Overhaul kept the same easy tone. "I'm sorry about my daughter, hero. She loves playing around and keeps getting hurt. I don't know what to do with her."
Midoriya stayed frozen, his eyes locked on Overhaul's face.
Mirio's hand shot up and covered Midoriya's face on reflex. "Your hood and mask slipped again." He pointed at Midoriya with a joking grin. "Guess the size isn't quite right."
He turned back to Overhaul, his tone light and easy. "Sorry about running into her like that."
Midoriya glanced at Mirio for a second. Right, my face. That look of shock probably showed. If he suspects anything, it'll wreck Nighteye's whole operation.
Mirio stepped closer to Overhaul. "Nice mask. You're from Shie Hassaikai, aren't you? You guys are pretty well known around here."
"Yeah. Don't worry about the mask. I'm sensitive to filth." Overhaul answered calmly, studying them both. "First time I've seen either of you."
Mirio grinned wide, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah! We're new, so we're pretty nervous."
He turned to Midoriya. "Alright, up you get, partner. Let's head toward that future we haven't seen yet."
Obviously on guard. Can't give him our codename.
"Which agency do you two belong to?" Overhaul asked.
Mirio answered easy, almost joking. "We're students! Still new, wouldn't really be right for us to be with an agency yet. Just picking up some experience in different spots for our field training. Anyway, we need to wrap up our patrol here before lunch." He waved a hand at Midoriya. "Let's move!"
"Right!" Midoriya said.
But the second he tried to stand, Eri's grip tightened, her eyes filling with tears. "D... don't go..."
Midoriya's eyes went wide. "Um... your daughter... she looks scared!"
"She got scolded a little while ago." Overhaul said it calmly.
Mirio stood there watching, silent. Cut it out with the suspicion already. Then, out loud, smiling: "Let's go!"
"Wait." Midoriya said.
He reached down and touched Eri's hair, working through it in his head. She's holding on. Won't let go. Then, out loud: "These bandages don't look like they're from playing too rough."
Eri cried harder, gripping Midoriya's clothes tighter.
"She falls a lot." Overhaul said it steady, trying to cut the moment short.
Midoriya pushed on. "A little girl shaking like this without making a sound. That's not normal."
Something shifted in Overhaul's face. His eyes narrowed. "Please don't force your idea of normal onto everyone else." His voice had gone sharp.
Mirio jumped in. "Everyone's got different behaviors and judgments, right?" Then, inside his head, tense and annoyed: Stop it. Chisaki obviously doesn't want you digging. The more careful he gets, the less likely he ever slips up. Just drop it and let's go.
At the same moment, Midoriya was running through it all with a completely different logic. No. He'll be even more suspicious of us if we leave now. This isn't right. A hero wouldn't just let a scared little girl walk away. We're heroes.
Midoriya looked straight into Overhaul's eyes, his voice hard now. "What are you doing to this girl?!"
Overhaul stayed quiet for a beat, then slowly raised both hands. "Damn. Heroes really do pick up on the smallest signals in people." He paused. "Fine, then. This isn't really something to discuss out here, people could see us. Would you two come with me?"
He turned and walked into the alley right behind him. Midoriya got up, lifted Eri into his arms, and he and Mirio followed him in.
On the walk back through the city's dark side alleys, Zoro moved beside Yoroimusha in silence. The air here hung heavier, thick with damp and rust.
"Shie Hassaikai." Yoroimusha broke the quiet, his voice rough enough to match the surroundings. "That's the name of the group they belong to. Don't mix them up with the random street gang you just fought. They're leftovers from an older era."
Zoro rested a hand on his sword hilt. "Leftovers?"
"Way back, the yakuza ran the underworld with an iron grip." Yoroimusha continued. "But once the hero era took off and the laws got stricter, most of them got broken apart or forced underground. Shie Hassaikai is a dangerous exception. Their young leader, Kai Chisaki, the one they call Overhaul, turned them from some traditional gang into something closer to a cult."
He stopped for a moment, looking at Zoro with real weight in his eyes. "His followers' loyalty to him is completely blind. They'll die for him or kill for him without blinking. And their strength is genuinely deadly." He added after a pause, "From what I know, Overhaul's never cared much for swords. That's what makes that blade's presence with them such a mystery to me. But them holding onto it at all doesn't sit right."
Zoro stayed quiet a few seconds, eyes still fixed forward. "A sword isn't something you hand off to just anyone." He paused. "If it lands in a hand that doesn't know what it's worth, doesn't take care of it, that's an insult to the blade itself." He raised an eyebrow slightly. "Every blade carries something close to a soul. Neglect it, and that soul weakens before the steel ever does."
His voice stayed calm, but there was an edge under it. "If that sword's really there, it's not in good condition."
Yoroimusha studied Zoro for a moment without speaking. Then a faint smile crossed his face. "It's been a long time since I heard anyone talk about a sword that way." He turned his gaze toward the alleys stretching ahead. "Most people see a sword as a sharp piece of steel. A real swordsman sees legacy in it. Will. Responsibility."
Silence settled between them for a few seconds before Yoroimusha spoke again, more serious now. "But remember something, Zoro. A sword can choose its wielder. It can't choose where it gets held prisoner." He added, "If that sword's really in Shie Hassaikai's hands, our job isn't just getting it back. It's finding out how it ended up there in the first place."
Zoro kept walking, eyes forward. He wasn't interested in the history or the tangled politics of organized crime. He was breaking the words down from exactly one angle. A legendary sword. A black blade. Somewhere out there.
Inside the hero agency office, the air felt suffocating.
Sir Nighteye sat behind his desk, his eyes burning with controlled anger. Midoriya and Mirio stood in front of him. The silence pressed down so hard Midoriya felt like the room was pulling the air straight out of his lungs.
"You made direct contact with him." Nighteye spoke the words slow, letting every syllable land on its own.
"I tried to save the situation." Mirio said it calm, though tension leaked through anyway. "But things got complicated."
Nighteye slammed a hand on the desk. "Complicated is exactly why we gather intel in the shadows to begin with! What you two pulled could've ended in disaster. Chisaki isn't some street level criminal you take down in an alley. If he'd felt genuinely threatened, he could have killed you both, killed that girl, and leveled half the block before backup ever got close."
A cold weight settled into Midoriya's limbs. He looked down at his own hands. He could still feel the way little Eri had trembled against him, the grip of her fingers on his clothes. Her tears. The way she'd had to walk back to that terrifying man on her own, just to keep the rest of them safe from whatever anger he was holding back.
He'd let her go. Trainee or pro, none of that mattered in that moment. He'd simply failed to save a small girl crying right in front of him. The conflict tore through him. Should he have fought, risk or no risk? Or had letting her go actually been the right call, the thing that protected her and everyone else on that street? That helplessness dragged him straight down into guilt.
Late that night in the dorm, the lights sat low and the whole place had gone quiet.
Midoriya sat alone in the common room, staring at his own hands. Sleep wouldn't come. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Eri's eyes, red from crying.
He heard soft footsteps. Looked up to find Zoro walking in, heading for the small kitchen to grab a glass of water. Zoro clocked Midoriya's state instantly. Whatever was hanging around the kid, it screamed defeat.
Zoro drank in silence, then walked over slow and stopped near the couch Midoriya sat on.
"You look like you lost a fight before it even started." Zoro said it in his usual deep, even voice.
Midoriya didn't look up. "I failed someone today. She needed my help and I couldn't do a damn thing. Just stood there."
Zoro went quiet for a moment. He was never any good at empty comfort. He set the glass down on the table and looked at the kid with the eyes of someone who understood exactly what helplessness felt like.
"A sword that hesitates to cut ends up cutting its own owner eventually."
Midoriya's head came up slow, caught off guard by the line.
Zoro kept going, his eyes carrying the harsh weight of experience. "If you actually want to protect someone, stop crying over what already happened. Regret doesn't save anybody. Figure out how you get stronger for next time, so that scene doesn't play out again."
He turned and walked back toward his room, leaving Midoriya alone with those blunt words. Somewhere inside him, a small flame started catching in the dark.
At that same hour, far from the dorm, Sir Nighteye picked up his phone. His expression left no room for argument.
"Set up the secure room. We need an emergency meeting with select agencies. It's time to move."
Deep underground, inside a hidden Shie Hassaikai lab, Kai Chisaki stood in front of a steel table crowded with medical equipment and complicated machinery.
Eri lay sedated on a nearby bed.
Overhaul stepped forward and cast a calm look over the samples arranged in front of him. Nothing showed on his face, but his eyes still carried that familiar cold.
He reached out a gloved hand, adjusted one of the machines with precise care, then watched the readings in silence for a few seconds.
After a moment, he leaned in slightly and whispered, low but certain, without a shred of doubt in it.
"Getting closer. Once the bullets are finished, this society will finally return to where it belongs."
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