ShuraZero
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Chapter 116: A Mother's Contract
🕑 Added 2025-08-17 23:17:33 +0000 UTCMomo’s declaration—“we are officially at war with him”—seemed to freeze the air-conditioned atmosphere of the conference room. It wasn’t hyperbole. It was a diagnosis. A cold, precise sentence for the normality they had tried to reclaim.
Ochako shivered; the warmth of Izuku’s arm around her was the only thing keeping her steady.
“War?” Toru whispered, the word sounding absurd and far too large in the quiet room. “But we’re students. We’re supposed to be worried about exams, not… a war. I feel like I just skipped ten difficulty levels all at once.”
“Shigaraki no longer makes that distinction,” Nemuri replied, her voice calm but sharp. “To him, you are soldiers. And the most dangerous soldiers on his enemy’s board.”
Yu Takeyama rose from her seat, pacing in front of the panoramic window with a frustrated, contained energy. The clicking of her heels on the marble was a metronome of impatience.
“Momo is right. And that means this agency, right now, is both the safest and most dangerous place for you. It’s a fortress, but it’s also the only place they know you are. We have to make decisions. And fast.”
Just then, a soft but firm knock echoed from the conference room door. Everyone tensed. Kenji, the driver, peeked his head in, his face as impassive as ever, but with a barely perceptible urgency in his eyes.
“Takeyama-sama, pardon the interruption. We have an unexpected visitor at the front desk. She insists on seeing her son.”
Izuku frowned, confused.
“My… mother?”
Before he could process it, the figure of Inko Midoriya burst into the room, escorted by two of the agency’s impeccably suited security guards. She didn’t look scared. Her face was a mask of restrained fury and a concern so intense it was almost a physical force. She ignored the professional heroes, her son's classmates. Her green eyes, the same as Izuku's, locked onto him.
“Izuku!” Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with anger. “Toga called me. She told me… she told me you were attacked. At the mall. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She ran to him, her hands searching for any wound, any scratch, with the desperation of a mother who had already seen her son on a hospital gurney.
“I’m fine, Mom. Really,” he said, letting her hug him. “No one’s hurt. We’re all safe.”
Only then did Inko seem to register the rest of the room. She looked at Ochako, whose face was pale as paper; at Momo, whose posture was rigid with tension; at Toru, who was hugging herself; and at Toga, who gave her a small, somber nod. Then her gaze landed on Yu and Nemuri.
“Mt. Lady. Midnight. Thank you for bringing them here. For keeping them safe.”
“It’s my duty, Midoriya-san,” Yu answered, her tone professional but with an undercurrent of genuine respect. “And my responsibility. They were under my care. I am deeply sorry this happened.”
The sound of multiple footsteps approaching down the hall announced another interruption. The door opened again, and this time, the gravity of the situation materialized in the room. Principal Nezu entered with his unsettling calm, followed by a gaunt Toshinori Yagi in his skeletal form and Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi, whose tired face carried the weight of an entire city.
“Good evening,” Nezu said, his cheerful voice a discordant note in the tension. “I apologize for the intrusion, but Ms. Yu’s report was… alarming. It seems our day off has been canceled.”
All Might said nothing. He simply walked toward Izuku, his sunken eyes scanning the boy, searching for wounds that weren’t there, his face a mixture of relief and overwhelming guilt.
“Detective,” Yu began, taking control. “Thank you for coming so quickly. As I informed you, at 5:17 p.m., my team of interns was the target of a direct attack by the high-ranking villains known as Tomura Shigaraki and Kurogiri.”
Tsukauchi pulled out a notepad, his expression professional.
“I need to take your statements. One by one. With every detail you can remember. Uraraka-san, let’s start with you. You were the primary target.”
The next hour was a methodical and exhausting interrogation. Ochako recounted Shigaraki’s provocation, her voice trembling as she remembered the emptiness in his eyes.
“We were by the fountain… and suddenly, he was just there. People were moving away from him, like they knew instinctively something was wrong. He looked at me… and it was just like at the USJ. He didn’t see me as a person. He saw me as an… an object he wanted to break.”
Momo described the portal ambush with the precision of an engineering report.
“Kurogiri’s appearance was tactically perfect. He materialized in a blind spot, taking advantage of Shigaraki’s distraction. The radius of his portal was approximately two meters. His intention was immediate extraction, not combat. It was a kidnapping attempt.”
Toru explained how her flash of light had created the crucial opening.
“Izuku-kun yelled ‘NOW!’, and I just… reacted. I squeezed my eyes shut and released all the light I could. I wasn’t thinking, just acting. It was terrifying, but… it worked.”
And Toga, under the guise of Kageko, narrated her counterattack with a predatory glee that made the detective look at her with a mixture of horror and fascination.
“The man with the hands was very focused on the gravity girl,” she said in her melancholic voice. “A tactical error. He left his flank completely exposed. The opportunity was too… poetic to pass up.”
“So… you used his own Quirk against him,” Tsukauchi said, staring at the gothic girl. “How is that possible?”
“I’m a girl of many talents,” Kageko replied with an enigmatic smile. “And sometimes, when people are mean to my friends, I discover new ones.”
When they had finished, Tsukauchi closed his notebook with a sigh.
“Your testimonies are consistent. A premeditated attack. The target was Ochako Uraraka. Your team’s intervention is what prevented a tragedy. We will open an investigation, but…” his gaze darkened, “a villain with a portal Quirk like Kurogiri’s is practically a ghost. Tracking him is nearly impossible. For now, my only official recommendation is that you keep a low profile. Avoid public places. Don’t make yourselves easy targets.”
“A low profile?” Yu snapped, outraged. “They’re U.A. students! The sports festival put them on the map for the entire country! They’re recognizable! Are they supposed to lock themselves in a bubble until you figure out how to catch a ghost? That’s not a solution, it’s a surrender!”
“It’s the only advice I can give, Takeyama,” the detective replied, his tone weary. “The reality is, we don’t have the resources to assign a permanent security detail to each of them. The Hosu police department is overwhelmed after the incident with Stain.”
Nezu, who had been listening silently while sipping tea that had appeared from nowhere, finally spoke.
“That won’t be necessary, Detective. U.A. will handle the protection of its students.”
He turned to the team, his smile now devoid of all cheerfulness.
“What we feared has been confirmed. There is an infiltrator at U.A. The information about your shopping trip, an impromptu plan, could only have come from someone with access to your communications or your inner circle. Someone tipped them off.”
“Then… the training camp…” Momo murmured, the logical conclusion forming on her lips.
“Is the perfect stage for their next move,” All Might confirmed, his voice grave. “You will be isolated. Far from reinforcements. An ideal environment for an ambush. I’ve been thinking… and I believe we should postpone it. The risk is too high.”
“No!” Nezu’s voice was surprisingly firm, almost a bark. “Absolutely not.”
Everyone turned to look at him.
“Canceling the camp would be an admission of fear. It would be telling the League of Villains, and the entire world, that a handful of threats can bring Japan’s greatest hero institution to its knees. It would be handing them a victory without them firing a single shot. I will not allow it. The camp will proceed.”
“But the children will be in danger!” All Might protested, his guilt manifesting as overprotectiveness.
“They always are, Toshinori. That is the nature of their profession. Our job is not to eliminate danger, it is to prepare them to face it,” Nezu countered. “We will reinforce security. We will hire more professionals. We will change the location at the last minute. But we will not hide. We will prove that U.A. does not break.”
He turned to the detective.
“As for the scandal at the mall… there won’t be one. I have already spoken with the Public Safety Commission. The official story will be that a gas leak caused a small explosion in the plaza. Local heroes, along with Mt. Lady and her interns who happened to be in the area, performed an exemplary civilian evacuation. There were no villains. There was no attack. The incident never happened.”
The principal’s cold, calculated logic silenced any argument. He was turning a tactical defeat into a public relations victory, erasing the incident from the map to show no weakness.
All Might looked at Izuku, and the weight of the world seemed to fall on the boy’s shoulders.
“Izuku. During the camp, no matter what happens, under any circumstances, you will not separate from your team. Not for a second. Your unity is your greatest strength. Your mission isn’t just to train. It’s to keep them together. To keep them safe. Understood?”
“Understood,” Izuku replied, his voice firm.
It was then that Inko Midoriya, who had remained silent, absorbing every word, every veiled threat, every strategic calculation, stood up. Her movement was quiet, but everyone in the room turned to her. There was a new light in her eyes. The warmth of a mother had been replaced by the fire of a lioness.
“No.”
The word was soft, but it resonated in the room with the force of an explosion.
“I don’t agree.”
Nezu looked at her, tilting his head curiously.
“Excuse me, Midoriya-san?”
“I have spent the last year watching my son and these girls train until they break. I’ve seen them come home covered in bruises, in dirt, in blood. I saw them on a gurney after the USJ attack. I saw Ochako-chan treated like a criminal for defending herself,” her voice shook with the memory, a cold, ancient rage rising to the surface. “Detective Tsukauchi, with all due respect, you interrogated her as if she were a murderer, not a terrified child who had just saved her friends.”
Tsukauchi had the decency to look down, uncomfortable.
“I have heard your plans. Your strategies. Your smoke screens. Hiding the truth to ‘show no weakness.’ Sending our children to a camp you know will be a target. And your only solution is to tell my son, ‘don’t leave their side.’ As if the weight of their lives is his responsibility alone.”
She approached the table, her hands resting on the polished wood surface. She looked at Nezu, at All Might, at every professional hero in the room, without a hint of intimidation.
“I am done. Done sitting at home, waiting for a phone call, praying my son comes back in one piece. Done with villains being able to do whatever they want and get away with it, while our children have to live with the fear and the scars.”
Her voice rose, filling with a steel-like resolve.
“I’ve been training, too. My Quirk isn’t for flipping burgers or signing autographs. It’s for protecting my family. And this,” she said, her gaze sweeping over the four girls and Izuku, “is my family.”
She fixed her stare on Principal Nezu, her final declaration an unbreakable ultimatum.
“So forget your plans. Forget your protocols. Because I am going to that camp. Not as a spectator. Not as a worried mother. I will go as their escort. As their guardian. And if a single villain tries to lay a finger on one of my children, they won’t have to face a professional hero. They will have to face me. And I assure you, gentlemen, that is something they are not prepared for.”
The silence that followed her statement was absolute. Yu Takeyama was staring at her with her mouth slightly open, an expression of pure admiration on her face. A slow, dangerous smile was forming on Nemuri Kayama’s lips. All Might looked moved to his very soul.
Principal Nezu observed her for a long second, his black eyes gleaming with an unfathomable intelligence, calculating this new and powerful variable. Finally, a wide and genuine smile, filled with an almost maniacal delight, spread across his face.
“Midoriya-san,” he said, his voice brimming with a new and terrible enthusiasm. “I believe you and I are going to get along wonderfully. Welcome to the team.”
