Location: USS Gerald R. Ford – Atlantic Ocean
Date: Thursday | 09:00 AM (EST)
WHOOSH.
The heavy ocean wind whipped across the flight deck of the massive naval command ship.
Inside the primary observation room, a group of high-ranking military officials stood around a glowing digital radar table.
Secretary of Defense Davis had his arms crossed, his jaw tight.
General Roberts leaned heavily on the glass, tracking the green and red dots moving across the screen.
Admiral Agpar stood on the opposite side of the table.
SIIP.
He looked completely relaxed, taking a slow sip from a cup of black coffee.
Standing quietly in the far corner of the room, completely separated from the military brass, was Kaito.
He wore a simple dark jacket and kept his eyes locked on a tablet. He didn't speak to anyone.
"Two months," General Roberts grumbled, tapping his thick finger against the glass table.
"You pulled your best squadron off the active deployment roster for two whole months of private training, Agpar. We left the eastern seaboard under-staffed. This little exhibition match better be worth the budget hit."
"Oh, it is," Agpar smiled, lowering his coffee cup. "Just keep your eyes on the board, General."
On the radar screen, fifty red dots were rapidly approaching a small cluster of blue dots.
The red dots were the Aggressor Squadron. Fifty elite human pilots flying top-of-the-line F-35 fighter jets.
Out in the cockpit of the lead F-35, Major Vance gripped his flight stick. He was a seasoned veteran.
His Quirk, Hawk Eye, allowed him to see miles ahead through the heavy cloud cover, feeding raw visual data right into his brain.
"Alright, listen up, Aggressors," Major Vance called out over the encrypted radio channel. "We are treating this like a live combat drop. You all know Star and Stripe's playbook. She is going to fly out ahead of her squad, grab the atmosphere, and try to swat us out of the sky with a giant air fist. Or she'll try to pull the oxygen right out of our engines."
"Copy that, Viper One," a wingman replied. "Breaking formation. Keep her guessing."
"Exactly," Vance smirked behind his oxygen mask. "She has massive raw power, but she drains her stamina way too fast trying to catch fighter jets. Don't let her touch your planes, and we run her out of gas. Break!"
VOOOM-SWIISH.
The fifty red dots on the radar screen scattered into a massive, unpredictable swarm.
Back in the observation room, Secretary Davis frowned.
He leaned closer to the screen.
"Vance is playing it smart," Davis noted. "Star and Stripe usually creates that giant avatar of air to fight multiple targets. It's too flashy. It takes too much focus. Let's see if your Japanese consultant actually taught her how to hold a proper defensive line instead of just throwing haymakers."
Over the main room speakers, the radio chatter from the X-66 squadron crackled to life.
BZZZT. BZZZT.
["Bravo Leader to Command,"] Ethan's voice came through.
He didn't sound stressed at all. He sounded completely calm, maybe even a little bored.
["We have fifty hostile bogeys on radar. They are scattering and establishing weapon locks."]
["Copy that, Bravo Leader,"] Agpar replied into his desk microphone.
["We are currently tracking civilian lives at a ninety-nine percent risk of loss,"] Ethan said smoothly over the radio.
He was reading the exact legal loophole Kaito had drafted for them word-for-word.
["Requesting immediate tactical support from our commanding officer."]
["Request logged and approved, Bravo Leader. Engage,"] Agpar said.
BEEP.
Out in the open sky, the Aggressor pilots expected Cathleen to launch herself forward.
They expected the clouds to part. They braced themselves for a massive, brute-force reality warp.
Nothing happened.
Instead, the blue dots on the radar suddenly shifted.
Instead of breaking apart to start a chaotic dogfight, the X-66 jets pulled in tight.
They snapped into a perfect, geometric pentagon formation.
"Formation set," Kashiko called out over the Bravo radio channel. "Boss, you are clear."
Standing openly on top of Ethan's jet, Cathleen didn't reach for the sky. She didn't grab the air.
She just placed her hand flat against the metal hull of the X-66.
"Touching the lead jet now," Cathleen's voice boomed over the comms. "New Order. Anything inside this flight formation is subject to my law."
In the observation room, General Roberts squinted at the radar screen.
The massive air avatar never appeared. The heavy turbulence didn't start.
"What is she doing?" General Roberts demanded, looking up at Agpar. "She isn't attacking them. She just put herself right in the middle of a kill box."
"Just wait," Agpar said quietly.
_-_-_-_-_
Out over the open ocean, the fifty red dots merged directly into the airspace surrounding the blue pentagon formation.
Major Vance gripped the flight stick of his F-35. He activated his Hawk Eye Quirk, his vision zooming in perfectly on Star and Stripe standing on top of the lead X-66 jet.
"She's just standing there," Vance called out over the Aggressor radio channel. "No air giant. No atmospheric manipulation. She's completely exposed. Viper Squadron, break them apart. Make her stretch her focus."
SWOOSH.
The F-35s dove in, their jet engines screaming over the water.
Inside the blue pentagon formation, Ethan didn't even flinch.
"Hostiles are in the zone," Ethan announced over the radio. "Firing lasers."
PEW. PEW. PEW.
The X-66 jets unleashed a barrage of concentrated light.
But the sound echoing through the observation room's audio feed wasn't the high-pitched whine of normal energy blasts.
The audio crackled with a heavy, grinding impact.
Cathleen placed her hand flat against the metal hull of Ethan's jet.
"New Order," Cathleen declared. "If a laser strikes a target, it becomes an unbreakable chain. If a projectile enters my airspace, its kinetic energy is reflected at two hundred percent."
THUD.
In the observation room, General Roberts slammed his hands on the glass table.
"What the hell kind of command is that?" Roberts demanded, looking at Admiral Agpar. "She just issued two completely different defensive powers! She already has a rule locking down the flight formation. She can't hold three rules at once!"
"She isn't," a flat, calm voice spoke from the corner.
General Roberts and Secretary Davis turned their heads.
Kaito didn't look up from his tablet.
He just swiped the screen. "It is an If/Else logic gate. A nested command. It counts as a single state of being with conditional physical reactions. She is only using one rule slot."
"..."
Roberts stared at the civilian. "You taught her how to program her Quirk like a computer?"
"Just watch the board, General," Agpar grinned.
Out in the sky, absolute chaos slammed into the Aggressor squadron.
The lasers didn't burn the F-35s. The exact second the light made contact with the hostile jets, the "If" condition triggered. The light instantly solidified into thick, heavy chains of solid mass.
"What the hell?!" a panicked voice yelled over the open Aggressor radio frequency. "My stick is jammed! I can't pull up!"
"I'm caught!" another Aggressor pilot shouted, sounding genuinely terrified as his jet jerked violently. "Something wrapped around my wings! I'm completely stuck in mid-air!"
SCREECH.
Metal groaned in the sky. Dozens of F-35s froze mid-flight, trapped inside a massive, invisible web of solid light.
They hung over the ocean, their engines flaring uselessly against the unbreakable chains.
Secretary Davis whispered, his eyes wide with shock. "She didn't even touch them. She locked down half a fighter wing without throwing a single punch or draining her stamina."
Up in the air, Major Vance gritted his teeth.
His Hawk Eye Quirk processed the battlefield in milliseconds.
He saw the gaps in the laser grid. He rolled his F-35 hard to the left, pulling intense G-forces as he slipped through a narrow opening before the chains could solidify around him.
He punched the throttle, bursting right into the center of the pentagon formation. He was nose-to-nose with Cathleen.
"I got a direct lock on the primary target!" Vance yelled, his finger slamming down on the weapon trigger. "Firing dummy payload!"
FWOOSH.
A heavy, unguided training missile shot out from the underside of the F-35. It hurtled straight toward Cathleen's chest.
In the observation room, Roberts gripped the edge of the table. "She didn't brace! She didn't use her strength buff!"
Cathleen didn't move. She didn't drop the laser cage. She just stood there on the moving jet, her arms crossed, letting the heavy missile approach.
The exact second the tip of the missile touched her suit, the second part of her nested command triggered.
CLANG.
The sound of the impact echoed like a massive church bell over the radio.
Instead of knocking Cathleen off the jet or crushing her ribs, the dummy missile abruptly stopped.
The kinetic energy was violently hijacked by the laws of physics she had just rewritten.
The missile immediately bounced backward with double the speed and double the force.
It shot right back at Major Vance.
SMASH.
The heavy payload slammed violently into the nose of Vance's F-35.
The entire jet shuddered under the sheer force of the reflected blow, the aerodynamic balance completely shattered.
"Mayday! Mayday! Engine stalled!" Vance yelled, fighting desperately with his flight controls as his jet started spinning wildly toward the ocean.
"I got him," Jackson laughed casually over the radio.
Jackson banked his X-66 and fired a single laser shot.
The "If" condition triggered again. The solid laser chain quickly wrapped around Vance's spinning jet, catching it safely in mid-air like a giant, glowing net before it could crash into the Atlantic.
The primary observation room on the naval ship went completely dead silent.
"....."
"....."
"....."
Nobody spoke.
The only sound was the low, steady hum of the radar equipment and the beeping of the green dots on the screen.
Secretary Davis slowly turned his head away from the radar table. He looked past the glass. He looked straight at the young man standing quietly in the corner.
Tap. Tap.
Kaito simply tapped his screen a few times, logging the flight metrics and response times without showing a single shred of emotion.
GULP.
General Roberts swallowed hard. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his weathered face. He looked at Kaito, then looked back at Agpar.
Cathleen Bate had a god-like power. Everyone in the Pentagon knew that. But for years, she had always used it like a blunt, oversized hammer.
She was straightforward. She was predictable. She fought like a brawler.
Now, looking at the radar screen, Roberts realized the horrifying truth.
She wasn't a brawler anymore. She was a terrifying, untouchable fortress running on cold, hard logic.
She was bending the literal laws of physics, trapping entire armies, and destroying her enemies with their own weapons without even raising her heart rate.
Cathleen was the ultimate weapon.
But the twenty-something civilian standing in the corner was the one who just figured out how to reprogram reality.
'With this newfound power, she should be able to handle any global threat. Even All Might or All For One wouldn't be able to break that defense. Hell, even that Japanese vigilante, Hero X, wouldn't be able to bypass this level of reality manipulation, right?' General Roberts thought inwardly.
["Exhibition match is over,"] Agpar announced into the radio. He couldn't hide the massive, proud smile spreading across his face.
["Aggressor squadron, power down your engines and prepare for towing. Bravo squad, bring her home."]
["Copy that, Admiral,"] Ethan laughed through the radio static. ["Drinks are on Vance tonight."]
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Chiba Public Park – Japan
Date: Friday | 04:00 PM
"Ninety-eight! Ninety-nine! One hundred!"
Mirio Togata dropped from his handstand pushups.
He landed flat on his feet, his shirt completely soaked in sweat.
He wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, breathing heavily but still grinning from ear to ear.
"Okay, my turn for sprints," Mirio pointed a thumb toward the long dirt track circling the park.
Sitting on a wooden bench nearby was Tamaki Amajiki.
Tamaki looked like he wanted to melt into the wood and disappear from reality.
He held a plastic water bottle in both hands, taking slow, exhausted sips.
"Mirio," Tamaki said quietly, staring blankly at the dirt. "We have been out here for three straight hours. The UA entrance exam is still months away."
"We can't stop now, Tamaki!" Mirio pumped his fists in the air, his energy completely endless. "Did you see the hero news this morning? Since Captain Celebrity came back to Tokyo, the whole ranking system is on fire. Endeavor and Best Jeanist are going head-to-head for the Number Two spot right now! They are pushing their limits!"
Tamaki sighed. He rubbed his tired eyes.
"We need to bulk up!" Mirio continued, flexing his arms. "We need massive muscles like All Might or Captain Celebrity if we want to compete at the top!"
"Mirio..." Tamaki mumbled, leaning forward on the bench. "Muscles don't solve everything."
"Of course they do! Strong body, strong Quirk!"
"Did you forget what we actually saw at the Sky Egg?" Tamaki asked. He finally looked up from the ground.
Mirio stopped jogging in place. His bright smile faded just a little bit, replaced by a much more serious expression.
Months ago, they had saved up their allowances for weeks to buy tickets to the O'Clock Agency concert at the Tokyo Sky Egg. They paid to see a music show.
Instead, they ended up huddled behind a cracked concrete pillar, watching a literal war unfold right in front of them.
They saw the Nomus. They saw the villain Nine.
And they saw Hero X.
"I remember," Mirio said quietly, his fists tightening.
"You keep talking about getting huge," Tamaki pointed out. "But Hero X isn't built like All Might. He isn't a massive tank like Captain Celebrity or Endeavor. He was wearing a normal business suit. He looked completely average."
Tamaki squeezed his water bottle. The memory of the slaughter was still fresh in his mind.
"But he defeated over a hundred of those monsters while other pros struggled" Tamaki continued, his voice steadying. "He didn't do it by punching harder than them. He didn't use raw, explosive power. He did it by hitting the exact right spots. He was fast. He was precise, right up until he used that snapping gesture to eliminate all of them."
Mirio scratched the back of his blonde hair. He didn't really know how to argue with that.
Tamaki was always the anxious one, but he was also incredibly observant.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Mirio admitted, looking at his own hands. "His fighting style is crazy. He just vanished and reappeared right where he needed to be.
"My point is," Tamaki said, slowly standing up and stretching his sore legs. "We shouldn't compare ourselves to the heavy hitters. We don't have All Might's brute strength or Hero X's speed and reality manipulation quirk. We just have my weird food Quirk and your Permeation."
Mirio nodded slowly.
His Quirk was incredibly difficult to control. Half the time he tried to use Permeation, he lost his breath, went blind, and ended up sinking straight into the ground by accident.
Brute force wasn't going to fix that. He needed total, absolute control over his own body.
A moment of silence passed between them.
Then, Mirio's trademark bright smile came back full force.
SMACK.
"You're totally right, Tamaki!" Mirio cheered, slapping his friend on the back so hard Tamaki stumbled forward and nearly dropped his water. "We can't copy them! But we can still make our own bodies the best they can be to fit our own Quirks! So, it's still the same.. Let's run!"
SIGH.
"I hate running," Tamaki sighed, pulling his hood over his head to hide his face.
"Too bad! Race you to the bridge!" Mirio yelled, immediately taking off down the dirt path.
Tamaki sighed heavily. But despite his complaining, a small, determined smile crept onto his face.
He put his water bottle down on the bench and started sprinting after his best friend.
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Tokyo Underground Alleyway
Date: Friday | 11:30 PM
CRUNCH.
A heavy boot stepped on a broken beer bottle.
Dabi walked down the dark alleyway. He had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his heavy coat.
Two low-level street thugs had just scrambled out of the other end of the alley.
Dabi had spent the last twenty minutes talking to them, giving them a time and a place to gather.
He was building his crew. He needed disposable bodies and raw firepower to start tearing down his father's pristine, televised empire.
SWISH.
Dabi stopped walking.
He didn't look up, but he instantly pulled his right hand out of his pocket.
A figure dropped straight down from the metal fire escape above.
SWISH.
A long katana sliced down through the air, aiming directly for the back of Dabi's neck.
Dabi pivoted on his right foot. He raised his hand, pressing his thumb and middle finger together.
SNAP.
The heavy friction spark triggered the ignition.
He didn't wind up for a punch. He didn't yell.
The spark ignited the oxygen in the air, and a massive, concentrated ball of blue fire roared out of his palm, shooting point-blank at the attacker's chest.
The attacker didn't panic or jump backward to avoid the heat.
Instead, the man in the ragged bandages stepped forward.
He kept his center of gravity completely still. He used the flat side of his katana to slap Dabi's wrist exactly two inches upward.
BOOM.
The blue fire missed the attacker and scorched the brick wall above them.
The attacker didn't stop moving. Using the momentum from the parry, he stepped into Dabi's guard and thrust the heavy brass pommel of his sword straight at Dabi's ribs.
THUD.
Dabi grunted, twisting his torso just in time to avoid taking the full force of the blow.
He slid his left foot back to brace himself and raised his left hand right next to the attacker's masked face.
SNAP.
A second localized explosion detonated in the narrow space.
Tilt.
The attacker moved his head three inches to the right.
The concussive blast blew past his ear, shattering the glass of a nearby streetlight.
SHHHH.
The attacker slid backward across the wet pavement, finally putting five yards of distance between them.
Dabi landed in a low crouch. He kept both hands up, his thumbs resting heavily on his middle fingers, ready to spark again.
Stendhal stood perfectly still in the middle of the alley.
He held his sword pointed at the ground, his shoulders completely relaxed.
"You," Dabi said, his voice rough. "Stendhal. The vigilante carving up villains."
"You were gathering those criminals," Stendhal rasped, gripping his katana. "I thought you were a vigilante burning the trash in the southern wards. But you are giving them orders. You are organizing the infection."
"I'm using them as fodder," Dabi shot back, standing up slowly. "I don't give a damn about street thugs."
"...."
Stendhal didn't attack again. He narrowed his eyes behind his mask, staring at Dabi's hands.
"That finger snap," Stendhal said. "It is a friction trigger. You ignite the oxygen directly. You don't wind up your strikes. You don't waste energy preparing your body to throw a punch. Maximum output with minimal physical movement."
Dabi looked at Stendhal's sword stance. He noticed the vigilante relied purely on angles instead of brute force.
"And you didn't try to overpower my blast," Dabi replied. "You just moved my wrist two inches to change the trajectory. You didn't dodge the second blast. You just tilted your head."
"...."
They both stood in the dark alley.
The tension was thick. They were two vigilantes sizing each other up, analyzing the brief exchange of blows.
Then, the familiarity of the attack patterns clicked in both of their heads.
The absolute lack of wasted movement. The minimalist logic.
The iconic single-gesture triggers.
Dabi let out a dry laugh.
He lowered his hands and shoved them back into his pockets.
"Hehe... Hero X?" Dabi asked.
Stendhal slowly sheathed his sword.
"Yes," Stendhal said. "Hero X."
Stendhal looked at Dabi. "The snap. Hero X?"
"Yeah," Dabi smirked. "Hero X."
Click.
The sword locked into the scabbard.
Stendhal didn't see the scarred man as a rising crime lord anymore. He saw someone who understood the baseline rules of combat.
"I study his fights," Stendhal stated bluntly. "He is the only true judge in this rotting society. He cleanses without hesitation. He executes."
Dabi agreed, leaning back against the brick wall. "I like him. He doesn't pretend to be some righteous savior on TV. He just gets the job done."
"The heroes in the spotlight rely on flashy Quirks and screaming their own names," Stendhal said, his voice cold and fanatical. "Hero X relies on discipline and absolute reality-bending precision. If we want to survive in this city, we have to fight like him."
"Yeah, well, good luck with your holy crusade," Dabi muttered.
He kicked a piece of burnt trash across the pavement. "I don't give a damn about purifying society. I just want to burn down the top guys who think they are untouchable. I'm not interested in hunting cheap villains in alleys."
Stendhal nodded slowly. He understood the boundary.
They had completely different motives, but they respected the same man.
He turned around and started walking back toward the main street.
"Stay out of Hosu," Stendhal warned over his shoulder. "That is my hunting ground. Any villain there belongs to me."
"Keep your crazy to yourself, Stendhal," Dabi called back, turning to walk the other way. "I got plenty of my own trash to burn right here in Tokyo."
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: The Bate Residence – New York Suburbs
Date: Friday | 07:00 PM
CLINK.
A fork tapped against a ceramic plate.
The dining room smelled like roasted chicken and garlic potatoes.
It was a completely normal house in the New York suburbs. Nothing about the floral wallpaper or the framed family photos screamed that the Number Two Hero in America lived here.
Kaito sat at the wooden table. He had traded his usual charcoal suit for a plain grey sweater.
Sitting across from him was Cathleen. She was wearing a baggy college hoodie, her blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun.
Next to her was her younger sister, Sarah. She was thirty-five, an accountant at a firm in the city, and currently aggressively typing an email on her phone under the table.
At the head of the table were Mr. and Mrs. Bate.
"Pass the gravy, Kaito," Cathleen said, holding her plate out.
Kaito picked up the gravy boat and handed it over.
"So, Kaito," Mr. Bate said, cutting into his chicken.
He was a large, broad-shouldered man with a friendly smile. "Cassie tells us you made the Air Force brass look like a bunch of idiots yesterday morning."
Cathleen barked a laugh.
She poured a ridiculous amount of gravy on her potatoes. "Dad, it was beautiful. Agpar was having the time of his life. The Pentagon guys didn't say a word the whole time. Kaito totally broke their brains."
"I simply adjusted her tactical parameters," Kaito said evenly, taking a bite of his food. "You did the heavy lifting out there, Cathleen."
"Yeah, but it feels completely different now," Cathleen smiled.
She looked down at her calloused hands. "Before, using New Order felt heavy. Like I was carrying a truck on my back. Now? It feels like breathing. It's like I finally woke up."
"We are just glad you aren't hurting yourself as much, honey," Mrs. Bate smiled warmly. She took a sip of her water.
Then, she looked directly at her two daughters.
The warm, casual atmosphere of the table instantly vanished.
"So," Mrs. Bate started. Her voice took on that specific tone that only mothers possess. "Now that work is going so well... when are you two going to finally settle down?"
"...."
Cathleen stopped chewing.
Sarah actually dropped her phone. It hit the hardwood floor.
THUD.
"Mom. Please," Sarah groaned, bending down to pick it up. "Not at dinner. I literally just finished my work."
"What? It's a valid question!" Mrs. Bate argued, pointing her fork at them. "Cathleen, you are thirty-nine. Sarah, you are thirty-five. I want grandchildren before I need a walker. Your father isn't getting any younger either."
"Hey, leave me out of this," Mr. Bate muttered, hiding behind his water glass.
"Mom, I fight villains for a living," Cathleen said, her face turning slightly red. "I don't have time to go on dates. Half the guys who ask me out just want me to bench-press them anyway."
"That is not an excuse," Mrs. Bate snapped. She looked over at Kaito. "You seem like a very smart young man, Kaito. You fix problems for a living. Tell my daughters they need to start a family."
"....."
Cathleen and Sarah both glared at Kaito across the table.
They were silently threatening him to pick his next words very carefully.
Kaito calmly wiped his mouth with a napkin. He set it down on the table.
"Timing is a highly volatile variable," Kaito said, his voice completely flat. "Personal growth cannot be forced into a rigid biological schedule. Cathleen is currently stabilizing the entire North American hero infrastructure. Sarah is navigating a brutal corporate sector. A forced relationship right now would only create unnecessary stress, drain their finances, and distract them from their primary goals."
Mr. Bate scratched his chin. "Huh. He actually makes a good point, Martha."
Mrs. Bate let out a heavy sigh. "You sound exactly like a lawyer, Kaito."
Cathleen let out a massive breath of relief. She gave Kaito a thumbs-up under the table. Sarah mouthed the word 'thank you'.
"Well, what about you, Kaito?" Mrs. Bate asked, refusing to give up.
She turned the spotlight directly on him. "You must have a lovely girl waiting for you back in Japan. When are you getting married?"
"I have zero relationship experience," Kaito stated bluntly. "I do not have a girlfriend. I do not have a fiancée. I work seventy to eighty hours a week, and I prefer it that way. I have absolutely no idea what marriage is like, and I have no intention of finding out anytime soon."
"...."
The dining room went completely quiet.
Then, Cathleen burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter.
"HAHAHA."
SMACK.
She reached across the table and smacked Kaito hard on the shoulder, nearly knocking him out of his chair.
"Oh my god, I love this guy!" Cathleen cheered, pointing at her mother. "See, Mom? Kaito gets it! We are career-focused! Leave us alone!"
Kaito adjusted his sweater. He rubbed his sore shoulder.
"Please do not hit me while I am eating, Cathleen," Kaito said deadpan.
"Sorry, sorry," Cathleen wiped a tear from her eye, still grinning like an idiot. "You're basically like my little brother now, Kaito. You're stuck with us."
Sarah laughed, finally relaxing into her chair. Mr. Bate just shook his head and chuckled, while Mrs. Bate rolled her eyes and went back to eating her chicken.
_-_-_-_-_
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