[4] Deal with the Devil

"This is the end of the road for you, problem child."

I sized up Eraserhead, my mind racing through options. One-on-one with a pro hero? Not great odds. But down in the warehouse... bodies to dodge behind, things to throw, places to hide. Yeah, that could work.

"Problem child? We both know I'm way more fun than that," I quipped, edging towards the roof's edge.

Eraserhead's capture weapon lashed out. I ducked, feeling it whisper past my ear. Close. Too close.

"Fun isn't the word I'd use," he growled, those red eyes never leaving me.

I grinned beneath my mask. "No? How about... exciting?"

With that, I threw myself backwards off the roof.

For a heart-stopping moment, I was in freefall. Then my hands found the drainpipe I'd spotted earlier. I slid down, the metal hot against my gloves.

I hit the ground running, making a beeline for the warehouse door. Behind me, I heard Eraserhead's boots hit the pavement. He was fast, but I had a head start.

I burst through the door, immediately diving behind a stack of crates. Not a second too soon – Eraserhead's capture weapon snapped through the air where I'd been.

"Well, well," that sultry voice from earlier purred. "Looks like our little mouse decided to play after all."

I peeked around the crate. Six figures stood scattered around the warehouse. The woman who'd spoken – Midnight, I realized with a jolt – lounged against a pillar, a predatory smile on her face.

Great. Just great.

"Come on out, kid," the gruff voice from earlier called. Snipe, by the looks of him. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

I snorted. "Has anyone in the history of ever chosen the hard way when you say that?"

A chuckle rumbled through the warehouse. That deep voice from before. "He's got a point, Snipe."

I scanned the room, my mind working overtime. Eraserhead at my back, Midnight and Snipe in front. The others I didn't recognize, but they all had the stance of trained fighters.

Not great odds. But not impossible.

I took a deep breath, centering myself. No quirk while Eraserhead had eyes on me. Fine.

I grabbed a loose bolt from the floor and hurled it at the lights above Midnight's head. As it shattered, plunging that corner into darkness, I moved.

I darted between crates, keeping low. A capture weapon whistled over my head. I grinned. Eraserhead was good, but in this chaos, even he couldn't keep eyes on me all the time.

I popped up behind Snipe, tapping him on the shoulder. "Hey, quick question. How accurate are you when you can't breathe?"

Before he could answer, I drove my elbow into his solar plexus. As he doubled over, gasping, I used his back as a springboard, launching myself towards Midnight.

She was ready for me, that whip of hers cracking through the air. I twisted mid-air, feeling it graze my side.

I landed in a roll, coming up with a piece of broken crate in my hand. As Midnight's whip came at me again, I caught it, wrapping it around the wood.

"Sorry, beautiful," I said, yanking hard. "I don't really do the whole bondage thing."

Midnight stumbled forward, off-balance. I used the moment to dash past her, making for the far side of the warehouse.

A wall of muscle stepped into my path. The owner of that deep voice – Vlad King, I realized. He grinned down at me, cracking his knuckles.

"End of the line, kid," he rumbled.

I skidded to a stop, dropping into a fighting stance. "You know, people keep saying that to me. It's getting kinda old."

Vlad King laughed. "Got spirit, I'll give you that. But spirit won't save you here."

He swung, a massive fist aimed right at my head. I ducked under it, feeling the wind of its passage ruffle my hair.

"Maybe not," I grunted, driving my knee into his stomach. It was like kneeing a brick wall. "But it sure makes things interesting."

I danced back, putting some space between us. My eyes darted around, looking for an opening, a way out.

That's when I saw it. A gap in the roof, probably for ventilation. If I could get up there...

A capture weapon wrapped around my ankle. I stumbled, twisting to see Eraserhead reeling me in like a fish on a line.

"Aw, come on," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Don't you know it's rude to interrupt?"

His eyes glowed red, nullifying my quirk. But that was okay. I'd been waiting for this.

As he pulled me closer, I let him. Then, at the last second, I dropped, using his own momentum against him. He stumbled forward, his concentration breaking for just a moment.

A moment was all I needed.

I felt my quirk surge back to life, drawing in the kinetic energy from Eraserhead's movement. I channeled it into my legs, using it to propel myself up and away.

For a second, I thought I'd made it. I was airborne, sailing towards that gap in the roof. Freedom was just inches away.

Then something wrapped around my waist, yanking me back down. I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of me.

Eraserhead stood over me, his capture weapon retracting. "Nice try, kid. But it's over."

I tried to move, to get up, but my limbs felt like lead. A sweet scent filled the air, and I saw Midnight approaching, a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Oh honey," she purred, "you put up such a good fight. But now it's time for your beauty sleep."

I felt my consciousness slipping away, darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. But even as I faded, I couldn't help but grin.

"Hey, Midnight," I slurred, fighting to keep my eyes open. "Do you... do you think I could get your autograph before you knock me out?"

The last thing I heard before everything went black was Midnight's surprised laugh.

"Oh, I like this one," she said. "Can we keep him?"

I came to with a groan, my head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. The first thing I noticed was the smell – polished wood and old books, a far cry from the musty warehouse. I cracked open an eye, wincing at the light.

A lush office swam into focus. Bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with tomes that looked older than me. A large desk dominated the room, its surface neat and organized. In the corner, a projector hummed quietly, throwing images onto a pull-down screen.

I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my brain. As my vision sharpened, I felt my stomach drop.

The footage on the screen was me. Unmistakably me, in my night-time getup, darting between shadows and scaling buildings. The date in the corner read April 15, 2170.

Seven months ago.

I watched, a weird mix of pride and dread churning in my gut, as the footage cycled through job after job. Me outsmarting security systems, dodging patrols, making off with valuables and cash.

They had it all. Every job, every mistake, every close call.

I tore my eyes away from the screen, taking stock of the rest of the room. The door was closed, but probably not locked. A large window offered a view of what looked like school grounds. U.A., if I had to guess.

For a moment, I considered making a break for it. The window wasn't that high up. With my quirk, I could probably survive the fall.

But then what?

They knew my face, my name. They knew where I lived, who my sister was. Hell, they probably knew what I had for breakfast this morning.

Running wouldn't solve anything. It'd just make things worse.

I slumped back in the chair, resigning myself to waiting. Maybe if I played my cards right, I could limit the damage. Keep Noel out of it, at least.

Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an hour. I tried to come up with a plan, an explanation, anything. But my mind kept circling back to one thought: I was so, so screwed.

The door opened, and I straightened up, schooling my features into what I hoped was a neutral expression.

A tall, pale man with messy black hair walked in. Eraserhead, out of costume. On his shoulder perched... was that a mouse? A bear? Some weird combo of both?

The animal – because what else could I call it? – hopped down onto the desk with surprising grace. It... he?... straightened his little suit (and wasn't that a trip) and fixed me with a penetrating stare.

"Ah, young Sakamoto," he said. "I trust you slept well?"

"Uh, yeah," I managed. "Nothing like a face full of knockout gas to really refresh you, you know?"

The creature – who I was starting to suspect was the principal I'd heard mentioned earlier – chuckled. "Yes, Midnight does have that effect on people. Would you care for some tea?"

I shook my head, remembering my manners at the last second. "No, thanks. I'm good."

The principal nodded, pouring himself a cup. "Very well. I suppose you're wondering why you're here."

I glanced at the screen, still cycling through my greatest hits. "I've got a few guesses."

"Yes, well," he said, taking a sip of his tea. "It seems you've been quite busy these past few months, Mr. Sakamoto."

I stayed silent, waiting. No point in digging myself deeper.

The principal set down his cup, folding his paws on the desk.

"Akira Sakamoto," the principal began, his voice calm but authoritative. "Born April 3rd, 2154. Quirk: Kinetic Assimilation. Parents: Yoichi and Miyuki Sakamoto, both presumed deceased in an incident six years ago."

I flinched at the mention of my parents, a dull ache blooming in my chest. Six years, and it still hurt like it was yesterday.

The principal continued, either not noticing or choosing to ignore my reaction. "Following the incident, you were taken in by your aunt – or should I say sister? – Noel Sakamoto. You were eleven at the time. She was seventeen."

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling up. "Leave Noel out of this. She's got nothing to do with... with any of it."

The principal held up a paw. "Peace, young Sakamoto. We're merely establishing the facts."

Eraserhead, who'd been leaning against the wall, spoke up. "Your sister's not in trouble, kid. You, on the other hand..."

I slumped back in my chair, the fight draining out of me. "Yeah, I figured."

The principal picked up a file from his desk. "Your teachers describe you as bright but unmotivated. 'Could be top of the class if he applied himself,' seems to be a common refrain. Your quirk is noted as being particularly versatile and powerful, with potential for both rescue and combat applications."

He paused, looking at me. "And yet, instead of pursuing a path that could utilize these gifts legally, you chose... this."

He gestured to the screen, where footage of me pocketing a fistful of cash played on loop.

"What can I say? I'm an entrepreneur."

The principal set down the file, his expression grave. "Mr. Sakamoto, do you know how much you've stolen over the past seven months?"

I stayed silent. I had a rough idea, but I wasn't about to admit to anything.

"Our estimates put it at around 15 million yen," the principal said.

I whistled, impressed despite myself. Had it really been that much?

"That's... quite a sum for someone your age," the principal continued. "I'm curious – what did you do with all that money?"

I shifted uncomfortably. The truth was, most of it was still hidden in my room. I'd used some to help with bills, slipping it to Noel's purse when she wasn't looking. Bought some new clothes, upgraded my gear. But the bulk of it? Just sitting there, waiting for... something.

"Look," I said, leaning forward. "I get it. I messed up. Big time. But can we just... get to the point? What happens now?"

The principal and Eraserhead exchanged a look. Something passed between them, some unspoken communication that set my nerves on edge.

"That," the principal said slowly, "depends on you, Mr. Sakamoto."

I blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The principal stood, pacing behind his desk. "You see, we find ourselves in a... unique position. On one hand, we have a young man who's committed numerous crimes. Theft, breaking and entering, quirk use without a license... the list goes on."

I winced. When he put it like that, it sounded pretty bad.

"On the other hand," he continued, "we have a student with immense potential. A powerful quirk, quick thinking, adaptability in high-stress situations. All qualities we look for in our hero course."

I froze. Surely he wasn't suggesting...

"Are you... are you offering me a place at U.A.?"

Eraserhead fixed me with a hard stare. "We're offering you a choice, kid."

The principal nodded. "Indeed. Option one: we turn over all evidence of your activities to the police. You'll likely face juvenile detention, followed by a criminal record that will follow you for the rest of your life."

I swallowed hard. That... that wasn't great.

"Option two," the principal continued, "you enroll in U.A.'s hero course. You'll be on probation, of course. One step out of line, and it's back to option one. But if you complete the course successfully, graduate, and become a licensed hero... well, let's just say certain youthful indiscretions might be overlooked."

I stared at them, waiting for the punchline. When none came, I laughed. I couldn't help it. The whole situation was just so absurd.

"You're serious?" I asked, once I'd caught my breath. "You want me to become a hero?"

Eraserhead's eyes narrowed. "We want to give you a chance to use your skills for good. To make up for the harm you've caused. Whether you take that chance... that's up to you."

I leaned back, my mind whirling. U.A. The top hero school in the country. The place that had produced All Might, Endeavor, Best Jeanist... and now they wanted me?

It was insane. It was a trap. It was...

It was a way out.

But still, something nagged at me. "Why?" I asked. "Why go to all this trouble? Why not just turn me in?"

The principal smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Let's just say we have a vested interest in keeping young people with powerful quirks on the right side of the law. Especially those who've shown... shall we say, a propensity for less than legal activities."

I got the message loud and clear. They'd rather have me where they could keep an eye on me than risk me going full villain.

"And Noel?" I asked. "What happens to her in all this?"

"Your sister will be informed of the situation," the principal said. "But as she had no knowledge of your activities, she won't face any legal consequences."

I nodded, relief washing over me. At least there was that.

"So," Eraserhead said, his tone impatient. "What's it gonna be, kid? Jail or school?"

I looked at them, then at the screen still playing my greatest hits. Then I thought of Noel, of how hard she'd worked to give me a chance at a better life.

I thought of Mr. Nakamura, insisting I had potential. Of Rin, believing I could be a hero.

Maybe... maybe they were right.

I took a deep breath, making my decision. "Alright," I said, meeting the principal's gaze. "I'm in. Sign me up for hero school."

The principal's smile widened, showing too many teeth. "Excellent choice, Mr. Sakamoto. Welcome to U.A. University."

As I shook his paw, sealing the deal, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

But hey, at least it wouldn't be boring.