ShuraZero
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Chapter 119: The Scent of Danger
🕑 Added 2025-09-01 16:45:32 +0000 UTC"I'm telling you, green tea ice cream is superior in every way."
Toru's declaration echoed with the solemnity of a scholar presenting a doctoral thesis to a panel of skeptics. She gestured with her hand, as if holding the ice cream in question.
"It's refreshing, it has a complex flavor, and it doesn't leave that sticky feeling in your mouth like other sugary abominations. It is, without a doubt, the flavor of champions."
Ochako, who was carefully carrying a paper bag with several newly purchased manga volumes, shook her head so dramatically that her brown hair swung.
"That's heresy, Toru, and you know it. Double chocolate with cookie chunks is the undisputed king of ice creams. It's not just a dessert; it's a hug for the soul on a tough day. Yours is just… a blended, frozen leaf in a cone."
"A delicious and sophisticated leaf!" Toru retorted, offended. "Since when do you need a hug from ice cream? That's what we're here for."
"Sometimes a hug isn't enough. Sometimes you need chocolate," Ochako pronounced with a finality that brooked no argument.
Momo, walking beside them with serene calmness, decided to intervene, though her contribution wasn't exactly what they expected.
"If we analyze the nutritional value and physiological benefits, the superiority of green tea is based on its balance of antioxidants and its low glycemic index, making it a more sustainable energy option in the long term compared to the sugar spikes from chocolate."
Her tone was so clinical and serious that Ochako and Toru paused for a second to stare at her before bursting into laughter in unison. The laughter was genuine, free, and loud.
"Momo, you ruin the fun with your science!" Toru complained, giving her a friendly nudge that Momo accepted with a small smile. "Nobody picks an ice cream thinking about its glycemic index! You just pick a flavor you like!"
"Well, I like to understand the properties of what I consume," Momo defended herself, though the blush on her cheeks betrayed that she knew she'd been overly analytical. "But I suppose strawberry is also a viable option."
"That's even worse!" Ochako and Toru exclaimed at the same time, resuming their debate with renewed vigor.
Izuku walked a little behind them, watching the scene with quiet attention. A genuine smile, one he didn't feel the need to analyze or force, spread across his face. It wasn't just the trivial conversation about ice cream. It was the little details: the way Toru now gestured with her hands when she talked, a habit she’d developed since gaining better control over her visibility; the confidence in Ochako's posture, more upright, less worried about the money in her pocket; the relaxed calm of Momo, who joined in their jokes without the rigidity that characterized her in the beginning.
They were subtle changes, almost imperceptible to a stranger, but to him, who had spent countless hours watching them, training them, and worrying about them, they were as clear as the afternoon sun. They were growing. They were healing. Every laugh, every pointless argument, was a small act of rebellion against the darkness that had surrounded them.
This is good, he thought to himself, feeling a persistent knot of anxiety in his stomach loosen for the first time in weeks. Just a normal day. A day to be kids our age. We needed this more than I realized.
His gaze drifted for a moment, scanning the faces in the crowd. A habit he couldn't shake, a second nature forged in danger. But for once, he just saw normal people doing normal things: shopping, talking on the phone, laughing. And his team was part of that picture. For today, they weren't soldiers. They were just a group of friends arguing about ice cream.
Meanwhile, many feet above the street's bustle, atop one of the city's tallest skyscrapers, the atmosphere was radically different. Yu's penthouse was a fortress of glass and steel, a minimalist and luxurious space with panoramic views that spanned the entire metropolis. But today, those views didn't inspire power or pride, but a growing sense of fragility.
"I don't like it. I don't like any of this."
Yu's voice was a low, tense murmur, stripped of the flirtatious and playful intonation she used for the cameras. She had shed her Mt. Lady facade, the celebrity. Now she was just Yu, a pro hero weighing a threat she couldn't see or measure. She paced from one end of the massive window to the other, her contained energy making the lavish living room seem too small for her. Her footsteps were nearly soundless on the designer rug, but every turn revealed the tension in her shoulders.
"A warning from Mirko isn't something you can take lightly," Nemuri said from one of the white leather couches. She held a steaming cup of tea in both hands but hadn't taken a sip; the liquid was getting cold. Her eyes, normally playful and full of mischief, were fixed on the urban landscape, tracing the paths of cars and people as if searching for something out of place. "Rumi doesn't act on rumors. If she says there's a real, tangible danger to Izuku, it's because she smelled it. Literally."
"But what can we do?" Inko's voice trembled slightly, a stark contrast to the steadiness of her hands as she poured more tea into Nemuri's cup. It was the forced calm of a mother refusing to break down, a fortitude built from years of worrying about a son who always ran toward danger. "We can't lock them in a bubble. We can't tell them to live in fear every second of the day. They're young, they need… they need days like this. They need to laugh and argue about silly things."
Yu stopped abruptly in front of the window, her imposing figure silhouetted against the orange horizon. The sunset light enveloped her, but it didn't soften the hardness of her expression.
"I know, Inko. And that's what's killing me inside," she confessed in a low, frustrated whisper. "They're down there, completely exposed. Every laugh I imagine, every ice cream they might be eating… it feels like a countdown to something terrible. It's like watching kids play in a field you know might be mined."
"Then we won't leave them alone," Nemuri said, her tone shifting. The worry gave way to a steely edge, the determination of Midnight surfacing. She placed her cup on the coffee table with a decisive click. "You and I are pro heroes licensed to act. Inko is their official guardian, with full legal authority to intervene. And Toga…"
Nemuri's gaze shifted to the figure who had remained almost completely silent in a secluded corner of the room.
Himiko Toga, in her "Kageko" disguise, was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. She wore the gothic makeup and dark clothes that allowed her to move through the world unrecognized, but the facade didn't hide the tension in her posture. She hadn't said a word since the three women had returned from U.A. and shared Mirko's stark warning. She just listened, absorbing every word, every nuance of concern.
"...Toga is our secret weapon. Our eyes and ears on the street."
The word "weapon" seemed to pull her from her reverie.
"I'm not a weapon," Toga said softly, without looking up from the floor. Her voice was Kageko's, a neutral tone she had practiced, but the emotion coloring it was purely Himiko's: a mix of bitterness and resignation. "I'm a monster on a very short leash. If I go out there and something happens to them, what am I supposed to do? Smile and watch them hurt Izuku and the others? Or do what I do best and end up back in a cell, or worse?"
Her question hung in the air, heavy with a weight that momentarily silenced the heroes. It was a real question, an impossible crossroads.
It was Inko who broke the silence. She walked over to Toga and knelt beside her, a gesture that surprised Yu and Nemuri. Her voice was neither harsh nor soft, but simple, direct, and laden with an undeniable truth.
"You'll do what you have to do to protect Izuku," she said. It wasn't an order or a suggestion. It was a statement of fundamental fact, a truth they both shared.
Toga finally looked up. Her eyes, under the dark eyeliner, shone with a wild, golden light. Kageko's vulnerability vanished for an instant, replaced by the predatory fierceness of Himiko Toga. She saw in Inko's eyes not judgment, but understanding—the same protective instinct that burned inside her.
"Yes," she replied, her voice no longer weak. "I will."
The sun began to sink below the horizon, painting the clouds a melancholy orange that reflected off the shop windows. Izuku's group stopped in front of a small, traditional mochi shop that, according to Toru's passionate recommendation, had "soul-healing properties and could solve international conflicts."
"The last strawberry cream mochi is mine!" Toru yelled, and before anyone could react, she lunged toward the counter with surprising agility.
"That's cheating! You used your Quirk to make yourself lighter and run faster!" Ochako protested, chasing after her with a laugh. "That's illegal use of a Quirk for dessert acquisition!"
"You can't prove it!" Toru shouted back from the counter, where she was already negotiating with the elderly vendor.
Momo and Izuku followed at a more leisurely pace, watching the scene with amused smiles.
"Toru's confidence has improved remarkably in recent weeks," Momo commented quietly, her analytical gaze softened by affection. "Your plan of 'gradual exposure therapy' in controlled social situations is working."
"It's not my plan, she did it all herself," Izuku replied, though a part of him felt proud. "She just needed a little push to remember she has nothing to hide." But his smile faded slightly as his eyes, almost by instinct, scanned the street again. He saw a man in a coat too thick for the afternoon heat staring too intently at his phone and a delivery van parked double-wide with tinted windows, its engine still running.
It was probably nothing. Paranoia, as All Might had warned him, was a useful tool, but also a cage. He had to learn to differentiate real threats from shadows. But "probably" was a luxury he felt he could no longer afford. He forced himself to relax, to focus on his friends, on the sweet smell of mochi.
That's when it happened.
A scream.
It wasn't a scream of joy or surprise. It was sharp, desperate, and filled with a sudden panic that sliced through the happy murmur of the street like a knife.
Everyone spun around instantly. About sixty feet away, a young woman was on the ground, her hand outstretched to where her purse had been moments before. A slim, hooded figure was already sprinting down the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians with a practiced and cruel agility, the stolen purse held tight under their arm.
The world seemed to slow down for Izuku. The city's hum turned to distant white noise. The training, the reflexes, the instincts… everything kicked in at once. He saw Ochako's muscles tense, ready to float and give chase. He saw Momo calculating distances and angles, probably thinking about what useful object she could create.
His team's reaction was instantaneous, a silent symphony of trained instincts.
Ochako was already taking the first step, her fingers ready to activate. But Izuku was faster.
"No!"
His voice wasn't a shout, but an urgent, sharp whisper, a command that stopped them in their tracks as effectively as a wall. They looked at him, confused.
"No Quirks. No costumes. We can't," he added, his gaze fixed on the fleeing thief.
The law was clear, absolute, and unforgiving. Using Quirks in public without a hero license, unless in a situation of immediate and direct self-defense, was a serious crime. And they—All Might's protégés, the survivors of the League's attack—were under a bigger microscope than anyone. One mistake, one transgression, and everything they had fought for could come crashing down. They would give their enemies the exact ammunition they needed.
The thief was fast. They were already turning a corner, about to disappear into the crowd and side streets. The window of opportunity was closing.
Izuku didn't think in words. His mind, fueled by months of analyzing Quirks, combat, and All Might's constant warning to think outside the box, saw the situation not as a crime that required a beatdown, but as a physics problem with multiple variables and available resources. And his resources were three incredibly talented girls by his side.
"Ochako," his voice was barely a murmur, "that loose piece of pavement, ten feet ahead of him, on the left. One touch. Very light. Just enough to make him trip. No one can notice."
Ochako didn't hesitate for a second. She didn't ask. She trusted. As she pretended to run forward a few steps like any other alarmed civilian, her right hand dipped discreetly, almost brushing the ground. Her fingers activated for an infinitesimal fraction of a second. Sixty feet away, the thief, in mid-sprint, felt the ground under his left foot give way in a completely unnatural manner, as if stepping on quicksand for an instant. It was enough. He lost his balance, his rhythm broke, and he stumbled clumsily, flailing his arms to keep from falling.
"Toru," Izuku continued without missing a beat, his eyes tracking the thief's every move, "the reflection from that electronics store window. I need a flash. Right in his eyes, now."
Toru, who had already moved with the curious crowd and was conveniently near the store, raised a hand casually, as if fixing her hair. She angled the palm of her hand, a subtle motion lost in the crowd. The setting sun's light concentrated and bounced off the display window, creating a sudden, blinding flash that hit the thief just as he was trying to regain his balance and look ahead. Disoriented and with his vision blurred, he instinctively changed direction, running blindly to his right.
"Momo," Izuku's voice was now a whisper of lethal precision, the final move in a chess game, "your soda. The one you just bought. You need to 'accidentally' spill it. Right in his new path."
Momo, holding a large plastic cup full of a sticky grape soda, understood instantly. She took a step forward and "tripped" with perfectly feigned grace, letting out a small cry of surprise that any onlooker would believe was genuine. The purple, sugary liquid spilled across the sidewalk, creating a treacherous and invisible puddle right in the blinded thief's way.
The man hit the puddle at full speed. The effect was immediate and catastrophic for him. His rubber-soled sneakers stuck to the sticky soda, and his own momentum betrayed him spectacularly. His feet stopped dead, but his upper body kept going. He fell flat on his face with a sickening, wet thud, sliding a few feet across the pavement before coming to a stop in a pathetic, sticky, soda-covered heap. The stolen purse flew through the air in a perfect arc and landed with a soft thump at Izuku's feet.
The whole thing had taken less than five seconds.
To the pedestrians who had stopped to watch, the story was simple: they saw a clumsy thief who tripped on his own, was blinded by a random reflection from the sun, and, in his panic, slipped on a soda some girl had just spilled. A comedy of errors. An accident. Instant karma. No one suspected a thing.
Izuku bent down and picked up the purse. He was about to turn to approach the woman and return it when a shadow fell over him, blocking the evening light.
A red and white blur descended from the sky with dizzying speed.
The pro hero, Mirko, landed in front of them with the force of a small meteorite. She barely made a sound, but the impact of her bare feet on the pavement was powerful enough to create a small crater in the asphalt, sending up thin wisps of dust. She drew herself up to her full height, her muscles taut like steel cables, her long rabbit ears swiveling independently to catch every sound in the environment. Her red eyes, intense and piercing, weren't fixed on the unconscious thief on the ground, but on them. On the team. On the perfect, silent, and utterly undetectable coordination she had just witnessed.
Izuku felt the blood freeze in his veins. She had seen them. From some rooftop, from some vantage point, she had seen everything. Not the sequence of accidents, but the sequence of commands.
Shit, he thought, his mind racing. She's going to turn us in. It's over.
The police arrived quickly, alerted by the initial screams. Two uniformed officers made their way through the growing crowd, their faces a mixture of routine efficiency and end-of-shift fatigue.
"What happened here?" one of the officers asked, his gaze shifting from the downed thief to the imposing physique of the number five hero, Mirko. His tone instantly changed from official to respectful.
Mirko shrugged, adopting an attitude so casual it was almost insulting to the thief.
"Saw this clown running with something that wasn't his. He tripped like an idiot, so I made sure he stayed down," she said, her voice a deep, confident purr. Then, she gestured vaguely toward Izuku's team with her thumb. "These kids here helped point him out when he turned the corner. They've got good eyes."
The officers nodded without question, not daring to challenge the account of one of the country's top heroes. As one of them knelt to cuff the thief, who was beginning to moan, the other approached the purse's owner, who was now on her feet and thanking them profusely through relieved sobs.
As the crowd began to disperse and the police led the thief away, Mirko turned slowly toward them. She crossed her arms, a gesture that accentuated her musculature. Her red gaze swept over them one by one, lingering on each of them for a second, as if memorizing them.
"That was some fancy footwork," she said, her tone now devoid of all humor or lightness. It wasn't an accusation. It was an observation. A statement of fact from one expert to another. "You four. The way he went down… it almost looked like an accident."
Izuku stepped forward, instinctively placing himself between her and the girls, a protective gesture that did not go unnoticed by Mirko.
"Mirko, we can explain," he began, his mind scrambling for the perfect excuse. "We didn't mean to break the law, we just wanted to help without—"
She cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand.
"I know," she said, stopping him cold. "That's why you didn't." A slow, dangerous, toothy grin spread across her lips. "Breaking the law spectacularly is my job."
She circled him slowly, like a predator studying interesting prey. Izuku held his ground, though every instinct screamed at him to be ready for an attack.
"I like your style, kid. You think before you punch. Not many heroes, not even the pros, do that. Most of them only know how to charge in headfirst," she continued, her voice lower now. "I saw you at the sports festival. You've got good instincts, you react fast. But your stance is crap. You're completely off-balance."
The criticism was so direct, so brutal, and so unexpected that Izuku was left speechless.
"Ever think about learning how to really fight?" she asked, stopping directly in front of him, invading his personal space.
He met her eyes, processing the implied offer. The fear he had felt moments before was replaced by a wave of pure, overwhelming excitement. The number five hero, one of the most formidable hand-to-hand combatants in the world, was offering to—
"It would be an honor," he managed to say, his voice steady despite the whirlwind inside him.
She nodded, satisfied, as if he had passed a test.
"Good. Because you're going to need it," her smile vanished instantly, her expression turning deadly serious. "I heard you're staying in Yu's glass fortress. Stop by my agency sometime. Or better yet, I'll come to you. I want to know what that giant blonde is hiding behind all those cameras and fake smiles. And while I'm at it, I'll teach you how not to die in your first real fight outside of school walls."
Just then, as if summoned, a sleek black car, the kind that transports important people, screeched to a halt at the curb beside them. The tinted rear window slid down smoothly, revealing Yu's pale and worried face.
"Izuku! Girls! I got a police activity alert in this area! Is everyone okay? Inko was about to have a heart attack!"
Yu's gaze fell on the team and then met Mirko's. A palpable tension, that of two natural rivals with opposing styles and philosophies, filled the air. The atmosphere went from tense to electric.
"Well, well. Speak of the devil," Mirko said with a wry grin, not taking her eyes off Yu.
She turned to Izuku one last time, clapping him on the shoulder with surprising force.
"See you around, kid. Try not to get into any more trouble until then. At least, not any you get caught for."
And with an explosive leap that seemed to defy gravity, she disappeared over the rooftops, a blur of red and white moving at incredible speed. She left Izuku's team standing stunned on the sidewalk, Yu confused and wary in the car, and Inko and Nemuri, who were also inside, with their hearts in their throats.
