[RECAP]
Nagato walked alone in a poorly lit alley.
Ahead of him, a man, head down, was nervously rummaging through a trash can.
Nagato approached.
The man looked up, saw the massive silhouette, and his eyes widened.
"N-Nagato... the Unbreakable Rock..."
Nagato said nothing. He kept walking forward.
The man backed up, hit a wall.
"Stop coming at me like that, you're scaring me... Here, the target's coordinates. His name is Vladimir."
---
VLADIMIR'S LAIR – DERELICT WAREHOUSE – NIGHT
The moon faintly lit the industrial alleys of the port. An isolated warehouse, trucks parked out front, men in suits smoking at the entrance.
Nagato observed from the shadow of a container.
Two guards. Not amateurs. Professionals. Their hands never left their weapons.
They had just come out of the makeshift toilets behind a truck. Bad habit. Nagato waited for them to resume their post in front of the door.
He moved forward.
Silent. Invisible. A shadow in the night.
The first guard saw him coming too late. Nagato raised his fist, and his arm hardened. The skin turned gray, rough, resembling rock. His punch sank into the man's chest.
CRACK.
The guard collapsed, his sternum shattered, eyes rolled back.
The second had time to draw his weapon. He aimed, fired.
Nagato didn't move. The bullet hit his shoulder... and bounced off, with a metallic sound. PING.
The man's eyes widened in panic.
Nagato grabbed his wrist, squeezed. Bones crunched. The weapon fell. Nagato caught it before it hit the ground, crushed it in his stone fist like paper.
The guard screamed. Not for long.
Nagato tore out his heart with a dry, almost surgical gesture.
The man fell.
Nagato looked at him for a second, then pushed open the door.
——
INSIDE THE WAREHOUSE
The smell hit him first.
Blood. Metal. Death.
The corridors were narrow, poorly lit. And strewn with corpses.
Men in suits. A dozen. Maybe more. All killed with chilling efficiency. Some had their throats slit, others had their skulls split open, others still had wounds impossible to identify.
Nagato stopped.
"Someone already cleaned house here..."
He observed the bodies. Professionals. Cut down like amateurs.
"...But who?"
He moved forward, stepping over the corpses, heading toward the main room, where Vladimir was supposed to be.
He was about to push the door when it opened.
A man came out.
He was young, long hair on one side and head shaved on the other, tired look, a strange blade in his hand. A curved blade, shining, that seemed to absorb light.
Nagato froze, took a low guard.
A survivor? One of Vladimir's men?
Masajo looked at him, eyebrow raised.
"Well, well, well..."
He approached, nonchalant.
"Another one of Vladimir's men? I thought I'd killed you all."
"Who are you..." Nagato said, looking worried.
"My name is Masajo... and I was sent here." [MASAJO OR MASARO]
And who are you?
Nagato took his time before responding.
"You don't need to know my name."
"Tell me first what you did with Vladimir."
"Ohh... lala, mister wants to be mysterious."
"What do you want to know about him? Do you work for him?"
"Ah... unless you came to take him out."
Nagato didn't respond and kept his guard up.
A sadistic smile formed on Masajo's face.
"I guessed right, didn't I? Ahahah so that was it... mhh."
He brought out his blade – Ku – and spun it in front of him. Then he vanished.
Nagato blinked.
Vanished?
A voice behind him.
"You're slow."
Nagato spun around. Masajo was there, three meters away, smiling.
"Instead of worrying about me, worry about your leg."
Nagato looked down.
His thigh. A deep gash. Blood flowing abundantly.
When... how?
He hadn't felt anything.
"How..."
Masajo spun his blade.
"Ku. That's my blade's name. Like most pariahs, we don't master ether manipulation, or we manipulate it with constraints. Some like me make a pact with their weapon so that it allows them to use their ether."
"But Ku isn't like other weapons – it absorbs its user's ether until it depletes their gauge, but in exchange, it makes them undetectable."
He started laughing to himself. "Ahahah for an assassin like me, that's perfect, I'm literally undetectable, almost invisible, don't you think that's great?"
Nagato gritted his teeth, hardened his leg to stop the bleeding.
"Why are you explaining all this to me?"
Masajo shrugged.
And became serious again.
"Just because. At least you'll know the reason for your death."
He attacked.
His blade cut through the air toward Nagato's throat.
Nagato, anticipating, struck the blade upward with his hardened hand. The impact resonated. His hand held. Then he sent a knee strike into Masajo's chest.
WHAM.
Masajo was thrown backward, crashed through a plasterboard wall, landed heavily on the other side.
He got up spitting blood.
"Damn... you're tough."
He wiped his mouth, looked at Nagato with new respect.
"Your power... It's hardening, right? Well, I'm going to check that myself."
He sheathed his blade for a moment, pulled out a gun.
"Let's see how far this goes."
He emptied his magazine at Nagato.
Ping ping ping ping ping.
The bullets bounced off his stone skin. Nagato advanced, unperturbed, ignoring the impacts.
Masajo backed up, eyes wide.
"...Okay, you're a monster."
He vanished.
Nagato scanned the darkness.
One second. Two.
Masajo reappeared right next to him, blade already in motion.
Nagato's pupils widened. Too close to block.
He raised his hand to block, but Masajo, faster, struck his wrist. Nagato's hand was thrown upward, unbalancing his guard.
"Checkmate."
The blade plunged toward his throat.
Nagato ducked.
The blade passed within a centimeter of his skull, grazing his hair.
Masajo, surprised by the anticipation, leaped back.
"...You're not human."
He sheathed Ku.
"Well. I'm not paid for overtime."
Nagato stood up, ready to continue.
Masajo raised a hand.
"Easy. We're not going to kill each other for nothing. I was here to steal stuff from Vladimir. If you came for him..." He pointed to a metal cabinet in the main room. "...he's tied up inside there. We're fighting for the same cause."
Nagato looked at him for a long moment, gauging his sincerity.
Then, slowly, he lowered his guard.
——
MEANWHILE NEAR THE LEE-HANN DOJO
Master Karate walked down the street, fuming.
Humiliation. Again. Always. One. The suited bodyguard. The cameras that had filmed everything. The networks mocking him.
He was nearing his dojo when a shadow emerged from an alley.
A thug. Tall, scarred, mean-looking.
"Hey, you. The idiot in the kimono. Got any money?"
Master Karate stopped, clenched his fists.
Another one mocking him. Another one.
He attacked.
A straight punch. Clumsy. Slow.
The thug easily dodged and threw a right hook that sent him to the ground.
Master Karate fell heavily, nose bleeding.
He got up, staggering.
"DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? I'M A GODDAMN CLASS B HERO!"
The thug sneered.
"But you're pathetic, old man."
Master Karate screamed, charged again.
Another hit. Another fall.
He stayed on the ground, face in the dust, tears in his eyes.
"That One... that creepy guy in the suit... all of them..."
He clenched his fists.
"I'M SICK OF IT! I'M SICK OF PLAYING THE FLASHY HERO!"
He got up, eyes wild.
"I'M GOING TO DESTROY YOU!"
——
[Bonus]
Anastasia, one of the Association's IT specialists, was at her desk.
When she received an email from her superiors.
The email said: {There are more and more pariahs wanting to join the Association and register as heroes. Explain to them that it's impossible by explaining what they really are in the eyes of our system.}
She grumbled for a moment, then opened the Association's official website and started writing a post.
Hello, welcome to the Good Citizen's Guide. Today I'm going to teach you what the term pariah means in hero society.
A pariah is a person judged by the Association as unfit to become a hero.
Pariahs are people falling into three categories of pariah with their characteristics that can hinder their heroic progression.
· Incapability to manipulate their ether: these people have powers or an ether gauge of very high or low power but unfortunately cannot wield this force as they wish.
· Incapability to properly handle ether: their case is different from the first because this type of person knows and knows how to use their power; the problem is they don't necessarily master it and often risk doing irreparable damage.
· The cost of use: these individuals find themselves blocked in their usage; their power is constrained by a rule that defines it. For example, they can only use this attack 6 times. Often the constraints can prove to be very dangerous for the user of their power.
Well. Now that you know this, you'll know how to tell if you're a pariah or not before trying to register in the hero almanac.
This message is official from the Hero Association.
She posted the message and turned off her computer. She slumped in her seat, staring at the ceiling.
"Arrgh... I'm starting to get sick of this job."
She picked up a framed photo of herself with a photo of a man she had torn from a magazine and glued to the frame.
"Good thing you're here to keep me company, my angel."
Her colleague Nahoto watched her with an incredulous look.
She glued a photo of Angel №3 from Class S – she's absolutely crazy.
Just as she was about to take her break, she received another email.
"OH NOOOO NOT AGAAAIN."
That's what you get for working in the Association's offices.