1 Demon

The figure hummed to himself as he strolled across the rooftop, the noise lightly reverberating through the chilly air in a way that only a quirk could truly achieve. A somewhat cheerful tune that didn't belong in the part of town they were in.

Of course, if someone were to spare more than a glance at him, they would realize that almost nothing about the figure belonged anywhere near the run-down, crime-infested part of Musutafu that he was in.

He wore a crisp, clean, bloodred dress shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks. Over top of which was a black vest and tie. All of it was perfectly tailored to his body and looked to be quite expensive. On his hands were a pair of black leather gloves, ensuring that no skin was showing below the neck. Even his shoes, a pair of black combat boots, reinforced with steel at the heel and toe, looked much too clean and well-kempt.

Then there was the mask he wore. It was a kitsune half-mask, covering his eyes and nose. Following the rest of his color scheme, it was mostly black with red accents under the eyes, along the bridge of the nose, and on the forehead. The metallic material it was made of gleamed in the moonlight as he walked along, still humming that same tune.

All of that, combined with his more notable physical features – a pair of pitch-black horns curling back over his head and a pair of equally dark, leathery wings – and he stood out quite a bit. Not to mention the fact that he was walking along a roof in the middle of the night in the first place.

Coming to the edge of the rooftop, he didn't even slow as he casually jumped over to the next one, the same way one might hop over a puddle on the sidewalk, his wings flaring ever so slightly to maintain his balance.

Normally, he wouldn't be moving so casually. He'd be flying, or at the very least walking at a pace that wasn't nearly so leisurely as he patrolled the rooftops and back alleys that saw far too much activity late at night. But tonight, he wasn't concerned with covering as much ground as possible. He had a specific prey planned, and knew exactly where they were. So, he knew that he had plenty of time to make his way there, where he would proceed to make a group of people extremely unhappy.

He had just reached the edge of that building, grinning at the thought of what he was going to do, and was about to jump again when he was broken from his thoughts by a scuffle in the alleyway beneath him. Crouching down, he peered over the edge to inspect the disturbance.

There were two men, one backed up against the wall of the building the figure was watching from, and the other a few feet away with a gun in his hand, pointed at the first. A mugging, most likely.

He strained his eyes a bit, focusing on the one with the gun, and information started filling his mind.

[Name: Sotan Okabe]

[Quirk: Spectrum]

[Mutative quirk that allows the user to change their eye color. Each color has a corresponding effect on their eyesight: Night vision, Thermal vision, Magnification, UV protection, and X-ray. The user's natural eye color corresponds with normal sight. Changes between colors are achieved through conscious activation, but require no focus or thought to maintain.]

"Oh~." He said under his breath as he finished processing the information. "Isn't that interesting."

Without another thought, he stood back up, before stepping off the building into open space. He fell silently, his wings flaring out to slow his fall. He landed just to the side of the mugger, a few feet away, just loud enough to attract his attention; he didn't want to startle them into shooting the other by accident.

"Who-?" Okabe started, turning towards the intruder, but he didn't get a chance to finish that question as the figure slammed into him.

One hand closed around his throat, lifting him into the air effortlessly, while the other gripped the hand holding the gun at the wrist, forcing it into the air, creaking from the force he was using. He twisted the appendage around, forcing them to drop the gun once it became too painful.

He spared a glance at the first man, ensuring that they were unharmed, before turning back to Okabe.

Up close, the man looked like a mess. Greasy, unkempt hair, ragged clothes, and -God the smell. He had to fight the urge to wrinkle his nose as the stench hit him full force. It was as though he'd been rolling around in a dumpster for the last few years.

Then, slightly less obvious, was the sweaty, clammy skin and unnaturally dilated pupils.

'A junkie, then.' He figured. 'Obviously high on whatever his drug of choice is.'

He smirked at them, dropping their wrist. Drug addict or no, it didn't change what Okabe was about to do to the other man, or what he was now going to do to them. "Now then, Sotan Okabe, why don't you come with me?"

He thoroughly enjoyed the look of panicked confusion that appeared on the criminal's face when they realized that he knew their name. Their eyes bulged outward and his mouth opened as if to ask a question, but with the hand around his throat that was just tight enough to prevent anything other than the shallowest breaths, he was left looking like a fish out of water.

The figure crouched down, spreading his wings. Keeping a firm grip on the criminal, he launched the two of them into the air. They rose higher with each beat until they were at the roof he had jumped down from. He threw Okabe onto the building, before lightly touching down a few short feet away.

"You know, Okabe." He began, walking forward as the criminal tried to scramble back. "You have such an interesting quirk. One that would've been quite useful for a hero. Or any number of professions really, with such a wide range of applications. It's a shame you had to resort to drugs and mugging innocent people." He slowly removed one of his gloves as he spoke, one finger at a time, revealing his hand.

Okabe had run out of room, his back hitting an air conditioning unit for the building they were on. He could only watch in fear as the figure continued to approach him, the smirk on his face promising nothing good.

"A true shame."

In a flash, the figure was crouched in front of Okabe, clamping the ungloved hand over his mouth, pinning him in place.

"Now, what I'm about to do to you is going to hurt, quite a bit, but I'd appreciate it if you could do your best not to scream." He said, his smirk growing even more malicious. "After all, this is really all your fault, isn't it? You had every opportunity to not threaten an innocent person like that."

Okabe's eyes screwed in confusion for a moment, before blowing open to the size of saucers. A ragged scream tore itself from his throat as his back arched off the roof and he gripped and clawed at the hand that held him down.

The figure just chuckled as Okabe screamed into his hand. He knew exactly what they were experiencing. It would feel as though their heart was being dug out of their chest with a rusty knife, and his eyes – the part of his body that his quirk was centered around – would feel like they were on fire.

He'd never experienced the pain for himself, obviously, but there were few quirks that he encountered that he researched as extensively as his own.

Before long – only a moment or two – he could feel a heat being drawn out of the criminal and into his hand. It traveled down his arm and settled firmly in his chest.

He enjoyed the screams of the petty criminal beneath his hand; the sound like music to his ears. He could've made it less painful for them – so, so much less; like the difference between pulling a splinter and ripping out a barbed arrowhead – but why do that when he could use it as an opportunity to thoroughly punish someone who'd done something wrong? And really, what crueler punishment was there? To experience pain so excruciating that it usually knocks them unconscious, only to then wake up and realize that they could no longer use their quirk.

He released Okabe once he was done, the man collapsing in a pitiful heap, barely conscious. He reached over and placed a finger on their neck, making sure that they still had a pulse after going through that. He was pleased when he confirmed that they did; he might enjoy punishing criminals, but he did not necessarily wish to kill them.

Standing up, he focused on the new heat in his chest. As he did, he felt it move up to his eyes, settling just behind them. He closed his eyes, still focusing on the heat. When he opened them, the world around him was suffused in blacks and blues, not much different from how it was before, until he looked down. The roof, and the roof of the surrounding buildings had a light green hue, still slightly warm from the day before. Beyond that, he could see points of red and orange; people settled in for the night shift in whatever office building he was standing on.

He blinked again, this time the world appeared almost as bright as if the sun had risen back into the sky, but washed in green.

Closing his eyes again, he pulled the heat back into his chest. When he opened them, the world was back to its normal darkness, barely illuminated by the moon above.

"Quite interesting indeed." He murmured, before looking down at his ungloved hand. He grimaced as he rubbed his fingers together; he could feel the filth he'd picked up just from touching Okabe. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket – normally he would just wipe his hand on the fallen criminal, but clearly that wasn't an option right now – he wiped away the mixture of dirt, sweat, and grease. Satisfied that he no longer felt as though he'd been digging around a dumpster, he pocketed the handkerchief, before pulling his glove back on and covering his hand once more.

Digging a phone out of his pocket, he scrolled down to a familiar contact and brought it up to his ear. He waited for a few rings before hearing an obnoxious tone, followed by the automated voice informing him that the number was no longer in service.

He frowned at the device. "Hmph. Asshole."

"Did he change his number again?" A voice in his ear questioned.

A sigh. "Yes, he did. This is like, the fourth time in as many months. You'd think at some point this would start getting too inconvenient for him."

"Want me to find the new one?"

"Please do."

A few moments passed in silence, before, "Alright, I've got it. It's been added to your phone."

"Thanks." He replied, scrolling to find the new number, once again raising it to his ear as it started to ring.

This time, after a few moments, it was answered by a voice that sounded utterly exhausted. Not surprising, given that they were still awake at such a time.

"Detective Tsukauchi speaking. Who is this?"

"Tsukauchi!" He practically cheered. "Why did you change your phone number again? And without even telling me, no less. You know that's quite rude."

He smirked as he heard the detective let out a groan, along with the distinct sound of a forehead hitting a desk.

"Oni." They grumbled. "How exactly do you keep getting my number?"

"I'll let you in on a little secret, Tsukauchi." Oni said. "I'm actually God. That's how I do it."

"…I'm hanging up now."

"Wow. Rude. And after I went through all the trouble of getting you a present."

He heard a long-suffering sigh on the other side. "What did this one do?"

"It was just a mugging. Pretty cut and dry." He said, shrugging, even though there was no one to see it. "The aggressor is one Sotan Okabe. I've left them on a roof for you to come collect. I'll send you the location."

"Alright, fine." The detective responded. "And the victim?"

"They're fine, I think. There weren't any visible injuries. They were still in the alleyway when I grabbed Okabe. He might still be there if you get here quick enough."

Another sigh. "Okay. I'll send a patrol car to come pick them up. Goodbye, Oni."

"What? No 'thank you'? I went out of my way to pick this guy up for you, Tsukauchi."

"I'll say thank you if you decide to finally turn yourself in."

Oni laughed at that. "Hmm. That's actually kind of tempting, if only just to hear something resembling gratitude from you. But I think I'll pass for now; I've still got so much to do with myself."

"Oh yeah!" He added, before the other could hang up. "You might want to keep a few officers on standby. I'm going to have a few more presents for you later."

"You're going after a group tonight, aren't you?" Tsukauchi asked with a resigned tone.

"Yep~" He responded. "Drug traffickers. The boring, regular kind though, not trigger."

"You know. You could just act like a normal citizen and report the location to the police, so that way we can handle it and you don't give me a mountain of paperwork to take care of."

"Sorry, but no such luck Tsukauchi. You and I both know that would take way too long to actually do much good. Now I, on the other hand, can go in with no notice and have it handled in less than an hour. Quick and easy."

"Tell you what, though." He said, cutting off Tsukauchi's response. "If it makes you feel better, I'll give you the address. Then you can see if Eraserhead is available to come play. That way you can credit him with taking down the criminals. Less paperwork for you if it's a hero that does it, right?"

"Fine." The other answered after a moment. "Send me the address and I'll pass it along. If only so he might be able to capture you and put you out of my misery."

Oni let out another laugh. "Sure thing Tsukauchi. I'll send the location in a few minutes." He said, before ending the call and sending the first address; the one for Okabe.

With that done, he pocketed his phone, shooting another glance at the fallen criminal. His smile fell as he turned away, continuing his walk where he'd been interrupted, hopping over to the next building.

He thought back to his conversation with the detective. Oni really did like Tsukauchi, even though the man would probably want nothing more than to put Oni behind bars. He was likely one of the most competent members of the police force, at least in Musutafu. And, as much as Oni probably annoyed him, Tsukauchi always took what he had to say seriously – years of working in such a relationship had earned him some form of trust from the man – and he always prioritized the safety of civilians and the apprehension of criminals over capturing him.

It was nice, especially considering that Oni was a vigilante and that most heroes and police officers would try to capture him on-sight.

The voice in his ear spoke up again, drawing him from his thoughts.

"You might want to pick up the pace. I'm watching the cameras and it looks like they're getting ready to move some product."

He let out a small sigh. And here he was thinking that he might be able to enjoy a leisurely stroll before putting a few drug dealers in the hospital. "Alright, I'm on it."

Oni spread his wings again, taking a few running steps before launching himself into the air. In just a few wing beats he was soaring over the city, the buildings beneath him passing at a much quicker pace. It wasn't long before the target location came into view.

An old warehouse, probably abandoned by whoever had originally owned it. Now being used by group of useless, petty criminals. He'd known about this location for a while, of course – there wasn't much criminal activity that occurred in this city that he didn't know about – but it wasn't a matter of simply dealing with them as soon as he found out. There needed to be a system with these things.

If he wanted to, Oni could go out and clear away most of the small-time criminal groups that he knew about in a single week; if he really pushed himself, he could get it done in a day or two. But if he did that, then anyone that he couldn't get to in time would scatter like rats, only to start up again somewhere else.

Doing it this way – only periodically taking a group in when he felt like it, or when they got too rowdy for his liking – he was able to keep an eye on everything and, more or less, control the tide of crime.

And despite what he'd told Tsukauchi, he did actively feed information to the police, albeit anonymously; he didn't want them to know just how much he was aware of. Some of the more isolated groups, that didn't have much association with others – meaning no one would bat an eye if the police started investigating them – he'd leave to them.

He circled around the building a few times, checking for any guards that might be keeping an eye on the outside. He was slightly disappointed when he didn't see any at all. Even using the new quirk he'd acquired from Okabe, switching over to thermal vision, didn't reveal anyone. The warehouse itself was full of the bright red signatures, fourteen in total, but there was no one outside.

Any apprehension he might've felt at going against a group of criminals, had there been any in the first place, would've just vanished entirely with that discovery. No group that was actually worth anything would fail to watch for enemies, especially if they were moving products. They'd have lookouts on or around the building or, even better, on the surrounding buildings. It was disappointing, especially since his ever-present ally in his ear had already confirmed that there were no cameras on the outside of the building.

Of course, it was possible that they had some other means to watch for people – a quirk maybe, or some camera or sensor that was miraculously hidden from his ally – but still, even the mere presence of guards worked to dissuade challengers.

He touched down next to the building, in front of the massive loading doors. Pulling out his phone, he quickly sent the location of the warehouse to Tsukauchi, before stuffing it back in his pocket.

"Could you please keep an eye on Eraserhead?" He asked. "Let me know if he starts heading this way and, if he does, when he gets close."

"Will do." Came the response. "Be careful."

"Always."

He started forwards, moving towards the doors, humming a new tune. This one more suspenseful in nature as it echoed around him; his heart rate began to forcefully rise in response. As he walked, he began removing his gloves, then, once they were safely tucked into his pocket, rolling his sleeves up to sit neatly above his elbows. With his arms exposed, they started to change as he pulled on another quirk from his chest.

Scales appeared, just below his elbow, and traveled down his arm. When the scales reached his hands, the changes became more drastic; his fingers lengthened, bones cracked as they broke and reformed, and razor-sharp claws appeared out of the tips, adding a new level of danger to his hands.

As he stopped directly in front of the doors, he took a moment to take a deep breath, before a smile broke out on his face, one that was not friendly in any sense of the word.

Oni always enjoyed this part of a raid – or any fight really. The moment just before it all began. When he was seconds away from kicking down the door or throwing the first punch, with the unlucky criminals being none the wiser. In those seconds, he could feel his adrenaline spiking in anticipation for the coming fight. It was the calm before the storm, and he absolutely loved it.

With a single step forward, he thrust out his hand, stabbing through the giant, metal door. His arm, now covered in armor, wasn't even scratched by the torn metal. With next to no effort, he dragged his hand down to the ground, tearing a line through the door. He was starting to hear panicked voices from the inside.

He retracted the arm, before grabbing the door on either side of the new tear. With a loud screeching complaint from the metal, he dragged the two sides apart, creating an opening big enough for him to walk through.

When he did, he saw that what looked like everyone in the warehouse was now staring at him. It was exactly what he was going for. After all, what was the point in being a high-profile vigilante if he couldn't make high-profile entrances designed to scare the shit out of whoever he was going after?

Taking a look at all the criminals, he could see that he succeeded in a big way. They were all watching him with some mixture of fear, shock and panic. The sight of him tearing through a metal door effortlessly, combined with the grin on his face, which if anything had only become more dangerous, had very obviously achieved the desired effect.

He took another step forward, enjoying the way that several of them took a step back in response, before raising his arms out to his sides with a bit of flair.

"Good evening! Petty criminals!" He began. "If I'm correct, and I always am, you've been using this warehouse as a base from which to distribute drugs to dealers in this part of the city. I've come here to put a stop to all this nonsense. I decided that I would take down a group of criminals tonight, and you all drew the short straw!"

"Now then." He said, clapping his hands together. "Without any further ado. Shall we get started?"

He took note of their fear increasing with every word.

Good. Let them be afraid.

His muscles tensed as he prepared to rush forwards, to plunge the entire warehouse into chaos – he'd be able to put a few of them down before they could realize what exactly was happening and try to respond to it – but one of them, standing a bit closer to him and either braver than the others, or more stupid, called out before he did.

"Wait!" she yelled. "You're Oni, right? The vigilante?"

He wasn't surprised that he'd been recognized; he wasn't exactly concerned about keeping his existence a secret after all. Besides, he knew that it was probably his reputation, more than his entrance, that had scared them; he had a penchant for targeting groups like this, and taking them down, with no small amount of injuries to any who were involved. On top of that, he knew that there were rumors floating around the underground that some people who went up against him would mysteriously no longer be able to use their quirk.

He took it in stride, keeping his same smile in place as he addressed her. "I am indeed! I'm so glad to be recognized by a fan. What do you want? Trying to surrender?"

"You're an information broker, right?" she asked, ignoring the rest of what he said. Then after a nod in confirmation from Oni, she continued, "You make deals with people in exchange for knowledge? If we gave you something, would you be willing to leave us alone?"

She wasn't wrong per se; he was a sort of information broker in the underground. But he wasn't sure where she got the idea that he made deals for it. He usually just took from whoever had it and then sold it elsewhere.

Still, he made a show of considering it, bringing a hand up to his chin. "Hmm. I suppose I could. But then it would really depend on what sort of information you could give me."

He saw a small amount of relief in her face at what she perceived to be a small victory. She snapped her fingers at one of the others nearby and they ran off somewhere, likely to retrieve said information.

"We can give you names, and locations of our clients and some of our suppliers."

"Well now. That certainly is tempting." he said. "If all of that is true, then I might just have to leave you be and let you go about your business."

A few moments later, and the other one was back, carrying what seemed to be a leather-bound journal. It was probably a ledger of sorts, a non-digital method for keeping track of the people they dealt with; most groups like this had one. They handed the book to her, and she immediately tossed it over to him.

He very nearly rolled his eyes at the sheer stupidity of just handing it all over to him like that, without even bothering to negotiate any further, but he kept up his interested expression as he skimmed through it. Some of it was stuff he already had, retrieved from other criminals he had targeted, but a good deal of it was new.

"Well, this certainly is a lot of useful information." He said, closing the book and tucking it into his back pocket.

Oni saw her very nearly sigh in relief at his statement. Several of the others weren't quite so skilled in hiding their reactions. He felt a rush of anticipation at how quickly their relief was about to change.

She even had a smile on her face as she spoke again. "So you'll leave us alone now, right? What we gave you is good?"

"No." He said. "No, I don't think I will."

He almost burst out laughing at how quickly all of their relieved expressions went right back to fearful and panicked.

"What do you mean!?" She yelled. "We had a deal! We gave you what you wanted! You said you would leave us alone if we did!"

That time he actually did start laughing – more of a deranged giggle than anything else. Her stupidity was just that amusing.

"I lied, you idiot. What, you think I wouldn't have found this journal anyway once I was done dealing with you?" He asked, cocking his head. "Besides, it would seem that there's some confusion surrounding my role as an information broker. I sell to other vigilantes and the occasional underground hero, and sometimes I'll throw the police a bone and give them something. But I have never, nor will I ever, make a deal with criminals. I take from them whatever I want, and they deal with it."

Oni saw the panic hit her full force as she realized that the situation was still going to lead to a fight.

Ignoring it, he took a moment to scan through them, looking at their quirks, but he didn't see any that interested him. Something that was slightly disappointing; these raids usually ended up being all-you-can-eat-buffets.

There were, as he expected, a few of them with gun quirks; three in total; and just as many with some form of blade quirk. Now, he wasn't one to profile quirks as villainous – he really had no room to talk in that department with what his own quirk was – but if someone were to ask him what he thought a villainous quirk was, the first things that would come to mind were gun and blade quirks. It was just so common to see them in the criminals he fought. He'd yet to meet a regular civilian with a gun quirk – though he was fairly certain there was at least one working as a police officer somewhere in Tokyo – and he had met a stark few with blade quirks.

Then there was a hair control quirk, two that were minor gigantification mutations, one that was made of stone, with an extra set of arms, one who had a transformative quirk that made their arms larger, and then one last one that had a weapon-proficiency quirk. The last one was the only one that seemed to have an actual weapon; a spear of some sort.

The woman in front of him had an animal-aspect transformative quirk, and the man standing right next to her, the one who had retrieved the journal, had a very minor strength enhancer.

Well, he shouldn't say that none of those were interesting, they all were in some way or another, but none interested him enough to take them for himself; especially not when he'd already stumbled upon a gem earlier that night.

He had no use for a gun quirk, or another blade quirk, and he'd never let his hair grow long enough for the hair-control to be of any use – though he would admit that it might be good for attaining certain hairstyles. The gigantification and limb-growth quirks also wouldn't do him any good; he valued his clothes too highly to trade their destruction for any minor benefits those would provide. The extra limbs added by that mutative quirk might be nice, but again, he didn't want to destroy his clothes, and he didn't much care for how the stone skin looked, and why take a weapon proficiency quirk when he had no use for weapons?

The animal-aspect one wouldn't provide him anything that he didn't already have, and the same goes for the strength enhancer; he already had a few of those, and they were all stronger than this one.

He let out a small sigh. It was too bad that none of them had elemental quirks, or any of the rare, truly interesting ones that were hardly ever seen; like Nighteye's or Eraserhead's. He wished he could come across a criminal with quirks like theirs.

"Heads up." His ally spoke up. "Eraserhead has started moving towards you. You don't have long."

Speak of the devil- That was his cue; no more messing around.

Oni started walking forwards again. "Well then! As fun as it's been watching you all wet yourselves, I think it's about time to get this started. Don't you?"

Not giving them a chance to respond, he launched himself forward, straight at the one who had tried to negotiate with him. He grabbed her by the throat, much like he had with Okabe, and slammed her into the ground, her head bouncing on the concrete floor. She was out immediately, and he was pretty sure that he felt something break. Pivoting on one foot, he aimed a kick into the stomach of the other, sending them flying across the room. That time, he was positive that he'd felt at least a few ribs snap from the impact.

"Two down, twelve to go." He counted off in his head as he watched them ragdoll.

He stood back up, watching as everyone that was left caught up to what had just happened. Most of their expressions were shifting from fear, to anger, or in some cases, desperation.

Watching this happen, his grin became almost feral. While the calm before the storm was his favorite moment of a raid, this was a very close second; the moment when everything kicks off, when everyone involved knew that conflict was the only path forwards and the fight or flight instincts kicked in.

Now that everyone else was realizing this, things would be getting much more fun.

Before they could start retaliating, he pulled another quirk from his chest. It settled in his head, warming it in a way that only an intelligence quirk could.

With it in place, his brain was pushed to operate much faster than what should've been possible. The world around him slowed as he watched, giving him time to plan his path through the criminals.

He picked out the three with the gun quirks. Those would have to be dealt with first. He wasn't fast enough to dodge bullets, and he did not need any bullets holes in his clothes tonight; not when he was wearing his favorite vest. After them, he would take on the rest in whatever order they came to him.

He pushed another two quirks into his legs, sighing as he felt them settle.

Then, he moved.

The concrete floor beneath him cracked as he kicked off, aiming for the closest gun quirk. An elbow to the chest sent them flying and put them out of commission. The other two quickly followed in a similar fashion as he reached them.

"Five down, nine to go."

He was now standing in the rear of the group, the rest of them spinning to look at him as they realized what had just happened. Satisfied that he wasn't at any further risk from the gun quirks, he pulled back the quirk from his head, allowing the world to get back up to speed.

He wouldn't want this to get boring, now would he?

"Bastard!" One of the knife-quirks yelled at him, swinging a hand at him that had three blades extending from between the knuckles, reminiscent of a fictional superhero from before the appearance of quirks.

His own hand, covered in scales, flashed out, catching the blades. A quick squeeze, and the blades shattered, leaving the criminal screaming as they clutched at their hand. He delivered a punch to the side of their head while they were distracted by the pain, dropping them like a sack of potatoes.

'Six.'

At the sight of their comrades falling in quick succession, one of whom shrieking in pain before they fell, hair-control seemed to lose their nerve. They made a break for the door, for the hole he had created when he entered. But just as they squeezed through – an instant before he would've rushed forwards to break their legs for trying to run – a mass of white cloth wrapped around them, pulling them out of sight. A moment later, a very tired-looking man entered through the same hole, yellow goggles in place and capture weapon at the ready.

'Seven.'

Oni dodged an incoming flurry of punches from one of the giants, before calling out. "Eraserhead! You came for me! I knew you would, you can never pass up an opportunity to play!"

Said hero growled in frustration as a few of the criminals turned to look at him; they hadn't known that he was there until Oni announced it, effectively ruining his advantage of surprise.

"Tsukauchi said that you were causing problems. Asked me to come babysit you." Eraserhead grunted, yanking the spear out of the hands of the one with the weapon-proficiency quirk. A quick punch to the face followed by another to the gut put the offending criminal down.

'Eight.'

Dodging another fist from the giant, Oni jumped up, grabbing the criminals head and delivering a headbutt that drove them into the ground.

'Nine.'

He moved over to Eraserhead's side of the fight, standing next to the hero as they faced towards the remainder of the group.

"Come on Aizawa, don't be like that. I know you just wanted an opportunity to beat the shit out of some petty criminals."

He heard a hiss escape the mouth of the hero, before red eyes locked onto him; a testament to his anger. His scaled arms changed back to normal under the stare.

"Don't use that fucking name, Oni!"

He feigned surprise in response to the hero's anger, bringing a hand up to his chest. "What? How come? That is your name, isn't it?"

"Because we are literally standing in front of a group of criminals, and because I try very hard to keep my identity secret,"

"Oh please." Oni responded, rolling his eyes. "None of these pathetic pieces of garbage would do anything. They can barely even handle trafficking drugs."

"And besides, if they did," He turned back to the group, smirk taking on a deadly edge, and dialing up his bloodlust until he could see them start to sweat under the pressure he was exerting, "I'd find them. And I'd strangle each and every one of them with their own entrails for trying to mess with my favorite hero." The air around them shook with the force of his words; a nice side effect of one of the quirks he liked to use.

He almost laughed at the expressions decorating their faces; they were all so scared, it was beautiful; and, judging from the smell, at least one of them had soiled themselves.

"Whatever." Eraserhead snapped, turning back towards the criminals. "Let's just finish up the rest of them."

"Agreed." He responded, willing the transformation back into his arms.

Oni launched forward again, delivering a knee to the face of the other giant, before pivoting in air and throwing an axe kick down onto the head of one of the knife quirks.

'Eleven.'

Eraser, on the other hand, wrapped Giant-arms up with his capture weapon, erasing their quirk at the same time. He pulled them closer, throwing a punch at the same time to devastating effect.

'Twelve.'

The final two – the one made of stone and the final knife-quirk – seemed hesitant to do anything, having just watched twelve of their comrades fall in just a few short minutes. Oni didn't give them much time to think about it however, charging towards the stone one, aiming a kick at their head. They were just quick enough to bring up both sets of arms to block it, but the force of it still launched them into a wall. He followed through, slamming a fist into their stomach and knocking them back into the wall with enough force to crack it. They didn't get back up from where they fell.

When he turned back around, Eraserhead was securing the last knife-quirk, now unconscious, in his capture weapon.

Oni let out a satisfied sigh. "Well now. That was quite fun, if I do say so myself."

Eraserhead didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, just moving over to one of the fallen criminals to check their injuries.

"Do you want to call Tsukauchi to let him know it's done, Eraser, or shall I?"

"I'll do it." Came the answer. "You just get out of here and stop bothering me."

"Oh? You don't want to try to capture me? Are you sure? We always have such fun when you do."

The hero let out his own sigh. "The last time I tried that, I had to replace my capture weapon, and I'd really prefer not to do that again so soon. These things take a while to break in, and I'm not willing to put in that kind of effort just for you."

"You keep telling yourself that. But I know that the real reason is because you heard me say that you're my favorite hero."

"...Just get out of here before I change my mind."

"Alrighty then." He said, turning to walk towards his improvised doorway, waving a hand over his shoulder. "Bye Eraserhead! See you tomorrow. Maybe."

He didn't hear a response as he stepped out into the night. Stepping away from the building, he pulled back the quirk from his hands, losing the scales and claws. He then quickly unrolled the sleeves of his shirt, and replaced his gloves, before launching into the air once more.

Oni swiftly rose above the rooftops, and continued higher, until he was level with some of the tallest towers, deeper in the city, and began his trip home. The route he took was not a direct one. He backtracked, circled around, landed on a few decoy buildings before taking off again, all to make sure that anyone who might be following him, was thrown off as much as possible.

He knew that he was probably being paranoid and overly cautious – there weren't exactly a lot of people that could track someone in air – but by now it was a habit he'd fallen into whenever he went out for the night, and he felt it was necessary to protect the location of his home. That was because, in his home was the one thing he cared about more than anything else in the world. The one thing he would to any length to protect, even so far as to sacrifice his own wellbeing.

He'd tear the city apart before he let anyone get their hands on it.

It was nearly an hour after he left the warehouse when he finally arrived at his destination; one of the many towers that sat at the heart of his city. As he approached, he could see that the sun was starting to poke above the horizon. He touched down on a balcony on the top floor of the tower. It stretched almost the entire length of the building, with glass doors leading to a few rooms inside. He entered through one of them, into a decently-sized bedroom.

Oni let out a relieved sigh, letting his vigilante persona fade away and releasing the quirks he usually kept with it.

Home at last.

Reaching up to remove his mask, he made his way over to the connected bathroom. The mask was left with the rest of his clothes in a heap on the floor as he stepped into the shower, washing away the filth he'd accumulated during the night. A few minutes later, he stepped out, moving over to inspect his reflection in the mirror.

A pale face, clear of blemishes and adorned by a pair of deep, sapphire eyes, stared back at him. Close-cropped black hair decorated the top of his head, matching his horns.

He sighed, scrubbing at his face. He wasn't entirely pleased with this appearance if he were being honest – a bit too pale for his liking, and he would've preferred it if his eyes were red – but it worked for his vigilantism, so he was fine with it for now.

Looking back at the mirror, he pulled at another few quirks in his chest, and his features began to shift and change.

His black, ridged horns receded back into his head, where his hair went from black to dark green with pale blue roots, and went from short, to long and curly. His face shortened, becoming ever so slightly rounder. Freckles decorated his cheeks, and his skin darkened from an unhealthy pale to lightly tanned. His eyes shifted from blue, to the same green as his hair. His wings changed from pitch black, to a green that was a few shades lighter than his hair and eyes.

With that done, he picked out another quirk – one of his oldest –, this one drifting towards his legs when he activated it. He gripped the counter to keep his balance as the change took hold.

His legs morphed. Fusing and growing until they were larger around than his torso. They also grew longer, lengthening more and more until the now single appendage – a massive snake tail – was several times the length of his original body, coiling on the floor around him. Once it stopped, scales, a green as deep as his hair, appeared all along its length, beginning just beneath his navel.

At the same time, the warmth spread to his mouth. He felt his tongue lengthening in his mouth and splitting at the tip. It was a weird sensation that he felt he would never get used to, no matter how many times he had experienced it.

He flicked the newly changed appendage out of his mouth, collecting the scents in the room; soaps from the shower, sweat from the discarded clothes on the floor; and even further beyond; food from the day before, rich with the spices and ingredients used, and a host of other, minute smells that permeated the apartment, identifying it as unmistakably his.

With these changes to his appearance, Oni, the infamous vigilante, disappeared. And in his place, was Izuku Etsumi.