AMV_WEAKLY
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[37] Fixed
🕑 Added 2025-05-30 16:50:56 +0000 UTC(Overhaul’s POV – Shie Hassaikai Compound, Office)
I sit in my office, reviewing documents—potential clients, projected profits, and the final steps needed to perfect the quirk-erasing bullets.
"This is how we'll rise again." I muse aloud, resting my head on my fist. "Once we secure the right buyers and stabilize production..."
A small smile tugs at my lips beneath the mask. "We'll hold the power and rule the underworld. No one will be able to stop us. Not the heroes nor the villains."
For a brief moment, I allow myself to feel satisfied. 'Everything is progressing smoothly since Eri was the perfect material.'
It still baffles me how he couldn’t see it. The Boss, with all his experience, was still shackled by outdated ideals. He was trying to run the Yakuza with honour, even if it meant us falling apart.
'Quirks are a disease, a mutation festering within society.' My work is necessary and he’ll understand when the Shie Hassaikai stand at the top.
"Just a few more tests and refinements. And then—"
The air shifts.
A distortion ripples before me, and in an instant, a figure materializes.
Who he is and why he’s here aren’t important. 'Questions can always come later.'
I move. My chair scrapes against the floor as I leap forward, over the desk with my hand outstretched, glove peeled off in an instant.
'Just one touch.' That's all I'll need.
I blink—and find myself frozen.
A jolt runs through me.There's no force or pain. I just remain still, hand stretched. I try to struggle, but it's as if the world itself binds me.
I meet his gaze—tall, young, white hair, blood-red eyes. My attention lingers on those features. They're familiar... and very, very rare.
A possibility forms in my mind, but I dismiss it just as quickly. 'She has no family left. There shouldn’t be anyone like this.'
"Who are you?" I ask, keeping my voice steady. "Judging by the fact that you’re standing here, either my men outside are dead, or you’re skilled enough to slip past unnoticed."
No point in getting worked up. If he were here to kill me, I’d already be dead.
The boy shrugs, unbothered and seemingly disinterested.
"You’re right. There is something I want."
Pain floods my mind. My vision flickering off for just a moment before returning along with the pain disappearing as suddenly as it appeared.
I'm still stuck in the same position, hand outstretched. My body is whole and untouched, but my pulse surges as adrenaline floods my veins.
"What did you do?" I ask, keeping my tone level.
The boy tilts his head, studying me like an insect beneath glass. "It won’t work like this," he mutters, more to himself than to me. Then, his gaze refocuses.
"I did something you like to do."
My fingers twitch. A sense of unease coils in my gut.
"Disassemble. Reassemble." He pauses. "Fix."
The pieces click together. 'Did he...?'
I've only ever 'fixed' one person. And it's not a painless process. 'But I'm still alive, so I can ignore that possibility.' I think, trying to calm myself down.
"Is this about Eri?" I ask.
His expression remains neutral.
I've never seen anyone like him in the underworld. A person with this level of power and skill should be infamous.
'Which narrows down the options.'
White hair and red eyes...
They're too similar, and the implication they suggest would be terrible for me.
'It's impossible. But not entirely impossible.'
If he were from a rival group, he wouldn’t be showing off—he would’ve killed me outright.
'Did someone leak information about the bullets?'
The thought alone is enough to irritate me, but I push it aside. Emotions are irrelevant right now. I need to adapt to the situation.
He nods. "Yeah, that’s right. Are you willing to give her up?"
Internally, I scoff. 'Of course not. She’s the foundation of everything. But...'
'My life is more important. And I can always get her back.'
I let out a slow breath, keeping my voice calm. "Of course I can give her up."
I pause, weighing the risk of my next words. "Do you know her?"
It's a risky question, but depending on the answer I'll need to change my approach.
"I don’t," he replies.
I let out an internal sigh. 'Good. If they aren’t related, then I can negotiate.'
He probably views her as much a tool as I do. They're similar features should just be a coincidence. Meaning...
"Then I’m sure you’ve heard about the quirk-erasing bullets. That’s probably why you want her, right?" He watches me with the same indifferent gaze, but he doesn't deny it.
"Let’s make a deal. I can offer you a lot more than just Eri if you work me."
He exhales slowly. “I think you’re mistaken.” His voice is monotone, but I can hear it—the irritation, the hostility lurking beneath the calm. “You’re in no position to negotiate, especially not with someone here to kill you.”
'Did I guess wrong?'
No. Maybe I’m enough of a threat that they need to eliminate me. But before I can reply, he continues.
“I figured it out now. 3,523 times. I know how to replicate the feeling.”
Something about the way he says it makes my stomach twist.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask coldly. No point in pretending to be civil now.
For the first time, I see it—a faint smile. It’s not one of amusement or arrogance. It’s something worse. I see it in his eyes.
Calm, quiet anger.
“How many times you ‘fixed’ her,” he says softly. “I’ll return it to you.”
A sharp prickle dances across my skin. A harmless sensation at first—then it spreads, creeping across my body.
Then it begins.
'—No—wait—wh–—?!'
Pain.
Raw. Unfiltered. And Absolute.
My skin peels away first, inch by inch. My muscles are stripped next, exposing bone. Then the marrow is pulled apart.
I try to scream. But my throat tears instead.
Darkness swallows me.
And then—
I wake up.
I jolt forward, my body slamming against my desk. My chest heaves, lungs gulping down air.
'What… what was that?'
I try to move. My arms shake violently, my fingers curled into spasming claws.
Not just my arms. Everything. Every part of me is trembling, not from just pain—but from fear too.
I turn toward him, the cause of this nightmare, and I hate the way my shaking worsens. He stares at me, head slightly tilted, as if studying me.
I force myself to my feet. I nearly fall. "What did you do, you bastard?!" I growl. I want it to sound furious. But my voice—it’s trembling too.
“I showed you what it’s like to be fixed.” His words are so casual. “3,522 times left.”
But the blood drains from my face.
'I can’t let him do it again. How do I stop him?'
My palm is already on the table so I activate my quirk... Nothing happens.
I freeze.
'No. No, no, no—'
"Quirks are a disease, right?” He tilts his head slightly. “I cured you.”
My breath stops. Then I start hyperventilating. Short, sharp intakes and exhales of air, struggling to fill the sense of dread welling up within me. My heart speeds up even more, pounding strongly as though to mock me.
'When? How?!'
My quirk is... gone.
I stagger back, collapse onto my knees. "Why?" The word barely escapes me. It's not addressed to him. It's addressed to the world. 'Why is this happening? Why to me? Why now, when everything was so close to completion?'
His expression doesn’t change. "You gave up sooner than I expected. Let's continue. I'll ensure you don't pass out this time."
'No... Not again—!'
His fingers snap.
And the agony returns.
It’s worse this time.
It doesn’t stop at muscle and bone.
It reaches deeper.
Slicing through organs.
Tearing so deep, that I'm sure it's reached my soul.
I try to beg, but my voice is lost in the pain.
Then—darkness.
Again.
But I'm awake.
Enduring everything.
Just praying that the darkness would claim me...
I wake up gasping, twitching, the memory of pain still burning into my nerves.
But something’s changed.
We’re outside.
I can barely lift my head, but I hear him. "You're left with 3,298 fixes."
I don't speak. I can't.
My mouth won't open despite my desperate plea. 'I want to apologize. To beg for forgiveness.'
"We’ve got nothing to discuss,” he continues, tone even. “I’m just showing you something.”
My head turns against my will.
I see my men—the Shie Hassaikai—collapsing, unconscious, their bodies hitting the ground without resistance.
"They knew nothing about Eri," he explains. "So I knocked them out. They'll be fine."
Then my gaze shifts again.
And I see them.
Arms and legs explode into chunks of flesh and blood quietly. There's no sound. No screams. No cries for mercy. Just raw, silent, eerie destruction.
"They heard of her," he says. "So they'll lose a limb or two."
His voice is empty. No hatred. No glee.
'He's just stating what will happen.'
Like a god passing judgment.
I barely register my own body collapsing onto the ground. I can’t even find the strength to tremble.
I know it now.
There’s no negotiation.
There's no mercy.
There never was.
"Let's continue."
'No… Please don't—!'
I try to beg, but my mouth refuses to obey — ruthlessly sealed by some unseen force.
A snap. And I’m dragged back into that abyss — pain flooding every nerve like acid through veins.
When I next awaken, the voice follows.
"You're left with 3,201 fixes."
My head jerks against my will, and I’m forced to watch my men die. This time... Rikiya and Shin.
"He siphons stamina to become stronger, so I made him old and weak." He turns his gaze to Shin.
"He compels confession. So I made him mute. He’ll drown in his own blood. They won't die until it's time, so don't worry too much."
The indifference with which he speaks is chilling.
He snaps, and again, the abyss welcomes me.
More pain. More tearing. More suffering.
"2,932."
Deidoro and Toya crumple next.
"Deidoro enjoys drinking. So I flooded his blood with alcohol. He's got more alcohol than blood in his veins now, but I'm keeping him alive. Made him feel like he's going through severe withdrawal, too." He sounds almost amused.
"Toya likes stealing. So they can share the same fate and experience it together."
That’s when I realize it.
'He’s not just torturing us... he’s mocking us. Every punishment is tailored to spite us in some way.'
But I don’t get angry. I can’t. The pain dulls everything... and they were just pawns.
"2,541."
Hojo begins growing crystals inside and out, as they rip through skin and crush his organs. He stays alive. Locked in that agony like a statue.
"2,200."
Tabe’s own limbs grow endlessly and are shoved into his mouth. His body regenerates faster than he can eat. Hes forced to eat to avoid suffocating, but his quirk is enhanced to make him hungrier, constantly starving.
"1,965."
Tengai, trapped in a shrinking barrier as he eventually gets crushed slowly. Then the process repeats, over and over again as he regenerates.
"1,478."
Rappa. Is beaten bloody with one arm destroyed. But he's left breathing. No cruel torture or death awaiting him.
"He wasn’t a bad person, but he still ignored her." The boy mutters, as indifferent as ever.
All Eight Bullets have been destroyed. With only one having any chance to live.
He mentioned the other 7 will die. Once a day has passed or someone discovers what's happened.
"971."
Mimic is shoved inside the mutilated of a researcher who somehow is kept alive, forced to experience his torment.
"He'll remain even after the body dies. I've merged his mind into the atoms. Even when it decays to dust, he'll feel it... forever."
"696."
Chronostasis is next. He's simply torn apart, piece by piece like I was.
But worse.
His perception of time is sped up. Every second of pain lasts a hundred years in his mind. I don't even know how long he suffered for
When it ends, the boy turns to me. "Only one member of the Shie Hassaikai remains."
My numbed thoughts flicker. 'B-Boss…'
I want to scream — to explain, to beg for him. He doesn't deserve to go through this.
"Don’t worry," the boy says. "I won’t kill him. He took Eri in. He was her grandfather. But I won’t fix him either."
The memory hits like a slap.
'I put him into a coma. I… did that.'
"The heroes will rescue him before he died, but he'll never wake up." He ruthlessly reminds me.
"I think I’ve dragged this on long enough."
One final snap.
I’m yanked back into pain.
And again.
And again.
Until, finally… it stops.
"0. I’ve repaid everything you did to Eri." He looks down on me. Smiling.
"From here on out — until you die of old age — is just interest. You’ll live in that pain forever. And don’t worry..."
I feel my stomach sink at his tone.
"I’ll make sure you live a long time."
'NO. NO NO NO NO—'
"Yes."
That single word, indifferent and cruel, is the last thing I hear as my mind plunges back into that agony.
And this time… I know I'll never surface.
