A Battle of Ideologies

(A/N: This has probably been my favourite chapter to write so far, so enjoy it!)

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[1 Week Later]

[Narrator's POV]

The typical bustle of the city had subsided to a soft murmur on the chilly and quiet night in Musutafu. Other than a few stray animals and the distant sound of a police siren reverberating down the narrow alleyways, the streets were vacant. Tucked away in the shadows of an abandoned building in the heart of the city, one man was invisible to the outside world.

With a calculated gaze, Okazaki Yuudai — or rather, the man known as Jigsaw — observed the screen in front of him. Already, his keen intellect was at work, analyzing every little detail of the information regarding a certain hero and one of his acts.

The story was rather interesting even though it didn't garner major media coverage when the event happened. The article's heading, written in bold letters, read as follows: 

'Hero's Misstep in Hostage Crisis Leads to Tragedy: Flames Claim Father's Life After Rescue Attempt Goes Awry'

Below the title was the photo of the hero in question. He was a man with messy brown hair and black eyes, with his hero costume consisting of a blue and white, skin-tight, long-sleeved shirt that tucked into his orange gloves. To top it off, the hero sported dark pants, white boots, and a sports signature helmet that featured a fish-like fin and a blue visor.

He was none other than a Pro-Hero who went by the name Manual, a relatively new and upcoming hero in Japan, who graduated only a few years ago.

Right below the image of the hero, there was a small section that gave a brief synopsis of the hero's quirk, which was prevalent for most heroes with the key exception of All Might. His quirk was 'Water Control,' allowing him to manipulate small amounts of water with his fingers.

"Despite his best intentions, this hero seems to bite off more than he can chew, leading to occasional lapses in judgement…" Kramer muttered to himself, the blue light from the screen hitting his eyes in the dimly lit room. He scrolled and read more of the article, ignoring the occasional ad pop-up to the side that subconsciously irked him.

The article highlighted how Manual was called to a domestic dispute that had escalated to a hostage situation. The perpetrator, an emotionally unstable man with a minor fire-based quirk, was holding his wife and child at bay after finding evidence that she was committing adultery and the child wasn't his, threatening to burn the house down if anyone intervened.

Manual, recognizing the danger, attempted to resolve the situation without calling for backup, believing that his water manipulation could subdue the threat. Kramer couldn't help but snicker, noting down the details on a personal notepad of his. "Irresponsible…" he muttered under his breath quietly before he resumed scrolling.

As Manual tried to use his quirk to douse the flames and calm the situation, his limited control over water backfired. The small amounts of water he could manipulate were not enough to fully counter the fire quirk, and in the chaos, the criminal's quirk went out of control, resulting in severe burns to the wife and child, with the eventual death of the perpetrator. 

The Jigsaw leaned back on his swivel chair, crossing his arms and resting them on his chest. "Good intentions," he started. "But he underestimated the consequences of his actions and the limits of his abilities. Reckless actions lead to endangered lives…"

It was at this moment that Kramer heard the door creek behind him. "Must be the wind," he said to himself, as he got up and turned around to close the door properly, but was met with something else.

Leaning on the doorframe was a masked individual, who had a long ponytail, and was adorned with sharp weaponry. Despite how armed he was, the man didn't speak with any malice or position himself in a way that he wanted to fight. 

"It took a while to find you, Jigsaw," he spoke calmly, his voice slightly muffled by his mask. Kramer gave the figure a warm smile as if he was happy that he'd had found or met him. "You must be Stendhal, the vigilante," the person, known known as Stendhal, nodded.

Stendhal analyzed Jigsaw's body language with intense eyes. Even if practically nobody except a handful of individuals knew of his actions as of this moment (such as Shinohara Yuki), Stendhal was aware of the aura that preceded this man.

He didn't see a villain before him. No, what he saw was something far more complex — a kindred spirit, perhaps, or a threat to his own ideals.

"You're an interesting one, Jigsaw," Stendhal began, his voice calm but with a hint of curiosity. "The city's been whispering about you — about how you don't kill, but challenge. Criminals are your targets, and for that, I can't say I disapprove. But what's your endgame?"

Kramer's eyes narrowed slightly. He had expected this meeting, though perhaps not so soon. Stendhal was a wildcard, a vigilante who could be an ally or an adversary, depending on how this conversation went.

"My endgame?" Karmer echoed, his voice steady and measured. 

"It's simple, really. This society of superpowers, when unchecked and unchallenged, corrupts people absolutely. Quirks are a gift that enables humanity to solve problems far bigger and faster than we are. But the people who misuse and abuse it — be they criminals, heroes, or anyone in between — must be tested. They must be shown the consequences of their actions and become better people."

Stendhal tilted his head slightly, intrigued by the philosophy that mirrored some of his own beliefs. "Absolute power corrupts absolutely… It's an old saying, but a true one," he mused. "But I see it differently. It's not that absolute power corrupts… no, absolute power reveals absolutely. It amplifies us, making us more of who we truly are."

Kramer didn't respond immediately, instead letting the words hang in the air. He could hear the conviction in Stendhal's voice, the passion that drove him. But passion alone wasn't enough to change the world.

"You're right, in a way," Kramer conceded. "Power does reveal who we truly are. But that revelation is meaningless without consequence. People don't change because they see the truth… they change because they're forced to confront it, to suffer for it."

Stendhal crossed his arms as he spoke again. "And that's where we differ," he said, his tone more serious. "I seek to reveal the truth through force, but not through needless suffering. The criminals I've dealt with — they're scum, unworthy of mercy. But heroes… heroes are different."

It was almost amusing to Kramer, how someone so close to the truth could be so blind to it. "Unworthy of mercy? Heroes are different?" Kramer retorted in a way that was almost mocking, but somehow still maintained a sense of professionalism in how he carried himself.

"Heroes are no different from the criminals you despise," Kramer countered, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "They're also capable of corruption. And thus, need to be tested, to be shown that their actions have consequences. Otherwise, we're no better than the system that allows criminals to operate unchecked."

Stendhal's eyes narrowed beneath his mask. Out of all the points that the Jigsaw in front of him made, this was the part of the philosophy that he couldn't fully accept. The idea that heroes — those who risked their lives to protect others — could be as flawed as the villains they fought. It was an impossible fact for him to accept wholeheartedly.

"But targeting heroes… that's a line I'm not willing to cross. They're the last bastion against chaos, against the real monsters out there. If we start testing them, where does it end?" Stendhal replied, his voice almost a growl.

Kramer's gaze hardened. This was the crux of their disagreement, the fundamental difference in their ideologies. But he knew that Stendhal wasn't as rigid as he appeared. There was doubt in his voice, doubt that could be nurtured… shaped even.

"It ends where it should have begun," Kramer stated, his voice cold but unwavering. "With accountability. If heroes are truly righteous, they will survive the test. If they're not, then they deserve to fall, just like the criminals you hunt."

For a moment, there was silence. Stendhal stared at Kramer, weighing his words, wrestling with the implications of what he was saying. Though his eyes were covered by the mask he wore, Kramer could see the conflict brewing within him — the battle between his desire for justice and the reality of the flawed world they lived in.

"Perhaps you're right," Stendhal finally admitted, though his voice was heavy with reluctance. "But you tread over a tightrope, Jigsaw."

Kramer inclined his head slightly, accepting this small victory. He didn't need Stendhal to agree with him fully — not yet. All he needed was for the seed of doubt to be planted, to grow over time. If there was anything in this world that he needed, it was allies.

"Then let's not waste any more time debating," Kramer said, shifting the conversation. "If you believe in your cause, if you believe that criminals must be punished, then help me. Help me bring them to justice."

Stendhal hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I'll help you… for now," he said firmly. "Let's bring accountability to those who think they're above it."

"Agreed," Kramer replied, extending his hand. Stendhal took his hand, sealing the uneasy alliance between them. As they released their grip, Kramer's mind was already at work, planning the next steps, the next test. But before they parted ways, he had one final request.

"There's a person I've been observing," Kramer said, his voice low and calculating. "A man going by Manual. He's a hero, but he's not without his flaws. I want to test him, to see if he's truly worthy of the title."

Stendhal frowned but nodded slowly. "Manual… I know of him. He's not like the others, but if this is part of our agreement, I'll help you. I'll bring him to you." Kramer nodded in return, satisfied. "Good. Then let's get to work."

The two parted ways, each lost in their thoughts. For Stendhal, it was a step into unfamiliar territory, a path that he wasn't sure he wanted to follow. For Kramer, it was just another move in a much larger game — a game that was only just beginning.