U.A.
High School looked peaceful at night.
That was one of its more convincing lies.
The lawns lay dark beneath a clear sky.
Classroom windows reflected the security lights.
Somewhere beyond the main building, an automatic sprinkler clicked steadily across an empty training field.
Beneath the administration wing, behind two locked doors and a security system disconnected from every public network in Musutafu, Principal Nezu placed a telephone on the table.
It was an old device.
No camera.
No wireless connection.
No clever software waiting to be exploited.
A cable ran directly from the receiver into a secure exchange beneath the school.
Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi stood beside the wall with his arms folded.
He had removed his coat, but not the exhaustion beneath it.
Midnight sat at the far end of the table.
A hospital blanket covered her shoulders.
An intravenous line entered her left arm, connected to a portable stand beside the chair.
The trembling in her right hand had weakened, though it had not disappeared.
Izuku’s small All Might figure stood beside her keyboard.
She kept touching it to make certain it remained there.
Eraser Head stood behind her chair.
Present Mic paced between the door and the city map pinned to the wall.
Four possible locations had been circled.
A warehouse in Naruhata.
An abandoned Quirk clinic.
A former disaster-training facility.
A riverside storage property connected to several cargo companies and one vessel registered under conflicting ownership records.
Four directions.
Four chances.
Possibly four traps.
Nezu dialled.
The receiver rang once.
Twice.
A voice answered with restrained formality.
“Yagi speaking.” “Toshinori,” Nezu said.
“Are you alone?” There was a pause.
“Yes.” “Can you remain so?” The pause became longer.
“What happened?” Nezu looked towards Midnight.
She had gone rigid.
The All Might figure remained beneath her fingertips, its tiny plastic smile pointed towards the telephone.
“A child has been abducted,” Nezu said.
“The circumstances involve a professional hero, compromised police systems and at least one operation designed around defeating three of my former students.” All Might’s breathing changed.
“Who is the child?” “Izuku Midoriya.” The name meant nothing to him yet.
It would.
Nezu began at the beginning.
He described Hisashi Midoriya’s debt without unnecessary detail.
Daichi Senda’s attack in the alley.
The gun in a frightened child’s hands.
Inko Midoriya’s repeated attempts to obtain further medical testing after her son had been declared Quirkless.
He explained the hospital notes that followed her from clinic to clinic, each one presenting a grieving, frightened mother as irrational.
He explained Rampart.
The professional hero known publicly as the Human Fortress.
The older brother of Daichi Senda.
The man who purchased Inko’s address through a corrupt police officer, entered her home and used his Quirk against a mother and her four-year-old son.
Nezu did not soften the facts.
“Inko Midoriya died creating an escape route for her child.” The secure room became completely silent.
All Might did not respond.
Nezu continued.
“Izuku witnessed the attack.
He identified Rampart by face and Quirk.
He escaped into the city and remained alone for three days because a falsified police report declared him dead.” On the other end of the line, something creaked.
Perhaps a chair.
Perhaps All Might’s hand closing around the receiver.
Midnight stared at the floor.
Nezu told him about the market.
Midnight kneeling rather than reaching.
Present Mic giving Izuku his headphones.
Eraser Head placing himself between the boy and the system that had already failed him.
The hospital.
The interrogators who used genuine police credentials.
The attempt to convince Izuku that a previously undetected Quirk had caused the explosion and killed his own mother.
Then the false gunfire.
The compromised ventilation system.
The stolen nurse’s identity.
The sedative.
The empty bed.
Midnight’s fingers closed around the All Might figure so tightly that the plastic edges pressed into her palm.
“I was in the room,” she said.
All Might heard her.
“Midnight?” “Yes.” Her voice sounded smaller than it ever had in costume.
“I told him I would stay.” Present Mic stopped pacing.
Nezu did not interrupt.
Midnight forced the rest out.
“They knew my Quirk.
They knew how I would position myself.
They drugged me before the transport team entered.
Izuku was conscious when they carried him away.” All Might breathed in slowly.
“Were you injured?” “Not enough to excuse losing him.” Eraser Head’s expression tightened.
All Might was silent for several seconds.
When he spoke again, the warmth usually attached to his voice had disappeared.
“Where is Rampart?” Tsukauchi stepped closer to the telephone.
“Publicly, he is continuing his duties.
His agency answered two rescue calls this evening.
He has not been charged.” “You know he killed the boy’s mother.” “We know Izuku identified him.” “You believe the child?” “Yes.” “Then arrest him.” “I cannot arrest a respected professional hero for murder based solely on the statement of a traumatised four-year-old when the physical scene was destroyed, the investigation was contaminated and several officers appear to be working for the suspect.” All Might’s voice deepened.
“The boy is not merely a statement.” “No,” Tsukauchi said.
“He is a witness.
That is why Rampart took him.” The silence returned.
All Might had spent years standing at the centre of public faith.
Criminals feared him.
Civilians trusted him.
Children wore his face on their shirts and carried plastic versions of him in small hands.
Somewhere in Musutafu, a child who once loved heroes had watched a licensed professional murder his mother.
That same child had then been accused by police of causing her death.
All Might’s voice emerged carefully controlled.
“Tell me where to go.” Nezu folded his paws.
“Not yet.” The answer landed like a challenge.
All Might did not hide his anger.
“You called me to describe the murder of a mother and the kidnapping of her son, then ask me to remain idle?” “I called because we may require you.” “You require me now.” “We require subtlety now.” “Subtlety did not protect the child.” “No,” Nezu said.
“Neither did strength.” Midnight flinched.
Nezu noticed and continued before the sentence could become another weapon she used against herself.
“Rampart has designed each stage of this operation around the predictable reactions of good people.
Inko protected her son, so he used the child as leverage.
Police wanted a simple explanation, so he provided one.
My former students heard civilians were under fire, so they ran towards the apparent danger.” Eraser Head looked towards the map.
“He knows how heroes choose.” “Yes.” Nezu addressed All Might again.
“And he knows what will happen if the Symbol of Peace appears near one of his properties.” “He will surrender.” “Perhaps.” “You doubt it?” “I believe he will move Izuku, destroy evidence or take an action intended to preserve his reputation through catastrophe.” Tsukauchi picked up one of the case files.
“Rampart’s public image is currently intact.
He has influence inside police command, hero dispatch and several city offices.
If you arrive before we have a location, everyone connected to him will know within minutes.” “I do not need official channels.” “You need streets,” Tsukauchi said.
“Cameras.
Witnesses.
Airspace.
Every person who sees you becomes a signal.” All Might did not respond.
Nezu turned the city map so he could study it while speaking.
“We have four properties linked indirectly to Rampart’s organisations.
We are sending small teams to inspect them simultaneously.” “All four may be traps.” “Yes.” “One may contain the child.” “Yes.” “Then send me to the most likely.” “The moment you enter the field, the other three locations become disposable.” All Might’s breath sharpened through the receiver.
Nezu allowed him to be angry.
Anger was not the enemy.
Unexamined anger was.
Midnight looked at the figure in her hand.
“I told Izuku that titles do not make someone good,” she said.
“Choices do.” All Might became quiet.
“He asked me whether I was bad because I was a hero.” The words seemed to physically alter the room.
Present Mic lowered his head.
Eraser Head closed his eyes.
All Might spoke very softly.
“What did you tell him?” “That I could only show him through what I chose to do.” Midnight stared at the little figure.
“Then I failed to keep him.” “No.” All Might’s response came immediately.
Midnight’s mouth tightened.
“You were not there.” “I did not need to be.
You were attacked by people who prepared specifically to defeat you.” “I promised him.” “And you are still trying to fulfil that promise.” Midnight looked towards the map.
Four coloured markers waited beside it.
“I don’t know whether trying matters to him anymore.” “It will matter when he is safe enough to decide.” The certainty in All Might’s voice hurt.
It also held her together for one more breath.
Nezu returned to the purpose of the call.
“We are not asking you to join the initial search.
We are asking whether you can remain available as an emergency contingency.” “How available?” “Close enough to reach central Musutafu quickly.
No public appearances.
No agency communication.
Keep your telephone with you.” “And when you call?” “You come.” “No delays?” “None.” “No discussion about warrants while the child is in immediate danger?” “None.” Tsukauchi looked towards Nezu but did not object.
The law mattered.
A child’s survival mattered first.
All Might’s answer came without hesitation.
“I will be there.” Present Mic released a breath he had been holding.
Eraser Head’s gaze remained on the four properties.
All Might continued.
“If Rampart is present, do not underestimate him.
Defensive Quirks are often treated as passive.
They rarely are.” “We know,” Eraser Head said.
All Might recognised his voice.
“Aizawa.” “Yes.” “Do not let anger select your battlefield for you.” Eraser Head’s eyes narrowed.
“You sound like Nezu.” “That is the cruellest thing anyone has said to me this month.” For a second, the old warmth touched All Might’s voice.
It vanished quickly.
“Find the boy.” “We will,” Present Mic said.
Nezu looked towards him.
No false promises.
Present Mic corrected himself.
“We will find where they took him.” All Might accepted the change.
Nezu ended the call with his paw resting on the receiver.
“Remain close to your telephone,” he said.
“If this operation goes wrong, subtlety will no longer matter.” The line disconnected.
For several seconds, no one moved.
Then Nezu looked towards the coloured markers.
“Let us make certain we do not need him.” Some time later The secure operations centre had once been an underground classroom.
Nezu had converted it after an infiltration exercise revealed that U.A.’s most advanced command room shared three systems with the rest of the campus.
The students involved had received extra credit.
The security engineers had received headaches.
Now four banks of monitors covered the front wall.
Each displayed encrypted body-camera feeds, property diagrams and separate communication channels.
Red.
Blue.
Green.
Gold.
Midnight sat at the central console.
The hospital blanket had been replaced by a dark U.A.
jacket draped around her shoulders.
The intravenous line was gone, but a medical patch remained on her arm.
Her right hand trembled whenever she held it away from the desk.
She kept it resting near the All Might figure.
Katsuki sat beside her in a chair too large for him.
His feet did not reach the floor.
Masaru stood behind him.
Mitsuki paced along the back wall.
A controlled return to the Bakugou home had revealed no visible surveillance car, no tail and no attempt to approach the house.
Nezu had considered that absence more suspicious than activity.
The family had been brought directly to U.A.
They were safer there.
Mitsuki did not feel safe.
She felt contained.
The four teams appeared on the main screen through separate encrypted feeds.
Nezu stood beside the map.
“The locations will be searched simultaneously.
Communication remains limited to this room.
Each team has been selected through separate channels and told only what is necessary.” He touched the first marker.
Red.
The riverside docks filled one screen.
Eraser Head stood inside an unmarked van with two low-profile professionals and three police officers personally vetted by Tsukauchi.
The first hero used the name Hushline.
She was a narrow, silver-haired woman whose Quirk, Quiet Field, dampened sound inside a controlled radius.
It could conceal movement, prevent shouted warnings and make enclosed spaces feel unnaturally still.
The second was Threadhound, a compact man with reinforced fingertips and dark protective lenses.
His Quirk allowed him to sense disturbed fibres, fabric traces and subtle contact patterns left across surfaces.
Neither appeared regularly on television.
Neither had worked with Rampart’s agency.
The police detachment was led by Inspector Kuroda, an investigator Tsukauchi had trusted for more than a decade.
“The docks contain storage buildings, cargo containers and a vessel whose registration conflicts with its ownership records,” Nezu said.
“Red Team will inspect the property and determine whether it was used to transport Izuku.” His gaze settled on Eraser Head’s camera.
“If Rampart appears, you observe and withdraw.
You do not engage him.” Eraser Head answered without expression.
“Understood.” Midnight watched his face.
The muscles in his jaw moved once.
She touched the communication switch.
“Say it properly.” Everyone in the room looked towards her.
Eraser Head’s eyes shifted towards his camera.
“I said I understand.” “That is not what he asked.” “Nemuri,” Present Mic said through Blue channel.
Midnight ignored him.
“Say you will withdraw.” Eraser Head stared through the lens as though he could see her directly.
“If Rampart appears, Red Team will withdraw.” “Will you?” A beat of silence.
“Yes.” Midnight did not believe him.
Neither did Nezu.
The principal moved to Blue Team.
Present Mic stood inside another unmarked vehicle with three professional heroes and four vetted support officers.
Lockstep, a broad-shouldered rescue hero, could anchor himself or objects he touched against sudden movement.
His Quirk was valuable inside unstable structures.
Sonar, a young underground hero with enlarged ears and a reflective visor, mapped enclosed spaces through controlled pulses of sound.
The final professional, Switchback, could reverse her momentum instantly, allowing her to move through narrow industrial spaces without slowing.
Their target was the Naruhata warehouse controlled by Eastgate Civic Renewal.
Present Mic had removed the directional speaker from his costume.
A smaller support unit rested at his throat.
The difference made him look less like a performer and more like a man preparing for a funeral.
“Blue Team will search for evidence of vehicle storage, medical supplies and recent occupation,” Nezu said.
Present Mic nodded.
“Quiet entry.
No concerts.” “Your restraint is inspiring.” “I contain multitudes.” The humour died immediately after leaving his mouth.
Midnight heard that too.
Nezu moved to Green Team.
Detective Tsukauchi stood with two national investigators, a medical specialist named Dr Kagawa and a sensory hero called Scentinel.
Scentinel possessed a mutation-type Quirk that gave her a narrow muzzle, dark fur along her jaw and an exceptional ability to separate chemical traces.
Unlike ordinary scent tracking, she could retain a specific compound and distinguish it beneath disinfectants or smoke.
Green Team would enter the abandoned Quirk clinic.
“Your priority is medical evidence,” Nezu said.
“Sedatives, restraints, patient records and signs that a child was treated there.” Tsukauchi adjusted his gloves.
“And police materials.” “Yes.” The fourth marker was Gold.
Ectoplasm stood at the front of a compact team containing Power Loader, a technical support specialist and an underground hero called Searchlight, whose Quirk allowed him to perceive recent heat variations left within walls and machinery.
Their target was the former disaster-training facility.
It was the largest property and the most structurally complex.
Ectoplasm’s clones would search its tunnels, false walls and simulated collapse zones while the main team examined communications equipment.
“Gold Team will prioritise planning material,” Nezu said.
“The facility may have been used to prepare the hospital operation.” Ectoplasm folded his arms.
“My clones are ready.” “Please bring back the same number of original heroes you take with you.” Power Loader made an offended sound.
Nezu turned towards the control room.
“Midnight and I will coordinate all four channels.
Body-camera feeds remain active at all times.
If a feed is interrupted, the relevant team withdraws unless a civilian life is immediately visible.” Mitsuki stopped pacing.
“You keep saying withdraw.” “Yes.” “What happens if Izuku is inside?” “The objective changes from investigation to rescue.” “And if Rampart is standing beside him?” Nezu’s expression did not change.
“The team secures Izuku if possible and avoids unnecessary confrontation.” “Unnecessary?” “The child matters more than capturing Rampart tonight.” Mitsuki’s arms folded tightly.
“He killed Inko.” “Yes.” “He took Izuku.” “Yes.” “And you want him allowed to walk away?” “If choosing between Rampart and Izuku becomes necessary, we choose Izuku.” Mitsuki looked towards the four feeds.
“Then choose him quickly.” Katsuki began arranging the coloured markers along the bottom of Midnight’s console.
“Which one is closest?” “To what?” Midnight asked.
“To Deku.” “We don’t know.” “Which one do you think?” Midnight looked at the map.
The clinic offered medical equipment.
The warehouse offered transportation.
The training facility offered planning and concealment.
The docks offered departure.
“I don’t know,” she said.
Katsuki frowned at Red.
“Eraser Head is quiet.” “He usually is.” “He’s quieter.” Midnight looked towards Red Team’s feed.
Katsuki was right.
Eraser Head sat motionless while Inspector Kuroda reviewed their route.
The camera captured only the lower half of his face.
Midnight touched the private channel.
“Red Lead, status.” “We have not moved.” “I can see that.” “Then why ask?” “Because silence is not a report.” Eraser Head’s eyes lifted towards the camera.
“The last time I assumed silence meant everything was under control, they took him.” The control room became quiet.
Eraser Head’s expression changed by a fraction.
“Red Team is ready.” “Thank you.” Midnight released the channel.
Nezu studied her.
“You cannot request confirmation every time a team becomes quiet.” “I can.” “You should not.” “Watch me.” “Fear will make you crowd their decision-making.” Midnight’s fingers curled against the desk.
“The last time I trusted someone else to cover the corridor, I woke up on the floor.” Present Mic’s voice entered through Blue channel.
“You were not responsible for the corridor.” “I was responsible for the room.” Nezu placed one paw beside the All Might figure.
“You are responsible for this room now.” Midnight looked at him.
“Trusting the teams does not mean ignoring them,” Nezu said.
“It means giving them enough silence to see what is in front of them.” Her hand trembled.
She pressed it flat.
“I will try.” “That is all I require.” Nezu turned back towards the teams.
“The objective is Izuku Midoriya.
Evidence is secondary.
Revenge is not an objective at all.” Eraser Head did not react.
Present Mic looked away from his camera.
Tsukauchi’s face hardened.
Ectoplasm nodded once.
Midnight looked at the little All Might figure.
“Bring him home,” she whispered.
Nezu heard.
This time, he did not correct the promise.
“Teams,” he said, “move.”