48
Chapter 48: Goodbye Horses
"I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want!" Kusari sang as he drove down the empty freeway toward Deika City. "So tell me what you want, what you really really want! I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really really really wanna zigazig, ah!"
He cherished these moments that he had to himself where he could genuinely relax. He truly valued and respected his comrades, but there was no way in hell that any of them would ever let him live it down if they caught him singing along to the Spice Girls, especially Curious and Slice. He had a cool, mysterious, sadistic aura to maintain, damnit!
…After the chorus, though.
"If you wanna be my lover," Kusari continued, bopping the steering wheel while he grooved, "you gotta get with my friends! Make it last forever, friendship never eeeends! If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give! Taking is too easy, but that's the way it- WHAT THE FUCK?!"
The car came to a screeching halt, and Kusari jumped out of the car and gawked at the destruction that lay before him. Deika City was in complete shambles, whole sections of the city in ruins while the rest of it wasn't in much better shape. Absolutely befuddled, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone before dialing up the Grand Commander.
"Kusari, it's always wonderful to hear from you. I take it your mission is complete."
Kusari needed a moment to gather his words in the face of Re-Destro's completely cheerful tone. "Erm, yes, Kuzunoha Okami remains alive. Uh, permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Granted."
"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE CITY?!"
"Ah, so you've made it back to Deika. Fantastic! Come to the bunker under what's left of the tower; I made garlic ice cream for everyone."
"…Right," Kusari dumbly answered. "I'll be right there."
"So, Destro ended up failing," Shishida sullenly muttered in his seat in Nezu's office. "The system co-opted his late mother's words meant to uplift him from the society that scorned him, and then it turned around and oppressed that very same man into violent extremism."
"That's certainly not an inaccurate way of seeing it," Nezu nodded, taking a sip of his tea. "Chikara Yotsubashi's mother was a convenient means of quickly flipping the script when quirks began to become more commonplace. No longer would society's harsh rejection of the quirked be tolerated by a populace that was steadily growing into the majority, so who else than the Mother of Quirks herself to posthumously lead society into a new era of acceptance and government regulation?"
"Shameful tactics," Shishida lamented, lightly shaking the cup of tea in his hand as he mulled over the storm of thoughts wrestling around his brain. Then, he brought his gaze up to meet that of his smiling principal. "I must be honest, when you initially said that you wanted to discuss my internet habits, I was certain that I was going to be expelled."
"Oh?" Nezu replied, knowing exactly why he'd have that impression but also wanting him to verbalize his thoughts. "Why is that?"
"I, uh…" Shishida stumbled, sheepishly scratching his scalp. "I figured that delving into vaguely anarchistic ideologies was certain to raise red flags at a heroics institution."
"Under normal circumstances, that would indeed be the case," Nezu confirmed with a smile, confusing his student.
"I'm very surprised that you're not attempting to guide me away from such ideas, for lack of a better phrase," Shishida replied. "May I ask why?"
"Hero or not, I want you to be able to think for yourself and come to your own conclusions, provided that you're at least given all of the facts," Nezu responded. "It's very easy to fall into propaganda when exposed to only one skewed viewpoint. There are many out there who assume that Destro fought righteously against an oppressive regime for a humanitarian cause. There are many who believe him to be nothing more than a psychopathic terrorist who explicitly put civilians in harm's way, whether it be through indiscriminate guerrilla warfare or simply employing suicide bombers, both willing and unwilling. Like most things, the truth of the matter is somewhere in the middle."
"I see…" Shishida thoughtfully murmured. "Which camp do you fall in? Not regarding Destro specifically, but more on the matter of personal freedom versus government regulation?"
Nezu's smile grew a fraction at the question, and he lightly jostled the cup of tea in his paw. "I don't care too much for the government, Mr. Shishida, nor do I hold very fondly the bureaucrats that attempt to impose their will onto society. I do concede, however, that some manner of regulation is required for a superpowered society to function. Blanket anarchy doesn't help anyone."
"So, moderation, then?" Shishida asked. "Finding a happy medium between allowing freedom of expression and keeping society safe and orderly?"
When Nezu nodded with a hum, Shishida scratched his chin. "How do you reconcile that while overseeing an institution that trains promising youth to carry out the will of the government?"
Nezu's smile had become a grin, exposing his rows of sharp teeth in clear approval at Shishida's train of thought. "In a perfect world, I'd like for those tasked with enforcing the will of the government to use their humanity to make the best judgments. Now, of course, that statement in and of itself can carry a whole slew of different interpretations that may lead to differing outcomes, and many of those outcomes are not congruent with each other. That's the simultaneous beauty and curse of individuality."
"The duality of individuality, one might even say," Shishida nodded.
"I was avoiding that specific rhyme, but yes," Nezu lightly bristled. "Anyhow, I would prefer for hero hopefuls to be able to think for themselves first and foremost, and then be able to maintain and apply their humanity to the world they step into and seek to protect. After all, I'm cultivating future generations of responsible civil servants, not stone-cold soldiers who follow a single dogma to the letter. The HPSC has enough of those."
"I see now," Shishida nodded in understanding. "You're trying to overhaul the system from the ground up rather than from the top down-"
Suddenly, a large, red figure smashed through the wall beside Nezu's window with a shout of, "Oh yeah!" Nezu quickly leaped out of his seat and flipped over his desk in a surprising and very much unexpected show of athleticism, whereas Shishida scrambled out of his seat and scooted backward on the floor, eventually standing beside Nezu while the intruder stood across the large office, revealing himself to be…
"Is that the Kool-Aid Man?" Shishida balked.
Indeed, the intruder was, in fact, the Kool-Aid Man in casual wear. His bright yellow jacket and deep blue jean shorts clashed with the crimson liquid that filled him, but there were far more important matters afoot than his gaudy and horrifically dated choice of attire. The Kool-Aid Man was glaring daggers at the two of them, but his glare found Nezu the harshest.
"I knew that when I first sniffed out the trademark infringement but couldn't quite pinpoint the source, you would be involved, Nezu," the Kool-Aid Man growled.
"Ah, Kool-Aid," Nezu greeted, producing a cup of tea from the ether. "I'd say that it's been too long, but it truthfully hasn't been long enough. Tea?"
"So you can poison me?" Kool-Aid sneered. "No, Nezu, I'm not here for your tea. I'm here to finally do what should have been done many revolutions ago."
Nezu's placid smile finally dimmed into blankness. "Wash will not be pleased with this, Kool-Aid. It's not too late to reconsider your actions and leave with your life."
"I don't take orders from that false prophet," Kool-Aid scoffed at the notion of Wash's ire, taking a combat stance. "His claims of being a god amongst mere mortals are foolhardy at best. The only thing that matters is stirring up some smiles!"
"Principal?" Shishida spoke up in a panic.
"It'll be fine, Shishida," Nezu assured, briefly turning his gaze to his student before returning it to Kool-Aid. "After all, you're weak."
"We'll see about that," Kool-Aid darkly chuckled before placing his hands together and bridging his glassy fingers. "Domain Expansion: Pitcher of the Carmine Sea."
At the utterance of those words, a pitch-black curtain zoomed over the interior of Nezu's spacious office, even covering the hole in the wall left behind from his entrance. Once the three of them were seemingly trapped in a black void, said void exploded out in all directions, stretching as far as Shishida's fearful eyes could see. Kool-Aid's grin held nothing but malice as the void around them began to bend and curl, transforming into a glass pitcher with a black, malevolent smile looming over them like a deathly omen. Just as quickly, thick, cerise liquid emerged from the depths and spewed into the air like unholy geysers, soon creating a caldera of rippling, malevolent sugar water at Kool-Aid's beck and call.
Shishida had never experienced anything like this before. He had no idea if what was happening was the result of a quirk, a simple illusion, or a glimpse into the reality of the ludicrous rumors surrounding Wash. Regardless of what the explanation was, Shishida feared for his life.
Nezu, on the other hand, could only sigh in resignation. He placed a paw over his right eye, gliding a claw down the jagged scar before plucking the black contact lens from his eye, exposing a brilliant, shimmering pool of blue surrounding a beady, black pupil.
"Domain Expansion," Nezu dispassionately intoned, twisting his index and middle finger together. "Infinite Hamster Wheel."
Suddenly, Kool-Aid's domain stilled, as did he, and the crimson cauldron was washed away in a mere instant by the vast expanse of outer space moving at hyperspeed. Meanwhile, a gargantuan, celestial hamster wheel emerged from the void behind Nezu and Shishida, and Kool-Aid's eyes were drawn to it beyond his control.
"Sir?" Shishida finally spoke up again, unable to contain his confusion.
Nezu placed a reassuring paw on Shishida's leg, and his smile returned. "Worry not, Mr. Shishida. Everything is under control."
"But…" Shishida muttered, struggling to get a grip on his thoughts, but he ultimately failed, eventually settling on gazing at Kool-Aid's still, unblinking expression.
The mascot in question's eyes were locked on the planetary hamster wheel behind them, watching as the hamster ran and ran on the unending cycle without slowing down for a single moment. Kool-Aid was so entranced by the sight that he did not react whatsoever to the cracks forming throughout him, spidering until they covered him from head to toe. All he knew was the limitless void of information that coursed through Nezu's mind entering his own without interruption as his brain finally shattered, and so, too, did his body.
Kool-Aid quite literally fell to pieces before them as Nezu's domain receded. His bright, yellow jacket, blue jorts, and white sneakers were soaked in red liquid, the same red liquid that was soaking Nezu's carpet. Kool-Aid's vacant gaze lying in a growing pool of red resembled a horrific crime scene, but Nezu had a wealth of experience cleaning those up.
"I believe you've had more than enough excitement for one day, Mr. Shishida," Nezu warmly began, placing his contact back in and looking like nothing about him had ever changed. "Return to your classmates in the dorms, and we shall pick this back up on Monday after the school day."
"…Yes, sir," Shishida absently replied before making his way to the door.
"Oh, and Mr. Shishida," Nezu addressed before he reached the door, "I don't believe I have to stress that everything that happened in this office today must stay in this office, correct?"
Shishida robotically nodded, and then he exited the office, closing the door behind him.
Once he was gone, Nezu sighed once again, and he tiredly made his way back to his desk. "I sincerely hope that this does not disturb Godzilla's slumber. Izuku isn't ready to face a threat of that magnitude."
"Tragedy struck Deika City this week when a villain group staged a surprise attack on the unsuspecting populace. The yet unnamed collective of villains fabricated an emergency signal to lure local heroes away from the area, allowing them to lay siege to the usually peaceful city unobstructed. With no one to protect them, the residents of Deika City valiantly banded together to mount a resistance against the unexpected force."
"Holy shit…" muttered a stunned Sero on the couch in the 1-A common room. Beside him, an equally pale Kaminari grabbed the remote and turned the volume up.
"Fortunately, the duped heroes were able to join the fray once it was clear that they had been bamboozled, but by then, many civilians had already lost their lives. Among those lost was Koku Hanabata, the founder of the Hearts and Minds Party and staunch advocate for looser quirk restrictions."
"Sheesh, man," Kaminari somberly remarked, shaking his head at both the needless death and destruction as well as the irony of Hanabata's passing. "Cruel twist of fate, huh?"
"You said it," Sero nodded. By then, several others who were in the common room had begun to wander over and crowd around the couch to take in the distressing report.
"Eventually, however, with the assistance of the heroes and the efforts of the brave citizens, all twenty villains were killed in battle. The case has been closed thus far to our knowledge, but we will report any further updates if they develop."
"K-killed?" Sato squawked from his place leaning over the couch echoing the thoughts of many of his classmates.
"By civilians at that," Jiro added from beside the couch with a faint shudder. "It must have been really bad out there."
"You guys don't think any of our classmates were caught in the chaos, were they?" Toru worriedly gestured (which mostly amounted to a floating shirt pantomiming).
"Nah, I don't think so," Shoji entered the conversation in an attempt to ease his friends' worries. "To my knowledge, none of them work with pros that operate in Aichi. The closest would be Mirko if she ever made a stop there, but Midoriya's been home with us for the past few days."
"Speaking of," Kaminari motioned to the screen where a picture of Izuku rested beside the talking head.
"In other news, UA hero student and rising star, Beacon, was recently spotted buying a set of Mirko bunny earmuffs for his adorable little sister. This has apparently jumpstarted a new trend among pro hero fans of combining Mirko's ears with Beacon's iridescent scarf. We'll now throw to field reporter Chie Nakamura for her report on the meteoric rise of the duo many have christened, 'Rainbow Dash'."
As if he was summoned from the ether by the mention of his name, Izuku appeared beside Kaminari and snatched the remote before changing the channel with a huff. "Friggin vultures. Mom was right, can't have shit in Musutafu."
That smashed through any tension that sprouted from the news report like a freight train, and a bout of laughter sparked through the group.
"Sounds like you've been spending too much time around Bakugo, Midoriya," Kaminari joked.
"Sometimes, he knows the perfect way to phrase things," Izuku remarked with a sigh. "The minute I start calling people shitty nerds, though, I want Koda to strangle me."
Another bout of laughter fell over the group while a few turned to Koda, who was cringing at the thought.
"Um, why me?" he softly questioned.
"Because the visual would be hilarious," Izuku answered, and even Koda had to concede that point.
"What's wrong, Midoriya?" Jiro asked with a playful smirk. "Don't like all the attention?"
"Would you?" he tossed the question back to her, and she shrugged in acquiescence to the point. "All of the really kind and supportive comments I get online are nice, but I could definitely live without the paparazzi popping out of dumpsters to catch an up-close picture of me and Mirko moments after a villain takedown."
Then, Izuku shuddered. "There's also the mountains of… less than savory comments about me online, to put it mildly."
"I feel like a man dying of thirst watching another man drown," Mineta lamented from beside Sero.
"You said it," Sero nodded.
It was at that point that a tug on the hem of Izuku's shirt caused him to look down, and he smiled at what he saw. Eri, sporting Mirko's ears, had entered the common room with a thoughtful expression and was trying to get his attention.
"What's up?" Izuku asked, gently ruffling his sister's hair.
"I saw something on TV about candy apples," Eri informed with an unmistakable glint in her eye, and Izuku already knew where this was going. "Where do they grow, and how can we find them?"
"Oh my god, that's so adorable," Toru cooed in a hushed tone, and several of her classmates nodded in agreement.
"Ah, the magic of candy apples," Izuku began in a whimsical tone, indulging his sister in her quest for the vaunted treat. "The secret is that they don't grow anywhere; we can make them ourselves."
Eri's eyes widened, and they were glimmering with excitement from the boundless possibilities that awaited her. An apple covered in a layer of candy that they could make? Why hadn't she ever heard of this before?
"What do we need?" Eri asked, now 100% determined to create these holy specimens.
"Just sugar, water, and corn syrup, really," Sato spoke up. "I have all of those, so we could definitely make them. Just need the apples."
Eri turned back to Izuku and somehow had him by the collar in a flash, her eyes crazed and nearly unfocused as she shook him with all her might. "WE. NEED. APPLES. NOW. ZUKU!"
"Alright, alright, we'll go buy some apples!" Izuku acquiesced, and then he was promptly dropped to the floor by a victorious Eri.
"Wait, if you're gonna go off campus again, you'll need better disguises!" Toru excitedly declared before zooming up the stairs faster than Iida at his top speed. Within moments, she was back with two large boxes in her arms. "And I know just the thing!"
Izuku was dumbfounded as Toru opened the boxes and revealed several assortments of clothing, wigs, and accessories. He wasn't the only one either, as the rest of the class was just as taken aback but equally curious.
"Uh, Hagakure?" Jiro hazarded, pointing one of her jacks at the box she was manically sifting through. "What's all this?"
"Oh yeah, I never told you guys," Toru realized but didn't pause her search. "I used to be in the drama club in middle school, and I got to keep all of the costumes I made!"
"Wait, you made costumes?" Sero asked, and Toru nodded. "Like sewed them up to put together whole ensembles and everything?"
"Hell yeah, I did!" she replied, finally pausing when she found the clothes she was looking for. "Here we go."
"…So you can make whole costumes, yet your own hero costume…" Mineta began, desperately trying to rationalize it before he gave up. "You know what, never mind."
Toru pulled out a black and green checkered haori with a black and burgundy wig alongside a pink kimono and dark brown haori, and she tossed them to Izuku and Eri, respectively. "Alright, you two, put these on."
Eri, seeing no reason not to, happily obliged and started putting on the costume. Izuku, meanwhile, wasn't as giddy.
"Are you sure about this?" Izuku asked, sending unsure glances between Toru and the oddly familiar haori in his grasp.
"Hold him down," Toru commanded, and before Izuku knew it, he was tackled by Shoji, Sero, and Sato.
After a few moments of fruitless struggling, Izuku was back on his feet with the checkered haori and wig on, sending his classmates a flat expression.
"Toru, the point of disguises is to be inconspicuous," Izuku deadpanned, before unsheathing a sword from its hilt. "Nothing about this is inconspicuous."
Toru hummed in consideration, critically eyeing Izuku up and down before turning to her other model. "How about you, Eri?"
Eri looked down at the pink kimono and brown haori blanketing her, and she removed the bamboo muzzle that was secured around her jaw before shrugging. "I like it."
"Awesome!" Toru cheered, though she still raised an invisible finger to her invisible chin in consideration. "That said, Izuku might have a point. Let's try for something less eye-catching, yeah?"
As Toru dove right back into the boxes with a few of the others curiously checking out what else was available, Izuku sighed in resignation that this was likely going to be the rest of his day.
The air within the Lair of Anti-Villains was buzzing with excitement, primarily from Spinner. Their heist had gone off without a hitch, and they were left to examine the spoils of their efforts in the form of a Dropbox containing all of the stolen information neatly sorted by level of clearance. PwrOfLuv was a master at her craft and incredibly thorough.
Sitting around the living room table in front of the couch that held Tomura's laptop, the group settled in with celebratory pizza as Tomura prepared to explore the treasure trove that could potentially torpedo Japanese hero society. Spinner, Twice, and even Mr. Compress sat on pins and needles in anticipation.
"Alright, let's see what kind of dirt the HPSC is hiding," Tomura said, opening the first folder which contained information of the highest level of clearance and then clicking on a random folder. "Kaina Tsutsumi, codenamed Lady Nagant…"
"Oh? Now that's a name I haven't heard in a while," Mr. Compressed mused. "Last I remember, she was thrown in Tartarus for killing a fellow hero during an argument. It came out of nowhere for someone so popular."
"Well, that's apparently bullshit," Tomura muttered, reading through the documents in her folder. "She blew the previous president of the HPSC's brains out in his office."
Spinner nearly choked on his pizza before leaning over in excitement. "Holy hell, that's fucking rad! What made her snap?"
"Says here that the Commission had her doing assassination missions," Tomura continued. "Dangerous villains, corrupt heroes, particularly mouthy civilians before their opinions and influence could gain traction, politicians that got a little bit too ambitious…"
"This seems as though it's going beyond the bounds of a commission that simply oversees pro heroes," Kurogiri mused from over Tomura's shoulder.
"It does, doesn't it?" Mr. Compress agreed. "Perhaps the corruption runs even deeper than we assumed."
"It does," Tomura said, reading on. "Nagant's job was to eliminate people that threatened to fracture the public's hero worship. From the Commission's perspective, that meant criminals looking to attack heroes and damage their reputations as well as heroes that were colluding with villains for one reason or another. They'd die, and their crimes would be swept under the rug to keep things running smoothly. But it seems like the Prime Minister at the time saw an opportunity to use her to do a little housecleaning of his own."
"Covertly eliminating criminals and corrupt heroes whose actions remain in the dark is one thing, but this seems like a surefire way to turn a public face into a martyr," Kurogiri mused. "How did they deal with that inevitability?"
"…Pinning the blame on captured fugitives and then executing them to keep the truth under wraps," Tomura surmised after reading further.
"I… don't really know what I was expecting," Twice spoke up in response to that. "I saw that coming a mile away."
"Well, at least we know that the Prime Minister's office at one point wasn't above assassinating political opponents," Mr. Compress wearily sighed. "I wonder if that's changed."
"We get a new one every year, they're all the same," Tomura grumbled.
It was safe to say that the excited air in the apartment had dimmed considerably since they dove into their treasure trove. However, they knew that they were going to have to sift through a lot of sordid information, so this was just the beginning of the ride.
"Alright, assassin coverups and dirty prime ministers down," Tomura sighed and moved on to the next folder, and a particular phrase caught his eye. "Paragon Initiative? Sounds stupid."
"If it's in the same tier as the Nagant coverup, it must be big," Spinner murmured.
Tomura grunted, but his eyes widened just a few moments into reading through the information inside. "Now this I wasn't expecting."
"What is it?" Twice asked. "Don't care. It's gotta be fun!"
"The HPSC groomed a bunch of fucking super soldiers," Tomura almost chortled at the thought. The others, however, weren't as amused.
"Super soldiers like Hawks, or super soldiers like All Might?" Mr. Compress nervously questioned.
"Probably somewhere in the middle?" Tomura mused in reply. "Says here that their purpose is to act as a new Top Ten in a crisis. My guess is that they're trained to be at least on par with the upper crust."
"What else does it say about them?" Spinner asked, leaning over to get a view of the screen.
"There are nine of them," Tomura answered. "Codenamed One through Nine; I guess Hawks would make ten. Most of them are currently abroad."
"Doing what?" Mr. Compress asked.
Tomura read a little bit further, and his brow furrowed. "Alright, added confirmation that the Prime Minister and National Diet are using the HPSC's services: when they're not needed in Japan, the Paragons are usually out assassinating foreign officials, wiping out slippery villain groups, and generally eliminating people that could become annoying for Japan's interests in the future. They've got a bunch of individual profiles on them; gather around and take a look."
The rest of the League did so, moving onto and behind the couch to get a good look at Tomura's screen. Indeed, there was a profile on each Paragon listing their codenames (both given and chosen), quirks, abilities, and specializations. The quirks ranged from self-explanatory names like Tungsten Bones, Electricity Generation, and Wind Blade to esoteric names like Spirit Animal and…
"Overclock?" Kurogiri questioned in confusion when they got to the page of Operative Six. Memories started rising from the depths of his mind.
"You recognize him?" Tomura asked with a quirked eyebrow.
The bright patches of yellow on Kurogiri's face narrowed at the picture of a man with long, black hair tied in a ponytail and a scar running diagonally down his face and across the bridge of his nose between two beady, golden eyes.
"I do," Kurogiri confirmed. "He was part of the Villain Factory. All For One gave him his quirks."
"Villain Factory?" Tomura asked in surprise. "I thought everyone involved with that was dead."
"They are," Kurogiri confirmed. "All For One and the doctor had assumed that Number 6's body was destroyed in Naruhata. I suppose that wasn't the case."
"And now the Commission has their hands on him," Tomura bemusedly said.
"It appears that way."
"Hold on a sec," Spinner spoke up, pointing to the screen. "There are only eight profiles here. Where's the ninth one?"
Tomura backed out of the folder containing the profiles and scrolled down until he reached another folder in particular. "That's because Nine has a folder all to himself."
"Well, that's ominous," Twice muttered, and none of his other personalities disagreed.
Opening the folder, the League was faced with a plethora of documents, notes, training reports, and even physical and psychological evaluations about the ninth Paragon.
"Oh," Spinner said as he read, and his scaly face steadily grew pale as he continued reading. "Oh."
"That's… honestly a bit frightening," Mr. Compress admitted.
"Looks like the HPSC wanted an All Might killer for emergencies," Tomura mused. "Probably in case he ever goes rogue."
"Or if your cousin becomes too great of an issue for them," Kurogiri solemnly posed.
A heavy beat of silence followed as Tomura narrowed his gaze dangerously at the screen. "Yeah, in case he becomes an issue…"
His voice was low, lower than either Kurogiri or Spinner were familiar with, and it unsettled them. His hand even twitched, motioning to drift toward his neck before the urge to scratch was ruthlessly stomped. Instead, it clenched into a fist.
"I'll dust this prick myself and lay the HPSC to waste before that happens," Tomura growled, surprising both Kurogiri and Spinner. Spinner smiled and patted Tomura on the shoulder, whereas Kurogiri did not have the capacity to smile, but he would've, nonetheless.
"Let's keep going," Tomura continued. "We have a lot to look through."
Eri, decked out in a dark overcoat and bowler hat, could barely contain herself. She chomped down on the Fuji apple in her grasp, and an explosion of vibrant sweetness enveloped her tastebuds in an ambrosial blanket. She was entranced; the unmatched succulence of this heavenly fruit had enraptured her, carrying her through eons of exquisite, rosy nirvana.
The apple itself was positively divine, and they were going to go the extra mile and coat it with candy?
Izuku, now in a tan overcoat and deerstalker hat, was accosted for the second time that day, only this time it was a tearful glomp from the little bundle of traumatized joy that was with him. He chuckled and sent her a fond smile, shifting the bags of apples they bought into his right hand and repeating his earlier ministrations by removing her hat and running his left hand through her hair. She didn't even need to say anything, as all of her thoughts, emotions, and long-vanished worries were communicated in that single embrace.
"I love you too, Eri," he softly remarked, lightly patting her on the back and smiling even more when her hold tightened in response.
When she finally hopped back down, she accidentally bumped into a tall man heading in the opposite direction as them on the relatively empty street, knocking her apple out of her hands and onto the sidewalk.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, my dear," the man said, apologetically helping her up and dusting off her coat. "I'm afraid I should've paid a closer eye to where I was traversing."
Then, he gasped when he noticed the fallen apple. "Oh dear, your apple! This is a travesty! Worry not, however, for I shall properly reimburse you for my unforgivable blunder! What kind of apple were you enjoying, young one?"
"It's okay," Eri assured him before picking up the apple. She concentrated, and her horn started glowing. Before their eyes, the apple was restored to its original state before she had even taken a bite out of it in the first place.
"There, all better!" she declared with a proud smile.
"Good god, what a magnificent ability," the man exuberantly remarked, his blue eyes shimmering in amazement. "To render earthly wares back to such pristine perfection on a mere whim… such elegance! Wouldn't you say, La Brava?"
His almost posh, excessively theatrical manner of speaking immediately struck Izuku as odd, but people had all types of personality quirks, so he didn't think too much of it. What did draw his attention, though, were the matching trench coats and hats that he and his companion who was roughly as tall (or as short) as Eri were wearing. They weren't doing much to obfuscate their identities, at least in his case, and neither was his clearly excitable disposition that drove him to name-drop his now annoyed companion.
"Gentle, what's the point of wearing disguises if you're just going to announce my name anyway?" La Brava asked with a twitching eye.
To his credit, Gentle immediately blanched, and he raised the back of his fist to his forehead as he dramatically leaned back. "My sincerest apologies, La Brava. You know how my body oftentimes works faster than my brain when I'm excited."
Ignoring the fact that he name-dropped her a second time, La Brava's annoyance transformed into a gushing swoon. "Oh, I could never stay mad at you, my darling Gentle!"
"This calls for a celebratory excursion!" Gentle declared with a flourish, tearing off his trench coat and disposing of it in one swift motion. "Come La Brava, our wondrous Gentle Brigade awaits an update on our endeavors!"
"Right behind you!" La Brava declared, disposing of her trench coat, as well, revealing them both to be in matching costumes. As Gentle Criminal leaped into the air and bounded away, La Brava turned to Izuku and Eri.
"Nice to meet you, Beacon!" she cheerfully waved. "Love the mission and the aesthetic!"
With that, she miraculously leaped into the air and bounded away in pursuit of Gentle, leaving a befuddled Izuku and a curious Eri behind to process what had just happened. Izuku wasn't having very much luck doing so.
"Do you wanna take a stab at whatever the heck that whole thing was?" Izuku asked Eri as she took another bite of her freshly rewound apple.
She took a minute to chew and swallow before answering. "Mr. Nezu says that it's best to let natural selection take its course on some people. I don't really know what that means, but I took his word for it."
"Fair enough," Izuku accepted. "Of all the things I prepared to encounter today, Gentle Criminal in the wild was not one of them."
"The other one recognized you," Eri pointed out. "Maybe she's a fan?"
"Maybe…" Izuku pondered, La Brava's parting words echoing in his mind. "It also means our disguises suck."
Unbeknownst to them, they were being watched from a distant rooftop. Hawks lowered the binoculars in shock, desperately trying to convince himself that what he had seen was not the case.
"You gotta be shitting me," he numbly murmured, a pit forming in his stomach.
His phone felt like a metric ton of lead in his pocket. This girl who had only appeared in the system recently as an adopted orphan with a quirk registered simply as Horn could reverse time? Or maybe she just reversed time on a singular object? Or maybe she was reversing the physical state of that object, which was in essence reversing time on that object…
Whatever the specifics, he knew in his heart and soul that this kind of information would drive Madame President to act. There was no way that it wouldn't. She absolutely would not pass up an opportunity to get her hands on that kind of power, especially if it meant getting it out of the hands of Nezu and the Midoriya family.
Hawks had a choice to make.
The right thing to do would be to forget he had seen anything and proceed as normal… or was that the right thing? Wasn't he already doing the right thing by keeping an eye on a potential danger to societal stability in Midoriya? Altruistic intentions or not, he was a scarily powerful disruptor under the wing of a creature that was heroic in name only. Hawks's hands had already been bloodied in pursuit of protecting the trust that civilians had for hero society and the institutions that maintained it, so this was just more of that, right? All for the greater good of Japan, after all…
Hawks unleashed a long, weary sigh and ran his hand down his face. Fortunately, it would take him a few hours of flying to return to his bird of a feather back at the agency, so he at least had that long to decide what to do.
"I'm glad you finally decided to hear me out," Slidin' Go said to Shishido as they walked down a long corridor toward a meeting hall. "It's amazing to know that other pros are down with the cause."
"Yeah…" Shishido murmured, eyeing his surroundings carefully.
At first, when Slidin' Go mentioned going to a luxurious estate out in buttfuck nowhere, Shishido assumed something entirely different than a collective summit at a hideout. He wasn't upset at the outcome, but he wouldn't have minded the other option either. In any event, being brought into the fold so quickly made him understandably nervous; awaiting him was either a trap, a test of loyalty, or a genuinely enthusiastic meeting of an organization that wanted all the support it could get. The inherently ominous nature of being led down a dark hallway in a mansion out on a remote mountain wasn't helping sell him on the third option, however. It was only Shishido's confidence that he could tear through whatever trap might be sprung on him that kept him walking.
"This is all new to you, I get it," Slidin' Go said, taking Shishido's cautious silence for nervousness. "Believe me, it was an adjustment for me, too. It's hard to reconcile being a freedom fighter while also working for the same oppressive government, but think of it like this: you're protecting the populous while also creating the perfect world for them to live in down the line. You're basically a hero on two fronts! Being a government lapdog is simply a means to an end."
Shishido was taken aback by that. Slidin' Go had clearly thought for a long time about this, and he truly believed his explanation. It even made sense, clear distaste for the government and current social order notwithstanding. In fact, it made so much sense that Shishido was going to steal this response in case anyone in the organization attempted to press him about his motivations in the future.
Absolutely foolproof.
"You picked the best time to enter the fold, too," Slidin' Go excitedly continued. "We recently had a bit of a shakeup in the ranks after a big celebration. Some new additions came in; I'm still not really sold on them, but they'll be great for diversity!"
Shishido quirked an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean by that?"
Slidin' Go opened his mouth to speak, but he paled once he remembered exactly who he was speaking to, and then he sputtered. "O-Oh, um, they're, uh, they're great representation for marginalized groups, yeah!"
"Such as?" Shishido asked, and Slidin' Go's relief fled him once again.
"Um, well.." Slidin' Go struggled. "Their meta abilities set them apart from the rest, n-not that there's anything wrong with that, of course! All meta abilities should be cherished and championed! It's just that, um, they've lived unique experiences as a result, sometimes for the worse. Not everyone is so charitable…"
"Charitable?" Shishido questioned, and Slidin' Go nearly tripped over his own foot.
"N-No! Not that we're charitable to them for their existence! Nothing like that, haha! Just, ah…"
"…You know you can just say that they're mutants, right?" Shishido said, finally sparing Slidin' Go from floundering any further.
In response, Slidin' Go frantically activated his quirk and slid forward at top speed, reaching the end of the hallway and pushing open the door to the meeting hall. "Hey look, we're here! See how quick that was? Let's head inside!"
"I cannot fathom how we are all alive right now," Viper uttered to no one in particular as he stared at the platter of sushi in front of him. "We're not just alive; we're sitting in some cushy suite in a fuckin' mansion eating sushi. How the hell did we end up here?"
"Luck," Komodo answered from a parlor chair beside him, shoveling sushi into his mouth. When he noticed several stares being leveled at him, he shrugged. "What? Someone had to say it."
"I don't think this," Weaver dryly began from across the table, gesturing broadly to the bandages covering the right side of her face, "is all that lucky, asshole."
"Maybe not," Komodo hummed, "but it does look pretty badass, though."
Weaver huffed and flipped her hair. "I always look badass."
"So, instead of just being off-brand Spider-Gwen, you're now off-brand Spider-Gwen with an eyepatch?" Titan sniped from within a heated blanket on a couch against the wall.
Weaver ignored the snickers that flitted around the room in favor of sending Titan a deadpan glare. "How's your Snuggy over there, Lake Placid?"
"Fantastic, thank you very much," Titan grinned amidst the further snickering at his expense, and then he looked to Chimera occupying the other couch across the room. "I'm not the only one either, right, big guy?"
Chimera, also wrapped up in a heated blanket and periodically sniffling, groaned in annoyance while managing to keep his cigar in his mouth. "I'm not that much taller than you. I don't know why you insist on calling me that."
"He does it to annoy you because he's a dickhead," Viper answered, finally caving and indulging in the sushi before Komodo could eat it all himself. "He kept calling Kitsune fuzzbut for weeks until Kitsune finally put his foot up his ass."
Chimera just tsked, and then he took another drag from his cigar. "I'm a lover, not a fighter."
"Says the guy who has the highest kill count of everyone in this room," Komodo dryly rebuked between bites.
"Bah, they weren't named characters, so they don't count," Chimera dismissed.
"At least one of 'em was," Komodo pointed out. "I heard the skinny guy with giant fuckin' feet talking about the politician dude getting incinerated by a wolf-dragon."
"You remember his name?" Chimera dryly asked.
Komodo released a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a chortle. "Hell no, but he's gotta count for something."
"If the grunts are all worth one point, Politician Boy's gotta be at least five," Weaver chimed in. "Maybe ten depending on how important he was."
"Meh, he didn't do any fighting himself," Chimera replied. "He just stood around and egged the lambs on through a megaphone."
"Four points, then," Weaver declared, plopping a piece of fish into her mouth.
Then, the door opened, and in stepped Hellhound, silent as usual. Viper quickly took note of his canine friend's ruby gaze and saw that he looked far more refreshed than normal, especially given the circumstances.
"Yo," Viper greeted him with a slight wave that was followed by four others, and Hellhound returned a nod to all of them. "Where've you been?"
"One of the balconies," Hellhound gruffly answered with his voice that was so reminiscent of dragging a tombstone along the bones of orphans. "The nighttime air always puts the tumult in my soul at ease."
"You were howling at the fuckin' moon again, weren't you?" Viper deadpanned.
"No, mind your business," Hellhound quickly replied before snatching a plate of sushi and sitting in a lone parlor chair by the wall, putting his hood up to block out the developing laughter in the room.
Fortunately for him, he was spared when another new arrival entered the fray, this time a haggard-looking Mirage. Her blonde hair was a frizzy mess, and her normally keen, sapphire gaze was red and puffy. She walked over to the table in the center of the room and fell into the open chair beside Weaver with a weary sigh.
"Kid, you okay?" Weaver asked with genuine concern dressing the unbandaged half of her face.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," she unconvincingly assured them. "Just… had another long talk with Curious."
"Interview?" Weaver questioned with a quirked eyebrow, and it furrowed in agitation when the younger woman nodded. "That bitch is fucking twisted."
"She's really good at her job," Mirage weakly tittered, minutely relaxing at Weaver rubbing her back. "She pulled a lot out of me… it honestly felt good to talk about it for once, at least with a viciously impartial party."
Viper cleared his throat. "Well, since you seem to be chummy with one of the head honchos around here…"
"Oh, fuck off, you scaly dipshit," Weaver snapped, and Viper raised his hands in surrender.
"Just saying," Viper insisted. "Hear me out, I'm going somewhere with this."
The three men on the outs of the conversation remained silent, knowing well enough to tread lightly when Weaver grew protective over Mirage. Even Komodo turned his gaze away and focused on the remaining platter of sushi he swiped, leaving Viper to whatever fate he was doomed to step into.
"It's fine," Mirage sighed, easing Weaver away and fully turning to face her serpentine comrade. "What's on your mind, Viper?"
"Alright, we all accepted that a gruesome death was a possibility when we agreed to walk right into the lion's den and fight an army," Viper cautiously began, keeping an eye on Weaver to ensure he didn't end up with a split-second shiner. "We, a grand total of eight people, challenged an army of like tens of thousands at least. Now, I got bashed in the back of the skull sometime after facing off with a bunch of scrubs, so I wasn't conscious for most of the important bits; how the hell did we all survive?"
"It's a fair question," Hellhound surprisingly spoke in agreement with Viper. "They had us all dead to rights. What stopped them?"
"They weren't trying to kill us," Mirage answered as if it was the simplest thing in the world, and upon receiving questioning looks from around the room, she shrugged. "At least not immediately. The goal was to take us down and line us up for a public execution in front of Kitsune. Y'know, show him that he wasn't strong enough to protect his comrades, so he wouldn't be strong enough to make any meaningful change to society."
Viper whistled at that, internally relieved that the army's willingness to go the extra mile to humiliate them was what got a decent chunk of them slaughtered at the end. "Did Curious tell you all that?"
"She didn't have to," Mirage shrugged. "Wasn't hard to put together in the aftermath of that battle. Doesn't hurt that I can pick up the whispers of some of the less careful people. They're really not fans of us."
"I know you don't like to admit it, but this is why you're the brains of this operation," Weaver teased, drawing a groan from Mirage.
"You literally have a master's in pharmaceutical chemistry," Mirage countered.
"Yeah, and I use it to mass produce drugs on the black market," she rebutted. "You are Kitsune's right hand for a reason… y'know, aside from nepotism."
"Where is your brother, by the way?" Komodo slid into the conversation.
"Don't know," Mirage shrugged. "He's been sequestered with Re-Destro the last few days.
"That's Grand Commander to you," came a stern, icy intonation from the doorway.
The seven occupants turned to find Skeptic leveling them all with a hateful glare hidden behind his bangs. Beside him was Kusari casually leaning on the border and lazily waving at them.
"Ah, it's the welcoming committee," Komodo exaggeratedly greeted with open arms. "Here to finally show us around our new digs? This mansion is fucking fabulous!"
Skeptic did not reply right away, instead slowly craning his head in Komodo's direction. "You should all consider yourselves lucky that your lives were spared."
"Alright big man, ease up," Kusari calmly interjected, stepping into the room and placing a hand on Skeptic's shoulder. "They survived fair and square… they did survive fair and square, right? I wasn't here for that."
"I refuse to play cordial with the scum who killed Trumpet," Skeptic hissed, and the venom was felt in the bones of everyone in the room.
Kusari's lazy demeanor vanished, and his dull, half-lidded gaze hardened to attention. "It doesn't matter anymore, Skeptic. Re-Destro's words are Destro's words. His will is absolute. We can only move forward."
A low growl rumbled from Skeptic's throat, but Kusari remained firm. He kept his gaze locked onto Skeptic's bangs and the bulging veins trailing down his cheeks from underneath, and then he placed his thumb on his forehead and performed the salute, waiting for Skeptic to return it. Skeptic eventually did, albeit begrudgingly, and then he turned and left the room. Kusari sighed, and then his demeanor loosened back up on a dime, his lazy façade returning before turning back to their seven newest recruits who were watching the scene with interest.
"Well, guys, it's showtime," Kusari announced with a smile before pointing to Mirage. "You finally get to see your brother. Come on, let's go."
"Welcome, and thank you for coming, Liberation Warriors!" Re-Destro addressed the gathered collection of over 100,000 members of the MLA from across the nation. "I am Re-Destro, and it is a pleasure to see you! Today, we usher in not just a new era of the Meta Liberation Army, but a new era for Liberation as a whole!"
Shishido scanned the room in shock. He suspected that there were going to be a lot of people at this meeting, and those suspicions were confirmed when he saw the sheer size of the meeting hall, but he was not prepared for it to be filled to the brim with bodies. The number of people who supported an anarchistic movement so fervently that they would mobilize at a moment's notice was genuinely frightening. He'd send word back to Nezu as soon as the meeting was over.
"If you all would indulge me in sharing something personal with the masses," Re-Destro continued with a solemn expression. "When I was born, neither of my parents attended my delivery. My father was preoccupied with far more important matters, such as fighting for a freer world in the name of Liberation! He was a truly ascended man, one that all would be blessed to have spawned from, but even so, my formative years were troubled."
Shishido didn't even bother trying to figure out how the fuck that birthing process worked, especially when he witnessed thousands of melancholic and heartbroken faces hanging off of Re-Destro's every word.
"I was ostracized for smelling of pork and having a giant cockroach companion," he continued. "I could never participate in kickball with the other youth, and all of my accomplishments existed in the shadow of paper mache volcanoes!"
'…What?'
"Eventually, I was taken in for a short time by a family of ocelots before I was found by followers of my father while he remained imprisoned, but the lessons of the real world had already been engrained, and they were the same lessons that my father was fighting an unjust status quo over: self-expression above all!"
The rumbling of thousands of fists pounding into their chests in solidarity with their leader echoed through the hall, and Shishido idly noticed Slidin' Go eyeing him from his left. He hesitantly raised his fist and brought it to his chest in confusion, and he received a smile and nod of approval from Slidin' Go.
Re-Destro, on the other hand, continued without missing a beat. "I wholeheartedly believed that Fukkō was an obstacle to be steamrolled until I faced them. I doubted the convictions of their leader. I doubted his strength. I doubted his readiness to truly liberate himself and let the beast caged within him run free! I was woefully incorrect, and now, I've seen the light! A brand-new dawn awaits the Meta Liberation Army, and it will be ushered in by myself and the newest team of lieutenants!"
It seemed that was their cue, as Re-Destro and the fox-man sitting in a luxurious parlor chair beside him were joined by eleven other people. Seven of them, Shishido noticed, were mutants, and Slidin' Go's earlier gaff about diversity began to click.
"For those unfamiliar, the seven beside Skeptic, Curious, Kusari, and Geten were formally of Fukkō, aspiring revolutionaries fighting against oppression, just like us!" Re-Destro bellowed, and the crowd was beginning to buzz with all manners of sentiments. Shishido could feel amalgamations of excitement, curiosity, skepticism, resentment, disgust, and many more.
"But wait, there's more! Re-Destro excitedly announced, hushing the crowd and putting them on their heels. "The man sitting beside me reminds me so much of me in my youth. Shackled by the scars left behind by his past, his innate power remained caged away and hidden from the masses, and only when he finally broke those chains in pursuit of protecting his comrades did he truly become liberated!"
Re-Destro's manic smile nearly split his wrinkled, spotty face. "Please behold the new Grand Co-Commander of the Meta Liberation Army, Kitsune!"
Kitsune finally stood up from his seat and swept his stony, cerulean gaze over the ocean of supporters below. The derisive glares didn't faze him, nor did the gazes filled with wonder at the sheer spectacle Re-Destro was creating out of him.
"My friends, this is not us surrendering, nor is it abdicating!" Re-Destro insisted, his bloodshot gaze piercing each person in the crowd directly in their soul. "This is me doing what's best for our cause! Kitsune is not only truly free, but he has also melded the horrific, monstrous power of his meta ability and the humanity that clings to his soul despite himself! He is the epitome of a metahuman! He is the picture of self-expression!"
Just when Shishido couldn't imagine that Re-Destro could ham it up even further, Re-Destro threw his head back and caterwauled to the heavens. "Self-expression is not just a human right, it is a duty! And the most fundamental aspect of self-expression is the free and unrestricted use of our meta abilities!"
That drew a roar of approval from the audience, many tearfully pounding their chests once again while others proudly put up the MLA salute to their foreheads. It was all making Shishido even more nervous, but the pit in his stomach didn't truly open until Kitsune's blue eyes bled crimson, and a toxic, fiery miasma began to bubble over him. The translucent aura formed around him like a red-hot cloak, mildly obscuring the black overcoat he sported atop his dark, clearly tailored suit.
The cloak was giving off a horrible malice that Shishido felt on a primal level, and it only got worse when the cloak intensified. The three swinging tails behind him became four, and the cloak darkened into a near-black shade of blood red. Suddenly, his overcoat caught fire, and he carelessly shrugged it off to the floor behind him, unconcerned with it going up in reddish flames as the dark skin covering him radiated horrifying power.
Shishido stared into those blank, white voids that one would call eyes. For a mere moment, Kitsune directly met his gaze. Shishido, for all his tremendous feline strength, nearly looked away.
Then, Kitsune threw his head back, and a loud, heart-piercing roar thundered from his mouth and shook the room.
This didn't look too great to Shishido.
Omake: Vampire Meets Hippo
Himiko Toga slipped out of the blood bank with practiced ease. Her backpack was full of blood bags that should sate her for the next month or so, so she wouldn't have to worry about succumbing to the cravings again…
She almost had recently. The static in her brain was deafening, overwhelming her conscience and compelling her to stop fighting the urges like she had been for so long. She needed blood, and the only way to get it was by slicing someone up and bathing in their beautiful, heavenly essence-
No, it was pointless to think about that now. She didn't need to fall back into the clutches of the monster her urges made her become. She refused to be a prisoner in her own body once again. There was a better way…
That way, she found out, was stealing blood that had already been donated. Why it had never occurred to her, she didn't know, but she also didn't care so long as she was able to get her fix without causing anyone any harm. That was the most important part: she could satisfy her cravings without hurting herself or other people!
That was how she found herself sipping on a blood bag in an alley in pure ecstasy. The heavenly taste of lifeblood filled her with so much toe-curling warmth, and the fact that she was experiencing it without a corpse beside her made her heart thump. Beacon would be so proud of her…
She so wished that he'd come and rescue her soon, and then she could give him back the miso paste she stole from him and his mom. His mom was really cute, too, and she was so cool from her memories of Kamino-
No, she didn't like thinking about that stretch of her life anymore. It was her darkest hour among dark hours. She just needed to be happy with her current situation; she finally had cruelty-free blood, and she could use it to transform into a quick disguise in a pinch. In fact, she tested it out right then, activating her quirk and becoming a man in his mid-20s with short, brown hair and a thin mustache.
She couldn't explain why transforming felt so good, but it really did. It was almost therapeutic; for however long she was someone else, she felt as though her brain was finally stable. She wasn't Himiko Toga, a shattered psychopath, anymore. The pieces remaining of her psyche slid back together for those brief periods, and that's exactly what was happening now. She could lean back against the dumpster in bliss, enjoying the moment of respite from herself that she was allowed.
"Holy shit, that's him!"
Toga opened her eyes in annoyance at her private time being interrupted, and she turned her newly hazel gaze deeper into the alley to see who was heading toward her. To her surprise (and immense confusion), it was a group of life-sized animatronics walking on two legs. There was a frog, a pig, a bear, an orange elephant, and one more in the back that she couldn't get a good view of.
"That's the fucker who's been ducking us for months! He owes us millions!" The pig growled in a gruff, possibly American accent before strumming a quick tune on his banjo.
Ah, just her luck; whoever donated this blood apparently owed these guys money. Welp, that wasn't her problem, so she quickly downed the last of the blood and hoisted her backpack on to make a swift exit, but she was unexpectedly grabbed from behind by the frog that was literally just in front of her moments prior.
"I bet you weren't expecting me, were ya?" the frog laughed in a squeaky, childlike voice. "Turn your back for one second and I'm like, 'Wazoo!' Ninja skills!"
"Don't you hate gettin' killed by obscure, secondary characters?" the bear chuckled, flicking his red tie with his finger.
Then, the elephant, sporting a tiny, purple top hat and magic wand, looked down at her with contempt before turning back to the fifth figure. "He's all yours, boss."
The London accent couldn't confuse her any further than any of this nonsense had already, but her thoughts shifted to the fifth figure stepping into view.
"My friend, you are about to meet a terrible, terrible demise," came a calm, grandfatherly voice from the mouth of a purple hippo. His top hat was black and just as small as the elephant's, and he looked at her with a mixture of disappointment, sorrow, and resignation in those dull, glassy eyes.
"But, uh, y'know, I-I don't feel too bad about it," he continued. "After all, if... if it weren't from me, it would've just been from someone else you owe money to, y'know? I guess what I'm trying to say is, life... life goes on. W-well, fer—for everyone else, life goes on. Not... not for you. You're... you're dead. But that's neither here nor there. It reminds me of one summer day in the park…"
Toga's gaze had gone from annoyed to confused as Mr. Hippo went on. She had no earthly idea what the hell was even going on anymore or what he was going on about, but she remained in the grasp of the frog while Mr. Hippo proceeded unabated.
"I was having just a delightful picnic with my good friend, Orville," Mr. Hippo said, pointing to the elephant. "And I said to him, I said, 'Orville, I... I have a story.' And he said to me, 'What's the significance of the story?' And... I said to him, 'Orville, not every story has to have significance, y'know? Sometimes, a... y'know, sometimes, a story's just a story. You try to read into every little thing and find meaning in everything anyone says, you'll just drive yourself crazy. Had a friend do it once. Wasn't pretty. We talked about it for years. And then not only that, but... you'll likely end up believing something you shouldn't believe, thinking something you shouldn't think, o-o-or assuming something you shouldn't assume. Y'know? Sometimes,' I said, 'A story is-is just a story, so just be quiet for one second of your life and eat your sandwich, okay?'"
Orville sighed in exasperation, both at Mr. Hippo's long-winded nature and at him bringing up this story to someone they were preparing to kill once again.
"Of course," Mr. Hippo continued, "it was only then I'd realized I'd made sandwiches, and... poor Orville was having such difficulty eating it! Elephants have those clumsy hands, y'know? Actually, I-I suppose that's the problem. They don't have hands at all, do they? They're f—they're all feet! And I-I couldn't imagine someone asking me to eat a sandwich with my feet. Now, if I recall correctly, there was a bakery nearby. I said to him, 'Orville, let me go get you some rye bread.' Now, I'm unsure if elephants enjoy rye bread, but I assure you that Orville does."
Toga looked to her left at the pig, then she looked to her right at the bear, and then she looked straight ahead at an apologetic Orville as their boss went on and on.
"Now, this was on a Tuesday, which was good, because rye bread was always fresh on Tuesday," Mr. Hippo continued. "They made sourdough bread on Monday, and threw it out Wednesday... Or rather, they sold it at a discount for people wanting to feed it to the ducks, and then, probably at the end of the day, finally, they threw it all out; I-I don't recall. I do remember a man who would bring his son to the bakery every Wednesday, and... then go feed the ducks. He would buy all of the sourdough bread. Of course, y'know, you're not supposed to feed the ducks sourdough bread at all. It swells up in their stomach, and then they all die. At, uh, at least... at least, that's what I've heard."
He brought his hand up and cupped his chin in thought. "Y'know, I-I never saw any ducks die myself, but I did notice a substantial decrease in the duck population over the course of a few years. I just never thought to stop the man and tell him that he was killing the ducks by feeding them sourdough bread!"
A wry chuckle escaped him. "And if you want my opinion on the matter—heh, and I told Orville this, as well—if you wanna feed ducks, or birds of any kind, for that matter, it's best to buy seed. I mean, when you think about it, breads of any sort don't occur in nature. They don't grow on trees o-or spring up from the bushes.
He paused, taking a moment to really consider the concept. "I don't think birds know what to do with bread. What was I saying? Oh, oh yes yes. So I bought Orville some rye bread. What a fine day it was."
Mr. Hippo finally (and mercifully) ended his spiel, but when he turned around to face their captive, he was shocked to see a puddle of grey sludge on the ground where he once stood in Happy Frog's grasp. Even Happy Frog was taken aback, as were the others; none of them had seen or even noticed him somehow escape.
Up above, Toga hung on a fire escape, her golden, cat-like eyes glowing in the shadows with a predatory glint. The metal literally bent and twisted in her grasp, and she slowly retrieved a knife from one of her thigh straps. In a flash, she dropped to the ground, and the sounds of shouting, thumping, and shredded metal filled the dark corridor.
Minutes later, Toga skipped out of the alley with a brand-new top hat and banjo.
.