With Overhaul now dead, his previously stubborn henchmen quickly surrendered, seeing that there was no point in fighting anymore. Most of them did not even bother trying to run.
Normally, escaping in the confusion after a large battle would have been a reasonable option, but both Mirko and Miyabi were present. Anyone familiar with recent events knew exactly why that made running a terrible idea.
Over the past month, the two had practically gone on an international criminal capture speedrun, chasing fugitives across multiple cities and regions across Japan in chains with brutal efficiency.
More than a few criminals had learned the hard way that escaping only meant delaying the inevitable. Even if they managed to slip past the authorities once, there was still a good chance those two would eventually show up at their doorstep anyway.
As a result, many of the remaining yakuza members simply raised their hands and waited to be arrested.
Tsutsumi glanced down at the black Originium dust scattered across the battlefield. Unlike everyone else present, he knew exactly how dangerous the substance was. Even in tiny amounts, Originium was not something that should be left lying around where people could accidentally come into contact with it. Most of the heroes and police officers there did not even realize what it was. To them, it was just strange black dust left behind after Overhaul disappeared.
Using Construction, Tsutsumi created a large glass container beside him. The transparent jar materialized out of thin air, causing a few nearby officers to glance toward it in confusion before returning to their work.
The moment it finished forming, Tsutsumi extended a hand.
Now that he had used Priestess, he granted himself complete authority over Originium itself. The black dust immediately responded, lifting from the ground and gathering together as though an invisible hand was sweeping the battlefield clean. Streams of black particles flowed through the air from every direction. Dust trapped between cracks in the pavement, scattered across broken walls, and resting on piles of rubble all rose together before converging into a single dark stream.
The sight was strangely beautiful, almost like black snow flowing backward.
Within moments, every trace of Originium had collected itself neatly inside the glass container. Tsutsumi sealed the lid and stored it away using his Aurora Curtain. Only after making sure none of it remained did he finally look around at the rest of the battlefield.
With Overhaul gone, the remaining yakuza resistance collapsed almost immediately.
The members of the Shie Hassaikai already knew this operation had been a losing battle from the very beginning. Their purpose had never been victory. They were only buying time for Overhaul to escape and continue rebuilding somewhere else.
Now that Overhaul was dead, there was nothing left to fight for.
Many surrendered without resistance. A few still refused to back down. Those individuals quickly discovered why Mirko and Miyabi had earned the reputation they currently possessed.
The results were predictable.
Several minutes later, the final pockets of resistance had been completely crushed.
Tsutsumi stood quietly and watched as officers escorted captured yakuza members toward waiting police vehicles. Some of the criminals looked relieved that the fighting was finally over. Others looked numb, still struggling to process everything that had happened. Nearby, medics moved from person to person, treating injuries and loading the more seriously wounded into ambulances. Emergency vehicles arrived one after another while heroes helped secure the area and searched for anyone who might still be trapped beneath the damaged structures.
The operation could be considered a success.
The Shie Hassaikai had been dismantled. Eri had been rescued. The Quirk Erasing Bullets had been secured. Overhaul was dead.
Still, success came with a cost.
Forty-two police officers had been injured. Twelve had died. Thirty-six heroes had been injured. Nine had died.
The numbers were not small. But this line of work had never been safe. Whether someone wore a hero costume or a police uniform, they understood the risks when they stepped forward. No one entered this profession expecting every mission to end perfectly.
Some people simply paid a higher price than others.
While Tsutsumi watched the ambulances drive past, Mirko eventually walked over and casually swung an arm around his neck before aggressively ruffling his hair.
"You could've done that the entire time?" she asked.
"Apparently, this was the first time I've used it," Tsutsumi replied, his gaze remaining on the emergency vehicles passing by.
Mirko clicked her tongue. "Well, that's annoying."
"What is?" he asked.
"The fact that you apparently have another ridiculous power hidden away somewhere," she said in an annoyed tone.
"I have a lot of those," he replied casually.
Mirko responded with a shrug, already accepting that as a fact. "Yeah, I noticed."
Her eyes drifted toward the destroyed battlefield before she spoke again. "You know, watching someone turn a giant monster into dust isn't exactly normal."
"Neither is a rabbit woman kicking people through concrete walls," Tsutsumi fired back instantly.
Mirko snorted. "You're one to talk, ice rabbit."
After a few moments, she spoke again, a little more serious this time.
"You don't need to worry about what the media says about this."
Tsutsumi glanced at her.
"They'll complain," she said. "They always complain."
She already knew how this was going to go. The moment the media learned that a hero had killed a villain, there would be endless debates, interviews, and complaints. Commentators would argue over whether it was justified. Others would argue that it was not.
The public generally accepted the destruction of Nomu because they were considered living weapons rather than independent people. Neither public opinion nor the legal system treated their destruction the same way as killing a human being.
Overhaul, however, was still considered human.
That distinction alone would be enough to create controversy.
"Why would I be worried?" Tsutsumi asked. "Do you worry about what ants think when they run around near your feet?"
Mirko opened her mouth, paused, then closed it again.
After a few seconds of thinking it over, she finally shook her head. "...Well, when you put it like that, you're not exactly wrong."
Tsutsumi looked at her, and Mirko looked back. For a moment neither of them said anything. Eventually she laughed.
The annoying part was that she actually understood what he meant. Even she could not kill five Nomu in less than five seconds.
The entire trip she and Miyabi had spent traveling with Tsutsumi had taught her one thing. He was not taking any of this seriously. Most of the time he was experimenting with new abilities, testing forms, or seeing what his powers could do.
Even against Overhaul, someone dangerous enough to threaten the stability of Hero Society and force multiple hero agencies into action, Tsutsumi had spent more time talking, mocking him, and experimenting than actually trying to win.
The gap between them was simply too large. For everyone else, Overhaul was dangerous. For Tsutsumi, Overhaul had never really been a threat.
Still, Mirko lightly punched his shoulder.
"Try not to give up on people completely," she said.
Tsutsumi raised an eyebrow. "Even if they're idiots?"
"Especially because they're idiots," she answered with a smile.
"That's a terrible reason."
"I know."
"They'll probably disappoint you."
"They disappoint me every day," Mirko said.
Tsutsumi stared at her, waiting for her to continue.
Mirko grinned, placing one hand on her hip. "Still, even if nobody asks, helping others when you have the strength isn't wrong."
Tsutsumi stared at her for a moment before letting out a small sigh.
"I'll keep it in mind."
"Good."
Leaving Mirko behind, Tsutsumi turned and began searching for Miyabi.
It did not take long to find her.
She was standing near a group of sidekicks and police officers, giving out instructions and coordinating the aftermath of the operation. Despite the exhaustion visible on everyone's faces, she remained composed as she directed people where they needed to go. One officer approached her with a report. Another asked about transportation. A third requested confirmation regarding prisoner transfers.
Miyabi handled all three without missing a beat.
Tsutsumi approached just close enough to be heard.
"I'll be leaving now. You know where to find me, Mrs. Miyabi."
He raised a hand and waved casually.
Miyabi glanced toward him. For a brief moment, she narrowed her eyes.
Something felt strange.
His soul looked larger somehow.
Not stronger.
Not brighter.
Just larger, as though something had attached itself to him, like there was an additional presence overlapping with his soul.
Between the distance and the amount of work she still had to handle, she could not properly focus on it. Eventually, she simply smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.
"Don't cause trouble."
"No promises."
"That's exactly what I was afraid you'd say."
"See you later."
Miyabi shook her head with a small laugh.
"Later."
As Tsutsumi turned and walked away, he raised his hand and opened an Aurora Curtain before leaving the battlefield behind.
...
In the middle of a dark, dimly lit night, heavy rain poured down without stopping, soaking the already gloomy world even further and leaving everything outside wrapped in a cold, wet silence.
Tsutsumi stood by the window and stared out through the glass, his purple eyes fixed on the dark sky above. For a moment, he simply watched the rain falling across the city, then he slowly shifted his gaze away and looked back toward the apartment he was staying in. The familiar presence in the room stirred something in him, and the memory of this world began to merge with his own.
A few new fragments of memory came rushing in all at once, bringing with them a slight headache that made him close his eyes for a moment before opening them again.
"Huh, seems like I have another older sister here..." he murmured with a hint of amusement, finding it a little interesting before deciding to stay here for now and see whether anything else about this world would be worth paying attention to.
He looked around the apartment again, taking in just how badly kept it was. Empty takeout boxes were scattered across the floor, along with beer cans, trash bags, cigarette ashes, bloodstains, and dirty clothes thrown around carelessly as if nobody had bothered to clean in a long time. The whole place looked more like someone had given up on living properly than an actual home.
Tsutsumi slowly walked around the room, his expression flat as he took in the mess.
"This place really is a dump..." he muttered, glancing around as if he might somehow find a broom lying around, though he could already tell there was no point.
Since there was nothing useful to work with, he simply used Construction to create the cleaning supplies he needed and began tidying up the apartment himself. He didn't mind doing it, and he didn't think much about why the place had ended up like this in the first place. Not every world he ended up in was normal, and by now he was used to that.
It took some time to clean everything properly, mostly because the bloodstains were stubborn and seemed to be everywhere. He did not bother asking where they came from, since that sort of thing was hardly unusual anymore. After all, this was one of those worlds where strange things could feel normal if you stayed in them long enough.
Once the floor was cleaned, the trash taken out, and the stains dealt with as much as he could, he moved on to the laundry. That was when he noticed something interesting. His older sister seemed to mostly wear men's clothing, and there were almost no feminine outfits anywhere among her things. Even more noticeable was the fact that most of her clothes were covered in bloodstains, as though she had been wearing them while working through something violent or messy. On top of that, he found several knives while going through her belongings, and they were all sharp enough to stand out immediately.
Tsutsumi lifted one of them slightly before setting it aside with the others.
"This is getting a little interesting..." he murmured to himself. "Either my family in this world sells knives, my sister's a butcher, or this whole place revolves around killing."
He put the knives away after that, keeping his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather.
Not long after that, the soft clicking sound of the front door reached his ears, making him turn toward it.
"Ryoko, I'm home."
A cold, deep, and raspy female voice called out from the entrance as the door slid open.
Standing there was a mature woman with straight black hair cut into a bob and sharp red eyes that gave off a strong, piercing look. She wore a dark gray and red trench coat draped over her shoulders like a cape, held in place by a small belt secured over her right arm. Underneath it was a standard white dress shirt, though it was worn in a deliberately careless way, untucked and messy at the hem. She also wore straight-cut black trousers, a single black leather glove on her left hand, and black shoes. Across her back was a massive odachi, strapped diagonally and angled toward the left side.
Her clothes were covered in blood, and she paused the moment she stepped inside, clearly not expecting the apartment to look so clean.
For a second, she looked back toward the door number, as if making sure she had not walked into the wrong place by mistake. After confirming she had come to the right apartment, she stepped inside more carefully and looked around the now nearly spotless room before narrowing her sharp gaze toward the man walking out of the kitchen.
Tsutsumi met her eyes without hesitation.
"Welcome back, Ryoshu."