Darkscythe Drake
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Assassin Among Heroes Chapter 31
🕑 Added 2024-07-27 07:27:59 +0000 UTCTo bear the name Hassan-i Sabbah is to don the mantle of death. Not just as the head of the Order, but a living incarnation of death, a messenger of Azrael upon the Earth, carried by his black wings, which enshroud all men in due time.
Death flies on many wings, as all men can attest to. From the cold sting of the blade to the gentle kiss of old age, from the most innocuous sting of the gnat to Allah’s shaking of the earth and winds, the severance of life is as many-faced as it is absolute. A man knows not when or how, but it comes for him, as sure as the sun rises.
And what special mark does it leave upon creation when man becomes an instrument of death?
Nothing. Men perish by the whims of nature as much as they do by other men. Death is death; life’s finale is equal to all mortals, rotting in the earth. Whatever judgment that may come, Jannah or Jahannam, is in the hands of Allah and his servants.
But if a man studies death, then he may learn to shape those final strokes however he pleases. A butchery on the battlefield may become an insect’s bite on the neck, unfortunate enough to land on a vital artery. A crushing blow from a club can be cloaked as a stone, unfortunate enough to land on an unguarded head.
No example of fashioning death is finer than poison.
A plant or venomous animal, such as a nightshade or a scorpion, is taken. Its essence is then extracted and prepared accordingly: plants are ground, boiled, and often mixed, while venom is usually milked in its natural state. Neither of these tasks is laymen’s work; one misbegotten step can end a man with the same swiftness he wishes upon his foes. Handling such dangerous substances requires intimate knowledge in many fields, be it animal husbandry, chemistry, or botany. Scholars and papers from all the known world, many hailing from the Bayt al-Hikmah of Baghdad, have devoted years of their lives to researching these subjects.
But once done correctly, all it takes is one slip into a drink, one nick of a coated blade…and within a day, the target shall perish.
Maybe not death then? Many poisons dull the senses and make one feel as though they are floating on clouds, others wrest control of the body, sending the victim into terrible pain.
With poison, death can become art.
And within my order, none were as proficient as her.
My faithful found her clinging to life in the wreckage of a hajj caravan. On a whim, they brought her back to the fortress. The nameless blasphemers who violated the sanctity of the pilgrimage were wiped from the earth, yet she asked to stay.
They - I - heard the whispers of Allah, and thus decided; she would have a new name and with that name, be inducted into our ranks.
As her training progressed, her true talent bloomed: a hand at poison and alchemy like none of us have seen, a remnant of her homeland in the East. Concoctions that could do wonders and horrors alike, all with a quick and deft hand. To her, every plant, every part of a beast, was a potential toxicant. We allowed her much freedom, using our resources to purchase all manner of exotic specimens for her to transmute, and her devotion to us was equally matching.
When the mask of the Hashashin was bestowed upon her, she was let loose upon our enemies, and soon few that mattered were left. Each accusing the other of treachery or scrambling for whatever meagre crumbs of power were left. It is the priority of things to them; why should they investigate an infected bite or a sudden illness?
If the wings of Azrael must be summoned, a knife in the dark may not be the best tool. All it takes…is but a drop.
-x-
“Deadly nightshade…used as early as the Roman Empire, even on emperors…induces vomiting, hallucinations and affects the heart…”
I idly tap the pencil on the paper. Absently scratching my head, my brows furrow as I stare at my writing and the computer screen, where an article about the plant is displayed. I know Mom and the doctor said to take it easy - and I am, hence why I’m in my room and not sneaking outside, I can still feel my aching ribs - but this was too important and too interesting to leave be. If I weren’t so tired, I would’ve started writing yesterday.
‘Thy thoughts are in turmoil, contractor.’
I blink. ‘Ah, it’s just…it’s a lot to process. I didn’t expect you to show me this much right out of the gate.’ I exhale and shift in my seat. ‘Poison? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty obvious for a group of assassins but…was she that good?’
‘Maryam was the most adept poisoner of her age. I do not spin widow’s yarns when I say this; in her hands, anything could become poison, and what was already venomous was so potent that it caused illness even when inside the vial. It was this talent that pushed her up the ranks, and awarded her the honor of donning the mantle of Hassan-i Sabbah.’
‘Really? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t doubt your word, but poison is only effective if it’s administered by something, like a needle or coated with a blade. And even then, what do you do if it runs out?’
‘Not in the way she devoted herself to her craft. Upon her becoming the Hassan of Serenity, she had unlocked the zenith of poisoning - she had become a living poison.’
‘...I don’t recall you mentioning this.’
‘I had not reached that point. To prove her devotion, she ingested and infused many types of poisons into her body. Through rigorous meditation and her knowledge of alchemy, her skin, her fluids, every part of her body had become so poisonous that even her slightest touch could kill a man where he stood.’
…so she poisoned herself until she became a literal poisoned woman? How - how does that even work!? And how much of a zealot one would have to be to go through all of…that!?
‘To be the leader of the Order, one had to devote the entirety of his soul. Even at the expense of the flesh. For our bodies are but momentary vessels, yet Allah made our souls eternal.’
…I want to ask more, partly out of pure ‘what-the-fuckness’, the rest out of morbid curiosity, but I shake my head and focus back on the paper. One thing at a time Ritsu, don’t add a migraine to your injuries. We’re definitely coming back to that though.
‘So let me get this straight, you want me to start brewing poisons now?’
‘It would be a suitable addition to thy arsenal. I may not have taught Maryam personally, but I have witnessed her craft. I presume that the modern age has more than enough tools to fill any gaps that I might have in my knowledge.’
I chuckle. I’m not gonna lie, having a poisoned dagger lying in wait is very enticing. If I have to figure out a clever way to kill people, it might as well be with that.
There’s just one little problem with this idea.
‘Mawla…how on Earth am I going to make these?’
I can hear the frown in his tone. ‘Did I not say that I greatly dislike repeating thyself?’
‘I heard what you said,’ I reply. ‘It’s just, how do I put this? I am not making this in our cramped hideout, with no lights or safety gear, and the risk of something exploding in my face. One of the few things that stuck with me from chemistry class is that you have to have a lab and equipment for this kind of operation, and last I checked, there aren’t any spare, fully-furnished labs lying around!’
‘Besides, even if we managed to find a place to start brewing’ I continue as I poke the paper with my pencil. ‘Where the hell am I going to get the materials for these concoctions!? I can’t exactly buy them from a local pharmacy, and I’m not even sure some of these ingredients are real! Hydra venom!? Manticore hair!? Where do I even start with that!?’
…I am very thankful the conversation was mental, otherwise Mom would’ve started questioning my sanity.
For a few moments, I only hear humming, even as I keep writing more facts from the computer.
‘A point well-raised, contractor.’
I nearly drop my pencil as I feel my face twitch. Mawla actually agreeing with what I say, without commenting back?
‘Do not be so surprised. Thou pointed out an important setback that I, in my desire to educate thee, have overlooked. I must remind myself that thy relative success as a Hashashin was achieved with rather limited resources, despite my personal tutelage and the higher standards of this age. And as thou recently said, when dealing with poisons it is essential that thy workshop be fully prepared. Our own workshop is highly lacking in that regard.’
I am not blushing. No, it’s just the heat and my injuries. ‘Then do you have any suggestions?’
‘Not at the moment, no. I must meditate on this, but I urge thee to consider options thyself; thou art more familiar with this era and what avenues of opportunity it might offer thee.’
I lean on the chair and idly rub my bandaged chest. This was not going to be an easy problem to solve, no doubt about it. I’d think more of it too…if it wasn’t for my current predicament.
‘Well, regardless I can’t do much about it now. Mom’s still watching me like a hawk and I’m not in the mood to test her patience.’
‘True, thy injuries are also a deterrent; even with the healing of the Muraqabah, ‘twould be most unwise to recklessly venture into the fray of danger with them still present.’
I chuckle. ‘Not arguing with you about that.’ I rise from the chair and stretch for a bit. ‘I’m taking a quick break, I feel like I’m going to melt.’
One trip to the bathroom later and I open my ‘work’ phone. ‘Shiki hasn’t told me how she would get back my mask. I know it’s barely been a day, but I can’t help it.’
I quickly type a message. ‘Did you figure out anything?’
No answer. Damn it.
“Ritsu! Could you come here for a sec?”
I frown before I put the device away. Eh, nothing to be done about it…to my frustration.
I head to the living room and see Mom splayed out on the couch, her laptop and some papers lying next to her. “Would you be a dear and get me some ice cream? I got a strawberry one in the freezer.”
…I can’t help the deadpan even as she gives me an innocent smile. Ultimately though, I sigh and nod. “How many scoops?”
“One whole bowl.”
I trudge along to the fridge and prepare my Mom her treat. My obsession - I mean, my love for ice cream came from somewhere, and let it not be said that I don’t learn from the best. Only she heavily favors the fruity flavors and sorbets; I think they’re fine, I enjoy a good banana scoop every now and then, but they are nothing compared to the divinity that is cookies and cream.
“You seem comfortable,” I remark as I hand her the bowl and spoon. She snatches and happily scarfs down the offering. “I honestly thought you’d drop the work for a bit.”
“Eh, I was gonna, but then I thought I could do some of the legal papers through the computer. It’ll get the bosses off my back about problems in the future and I felt antsy.” She hums in satisfaction as she slurps another spoonful.
“Why don’t you do it more often? Work from home?”
She shakes her head. “Nah, there’s too much at the office I need so I can do my job right.” Besides, I’d grow fat and start sprouting mushrooms like…” she wildly gestures with her arm. “Like you do on weekends!”
My eye twitches. “Just because I like to play video games doesn’t mean I’m a couch potato! And for some awful reason, you like working on weekends! If anything, I’m the one who should be worried about mushrooms!”
My mother freezes for a moment, then slowly gives me a look-over. Hey, was what I said that offensive?
She then frowns and gestures at me to come forward. I lean toward her and she firmly but gently pulls me into a one-armed hug.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles into my hair. “I just…feel like I have to do it sometimes. I’ll try to stop if you want me to.”
…I’m honestly torn between saying no - because that will cut into my Assassin time - and yes - because it’s my Mom and I already feel like a piece of utter shit for making her worried last night.
Eventually, I just sigh and lean into her touch.
Not now.
“How’s your chest?”
“Mmm. Fine. Still aches, but I don’t know if the bones are okay.”
Mom pulls back and pulls up my shirt, a hand gently trailing the bandages under them.
“Does it hurt? Did anything act up since last night?”
I slightly shake my head. “Nothing too serious.”
Her focused stare doesn’t falter as she examines the wrappings, as though trying to see through them. A few beats of silence pass, as I try not to wince at some of her touches. Guess the bruising is still there. Judging by the way she’s frowning, I must’ve slipped.
“Those stay on for two weeks, at the very least. The Ryougis’ doctor said to make sure you do breathing exercises every day. Broken ribs can heal on their own, but you might have trouble breathing.” She looks up. “Try and take some deep breaths.”
I close my eyes and start doing as she says. For the most part, nothing feels too out of place, but I do feel a strain below my heart every few inhales.
“Again. It hurts, I know, but the doctor said it’s important to exercise those chest muscles and let air flow in.”
I repeat the exercise as Mom gently presses my chest. Every time I felt that ache, it must have shown, because she would then rub circles on me, occasionally whispering soft nothings to calm me down.
It takes considerable effort not to slip into Muraqabah. It might heal me faster, and I do intend to test that ability, but I don’t know whether or not it will put me to sleep, which would be very awkward and risky at the moment. That and…I don’t want to spit on Mom’s efforts. It’s the least I can do after making her worry like this.
A dozen or two breaths later, I stop.
“You okay, kiddo?”
I nod. “Yeah, just…recovering.”
She frowns before putting aside her bowl, getting up, and drawing me into another soft embrace. I hold her waist as I listen to her soft breaths.
“I was so scared,” she whispers. “When I saw you in that bed I thought…” She squeezes me tighter -
Fire blazing all around me.
I slide against the ground, the asphalt nearly tearing my clothes.
The stench of corpses permeated the air.
A roar of steel and agony tearing through the night.
The sword shining like an unholy star as the typhoon swirled ‘round and ‘round.
“-don’t make me lose you too.”
I blink as her voice pierces my thoughts, and realize how hard I’m gripping her. A shuddering breath, free of pain, escapes my lips as I focus only on her.
…god, I’m a mess.
She pulls back and sniffs at me. “Take all the time you need. It’s not gonna be easy, but we’ll get through it. I called Makoto-sensei and asked her to send me your homework.” She wags a finger in my face. “And I’ll be checking in every day! I’m not gonna let your brain melt like your ice cream!”
“...yes, Mom,” I groan. Yeah, I shouldn’t be complaining much, but I can’t help it. It’ll cut my lesson time with Mawla!
“Irrelevant, contractor. I had no intention of teaching thee poisoncraft outright. First must come the studies, and only then may they be put into practice. Not to mention finding a suitable space for such experiments is still an issue that must be addressed.”
Good point. Not to mention that I also need to wait for Shiki to deliver my suit, so I can’t do much else.
“Idle time is wasted time, contractor. Do not complain about thy education; only caliphs and emirs would not receive the level of instruction your people do, and they would not have access to the same troves of knowledge.”
I groan again, silently. ‘As you wish, Mawla.’
I notice Mom lean back and tap her chin, a curious look on her face. I tilt my head and move to ask her if there’s anything wrong when her stare morphs into a playful smile.
“By the way, you never finished telling me about this Shiki girl~” That’s it. God, please let my wounds fester because I am not ready for this!!! “Saving the life of a damsel in distress? Looks like someone likes Heroes more than they care to admit~”
“Wh-wh-this has nothing to do with that!” I stammer, fighting down the heat rushing to my face. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing! I’m not cruel to leave someone at some scumbag’s mercy!” And ‘damsel-in-distress’ is the last thing anyone could call Shiki.
“But you still did it! I knew there was some good left in you!” I facepalm and drag my hand down my face. “We’ve got to capitalize on this! My poor son, the ever-distant loner, doomed to be buried with those history books in the annals of time, has finally achieved a friendship! And with a girl!” She slams a fist on her palm. “I think I’ll invite Ryougis over for some tea, to show gratitude for how they took care of you. She doesn’t go to your school, does she? No, she strikes me as more of a private school girl. Shame, but maybe you can find some time to hang out. One of my clients showed me this lovely arcade their kids love going to-”
“MOM!” I yell with urgency. “I don’t need playdates like some six-year-old! I can manage on my own!”
“Sure you can Ritsu, sure you can~” she replies with words dripping with honey, making me groan into my palm. Seriously, my social skills aren’t that bad - not to the level where Mom thinks I need a goddamned chaperone!
Her chuckles make me look up to see her smug grin softening into a normal smile. “Relax, I won’t embarrass you in front of your gir -er, friend.” Woman, I caught that. “But seriously, try to spend more time with her. It’ll do you good, I guarantee it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And I’m supposed to rely on your gut for something like this?”
“Lawyer~” she shoots back. I find myself unable to reply, so instead I grumble. No, I’m not pouting.
“So!” Mom says, clapping her hands and tousling back her black hair. “Wanna watch a movie? Your pick.”
“...Kingdom of Heaven?”
She chuckles. “Yes, even that. I still don’t get why you still wanna watch it; I think we doubled the view count alone.”
“You can’t turn down art Mom! At least it’s the director’s cut and not that butchery called the original version!”
Eh, what the hell. One step at a time, Ritsu. No one’s going anywhere and I need to rest. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell Mom the truth…
…but at the very least I can be there for her.
-x-
“Sir?” the intercom on his desk buzzed. Endeavor stopped his browsing on the computer and looked at the device. “There’s a Detective Tsukauchi of Tokyo PD here to see you. He says he has some files for you.”
“Send him in,” he replied. “He’s expected.”
The Number Two Hero cleared his desk of the latest papers and documents and put them aside. A minute later, a knock came from the heavy doors. “Enter!”
The doors opened and the young detective walked in, briefcase in hand. “Good afternoon Endeavor.”
He slightly inclined his head and hummed in response. Others might deem it rude, but Endeavor didn’t see the point in wasting time with pleasantries, especially when important business such as this was on the table. They knew each other well enough, what was the point?
Gesturing to the empty chair in front of him, Endeavor straightened as the detective sat down and removed a series of files from the briefcase. “We’re still gathering evidence, but this is what we have so far on the Villain you encountered.”
The Flame Hero began perusing through the various statements and photographs, his face morphing into a stony frown and solidifying with every second. The witness statements were rehashes of his fight with the Villain from their perspective and how they evacuated their homes. The photos included detailed images showing every mark, footstep and crater the Villain made during their fight. All taken throughout the entire neighborhood.
“This is utterly useless.”
Tsukauchi sighed and his shoulders slumped. “Well, I did say that this is what we have so far. There’s also your report, but I didn’t think I needed to include that.”
“What about security cameras? Phones? Social media?”
“All dead in the water. The closest cameras were at the street corners, away from the fighting. By the time people realized something was wrong, they all were too busy trying to leave, especially with the explosions and fire. The most anyone had was a blurry haze.”
Endeavor gritted his teeth as he stared at an image of the Villain’s footstep, embedded in the asphalt, his mask erupting to life. “So we have nothing? A Villain that can do this much damage, and we are left scrambling like chickens?”
“Again, we haven’t finished analyzing the whole crime scene,” stressed the detective. “We’ve been looking through more cameras to see if he went anywhere else before that. We know he fought Stain at Sumida Ward, and from the details of your fight, his enhanced strength allows him to leap great distances - but not to fly. That means -”
“- he had to land at some point,” the Hero interjected, his flaming mask slowly settling down. The frown was still present though. “That is a great deal of distance to cover, for him and us.”
Tsukauchi nodded. “We’ll start with the areas closest to the crime scene and work from there.”
“Tch.” Endeavor wasn’t assured one bit by Tsukauchi’s remark. “A criminal with a look and a trail of destruction this distinct, and we haven’t one single photo or video?”
The detective bit his lip and nodded, albeit with heavy reluctance. A low rumbling emanated from the Hero’s throat as his teeth flashed in the light of his fiery mustache. He drummed his fingers on the desk, each tap echoing in the room, all the while his guest stayed silent.
“It has to be his Quirk, no doubt about it. This…lowlife…caused such mayhem that everybody would’ve seen it. So either the civilians were astronomically stupid-” Tsukauchi frowned at that remark, “-or the Villain had a means of deterring any visual capture of himself.”
He tilted his head at the pile of photos. “...yes, now that I think about it, I could barely make out his features behind that strange mist leaking from his body. The eyes notwithstanding, it was only when I traded blows with him head-on that I got a better look.”
“So that mist acts like a blur filter on a camera?” Endeavor asked.
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s the armor itself…I’d rather not keep guessing, I don’t wanna make false assumptions.”
Endeavor grunted, then looked up from the photo. “And what else? I highly doubt you came all the way here to tell me how little we know about this new Villian.”
The detective hesitated for a moment before his face turned grim. “There was…one other discovery…but I’m not sure if I’m allowed to show it to you.”
“Oh? And why not?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave.
“We discovered it shortly after you left. To be frank, it looks more like a separate crime scene altogether. As of now, we have no direct confirmation or even a theory as to how that and the Villain are connected, if at all.”
The red-haired man scoffed. “Please Detective, that excuse might work on B-list heroes fresh out of the academies, but not me. You know I can easily get permission from Chief Tsuragamae if I present my case right. I was allowed a far broader scope in the Naruhita case. If there is even the slightest possibility that this…new crime scene is connected, then it is your duty and mine to be fully informed of it. Or did you forget I was one of those called in to assist you with Shinigami in the first place?”
The two held their stares for a few more seconds, each unwilling to back down. In the end, though, Tsukauchi sighed and reached into his briefcase once more, pulling out another file. “Point taken. But you’ll get exactly what I mean when I say how different this crime scene is.”
He handed him the file and Endeavor began looking through it. With each page and photo, the burning mask on his face flickered between bright and low, betraying his stony expression, though Tsukauchi noticed the constant narrowing and opening of his eyes. A few minutes later, he spoke again.
“Ah yes…now I remember.” he bit out.
Tsukauchi grimaced at the tone, despite his sympathies. “The whole apartment building was littered with corpses. No one was alive when we put out the fires and searched the place, which was a miracle in itself; there was so much damage to the building we were lucky it didn’t collapse on us.”
He leaned forward and gestured to a picture of a corpse, bloated and rotten. “All of them were similar in condition, and the few autopsies we’ve done so far ruled out burning or asphyxiation as the cause of death. There are wounds and bruise marks littered all over them, including cuts to the spine, neck and tendons. Some wild, others almost surgical. But that’s not the crazy part.”
The Hero raised an eyebrow, prompting Tsukauchi to continue. “These corpses? Autopsy gave us more than one time of death, some of them ranging from weeks ago.”
“...weeks? But these wounds are fresh. I’ve seen my fair share of knife wounds, and these do not look old by any means.”
“Yes, but those bodies started to decay long before that. The surgeon found traces of formaldehyde and methanol all over them, the kind of chemicals used in embalming fluids, which explains why they haven’t decayed as much as they should’ve. Besides, he told me something else:” he pulled out another photo, gesturing to a damaged head. “There were unusual results when they began to examine the brain, something about the neurons degenerating and the brain chemistry being out of whack. It’s still a work in progress, but something happened to these people from before the attack, maybe even longer.”
Only one conclusion came to mind. “Experimentation?” Tsukauchi flinched at the hard, yet seemingly casual tone Endeavor used. Still, he nodded. “That is a possibility.”
Endeavor snorted. Possibility. as if it could be anything else. Maybe some lunatic fetishist, but Occam’s razor was best applied here.
“And all of the tenants were like this?” He nodded again and the Hero growled.
“You said there was little evidence of a connection between this and the Villian. What is that evidence?”
The detective gestured to a third photo. “The crater there? That was caused by someone hitting the road so hard that it opened a basement ceiling - a basement that is connected to the apartment building.”
“Someone,” Endeavor rolled his eyes and muttered. “As if it could be anyone else, and I certainly don’t remember causing this kind of collateral damage. So the Villain broke into this basement?”
At Tsukauchi’s confirmation, he rubbed his bearded chin. “Why though? Did these corpses draw him here, all the way from Sumida? What is missing from this whole scenario?”
The detective looked pained, no doubt struggling with the same question. The mask kept flickering and he could’ve sworn that an ember sparked in Endeavor’s fingers. He then got up, holding two of the photos and held them up to the window, as though trying to reveal some invisible clue.
“These cuts and slashes,” he uttered. “Was there anything else unique about them?”
At first, Tsukauchi looked confused by the question. Then, just as he was about to answer, he opened and closed his mouth several times as he grabbed another photo of a corpse and stared at it intently.
“...I know where you are heading with this, Endeavor, but for clarity’s sake, can you spell it out?”
“I’ve seen the files. Since I’m part of the Task Force, the Chief sent us copies of everything the police know about…him.” The Flame Hero shot a glare at the younger man. “And while it hasn’t been my priority as of late, I memorized all of the killer’s known patterns. The state of his victims, his preferred weapons, everything the police have on him. Which begs the question: what has Shinigami got to do with all of this!?”
Silence reigned as the detective squeezed his fists, his mind racing with implications, theories and possible explanations. He had a niggling suspicion at first, but nothing fit the picture and he had little to go on. The corpses were so damaged that anything could have caused those cuts, like debris or glass shards. Yet as he inspected the photos closely, the sour taste in his mouth until he felt like he was sucking a lemon. No glass could be that precise, or be delivered with that much force.
“...I have absolutely no idea.”
And god, did that hurt to say. Endeavor’s growl had reached jet-engine levels and a haze began forming around him.
“We don’t know it’s him though, there’s no evidence,” the detective stated weakly, only for Endeavor to sneer.
“Once again I find myself questioning your skills detective, is it not obvious? Besides, we both know Shinigami leaves no trail other than his killings. This is the evidence.” He threw the photo back on the desk. “He’s been strutting around for too long. Have there been any suggestions from the other members of this task force as to how to deal with him?”
“Only to keep sharp eyes out on patrols and maybe change patrol routes to the shadier parts of the city. We have people from the intelligence division scouring the web, maybe someone left an eyewitness account that slipped past us.”
The Number Two Hero idly nodded as he walked back to his chair and rifled through the files, the corners of his lips trembling. “First Shinigami, then this whole League of Villains situation back at UA, this new Villain and a possible human experimentation case…how delightful.”
The way he growled that word out made Tsukauchi unsure whether that was rage or predatory and if he was honest, neither seemed like a good outcome.
“Do you have any advice? I wouldn’t admit it to the Chief, but we’re starting to get stretched. We’re not holding anything back from finding these Villains, but as it stands there’s -”
“Spare me the excuse,” Endeavor said, cutting him off as his flaming chin quivered. “Your need for damage control is beginning to show its limitations. While it might have made sense early on, at this stage, Shinigami’s murder spree has attracted enough attention that it’s only a matter of time before some civilian with a good eye notices his prominence.”
He then leaned forward, his blue eyes seemingly glowing through the haze of his flames. “And when they do, you had better pray that the League of Villains or this…newcomer…does something so dramatic it will distract the ravenous horde from busting down your door.”
Tsukauchi pursed his lips and his hands grew clammy. He was not blind to the potential consequences of Chief Tsuragamae’s decisions, far from it; he was keeping an active eye on any newsfeeds, blogs and other sources related to sightings of Shinigami or his victims. Stories of how bodies were found in broom closets and abandoned rooms, cut up and left to rot until the stench proved too much to bear. How relatives of villains slept with locked doors and nightlights while keeping bats and anything they could use as weapons under pillows. Some of the vivid descriptions were enough to make him look over his shoulder constantly.
What frustrated him the most though was that like most of Shinigami’s would-be victims, he had no way of verifying whether these stories were true, in any capacity, and if they were, how many of them had facts he could use instead of tall tales.
“I will divert as many resources as possible to find those two. Whatever their relationship is, I don’t know and at this point, I don’t care. One of them will slip up sooner or later, and when they do, I’ll be there,” he ended with a growl.
Tsukauchi nodded in gratitude, though his posture still appeared weighted. “Thanks, Endeavor. I know the other cops don’t like saying this to Heroes, but we need all the help we can get, especially for these cases.” He rose from his chair and began packing the photos. “I’ll ask the Chief to inform the others in the know about the incident. Maybe they’ll run into him on patrol, or better yet, Shinigami,” and added under his breath, “I hope.”
Endeavor snorted. “I highly doubt it.”
The detective frowned as he put away the last photo into the file. Would it kill Endeavor actually to acknowledge help? The top Pros barely cared about their rankings, so it wasn’t like they would try and smear his reputation if he accepted their help. ‘I get the whole patrol area thing, the police are very territorial about their precincts, but this whole affair is way beyond that now. We need every hand on deck while following the Chief’s guidelines.’
He froze, focusing on that last thought. There…maybe there was something else he could do. The one in question wasn’t asked to come after Shinigami’s debut, but considering the case…it wouldn’t hurt, right?
He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the Flame Hero, who was giving him a questioning stare. Okay, maybe it would hurt…hopefully not. But what was more important, solving the case or catering to Endeavor’s pride?
“Is something wrong, detective?”
He blinked at the sound of Endeavor’s sharp voice. “Ah, no, thank you. I just had an idea…” he pulled out his phone and dialed a number as Endeavor raised an eyebrow.
“Hello, is this Sir Nighteye’s agency? This is Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi, Tokyo PD. Is Sir Nighteye in? I’d like to speak with him.”
Endeavor blinked as the realization of who the cop had called sunk in and his eye twitched. What?
“Sir Nighteye? I’m Detective Tsukauchi, nice to - yes, I am…” he chuckled. “You know? Who told you? …oh, makes sense. Listen, there’s this case we have that could use your expertise. We’ve been tackling it for months and I fear that we’ll hit a dead end soon. You’re one of the best investigators in the country, so I was wondering if - …no, he’s not involved…and yes, it’s that serious, on the same level. Really? You will?” Tsukauchi’s face lit up with a smile. “I’ll deliver the details to you in person. Is today available? Sure, I’ll be there.”
He ended the call and a satisfied smile bloomed on his face.
“Ahem. Care to explain that, detective?” Tsukauchi turned and was met by the Flame Hero’s unamused stare. A flash of heat rose to his cheeks but he fought it down; he knew this was coming. The detective raised his arms in assurance.
“Ah, sorry about that. It’s just that…Sir Nighteye’s one of the best investigators in the country. If anyone can get us a lead, it’s him.”
“I am not denying his skills, detective, but I have only just begun to look into the case; isn’t it premature to immediately call for help outside the…task force?” Endeavor asked snippingly.
Tsukauchi held back a sigh. “You were right that this case was in danger of spiraling out of control, Endeavor. We need all the help we can get, and fast. Nothing’s stopping you from investigating on your own, or even asking Nighteye to share his results when he’s done.”
The sharply drawn breath from the Number Two Hero told him exactly what was stopping him, and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Despite that, Endeavor nodded curtly at him before typing on his computer.
“Um…”
“You are dismissed, detective. Seeing as you’ll need that file soon, I’ll request the Chief to forward me a copy,” he said without even glancing at Tsukauchi’s direction. “When I hit a breakthrough, I’ll let you know.”
The detective lightly sighed, though he sported an exasperated smile. That was as close as he was going to get. Without another word, he exited the office, making his way down to the car.
“I sure hope Nighteye can uncover something that’ll cool Endeavor down,” he mumbled. “If there is a connection between those two, catching one will lead to other. Might be wishful thinking though.” He rubbed his forehead as the threads began to weave in his head. “No killer can be this discreet for so long. What makes him so special?”
-x-
It’s been a few days since I came home, and I’m already getting cabin fever. Mom won’t let me out of her sight until my injuries get better - not that I blame her - and she’s quite driven to stick by her words. I hear her constantly typing on her laptop and making calls now and then, not to mention her constant checkups. I still don’t know whether to be touched or annoyed…what the hell, I can be both. But she won’t let me step one foot outside the apartment, and I’m starting to miss the fresh city air.
‘You know, there used to be a time when this was all I dreamed about—staying in the house, playing games, talking to Mom.’
‘The truth is always a more majestic vista when viewed from afar. Up close, the imperfections become visible.’
‘Unfortunately,’ I grumble as I finish writing down another summary. Mom was not kidding when she said I’d catch up on classwork. Looking at all the papers on my desk, it’s like she asked Makoto-sensei for an entire month’s worth of classes!
‘Fanciful exaggeration is unbecoming of thee, contractor.’
I stretch my aching fingers and sigh. Okay, maybe it’s not that much…but still, I’m getting cramps! No using the computer for notes either - Mom says writing helps you remember the material better. Eh, that’s how I’ve done it in class anyway, so what do I know?
‘Although…’ I glance at the corner of my room, hidden from the door, where a duffel bag lay. ‘I can’t say nothing was accomplished.’
True to her word, I got a message from Shiki asking me to wait by the door yesterday at 1 in the morning. I did so until I saw through the peephole a familiar limo slow down outside our yard. I pushed the door open and a duffel bag was dropped on the sidewalk before the limo drove off. Making absolutely sure Mom was asleep and no one had woken up, I bolted outside and grabbed the bag before heading back. To my relief, everything I remember being intact that night was there - my suit, whatever knives I had left including the dagger, and best of all - the mask.
I felt like fainting at that moment.
Hmm…how did Shiki take off my clothes and hide them without her parents noticing? Do I really want to know?
‘Now that that loose end’s been tied up, I gotta figure out the game plan. I need to get my spare from the hideout and send this one to Shadow Gear for repairs and resupply - never did find another branch - start hunting down criminals again, and find a place to practice poisons. Any ideas, Mawla?’
‘Doesn’t thy school have a laboratory for handling chemicals?’
‘Yes, but that is an absolute no,’ I shoot down the idea. ‘It’ll be too easy for someone to notice something’s missing, and there’s too strong a link between me and the school. University labs are tempting, but I’m not risking cameras and guards, or students doing late-night experiments. No, if you want me to learn this, we’re gonna need a place no one can just barge into.’
‘Hmm…again, this is thy quandary to solve. I might have ideas for thee to improvise, but it would not be effective. Thou art aware thou shalt never reach Maryam’s level of expertise?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Obviously, and I don’t think you’re trying to make me into a poisoner, so I wasn’t expecting that. But if I screw something up -’
‘Then a location of thy own is preferable to one used by another, true.’
I lean back and play with the pencil. There’s gotta be something I’m missing here. Something I’m overlooking…but I can’t put my finger on it. Looks like some meditation before bed will -
“Ritsu!” I snap from my thoughts as Mom knocks on my door. “You still alive?”
“Barely, why?”
Mom opens the door and peeks in. “Wanna come to the mall?”
I blink. “The…mall?”
She sighs. “Yes, the mall. You know, the place where people buy stuff?”
“Ha-ha.” I deadpan. “What mall, in Kiyashi?” she nods. “What for?”
“Well, I want to say I need to iron out my shirt since my bosses told me it looks wrinkled on video calls, but I can tell you’re one scribble away from doing something stupid, so better nip this in the bud.”
I glance at my chest, where the bandages still press up.
“I called the Ryougi’s doctor and told him how you were doing. He said that if you’re not feeling too bad, we can go out. Depending on how you’re feeling at the end of that, we’ll see about getting those bandages off.”
I look at her calming eyes and scratch my chin. So either take a possibly annoying trip to the mall or stay here and do more homework…decisions, decisions…
“When do we leave?”
“Just give me a few minutes to get ready.” She’s about to leave when she suddenly stops and sharply turns to me.
“Was it something I said?”
She keeps staring at me for no reason. “Why don’t you invite Jirou to join us?”
I almost choke at her remark. “Wh-what brought this on!?”
“I’m not budging on this, Ritsu. You need to hang out with people and I’m gonna help you.” Again, I’m not a six-year-old! I don’t need you arranging playdates! “You met at that music store and it’s been a while since then. What is she doing now?”
“I think she finished her internship. Don’t remember where.”
“That’s great! Go ahead and call her,” I open my mouth but she cuts me off. “Don’t argue with me mister!”
I want to say I didn’t whine as I pulled up her number and instead resigned myself to the whims of my mother. If anyone asked, that’s what happened. A few seconds later, the dialing stops.
“Ritsu-oji! How’ve you been?”
“Yes, hello to you too Jirou,” I reply with a huff. “I’ve…been better honestly. How was the internship?”
“Ugh, it was intense. I don’t think I’ve used my Quirk this much since the entrance exams. But it was worth it! Death Arms took me on some of his patrols.”
Okay, now I’m curious. “We didn’t talk about it much last time. What’s it like hanging with a Pro?”
“It felt…weird, but in a good way. He watched me like a hawk the whole time and kept barking orders, even while jogging. But everyone I helped treated me like I was already a Pro. It was…great, better than great. Like all the torture they put us through in U.A. is paying off.”
Oh, how I sympathize.
“So, why’d you call? Just wanna chat?”
I rub my neck. “Sort of. My Mom’s heading to Kiyashi mall, where we met, and I’m tagging along. I was wondering if you were free.”
“Uh, Kiyashi? That’s…yeah, I’m free. Hold up - actually, some of my classmates wanna hang out there today! When are you coming?”
“Uh, Mom says in a few minutes.”
“Great! I’ll tell them I’m coming and we can meet up at the music shop. See ya!”
“Oh, okay -” she hangs up before I can reply.
That…was unexpected. Her U.A. class? This could be very awkward or interesting.
‘I concur. If their performance at this Festival is any indication, they will be formidable fighters. There is much to be learned from how a nation trains its soldiers.’
‘Mawla, they’re not exactly-’
‘Peacekeepers then. Semantics aside, I have no doubt that thou will encounter them at some point during thy missions. If thy friend’s apprenticeship is a standard indication, then they shall no doubt be actively involved in the affairs of their superiors, including hunting thee down. Better to know thine enemy under the veil of peace than the banners of war.’
…and that just shot down any objections. In the end, I shrug and get up.
If that’s how it is, there’s no helping it. The best I can do is not to screw this up.
‘Judging by thy record of social interactions, I shall pray for thee.’
Ouch, Mawla. Ouch.
Comments
ChidoriM4st3r
Very nice! Always good to see more chapters.
