete confidence in both the future of the United States and your own journey?”
“Absolutely! I’ll always carry fond memories of my time here—the battles, the friendships, the lessons. But I know that the torch I pass is burning bright in the hands of all America’s heroes. And as for myself… the adventure continues!”
“Well, All Might, thank you so much for your time, your candour, and, of course, the hope you’ve inspired in millions. We wish you all the best in your next chapter.”
“Thank you! And as always… PLUS ULTRA!”
“We go now liv-“
The news report gave way to an unending blackness, only a figure silhouetted in a reflection on the large fifty-five-inch television in front of them by nine other, smaller screens on the wall behind, all playing various international news channels on mute.
The figure lowered their hand, the remote used to turn off what was for them, the previous day’s evening news from the United States, gently thrown onto a plush burnt orange two-seater couch that sat below the cloud of screens.
In the figures other hand, a disposable cup of double shot black americano, still steaming whimsically in delicate small swirls, was brought up to a pair of lips that had formed into a small grin. The lips began to part slightly, a gentle blow of air roiling the surface of the dark, umber liquid before the distance was closed and a single long sip was taken from the cup.
The cup, and by extension the figure holding it moved across the large space to stand by a floor to ceiling window. The glass was pristine, not a mark to be found across its surface. This was good because the view it afforded, frankly, was spectacular.
Night’s velvet cloak had long begun its slow retreat, and from the quiet stillness of an office on the thirty fifth floor, high above Shinjuku ward where the mystery figure now stood, the city was already beginning to stir with the promise of a new day.
The sun, a shy performer so early in the morning, was ascending beyond the far side of the building—its first rays won’t burst directly in through the window, but arrive instead as whispers, refracted and reflected by the immense glass and steel canyons of greater Tokyo.
The sky behind the silhouetted skyscraper gradually shifts from deep indigo to gentle lavender; the edges of clouds blush with the faintest trace of rose. Far below, Shinjuku’s labyrinth of streets glimmer with the remnants of nocturnal lights, soon to be overpowered by daylight. The city, for a moment, seems to hold its breath—still anticipating the sun’s arrival.
Though the sun itself remains hidden from view, its presence is felt in the gilded glow that creeps up the facades of distant towers, turning windows to gold and waking the city’s endless rhythm. Mount Fuji, far in the distance, radiant yet cold. A frosted beacon that awoke with the magic of dawn. Silhouettes of passing trains, barely visible in the morning haze, seem to glide through a world being painted anew with every fleeting moment. The day’s energy gathers, subtle but inexorable.
From the vantage of this window, the sunrise is a spectacle of anticipation—a play of indirect light, of colours unfolding in quiet succession. It is an invitation to the day, seen not in the brilliance of the sun’s face, but in the city’s gradual and graceful awakening. Tokyo, with all its restless ambition, is soon completely bathed in the gentle assertion that morning has come, whether you witness the sun directly or simply feel its promise unfurl through glass, concrete, and sky.
Taking this symphony in, a hand was already reaching into a pocket, pulling out a sleek black smartphone, fingers unlocking the device, an Instagram story taking an image of this beautiful moment, forever capturing this tiny pocket of time.
Sometimes it’s pretty great coming into work this early. When can you get a view like this?
A contented grunt came from the figure, apparently signalling a sound of approval. The story, within moments, already had 70 something likes, the number climbing fast. The phone disappeared back into its pocket, the hand holding it moving back up to run fingers through a shock of spiky blonde hair. The figure that the mess of hair belonged to taking another long swig of coffee, before the cup was placed onto another pristine glass surface. This time, a modern desk with a glass top upon four stainless steel legs.
The desk itself whilst clean was also tidy. A computer screen, keyboard and mouse, a ceramic coaster atop which sat the coffee cup and a small Clivia Miniata, a vibrant orange flower.
The office’s owner wasn’t what you’d call green fingered or even particularly interested in plants. It was kept alive, they assumed, by the nightly cleaning staff.
Turning back to the window, they stretched lazily, arms above their head, an early morning yawn following as they focused from the view to their own reflection. A figure in a tight, black, sleeveless tank top featuring a signature orange ‘X’ across the middle, the top of this creating a V-neck design. The left side of the ‘collar’ was denoted with two black dots, the trademark of the costume's designer, Sasori Nimaru. Going down, a green and orange belt securing black baggy pants with green straps that finish above the knees. On missions or patrols, the belt is equipped with improvised, nonlethal grenades. The feet sport black, knee-high combat boots with orange soles, eight orange eyelets, and straps at the top.
The outfit also includes a metallic neck brace, black detached sleeves that extend from large, grenade-like gauntlets up to the biceps and knee guards. But those, as with the improvised grenades, are only usually worn when not in the office.
All this dressed a tired looking Katsuki Bakugo. Japan’s number fifteen ranked hero. A ranking not to be scoffed at, even if Bakugo would certainly prefer to rank higher. Sadly, his charm and cheery disposition; or lack of, kept him lower in the rankings, based mostly on his public image.
It wasn’t that other heroes were better. No, far from it. When Bakugo first exploded onto the scene as Best Jeanist’s sidekick after graduating U.A High, he had in fact rocketed to the number four spot. He began losing out due to a spread of more approachable heroes encroaching on his place. Bakugo was in fact fast tracking to break Endeavour’s record for the most resolved criminal cases, exceeding the same number the now retired flame hero had at the age Bakugo was now, at just 25.
So, you see, work ethic was certainly not the issue for the young explosion hero. Public image was. A fact that still pisses him off, but that would explain why Bakugo, of all people, had an incredibly strong social media presence.
The idea had been given to him by one of his close friends, a member of the self-named ‘Bakusquad’, Mina Ashido, to make him seem more ‘approachable’ and ‘down to earth’. Down to earth?
‘Yeah right’, Bakugo thought. This coming from a bubble gum pink skinned chick with thin ass little horns, black eyes and yellow pupils who practically spat acid and whose first hero name choice was, Alien Queen. We’re very down to earth here.
But Bakugo couldn’t deny her suggested approach was having results. He never once cared before about a social media presence, or social media in general for that matter. But here he was, an Instagram account, for example, with a current total of more than 6.9million followers, all happily watching as he posted pictures of scenic views, himself at the gym during a workout and last summer, to the insistence of Pinky – Mina herself, the squad enjoying a day at the beach. There wasn’t much that could break cover through his fiery demeanour, but those idiots could. Sure, they pissed him off, often and he was sure on purpose, but they had glued themselves to him since they graduated U.A. High and he could always count on each of them to be there for him. So, he’d decided to reciprocate that loyalty to them. Especially Eijiro Kirishima, Eiji or shitty hair as Bakugo would often call him, depending on which way his mood was swinging.
Seriously though, Eiji was his rock, no pun intended. If Bakugo felt himself being swept away by strong currents, be they emotional or physical, Eiji was someone he could always cling to. Figuratively, certainly not physically. Now don’t get the wrong idea. Bakugo would usually rather die than be seen showing his emotional side and this was often why he gave off a rather prickly persona. But Eiji was the sole individual who he would open up to about the things closest to his heart.
Whoa, deep stuff!
Bakugo finished his stretching at his window and glanced around to the time on his monitor. 07:46. A little over ten minutes since the end of the special evening show from America. He’d heard that All Might was to give a live interview the day before, so wanting to catch it on something bigger than a phone screen – he didn’t watch TV at home, he’d made his way early into the office.
Giving his shoulders and head a role and a small yawn, Bakugo downed the last of his coffee and threw the cup into the trash bin, just beside the office couch. His hand began patting his other pocket, feeling two distinct shapes within. Satisfied, and knowing he still had his phone in his other pocket, he turned to leave his office. Closing the white frosted glass door, bearing the title ‘Dynamight – Hero’, behind him, he glanced to his right to see the end of the hall he was standing in, another floor to ceiling window and began walking down the hall to his left. As expected, still no one around yet.
Directly opposite his was another office, the same size and shape, that belonged to Fumikage Tokoyami, the jet-black hero Tsukuyomi. Katsuki codename: Bird Brain. Bakugo knew that originally, Tokoyami had planned to try for Hawks agency, but that didn’t pan out since Hawks had retired as pro hero after the All For One incident some years back. That had been a shit show. Bakugo had still been a student at U.A. at the time but had been drafted in along with his class to assist with rescue and evacuation efforts.
An incredible number of pro heroes worked together to bring him down, many had died or retired after, for a multitude of reasons. Even Bakugo had found himself in the middle of the fight, alongside the pro hero he first interned with, later side kicked for – and whose agency he worked as a pro within now, Best Jeanist.
Subconsciously, Bakugo’s hand found itself on his chest, just above the scar over his heart. He’d also barely escaped death after Edgeshot, another pro hero, had sacrificed much of his own body to essentially thread his heart back together. Miraculously though, the pro had survived and was recovering at a medical facility overseas, in Switzerland. Bakugo had only begun to talk with the fellow pro around two years ago. Prior to this, Edgeshot had no ability to speak and was barely communicating to the medical staff in charge of his care. But he should eventually make a full recovery. So, when the pro was able, they had kept in touch. Bakugo owed him his life for fucks sake!
He'd passed by two other offices, again facing each other across the hall and again, the same size and shape as his own and Tokoyami’s. This time, the one on his side of the hall was currently empty. Save for the same desk and computer set up Bakugo had in his own office, but this one was essentially a blank slate. An office ready to go for another pro hero in Jeanist’s agency, Genius.
Previously, the Genius agency occupied a much smaller office in Shinjuku ward, roughly a thirty-minute walk from where the current offices were now. But after Japan lost so many heroes defeating All For One and dismantling his criminal empire, there had been a vacuum in the ability to properly cover all territories. Sure, the Demon Lord was now dead and gone, but his legacy had remained for a long time after.
This had coincided with the last time All Might had been to Japan. He’d been in the US for around three years at that point but had come back to Japan along with his sidekick, Stars and Stripes, to fight against All For One. He too had been injured in the fight, like so many others, but had appeared to also make a full recovery. Bakugo wasn’t sure if there were any lasting effects from the fight since All Might, at the time, had returned to the US for his treatment, along with Stars and Stripes. For three further years, that’s where All Might had remained, until now it seemed.
Lastly, the office next to Tokoyami belonged to the third pro hero of Genius, another of the Bakusquad – Denki Kaminari. Sparky, as Bakugo liked to call him, was the stun gun hero Chargebolt.
Bakugo was not a team player. He’d so far refused to take interns, and he certainly wasn’t about to take on a sidekick, simply choosing – when forced to, to work with one of the agency’s ten other permanent employs. He especially disliked being forced to team up on missions with either bird brain or sparky, but he got on with the pair of them, so it was at least tolerable. Truthfully, they did make a surprisingly good team. He supposed that’s why Jeanist extended an offer to work with all of them, something that after All For One, was not as unusual as it sounded. With so many of the country’s top heroes having been forced to retire, receiving life changing injuries and a few who were no longer with them, the options for graduating heroes to learn under had been limited. More than half of Japan’s hero agencies simply didn’t exist anymore. So, with so few options to sidekick before some of those heroes would then start their own agencies, many of the remaining well-established agencies for top pros took on graduates as sidekicks for a short rotation and then extended offers to work within those agencies as pros under contract. In this way, Bakugo and the two idiots had a lot of leeway with cases they could choose and patrols they could undertake, so long as they performed some contractual work with Genius and nothing they did reflected poorly to that agency. Thus, it gave a newer generation of pros a much-needed stepping stone to establish their careers and filled the void from the reduced number of hero agencies readily available across Japan.
The three of them specialized mostly in long distance fighting. Bakugo with his explosive quirk, Kaminari with his electricity and Tokoyami with Dark Shadow. The former and later also having a decent range of close combat skills. Really, the only thing that Bakugo thought could make the team truly unstoppable was a close combat specialist, though he’d NEVER admit that.
The three of them gave Genius agency the latitude to deal with high profile cases involving direct villain combat to compliment the majority of the agencies sidekicks who specialized in complex rescue and evacuation missions. Essentially meaning that Genius was well equipped to deal with any possible threats.
Bakugo reached the end of the hallway. Pushing, this time, through two clear glass doors and entering the floors reception space. A large white, curved desk emblazoned with the words ‘Genius Office’ in a navy blue was what was directly in front of him. Another line of floor to ceiling windows behind allowed large amounts of natural light to spill inside, illuminating two pairs of elevator doors, one either side of the desk, in both corners of the building.
It wouldn’t be until around 8:00 am that Suzi, the personal assistant employed specifically for the heroes of floor thirty-five, would begin her day.
You’d be correct in assuming that Bakugo wasn’t likely the sort of person to deem it worth his time to remember the names of secretaries, PA’s and other ‘extras’ in general. But Suzi was great at her job, and she left Bakugo with considerably less paperwork than he would otherwise end up having. So, she’d proved her worth to him.
Not that she let him forget her name, he thought tetchily. When he first started, she would scowl and rage every time he forgot her name. Barking angrily at him that he’d soon remember to call her by her name if she left him a weeks’ worth of incident post reports to handle. She gave as good as she got but had a bubbly personality that made her easy to get on with. Honestly, Bakugo kinda like her. She was only two years older than him but gave off a very maternal attitude to them all. Her quirk was called Networking. It gave her the ability to communicate, send and receive information with any cellular or computer device she had previously made physical contact with by touching either ear, using the two small antennas that protruded from the top of each appendage. Basically, she could make calls, send and receive emails, tap into internal and external comms – all from inside her own head. Not to mention she would sit at her desk, fingers tapping furiously at an actual, physical computer. Her multitasking was frightening. Like a supercomputer with attitude.
She was also dating Burnin – that sidekick who previously worked for Endeavour, before his retirement and his son Shoto took over the agency. Now that – the idea of the two of them in the same room together – was an image that Bakugo absolutely didn’t need before 9am.
Choosing the elevator in the left corner of the room, he pressed the button to call the car up, entered when the doors slid silently open and hit the button marked ‘50’. The top floor.
The fiftieth floor was Best Jeanist’s offices and private conference rooms, but at this time of morning, Bakugo ventured to the lofty ‘top of the tower’, for a different reason than any need to speak to his boss.
The doors slid open, revealing the office, hidden behind a row of privacy glass with a pair of glass doors – which also bore the same feature – that was at this moment, tinted to obscure view. Odd. Bakugo didn’t think Jeanist would be in until around the same time that Suzi would normally arrive.
Ignoring the unusualness of it all, he made a beeline left, past the office and continued to a single door, steps leading upward to the roof.
Stepping out, the morning air was still cool, tinged with an almost metallic tang of the city still waking below. Without hesitation, his hand found his pocket and produced a battered pack of cigarettes and an orange lighter—scuffed, well-used, but reliable. He shook out a cigarette, tucked it between his lips, and thumbed the lighter, the flame briefly illuminating his face before fading as smoke curled upward into the bright dawn. People who spotted him partaking of this habit often asked why he didn’t use his quirk to light up. His response was simply to level them with a look that questioned the level of idiocy in asking such a thing. He’d then angrily remark how his quirk was explosive, not flame driven.
He crossed to the edge of the roof, boots making a hollow sound on the concrete, and leaned against the steel rails. Shinjuku sprawled beneath him; its towers of glass and steel still determinedly chasing those morning rays of sunlight, more traffic now winding through the arteries of the city like blood to a heart. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift and dissolve against the skyline.
His mind wandered, circling the news that would soon be sweeping through the rest of the world like a shockwave—All Might, the Symbol of Peace, returning to Japan. After everything, after the rise of new agencies and the reshuffling of power, the legend himself was coming back. And he wasn’t alone. This new ‘protégé’, someone All Might had taken under his wing—someone promising enough perhaps to warrant attention.
Bakugo frowned thoughtfully, fingers tapping against metal. What kind of hero had All Might deemed worthy to inherit his legacy? Was this newcomer prepared for the sheer weight that came with that title? Or would they crumble beneath it, as so many before had done in the face of public expectation and villain threat alike?
He took another drag, letting the questions stir and settle. Whatever storm All Might’s return brought, Bakugo knew he’d face it head-on—same as he always had. The city below was waking, and a change in the air came with it, but there was no question in his mind that he would continue to fight for the top position. But now, he would have two more hurdles to navigate on his way to the top. Fuck.
Giving one last resigned sigh, pushing out more of that thick, white smoke. He flicked the butt back into his hand, closing it and releasing a small pop, disintegrating his habit into dust. With one last look at the all too familiar skyline, he walked back across the roof and into the building. The steel door giving a final deafening clang as it closed behind him. God, he hated change.