Why Do We Fall, Mawla?

It's funny how back-and-forth desire can be.

A man may claim one thing, yet not even a moment later he claims that the opposite is true. Or is it just human nature? I don't know. For instance, a man may complain that his computer isn't working fast enough, but the next minute he might say that everything is too fast or complicated and he can't understand it. On one hand, it's a fact of life like I said. On the other, it is annoying as hell; both for any bystanders and even the complainer himself.

Case in point: after the half-screwed job I completed thanks to Dabi's intel, he hasn't sent any news about other potential targets. This wouldn't normally concern me, I of all people know that getting good intel isn't something that can be done easily. Especially if he took my…little suggestion to heart. Even without him, I could still dig up my intel. It's what I've been doing up until I met him, after all.

And that's what I would be doing if it wasn't for two things:

One, while he may not have sent me anything about new targets, he did send me a warning; the criminal underworld had become incredibly agitated at my latest round of killings. This is good, but it also had the side-effect of making everyone else retreat into their holes. Even the idiots at the Nine Rings Bar were more tight-lipped than usual, which meant I couldn't poke around too much lest they get suspicious…even if most of the time they're too drunk and/or high to notice.

Two, which was a more immediate reason: Mom called me an hour ago, saying she was going to finish early at the firm. So here I am, awaiting the return of my dear mother, spending the time by casually wandering through Skyrim.

Hmm…I should revisit the Thief's Guild or look up the Dark Brotherhood questline. Might get some new ideas.

'Is this truly the most productive use of thy time, contractor?'

I hold in my mental grumbling. 'I just don't want Mom to suddenly walk in on my training and start asking questions.'

'A concern to be noted, true. But there are many ways which thou can practice without arousing suspicion from thy madar.'

'Really?' I ask as my Argonian cuts down an annoying pack of wolves. 'I don't know…I mean, it'll be awkward to start something only for Mom to come in moments later and stop it.'

A low growl fills my ears. 'Laziness is unbecoming of thee, contractor.'

I move to refute his statement, but I stop myself and sigh. Not much point in hiding facts from someone who's in my head all the time. Besides, it's Mawla.

'Okay fine, maybe I am feeling a bit lazy.' I pause the game and lean back on the chair. 'I just…I'm afraid I'll start getting all antsy if I practice now. Dabi hasn't given me anything new and the scum are all in their hidey-holes. The last thing we heard about any murders or the like was some schmuck that Endeavor took down. Hardly a need to intervene there.

Just saying, I might as well de-stress from this a bit.'

Mawla grumbles again, not that I blame him. 'That is still no excuse for laziness.'

Yeah, maybe I am feeling a bit lazy. 'Well, what do you suggest?'

I hear nothing from him for a few moments before he speaks up again. 'There is something I would recommend to thee if restlessness plagues thy spirit. It is-'

"I'm home!"

I turn towards my bedroom door at the sound of Mom's voice. 'Later.' I get up from the chair and walk into the kitchen, where Mom is placing several grocery bags on the counter. She picks up on my footsteps and looks at me with a smile.

"Welcome back," I say, peering over the kitchen counter. "What did you get?"

"I was thinking of making some ribs. Noticed them on the meat counter and I couldn't help myself. What do you think?"

I give her a thumbs-up and a grin. "Ribs sound great!"

She chuckles and rolls up her sleeves. "That's what I like to hear. Now, help me get started on this so we can eat before it gets too late."

Wordlessly, I nod and start pulling out ingredients from the bags. As she prepares the meat and some vegetables, I make the sauce. It was a recipe we pulled from the internet, it had not too long of a cooking time and the results were good.

Except for the one time it came out breathing. But in our defense, the oven was acting screwy.

"So, how's it been lately?"

I shrug as I toss paprika into the bowl. "Nothing much. Just waiting out the days before my inevitable return to the factory that is high school. I already have all the new supplies."

"Heh. That's it though? You spend a lot of time outside. Don't tell me all of that is in the gym."

"Hell no," I scoff as I formulate an answer in my head, something that won't trigger her Quirk. "I've been…going around Tokyo."

"'Going around Tokyo'?" She asks. Even though I am focused on the sauce, I can feel her eyebrow rising.

"Well, I noticed that Tokyo is…big." Yes Ritsu, and water is wet. What an intelligent remark. "And I've noticed that I haven't seen much of it outside the school area, this neighborhood, or any place we've been to together. So I thought, why not take some trips through the city?"

She pauses her meat-cutting and I inwardly tense. What I said wasn't a total lie; as I've been going around assassinating, I've noticed how little I knew about Tokyo. Justified since, like I just said, Tokyo is fucking huge. So big it might as well be multiple cities jammed together or a micro-nation like Singapore. And that's barely counting the suburbs as well. So I've acquainted myself as much as I could with any new area I visited, though mostly to the surrounding areas of my targets.

I glance at her, seeing her thoughtful look. She then nods and returns to the meat, the knot in my chest loosening. "Sounds fun. I don't think I've seen a lot of Tokyo either. Even back in Nagoya, I didn't know all of the city. Did you see anything interesting?"

Interesting is certainly one way to put it. "Oh yeah. Sometimes I asked myself why I didn't know about those places sooner."

As usual, she's quick to pick up the rest. "And the other times?"

The cage. Children huddled in the corner. The stench. The blood.

"I…try to keep those out of my mind. You wouldn't believe the kind of places people live in." I taste the sauce. Perfection. "Oh wait, don't you work with those types of people?"

She shoots me a look, but then just sighs and shakes her head. "Cheeky brat."

I smile and hand her the sauce bowl. Wordlessly, she takes a teaspoon and tastes it before nodding. She then proceeds to take a bigger spoon and lather the meat with it.

As she prepares the meat for the oven, I try and think of a question of my own. Hmm…what could be a good –

"So you haven't been spending time with this Jiro? Ritsu, I'm disappointed."

I shoot her a deadpan glare. "I'm not entirely comfortable with spending a day with someone who I know mostly through the phone. That, and she lives in Shizuoka."

She turns to me and raises an eyebrow. "…your point being?"

I open my mouth to explain, but I recognize that gleam in her eye just in time. The last thing I want to do is for her to go into lawyer-mode and utterly wreck all of my arguments. Mawla does that enough.

Her lips form into a righteous grin. "That's right. Know when you are outmatched, child of mine. It'll save you a lot of headaches in the future."

Ouch. That was a…what's the word? 'Normie' remark if I ever heard one. "This coming from the woman whose job can have her defend even the most obviously guilty of people?"

"I said it'll save you a lot of headaches, not me." She sighs and looks down. "Believe me, in those cases I'd gladly throw them to the sharks."

I ignore the shiver of verbal victory as I take in my mother's posture. At first, it doesn't look like any other time that she comes home from work; exhausted slump, slightly messy hair, and crinkled suit (with apron). But there's something in her expression I just can't seem to put into words. And from the way her hands were gripping the table…

"Did something happen at work?"

"Hm?" She blinks and shakes her head, letting out a chuckle. "It's nothing. Just pedestrian lawyer business, as you would say."

This time, I raise my eyebrow. "Really?" I ask, crossing my arms. She meets my stare for a few more moments before sighing again "Since when can you give me that look?"

"What can I say, I learned from the best." It also helps to up your intimidation factor when questioning criminals, though I suspect the glowing blue eyes and altered voice do most of the work.

Her lips twitch upwards. "Heh. What the heck, I might as well. I've been looking for a way to vent it outside of work." She leans on the counter and stares up at the ceiling.

"I've recently gotten a case dropped on my desk that's proving to be a bit of a headache."

"More than usual?"

"More than usual. What's causing the headache are both the accusations…and towards whom they're directed at." She removes her gaze from the ceiling and starts idly tapping the counter. "It's a domestic violence allegation."

I blink. Domestic violence? That's… "Isn't that kind of thing left to the police?"

"It was. But both sides claimed they wanted secrecy from the public, so it was referred to us under discretion."

"Aren't you breaking that discretion by telling me?"

"Eh, probably."

I ignore that comment and keep talking. "What else is the problem?"

Her eyes narrow and a dark look flashes over her face. "Domestic abuse cases are tricky. Without any direct evidence like physical marks or a media piece, it makes them difficult to prove in court. And there's always the legal tricks we pull, for both sides of the case. Because of that, it's better for the issue to be dealt with in the mediation phase before the parties take the case to trial."

I idly tap my chin. "Mediation phase…correct me if I'm wrong, but that's the phase where people say they settle cases, right?"

She nods. "Exactly. Unfortunately, that's where it gets…grating to say the least."

Okay, I must admit this sounds a bit interesting. "Who's your client?"

"The accuser; she's a twenty-something girl. She's very shaken up, not that I blame her."

"And the accused?"

The dark look returns twofold. "Rintaro Fuwa. Some bigshot TV personality. Hosts a reality show for housewives."

A celebrity? That explains the secrecy. "Never heard of him."

"I'd be surprised if you have; most of the focus goes to Pro Hero hosts with shows like that. Still, he's kind of a big shot in those circles, so he has a lot of star power – with all the legal mess attached." She pulls out her phone and types in something before showing me a picture. Slicked back brown hair, a flawless face, chestnut eyes, and a warm smile, all dressed up in a suit and pinstripe. The kind of guy some of the girls in my school would swoon over and melt into puddles at his presence.

I didn't like him already.

"So a celebrity got violent with his wife and now he's trying to cover it up. How is this new or exceptional?"

"That's not his wife."

I blink again. Not his wife? "An ex then?"

"Mostly. From what she told me, they dated for some time before he got married. And during that time he was…violent, to say the least. Now she's gathered the courage to speak up about it."

"Let me guess, he's saying she's exaggerating all of it and there's some sort of misunderstanding?"

"More or less. But there's something else. Whenever we meet to discuss the issue…the way he talks…" she shudders. "He plays on her emotions, brings up the 'good times' they had before going into this sorrowful voice…I've seen lawyers like that, and fighting a Villain barehanded seems to be easier. If it wasn't for my Quirk breaking my bullshit radar…" Her grip on the counter intensifies. "And if he's not bad enough, his lawyer just makes him leagues worse."

Wow. I don't think I've heard Mom rant like this in…well, not in recent memory. "A slimeball?"

"Not just a slimeball; a slimeball not even other lawyers like." I let out a whistle. That was something noteworthy. "He has an infamous reputation for cases like this and a good track record of doing it, unfortunately. Every time I see him I just want to rip off that smug-ass look off his face and-" She stops herself and takes a deep breath. "A match made in hell if there ever was one. And the way they both keep looking at us…" She pauses again before huffing and pulling some stray hairs from over her eyes.

She turns to me and flashes me a quick smile. "But I won't let that stop me. Men like them always have some kind of slip-up to hide. I just need to find it and they'll go crawling back to whatever hole they came from."

Ah, that's the mother I know.

She glances at the oven timer. "Why don't you scamper on back to your room while this thing cooks. It'll be a while, so there's no point in lounging around here."

"Are you sure? What about the vegetables?"

She waves me off. "I want to cut them myself; picturing them as those two smug assholes will make me feel better. Now shoo."

I nod and trudge off back to my room. As I sit back down in my chair, I ponder over her rant. She's really wound up about this, something I've never seen before. Or maybe I have and just chalked it up to usual lawyer stress?

But one sentence sticks out in my mind.

"And the way they both keep looking at us…"

I feel narrow and a hiss escapes from my lips. If that was what I think she meant…

Not in this lifetime.

I open a new browser and start typing in the search engine.

'I take it then thou hast found a new mission, contractor?'

'Damn right I have' I reply as I look over the results. Turns out this Fuwa is a little more high-profile than I thought. Yes, he does run a housewives' talk show and sold some family-related books (one of them was apparently part of the bestseller list – why, I have no clue), but there must be a lot of housewives out there because he was voted "Top Talk Show Host" last year by…okay, not important.

'Care to enlighten this old wraith as to thy plans?'

'Nothing too major for now. I just want to see how much of a jerk he is,' I open up Youtube and type in some more things. 'For now, I think a simple scouting will do.'

'Already judging? Art thou not concerned about rushing to conclusions?'

I pause for a moment, then shake my head. 'No. Okay, maybe a little, but this is my Mom we're talking about. It takes a lot to really get under her skin and that rant was no joke.' I spot a video and click it. As it starts playing, I feel a grin growing on my lips. 'Well, thankfully for me this guy has his own online channel, and if 'My Family Life' doesn't sound like a perfect source to find his living place, I don't know what is.'

But as I take a closer look at the building where this guy supposedly lives, the sound of silverware from the kitchen snaps me back to reality. 'Shit. I can't go out now. But maybe…' I pause, then shake my head. 'Nah. It'll just have to wait until tomorrow. Better yet, I can find the broadcasting station and follow him from there.' I type in the show's name and sure enough, there was a link to the broadcasting studio.

'Perfect. Looks like I have tomorrow all planned out. What do you think, Mawla?'

No reply. Huh. 'Mawla?'

'…acceptable.'

'Is something wrong with it?'

'No. This wraith was merely musing on other matters; irrelevant to thee for now. I approve.'

Well, that settled it then. Tomorrow, I'll see who has the balls to try and leer at my mother.

But for now? I'll just enjoy some ribs. I hope I didn't add too much salt.

-x-

The next morning, I awake to find the house empty and a note from Mom saying she got an urgent call and had to leave early. While I was slightly disappointed, that meant I could fully focus on my new mission.

Pulling up Fuwa's name again on the search engine, I look at his show's runtimes. They're all live broadcasts, so it's next to guaranteed I'll spot him at his studio. The only hitch in the plan was that the show started at 13:00 and ran for about an hour, so…I glance at the clock. 9:50. I'd have to wait a little before heading out. No matter. At least I can fix myself a good breakfast.

As I pull out an egg and the frying pan, I feel Hassan's presence in my head. 'Sobh bekhir, Mawla.'

I'm pretty sure I got it right, but Persian was far more different than English. A few words and phrases won't cut it though, Mawla has made that clear.

'Sobh bekhir, shagard. I take it then thou intend to go through with thy plan today?'

'Yep. Like you said, no need to get lazy with this' I reply, mixing the yolk and white in a small bowl. 'Let's hope for his sake that he's just some creep. By the way, what did you want to tell me yesterday?'

'…as I have said, it is nothing. For now, focus on thine mission. Khodâ negahdâr and may thy blade strike true.'

Hm. Strange. I consider pressing him for a moment before shaking my head. If it's anything like our training sessions, he won't budge. Oh well.

Once I eat my omelet – could've used some cheese – I look up the studio's location on my phone as well as his home address through that video clip on his channel. Oh comment section, you might be full of garbage, but even a stray gem can pop out from time to time.

After making sure everything is in order, I head to Hosu. I do some exercises with Mawla's assistance for a bit before I check my phone. It's time. So one Concealed train ride plus walk later and I'm now standing in front of a tall network building somewhere in Mitaka City. Security itself is a joke – just a couple of guards and I'm sure a few cameras are hidden somewhere, but nothing I can't handle; not even a single metal detector.

I slip past the guards and take a look around. Now, let's see where…a-ha! A sign pointing up saying 'studio', with a glowing 'on air' sign beneath it. Jackpot!

I slip into a staircase and activate my Quirk. Two floors up and I can hear talking. It's a bit faint, but I can make out two voices: one excited female and one calm male. So unless I've stumbled into some peppy assistant…

I open the door and grin. A set of double doors with the glowing 'on air' sign above them.

Carefully slipping inside, I take a good look at the room. There in front of me is a large open stage area, filled with people aiming an assortment of cameras, microphones, and lights on a…what's the word for it? The background and desk you always see behind newscasters and TV show hosts. Ah! A set. And arranged in an amphitheater-like fashion were rows of seats filled with middle-aged to old women.

"Well, I have to admit that from what you're describing your household life isn't that different from most people, even mine."

And that must be Rintaro Fuwa himself. Just like in the image Mom showed me and the ones I saw on the internet; tall, charming smile, sharp suit – the kind of guy you think is so perfect that he cannot be real. Who's biased now?

The woman next to him, bearing blond locks and a dark scalp-top, shrugged with a smile. "I must admit that most of my girlfriends are all in the same circle so I can't really compare. But it's nothing too special; I'm sure police officers' wives and husbands go through the same thing."

"Well, when you put it that way it does make sense. Still, I would've thought that the wife of a Pro Hero would experience more excitement in their life."

I raise an eyebrow. This guy's prominent enough to be granted an interview with a Pro Hero's family? From what I heard from my gossiping classmates, there are all kinds of procedures that a show needs to go through for such an interview, to ensure the safety of both the interviewee, the Pro, the host and anyone else involved. If he can do this kind of interview even during a lawsuit, then maybe Mom was understating his star power.

"I think that I don't need more excitement in my life, Fuwa-san-"

"Rintaro, please" he cuts her off smoothly, that smile still plastered on his face. "Anyone interviewed on my show is a friend."

The wife nods acceptingly. "Alright, Rintaro-san. But I don't need more excitement in my life. I'm aware of how dangerous my husband's work can get, and having a kid with you does not make it easier." Her smile grows softer as she slightly looks down. "But every time that my husband comes home, everything feels alright again. We put his job away until the next shift or emergency, we play with our child, eat and sleep together…in my mind, those moments are greater than any life a celebrity can have."

A collective "aww" draws from the crowd as Fuwa inclines his head. "Well, when you put it like that, how can I argue?" He turns to the female crowd and the cameras. "Before we sign off for today, let's give a round of applause to Mrs. Takagi for coming here! And remember…" he flings his hair back and to my surprise, sparkles – actual sparkles, like the ones you see around pretty characters in anime! – flash around him. "Family is forever!"

Loud reality TV music blares from overhead speakers and the crowd stands up in applause, screeching like fangirls at a teen idol concert and snapping me out of my stupor. To my credit, my wince lasted for three seconds before I shook myself free. If my Quirk was active that time, I might've gone blind.

But sparkles? Come on! This guy isn't just some pretty boy – he's like their fucking embodiment!

As personnel begin to usher the crowd away from the set, I take my chance and slip up close to Fuwa. After exchanging pleasantries and goodbyes with the wife, he heads towards another exit accompanied by two suited men. Following them, I listen in to their conversation.

"An excellent show today, Fuwa-san!" says Flunky #1, handing the man a bottle of water. "Ratings will go through the roof for sure!"

"You can say that again!" replies Flunky #2 as Fuwa chugs its contents down. "Combined with the sales on your book, you'll be a shoo-in for the next TV awards!"

"Those are indeed great news. I'm sure both my sales agent and the studio head will be thrilled with the extra cash." Removing the bottle from his lips, the TV host slicks back a stray lock of hair. "But the important thing is that the public's connection to the Heroes grows ever closer. Even with the modern age of the internet and social media, there is still a gap of comprehension between the lives of the Pros and the lives of us ordinary citizens. This interview is but a step in the right direction to show that the Heroes are just like us in private, people with lives and experiences who deal with the flow of the day-to-day. They might have more spice in their life, but ultimately they can be – and should be – relatable."

Wow. Did he practice that in front of the mirror?

"Such inspiring words!"

"As expected from our Fuwa-san!"

The man simply waves them off. "It is a simple truth. Now, is there anything else for today? The review should come by tomorrow morning."

Flunky #2 pulls out a phone from a bag. "Actually, you had an incoming call. Something about your legal representative?"

Fuwa stops mid-step. It's only for a second, but I see his hand twitch. Then his posture relaxes and he lets out a chuckle. "Ah, that. I was such a call earlier but there must have been a delay. Thank you."

As the host plucks the phone away and opens it, the two flunkies share a look. "Is everything alright, Fuwa-san? Why would a lawyer contact you?"

He shakes his head and waves them off again. "It is a trifle legal formality that I had to go through to secure the interview. He must be calling me to remind me of some clause in the NDA I signed. Why don't you two retire from my side for today? I'll have any important calls forwarded to me personally. Oh, and make a note for my agent to ease on the ikumen title. I am just doing what any parent should do."

While #2 gives him a hesitant look, #1 bows slightly with a "thank you" and drags his partner away. As the two men walk away, I quietly approach the show host close enough to get a look at his face. His smile's still there, but his whole expression seems tighter.

As he presses something on his phone and raises it to his ear, I activate my Quirk once again. To be honest, I don't know if this will work; I've never tried listening in to a call (or more accurately, the person who isn't physically present) and I don't want to move too close to him, so I might need to piece this together myself. No matter.

"You called?"

"Yes. Sorry about the delay, I had an extended call with another client." Great! The volume must be high enough for me to hear.

"What other client? I thought you said I had your full services for this one."

"That is none of your concern. Rest assured, your case is top priority for me."

"It had better, with the money I'm paying you. How goes convincing the girl?"

"She faltered today, but she still won't budge. That attorney bitch of hers must be giving her spinal injections."

Did he just…? Oh no, he didn't. Still, I hold myself back.

Fuwa grits his teeth. "I don't care if her spine becomes titanium, I need for her to shut up! Can't you manage at least one meeting without me!?"

"It's fine. She still doesn't have much to prove outside the physical scars."

"That can still be damning evidence and you know it!"

"Depends on the judge. Still, I will admit that she folds much easier when you are around. I hope that you'll be present for the next meeting. I'll even schedule it after your work hours."

His smile returns, but instead of that tension, it becomes…unnerving. Kind of like the time I met Dabi except this one is sending a stronger chill down my spine. "Thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me. And you are correct that both of the bitches are proving difficult." His voice drops lower. "I have some contacts that specialize in this sort of matter. Depending on how the meeting will go, I might contact them to…speed up the process."

…

…

"Will it be entertaining at least?"

He lets out a dark chuckle. "Do you want it to be? They're not averse to taking requests."

I can feel the ibn al-kalb grin. "I'll send it written. I do hope we continue doing business after this, I find it refreshing."

"I'd say it's a pleasure, but I'd be partially lying. A family man like me has standards to meet. See you tomorrow." He shuts off the phone and walks off, that sick grin still on his perfect face, fitting him even better than the one he showed on the set.

"Hmph. Women. Either sex machines or pains in my ass. Who do these whores think they are? Just because one fucked me and the other has a suit and tie doesn't mean they get to ruin me. But they'll see. I know how to play them. They can also be like a piano; if you know how to play the melody, then everyone in the ballroom will dance to your tune." He pauses to look up and clenches his fist, drawing a low breath. "Of course, a little outside force might be needed, but in the end it's all the same."

He then keeps walking, his tone turning giddy. "I'm the one who'll stay at the top and live the life, while wenches like those will go die in a corner or get fucked to submission. I can't get ruined by them, 'cause after all…" He flicks his hair back and those sparkles appear once again. "Family is forever. And I'm the best example of family there is."

He finally walks out of eyesight, disappearing around a corner.

…

…

…

Words fail me. Nothing comes out. Like my throat has dried.

I barely notice my fists as they clench so hard it seems like they would draw blood. I don't feel my teeth as they grind to such levels as they might shatter. I give little to no thought to the lights around me which had begun flickering on and off.

The only thing in my are the piles of verbal excrement that this ibn al-kalb dared to spew about my mother.

Without thinking, I draw my dagger and stomp down the hall, intending to find this waste of life and gut him like a fish as his voice tears across the wall like glass and `arwah anitqam fasidan u ra mi - (*)

"CONTRACTOR, CEASE THY ACTIONS!"

The next moment, the hallway disappears and the Valley of Death forms around me. In a burst of azure flame, The Old Man of the Mountain appears before me, his eyes burning with the same shade.

At any other time, I would have stopped everything and listened.

"Mawla, not now."

He looks me in the eye and I meet his gaze head-on. "I feel thy rage, child. But I am stopping thee from making a mistake."

My mouth drops in shock for a moment. "A mistake? A mistake!? How the fuck is not stabbing this guy 'till he's a pincushion a mistake!?"

Not giving him a moment to respond, I step closer to his massive form. "Did you not hear what he just said? What this piece of human shit that calls itself a lawyer said!? What he threatened to do to my mother!?"

My voice is loud and high, and I might need a good swig of water, but I don't care right now. "TELL ME ONE GOOD REASON WHY I SHOULDN'T GO UP TO HIM AND DO WHAT I ALWAYS DO, WHAT YOU TAUGHT ME TO DO, TO SCUMBAGS LIKE HIM FOR THREATENING THE ONE HUMAN BEING ALIVE I GIVE A DAMN ABOUT!?"

My chest heaves up and down and I feel sweat starting to form around the mask. He doesn't reply. Good, maybe now he'll see that-

His eyes flash red and I fall to my knees.

It's unbearable. Just like when we first met and he revealed to me his identity. An ocean of pressure slamming down on every inch of my body. I feel like I might throw up. Or that my bones will shatter to dust.

Despite that. Despite the overwhelming pain, I bring myself to look up and meet my teacher's stare once again. Bit by bit, millimeter by millimeter.

I won't budge from this. Not until he at least explains.

I finally do it and stare into his red eyes. They illuminate his mask, normally shadowed by the hood. With every second I stare, I feel myself dying.

I still don't budge.

Finally, after what seems like hours, the red glow ceases and the pressure dissipates to nothingness. I collapse on the ground, wheezing.

"Art thou done, child?"

Child. That word stings more than any insult. "Yes," I whisper.

"Good. As I was saying, thy rage is understandable. The filth has insulted a cherished loved one and desires to harm her. And yes, I have taught thee to deliver swift retribution unto those who Allah has condemned to Jahanam for their evil. But I have also taught thee caution. How to ensure that thy actions do not cause thy downfall. And what thou were about to do might have spelled disaster for thee."

"…how?"

"I would normally ask thee to figure it out thyself, but thy powers of deduction seem to be impaired at the moment, so I shall help thee this one time. First, let us consider that thy blade ends this filth's life here in this building. Hiding his corpse will prove very difficult to impossible, considering his fame. The police come and an investigation occurs. It might take some guessing, but they will know it is Shinigami who has done the deed. They add him to thy body count."

I want to reply, but I keep my mouth shut.

"Now that such a famous man is dead, one with ties to the Pro Heroes no less, people will begin asking questions. Why? Who would wish harm upon such a beloved man? And who do you think might chime in to satisfy their lust, both carnal and otherwise?"

I draw in a sharp breath. "The lawyer."

"Yes. He will say that he has been working on a case with him against thy madar and her client. The authorities question them and they deny knowledge of any killings. They might suspect the client more if her stories of abuse are true. Thy madar will most likely be shielded from the fallout considering her profession. But they will keep investigating. And what happens when both of them are found clean of any suspicion? Where will the police turn to?"

"…anyone related to them." Shit. "And with few people that can match Shinigami's profile, even if the Quirk is all wrong…" I look down. How did I not think of this!?

"Of course, it is also possible that they will not suspect thee at all. It is also possible that they might not link thy madar to the killing and focus on the client. It is also likely that the lawyer will say nothing as he is no longer being paid to defend him. The question is, child…" he leans down and his eyes narrow."Can thou take the risk?"

I stare down and dig my hands into the grey sands. God-fucking-damn-it. "No."

Silence. Nothing but the wind wisping through the Valley.

He's right. In one move, I could not only have compromised my identity but also risked my mother's well-being. I slowly let out a breath, letting my chest slump forward. "I'm sorry."

"Dost thou not remember thy words? 'Sorry' is but a word. If thou wish to atone-"

"-I must do it through my actions." I slowly stand up and meet his gaze once more. But not in rage this time. It's still there, no doubt about it. But I'm an Assassin. Not a raging beast.

"What should I do then?"

The founder of the Assassins hums, tapping the hilt of his massive blade. "For now, resume observing him and follow him to his domicile. Once thou have confirmed his location, find a secluded spot and return to the Valley. There is something that, in light of these events, I must teach thee."

"Understood."

He raises his arm and waves. "Go. May Allah protect and guide thee."

The Valley fades from view and the corridor returns. I blink and quickly take in my surroundings again. Nothing has changed other than some broken fluorescent lights above me. Did I do that? I shake my head. Not important. I tighten my Concealment and walk down the hall, my mind sharper than a needle. It's time to track a dog.

-x-

Thankfully, Rintaro Fuwa hadn't left the building yet. He was idly chatting with some co-workers and talking about something or other that I really didn't give a damn about. While I watched him, I helped myself to some pastries lying around in the room they were in and a swig of water. All that rage took a number on me and my omelet was long depleted from my reserves. Note to self: add water canteen/bottle to suit.

He stayed there for another hour before he headed outside. I swiftly follow him and see there's a car with a valet waiting for him. That won't do; I can't follow him in a car. So one Concealed rope-shot from my gauntlet later and…

"I can't believe this!" He hisses. "Did you not check the air today? I cannot be late to my wife!"

The poor valet tries to say something, but the show host cuts him off. "Never mind. I'll just have to go incognito today." He pulls out a pair of dark sunglasses and a face mask. Slipping them on without anyone noticing, he heads down the street.

I have to admit; his disguise is okay. Blending in plain sight indeed. Especially with that disgustingly perfect face. But he's also hard to lose like that.

So a train ride later, I soon find myself in front of a building that's clearly different than the one in the video. In hindsight though, it makes sense. A celebrity like him wouldn't want his home life to be fully revealed. Or accurate.

Hypocrite.

I keep following him through the doors and up the elevator. Not once does he suspect my presence. But once he knocks on his apartment door, I stop. I'd have no way of getting out of there without arousing suspicion, especially on a high floor such as this.

So once he enters, I press my Quirk-enhanced ear to the door.

Now, a man would like to think that despite the utterly shitty way he talked in the hallway, he would be at least decent to his wife and the mother of his children. Hoo-boy, they would be so wrong.

"You expect me to eat this prepacked crap? After all the work I've put in for this household?"

"…I'm sorry."

"Tch. Excuses."

And that's just when the children are in there.

"Why the fuck did it take you this long to get them to study!? Did you not forget the optimal study time!?"

"…I'm sorry."

I hear a slam and it takes everything I have not to burst in.

"I don't want to do this…BUT I HAVE TO EDUCATE YOU!"

SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

I grip the door and slowly hiss. Remain fucking calm Ritsu, this bastard will get his due.

"Now, who's at fault here?"

"…m-me. I'm so so-sorry."

"That's right. And I'm the one who's helping you. Don't worry, we'll get through this together. Do you know why?"

"…f-family is forever."

Clothes rustling and a belt buckle.

"That's right."

Is he actually doing what I –

"Contractor, leave."

I dash back to the elevator and go down. All the while the horrible thoughts rampage in my head.

He actually raped her. Married couple or not, that was rape. And I ran.

At least I hope that the children's doors were locked.

God, I'm gonna throw up.

In fact, that's what I almost do before I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. I turn my head and see that Mawla's form manifested behind me.

"Do not despair, contractor mine. Few crimes are more abhorrent than rape. But I swear to thee, I shall help thee deliver him to Shaytan and his ilk. I have not let you down before, have I not?"

I shake my head. He nods approvingly and lets go of my shoulder. "Find somewhere secluded, then return to the Valley."

The elevator dings and I rush outside. Quickly snapping a picture of the address, I run down some blocks before stopping to catch my breath. Once I do so, I take a look around. There is a small gated park next to me, the kind one sees all around Tokyo, filled with trees and benches and the like. No one is there besides a couple of old ladies.

This should do.

I enter and sit under the shadow of a tree. I close my eyes and imagine the Valley once more. A few seconds later, I no longer hear the park's sounds.

I open my eyes and Hassan greets me once again. Only this time, he is sitting cross-legged on one end of a red carpet, his sword stabbed through the ground behind him, and his face inclined downwards. Ignoring the question of where did the carpet come from (for now), I approach him.

He gestures wordlessly to the carpet end and I take a seat, assuming the same position. A bit uncomfortable, not that I'm gonna say that.

"Good. It is for discipline. And this is a rug, not a carpet."

His face rises and the fiery blue eyes return. "Today I shall be teaching thee an important tool of focus, one that shall aid thee on many missions to come: meditation."

I stifle any loud thoughts and ask: "Meditation? Haven't you taught that to me in our first lessons?"

"Perhaps I should rephrase myself; I shall be teaching thee a new form of meditation."

I nod, gesturing for him to continue.

"It is a technique I picked up from my time in Kahir, refined throughout my years in Alamut. Tell me, do thou know of the Sufi?"

Sufi…that name rings a bell. "They're another sect of Islam, right? Like Sunni and Shia?"

"Correct. Unlike most Islamic sects, Sufism is deeply tied to the mystic aspects of Islam. Many considered them heretics, and so did I. It was only after learning this technique, however, did I acknowledge that they might not have strayed from Allah after all."

An interesting lesson, one that I would gladly take notes of, but where is he going with this?

"The technique is called Muraqabah. It cleans their mind and soul of ills, freeing them from trappings. By doing so, it allows a person to gain…insight as to their surroundings and their connection to Allah above and below. Performing this meditation will clear thy and sharpen it like a whetstone, improving thy concentration and if properly practiced, improve thy battle prowess."

I lean forward. "How so?"

"Depends on the person. The version I created was practiced routinely by my order and it had varying effects. But enhanced speed and reflexes were common, along with an improvement in Concealment. I suspect that it might be true in thy case."

My lips twitch upwards. That sounded very nice.

"But that is for later. Thy first attempt will be to purge the doubts and regrets thou have regarding this mission. If thou art to deliver retribution, it shall be done with a clear head."

Sounds great. Only one problem. "I'm not religious. Might be hard to connect to Allah if I don't worship him." I mean, I do go to shrines with Mom (the last time we went to a shrine this New Year's, Hassan was silent the whole day). And I occasionally pay my respects, but I'm not religious. Especially not Hassan's level of religious devotion. Also, I'm not Muslim.

Thankfully, he nods gracefully, which is a relief; belief is a topic I'd rather not touch for now. "True. This is why instead of focusing on thy connection to Allah, thou shall focus on thy connection to the Valley of Death. In fact, I do not believe that there is a better place than here for thee to feel that connection. Art thou ready?"

To be honest, I have a shit-ton more questions. But now's not the time. The things that I heard today flash before my mind's eye.

I look up and nod resolutely. "Yes."

Letting out a hum, Mawla speaks once more. "Close thy eyes and take deep breaths. Do not force thy breath; let it flow naturally."

In. Out. In. Out.

"Listen to the Valley. Allow it winds to caress thee. Hear the sands shift and the shades whisper."

In. Out. In. Out.

"Attempt to Conceal thyself. Allow the darkness to envelop thee. Take it all in, focus on as much as thou can, until thou hear no more."

In. Out. In. Out.

"Feel the Valley cocoon thee in its embrace. Know that whenever thou desire peace and serenity, the Valley shall always answer to thee, as it had done to thy predecessors many times before."

In. Out. In. Out.

"Let thy woes wash away. Let them be cleared from thy mind so that the path to thy goal will reveal itself."

In. Out. In. Out.

In. Out. In. Out.

"Thou art a blade. Thou work in the shadows so that light may shine, and that the dark will not befoul it with its taint."

In. Out. In. Out.

In. Out. In. Out.

In. Out. In. Out.

"Find the blade's path and…see."

…

…

…

I open my eyes. Mawla's stare meets them.

"Have thou found the path to victory?"

"I have." I still need a lot to process, but I have.

"What is the path?"

I can't help the grin that was starting to form on my lips.

"For starters, I need to make a phone call."

-x-

Ugh…what…where…

My vision's blurry. I feel cold. I can't move.

"Argh…" Someone else is with me? Who…?

I open my eyes fully and my vision refocuses. Four dirty walls surround me, lit only by a pair of fluorescent lights. I try to get up, but I can't seem to move. I look down and my eyes widen at the zip ties wrapped around my ankles and…my wrists!

"Wh-what the fuck is going on!?"

The familiar voice speaks my thoughts. "Oi, is that you?"

Someone bumps against the back of my chair. Chair. Chair, yes, I'm tied to a chair. "Fuwa? What the fuck are you doing here!? And where are we!?"

"Fuck if I know!"

Shit, shit. I try to move around, but the restraints are tight. I take another look around and see that there's a single door at the other end of the room. Yes! Escape!

It opens.

No one comes through.

Is this some kind of prank? Because if it is, then this is one sick-

"Greetings, scum."

I freeze. Where is that voice coming from? I didn't see any speakers.

"You are no doubt wondering why and how you are here. Well, rest assured we will both get down to that in a moment. Tell me Fuwa-san, what's the last thing you remember?"

"Who-who the fuck are you!?"

I want to scream at this fucker more but the cold feeling of a blade under my eye stops me in my tracks. "Ah, ah, ah. That was not the correct answer. So unless you want your head ripped clean off your shoulders, I suggest that you change that."

I grit my teeth and the blade is pushed a little further. "I…I remember going to the toilet. It was after work and the stupid valet blew the tires again. So I had to take the train. I met up with him on the way to the plaintiff," I gesture to the lawyer with my head. "And we both had to take a piss, but…"

"Correct! Let me say, you are much heavier than you look. Especially your worthless flesh sack of an attorney here. Thankfully, two sets of arms are better than one here. But I digress.

You are both some of the worst types of human beings imaginable. You prey on women and play with them like toys, discarding them once you grow tired of their bodies. If any of them try to stop you, you reduce them to nothing more than hollow shells of their former selves. You, Rintaro Fuwa, are the worst of this duo. You beat your wife for supporting you as much as she can before proceeding to defile her in ways no man should ever do, especially not the mother of his children. I wouldn't be surprised if you even have an affair. That would better fit a dog like you."

With each word he says, I feel the blood rush down to my feet. He…what…how did he know!? Did that bitch finally have the guts to rat him out?

No. The police and Pro-Heroes would never act like this.

"No words?"

He could hear the pathetic lawyer blubbering with fear. Would he piss his pants too?

"You…you can't do this to me. I'm a celebrity TV host. The police, they'll come looking for me."

For a moment, there is silence. Then, it happens.

"Hehehehehe. Oh, you despicable kalb, do you honestly believe that? Look around you. Does it look like the police are going to hear you?"

Both fear and anger cloud my vision. So I got rough with whores and taught my sorry excuse of a breeder a good lesson. So what!? All women are the same. It's the only way they should serve me. Who else is going to give them the time of day? If anything, they should be grateful for me! Otherwise, no man would ever want to touch them!

"Oh, and one more thing, Rintaro Fuwa. You committed an even greater crime. One that has no mitigation, reparation or forgiveness. And you will never know what it is. Because this…"

Out of the darkness he appears, still holding on to that knife. And as his form grows clearer, the dread I feel reaches its peak.

"N-no…not you…"

"…will be the last moments you both have on this earth. The evening bell has tolled by name, and the fires of hell await thee."

Of course, I've heard of him. Anyone who saw that video had. But I didn't worry, I was careful. I never got caught, not by police or a Pro-Hero. Why should this wacko be any different?

But here he is.

And the one thing that's on my mind aren't the bitches who this guy mentioned. Not even the spawn that made my book sell.

How did this happen?

"P-please. I'll pay anything."

He tilts his head at me like he's staring at some kind of bug. Then, with a soft yet mocking voice, he sings.

"La morte crudele

a tutti è infedele,

ognuno svergogna,

morire bisogna."

He places his hand on my face, and the other on the man behind me.

How did this happen? How did he catch me?

"Carve this into thy soul. My technique as the Assassin.

ZABANIYA!"

-x-

I step out of the room, ignoring the fires behind me. Making my way up the stairs, I meet him.

"Burn it."

Dabi grins and with a wave of his hand, the staircase bursts into flame. It starts out blue, but it will soon turn red. Just a normal fire.

We quickly head outside and he starts talking. "You know, when I offered to help you with these things, I didn't think you would accept so soon. But I gotta say, I wasn't wrong about your style."

I hum. "I'll take that as a compliment. Thanks for the items by the way. And the location. And helping me haul those two here."

The scarred man shrugged. "No problem. Kind of surprised you asked me for all of that."

"Were there any problems?"

He shook his head. "Zip ties are barely worth anything. Places like these are also easy to find if you know where to look...I'm just surprised no one saw us. That Quirk of yours is something else."

I didn't correct him. "Same for you. I'll have the payment ready by tonight. You can pick it up at the brick tomorrow."

"Is it from them?"

"Maybe."

He flashes me a grin.

We both keep going down the streets as the faint sounds of fire alarms begin to sound. I don't worry; by the time they'll arrive, anything noteworthy would have been burnt to ashes. A simple house fire, caused by some power lines or gas pipe failure.

We finally stop next to a dead end and I inwardly sigh in relief. Finally, that wife could properly raise her kids, the girl would have satisfaction over her abuse…and my mother would be safe. Those two will never think about doing those things to her ever again.

When I get home, I'll give her a big fat hug and we'll watch Netflix together all night.

"Although I've gotta say, if you wanted a job so much you could've asked me to work faster."

I glance at him. "I don't follow."

He blinks and tilts his head. "What do mean? You…" His eyes widen and he pulls out his phone. He types something and he shows me the screen.

"This is from a couple of days ago. People are speculating all over and most think it's you."

It showed the images of four men, sprawled out on the floor. Their necks were cut open like paper. Very much in my style. There's only one problem.

"That wasn't me."

Dabi scratches his neck and snickers. "Heh. A copycat? It ain't the Hero Killer, that's for sure."

My first instinct was to say yes. But two things stopped that:

One, killing with a knife is something anyone can do, disregarding the morality of the issue. And there are plenty of people who are stronger than average thanks to Quirks, so an enhanced knife cut is nothing remarkable.

Two, as I look closer, there is a symbol carved onto each one of the men.

A bloody yin-yang, with the kanji for 'judgment' carved underneath.

-x-

Ritsu Ogawa (Assassin - Hassan-i Sabbah)

Stats:

Strength: D+->D++

Agility: C

Endurance: D++

Mana: C++ (Only when using Power of the Valley. Otherwise, nonexistent.)

Luck: C+

Skills:

Presence Concealment D++: The ability to hide from others. A poor level for any Assassin, but against ordinary criminals and some intelligent ones it works well.

Throwing (Dagger) B and Throwing (Retrieval) B: The expertise for throwing projectile weapons; in this case, daggers. His daggers have the same destructive power as firearms when thrown, typically spelling certain death for human targets. He can retrieve them to his hand with but a mere gesture

Information Erasure C++: Erases all traces of the user's identity, physical or digital, after leaving a scene of assassination. It does not hide the user's identity in any other situation, and clues can be pieced together to deduce identity. If the user's identity is discovered, then the effects of the skill weaken. Rank increased thanks to multiple exposures outside of Presence Concealment.

Power of the Valley of Death C++: A unique connection forged as a result of finding a relic of Alamut. Assassin can draw power from the Valley to perform certain skills he would otherwise be incapable of doing.

Quirk - Super-Hearing C+: A power gained as a result of evolution. Allows the user to hear precise details within a certain range. Can extend the range in exchange for loss of detail. Also alerts the user of incoming danger provided they can react to it.

Muraqubah D+: A meditative state that enhances Ritsu's connection to the Valley. If used enough times/for long enough, combat specs have a chance of increasing. In addition, it also enables ?

Noble Phantasm:

Zabaniya - Delusional Judgment Rank C+

An 'ultimate assassination technique' bearing the same name as the angels of hell, a title which all previous 'Old Men of the Mountain' used for their own techniques. Unlike them however, who were forged by extensive modification of the Hassans' bodies, this technique is a reflection of the Assassin's desire to inflict what he deems true judgment. Calling upon his unique connection to the Valley in the Shadow of Death, Assassin drags his target's soul to the Valley, where the First Hassan awaits them. Their soul is laid bare before the Great Founder and should they be found guilty of whatever sin Assassin finds them to have committed, the flames of Gehenna will burn away their soul and body until naught but ash remains.

(*) the spirits of vengeance scorch his putrid -