Chapter 21

Aizawa's eyes narrowed as he stared at the boy, a swirl of doubt and disbelief roiling inside him. The kid he'd spent days searching for—the one that he and Fat Gum thought would take considerable effort to track down—was standing right in front of him. Of all places, in the sister hospital they were investigating Doctor Hamazura Kyoya's disappearance. The odds seemed almost impossible.

The boy was exactly as the descriptions had said: white hair, messy and falling over his face, blood-red eyes that looked through you rather than at you, and a complexion so pale it was almost ghostly. There was something about him—something cold and detached, but also… dangerous. He wasn't just some lost kid.

Aizawa could feel the tension in the air between them. The silence stretched for just a moment too long.

"Oi." The boy's voice was sharp, laced with irritation. "If you've got nothing to say, stop staring at me like some kind of pervert." The words were said with the lazy disdain of someone who had long grown tired of dealing with people, and just as Aizawa opened his mouth to speak, the boy began to walk past him.

Something clicked in Aizawa then, pulling him out of his momentary stupor. Without thinking, he spoke, his voice steady. "Doctor Hamazura Kyoya."

The boy paused mid-step, his back still turned to Aizawa. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he glanced over his shoulder. His piercing red eyes locked onto the hero with a look that was equal parts curiosity and indifference. There was no alarm, no shock—just a quiet, sharp intelligence that seemed to be weighing Aizawa in an instant.

"Ever heard of him?" Aizawa asked, his voice calm, though his body was tensed, ready for anything.

For a moment, Accelerator said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, with a small, dismissive shrug, he turned back around. "Can't say that I have," he muttered. "And if I have… doubt I'd remember."

"You a cop?"

Aizawa didn't miss the casual tone, but it was clear the boy wasn't telling the whole truth, "Hero", he replied, to which the boy still showed no reaction. Aizawa's instincts, honed from years of dealing with unpredictable people, told him that much. But he pressed on, testing the waters further.

"What about Juliette Handell?"

This time, there was barely any hesitation before Accelerator spoke. "Nope. Sounds like some snot-nosed brat's name." The tone was mocking, almost bored, but again, Aizawa knew better. Accelerator was too controlled, too quick to deflect.

Then, Aizawa spoke the name he was certain would provoke a response. "Eri."

It was subtle, but Aizawa caught it—the brief flinch, the involuntary stiffening of the boy's posture. Accelerator's reaction was a crack in the otherwise impenetrable wall he had built around himself, and Aizawa seized on it. He didn't need to say anything else; the boy's body language had already given him more information than any words could.

Still, Accelerator didn't turn around this time. Instead, he remained silent for a few seconds, as if considering his next move carefully. "…Nah," he finally said, his voice quieter than before. "Never heard it in my life."

Aizawa's eyes stayed locked on the boy, studying him intently. He didn't call him out on the lie, though he could feel the tension growing thicker. Instead, he let the silence stretch as Accelerator began walking away again, his steps deliberate, measured. There was no sense in pushing him right now. A cornered animal was always more dangerous.

Aizawa didn't follow, but he didn't take his eyes off the boy as he disappeared down the hall. Once the boy was out of sight, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, immediately dialing Fat Gum. His voice was low, but there was a sense of urgency underlying it.

"Fat, call Tsukauchi," Aizawa ordered, his tone clipped. "Tell him I've found the kid."

On the other end of the line, Fat Gum's response was quick but concerned. "You want me there as backup?"

"No." Aizawa's answer was firm. "Don't send anyone else. It's better if I approach him myself, alone." He glanced down the hallway, where Accelerator had gone. "I've got a feeling the kid'll run if he's cornered."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "You sure about that? I'm great with kids!."

"I'm sure," Aizawa replied. The boy was dangerous, and something told him that a confrontation would only escalate things further than they needed to go. He was hiding something, no doubt about that, and Aizawa had a gut feeling that if he pushed too hard, too fast, he wouldn't get the answers he needed. Not to mention the strange connection to Eri—the flinch hadn't been an accident.

"Just make sure the staff know not to let him near any of the exits. Got it?"

"Understood." Fat Gum's voice was serious now. "I'll make sure the hospital's locked down and keep people from panicking. Be careful, Eraser."

Aizawa hung up, his eyes still fixed on the path Accelerator had taken. He knew this was a delicate situation. Whatever the kid was involved in, it was deeper and darker than what Aizawa had initially suspected. And the way he reacted to Eri's name only confirmed Aizawa's bad feeling: this wasn't just about the missing doctor or disappearances.

His mind raced with possibilities as he mentally prepared for his next move. One thing was clear—he couldn't let Accelerator slip away, not before finding out what he knew.

Accelerator slammed the door open with an urgency that made the air in the room thicken instantly. The moment he stepped inside, his sharp gaze scanned the space, his usual calm replaced by a steely resolve. His voice was commanding, giving no room for questions or hesitation. "Grab your bag," he ordered, his eyes landing on Eri, who was nestled quietly on Velvet's lap, engrossed in the new My Little Pony episode.

The bright, innocent glow in Eri's apple-red eyes dimmed slightly as she looked up at him, sensing something was wrong. Despite that, she obediently slid down from Velvet's lap, moving with a quiet grace. She reached for her small, unicorn-themed backpack, decorated with soft shades of pink and purple, and began packing her coloring books and pencils with the careful precision only a child could manage.

"What's going on?" Velvet asked, concern flickering in her voice as she exchanged a glance with Accelerator. Across the room, Asphalt sat up straighter, his usually casual demeanor shifting into something far more serious. His sharp gaze didn't miss the tension etched into Accelerator's expression.

"Something troublesome has appeared," Accelerator replied flatly, his tone dry but laced with just enough urgency to suggest he wasn't in the mood for explanations. He knelt beside Eri, helping her zip up the backpack before effortlessly lifting her onto his hip.

"Hero?" Asphalt asked, his voice steady, though there was an undercurrent of expectation in his tone.

Accelerator shot him a look that conveyed as much as any answer could. "I'm guessing you saw this coming?"

Asphalt let out a weary chuckle, his lips curling into a smirk. "Kid, I've been in this business longer than you've been alive. There's not a lot that surprises me anymore." He leaned back slightly, though his eyes remained alert. "But if it's a hero, you better watch yourself."

Accelerator didn't bother hiding his irritation as he continued to adjust Eri's coat, making sure it was secure. "He's looking for that screwed-up doctor," he said bluntly, his tone filled with disdain, "and some woman. He knew Eri by name."

Asphalt's smirk vanished, his eyes narrowing. "Then I guess you'd better skedaddle." The gruffness in his voice was a stark contrast to his usual laid-back attitude.

"Who's the woman they're looking for?" Velvet asked, her tone soft but curious.

Accelerator's mind briefly wandered to the conversation he'd had with the hero. His voice was casual, almost dismissive, as he replied, "Some Shakespearean name… Juliet something."

Velvet froze in place. Her usually composed face went slack, and her eyes widened, a flicker of something—recognition, fear—passing over her features. Accelerator caught the change immediately, his sharp senses always attuned to the smallest shifts in people's reactions. He didn't say anything at first, but his gaze flicked back to Velvet, studying her closely even as he adjusted Eri in his arms.

"That name ring a bell?" he asked, his voice low but cutting, like a blade testing the waters of something more dangerous.

Velvet hesitated, her eyes momentarily distant as if she were pulling up memories she'd long tried to bury. "Something like that…" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, louder, "You better get going, we have a procedure when it comes to handling heroes.. it'll work better without you here."

Accelerator raised an eyebrow but didn't push further. It wasn't his place to pry. His interest in his partners was strictly professional. As long as they didn't drag him or Eri into their messes, he couldn't care less about their personal baggage. Velvet clearly had her own demons, but that wasn't his problem.

Without another word, he turned and headed toward the window, lifting it with a smooth motion. And then, in one fluid motion, Accelerator stepped out of the window, holding Eri securely as they began their descent down the side of the 12-story building. There wasn't a single sound to betray their escape—not even the faintest whisper of footsteps against the concrete. He moved like a phantom, effortlessly making his way down the building's surface, using his ability to manipulate vectors to control their descent. Gravity wasn't a concern—he could bend it to his will.

Once they reached the ground, Accelerator paused for a brief moment, glancing back up at the towering structure. No alarms had been raised. No heroes or cops swarmed the area. The hospital was still, quiet, and oblivious to their escape.

'Perfect.'

With a final glance down at Eri, who was looking up at him with those large, trusting eyes, he adjusted her position in his arms and started walking, blending into the shadows of the city streets. There was no need to rush now. He had already vanished from the radar of any heroes or authorities who might be watching.

Aizawa's frustration was palpable as he approached Fat Gum and Miss Joke, his mind racing. He had been certain the boy was still in the hospital, but now, hearing that not even the security had noticed his escape, he felt a deep sense of irritation gnawing at him. How could someone disappear without leaving any trace behind, especially a kid?

Miss Joke held up the iPad, her usual lighthearted demeanor nowhere to be seen as she tapped the screen. "Check this," she said, her tone serious.

The footage on the screen was shaky, taken from a nearby convenience store's security camera. In the clip, Aizawa spotted a boy walking swiftly down the street. His white hair was unmistakable, long and disheveled, casting a shadow over his face. In his arms, a small girl clung to him, her grey hair tied up in a ponytail and a pink backpack hanging off her shoulder. Aizawa's eyes narrowed.

"That's him, what's with the kid?" Fat Gum said, his voice low.

"Let's find and ask", Aizawa said as he glanced at Miss Joke, "Where was this taken?"

Miss Joke tapped on the screen, zooming out to show the street more clearly. "This was taken from a store a few blocks from the hospital. He's heading towards Shibuya."

Aizawa's gaze lingered on the footage. The boy looked calm, unnervingly so, given the situation. He carried Eri with ease, moving with an air of quiet purpose. It wasn't the demeanor of someone fleeing in panic; this kid knew what he was doing.

"They can't have gotten far," Aizawa muttered, his mind calculating the time and distance. "It's only been about fifteen minutes."

"Right," Miss Joke added, "and given how close this store is to the hospital, you're not too late. If you move now, you might catch up."

She looked at them with an assuring expression, "I'll stay here just in case the kid intends on rounding back here", she gestured towards the hospital, "besides, Hashimoto might become conscious soon… I… Might be able to get some information from here".

Aizawa knew there was more to it than that, but he just nodded his head.

Without another word, Aizawa spun on his heel, heading toward the exit. Fat Gum was close behind, his heavy footsteps echoing off the tile floor. "I'll check the streets around Shibuya," Fat Gum said, his deep voice carrying urgency. "He's not gonna blend in easily with that hair and the girl with him."

Aizawa nodded sharply, his mind already racing through strategies. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than just a simple runaway. "I'll cover the back streets. He'll likely avoid the main roads if he's smart."

As they pushed through the hospital doors, the sun had just begun to climb higher, casting long shadows on the city.

The hunt was on.

Accelerator's eyes scanned the crowded station, annoyance etched deep in his scowl as he cursed the luck that had led him here during rush hour. The train—the only one that could've gotten him out of this mess quickly—was delayed. Of all the days for this kind of inconvenience, it had to be today. He could practically feel the heroes closing in on him, their ridiculous costumes and even more ridiculous sense of duty trailing behind like a bad stench.

In another world, in another life, he might've used his powers to zip through the station undetected. His mind was racing, weighing options, most of them unsatisfying. He could've easily used his powers to slip away unnoticed, manipulating the vectors to move at a speed too fast for cameras or even the naked eye to follow. It worked when he was chasing Jason—bending the light, warping the space around him, making sure no one saw anything clearly. Jason had likely done the same. But here? Now? Too risky. This world had too many strict regulations, too many eyes, and using his abilities openly would just draw more attention, not less.

And attention was the last thing he needed right now.

Accelerator gritted his teeth and glanced at the mass of people crowding the station platform. A mess of bodies, noises, and mundane thoughts. Not worth the headache. He let out a frustrated huff and turned on his heel, heading in a random direction, his feet cutting through the dense crowd.

Eri shifted in his arms, adjusting her grip on him as he moved. She trusted him completely—something that both unnerved and grounded him at the same time. He didn't know why or when, but keeping her safe had become something he couldn't just walk away from, something more than a simple obligation.

He wasn't afraid of these so-called heroes. To him, they were weak—naïve, overly optimistic fools who spent more time basking in the limelight than actually doing anything useful.

'Pathetic, naïve idiots clinging to a broken system, trying to make themselves feel important', He scoffed inwardly at the thought. Even their number one hero, All Might—the so-called Symbol of Peace—would be nothing against him. He'd crush him in an instant.

 He could crush them, all of them, with a flick of his wrist. The symbol of peace, who was worshipped like some untouchable god in this world—he wouldn't last a minute against Accelerator if it came down to it.

But it wasn't fear that had him walking away. It was something else, something deeper. His mind flashed, unbidden, to another face—the spiky-haired boy from his own world. Accelerator's steps faltered for a moment. That kid, the one who should have been the weakest, had somehow—through sheer will and determination—managed to stand stronger than anyone else. It was the first time Accelerator had ever felt something he couldn't explain—something that gnawed at him even now. Weakness? Or at least, the acknowledgment that there was more to strength than power alone.

He gritted his teeth as the image faded from his mind. 'No time for this crap,' he thought bitterly, his grip on Eri tightening, though still gentle enough not to hurt her. He could easily take on any hero that came his way, and a part of him wanted to. It would be quicker. He could finish them off, get information on what they knew about him and Eri, and be done with it.

His grip on Eri tightened slightly, but still gentle, protective. His feet carried him swiftly through the streets, blending into the crowd, but his thoughts remained tangled in a web of frustration and something else he couldn't quite name. He didn't want to fight the heroes, not because he was afraid, but because it would bring more complications than it was worth. He could take them on, easily. He could break them, protect Eri, and get away without a scratch. But it would only lead to more problems—more eyes, more nuisances.

And then there was that nagging feeling. He scowled to himself, something twisting in his chest. He couldn't explain it, but something about these heroes—about that damned spiky-haired bastard in particular—kept gnawing at him.

Accelerator stopped in his tracks, standing still for a moment as the crowd flowed around him like water around a rock. He let out an annoyed sigh, glancing at Eri, who was watching the world with her wide, innocent eyes, unaware of the weight of the situation.

"Dammit," he muttered, turning sharply into a nearby alley. "Guess I'll let them come to me," he muttered to himself, leaning against the grimy brick wall, Eri still safely tucked in his arms. The walls closed in around him, the noise of the street fading into a dull hum. This would be as good a place as any to confront them. He wasn't going to run—not today. Let the heroes catch up. He'd deal with them here, on his own terms.

In the stillness of the alley, Accelerator closed his eyes, his senses on high alert. He could hear the distant hum of the city, the echo of footsteps, and the quiet, rhythmic breathing of the little girl in his arms. His mind began to focus, honing in on the faintest vibrations in the air. He didn't need to see them to know they were getting closer.

Might as well deal with it and be done with.

And fortunately, he didn't have to wait too long.

"Don't move!"

Aizawa's hand gripped his scarf, ready to spring into action, though the boy's stance told him he didn't intend to bolt. Standing relaxed and almost indifferent, Accelerator appeared to be waiting—if not exactly patient, then close enough.

"Let's talk," Accelerator said, his tone dry, as if being tailed by heroes was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Aizawa's expression remained impassive, masking the caution coiled beneath the surface. "I'm glad you're willing to talk. How about we head down to the station? It'd make things a bit easier," he offered, keeping his tone light and unthreatening.

Accelerator snorted, a smirk twisting onto his face. "Not happening. I'm humoring you now, so get to the point," he demanded, his gaze cold and unyielding. "I don't need damn heroes on my tail; I've got enough crap to deal with without you lot in my business."

Aizawa watched him carefully, trying to read the fire behind those scarlet eyes. "What sort of trouble are you in?" he asked, genuine but calm, probing without pushing.

Accelerator's eyes narrowed, sharp and scrutinizing. "That's your question?" he shot back, a flicker of impatience breaking through his steely demeanor.

Taking a breath, Aizawa steadied himself. This boy was every bit as thorny as he'd anticipated, perhaps even more so. His gaze softened slightly as he shifted focus. "The girl," he began, noticing Eri's small form curled tightly in the boy's protective hold. Her large, red eyes flickered up at him briefly before she buried her face against Accelerator's chest.

Accelerator's body stiffened. "…Yeah," he muttered after a pause. "That's Eri. How do you know about her?"

"Security tape at the hospital," Aizawa replied. "Where Dr. Hamazura was last seen."

Accelerator clicked his tongue, muttering something inaudible, no doubt cursing himself for the oversight.

Aizawa sensed an opening, pressing forward carefully. "Kid... whatever situation you're in, we can help you both. We've got resources that could make a difference."

Eri's arms tightened around Accelerator's neck, as if clinging to a lifeline. He instinctively wrapped an arm more firmly around her, glaring at Aizawa.

"Help us?" Accelerator's voice dripped with scorn. "A bit late for that. Our problems didn't start yesterday, and they won't end today either. We're used to it."

Aizawa studied him, sensing an armor of distrust so deeply embedded it had become second nature. But Eri's vulnerable gaze tugged at something within him. No kid should have to cling that tightly for protection.

He decided to try another approach, edging forward slowly. "Do you know what happened to Dr. Hamazura?" he asked, watching closely for any reaction.

Accelerator tilted his head slightly, his expression impassive. "Honestly? No clue. He vanished after I found Eri."

Aizawa picked up on the slight tension in his words and nodded. "So you found her... unconscious?"

"Yeah. But she's safe now." His words were clipped, his tone leaving no room for further questioning.

Aizawa gave a slight sigh, knowing he couldn't push too hard. This kid was barricaded, and forcing his way in would only drive him further back. So instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small card. He held it out, watching Accelerator's eyes narrow suspiciously as he glanced between the card and Aizawa's steady hand.

"If anything comes up, or if you need help with… anything, you can call me." His gaze locked with Accelerator's, willing him to understand that the offer was genuine.

Accelerator hesitated, regarding him with a mix of suspicion and something harder to pin down. Eventually, he reached out, snatching the card with a hint of reluctance, sliding it into his pocket.

Aizawa stepped back, sensing that, for now, this was the most he could do. He'd planted a seed. Trust could come later, he hoped.

"Ah, here we go!" chirped a nurse, her finger tapping a line on the glowing monitor. "The boy was visiting room 203—assigned to a Kugisaki Kaito." Her cheerful demeanor matched her singsong tone as she turned to Miss Joke.

Miss Joke nodded, her ever-present smile bright and reassuring. "Thank you so much for your help," she said warmly, though her mind churned with questions. She turned on her heel, heading for the indicated room, the corners of her mouth lowering ever so slightly once out of sight of the nurse.

Room 203. The number echoed in her mind as Miss Joke quickened her pace, her heels clicking softly against the sterile tiles. She was almost certain the boy had come here to visit Yuki, yet the name Kugisaki Kaito didn't match anything in the reports. One detail, however, stuck out like a sore thumb—something the nurse had let slip.

The patient had been admitted on the same day and at the same time as Yuki, both suffering grave injuries. That alone was odd enough, but what truly gnawed at her was the nurse's casual dismissal when she'd asked why no report had been made to the police. The young woman had blinked at her as though the question itself had never crossed her mind.

Miss Joke frowned, her instincts buzzing like static in the back of her mind. She'd initially thought it might be a simple oversight—ignorance or perhaps exhaustion, given how hard hospital staff worked—but the pattern persisted. Even the more seasoned nurses and doctors wore the same perplexed expressions, as though the idea of reporting suspicious injuries had been plucked from thin air. The collective reaction was too uniform, too strange, to dismiss as mere coincidence.

Her unease deepened, coiling tight in her chest. The air seemed heavier as she neared Room 203, and she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was fundamentally wrong—not just with the boy, not just with this room, but with the entire situation.

When she reached the door, she paused, drawing a steadying breath. With a gentle knock, she waited. No answer.

"Excuse me," she called out, her voice soft but firm. Another beat of silence passed before she slid the door open, her signature smile plastered on her face.

"Hello! Is this where I can find Mr. Kugisaki Kaito—?" The words caught in her throat as her gaze swept across the room. It was empty. Utterly, eerily empty.

The bed was neatly made, the sheets crisp and untouched, corners tucked with military precision. No personal belongings cluttered the side table, no flowers, no signs of life. Even the trash bin in the corner was pristine, as if the room hadn't been used in weeks. The air carried the faint sterile scent of disinfectant, reinforcing the absence of any recent human presence.

Miss Joke's smile faltered, the faint lines of confusion creasing her face. She stepped further in, her bright demeanor dimming as she examined the space. The curtains hung undisturbed over the window, casting faint patterns of sunlight on the floor, and the silence was oppressive, as though even the room itself knew something was wrong.

"What the hell is going on here?" she murmured to herself, fingers brushing over the edge of the bed as if searching for proof of its last occupant.