The river carried the city’s light in broken pieces.
Red Team stood at the end of a narrow dock surrounded by rusting containers, silent warehouses and boats that knocked gently against their moorings.
Hushline’s Quirk covered the area in a muted field.
The ropes still moved.
The water still struck the pylons.
Every sound arrived softened, as though the docks were holding their breath.
The vessel ahead of them appeared ordinary.
A low cargo boat with a faded white hull and blue trim.
Its registration number matched a shipping company based in Yokohama.
The ownership documents named a company that had dissolved four years earlier.
Inspector Kuroda checked the information again.
“The harbour system lists it as unloaded and inactive.” Threadhound crouched near the gangway.
“People crossed here recently.” “How many?” Eraser Head asked.
“Six adults.
Possibly seven.” “Child?” Threadhound moved two fingers above the metal.
His Quirk did not show him footprints.
It allowed him to perceive disruption in fibres, residue and contact patterns.
“Something small was carried.
Did not walk.” Midnight heard the report through the body camera.
Her hand closed around the All Might figure.
Mitsuki stood behind her.
Katsuki had climbed onto his chair and was now kneeling, both hands against the console.
“Is that the one?” “We don’t know,” Midnight said.
“Red found a boat.” “Yes.” “Boats go places.” “Yes.” “Then Deku could be…” Masaru placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Let them look.” Eraser Head crossed the gangway first.
Hushline followed.
Threadhound and Inspector Kuroda remained several steps behind while the two vetted officers secured the dock.
The boat’s deck had been washed.
Not cleaned through ordinary use.
Scrubbed.
Water remained inside several seams despite the dry weather.
Eraser Head crouched beside one.
The smell reached him.
Antiseptic.
Beneath it, paint solvent.
“Control,” he said.
“Chemical match possible.” Midnight compared the report with Gold and Green Team’s findings.
“Document samples.
Do not touch bare surfaces.” Eraser Head’s camera turned towards a broad mark crossing the deck.
Something heavy had been dragged from the dock towards the cargo hold.
Two parallel grooves.
Metal against metal.
Threadhound approached.
“Object was rectangular.
Heavy enough for three adults, possibly four.” “A crate?” Kuroda asked.
“Could be.” The word entered the U.A.
control room.
Mitsuki leaned towards the screen.
“What kind of crate?” “We don’t know,” Nezu said.
“Large enough for Izuku?” Nezu did not answer.
Midnight looked at the dimensions.
The distance between the grooves was more than wide enough.
Her stomach tightened.
“Red Lead,” she said.
“Any sign the object was brought aboard or removed?” Threadhound followed the marks.
“Brought aboard.
Then moved towards the stern.” Eraser Head looked over the side.
A second set of marks crossed the opposite edge.
The object had not remained on the boat.
It had been moved again.
“Transferred,” he said.
“To another vessel?” Kuroda asked.
“Or into the water.” Midnight’s breath stopped.
Eraser Head heard it through the channel.
He immediately added, “No evidence supporting either conclusion.” She closed her eyes.
Facts.
Only facts.
Rampart wanted fear to complete the story for them.
She would not help him.
“Continue,” she said.
Red Team entered the cargo hold.
The air inside was colder.
A portable refrigeration unit had been switched off recently.
Condensation covered the pipes.
The main cargo space was empty except for lengths of rope, a folded tarpaulin and several wooden pallets.
Hushline extended her field.
The muted space became almost soundless.
Threadhound examined the floor.
“Recent movement.
Three people crossed repeatedly.
One knelt here.” He pointed towards a dark stain beneath the refrigeration unit.
Eraser Head crouched.
Blood.
Not much.
Several drops, partly diluted by cleaning solution.
Midnight saw them through the camera.
Her hand slipped from the figure.
It struck the console and rolled towards Katsuki.
He caught it.
“What happened?” “Nothing.” “That’s blood.” Mitsuki turned sharply.
Midnight could not lie quickly enough.
Katsuki stared at the screen.
“Is it Deku’s?” “We don’t know.” “Is he hurt?” “We don’t know.” “You keep saying that!” His shout filled the control room.
Midnight muted the field channel.
Katsuki held the figure against his chest.
“Why don’t you know?” “Because blood does not tell us whose it is by looking.” “Then test it.” “We will.” “When?” “As soon as Red Team brings a sample.” “That takes too long.” “Yes.” The honesty did not soothe him.
Midnight understood.
She turned back to the screen.
“Red, continue.” Eraser Head followed the cargo hold towards a narrow stairway.
The steps led to a small cabin beneath the bridge.
The door was unlocked.
That bothered him more than a lock would have.
Rampart’s organisation had erased footage, cleaned buildings and removed evidence from three separate properties.
They had not forgotten this door.
Someone wanted it opened.
Eraser Head stopped with one hand near the handle.
“Trap,” Hushline whispered.
“Probably.” “Orders say withdraw if the target appears.” “The target has not appeared.” “Yet.” Eraser Head opened the door.
The cabin contained a narrow bunk, a table fixed to the floor and a metal cupboard.
A weak light swung from the ceiling.
The boat moved gently beneath them.
Nothing attacked.
No barrier formed.
No hidden men emerged.
Threadhound remained in the doorway.
“Fabric disturbance near the bunk.” Eraser Head approached.
At first, he saw only a white shape partly concealed beneath the metal frame.
Small.
Soft.
He crouched.
The body camera lowered with him.
Midnight leaned towards the screen.
Katsuki gripped the All Might figure.
Eraser Head reached beneath the bunk with a gloved hand and drew out a child’s T-shirt.
White cotton.
Small enough for a four-year-old.
All Might’s smiling face spread across the front, one fist raised beneath the words: I AM HERE!
The shirt had been torn from collar to shoulder.
Dark blood marked one side.
Eraser Head stopped moving.
The river pushed softly against the hull.
Hushline’s Quirk made even that sound distant.
At U.A., Midnight’s professional control shattered.
She knew the shirt.
It had been inside the bag of clothing brought to the hospital for Izuku.
Mitsuki had packed it.
A nurse had helped him change before the detectives arrived.
Midnight had teased him because All Might’s smile became stretched whenever the shirt wrinkled.
Izuku had smoothed it carefully.
He had been wearing it when the false nurse entered.
“No.” The word left Midnight without permission.
Mitsuki moved towards her.
“What is it?” Midnight could not answer.
Her lungs had forgotten how to complete a breath.
On-screen, the blood looked almost black beneath the cabin light.
Mitsuki saw the small sleeve.
She saw All Might’s face.
Her knees weakened.
Masaru caught her.
“That’s his.” Katsuki looked between them.
“Deku’s?” No one answered.
He understood anyway.
Eraser Head lifted the shirt slightly.
Blood had soaked through the lower side and dried in uneven patches.
Not enough to determine severity.
More than Midnight could look at without seeing Izuku on the hospital stretcher.
His frightened eyes.
His hands reaching.
You said you’d stay.
The control room narrowed around her.
Nezu moved beside her.
“Breathe.” Midnight shook her head.
“Nemuri.” “That’s his.” “Yes.” “He was wearing it.” “Yes.” “I put the headphones over it.” Nezu’s paw settled near her hand, not touching.
“Breathe.” She tried.
The first breath stopped halfway.
The second arrived as a gasp.
Katsuki stood on the chair.
“Is he dead?” “No.” Midnight said it too quickly.
Mitsuki stared at the blood.
“You don’t know.” “No.” The word scraped Midnight’s throat.
She looked towards Eraser Head’s feed.
“We do not know.” Eraser Head heard the exchange.
He stared at the shirt in his hand.
Izuku was here.
He had been injured.
Or someone else’s blood had been placed on his clothing.
Rampart might have planted it.
The open door suggested staging.
The cleaned cabin suggested control.
The blood drops in the cargo hold suggested movement.
The drag marks suggested something heavier than a child.
Each clue pointed somewhere.
None formed a complete direction.
Aizawa forced his mind to remain precise.
The shirt did not prove death.
The blood did not prove volume.
The cabin did not prove duration.
A trap did not make the evidence false.
“He is not dead,” Eraser Head said.
His voice filled every channel.
Midnight looked towards the screen.
He repeated it.
“He is not dead.” It sounded partly like a report.
Partly like an order to himself.
Mitsuki pulled free from Masaru.
“How can you know?” “Because Rampart needs him alive.” “Needed.” Eraser Head’s jaw tightened.
“Because this was left to provoke us.” “That could mean anything.” “It means Rampart expects us to see it.” Nezu stepped closer to the microphone.
“Correct.
Red Team, document the shirt where it was found.
Do not move any other object until the cabin has been photographed.” Eraser Head lowered the shirt onto a sterile evidence sheet.
Threadhound examined the bunk.
“Fibres.
Green, possibly hair.” Midnight’s heart kicked painfully.
“Collect separately.” “Understood.” Hushline moved towards the cupboard.
“Do not open it,” Eraser Head said.
She stopped.
“Why?” “The room is staged.” “Everything?” “Enough.” Inspector Kuroda entered behind them.
“Exterior secure.” “Any movement?” “None.” “Other vessels?” “Two moored within fifty metres.
Both appear empty.” “Appear?” Kuroda understood.
“We’ll confirm.” Midnight scanned the external feeds.
Dark water.
Empty dock.
Containers stacked like walls.
Too quiet.
Eraser Head looked towards his camera.
“Control, this may be a lure.” “We know,” Midnight said.
Her voice shook.
She forced it steadier.
“Red Team holds position.
No one separates.
Record the cabin and prepare to withdraw.” Katsuki still held the All Might figure.
“Why are they leaving?” “Because whoever put the shirt there may be watching.” “Then catch them.” “That is not the mission.” “The mission is Deku.” “Yes.” “He was there.” “Yes.” “So they should keep looking.” Midnight looked at the child beside her.
“That is what Rampart wants them to do.” Katsuki glared.
“What if Deku needs them?” Midnight’s throat tightened.
“Then we have to find the direction he was taken, not only the place Rampart wants us angry.” The words were meant for Katsuki.
They were also meant for Eraser Head.
On the boat, Aizawa heard them.
He looked at the bloodied shirt.
The room inside him where anger lived had become very quiet.
That frightened him.
He wanted to tear apart the boat.
He wanted to search every container, every vessel and every building until someone gave him Izuku.
He wanted Rampart standing in front of him.
Then the first clap came from the deck above.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Hushline turned.
A second clap followed.
Threadhound stepped backwards into the cabin.
Inspector Kuroda drew his weapon.
A third clap echoed through the boat despite Hushline’s Quiet Field.
Not louder than her Quirk.
Inside it.
A barrier struck the edge of her field and carried the sound through.
Eraser Head’s eyes narrowed.
Midnight gripped the console.
“Red Team, movement behind you.” “We hear it.” “Withdraw now.” No one moved.
The applause stopped.
A man’s voice crossed the deck.
“You arrived much faster than I expected.” Eraser Head rose.
The body camera lifted from the bloodied shirt towards the cabin doorway.
Outside, a tall figure stepped beneath the swinging dock light.
Rampart wore dark trousers, a white shirt and a charcoal coat buttoned neatly at the throat.
No mask.
No dramatic armour.
No attempt to conceal his face.
He looked like a respected hero arriving to assist at a crime scene.
His gloved hands came together once more.
“Your teachers would be proud.” Back at UA Midnight recognised him immediately.
The hospital control room disappeared.
She saw Inko’s ruined apartment through Izuku’s description.
Invisible walls.
A mother bleeding from the eyes.
A child running barefoot into the dark.
Her guilt changed temperature.
It became fury.
“Red Team, withdraw.” Rampart’s gaze moved towards Eraser Head’s body camera.
He knew they were watching.
His smile widened slightly.
“Midnight,” he said.
Her skin went cold.
The body camera did not transmit her image.
He had guessed she would be there.
Or known.
“Do not answer him,” Nezu said.
Rampart tilted his head as though listening to a conversation he could not hear.
“How is the arm?” Midnight looked towards the medical patch.
Present Mic’s Blue feed shifted sharply.
“Control, say the word.” “No,” Nezu replied.
“All other teams maintain distance.
Rampart may have additional forces positioned around Red.” Eraser Head stepped onto the deck.
Hushline moved to his left.
Threadhound remained near the cabin entrance while Inspector Kuroda and the officers covered the gangway.
Rampart stood alone.
That meant nothing.
“Where is Izuku?” Eraser Head asked.
Rampart looked towards the evidence sheet inside the cabin.
The edge of the small T-shirt remained visible.
“You found where he was.” “Where is he now?” “Not here.” Invisible pressure formed in the air.
Eraser Head recognised the distortion.
Rampart’s barriers.
Several appeared between the containers, faint only where the dock lights bent around them.
He had already shaped the battlefield.
Midnight saw it on three separate body cameras.
“Shouta, withdraw.” Eraser Head’s eyes remained on Rampart.
“You entered Inko Midoriya’s apartment.” Rampart did not deny it.
“You killed her.” “She killed herself.” Mitsuki surged towards the console.
Masaru caught her shoulders.
“Let me talk to him.” “No,” Nezu said.
“He murdered her.” “And he wants you heard.” Rampart continued.
“Inko was given several opportunities to behave sensibly.
She chose violence.” Eraser Head’s hair began lifting around his face.
Midnight pressed the private communication control.
“He is baiting you.” “I know.” “Then move.” Rampart glanced towards the camera again.
“Does she still blame herself?” Midnight stopped breathing.
Eraser Head’s expression changed.
Rampart saw it.
“Of course she does.
That was the purpose.” Present Mic struck the side of the Blue Team vehicle hard enough to dent it.
“Let me go there.” “No,” Nezu said.
“He is talking about her.” “He is controlling you without occupying the same district.” Present Mic turned from the monitor.
“He has Izuku.” “Which is why you will not abandon your assigned team to satisfy him.” At the docks, Rampart took one measured step forward.
Hushline’s Quiet Field pressed against a barrier and warped.
The dock became divided into invisible rooms.
“Young heroes are remarkably easy to direct,” Rampart said.
“Point towards enough frightened civilians and they run exactly where expected.” Eraser Head’s eyes turned red.
Several barriers vanished.
Rampart’s coat shifted as the pressure around him changed.
His Quirk had been erased.
For the first time, his smile weakened.
“Where is the boy?” Eraser Head asked.
Rampart looked towards the shirt.
“Somewhere beyond his mother’s reach.” Mitsuki made a sound filled with enough hatred to silence the control room.
Midnight gripped the microphone.
“Red Team, fall back.” No response.
“Shouta.” Eraser Head did not blink.
Rampart’s Quirk remained inactive.
The other man knew it.
He also knew Eraser Head could not maintain his eyes forever.
“You brought three officers,” Rampart said.
“Two obscure heroes.
No warrant visible.
No official operation.” Inspector Kuroda’s weapon remained trained on him.
“We have lawful authority to inspect the vessel.” “Do you?” Rampart looked towards the officers.
“Or were you told that by a detective currently investigating his own colleagues?” Kuroda’s expression tightened.
Rampart smiled.
“Corruption makes trust terribly inconvenient.” Tsukauchi heard through Green channel.
“Do not listen.
Kuroda, your authority stands.” Rampart’s gaze moved from officer to officer.
“Does it?
Perhaps the documents were forged.
Perhaps the hero beside you has become unstable after losing a child in his care.” Eraser Head’s capture weapon lifted.
Midnight saw the movement.
“Do not engage.” Rampart continued softly.
“The boy trusted you, didn’t he?” Eraser Head said nothing.
“He trusted all three of you.
Then you left.” Midnight closed her eyes.
The hospital room returned.
The false nurse.
The needle.
Izuku reaching towards her.
“You do not get to speak about him,” Eraser Head said.
“I know more about him than you do.” The statement was calculated.
It worked.
Eraser Head took one step forward.
Hushline reached towards his shoulder.
He moved beyond her hand.
“Red Lead,” Nezu said.
“Withdraw immediately.” Rampart looked towards the river.
“The child spent three days learning what exists beneath your bright city.
Then heroes found him and taught him that rescue was temporary.” Eraser Head’s eyes burned.
He refused to blink.
Rampart’s barriers remained gone.
Still the man showed no fear.
That meant the barriers were not his only protection.
Threadhound’s head turned sharply.
“Movement in the containers.” Hushline expanded her Quiet Field.
Boots shifted somewhere beyond sight.
At least six.
Possibly more.
Rampart had not come alone.
Nezu spoke clearly into every Red Team earpiece.
“Withdraw.
He has selected the location, the numbers and the moment.
Do not give him the final choice.” Eraser Head stared at Rampart.
The bloodied shirt waited behind him.
Inko’s killer stood ahead.
Somewhere beyond both, Izuku was still missing.
Rampart spread his hands.
“Listen to your headmaster.” Midnight’s voice replaced Nezu’s.
“Shouta, please.” The word escaped before she could make it an order.
Eraser Head heard the fear beneath it.
Not fear of Rampart.
Fear that she would watch another person disappear through a body camera while unable to reach them.
His capture weapon lowered by a fraction.
Rampart noticed.
“How touching.” Eraser Head’s eyes watered.
One blink.
That was all Rampart needed.
The first barrier returned with a violent crack, rising between Red Team and the gangway.
Another formed behind Hushline.
A third cut Inspector Kuroda off from his officers.
The boat groaned as invisible planes locked it against the dock.
Eraser Head’s eyes opened again.
Red.
Focused.
The barriers vanished.
Rampart’s men emerged between the containers.
Eight.
Then ten.
Metal weapons.
Emitter Quirks.
One man carried an injector case strapped across his chest.
Nezu’s voice sharpened.
“Red Team, retreat now.” Rampart took another step.
Eraser Head’s capture weapon rose.
“Where is he?” he asked.
Rampart looked at the bloodied All Might shirt, then back at the camera through which Midnight watched.
His smile returned.
“Somewhere heroes cannot run to him.” The dock lights flickered.
Rampart’s barriers began forming across the riverfront.
Eraser Head’s eyes turned red.
And nobody moved.