AMV_WEAKLY
patreon
[4] Helping Hands
🕑 Added 2025-05-30 08:30:32 +0000 UTC(Kaina Tsutsumi POV – Okada Residence)
Under the cover of darkness, I approach the front door, my mind drifting to the intelligence report. The HPSC processed the hair sample and identified it as belonging to a 12-year-old quirkless boy.
Quirkless, yet he left that kind of destruction? Highly unlikely.
The house is silent. All the lights are off. Good. That means they’re asleep.
I kneel by the door, slipping a lockpick from my belt. Years of practice make the process effortless. With a faint click, the lock gives way. I push the door open just enough to scan the entrance.
Clear. I step inside, dagger already drawn.
'Using my quirk in close quarters is too risky. Best to be quick and quiet.'
I glide through the dimly lit hallway, past the living room, until I reach the master bedroom. According to the schematics, this is where the father—a pro-hero—sleeps. A physical enhancement type. Dangerous. I should take him out first.
The door creaks slightly as I push it open. My grip tightens on the dagger. Inside I hear rhythmic breathing. Two people with no signs of awareness.
I step forward, positioning myself beside the bed. One precise strike—throat slit, hand over his mouth. He jolts, muscles tensing, but his body is already shutting down as blood spills onto the sheets.
His wife stirs but she doesn’t even get the chance to scream before my dagger meets her neck. A sharp inhale, a gurgle and then, silence.
I watch with cold detachment, as the last embers of life flicker and fade. I check for pulses and confirm they're gone.
'He was on the HPSC’s list for a few minor crimes. Maybe not deserving of death, but he was a necessary elimination.'
My gaze flickers to the woman. "She was just a civilian..." I clench my fist—then release it just as quickly as I sigh.
'One more to go.'
I move swiftly to the boy’s room. Empty. A frown tugs at my lips. I search the wardrobes, under the bed—nothing.
'Did he run away?' A small, unwanted flicker of relief ignites before I shove it down. No. I need to make sure.
Room by room, I sweep through the house. No sign of him. Until...
The storage closet.
I reach for the handle, open it—and freeze. Two blood-red eyes stare back at me. No signs of fear or surprise. No tears threatening to spill. No. They watch me blankly, as if staring into some void beyond me, but I know that's not the case.
My muscles tense. The memory of the destroyed alley flashes in my mind, it's too dangerous to get close. I leap back, activating my quirk in an instant. Bending my elbow as a riffle barrel extends from it. My fingers move with practiced ease, plucking a strand of my hair and loading it into the chamber through my palm.
I take aim and... Fire.
A perfect, silent shot. No warning. No hesitation. And yet—I miss.
The bullet punches through the wall to his right, only grazing his cheek. A thin trickle of blood slides down his face, yet his expression never changes. His eyes remain locked onto mine.
'Impossible.'
I shift my stance, already loading another shot when—
"You're Lady Nagant, right?"
The words root me to the spot.
"The pro-hero from a few years back?"
And for the first time in years, my hands falter.
(Kata POV)
'Fuck!' That was too close. A few inches from death, literally.
If I hadn’t used telekinesis the second she aimed, I’d be dead… again. But it wasn’t enough. The bullet still grazed me.
I keep my breathing steady, locking eyes with her. Any hesitation and I might not survive the next shot. At least I’ve been beaten enough to ignore a little pain. I’ve had much much worse.
"You're Lady Nagant, right?" I say calmly.
She doesn’t answer, but I notice the faintest flicker in her eyes. She didn’t expect that.
"The pro-hero from a few years back?"
She’s still aiming. Still watching. But I see it now—she’s listening. Good.
I keep my posture relaxed, though my mind is on high alert. "So, could we talk first before you decide to kill me? At the very least, I'm innocent." I raise my hands, feigning surrender—but I’m ready to deflect another shot.
Silence. She’s still aiming. Still waiting. Guess I have to start this conversation myself.
"Don’t you find it weird? The way our society operates?"
No bullet. No reaction. I take that as my cue to continue.
"People live in ignorance of the evils that happen behind the scenes. Corruption plagues hero society, and no one sees it. No one wants to."
She doesn't move, but I can tell I've got her attention. She’s listening.
"I’ve known about it for a while now. My dad’s a pro. And I’ve been getting abused for as long as I can remember."
That gets a reaction. A subtle one—barely a shift in her expression. But it’s there.
"I get it if you don’t believe me," I add. "You can check my hospital records. Or..."
Slowly, deliberately, I pull off my shirt. I move slow enough not to provoke a response, revealing the scars and bruises littering my torso, back, and arms. Her eyes narrow slightly in stunned silence.
"So yeah, I’ve had my doubts about how real most heroes are for a while now."
The silence lingers. She’s still hung up on the scars. Probably trying to reconcile them with my age. Twelve-year-olds aren’t supposed to look like this.
I take the chance to push forward. "Anyway..." I say, snapping her out of it. "Based on how many heroes have disappeared, the ones with shady record or violent behaviour mostly, and how you acted before joining the HPSC... you wanted to make a difference, didn’t you?"
Her eyes narrow. She’s analyzing my words.
"I can help with that—if you’re willing to listen."
Another long silence. I begin to wonder if I’m playing a losing game. Then—
"How?"
Her voice is cold. Detached. But there’s something beneath it. Curiosity and the hope that my words do hold truth.
I allow myself a small smile. She's hooked.
"The best way to bring them down is to expose them. And who better to do it than you—their victim, their weapon, and a witness to all their crimes?"
Her eyes harden. I raise a hand quickly. "And no, I’m not planning to use you as a sacrifice."
She tenses slightly, as if the thought had already crossed her mind.
"I know someone who can protect you. Someone with power. And someone who disagrees with their methods enough to support us, given the right incentives."
She studies me carefully before speaking. "Who?"
I exhale through my nose. Of course, she’s not one for conversation.
"Nezu," I say simply. "The principal of U.A."
She still looks skeptical. Understandable.
"He might not help us just because we ask. But I have something to offer him. Something he can’t refuse."
Her expression remains unreadable. Then—"And what is that?"
"I can't tell you..." I say, watching her frown. "But I wouldn't lie. We're in the same boat—forced allies, whether we like it or not. If we fail, we both die. You, because you know too much about the HPSC. Me, since I was already a target."
She watches me for a long moment, weighing my words. Then, with a quiet exhale, she lowers her arm and releases her quirk.
I let out a small breath of relief and reach into my pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper.
"Take this. Go to U.A., find Nezu, and tell him everything about the HPSC. If he refuses to help after that, hand him this paper. It should be enough to convince him." I hesitate before adding, "But don't read it. It'll make things more complicated if he knows you know what written on it. It's a secret relating to him, so I think he'd prefer it that way too."
She eyes me, then the paper, before taking it without a word. Turning, she begins to walk away.
I exhale. 'Still alive. I'll consider that as having succeeded.'
Before she leaves, something compels me to speak—something beyond strategy or survival. Just one broken soul reaching out to another.
"Lady Nagant."
She stops, turning her head just enough to look at me. That cold, detached mask still in place.
"I believe the intent is just as important as the result. You aren't a villain. The ones who used your kindness to do evil—they are." I pause, watching her carefully. "And for what it’s worth… you saved people. More than most so-called heroes ever could. That makes you more of a hero than them."
For the first time, her expression cracks. A flicker of something—shock, maybe even relief—crosses her face before she forces it away. She turns sharply, walking off faster than before. But just as she reaches the door, I hear it.
"...Thank you."
The door closes behind her. I let out a slow breath, the tension finally leaving my body. Slumping against the wall, I close my eyes.
"Now… I just have to wait and see what Nezu does."
A small smile tugs at my lips. He won’t refuse. Not with what’s on that paper.
(Nezu POV – U.A. High School, Principal's Office)
"That's right—it's me, Nezu! The one who could be a dog, a mouse, or a bear... but most importantly, the principal!" I declare with a high-pitched laugh, addressing my unexpected visitor.
Lady Nagant. Pro-hero. HPSC operative.
I take a slow sip of my tea, setting the cup down gently before lacing my fingers together. "To what do I owe the pleasure of such an early morning visit?" I ask with a pleasant smile, analyzing her every movement.
She stands still, expression unreadable. A long silence stretches between us.
Finally, she speaks.
"I'm here to talk about the HPSC... and I need your help to bring them down."
She doesn’t stop there. She tells me everything—how she was recruited, the dirty work she was forced to do, the doubts that have haunted her. But most interestingly, she refuses to say who sent her here.
I tilt my head. "Lady Nagant, while I’d love to assist, I’m sure you understand this is a rather delicate situation. And without knowing who you're working with, I can’t in good conscience agree to anything."
She merely nods, as if expecting that, and hands me a folded paper.
Saying nothing more, she waits.
I unfold the paper, reading its contents in silence. My smile fades with every word, my usual playful expression replaced by cold calculation.
They know about All Might’s battle with AFO.
That alone is alarming—but not impossible. Perhaps they witnessed it, or spoke to someone who did.
But then, the letter mentions something far more concerning.
Nana Shimura.
I narrow my eyes. Do they know about One For All? If not, why bring her up? And if they do...
I exhale slowly, processing the implications.
In the end, there’s only one answer. I need to meet them.
They've made it clear: the information will only be revealed after we bring the HPSC's deeds to light and ensure Lady Nagant's and thier safety. They said that is sufficient.
I smile once again, turning my attention back to Lady Nagant.
"Upon further consideration, I’d be delighted to assist you." I pick up my teacup once more, already planning my next steps. "Let’s discuss the finer details while I arrange a press conference... and call in some old friends."
I sigh, already envisioning the mountain of work ahead.
