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Musutafu, Tokyo Prefecture, Japan, Fall 1881.
 
-Denial-
 The bite of fall was settling into the air.  Kenshin ached with every movement; his long healed injuries a reminder and the new ones still stinging. During the Bakumatsu, injuries like this would be left to him to fix. In war, the hitokiri were expected to take care of themselves. Well, perhaps Katsura-san would have reminded him, but 13 years ago, naught but his commanding officers would dare approach the Hitokiri Battousai. How different he was now, to the man he was then. A boy really. A stupid boy that had leapt into a war he did not understand; eager to kill for the revolution, excited to prove his worth.   He had nearly lost himself in those days. Not to other Hitokiri blades as much as the blood on his hands and the taste of it with every meal.  He lowered his eyes to the dusty road. It had taken the loss of Tomoe, his late wife, to find himself again. The scar on his face stung at the reminder. It was because of Tomoe that he was even alive today. Had she not begged him to move on, to leave the life of the manslayer, he would have fallen on his sword the minute Katsura-san released him from service. It was because of her that he had traded his katana for the back-bladed sword, the Sakabatou he wielded now, and made himself a promise. Today, thirteen years later, it was because of a different woman he kept it. Had Kaoru-dono not confronted him that day, yelling about manslayers and the sword ban, he would still be wandering. He smiled at the memory. She had become no less...straightforward in the time he knew her. Hopefully she wasn’t trying to cook tonight. She had become no better at that either. Yahiko, now nearly the age Kenshin had been when he went to war, made sure to tease her for it every day. He could tell the sun would still be up by the time he got back to town, but nightfall would soon follow.  The breeze picked up a bit, ruffling his hair and sending a shiver down his spine as he walked. ‘ This one wonders if he will be in time to join everyone for the celebration of the birth of Dr. Gensai….and Hot Pot.’   He picked up his pace a bit, re-settling his sword and wincing slightly as the wound on his arm pulled against the bandaging. This fight had ended much better than he had initially suspected; one of them was almost as fast as he was.  He could have sworn that last strike...but no matter, the wound was not as bad as he had thought, and after only a short breather he was able to bandage himself up and head back toward home. At least he had found the criminal group before they could set their plans in motion.  Now they would face justice, and Kaoru-dono would not need to know that they had threatened to use her against him…..again. He paused in his stride as he realized he had forgotten to get the Sake he had originally been sent for, then stepped forward again with resignation. The wind blew once more as the first rooftops came into view, bringing with it the acrid smell of smoke.  It seemed too early yet in the season to need to heat buildings. He squinted into the setting sun, attempting to pinpoint the source of the smell. In the distance, a pillar of blackness rose up against the sky. It was too dark to be simple cooking fire, and too thick to be… his eyes widened. A house fire. He breaks into a run, glad now he had no sake bottles to weigh him down. As he comes into the main street of the town, he steps into chaos. People run to and fro with buckets, several men are shouting conflicting instructions. He runs up to a larger group at the bank of the stream and a filled bucket is thrust into his hands.  He meets eyes briefly with the manager of the Akabeko, Tae-dono. “Himura-sama?”  She looks startled, her face like she’s seen a ghost.  “You...you made it out of the fire?” “Made it out?” he replies in confusion. She nods and looks in the direction of the dojo. His head turns to follow the direction of her gaze. “The fire started there...I haven’t seen anyone come out--” but Kenshin is already running, bucket forgotten as it falls to the ground at Tae’s feet.  ‘Kaoru!!’ His breath catches in his side as he pushes himself faster, dodging those in his way with single-minded focus as he races across the bridge and toward the dojo.  His mind no longer registers his injuries from earlier as the dojo comes into view; the heat that radiates into the darkening sky and smoke in the air makes him stumble reluctantly to a stop in the courtyard.   The main building is lost to flames, but the villagers attempt to keep it from spreading further. Later he might notice the villagers, some trying to help, and their looks of sympathy.Later he might notice the that someone else recognized him; the accusations that fall from their lips. Later he might notice many things. But for now, he falls to his knees, and weeps.
-- It is deep into the night when the last bucket of water is put over the still steaming and smoking wood. Sometime during the frantic struggle against the flames he had been jarred from his misery and handed a bucket. He joined those fighting the fire; ignored the sting of smoke and sweat in his reopened wounds and refused to take shifts like the others. When the last spark was out, stumbling forward he was the first to begin trying to remove collapsed lumber to get inside. It burned his hands, the wood still hot to the touch, and others began to attempt to pull him away. “Rouroni-san!” A man he didn’t know tugged at his yukata. “You are just hurting yourself!” “I have to look! They could--” More arms wrap around him. “You have to let me--” “Rouroni-san. You have to calm down.” The man pushed him down to the ground and accepted medical supplies from a boy who quickly ran off to get more. He began cleaning the burns on Kenshin’s hands. “You will be no good to anyone unless to help yourself first.” “I can’t stop looking now! The longer we wait--” Kenshin attempted to stand again, but the man was stronger than a tired and wounded samurai. He continued to treat Kenshin’s hands. “We cannot do anything until the wood cools,” the man said firmly, his face momentarily softening, “I’m sorry, Rouroni-san, but they are likely gone.” “I--I can’t accept that.” Not Again!! his mind screamed at him, Yahiko. Gensai. Ayame and Suzume-chan. Kenshin chokes on tears, his voice already rough from smoke and emotion, his mind focusing only on the greater injuries to his heart. 
Kaoru.
 “I was--I was going to propose.” --- The next day, he joins the others in sifting through the ashes.  Those injured while the fire was fought have already been sent to the doctor at the next town over.  Some try to reassure him they will try to find out what happened, and help re-build. Numb from lack of sleep, emotional turmoil and exhaustion, Kenshin can only stare in sorrow as a few small bodies are found.   ‘Kaoru must have been trying to protect the little ones.’    He doesnt wait to find the others, gathering his remaining things and the smell of smoke still on his clothes, a rouroni looks back at Musutafu for what he thinks is the last time, and begins his wandering again.
--- 
Kyoto, Japan,  Late Evening, Summer 1891

-Anger/Depression-
 “Who is that?” He could hear the whispers behind him, but he tried his best to ignore them as well as the accusatory inner monologue that was his constant companion.  He lowered his bleary eyes to the bar and refilled his sake, also ignoring the side eye the barman was beginning to give him. “I don’t know, really,” another voice responded. This one Kenshin had heard before; he frequented this bar almost as much as Kenshin did. “He’s in here so often I’m beginning to think he’s glued to that seat.” “So old fashioned”, the other responded. “And that hair...I haven’t seen anyone wearing that style around here-I’m sure father could say for sure, but not since the Bakumatsu, at least. Not since that hitokiri guy started wearing it everywhere.”  Kenshin could practically hear the suspicion coloring the man’s voice. “Oh, that guy’s long dead,” The deeper voice scoffed as Kenshin refilled his glass again. “The government isn’t going to let a manslayer walk around. That’s just common sense. Especially not after all those other guys--I hear one of them lit a dojo on fire, burning everyone alive.” 
‘You should have been there.’
 “Of course not,” said a higher pitched voice, perhaps the first one that had asked who he was, “they would never have allowed him to go free after that--if they caught him.” Kenshin’s jaw tightened slightly, his eyes narrowing and his thoughts at their words  unpleasantly bringing him out of his self imposed stupor. He didn’t light the fire. ‘ Still your fault still your fault.’ He may not have gotten to them in time, but he did not light it . He did not.  
‘You might as well have.’
 “You’re all paranoid.” A round of laughter. “If you’re so sure the guy’s a manslayer just walk up and ask--not like he can do anything when he’s that drunk.”  ‘I’ll show you drunk, kid,’ a dark voice in the back of his head responded silently. Kenshin attempted to shake his growing anger off. That kind of thinking may have gotten him through the Bakumatsu, but this was not a war. And he was not that man any longer.   He was not. Even if he was itching again for a fight.  It should at least mean something . He could hear the scraping of chairs as some of them moved behind him.  He glanced at his cup and the bottle - out of sake. “Hey, red!” The man with the higher voice said, nearly on his back he was so close. “You trying to be a manslayer?” “Go away,” Kenshin growled flatly, reigning in his temper--which was notoriously short when he was drunk. The men behind him laughed and ‘ooh-ed’ sarcastically, and he felt a shove at his shoulder. He could feel the cockyness in the kids voice, with his friends egging him on, “You didn’t answer me.  Why are you dressed like that and who do you think you are, Gaikoku hito? This is our town and you can’t just ignore our questions.”  ‘You presume much about me and my origins, boy. It was my town before it was yours, and here they feared me.’ Outwardly, Kenshin did nothing but stand slowly and push his money over the bar. He was done here.  He tried not to sway as a wave of all day drinking hit his knees. The tense bartender moved no closer to the coins, somewhat warily eyeing both parties and glancing at the door. Kenshin turned slowly, and got ready to leave. “Please, move,” he said shortly. The young men jeered. What he wouldn’t give to smack them like unruly children. “Answer the question,” the boy demanded as he shoved Kenshin back against the bar. His sakabatou hit the wood, drawing their attention to its location on his hip. The idiot boy’s mouth opened to spew some more useless drivel. Kenshin’s drunken mind did nothing to stop him as his anger flared, and he elbowed the kid in the face, knocking him back into his friends. They pushed him back up, each reaching for a knife or holding up their fists. Kenshin’s hand slipped to his sword’s hilt.  He barely registered the squeak of the barkeep as he ran past him and out the door. “That’s it!  You’ll pay for that!” The idiot he’d punched moved at him first, knife in hand and blood dripping from his nose. Kenshin, slightly sobered up with adrenaline, smacked him easily to the side with the hilt of his partially drawn sword. As the first stumbled, the next moved in. He was taller than the first boy and while Kenshin’s impaired reaction time allowed him to partially deflect the first blow, it grazed his side and he grunted, kicking him back to draw his sword. In the following brawl, Kenshin stopped bothering to keep track of who was who and merely kept them back to the best of his shaking, drunk ability, backing towards the door. It wasn’t until he made it outside, two of the four young men knocked to the ground before the door of the bar, that one of the kids got the bright idea to throw his knife at the same time as his friend kicked at him from the other side.  The knife hit him in the gut with surprising, and likely serendipitous, accuracy. He stumbled back, hand at the hilt of the blade in his side, when they heard the whistles of the police and the galloping of their horses. “Police!” Knife boy hissed. The two of them ran, the others stumbling not far behind, out of the bar into the night. Kenshin, the pain registering with delay, and already having trouble breathing properly, stumbled into the nearest alley. The police swarmed the front of the bar, a few stomping inside to look for the brawlers as he stepped out of sight, turning the corner in the alleyway behind another building. Based on the shouts from farther down the street behind him, the boys had been caught. Kenshin chuckled a little at their misfortune, and coughed wetly, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He was beginning to pass out; the tell-tale blackness in the corners of his vision, the fog over his mind. Such an end. Kaoru would be disappointed in him, he hadn’t even been able to discover who set the fire.  But part of him rejoiced - at least now he could see them again and beg their forgiveness. He stumbled further into the alley, pressing against the wall as his knees trembled and he began to lose track of time. Blood flowed too quickly from his wound--the knife had ripped something, he was sure. The foggy shape of a darkly dressed man with odd yellow eye glasses leaned over him as he struggled against unconsciousness, starting to go numb, and Kenshin briefly hoped it wasn’t an officer. He could feel an arm pull him up and an odd swooping sensation before he surrendered to the darkness.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Kyoto, Japan,  Mid-morning, Summer 1891

-Reflection/Guilt-

When Kenshin wakes up, his head is throbbing. The mid-morning light stings his eyes and he aches all over. Rocks or perhaps tile digs into his back, and his face (

curse his pale skin)

is already slightly sunburned. Overall, he is rather uncomfortable. It is only after he opens his eyes again, squinting, that he realizes he had managed to get himself inside someone’s walled garden somehow, and cover himself in blood. He sits up, pushing himself against the wall.

How did this one get here??

His memories were foggy, unclear. There must have been a fight, or he wouldn’t be so sore.
 
His clothes are crusty with blood but he feels very little on his skin.  Was it his blood? If not, what did he do? He panics momentarily until noticing someone had removed his yukata and placed it beneath his head. His side aches with a vengeance. One of those kids had thrown a knife, but was that last night or another? He placed his hand over the odd bandage on his side and shifted closer to the wall, attempting to hide from the sun.
 
He looked down to examine his side, where the bandage stayed in place without a wrap. ‘

What is this thing?’

He picked at the edge, unsure if it is just stuck to him by blood or something else. He can’t help but think he should hurt more.  He seemed to remember having trouble breathing before, but was doing fine now. ‘

Was the wound from this last fight? Or a different one?’

There had been many in recent months.
 
He rests against the wall for a short while, closing his violet eyes and trying to ignore the throbbing headache. Now that he is thinking more clearly, Kenshin remembers the young idiot who had gotten him in the side with a lucky throw. He must have been practically lost to drink if he hadn’t knocked the small blade aside. How had he missed the other kid throwing a knife??  He must have been very far gone indeed, to miss something so obvious.
 
Rubbing his hand over the odd bandage, Kenshin looks around, taking stock of his surroundings.  He can feel the summer heat reflecting off the top of the wall, and is glad for his small sliver of shade.  Beside his makeshift shirt/pillow, there are some bits of paper and bloody cloth, the knife, his sakabatou, and a couple of odd, brightly colored bags.  He reaches over to examine one of the latter, taking the smoothly textured package into his hands.
 
He reads the odd writing on the bag with surprise, “Banilla Protein Pouch?” He feels the ‘pouch’ in his hands. What material was this? It was so smooth...and yellow.  Some odd fruit and a flower were pictured on the front as if painted

in

the paper, but this is the oddest paper he’s ever seen. He pulls at the white top, unsure how it remains closed and yet flexible, and starts as it pops open. What now? Well, based on the fruit on the packaging, it was meant to be eaten, so - Kenshin puts the white nozzle to his lips and squeezes out some of its contents.
 
Eigqhaelkj...sweet. He puts the cap back on the odd pouch, and continues his inventory.
 
The second pouch was blue, and said “Fuji Spring” in stylized Japanese on the front with a picture of a mountain along with some additional writing in English that he couldn’t read.  After some trial and error he discovered the top of this one

turned.

Twisting it off, the water sloshed a bit over his hands, and he realized immediately how thirsty he was. He eagerly emptied the odd waterskin, sighing a bit when no more water would come from the flattened packaging.
 
He glanced over the bandages again. For a stab wound, there was remarkably little pain in that area. Pulling the edge of the bloody bandage back carefully, he could see the rough edge of a wound well on it’s way to healing, with only minor bruising. ‘

How long had this one been unconscious?’

The healing wound appeared to be at least a couple of weeks old, rather than the few hours he had originally assumed. Had been unconscious in this garden for so long?

‘Oro?!’

Wouldn’t he be dead? A mostly healed wound, but a bloody bandage. That along with his clothes from the bar fight...it is turning into a very odd day.  
 
As disgustingly sweet as it is, he decides that the pouch goo is perhaps better than nothing...
 
---
 
It is nightfall when he wakes again.  Aside from what feels like a minor sunburn and the usual aches and pains he would expect after a day of sleeping on the ground, he feels no worse for wear, although very thirsty.  His mouth tastes awful and he immediately decides to never again eat any strange sweet - whatever that was.

Gathering up things, he eyes the wall behind him.

How did this one get in here?

Backing up a bit from the wall, he gets a running start and manages to clear it with one step to the top, dropping back to the ground outside in a crouch. His knees pop, his side twinges slightly, and he groans as he straightens up. Perhaps he should have looked for a gate.
 
---
 
He arrives at the Onsen well past midnight.  After sneaking around the back since he doesn't think he can explain his bloody appearance, he finds his things still in the room he has been renting.  Everyone is asleep at this hour, and leaving the weapons and pouches, he gathers a change of clothes and heads to the baths. Kenshin places his existing clothes to soak in a bucket once he has undressed, and he prepares to scrub the last few days off of himself.  Pulling the sticky bandage away from his skin he examines his side -
 
To find nothing but a new looking scar where before there was a still healing wound.

As his mind slowly restarts, he tries to understand what is going on.

He was in a fight.

Yes, obviously.  Blood all over his clothes, and the knife that had been thrown at him now sitting in his room

.
 
He remembers the drinking, he remembers the fight. He remembers too much blood...the alley?  A policeman?

No, it couldn’t have been a policeman or he would be in jail

.  But someone, someone had come up to him while he had been thinking of

home

.

Home.

He must have been dying.  But then

Why?

His face twisted briefly in pain and anger as his fingers traced the new scar.  Was it that man? The sweet goo? Why is this happening to him? Why is he not allowed the chance to make amends?
 
Perhaps he doesn’t deserve a chance to do so.

He exhales, taking a cloth and another bucket along with some soap, he quickly lathers up, taking out his frustration on his skin.  He rinses a few times, and washes his vibrant red hair. When finally clean and his mind has stopped going in circles, he steps over and slides into the hot pool to soak and regain his composure.
 
Perhaps he needs to find another way.  So he can deserve the chance to make up for what he has done.  For what he failed to do. She….they would not want him to give up on his vow to make up for the death he has caused.  
 
Pushing it from his mind he soaks for a while longer, and after going inside, dresses in clean clothes.  He is quickly growing tired again. It seems like all he has done the last day is sleep, but he knows he can not return to his futon yet.  He turns to the chore that is trying to salvage what is left of what he was wearing before. ‘

Blood is always awful to get out of clothing!’.

---
 
“Are you sure you do not wish to stay longer, Himura-san?” the owner of the inn asks as Kenshin pays for the room and some provisions to take with him. “I know you have only been in town a few weeks, but we welcome you to stay as long as you would like.  My family and I are already in your debt for your assistance last week.”
 
“Thank you, but I need to continue on my way. This one appreciates your kindness, Hanata-san.”
 
Hanata was quiet as he watched Kenshin gather his things. After a few moments of silence, he said, “You seemed troubled, when you came here.” Kenshin turned to him, confused. “I know it is not my place, Himura-san, but if you think you need to move on...perhaps the temple outside of town can help you.” Hanata finished.
 
“...perhaps. This one will wander for a little bit longer, but perhaps one day.” With a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Kenshin bows farewell, and then steps back out into the city.  
 
---

Unknown Mountain, Japan,  Fall 1915

- Bargaining/Depression-
 
He can still remember the terrible joy of battle.  He can remember his wife’s eyes as she begged him to give up the fighting.  He can remember how lost he was, how he couldn’t prevent his sword from sliding through her when she stepped in front of the blade.
 
He remembers his devastation years later in the heat from a fire, a love and life that he had thought he might finally be worthy of suddenly lost to him.  
 
He can still remember the feeling of helplessness and the need to move on, to be better, to be there to save them when it was impossible to change time.
 
He can remember so many days of wandering, so many suspicious glances, so many nights lost in drink.  
 
He can remember the movements of his sword as part of himself, the silence after a battle, the taste of blood in his mouth regardless of what he ate.
 
He can also remember those he has been able to help.
 
He can remember too much.  When will the good ever balance the bad?

Kenshin exhales mist into the chilly air. Wraps himself tighter in his coat, adjusts his burden, and continues up the mountain.
 
He doesn’t think he has been here before.  This place does not feel heavy with memory.  At least not his memory; just the weight of the age of nature around him and the care of whoever built the shrine he heard was above.
 
His legs begin to ache with the effort of the climb.  As he hikes, the sun slowly begins to rise above the trees, the air warming slightly around him and the sounds of a few small animals and birds greeting the morning light.  Starting up the mountain before dawn was probably not wise, but it seems better than this climb in the heat of the day.
 
Soon his mind is calm.  It is just the steps he takes, the breath in his chest, the sound of the waking forest around him.  Eventually he looks up as the path evens out, and the shrine is there before him, a young man - probably a monk, standing before the main doors.  Kenshin lowers the bag of rice from his shoulder, and walks up to the monk at the door.
 
The monk smiles kindly, and bows in welcome. “Good morning, wanderer.  You may call me Saito.”
 
Kenshin clears his throat, warming his unused voice, and hoping that things will go well.  “I am Himura Kenshin.” He bows, and the offers the bag of rice. “Please. Saito-sama, I would like to offer this, and perhaps...clear my mind.  This unworthy one would be happy to serve however you may have need.”
 
Saito smiled again, and simply gestures him forward and opens the door.  As Kenshin steps inside, he looks around at the simple yet elegant woodwork, and then follows the now silent Saito into the shrine.  Saito walks through part of the building, and out another door. They walk across a small dirt court, and into another, smaller building in the treeline.  Sliding back one of the doors in the inner hallway, Saito leads him inside. “You can stay here for as long as you have need. It would be appreciated if you can assist in the daily chores, Kenshin-kun, but we will not force you unwillingly.  This is a place of peace.” He glances at the sword at Kenshin’s hip, “Perhaps we can find you a stand for that, for it should not be needed.” His eyes light up with another brief smile toward Kenshin. “The rice however I will take - you can follow your nose whenever you are ready to eat.”
 
Somewhat startled at so kind and unquestioning a reception, Kenshin simply hands him the bag of rice with a bow, and steps back as the monk exits the room, leaving Kenshin to his thoughts.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Unknown Mountain, Japan,  Spring 1929

-Resignation/Acceptance-
 Kenshin shifted his hands on the axe, and continued cutting wood for the cooking fires. It had always easier to think clearly while his hands were busy. Today, he thought of the Englishman that had come to stay for a while.  He was not sure why the man was staying so long, but it was notable partially because it was uncommon. English was difficult, but Green-san was very patient in teaching, and his drawings of the shrine and surroundings were well done.  He had even taken to painting with ink surprisingly well. Kenshin did not think he would ever be good at English, but perhaps some day he could read the writing on the strange pouch he still kept hidden with his few belongings in his room.    Life here was simple, and he was getting slowly better at keeping his mind out of memory and in the present.  It took little to no effort to take joy in the nature surrounding them. Saito-sama had been very helpful, and although the grounds were somewhat large, there were only 4 others living here at the moment, 5 if you counted the visiting Englishman.  Kenshin spent most of his time doing chores like chopping wood, and helping in the gardens. He still practiced his forms daily, and worked to be fit. He volunteered when the surrounding villages needed help with things like harvesting or guarding something.  He had even found a missing child once, a free spirit of a boy was off on some adventure and lost himself in the wood. Reminded him a bit of himself, once upon a time. Recently he had added teaching Japanese to Green-san and attempting to learn English.  It still seemed very unnatural to speak that way, but hopefully his skills were improving.  It could only help to know English as a second language - Japan was no longer so alone in this world.   There had been another war a few years ago. They had called it a war to end all wars; although Kenshin was skeptical that men would give up fighting simply because the last time ended badly. He had considered going to join the fight before it had ended.  Something he was good at, or at least had been, but it was unlikely to help balance the scales of his life. Yesterday Green-san had watched him practice his forms.  Perhaps Kenshin could convince him to spar, since Green said he had been a soldier of some type during the conflict.  It would be good to practice against something new. Japan was changing yet again, and he wasn’t sure if he liked the changes.  Things had been so simple once, but now each time he stepped into town it seems like something else was different.  Perhaps that is just the result of isolation, but it seems better to isolate himself from others, than to try to find another life that he doesn’t deserve.  It is better to stay out of the way and just help in the little things. The arguments circulate through his brain on a well worn path, and he almost believes them. Kenshin sets the axe aside against the wall and begins carrying wood to the kitchen pile, methodically stacking it for later use.  Once he was done with this, Green-san wanted to work on perfecting his Japanese. He continues collecting the split wood methodically, back and forth to the pile.   As he brings the last of it over to the stack beside the wall, Saito-sama, now somewhat older but still as thin as when they had met, steps out of the doorway nearby with a smile.  “Good Morning Kenshin-san. Lunch will be ready shortly, if you would like to tell Green-san, I will go let the others know it is ready to eat whenever they are done.” “Thank you,” Kenshin smiled, “This one will clean up and let him know the meal is ready.”   
Unknown Mountain, Japan, Spring 1930
 Kenshin watched Henry Green paint the stream nearby with a steady hand on the small canvas.  He grinned a little as the man half turned to him with his brown eyes smiling and messy brown hair - without his accent he looked more Japanese than Kenshin ever would: red hair had done him no favors except with foreigners.  “Well what do you think?” Green asked as he dabbed it a bit more with his brush, “I think I might keep this one for myself.” Kenshin shifted his attention from the man's face and back to the painting. “I think you have improved, but even at the start I thought you did well with your craft.”  After a winter of practicing speaking together, English came more easily to his tongue. Henry had taken rather naturally to Japanese also. Henry turned back to the painting, pretending to consider it while speaking to the man beside him, “I’m headed to France next, you should come with me.” “Come with you?”  Kenshin blinked. “What would I do in France?” “If you want.” Henry pauses almost imperceptibly before continuing, a number of expressions flashing across his face as Kenshin tried to read it, ‘ He’s so much better at hiding his emotions from when he arrived ’. “Well, get some new clothes for a start.”  Henry halfway jokes, “I mean, how long have you been wearing the same thing?  I think I have only seen two outfits of yours, and no one else wears that anymore.”  He nods at Kenshin’s well worn favored red yukata, which was really more pink at this point. His brown eyes lingered over the fraying collar. Kenshin straightened his clothes self-consciously, “What is wrong with them?” his eyes began to notice the flaws, “besides the re-sown sections.  And...alright, I see your point.” He falls silent for a short while, listening to the stream and watching his friend paint, although it already looked pretty much finished.   Green glanced at Kenshin’s face a few times, but didn’t fight the quiet, knowing that Kenshin was sorting his thoughts.  Eventually, Kenshin replies “I am - not sure I am ready yet to leave. This has been my home for some time, and while I know I can not change the past…” Henry smiled gently, trying not to be disappointed. He reaches over and clasps Kenshin’s shoulder with his off-hand, “I understand.  You will be alright again in time. So will I!  Just keep in mind that if you need a friend, I will be happy to help. It might do you some good to spend time somewhere else.” “I will think on it.” Kenshin halfway smiles and switches back to his native language, “I appreciate your friendship, Henry-san.” Henry laughs and shakes his head, replying in kind, “You had better write to me, or I am going to forget all of my Japanese.”   
Unknown Mountain, Japan, Winter 1939
 Kenshin shifted his hands behind his head and adjusted his weight across the futon.  Sometimes it was just nice to lay down somewhere warm and not worry about anything. For a long time the isolation and serenity of this place had made it easy to forget the world continued outside - seasons, years.   But then he had made a good friend.  He turned his head, eyes going immediately to his sword hung on the wall, and the painting of a stream signed H. Green.     Even after so long, these were the only real decorations in his room.  The painting which usually brought him such comfort, instead immediately brought the worry back to his mind. They had a radio in town now, with broadcasts of news and other events.  He was hoping to hear news of the war against China and the conflict in Europe when next it was his turn to collect supplies at the village.  He didn’t think he understood the actions of his own government toward their neighbors. His last letter from Henry had said Britain was expecting to be soon at war with Germany, and despite his recently born third son and beautiful wife, Henry Green had been offered and accepted a position back with the Royal Navy.  He had even sent a picture once. They looked good together. Smoothly Kenshin rolled up and got to his feet, walking out through the courtyard and into the main building of the shrine.  As was his habit, he stopped to light some incense for the memory of those he has lost. He will never forget them, but he can speak of his losses now without as much anger or guilt.   ‘Someday, I will find a way to be who they thought I could be.’ He lights another stick of incense in the hope that some protection will be given to his long absent friend Henry Green and his family, and sat a while in silence.   He could hear Saito-san somewhere outside, humming tunelessly. Saito’s hair was grey now.  Kenshin tried to total up in his head the length of time he had been on the mountain, and he was not sure.  He felt more at peace then when he had arrived, but he didn’t feel much different otherwise. Perhaps it was time to move on. He could see the tower in France that Henry-san had written about so long ago, and perhaps even visit his friend in London. It would give him an occasion to wear the British style suit that Henry had sent him. Writing English was not the same as speaking it.  His skill with writing was much better, but he did not have much occasion to speak to others outside of tourists.  It would be good to practice that again as well. Perhaps he could ask Henry what “gluten free” means. Although he could now read the english on the odd pouches from Kyoto, he still was not much closer to really understanding what it meant. He had been able to re-fill the water-skin numerous times, and it had already outlived a few additional ones he had since.  He had washed and kept the other pouch, but had never really had the heart to use it. He was still worried deep down that it may be responsible for his abnormal youthfulness.   
Village near Unknown Mountain, Japan, Summer 1940
 Kenshin tied the sacks of rice and other provisions to the horse, listening to the radio playing further up the road where a small crowd is gathered,  “...An armistice has been signed in France, ceding control of the country to the joint forces of Germany and Italy, which are now in full occupation of Paris.  This is a blow to the allied powers….” Cinching the final loop tight, Kenshin turned the old horse back up the hill and out range of the broadcast. As he walks through town, he hears others talking about the news, and nods at a few who wave to him as he passes. When he returns to the Shrine a while later, Kenshin hands the horse off to a new stable hand (part of the new stable at the expanded shrine complex he had been helping to build) who bows and stutters awkwardly until Kenshin leaves. It is quite amusing, but the boy’s anxiousness swiftly returns Kenshin’s attention back to his own, which had been building since he heard the broadcast in town. In his last letter, Henry-san had written that his oldest son had already followed in his footsteps and joined the Royal Navy. If something so big as an armistice had happened since then, it was likely that someone like Henry would find a recruiter and immediately rush to the aid of his countrymen. As he arrives in his room, he pulls out some new paper and ink to begin penning a letter.  Starting with news of the three new buildings and those people that Henry knows from his stay at the shrine, Kenshin tells him of the past few months and the tensions he has seen in town.  It seems obvious to him that Japan has been growing it’s armed forces again, although since they are still at war with China, this may be why. He then continues: 
‘...Were you or your son involved in Dunkirk? We heard on the radio that many soldiers were saved by the actions of civilians in small boats.  I admit to not knowing how close you are to where those events took place. I should perhaps find a world map.
  How is your family?  Congratulations also on your new son!  You should be proud of such a family. How long has your oldest been interested in the Navy?   I had thought after your experiences in the first war   I apologize, I know you had asked me not to speak of that.  
I know we have talked before your time in the Navy of your country, but I do not remember you mentioning your son joining before your last letter.  Although I have some skill in war, I fear I will get pulled into a conflict I do not agree with if I remain here much longer. ...'
 His friendly questions continue on for a while on a lighter note, and then he switches into Japanese for a few lines, just to keep Henry in practice.  It was something of a game they played with each letter, to see if they could accurately translate the poem or riddle from the other man. 
'Kogane sabi
(The tarnished gold)
Wakaba ni shinobu
(And the fresh greenery)
Mukashi kana
(Bring back memories of bygone days) 
-Miura Chora
 
It is always good to hear from you my dearest, friend.  I have been thinking I will come to London and finally see the things you have told me about.  I have missed our conversations and your company. I hope you and your family are all safe and healthy.  If all goes well for me, you will perhaps see my visit within the next year.
 
Your Friend,
 
Himura Kenshin’
  
Unknown Mountain Shrine, Japan, Fall 1940
 It is already fall when Kenshin hears additional news.  Saito-san returns with a few others from a day in town, and seeks Kenshin out while he is practicing forms.  He steps out into the courtyard area, and raises a hand to get Kenshin’s attention as he moves toward him. “Kenshin, I must apologize for interrupting, but I think you should hear about London.  I know you still write to Green-san, and I thought you would like to know.” Kenshin stops immediately, “News?  What is going on in London?” Saito’s lined face is grave as he replies, “The Germans have been bombing Britain almost constantly for the last few weeks.  I hear there has been much destruction, and many are being evacuated from London. Do you know is Green-san still there?” Kenshin’s normally cheerful face has settled into a furrowed frown while Saito speaks, his worry obvious to all who know him, “I have not heard from him since his letter early this summer.  I had hoped to have a reply soon, but I think he was still in in the city when I wrote.” “I will give an offering for his safety.  I am sorry to bring you such ill news my friend.”  He grasps Kenshin’s arm briefly in comfort, and then turns back toward the main building. He pauses and glances back, “Also, there are soldiers in town, recruiting for Japan.  Some of the others are going to join…” he looks momentarily like he wants to say more, but instead steps back inside. Kenshin watches him go thoughtfully, and then without fully registering the decision he has made in the back of his mind, turns back to the opposite side of the clearing, heading toward his room.     
Henry and Kenshin

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Somewhere in the Indian Ocean, Fall 1940
 
Kenshin decides sea travel is very pleasant.  The brisk salty air and the roll of the ship while he slept he found very calming.  Other than some minor trouble getting them to accept his papers at the port, he had been able to purchase passage on a cargo ship that would get him to London in a little over a month.  He should have visited more places before now! It was surprising that in so short a time, he could be nearly across the entire world! Two weeks into his journey, and he had already seen more of the world then he had in….well the rest of his life.  He was glad for the locked case he had brought with him. His sword carefully packed beneath his clothing, papers, and his few other important belongings that he had collected over time. He had left the painting at the shrine, not wanting to risk losing it in his travels.  
 
He was sharing a cabin with 5 other people.  One of them, Nakamura-san, had told him that it was a good price for international travel, as long as you have the time to devote to it.  Still it seemed very expensive to him, and if the return trip was just as pricey, he may not be able to afford to go back to Japan for a while.  
 
He had not been spending much time in the cabin, as three of the others sharing it had been almost constantly sick the first week, and one still was.  The smell was unpleasant. He did make sure to bring water and some food to them and check to see how they were doing. It hurt him nothing to be kind.  
 
This trip had given him his first opportunity to speak English in quite a while. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed it.  The entirety of this crew spoke at least some English. This was after all, an English ship. Some of them spoke a smattering of other languages.  He had caught a few speaking what he thinks was French, and some other European sounding languages. A few of them also spoke a bit of Japanese or Chinese, since that was part of their regular trade route.  One of the speakers had a terrible accent, coming from a place called Teks-iiiis, but he thinks that he understands most of the time. He will have to ask Henry what “Tarnation” means when he sees him again.
 
He had managed to find a place on deck to exercise each day, and although Kenshin would have liked more privacy, eventually the First Mate whom everyone called Thatcher, and sometimes other crewmen would join him in his morning routine.  
 
---
 
It was perhaps 3 weeks into the voyage when he was called up to speak with the Captain, another Englishman named Smith. He stepped into the main cabin. The Captain was at the helm with the First Mate and another man, and they seemed to be having a discussion over heading.  The man who had led him up there nodded at a chair facing a desk, and Kenshin sat.
 
The crewman walked up to Captain Smith and said something quietly, and the Captain looks up at him with a considering expression as his escort walks back to his post. Smith turns to the first mate and excuses himself from their argument, and steps over to the chair behind his Desk.  Kenshin turns to face him as Smith walks past him to his own chair. “You wanted to speak with me, Captain Smith?” Kenshin says in clear English.
 
The Captain looks momentarily surprised to hear English, then quirks an eyebrow with his reply, his face serious, “Yes Mr. Himura.  I need to know why you are traveling to London.”
 
“I am traveling to visit a friend of mine, Mr. Green and his family,”  Kenshin smiles openly. “It has been many years since we have seen each other, but we still write frequently.”  
 
Smith considers Kenshin’s words, resting his arms on the desk and clasping his hands together,  “How do you know Mr. Green?”
 
“He came to Japan to learn Japanese and to paint,” Kenshin gestures with one hand, “I taught him Japanese, and he taught me English.”  The Captain just continues to look at him, and so after a moment Kenshin continues, “Oro….He was there for about a year? He lives in London?”  
 
“Hmmm.” The Captain replies, still staring at Kenshin, who begins to suspect that this Captain Smith may also have been in the military at some point.  
 
Kenshin then grins, wondering if this is some sort of a return prank.  Since their recovery from sea sickness, the sons of one of his cabin mates had been exchanging pranks with each other and with him, once they discovered he enjoyed the challenge.   “Did Mr. Nakamura or one of his sons put you up to this? He said he would get me back for the salt in their tea.”
 
The Captain raises an eyebrow again and briefly flashes a smile, “No.” He coughs, his face returning to seriousness, “I am afraid I am not familiar with Mr. Nakamura.  He is another in your cabin, yes? Do you know him well?”
 
Kenshin is surprised at the change in questioning, “No. Not very well.  He said he travels frequently, and we are in the same cabin so we have of course talked from time to time. This one, oro,” he fumbles briefly, “

I

only met those in my cabin when I paid for the journey. Two of his sons are with him.  The final man in our cabin, Sakana-san, I mean, Mr. Sakana has been ill, but I think he is alone?”
 
Smith nods and then asks, “What did you write to Mr. Green about, and do you have any of the letters with you?”
 
Kenshin paused to think back. “We have talked about many things...He wrote to me about his wife and children quite often. He is quite proud of his children.” He smiles again, laughing internally as several funnier letters and some of the poetry come to mind. “He said his oldest joined him in the Navy earlier this year; I hope they are alright.” Kenshin’s face sobers again at the last comment. “I have all of his letters; I was going to use them to find his home when I arrived in London.”
 
The Captain clears his throat, “I realize it is a breach of privacy, but I will need to see the letters to corroborate your story.  In light of recent events, I am sure you realize why.”
 
“Recent events?” Now Kenshin was even more confused.

Did he mean the Blitz?

That was over  a month ago, now. And as far as he knew, he looked nothing like a German man. “Oro… Do you perhaps mean the bombings of London?  I am going to London to check on Mr. Green because of our long friendship, but you can see the letters if you wish?” He began to stand to collect them, “Could I please ask though, what events do you mean?”
 
The Captain looked surprised. “The Pact of Mutual Alliance? Japan allied itself with the Germans almost a week ago.  It’s been broadcast on the radio on almost every frequency.”
 
Kenshin’s heart froze and he sank back into the chair.

What?!? Why on Earth would his homeland ally itself with a country that preached violence against other races?

His departure from the shrine seemed to have come at the last possible moment to avoid possibly being forced into another war.  The recruiters in town outside the shrine now took on another role in retrospect. He had disagreed with many of Japan’s actions in recent years; such as the aggression against China, but this, as Henry had once said, ‘took the cake’.
 
The Captain was carefully watching his reactions, his own expression a schooled neutral.
 
“An alliance...with the Nazi’s?” He asked, his face and body language echoing his shock. “Oro...are they mad?” He muttered to himself. Kenshin shook his head, momentarily overwhelmed by what this will mean for his country. “I did not know their stupidity had reached these new heights.” He grumbled, running a hand over his face.
 
The First Mate walks over to them, handing Smith a slip of paper when the Captain turns his attention to him.  Smith reads the note, then raises his eyes to Kenshin again. “Thank you for your honesty. Thatcher here will escort you back to your cabin.  Please provide him the letters.” The Captain begins to stand, then turns back to Kenshin, “Do Mr. Nakamura or Mr. Sakana speak English?”
 
Kenshin replies thoughtfully, “I have only spoken to them in Japanese, but I can ask when I return to my cabin.“  His face momentarily reflects his worry as he stands again, “Will I be able to get the letters back?”
 
The First Mate, Thatcher, glances to the Captain before answering for him, “As long as your story checks out, I don’t see why not.”
 
Kenshin hopes that means yes, bows to the Captain who has already turned his attention elsewhere, and follows Thatcher back out onto the deck and toward his Cabin. “Sorry about all this, Mr. Himura.  The Captain is only doing what he must to ensure the safety of those on board.” Thatcher says over his shoulder as he walks. “He really is a good sort. A great man to serve under.” The First Mate smiles apologetically at him as they arrive at his door.
 
Kenshin nods in understanding and steps into his shared cabin, which is surprisingly empty, and pulls his locked case from under his wall mounted bunk.  Unlocking it with the key around his neck, he pulls the twine wrapped stack of letters out and stands, offering them to the uncomfortably shifting Thatcher.  This one had probably not been in the military - he wears his emotions so openly! “Please let me know if he needs the Japanese portions translated.” Thatcher nodded and quickly departed with the letters.  
 
Needing something to channel his worry, Kenshin returned to the portion of the deck where he usually did his morning workout. He tried to clear his mind as he worked through the usual movements and forms, almost surprised that the sun was still shining and the sea air still pleasant when the news of the day had been so bad. In the background, he could hear gulls, which he was told meant they must be sailing close to land.  
 
Stopping midway through his routine, he walked over to the railing and leaned on it, just watching the waves for a while.  He understood, he really did. He had been through war before, and the actions of his country reflected on him, as much as his actions may reflect upon his country.

Perhaps there is some way I can show I mean no harm, that my views and those of those now governing Japan no longer align.

No answer comes to him as he considers the sun reflecting off the water, the sea wind and the movement of the ship with the waves ruffling his clothes.
 
---
 
It was a few days before the crew got back to him about the letters. Apparently, given the younger crew members’ habit of gossiping like old women; a translator, another crewman, and the captain himself had dedicated a few hours every day going through years of personal letters. Kenshin supposed it should make him uncomfortable, but he had nothing to hide. Henry was a good friend, Kenshin was concerned for his safety, and that was the long and short of it.
 
He was called back to the bridge, led by a different young man this time (who also had red hair, as Kenshin was amused to observe), and he was asked to sit in the same uncomfortable chair as last time.  As he sat he noticed that the desk was bolted to the floor.
 
Captain Smith eyed him from across the desk. The man seemed tired, which was unsurprising given that he had very few free hours ignoring the time dedicated to reading through Kenshin’s letters. A good captain like Smith wouldn’t be here, however, if he felt he was unfit to work for the day, so Kenshin decided against bringing it up.
 
Suddenly, the Captain spoke. “Have you ever been married, Mr. Himura?” Kenshin blinked,  unprepared for the seeming randomness of the question.
 
“Yes, many years ago, now,” he met the Captain’s gaze, “She died - we were both still very young.”
 
“..How young were you, when you were married?” Smith is eyeing him again, but in a way Kenshin recognises. Many people have said he ages well; he looks to be perhaps thirty, if you gave a generous estimate upward. Of course, last time he checked, some time in 1851 subtracted from 1940 is - not thirty.  His mind immediately shied away from the impossible passage of time. Curse that mysterious yellow package.
 
“Oro,

very

young,” he says, perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Sixteen...Eighteen...somewhere around there.” The Captain looked confused, so Kenshin clarifies, “I am from a rural town, I do not know my exact birthday..or year.”
 
“I see.” Smith leans back into his chair, “Well, Mr. Himura, your letters seem...innocent enough,” another look, this time with a small glance at Thatcher, who had coughed right after Smith had finished his statement, “So they’ll be sorted by date, as they were originally, and returned to you shortly.”
 
“Thank you.” Kenshin deemed that sentence safe enough. He was usually oblivious to social cues, but even he could not ignore the scrutiny of Thatcher from his side. He felt awkward, although also pleased to hear his letters would be returned.
 
“Murray will bring you your letters shortly.”  Captain Smith gestures to the red haired lad that had brought him to this meeting. “When he makes it back to the cabin, can you please tell Mr. Nakamura to accompany Murray back to speak with me?”
 
“That reminds me, Mr….oro..Captain,... Smith.” Kenshin flinches subtly as he stumbles over his own words again, “You have asked me to speak to them?  Both Nakamura and Sakana have said they have some basic knowledge of English, but it would probably be good to have a translator for more than simple conversation.”  Kenshin stands as the Captain does, “I can help, if you need assistance.”
 
The Captain nods thoughtfully, glances at Thatcher who is giving Kenshin the side eye, and then nods again, “I will call if we have need of your skills.  Good Day, Mr. Himura.”
 
Kenshin bows to the Captain, and this time returns to his cabin alone.
 
------
 
It was late the following evening, thinking over the events of the past few weeks, when Kenshin first became suspicious of Sakana-san’s ‘illness’.  It came and went at strange times; with no reasons that Kenshin could infer. It had seemingly nothing to with the tide, and ebbed away at a whim. Whenever he wasn’t sick, Sakana-san would wander the ship, and frequently Kenshin had seen him slip into areas not permitted to passengers. The younger man had claimed it was because he couldn’t read the signs, but Kenshin knew very well that he at least knew what the word ‘head’ looked like (

although why the toilet was a head he didn’t know)

, and ‘crew only’ looked nothing like it.
 
Kenshin had decided to approach the First Mate about his concerns, and so this time he walked toward the bridge on his own. He was startled out of his thoughts when the exact man he was looking for stepped out of another passageway and nearly ran into him.  Thatcher stumbled back quickly. “Ah...Good evening! Mr. Himura.”
 
The first mate had been oddly nervous around him lately, and Kenshin hadn’t been able to figure out why. It was rather amusing, honestly.
 
“Oro, I was looking for you,” Kenshin said. The man slowly began turning an interesting shade of red.
 
“For me?” Thatcher squeaked. “I mean, uh, what can I do for you?”
 
“You have been helping the Captain with the …. Investigation of my purpose, going to London, and the others, yes?” Kenshin questioned. Thatcher, who had probably just come from a shower with his wet hair and only partially buttoned shirt, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, but nodded.
 
“..yes. Please understand, I can’t divulge any information to you--” Thatcher said awkwardly, but Kenshin waved his hands as he had seen Henry do, interrupting him.
 
“No, no! I need no information.” Kenshin looked up and down the hall quickly, and leaned forward slightly. Quietly, he continued, “My cabin-mate, Sakana-san, has been ‘ill’ this whole voyage. I do not believe that is truly the case.” Kenshin floundered for words. “He...I have seen him

-oro, what is the word-

sneaking about the crew only hallways, and his sickness is like none I’ve seen. I have concerns he is attempting to deceive us.”
 
Thatcher no longer looked awkward; his face hardened into that of a man considering his options. With a small glance over Kenshin’s shoulder, the first mate gestured for Kenshin to follow, and they walked briskly to the Bridge.
 
The First Mate nodded to the man on duty beside the door, and opening it, gestured Kenshin to precede him inside.
 
“Captain Smith, Sir.” spoke Thatcher as they stepped up to the Captain’s side.  
 
The Captain looked up from his station in surprise, “Thatcher?  Forgot something? I thought you had gone to bed...” he trailed off as he noticed Kenshin standing behind the First Mate. “Mr. Himura --” the Captain turned his attention back to Thatcher for an explanation.
 
“Sir, Mr. Himura brought some information to my attention about one of his cabin mates.  I thought you would want to hear it immediately.” he nodded to Kenshin to continue.
 
“Captain Smith.  I have noticed Mr. Sakana may have been faking his long illness.  I also have seen him enter some of the areas marked only for crew.  I felt that I should bring this to Mr. Thatcher, who brought me to you.”
 
The Captain’s eyebrows raised as Kenshin spoke, he frowned somewhat, and asked after a considerable pause asked Thatcher, “Can you get me the letter from Mr. Sakana for his nephew?”
 
Thatcher nodded and went to the desk, shuffling through a drawer briefly before returning with a letter that had not yet been posted.  It appeared to be ready to post upon reaching shore. “Here you are Sir.” The Captain directs the letter to Kenshin, and Thatcher hands it over.
 
“Can you read through that, and let me know if anything stands out to you - anything at all?” The Captain requests.  Kenshin pulls out the letter and begins to read it to himself. Pausing, he reads a section again, and then shows that section to the Captain.  
 
“Here”, he points “this part he writing about how he looks forward to viewing the cherry blossoms in December, and to have ticket purchased by October.”
 
The Captain nods, looking up from the Japanese script to Kenshin’s face as he continues, “What is odd about it?”
 
“There are no cherry trees blooming in December.  The earliest anywhere in Japan they have flowers is usually late January.  Also, you do not need tickets to view - they are all over the place, you can walk around and see them.”  Kenshin frowned thoughtfully, “Also - and I could be wrong about this, I do not think that Sakana has a nephew.  I seem to remember he said he had no family.”
 
The Captain and Thatcher exchanged a look. “Thatcher, please collect Mr. Sakana and his things - take Maxwell and Baker with you.”
 
Kenshin just raises an eyebrow and offers the letter back to the Captain as Thatcher leaves the room.
 
“Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Himura.  We had some reservations about Mr. Sakana, but combined with your input and additional information, we think we have found who we were looking for.” The Captain smiles genuinely, and Kenshin realises this is one of the only real smiles he has seen from the man. “If you are up to it, I would appreciate if you spend some time with our translator during the remaining journey - see if you can give him some pointers as Japanese is relatively new to him.”
 
Kenshin bows, and tries not to feel embarrassed about the whole situation. “Of course.  I will do my best.”
 
---
 
When he gets back to his cabin some time later, Mr. Sakana’s bunk is empty, and Mr. Nakamura and his sons are talking worriedly amongst themselves.  They fall silent as he walks in, and remain so while he falls asleep, the rock of the ship lulling him finally into unconsciousness.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

London, England - Mid to Late October 1940
 It’s a drizzly and cool morning when Kenshin gets his first view of the port.  They are escorted in by a small tugboat in the early hours. Having packed the day before, his returned packet of letters were back in his case, and he was already ready to disembark.  He had rigged it with some rope so he could carry it across his back - all of his things except the new letter of recommendation from Captain Smith, should he have need of it. That letter along with his papers were tucked into the inside of his jacket.  Mr. Nakamura was finishing up his packing in the cabin with his sons, and Kensin was simply enjoying the feel of the mist on his face and the new surroundings. He really was enjoying the whole experience...up until the fog began to clear from the shoreline. Kenshin had been faced with war before. He was no stranger to the results of conflict, but this...level of destruction, was truly something new.  Horrific, but new. His face blanked, and he took in the rubble, remains of buildings fallen upon each other, into the port, everywhere. Remains of burned out buildings besides rubble, beside...completely normal buildings, which looked fine.  The bombings must have been more significant then even was stated on the radio. He could even see some lingering smoke in the distance. Those of the crew that had been working nearby, or whom had been watching at the rail nearby had similar expressions of shock.  Work had paused or slowed significantly, and Kenshin realized this was probably the first these men had seen of their homeland for some months.  Perhaps they didn’t know if their families were safe, or if their homes were still standing. Suddenly feeling as if he were intruding, Kenshin moved back against a bulkhead and waited for the docking to complete.  It did, in somewhat eerie silence. Once the gangplank was pushed to dock, and some of the crew had disembarked, Kenshin was waved over by Thatcher, who flashed a brief half-smile, and invited him to follow down to the customs personnel.  By this point Mr. Nakamura and his sons had also joined those on deck, and followed them down to the shore. He escorted them down the dock and handed them off to a middle aged man in a thick grey wool coat, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.  After a cursory review of their papers and asking their reasons for visiting, they were released past the barricade and Kenshin started walking down the semi-destroyed street into this very foreign city.  He spared a brief pitying thought for Mr. Nakamura and his sons, who had not only headed in a different direction, but only one of whom actually read any English. Kenshin still felt the roll of the ship although he was on land.  He wasn’t sure why, but he did know it would throw his balance off a bit if he needed to fight.  Deciding to find someone who looked official and could perhaps provide directions, Kenshin set off down a street that seemed somewhat intact, and was immediately glad he had decided to change into the suit before disembarking.  He was getting a few odd looks, but not as many he thought as if he had been wearing his traditional Japanese style clothing. He spent about two hours wandering semi-aimlessly into the city, taking in not only the odd mix of destruction but also being amazed by the people.  He got a few looks, sure, but he got a few smiles as well, and a small girl walking with a group of other children even waved hello when she noticed him watching them.  A school group maybe? The women escorting them glanced up at him distrustfully, but continued without saying anything. He stopped at one point to help an old man clear rubble from a doorway, and again later to help a ratty looking cat get a half eaten fish out from a rubbish pile. He chucked a bit as the cat ran off with it’s prize. Continuing down the main street Kenshin smelled something delicious and fried, and following his nose to a man who appeared to be selling fish and chips out of a small stand between larger buildings, he suddenly realized he was also without any English money.  He couldn’t even remember Green talking about money while they had been at the shrine, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about getting any work in order to feed himself. Trying not to smell or look at the very wonderful food, Kenshin cleared his throat and hoped he wouldn’t drool.  “Excuse me Sir, do you know where I could find a money changer, or somewhere I could trade work..” Kenshin glanced toward a nearby ruin of a building, “Or...help with recovery”?” The man appears momentarily surprised and scratches the back of his neck. “Ahh, not sure?  You could try the port? Or the war offices - or really, just look around for any who seem to need a hand?”  He gestures down the street, “Further down that way, look for the signs that identify the shelter - plenty to help there.”  A flash of guilt and regret crosses the man’s face, “and ‘ere…” the man grumbles. He wraps up some fried fish in newspaper and hands them over to Kenshin, who is momentarily speechless while passing the hot greasy package from one hand to the other, “I ken see you are ‘ungry.  Just...do what good you can. Right?” The man nods dismissively, turning to the next person approaching the stand, and Kenshin brightly smiles and bows his thanks and continues down the street, suddenly in much better spirits despite the semi-destroyed surroundings.  It ended up taking almost a week to reach the part of London that Henry Green and family lived in.  Kenshin couldn’t help but stop and work with the recovery crews on the way, and usually he was fed and had a place to sleep at one of the shelters at night.  The fourth night he even experienced an air raid siren for the first time. A stream of people crowded into the shelter with him and those few already there, and it was an odd mix of tension and normal conversation.  Some of them were even wearing odd masks that covered most of their faces. A middle aged man, his wife and a young baby ended up right next to him, and he could hear them arguing about going into the countryside. There was a loud thud somewhere nearby and the room shook a bit, dust falling from the ceiling and the lights flickering.  The baby began crying along with some people further back in the shelter, and the woman looked worried. She just nodded silently when her husband insisted that tomorrow they leave for her sister’s house. Kenshin noticed a small boy of 7 or 8 years curled into himself against the wall, arms covering his head protectively.  He seemed to be alone. Kenshin stood, pulling up the blanket he had been given earlier and slinging his case across his back, and carefully shuffled over trying to avoid stepping on anyone.  He crouched down in front of the child and wrapped the blanket around the boy’s shoulders. The boy looked up startled with round green eyes. He had obviously been crying, and Kenshin could now see that he had a shallow cut on the side of his face as well.  “Are you alright? Can I help you?” Both of them looked up as another more distant thud rattled the room, then glanced back down to avoid dust in their eyes.  The boy sniffled and wiped his nose on his arm, leaving a trail of snot and blood across his cheek. “N..no….Im m..k.” the boy replied in a shaky treble.  “Just, c..can’t f..f.find m’sister.” Kenshin shifted to sit beside him against the wall. “Is she here? What does she look like?”, he coaxed gently, trying to keep the boy’s focus on him and not on the outside world.   “S..she….ran the other way!”,  the boy broke down again, and Kenshin wrapped one arm around him comfortingly.  “I am sure she will be fine. We can look together once this stops, yes?” The boy continued crying, having buried his face against Kenshin’s side.  Kenshin glanced up again at another distant rumble, and waited with the others for the long night to end.  Kenshin woke chilled against the stone wall and with a cramp in his arm.  The boy had obviously fallen asleep at some point as well, and was still curled up half against his side and with tight grip around his arm. Well...that explains the cramp.  Kenshin genty tried to disentangle himself so that he could return circulation to his hand.  Some of those in the shelter had left once the all clear sounded a few hours ago, but many of the others were still here.  The sound of people moving around had awakened him from his sleep - that and there was a flash of weak daylight down the stairs when someone went outside.   He reached over after rubbing out his arm and shook the boy softly “..oro...Boy?  It is morning…” The boy grumbled something and rubbed his eyes, his face covered in grime but the cut no longer bleeding.  Kenshin patted his shoulder and stood up to stretch, “We can look for your sister, yes? And we should find something to clean up that cut on your face so it doesn’t turn sour.”  He smiled down at the wide-eyed child who scrambled up and was dusting himself off, trying to look older than he probably was. “Thanks mister...‘ere is your blanket”, he crouched down and scooped the blanket up, offering it to Kenshin.  “Sorry about...blabberin’ on you last night.”, he lowered his eyes a bit with a flush of embarrassment, “I ken take carro’ myself mostly.  You serious about ‘elpin’ me to find my sister?” “Of course, but it will be easier if I know your name”, Kenshin smiled, folding up the blanket and draping it over his shoulder, “You can call me Himura.” “Ah...sorry, yes!  I’m Jeffrey, Jeffrey Fisher.”,  he thrust out a dirty hand and Kenshin remembered to shake it. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jeffrey Fisher.” Jeffry wrinkled his nose a bit, “Just Jeffrey.”  Kenshin nodded. “So what does your sister look like, Jeffrey?”    Kenshin had been told before that he was good with children, but he didn’t think he’d been alone with someone so young for a very long time. Not since...well.  Kenshin cut the thought off there. Jeffery was quiet, obviously worried about his sister, and after the third shelter Kenshin could see the boy was beginning to lose hope. “I don’ think she’s ‘ere, Mr. ‘mura,” Jeffery sighed. Kenshin patted the boy on the back, looking around to see if he could spot her. From was Jeffrey had described, he was looking for a smaller girl; basically Jeffery but with longer blond hair and blue eyes. It was an endeavor in vain, because there wasn’t a young girl of that description in sight. Kenshin sighed. “I have an idea,” he said, after a few moments. Jeffrey looked up at him. “I came here to find my friend, Green-san. Let’s go to his house, and get his help to find your sister.  He may have a better idea of where to look?” “Alrigh’.” Jeffery sniffled a bit. “Whats ‘san’ mean, Mr. ‘mura?” “Oro.” Kenshin blinked.  Using the letters in his suitcase and Jeffery’s far more intimate knowledge of London and its streets, they did finally make their way to where Green had sent his letters from. His tension increased as they got closer to the address, since the obvious damage to the neighborhood was high.  Unfortunately, it just got worse as they made their way around the debris. What had once been a two story house belonging to a family was now a pile of rubble collapsed over half the street. There was a small section of the house still standing in the back, but it looks as if it has been abandoned for a while.  Fear momentarily filled Kenshin’s being. Was Henry okay? Was is family? Quickly, however, Kenshin centered himself. He had a child with him who was already worried and scared, and Jeffery needed someone calm to lean on for now. “Mister ‘mura, do you think your friend is okay?” Jeffery asked, looking up at him from where he held Kenshin’s free hand. Kenshin nodded, taking a deep breath in. “I will be right back Jeffrey, I am going to go to that bit in the back and make sure that there is no one still here.”  The boy looked at him skeptically, but as tired as he was he just nodded and sat down, wrapping the blanket he had claimed as his own around him. “Yell if you fall or somethin’.”  Kensin flashed a grin and left his case with Jeffrey, heading over the rubble and around what had been the side of the house.  As he neared the remaining sections, he was surprised to see that there was a door still intact, along with taped over windows and a little bell which he assumed was to ring if someone came to the back.  He tried the door which was ironically locked, but was able to climb through a large crack in the wall closer to the corner of the house. Brushing dust and rubble off of himself, he appeared to be in a large kitchen.  Other than the layer of dirt in some areas, and bits of brick near the crack, he might have expected someone to walk in any moment.  This room was almost completely intact, and he could tell it was a fairly nice home from the care with which things were stored around the room.  It was however obvious that no one had been back to the house after the destruction. The door on the opposite side of the room could not be opened all the way - blocked by rubble.   He tried the slightly ajar cupboard doors, and was surprised to see that the biggest one opened up into a small pantry type room.  He momentarily felt guilt, but realized that Henry wouldn’t begrudge him whatever he could find. Especially for the boy. He grabbed a hard half cheese and a small string of sausages, and found a basket with some very stale bread.  He decided it was better than nothing, and collected the bread too. Rummaging a bit he found a cheese cloth and wrapped up his scavengings, and looked around until he found a small knife. Taking that as well, he squeezed back through the crack in the wall.  He was somewhat relieved not to have seen the sign that anyone was home when the house was ruined. Hopefully he was right. Kenshin made his way back around the house and over the debris, and smiled at the sight of Jeffrey curled up on the ground, surprisingly asleep.  No doubt it had been a very hard and tiring few days for the child. He sat down and shook his shoulder gently “Jeffrey - I have some food. Are you hungry?”   Jeffrey woke up almost immediately and scrambled back to a sitting position, “Ah!  oh..uh...Yeah?” he scratched the back of his neck and peered at the wrapped cheesecloth.  “What do you have?” Cutting off one of the sausages and a sliver of cheese he handed both to Jeffrey, who happily started eating without talking any further.   They shared one of the stale rolls, and Kenshin also ate one of the sausages before wrapping the rest up. “We’ll save some for later, yes?” he smiled.  Jeffrey eyed the bumpy cloth with some regret but nodded. Kenshin turned his eyes back to the wreckage of Henry’s home and couldn’t help the flash of worry that crossed his face.  Standing, he swung his case back over his shoulder, and he forced himself to smile at the boy, “Well…” he trailed off and looked down, not sure what to say. Is he to be allowed to care for anyone and not lose them?  Jeffrey stood and took hold of his hand again, “It’s ok Mr. ‘mura, we will find them, right?  Them an’ my sister.” Kenshin’s smile flashed back to his usual brightness, touched by the gesture of comfort from Jeffrey, who himself had been through so much. “There is a way to find out, that there is,” Kenshin said, “Did you see a war office on the way here, Jeffery?”  
London, England.  December, 1940.
 Kenshin looked down at his pressed, navy blue uniform and sighed.  A pity he couldn’t just have worn the suit or his normal clothes. He waited with a few others on the dock-side for the boat that would ferry all of them out to their ride...berth...ship.  He ran his hands through his shorn hair and sighed. His head was cold. At least they could have let him keep his hair. It was so....short now.  He shoved the hat back onto his head and picked up his bag - stuffed with other identical and similar clothes - and his case.  On that he had insisted. He was sure he looked even more foreign with short hair.  It wasn’t as if his asian features and violet eyes were common in Europe. Not that violet eyes were common in Japan, either. He stood with the others and gathered his things as a lieutenant with a clip-board came and started checking their orders. While he waited, he thought of Jeffrey, who was safely on his way to the countryside along a number of other children.  A girl with the same name as his sister (who had told the caretakers that her brother was still missing) was at the location he was being sent. Hopefully it was actually his sister. Kenshin said he would write to him, so hopefully the boy would get his letters.   The War Office had been unable to help him find out what happened with the Greens, but they were happy to see his letter of recommendation from Captain Smith, as well as a few other notes that some of the recovery crew leaders had written for him.  The first two days had been repeated discussions between other people at him that went somewhat over his head head about duty and the honor of working for the good of all. This was followed by the conversation with with someone with more rank and someone from “intelligence?” when he agreed with whatever the first man had been asking.  Then another talk with his superior… Eventually he had then been shuffled into a room and left for a day to rest. He had been asleep on the floor when they had come to collect him again - the bed was too soft.  After another half day of being interrogated by a man that seemed sure he was a spy, he was finally interviewed by a man who listened to him, rather than just talking at him.  Kenshin explained yet again that he was here to find Green - but that he was happy to help them with translation or instruction of Japanese, or recovery in the meantime. The man had reviewed his papers and letters, and taken him at his word. After a physical exam and signing some newly typed papers with his name written in English - he was on his way to….well he didn’t know where, but supposedly they needed people to instruct Japanese.   When he had happily agreed, he hadn’t quite realized that meant he essentially would be joining the military again. They told him he was going to be commissioned a “Special Officer” (he wasn’t sure just what that meant), and only a month later, after a number of tests and him learning a crash course in Navy protocol, here he was.  Kenshin was next in line, and stepped forward offering his papers to the Lieutenant for him to check off and stamp. “Special Officer Himura reporting.” The man looked up from his cursory review of his paperwork and smiled.  “Looks in order.” He stamped Kenshin’s papers and consulted his clipboard.  “You’re on the leeward side, down three levels, door 14. Lower bunk. Further orders will be provided on ship.”  The man turned to the next in line, and Himura joined the rest of those waiting on the transport. Upon arriving at ship he attempted to follow the half-remembered instructions, and tried to avoid running into anyone else with his bag.  When he had said he wanted to help - anything they needed him to do - this wasn’t quite what he had meant. Still....This was good, something positive to do, something to help him continue to live...and help others to live. At least so he hoped. An hour later, Kenshin and the other new men were pulled aside and given their standing orders. Kenshin would be preparing what basically amounted to a crash course in Japanese language and culture. The military didn’t care over-much for it; but Kenshin remembered the letter he’d translated on the ship to London, and how, to someone unfamiliar with the seasons and culture of Japan, it had seemed innocent.  Knowing something as simple as when cherry trees blossomed could very well save thousands.  Then again, it had been a very long time since Kenshin had had to teach anyone anything.  His last student, in fact, had been Henry nearly….oro... nearly 10 years ago, now? Kenshin suddenly felt incredibly old, indeed. Curse that strange Banilla pouch and it’s mysterious, sweet contents. He would likely never know if it was truly the culprit, but it had become tradition, almost, to blame it for all inconveniences.  
Off the coast of Portugal, December 1940
 After three days at sea he was almost done preparing for the briefing that afternoon.  He needed to have an outline prepared for a two week course, a month long course, and a six month course that was more comprehensive.  That along with lesson plans and his turn at shifts for radio operation and chores kept him fairly busy. Once he was finished and handed over his plans, then the experts would have their crack at changing it for when they arrived.  He momentarily considered writing all of his notes in Japanese to turn in, just for fun, but he knew that would just get him in trouble, and he was trying to help.   Maybe just half of them in Japanese…     At least the ship has tea, which was a wonderful perk. He stopped by the mess to collect himself a pot of just that, and then retreated to his shared room which also had a shared desk.  His bunkmates were all on shift, so he should be able to finish his review and finalize his outlines before the briefing. Sitting and pouring himself a cup, he was momentarily startled by a loud horn noise that he belatedly realized was the alert signal.  Quickly downing the still too hot tea and gasping a bit of air to cool his mouth, he left his cabin and began heading to his station, only to be knocked off of his feet as someone seemingly fell from the air on top of him. Kenshin grunted in startled pain as his head hit the metal deck of the passageway.  He hadn’t even noticed anyone there! He needed to pay more attention. The man who had knocked him down scrambled up. “I am so sorry!  Are you alright?” The man, dressed in a utilitarian black jumpsuit with a pouched belt extended a hand to help him up. “Ah yes, thank you.”  Kenshin said as he was pulled to his feet. The man was surprisingly strong. “Are you alright?  Having trouble getting your sea legs?” Kenshin considered the odd uniform and wrapped scarf - not one he had seen before.  The man’s hair was somewhat long and messy too... perhaps he was an engineer or worked on deck? So many things he still just didn’t know about this place. A flash of something almost akin to recognition and surprise flashed over the man’s face, but then he quickly turned away, and looking about him in some apparent confusion the man replied, “...Something like that.” He half smiled and bowed, “excuse me.” A flash of yellow was visible at his neck as he straightened up and then took off down the corridor, quickly turning around the corner.  Kenshin assumed he was heading to his station and turned back on his own path, filing the encounter away for later. It wasn’t until he nearly tripped over the ship’s cat (whom he had nicknamed mochi because of her chubby appearance) that he realized that entire encounter had been in Japanese.  ‘ ...Hmm..must be another instructor on board.  It will be nice to work with them!’  The all clear signal sounded right as he made it all the way to his station, and a ship wide announcement stated u-boats have been sighted in the area.  One reported sunk by another ship prompted some brief cheers from surrounding crewmen. Heading back to his cabin after a short exchange with the radio operator notifying him he would be off for the remainder of the morning, Kenshin decided he was tired of looking at lesson plans.  ‘I can just wait and coordinate my plans with the other instructor .   He will likely be there at the afternoon briefing anyway - better to speak with him before finalizing anything else.’     The briefing that afternoon was fairly short. He met the rest of the instructors - One for Italian, one German, and one Russian, and they turned over their lesson plans for review.  Kenshin stood slowly after they were dismissed, and waited until the Schoolmaster had completed gathering all their reports to get his attention. “Ser, I was wondering, is there another Japanese instructor on board?  Or anyone that you know would be fluent in Japanese?” The man shook his head and laughed, “Ah, not that common of a language for most here.  No. You are the only one I know of on board - we have one other instructor at the school, but that’s all.” Kenshin nodded slowly, nervously smoothing his short hair, and considering that he could just be losing his mind. “Thank you Ser.”    The Schoolmaster nodded again, and left the room.  ‘Had the man actually been speaking Japanese?  He was somehow familiar...do I remember him from somewhere else on ship?’   Kenshin sighed aloud and started walking balk to his cabin.  He probably just needed more sleep. Entering his cabin he was sad to discover the tea was now cold.  Straightening up his notes he collapsed back on his bunk. Hopefully all of this was worth it.  Hopefully Green was ok, and his family was also. After a brief fight with himself he decided to spend some time writing a letter to Jeffrey-chan and Henry-kun.  Who knows if they will ever get the letters, but if there is one thing Kenshin learned from his previous experiences, it is that you should say things when you have the chance.  If he really was losing his mind - no time like the present.   
Kenshin with new Hair :D

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Mediterranean Sea, December, 1940
 Sunlight puddles were the best.  Eyes half closed, and lounging comfortably in the sunlight, Patches-Mochi twitched her ear toward the noise of the door opening.  Languidly standing with a long stretch and raised tail, She greeted Mrewe and twirled briefly around the legs of the first mate (must leave a new coat of hair to claim her people-kittens after all) before heading out into the passageway.    It was early yet, but time for her rounds.   First, all the way to the engine room.  She had charmed her way into their good graces and enjoyed leaving random gifts for the people-kittens down here.  They saved her yummy things and gave her good scritches. They had all gotten very excited when she batted a shiney hard thing out from under some piping and where they could reach it on the floor.  That had been a very good scritch day. It was very odd though, they seemed unsure when she left food for them. It was as if they didn’t even know what to do with a perfectly good rat. The rats disappeared pretty quickly, but she had yet to see any of them actually eat one. After distributing purred Mrreww s and more head butting and leg twirling, Mochi continued around the ship, checking things out and eventually taking a shortcut onto some piping and made her way to the galley. She jumped up onto her usual perch beside the kitchen door, and announced her presence.  When she had first become the ship cat, she had made the mistake of going into the kitchen. An angry red-faced-kitten-person had chased her out, but one of the others always had something extra to share and some pets. “g’Morning Patches!” greeted the brown haired-food-kitten, one of the cooks, setting a small plate of scraps and a bowl of water up for her to enjoy.   Prrrow!  She happily replied, and continued telling him what she thought while trying the food.  Quite good really, better than rat, an he always seemed to think it funny when she talked while she ate.  A short, grumpy voice calling for him made him stop petting and look up, and then with a last pat he headed back into the kitchen. After making sure her whiskers were sufficiently clean, she hopped down off the table and curled around the legs of a few more crewmen for good measure before wandering back into the hallway.   All in all she felt pretty good about the day... Until the RETURN OF THE AWFUL HOOTING NOISE. Startled, she raced down the corridor and tried to hide herself anywhere she could find.  She ran into a cabin door as it opened and scooted up under a bunk - which was perfect until the bunk was lifted and a kitten-person she didn’t recognize was peering at her with confusion.  She took off again, back out the open door, squishing her somewhat fluffy self behind some pipes, and crouched shivering for a few minutes while people ran up and down past her. Eventually, the people running slowed, then stopped, although the loud noise continued.  She creeped out into the passageway, peering carefully down at the next corner when she was suddenly almost crushed and someone tripped over her with a loud “Oro!” She yowled and scrambled as best she could back behind the pipes, glaring at the Small-red-kitten-person and arching her back intimidatingly.   “Sumimasen Mochi!!” the Small-red-kitten-person called out to her as he scrambled up, and continued jogging down the hallway and around the corner.  Unacceptable. She began angrily cleaning her ruffled fur and tried to think of ways to make the Small-red-kitten-person regret not paying attention to where he was going or even apologizing properly with scritches and treats for his adoptive mother.  Foolish kitten. The loud annoying noise finally stopped, and changed to some other garbled kitten-person sounds, then went silent. She looked up to the end of the corridor as another man-kitten-person peered with black eyes down the hallway.  This one was wearing a bed-thing and bright yellow toy around it’s neck, moving slowly and cautiously, and although he was not one she recognized, he looked down and actually noticed that she was there. ”Prrrow?” she questioned.  A flash of a smile crossed his face, and he crouched down to scritch behind her ears. Ah yes, this one was acceptable. Perhaps she would keep it. She scooted out from behind the pipes and rubbed his legs, enticing a quiet chuckle from his lips. “Hmm, I guess you are ok?  I thought I heard a yowl.” He murmured, rubbing one finger under her chin. This one smelled like other cats...how odd. Then suddenly, he faded from view.  Also odd. She sniffed around a bit, her tail twitching. Hmm.  Well...time for a nap.
***
Kenshin felt bad about tripping over the cat.  The quickly faded bruises on his knees notwithstanding, he couldn’t imagine it felt very good for poor Mochi to get tripped over.  He traded some well hoarded cigarettes the next time he had a chance for some tinned fish. It was another few days before he could coax her over to his cabin as a peace offering after his shift ended. “So sorry Mochi! You are alright, yes?  Here...I got you a treat. Please do not be mad, had to hurry, and there was another Japanese man, and ...well...Here you go.” Mochi daintily snagged one of the small tinned fish and retreated to the other end of the bunk with her bounty. By the end of the can, she apparently had forgiven him since she was back to purring and trying to wrap herself around his legs.  He obliged her by laying down on the bunk and eventually drifted off without changing or even removing his boots, purring cat donut on his chest. His last conscious thought was that perhaps he should have gotten a cat. This was a nice cat. Pity he couldn't take her with him off of the ship.

Docks at Alexandria/ United Kingdom Mediterranean Command, Egypt,

December 28, 1940
 Mochi decided that this was now her kitten-person. He was entirely too small, compared to the other people-kittens on board, and she must feed him.  He could seemingly hunt enough to bring her fish, but he had not eaten any of the rats she had left for him. Silly small red-kitten-person. Perhaps she would grace him with a proper name. If Her Person was to be hers, then he would need a good name. Red was too simple, and reminded her of Red-Bad-Person from the London. He was stupid. Stealer of food. So not Red. Perhaps ‘Oro’? He makes the noise whenever he does a stupid-kitten-thing. Like tripping over her when she was in the corridor. Yes. Oro seems appropriate. It’s a noise she can make, too, so he’ll definitely know when she is scolding him. Human-kitten-persons make silly noises, and never make any sense. She’d tried to teach them proper Speak but they’re often too stupid. A few make meows back, but sometimes they say silly things like ‘Metal-bird’ when she asks where her skritches are. Silly, stupid kittens. This one seems smarter at least. Maybe Oro will be able to learn proper Speak. She would never choose a stupid Person, after all. Well, maybe he is a little stupid. He is putting all of the things that smell like him in a box and bag-not-for-sitting, like he is leaving! He is not allowed to leave! Mochi-Patches lives here! But he continues shoving the things in the no-sit containers. Soon he is done, and he follows the other kitten-persons out of the room and into the hallway after giving her a half-smile and a few pets. “Oro! No leaving!” She meows at him. Oro is being a stupid kitten. She hops down and slinks into the hallway. They reach the sunshine-metalbird-nest. The ship isn’t rocking as much so they are at land. He is leaving! Oro, you stupid kitten! He reaches the land-ramp and starts leaving. Mochi-Patches decides that if he is going to be so obviously unable to care for himself, she has to go, too. Someone has to feed Oro, he is too skinny. Much too small. She weaves quickly between person-kittens, making sure not to touch them. They’ve tried to stop her from leaving the ship before, and this time she will not be thwarted. Oro-kitten needs her, and he wont stay on the boat like a good-kitten-person. Stupid Oro. Maybe she will call him Red after all.  Kenshin first realizes something is wrong when he begins unpacking his things. It had been nearly three hours since the ship left, refueled and ready to return to the fleet, and then to it’s next post. He’d stayed outside, waved to the friends he made on the crew as the ship left his sight, and went to hunt down the quartermaster for his room number and orders. He’d hunted down his door, wrestled with the small, crooked key and the half-broken lock, and then left the door open as he set down his case and sea-bag to begin unpacking. The first uniform was put away in the foot locker beneath the bed, when he was startled by a small noise. “Mrrew?” He thought for a moment that maybe there was a cat here, too. It wasn’t impossible, there were rodents everywhere that needed ratting. But this meow sounded familiar. It sounded again, and Kenshin looked around. Not under his roommate’s bed, not behind the door. He turned around to check under the desk across the room, only to find Mochi sitting peacefully on top of the other uniforms on his bed, distributing copious amounts of fur. “Oro?” Mochi opened a blue eye at his startled outburst, unsympathetic to his mental breakdown. “Mochi you are supposed to be on the ship!” He walked over to the bed and sat down beside her. She got up, stretched, and made herself at home on his lap. “Mochi!” The cat was not deterred. Mochi curled up and appeared to be getting ready for a nap, and Kenshin was at a loss. He did not want to get rid of Mochi, and he did desire a cat (or at least company), but now there was a ship-catless ship. A long confused sigh escaped his lips. Well...tomorrow. The ship had already left, so he would ask tomorrow what he should do. First he needed to meet the other instructor that was already on site and that he was supposed to share this room with, and unpack.  He absentmindedly stroked the cat now purring on his lap. He could really use a cup of tea. There was a knock on the semi-open door and Kenshin looked up.  Perhaps it was his roommate? “Hello? Is it safe to come in?” a clear tenor voice asked with a hint of curiosity and humor, “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow - sorry about the mess.” Kenshin glanced around the room and wasn’t sure what mess the man was talking about, “Ah, yes.  It is fine, come in, come in,” he scrambled up, “I am just unpacking.” Much to the chagrin of Mochi, he quickly tossed a blanket over her, and tried the block the wiggling blanket from view of the doorway. “MmeRRremERre!..” Mochi muffledly objected. “I’m your roommate, Green...what is that?”  he heard from behind as the man entered the room and closed the door behind him. “Nothing!?”  Kenshin flushed and spun around, closing his eyes and praying to the ancestors that the cat would just stay still and be quiet. “Its…” Mochi indignantly skidded out from under the blanket and onto the floor.  She yowled her irritation at Kenshin and began re-adjusting her fur with angry licks interspersed with scolding commentary. “....a cat...” Kenshin finished, opening one eye and cautiously peeking at his new roommate who was still frozen in the doorway. The man looked like he’d seen a ghost.  “..k..Kenshin??” he stuttered and suddenly Kenshin recognized the voice.   “Henry!??....but...your hair is ...Green-san?” Kenshin blinked, and in shock, defaulted to his usual blunt self and native language, “Henry-san...you got old!”  followed a moment later by the happy exclamation, “You are alive!!” Henry Green just stood there, taking in the impossible view of Kenshin - still seemingly 30 but now with short hair and standing in front of him halfway across the world from where they had last met. “You...you didn’t age a day?” Green broke first, running up and capturing Kenshin in an excited embrace, “How did you end up in Egypt?”  Extending him out to arm’s length, “How did you end up in the Navy? Why are you still so young??” It really was Green, just...older.  A little greyer, smile lines on his face. Still cheerful and with that slight accent to his Japanese. Kenshin beamed and laughed “Long story,” his eyes twinkling with mischief “don’t you know that Asians do not age? We just wake up old one day and become wise.” Green smirks and laughs, “That explains the age, but what about the cat?” “Oro,” Kenshin flushes and scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment, “She followed me from the ship?  I don’t know how she got here!” He can’t help but smile and reaches out to grasp Henry’s shoulder. “It is..very good to see you.” “You too, Kenshin, you too.” Henry shakes his head in disbelief, and then retreats to his own bed across the room sinking in to take a breath and figure this all out in his mind. “How...I mean...bollocks..”  he trailed off, still not thinking clearly and suffering from so many conflicting emotions. Kenshin sat on his bed across from Henry and just couldn’t stop smiling.  How wonderful! Henry Green was alive, and here, and he had unwittingly adopted a cat.  This was a very good day.

United Kingdom Mediterranean Command, Egypt,

January/February, 1941
 It took very little time to fall back into their friendship.  Kenshin caught Green up on what had happened since his last letter had arrived, and they both laughed when one of Kenshin’s letters was delivered to Henry a week later.  Green seemed upset to discover his house had been destroyed, and insisted on sending his wife a letter for some news. Hopefully she had gone to her sister’s house outside of Oxford before it was too late.  He couldn’t think of anywhere else to write. Kenshin sent off his letter to Jeffrey, and told him about his aid of the recovery crews and the air raid where he had met the boy. It was good to have Green back in his life.  Kenshin didn’t realize how much he had missed their conversations, and it was also good to have another person around to help hide Mochi from room inspections.  It was still a bit jarring at times to look up and see just how much his friend had aged. It couldn’t have been that long, had it?  Japanese classes went smoothly, and they fell into an easy pattern.  Kenshin also discovered that if he locked the door to the classroom after classes were done, he could usually get in a few hours of forms each week.  It was soothing to move through the rituals and habits and just empty his mind and move his body for a while. Integrating his past with his present. One of the storage closets in the classroom was also an excellent place to hide his locked case.  Then he didn’t need to carry the sword back and forth to his room, and only needed to carry is clothing when it needed to be washed. It was much hotter here than in London, but at least in the evening the breeze came in from the sea, and the classroom was on the third floor, so there wasn’t much chance of someone watching him from outside. Green would stay and watch sometimes, or draw on his sketch pad or correct papers.  It was good company. Jeffrey’s first letter made it to them as they were heading back to classes from lunch about a month later, before Henry heard back from his wife.  Kenshin impatiently paced during the remaining lessons that day and frequently eyed the clock. When they combined classes near the end of the day for conversational practice, Henry eventually just waved him off and Kenshin quickly escaped back to their shared room to read the news.    
Dear Mr. Murrah,
  I am very happy to get your letter!  I found Mary, she is here too and with another family in town.   She said she dint, did not blev  She said I was fibbin when I said you were real, but I showed her the letter and now she has to take it back.    
The family I am staying with has loads of goats, which are pretty neat when they don’t try to eat your hair.  I have learned to feed them and help with things in the barn. The other boys here are sort of nice. I don’t like the other Jeffrey, he smells and he sneaks food, getting the rest of us in trouble.  
  Mrs. Willshir said I should write to my parents, but I think Mum didn’t make it out of the     I don’t know if they’re alive.  They would have come back for us right?  Mary hadn’t seen Mum either, and we staayed in the house for a week after she went out.  I send a letter anyway.  
Mary is helpping me with words for this letter, because she is better at writin stuff than me.
 
They also have a mean horse and we can get to ride him some times.  His name is Merlin, and he keeps tryin to brush me off on trees, so I don’t like him much.
 
Did you heer from your friend that you lost?  It would be no fare if I found Mary and you wer still looking.  
 
I have to go eat now.  
 
Your friend,
 
Jeffrey Fisher
 
P.S. This is Mary - are you really friends with my brother?  Are you a soldier? Our Mum said that Papa is a soldier, but we don’t know where he is.  I know my brother did not write the letter - your handwriting is better than his. I hope you find your friend. I think Jeffrey spelled your name wrong so I am going to copy it off your other letter to send back.

It was good to know that not only Kenshin had trouble spelling english words.  So many things that sounded one way and were spelled another entirely. Kenshin was very pleased to hear that Jeffrey had found his sister - he couldn’t wait to share the news with Henry! Kenshin walked to the mess hall and picked up a kettle and squeezed into the back of the kitchen to heat some water.  Tea...Tea was needed. The kitchen was busy, but he had already cleared it with the head cook to make himself some tea each night.  He never smoked his cigarettes, so he had been trading those for cans of fish and scraps of meat for the cat. She seemed to appreciate his additions to her diet, but kept leaving birds and rats and things on his bed, which he was less happy about.  When they left the window cracked in the room, she could get out and walk along the ledge by the window and often escaped out for hours, only to return later and act like a diva when they weren’t paying enough attention to her. Retreating back to his room with the kettle and he poured himself some tea and sat down just as Henry came back in from class.  “Henry! Good news - Jeffrey found his sister.” he gestured to the letter laying on the desk, “You can read it if you like, and there is tea.” Kenshin lifted his cup to take a sip as Henry wandered over and picked up the letter, chuckling a bit as he read it over. “Sounds like he is in a good place, him and his sister both.”  Henry laid the letter back on the desk, and stepped over to pour himself a cup.

United Kingdom Mediterranean Command, Egypt,

March 7, 1941

Two weeks later Henry got the news that his wife had made it safely to her sisters home in Boars Hill, and they had a celebratory drink with some of the other instructors.  Somehow, this turns into a conversation about France when they return to their room. “I still haven’t seen the Eiffel Tower...do you think it will make it through the war?”  Kenshin continued as they walked in, “I had intended to make a tour out of my visit - since you had mentioned how much you liked it there, how beautiful the city was.” “I’d imagine it would…” Henry yawned, rolling onto his bed and kicking his shoes off on the floor. “It was beautiful.  Wish you had been there to see it.” he mumbled into his pillow. Kenshin flopped on his bunk, startling Mochi who flicked her ears with annoyance and curled back up.  Laying with his hands behind his head, he looked over at Henry who was already snoring lightly. Kenshin just chuckled and closed his eyes, going to sleep.  
United Kingdom Mediterranean Command, Alexandria, Egypt,

December, 1941
 They hear about Pearl Harbor three hours after it happened. Japan was drawing the US into the War. That was the eighth. Four days later, Green receives a telegraph. The H.M.S. Repulse had been sunk; his son was missing. Afterwards, Green is given ‘leave’, which is really a week of permission to lock himself in their room. Kenshin tries his best to comfort his long time friend, but every word seems to make Henry more upset, and Kenshin wisely backs off. The absence of Green is not the only change in those few days. After the Harbor was bombed, many of his students and the other instructors seemed to go from friendly to cold in a matter of hours. He may not look typically Japanese, but pretty much everyone is familiar with his country of origin. It was easier, in the beginning, to ignore the occasional remark about his nationality. It had been irritating, as expected, but easy to ignore in favor of Mochi and grading and losing to Green at poker. Now, however, there were ridiculous upstarts attempting to do everything from trip him to sabotaging his work. In an intelligent decision on Kenshin’s part, he invested in locks and resisted the urge to beat some sense into these boys with a bokken. That would be counter-productive, however satisfying; since they cannot learn Japanese from Medical. He spends much of the time Green is closeted in their room locked in the classroom, trying to run through forms and exercise away his problems. By the end of the week, Kenshin is feeling some regret for ever having gone to London in search of his friend, but when he takes in how rough Green has been taking the news of his missing son, he knows he has to do something to help.  Heading into the city the next morning, he manages to find a place to purchase the supplies he needs, and returning to their shared room, he hands over the small box wrapped in newspaper to Henry. Henry blinks, “...what is this for?” “I know things have been difficult.  And...I remembered this helped before, so I am..” he shakes his head - too many words.  “Just open it. It’s for you.” Kenshin sits beside Henry. After a moment Henry tears open the parcel, and then slowly opens it to reveal a set of paints and brushes. “I couldn’t find any watercolors...Sorry.  I mean - I know I’m not as good at comforting you as you were..” Kenshin’s self recriminating murmuring is cut off by Henry’s arms around him.  “Thank you. I know I’m not good company right now. But this means a lot. Thank you.”  
United Kingdom support of Pacific Fleet,  Coastwatch station, April 21, 1945
 How had he been convinced to volunteer for this?  Oh yeah, it was Green. Kenshin drank some burnt coffee, grimaced visibly at the taste, and then took another swig.  Only another hour to go of this shift, and they could pass this station off to Andre. Somehow, they had ended up on this awful assignment, pretty much in the middle of nowhere on this island besides one American and one Kiwi radio operator and the occasional supply personnel, relaying information on Japanese movements in the area.  He listened to the radio with half his attention and lifted the binoculars again. Just birds… Other than the six Japanese planes yesterday and the submarine a week ago, it had been suspiciously quiet of anything worth reporting.  The operation must be going well. He misses teaching. It was less irritating. And boring. There are only so many ways you can run around an island.  And he misses Mochi. Williams better be taking good care of her.  Beside him, the American man sneezed. Kenshin hadn’t bothered to learn his name - Burns or Barns or something with a b. The only things that had come out of the idiot’s mouth were racist and sexist slurs. Directed mostly towards Kenshin himself. If he had his Sakabatou on this miserable island… but no. Kenshin was, outwardly, far more patient than that. He’d smiled and given the man a serving of his own medicine; not that the idiot gaikokújin had been intelligent enough to realize the rurouni had implied he lacked skill in bed, among other things. That would require a brain. Kenshin looked at his cup, startled at his crass thoughts and actions in the past few days. Was it the coffee or bad weather? Either way, he wasn’t proud of them...but he probably wouldn’t apologize. At least he didn’t still get this type of thing from most of the British troops he had worked with anymore.  Now that it was just him, Green and the two others stuck on this island..well, only Green was British. He was Japanese, the other was an American, and there was a kind Frenchman from New Zealand that somehow made delicious food out of the tasteless MREs.So technically, three from British or Commonwealth forces and one American.  Hopefully the replacements would be here to take over the station soon. It was only supposed to have been a stopgap assignment. You would think after his support of intelligence operations for the British and his assistance with special assignments in Egypt and India, he would have picked going back to the school- but no, he just had to follow Green around and make sure he didn’t get himself shot. If not for Green, who had requested he volunteer so the Englishman would have some well-known company, Kenshin wouldn’t be on this desolate rock in the middle of the ocean. And he was planning to hold it over the man’s head for the rest of this awful secret posting.   Kenshin looked to the side when Andre, the French-New Zealander, walked in from the squeaky doorway to the small ‘kitchen,’ which was really just a metal table and two long benches bolted to the ground in a dark room with small “windows” (really just openings in the wall) and an old stove. The faint sound of Tokyo Rose cut out as the door swung shut again. Andre gave him a jokingly flirty wink, making Kenshin chuckle and flash him a smile. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.  “Is the barrel back up?” Andre nodded, “Oui, It is wedged in pretty well, so hopefully it will not come loose again.” They had rigged a set of barrels to catch rainwater, and used tubing to run water into the “window” in the kitchen.  A clamp prevented water from running all the time and emptying the barrel, but it was fairly simple to unclamp the end of the tubing and get some water to cook or wash things with. Well, as long as they had rain.  Bathing was done primarily outside in the inlet from the sea. Besides the “kitchen” they just had the room with the radio equipment and cots.  If they weren't on duty, most of the time they were outside, in Kenshin’s case trying to keep up on forms and stay fit.  Sometimes they would play cards in the kitchen and listen to the other radio, or sleep. Kenshin had also managed to make himself a bokken, to keep up his practice.  Green had a wide range of tiny figurines carved from local wood, which he said he could trade or keep to give his family when he returned to London. The only redeeming factor of the American (in Kenshin’s mind at least) was he was a decent fisherman, and frequently they had fresh fish to supplement their supplies. The last hour of his shift passed quickly, and Kenshin gratefully handed his radio off to Andre, heading into the kitchen to dump out the last of his coffee.  It was actually sunny and warm today. Stripping as much of his uniform as he could get away with, Kenshin headed down the faint path to small inlet near the shoreline.  Unsurprisingly, Henry was there, floating around on his stomach on his tethered “raft” and reading a book. The raft had been a joint effort of Henry and Andre. Both seemed obsessed with swimming. Deciding to have a little fun, Kenshin darted silently into the undergrowth beside the path, and circled around out of the view of Green. The trees and plants grew almost all the way to the waterline.  Carefully shifting over the rocks and sand and into the water, he slipped underneath and swam over to the raft. At the last moment, while springing out of the water “Raarrrgh!” Kenshin yelled. Flailing, Green dropped his book and rolled into the water with a splash.  Grabbing a hold of the side of the raft closest to him Kenshin tried to keep above water while laughing so hard it was difficult to breathe.  Henry popped back up to the surface at about the same time with a gasp and a splash back at Kenshin “You could have drowned me!! He spluttered, half amused and half angry.   “My book!” He quickly pulled himself back up onto the flat surface and examined it for water damage. “Kenshin!” he glared at the still laughing man, the corner of his mouth twitching a bit “You know I can’t replace this with another one!” Kenshin pulled himself up beside Henry and flopped onto his back while Henry grumbled and held on to the rocking raft. Enjoying the sunshine and trying to catch his breath, Kenshin continued, “Ah...but you have read it already, yes?”  He grinned saucily, shifting up onto his side and elbow and resting his head on one hand, his eyes were half-lidded against the sunshine and his too long for regulation hair dripping. Green just pushed him back over and into the water.

United Kingdom support of Pacific Fleet,  coastwatch station, May 8th, 1945
 The days continued to get warmer, interspersed by episodes of torrential rain.  One such rainy day Andre bursts into the radio room from the kitchen, fairly bursting at the seams “‘The Germans ‘as been defeated!!  They ‘ave declared victory in Europe!” After a moment of stunned silence Brown jumped up “Whoopee!! We’ll get to go home!” almost simultaneously to Green’s “Hazzah!!”   Kenshin blinks a few times and smiles wryly “We should celebrate the victory of our allies, but that does not mean the war here is over.” Green shot him a glance and sank back into his cot, “Bugger- well...true.” He grimaced, “But hopefully our replacements will still be arriving soon.  Less to send to Europe - so we should get more support here?” Andre just frowned at them, “No, you must cheer up - At least there is an end in sight!” Broom snorted, drawing their attention back to him, “I don’t know about all of you, but I think we deserve to drink some rations.” He pointed to the corner where they had been hoarding the rum and beer. “Our side wins Europe - that's the war half over at least, right?  Let’s celebrate!” Andre props open the kitchen door with a chair and turns the radio up so they can hear it clearly.  Henry looks at Kenshin, as he stands and stretches, “We should signal for confirmation, don’t you think?  It could be some ploy to get us to let down our guard.” Kenshin grins, cocking his head “Ah, but at least we would have some fun before we die, yes? Green smirks and smacks him on the shoulder as he walks by and then out the front door of the shelter.  His voice calls back faintly through the open door and over the sound of the radio from the other room, “I’m not fishing or cleaning them!” Chuckling, Kenshin turns back to the radio and waves one had in Andre and Brand’s direction “I’ll take this shift and radio it in.  You guys sort out who will fish and cook.” Eyeing Brook with a challenge, Andre asks, “Paper scissors rock?” The two men get into a game of flashing hands, punctuated by cheers and groans as one or the other wins a round.   Kenshin has already turned to the telegraph, and is tapping out his inquiry to confirm the announcement from the radio.   Andre victoriously went out to fish, and Banri headed into the kitchen to dig through ration packs.  Confirmation arrived shortly, and so that evening, when the weather had finally cleared a bit, they all met up at the beach, taking some down time.  Kenshin had helped haul some of the rum down and set it in a rock pool to cool. Burns was poking impatiently at the fish, and Andre had made something with beans.  Settling in around the low fire in their cove as the food finished up, Kenshin passed out bottles of rum they’d been saving and bowls of beans and they toasted Victory in Europe!   A few drinks in, and the fish were done.  Baker tried to pass it out to everyone and semi successfully avoided dropping any of it into the fire.  Andre burst out laughing when Green tried to take a bite straight off of his fish, burning his mouth and swearing.  Everyone else started laughing when Andre fell off his log. Andre pulled himself back up, blushing and still laughing.  He almost slid off the log again when he tried to sit down without looking.   Henry snorted, “Alllright...all of you.  I am going….to go be the responsssible one.  Radio duty….Enjoy food,” he toasted them. He wandered up the path toward the shelter, still holding his fish on a stick and his mostly empty bottle of rum. Kenshin grinned and watched him go, but it wasn’t long before Barber was on his nerves again, so he excused himself and staggered his own way back up to the cots, singing old drinking songs under his breath. Green waved at him as he entered with his half-remaining fish, and Kenshin collapsed onto his cot, quickly falling asleep.

He was awakened suddenly, and for a moment thought he was back in the war...the original one.  He could hear someone screaming a challenge in Japanese and the cling of metal against something hard.  Long habit had him rolling from his bed and picking up his bokken, his mind still a bit foggy from drinking after so long sober.  He swore realizing that this was not his sword but just the practice blade he had with him. Andre was shouting something outside and he heard a gunshot as Green ran out with his rifle. Kenshin flipped himself forward through the window, rather than going through the door, the only exit to the building and potentially getting shot as he went out.  Landing in a low crouch with one hand down in front of him and the sword held out to his side he tried to take stock of the situation. Andre was fighting hand to hand with one soldier - probably Japanese.  Two still forms were on the ground, Green was aiming his rifle into the trees and partially crouched for cover.  Another shot rang out, not from Green, and Kenshin spun around in time to see Bruce get shot in the chest and stagger back, dropping his own gun to the ground. Kenshin sprang forward, striking the gunman across the throat with the wooden blade, just enough force to put him down, unable to breathe.  He continued his path, thrusting his sword into the solar plexus of one soldier, and twirled aside, avoiding a shot from the second man coming out of the treeline.  He kicked sand up into his face, and and as the man spluttered, Kenshin slid into a half crouch and swept him to the ground with his leg. With the stranger now on the ground, it doesn’t take much to knock him out. Unfortunately, the man who had been hit in the solar plexus had had time to recover, and Kenshin felt a bullet graze the side of his head about the same time as the shot rang out, momentarily deafening him. He hissed, stumbling slightly to the side as he started to turn back to his attacker.  His ears recovered from their ringing in time for him to hear another shot, this one from the direction Green had been in, and the thump of a body hitting the ground behind him. Andre finally took down his attacker, and Kenshin had just enough time to make note of those remaining.  His eyes widened, and he tried to call out a warning to Green - when the flash of a gun from the trees and a splatter of blood where Henry’s knee had been shifted everything into slow motion.   Growling his defiance and anger, Kenshin threw his bokken across the small clearing end over end -  striking the gunman in the face, who fell backward to the ground. Kenshin was already running forward after his blade when he realized he had thrown his only weapon, and he slowed to scoop one of the discarded guns off the ground, only to be suddenly stabbed in the back from one of the soldiers he had though already down. Crying out and with a very painful twist, Kenshin wrenched the knife out of the man’s hands with his shoulder.  Still grasping the gun he had retrieved, he attempted to bring it up to bear - only to watch in surprise as the man was suddenly yanked away by a thick grey rope of some kind. Green swearing more profusely then he ever had caused Kenshin’s attention to waiver.  Turning quickly to make sure his friend was not under further attack, he hissed at the pull of the blade still buried in his shoulder and staggered over.  Green was clutching at his bloody leg and rolling around in pain where he had fallen. Kenshin quickly sank to his knees and put pressure on the leg above the wound.  “Andre!” he yelled, trying to get some help, but the man who ran up wasn’t Andre - it was the Japanese not-instructor who had fallen on him on the ship. Kenshin started to scramble up to defend when the man dropped to his knees and began to wrap a tourniquet around Henry’s leg.   Kenshin sank back down and helped hold him still and calm him down.  “Henry..you’re going to be fine! We’ve got you Henry. You did it, they’re all gone…”   Henry growled back, his teeth gritting together “Araahahhgh, stupid ….ahh...Almost shot you.”   The black haired man looked up at Kenshin with dark eyes through his yellow goggles, “I’ve got him, assess the others - critical wounds?” Kenshin had looked up to find Andre when the man in question dropped down beside him, holding his arm limp at his side. The other hand holding a pistol that he hadn’t had before. “That’s all of them.  Empty boat on the coastline near the bonfire.” Kenshin frowned, eyes narrowing, “What about the American.” “Can’t help those already dead.” Andre replied flatly, then frowned at Aizawa, “Who’s this?” “Someone want to grab me additional bandages?” was the man’s accented reply as he was still doing first aid on Henry’s knee, injecting what was probably Morphine into the thigh above the wound.  Henry somewhat relaxed and groaned softly. “A friend.” Kenshin momentarily met the not-instructor’s eyes, still holding Green’s leg still and trying to ignore the throbbing in his shoulder and the warmth running down his arm.  He felt the world tilt a bit as the adrenaline began to ebb. He staggered to his feet intending to collect a first aid kit, a bit dizzy, only to have the mystery man swear. Andre cried out “Himura!” as the world faded into black. ------ END OF PART 1 - INTERMISSION.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

September 21, 1945, London, England
 Kenshin was cold; although, he was sure that was just because he was a small, Japanese man outside on a drizzly London morning. He should have borrowed a coat. He thought briefly of escaping the unpleasant weather and heading inside the hospital, but he’d escaped and didn’t feel like risking capture once again. The nurses may seem nice, but they hid steely demons behind bedside manner, smiles, and needles. He shivered, and not because of the cold. So much had happened in the last few months.  In the last month it seemed even more. Everything he had known had potentially come to an end.  It was hard to take it all in. Absently, Kenshin watched the hospital entrance, pulling his uniform coat a bit tighter and trying ignore the the wind.  A nurse stood beside the door, talking to someone in an Army uniform and smoking a cigarette. She had black hair. Actually, she looked a bit like the nurse he had met on the hospital ship.  Betty. He had awakened disoriented and sure he needed to grab more bandages.  She had pushed him back on the bed and told him to be still. He had evidently been asleep for a day and a half and was healing well. It wasn’t until he calmed down that she left to let someone else know he was awake.  The doctor would be by in a few to take his stitches out. First a Commander Bennett had come in and questioned him about his memory of the events of the attack - he had explained what he knew of what happened, the Japanese attacking after he had gone to sleep on the night of the celebration, Green on radio duty.  He reported seeing Brown get shot (he really hoped his real name was Brown); Green take a shot to the knee, and that he had been stabbed at some point. He mentioned seeing the mystery friend come again to their aid, Andre saying something about a bonfire, and blacking out.   He hadn’t thought he had been that injured.  Bennett dove a bit more into what Kenshin knew about the bonfire, who the Friend was, what he looked like, how had he gotten onto the island, when Kenshin had seen him before.  Still a bit foggy, Kenshin answered as well as he could. He added his suspicion that the man who aided them may be working for military intelligence. After a while, the man left, and Betty came back inside with a doctor who said he would remove the stiches. He learned from her that he was on an American hospital ship, and Green was also on board, just a few curtains over, but still sleeping most of the time.  He had undergone surgery for his knee, but still had the possibility of losing the leg, depending on how well it healed and if he ended up with any infection…but he wouldn’t find that out until later.   After a brief examination of his injuries, she wrote some stuff on a clipboard and stepped back out.  She had let him know as she left that she thought he could be moved into the main bunks. He shifted and could feel that his back and shoulder twinged only a little, so that was probably almost completely healed.  He could see a few new scars, but otherwise, he was back to normal. How long had he been out again? And where was his shirt? Perhaps that was why it was on is mind again.  He was cold. He realized he was staring at the nurse when she smiled and waved.  Oro! He quickly looked away. And now he looked like a flustered teenager. A few hours later on the ship he had freshly removed stitches and had been assigned a temporary bunk in a room with some other British military personnel.  He was surprised to discover that his bag and wooden case had been collected by someone (Andre maybe?) and had made it onto the ship with him. He had spent the next few weeks mostly sitting by Green’s side, and helping the nurses get things they couldn't reach?  Odd how many supplies were shoved into cabinets above their heads. Green complained a lot when he was awake, and Kenshin read him letters and books and talked to him in his smattering of bad French and Japanese.  Andre had been stationed back with their replacements on the miserable island. The American...B...something? Hadn’t made it. Kenshin should have made more of an effort to learn his real name.  Kaoru would have been disappointed with him, although Sanoske would probably laugh. From what he could tell, their rescuer had not been found on the island, and Green was absolutely certain he had faded right in front of his eyes into nothing.  Kenshin was skeptical. Probably morphine hallucinations or something. After a while on board and transfer to another ship, they were back in London.  Kenshin had been poked and prodded a bit since the medical staff were amazed he had healed so quickly, but he managed to convince them his injuries must not have been as bad as they had originally reported.  ‘That. Supid. Yellow. Pouch.’   Years and years later and he was pretty sure many things could be blamed on eating the unknown.   This past month, the country of his birth had been bombed, killing so many it was unfathomable.  ‘ I am still alive and yet so many others have died .’  Was the damage as bad there as London had been, as it still was?  It must have been worse, so many more had lost their lives with just two bombs.  Two thriving cities completely leveled by the Americans. People had celebrated Victory over Japan...but he did not feel much like celebrating. He had managed to force himself out to the edge of the city after a week of drinking himself insensible, and had run out into a copse of trees and had sat until sunset, trying to regain his sense of self.   He could not allow himself to fall apart over this.  There were people here who still needed...well at least wanted him around. His mind shied from the road his thoughts were on, and his eyes returned to the hospital entrance and the present moment. The nurse must have gone back indoors. There are however things worth celebrating.  Green had been taken to the hospital here for additional surgery and to recover, and today...today he should be getting out - which was how Kenshin found himself sitting outside in the almost rain.  Waiting. Perhaps he should go find him after all.  The wind which had originally been almost pleasant, was slowly causing the drizzle to soak through his clothes. It was making it difficult to enjoy being outside. Just as he was about to give up, A man was wheeled out of the hospital doors by a different nurse, and Kenshin stood, meeting Henry’s eyes.  “Well old man,” he smiled as he walked up to them, “seems they let you go after all.” Henry smirked, “Old? You’re at least as old as me, Kenshin.”  He waved the nurse off, explaining that Kenshin would get him where he needed to go.  Kenshin laughed and promised to keep him out of trouble. Having returned to London and the war now being officially over, it was mostly cleanup and re-building to be done, including Henry’s house.   Henry was on medical leave from the Navy, but Kenshin had been provided some letters of commendation and discharged, along with being provided a recommendation to Oxford of his teaching skills.  Surprisingly, since his identity papers naming him a British citizen had been “lost” in the war, Maxwell had provided him with a new “copy” proclaiming he was born overseas to british parents in 1921.  Kenshin had snorted at that, but had taken them anyway. Easier than trying to explain the contents of his Japanese papers. Kenshin had been surprised to discover that Henry’s family had quite a bit of money, and so the Greens had decided to build closer to this Boar Hill town where his wife’s sister had a home.  His wife and younger children would stay in the country until the house had been completed and they could move in. As Kenshin began pushing Henry toward the station, he told him about his opportunity.  “So, I have been offered a teaching position.” Henry looked up at him “Where at?  English? Japanese?” Kenshin’s lips quirked in a wry smile, “Well, history apparently.  Perhaps Japanese culture and language in time. Maxwell from the India missions pulled in a favor to get me placed with a university.” Henry snorted and re-adjusted the cane on his lap, “Well you saved his life in out there, along with most of his men, he owes you a million favors.” Kenshin simply shrugged and stayed silent. “First, we should celebrate!  You will be a teacher, and I’ll hopefully be out of this chair in a few months!”   “Yes,” Kenshin said dryly, “I get more behind desks, and you’ll live the cushy life up in Boar Hill.” Henry laughed.  
Oxford, England   - March 18, 1946
 Kenshin was wiping the board down after one of his lectures when Green burst into the room past the last of his exiting students, hobbling faster than he should be on his cane.  “Kenny! Peter is alive!!” He grabbed Kenshin’s arms and started dancing around in a limping circle of happiness, “I got a letter, he’s coming home Kenshin, he’s coming home!” Kenshin beamed, “That’s great news! When are you expecting him home? We can take him out for drinks.” Green seemed delighted by the idea, and waved his wife over as she, far more sedately, Paul trailing behind her and clinging to one hand, strode through the classroom door. “Oh, any day now,” he said, “Helen has the letter, look here..” “Hello again Kenny.” Helen smiled at the impatient shifting of her husband, and handed the letter to Henry before allowing her youngest son to wander over to draw with chalk on the board. Kenshin had almost gotten used to Henry calling him by that name, but with anyone else it was still a bit uncomfortable. “Helen!  Good news all around?” Kenshin reached out for the letter that Henry now had.  Skimming it over, he flashed a bright grin at them both “Excellent news! Will he fully recover?  Did they say?” Helen nodded, “We are told his hearing has suffered, but he should otherwise fully recover,” she reached out and re-claimed the letter, pointing out the relevant passage, “Seems he had some memory loss for a while, but we are glad to get him back!” By this point Paul had been lifted onto his father's shoulders to reach higher on the chalkboard.  Henry was attempting to hold his son up and still stabilize himself with the cane, and they were making a complete mess of the board Kenshin had just cleaned.  Kenshin watched them and sighed. Helen chuckled, “Alright boys, time to go. Mr. Himura is busy preparing for his next lecture!” “Thank you!”  he mouthed silently to Helen.  She smiled and nodded and ushered the complaining boys out the door. Eyeing the new drawing and then the clock, Kenshin got back to wiping the board down.  If he hurried, he would still have time to grab tea before the next group came in.  
Boars Hill, England   - December 25, 1948
 Kenshin sat as close to the fire as he possibly could.  He still didn't like winter, although he enjoyed the holiday season with all the gatherings.  Green’s two younger boys, James and Paul, were impatiently poking at parcels under the tree, and Helen was yelling out the back door for Henry to “Leave it and come inside before you catch your death!” Kenshin could hear a garbled response from outside, and then Henry came in the back door trailing snow and carrying a bunch of wood.  “...better now then later.” Henry finished whatever he had been saying. He carried the wood inside, leaving wet footprints from the door, through the kitchen and into the living area; then dropping them on the rest of the wood near the fireplace.  His steps were accompanied by his wife scolding him for staying outside too long and traipsing muddy snow over her clean floor. Kenshin just stood up and grabbed a cloth, mopping it up while Henry joked and Helen scolded. Helen turned around and started scolding him for cleaning when he was a guest, and snagged the cloth from him, continuing back into the kitchen.  Kenshin just blinked and looked at Henry, who shrugged and grinned. Someone interrupted their almost conversation when the front bell pull rang and Paul ran over into the entry to answer the door.  “It’s just Peter and some Lady,” he yelled over his shoulder. Peter laughed and came in the door, taking off his coat and handing it to his brother, a fashionable brunette haired woman at his side.  Peter then turned to help her with her coat, and they both came into the living room. Kenshin walked back over to sit in the chair closest to the fireplace while Henry walked over to greet them, and Helen came out of the Kitchen to see who it was.   “Peter!  And who is this?  When you said you would be bringing a guest, you didn’t say it would be someone so lovely.” Helen took the woman’s extended hand and Anna blushed, flicking her eyes to Peter. “Well Mum, this is Anna.  My fiancé.” He beamed at Anna who smiled back at him, and then he laughed at the stunned expression on his mother’s face.  “Mum...you ok Mum?” Helen broke out of her momentary shock and exclaimed, “Fiancé??  Peter! You didn’t...Anna! So good to meet you! I must look a fright! Come come, you can help me finish up in the Kitchen and we can get to know each other.” Anna just nodded shyly and Peter smiled to her reassuringly as she was escorted into the kitchen with an endless stream of commentary from Helen.                                                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The meal was excellent, and after all the introductions were out of the way, it was announced that gifts would now be exchanged.  Paul scrambled out to the tree, James hurried and tried to look like he wasn’t just as interested as his younger brother, and the adults followed more leisurely.   Kenshin claimed a seat right in front of the fire, on the floor.  Henry just chuckled at him and sat in the chair Kenshin usually sat in.   Anna and Helen were already fast friends, and sat chatting about wedding plans while Peter handed out gifts to his brothers. Peter ended up with a new sweater.  His fiance had already been given a pearl bracelet that Helen had insisted on gifting to her.  And Kenshin had a new Jacket. It seems that Henry still didn’t think he could reliably dress himself.   Henry got some new paint brushes and another sweater, Helen got a broach and a new hat. Paul and James also got sweaters and pocket-knives.   “Paul, your knife belonged to your namesake before he died, my brother.  James, your knife was mine during the first war. Both of you take care of them, and they’ll work well for you.”   Kenshin went to grab the last two boxes and handed them over to the younger boys himself, since they were from him.  Impatiently Paul jumped up in front of James, who shoved him a little and stood, again like a typical teenager trying to look like he wasn’t that interested.  Handing them each one long rectangular box, Kenshin went and sat again near the fire. The boys quickly pulled the string loose and opened the boxes, each pulling out a handmade bokken, similar to the one Kenshin had made himself on the island. “Bully!” exclaimed Paul with an immediate “Language!” from Helen.   “Sorry, Mum.” He muttered, swinging it around. James simply gazed at it like it was made of gold. “What are they?” Peter asked, leaning forward in his seat. “Wooden swords?” “Bokken,” Kenshin said, smiling, “Practice swords. I had my first actual sword when I was a bit younger than Paul, six I believe, but I had thought dear Helen would no longer allow me in the house and I would miss her cooking.” Henry laughed boisterously, and Helen reached down to smack Kenshin’s head like an unruly child. “Practice swords?” Paul breathed in awe. “Does that mean you’ll teach us, Uncle Kenshin?” “Teach us?” James looked like he wanted to scoff, but refrained for fear of his mother’s wrath. “Uncle is a history teacher, Paul.” Kenshin laughed, “I’ve been a swordsman far longer than a teacher.” There was a choking sound that emerged from his laughter, “Ah, my master would sooner imagine me a potter.” “He taught me Japanese you know,” Henry told them again for the hundredth time, “And I used to watch him practice, it was rather scary.” “We know!” exclaimed Paul, obviously mimicking James’s earlier tone, rolling his eyes a bit. “And besides, Uncle Kenshin isn’t scary.” Kenshin nearly spit out his drink, briefly thinking of how the many who knew him as Battousai would react to that. “Ah, I was, once.” He laughed it off, thinking Kaoru would have been pleased to hear Paul defend him.   Kenshin showed both of them some basic stances and a simple strike, and sent them bundled up out into the yard to hit each other through their many layers. Helen stole Anna again to clean up after the meal, and Henry poured the three remaining men a brandy and shuffled them off to the study, being the only room in the house that Helen would let him smoke. “Were you really only six when you learned the sword?”  Henry asked as he sat and lit himself a cigarette. Kenshin wrinkled his nose at the smell and nodded. Peter took his drink and sat with his good ear toward them both so he could better participate in the conversation. “Around there,” he waved a hand, “I don’t know exactly how old, but Sensei assumed that’s how old I was.” “Wait, Dad -”, mused Peter, “If Kenshin is the one who taught you Japanese, wasn’t that around...11 or 12 years before the start of the war?  I mean, this war. After the first one?” Henry nodded, and then frowned. “It is no fair how young you look, Kenny,” he grumbled. Kenshin laughed and grinned at his friend, “Ah well, you know -” “‘I’m Asian,’ yes, so you keep saying.” Interjected Henry, seeming put upon. “But how old are you really?   Saito said you had been at the shrine for at least a decade before I got there.” Peter looked surprised, “A decade? What were you, ten?” “Oro, no.  When I was 10 I was fighting in the first war.” Kenshin recalled, “No, I was twelve.” he corrected himself, lifting a finger into the air. Henry and Peter looked incredulously at each other.  “Twelve?”  Henry looked appalled, “In the First War?” Remembering the Englishman's stories of trenches and gas and screams in the night; dragged out of him over numerous bottles of sake and a lot of soba and udon, Kenshin also looked appalled. “Oro! No, not the World War,” Kenshin shook his head, “I skipped that one. My first war, the Revolution.” “You skipped that one?” Henry asked blankly as Peter exclaimed, “The Colonist Insurrection?!” Kenshin laughed, and Paul looked embarrassed. “Not the Insurrection,” Kenshin giggled, “I’m not that old.” Paul looked relieved, but then Kenshin continued. “The Meiji Restoration, in the Bakumatsu.” It was Henry, now, who looked baffled. “‘The End...of the Military?” He shook his head, “I can’t be translating that right.” Kenshin patted his friend’s arm, “No you are.” Kenshin’s professor persona kicked in, “The Bakkumatsu is the force who fought on the side of the Emperor toward restoration of the Empire, against the Shogunate.  Many young swordsman were part of their forces, not just myself. I fought for them for two years before the war and four years during it as Hitokiri, before changing to the sakabatou.” He then realized that he had perhaps said more than he had intended. This brandy... It was Henry’s turn to nearly spit out his drink. “Hitokiri?  Manslayer?” Kenshin flinched. “Please Henry, I am not that man, anymore.” He lifted his cup again, perhaps inadvisably given his history of getting stabbed while drunk, and huffed into it. “You act like you don’t know me better than even Sensei did.” “Wait, wait.”  Peter lifted a hand, still trying to decipher the conversation interspersed with random Japanese words.  “Wait.” He pointed at Kenshin “Uncle Kenshin.” “Yes.” “You fought in a war, as an...assassin?  Am I gathering that correctly?” “Oro, yes,” Kenshin looked abashed, “I was young and perhaps stupid. The cause was worthwhile, but my commanders’ preferred methods...” “You can’t be that old.  Wasn’t the Meiji restoration in the 1860s?” “I am As- “ Kenshin started “Don’t say Asian, Uncle Kenny!“ “I was very young,”  he said instead, standing for a moment and refilling his brandy. Henry looked like his world was crumbling around him, “How...how young, exactly?” Kenshin hummed, “Well, the war started when I was...twelve? I became a hitokiri around fourteen, and I met my wife a year a later when she was sent to kill me,” he paused, considering. “Oro, I do not think that is a normal way to meet your wife.” Peter looked green, most likely thinking of his own fiancé. Henry hesitantly waved for him to continue. Kenshin obliged with, “Then we got married, and she died when..oro, I was sixteen? My memory is not perfect…” He shook his head, “I stopped fighting around two years later, and began wandering. The war ended when I was about eight-teen?” “Eighteen.” Henry said flatly. “In the eighteen sixties.” “How old were you, Father dearest?” Peter asked with a smirk. Henry leveled his son with the stink-eye. “How old do you think I am?” The Englishman shook his head, and refilled his glass with a liberal amount of brandy. “I think my parents hadn’t even met at that point.” Peter turned skeptically to his Uncle, “This is you, right?  Not your grandfather or something?” “Yes,” Kenshin said, deadpan, “I think I would remember not being in the Restoration.” Blinking, Peter continued, “So - ah, you are...ancient.  Wait - that was the first war?” Kenshin nodded, perplexed, “Yes? I fought in the Sino-Japanese wars - both of them.  You have sat in on some of my lectures, I am sure you remember.” “Those were - ?” Peter looked at his father, who looked at his brandy like it held the secrets of the universe. “The eighteen nineties,” he answered faintly. “In my forties,” Kenshin confirmed, and then looked confused, “that can’t be right..” Deciding that his mind must be faulty, he started counting on his fingers in Japanese. Both men watched him still a bit disbelieving, when he suddenly announced a bit too loud comparative to the rest of the conversation, “Damn Yellow Pouch!” Both of the other men startled. “...yellow pouch?” Peter was looking a lot like his father at this point. “Yellow Pouch,” Kenshin confirmed, and the capital letters were clear. “Banilla.” It was said like a curse. “Hmm, the one you carried around in your case?”  Henry asked. “Yes.” Kenshin confirmed.  “I was badly injured in a fight…” he glanced at his glass, “Well, after drinking a good deal.  When I awakened, my wounds had been tended to, and the pouch was there - filled with a too-sweet food.” He shook his head, almost talking to himself, “I am unsure if it really is responsible, but it seems I have always healed very quickly since then.” “So….Ambrosia?” Peter coughed, laughing a bit. Kenshin frowned at his nephew, still somewhat in professor mode, “Wrong culture.” Downing the last of his current glass of brandy, Henry spoke up, “You were in your 70’s when we met?” “Oro, If my math is correct,” Kenshin looked mildly upset. “I’m old .” “A right geezer,” Peter muttered. His father swatted him. “I don’t care how old you are.  I am definitely older.” Henry declared. “Well, I am Asian.  Besides.  My new papers say I am only twenty-seven!” Peter snorted.  “My Uncle can’t be my age!” Henry smacked the back of Peter’s head again.

Oxford, England, St. Leonard’s Church,  Spring 1998
 The day was warm in the sunlight, even this early in the morning. Kenshin took in a deep breath, appreciating the smell of morning dew and the newly bloomed flowers around him. As he let it out in an exaggerated manner, he chuckled. “Ah, it’s beautiful today, Henry.” A glance to the side where his friend rested, but no reply. “I think even my lazier students might be out and about today.” He sat down on a wooden bench, careful to avoid the remaining wet spot from yesterday’s rainy spell. He was acting old now, wasn’t he? Wasn’t this what old people did? Sit in the sun, talk to old friends. He had enjoyed days like this long before now; finding simple pleasures had been one of the highlights of his life, especially after the Bakumatsu and the following years of wandering. Now, in the quiet churchyard not far from Boars Hill, Kenshin sat beside the resting place of Henry and his wife, and basked in the early morning sunshine. “You’re turning into a right proper Englishman, Uncle.” Kenshin turned to lay eyes on an old man, who walked up to his bench. It was Paul, Henry’s youngest son, and the only one of his siblings to master Kendo. “Talking to Dad, again?” “Yes,” Kenshin smiled at his ‘nephew’. “I feel like I need to update him sometimes, but this will likely be my last visit for a while.” He nodded at the gravestones of Paul’s parents, which were side-by-side. “Thinking of taking that job at the private school? The one by Westminster?” Paul asked. Kenshin quickly tried to wipe the remaining water off the bench and slid over to make room, and Paul lowered himself slowly, sitting beside him with a grunt. “You’d be paid less, and Oxford has already said you’re welcome to stay.” “Oro,” Kenshin patted his nephew’s leg, “I think I’ll come back to Oxford in a while, but for now, I’d like to deal with stuck up children that are actually children.” Paul chuckled. Carefully, he handed the large manilla envelope he’d been carrying over to Kenshin. “That’s the new birth certificate and such,” Paul said, “I had our friend in the Offices make up a national insurance number card and an application for dual citizenship. In case you want to put it through.” The rurouni thought for a moment, but finally replied, “I don’t know that I’ll go back to Japan anytime soon, but I’ll consider it.” He looked at his nephew, who seemed, for a moment, just as energetic as he did when he was ten. “Any news from your grandkids? I visited Peter’s last week, to celebrate Henry’s graduation.” “They want you to take them to the park again.” Paul grumped good-naturedly, “Apparently their actual grandpa isn’t as fun as Uncle Kenny.” Kenshin laughed at the old man, who shoved him lightly. “Maybe next week,” Kenshin said. “I have an interview!”

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MI5 Offices, Thames House, London, United Kingdom, Summer 2025
 Arthur Hornsby sat at his assigned desk and tried to look busy.  Everyone had been on edge the last few days, and he wasn’t sure why.  He was definitely feeling it in the air. Even his assigned senior agent was more on edge then usual.   Carol had even called in sick today - she hadn’t had a sick day in 12 years.  Looking up from his very repetitive and pointless spreadsheet he had invented that morning, he was immediately afraid of the very pleased look on Agent Blythe’s face. “Hornsby!”  Blythe cheerfully sauntered over to Hornsby’s desk.  “I have an assignment for you!” “An assignment?  But..my clearance hasn’t come through yet.” Arthur eyed the large file - an actual physical file with a folder and yellowed papers.  It had to be at least 800 pages of information, stamped multiple times with “Classified” and “Sensitive Information” and overlapping dates spanning over a hundred years.  “Action: Evergreen” in slightly faded typed letters across the top. The file was tied shut with string. Fardling Actual String. He started to panic. Why wasn’t this in digital format? The file was dumped in front of his work-screen with a loud, dusty Thunk . “Oh, don’t worry about that.  I took care of it - you have permission to handle this case.” Blythe looked positively gleeful as he tapped the large file with his index finger, emphasizing his words.  “I would suggest that you get started reading the highlights. - You’ll need to check with medical for the equipment you’ll need.” Arthur Hornsby blinked at the gigantic file. “...but...Where do I start?” “Not with the bodycount, I’d suggest ignoring that bit!”  Agent Blythe offered as he walked out of the office, “Oh, and don’t forget an offering!” “....medical..,” Arthur eyed the file warily, “..an offering?” With obvious trepidation, and no small amount of resignation, Arthur untied the string, and carefully opened the cover, reading the summary sheet which appeared to have been done at some point on an actual typewriter - this thing was old - with a few changes typed or handwritten in later: --Action Evergreen.    Open Date: May 7th, 1944.       Close Date: NA            Status: Open.  Threat Level: Unknown, Assumed Catastrophic.        Risk Level: Unknown High      Subject:  Himura, Kenshin  Height: 5’ 2”.    Weight: 48 kg (106 lbs) (last measured 1945)        Hair Colour: Red.     Eyes: Violet      Build: Slight/Medium/FitIdentifying Marks: Cross Scar(L)face. Scar right shoulder, scar lower left side, additional -see attached sheet.Age: Unknown.  Appears about 25-35.Alias: Kenny, Kenneth, Ken, Professor Himura, Professor Green, Battousai (see additional sheet)Known Location: Oxford, England; Boars Hill, England.  See Attached.Known Associates (dates of association): Green, Henry (1929-1968); Green, Helen (1946-1963), Green, Paul (1946 - NA); Green, Peter (1946 - 1999); Green, Anna (1949 - 1998), Green, James (1946 - 2011); See attached for additional Greens, et al.Known Occupations: Secondary School Teacher, childcare provider, Martial arts instructor, Professor(post-secondary), Doctor of History, Doctor of Linguistics.Known Former Occupations: Navy Special Officer - Instructor (to 1945).     Special Operations Associated, see operations list/ additional dates.Suspected Former Occupations: “Battousai”, Assassin, Martial Artist, Ishinshishi Swordsman.
See page 89 for additional Special Operations list.
Operative Countries/loyalties: Allied operations for WW2. Possible Japanese citizenship (Pre WW2).Citizen: YesKnown Kill Count: 643 652 658Summary: Possible Alien/ God/ Immortal.  Caution Advised. Bring offering upon contact (cake suggested: Chocolate no frosting)-- His eyes couldn’t help but go immediately to the kill count. A kill count. Of six hundred fifty eight. Arthur felt the sudden and near irresistible urge to go cry over a bucket of sorbet and watch bad Bollywood dramas. Closing the folder for a moment he took some steadying breaths, and wondered again if he should have become a librarian instead.   Maybe Blythe still had that flask in his side drawer. No.  He could do this.  This was his assignment.  He was capable , damn it. Opening the folder again, he read the mission sheet that had been tucked inside as a coversheet. --       Mission Summary: June 4, 2025.     Action: Evergreen      Classification: S/C 2 Level 6        MI5 requests DNA sample from subject.  Please collect supplies for blood draw from medical, and         return sample at earliest convenience.  Mission completion required within 60 days. Post mission       debriefing required.  Voluntary subject participation preferred.       If subject will not allow blood draw, please use non-lethal means to collect at least one vile of alternate        DNA material.        Do not digitize, radio, phone, or send other electronic communications in regards to this Action.        If necessary, contact may be made with the appropriate “Green” See Action file for details. -- What had he gotten himself into….Alternate DNA material?  
Oxford, United Kingdom, Summer 2025, Kenshin’s Home
 “Uncle Kenshin? I’m heading out now!” Yelled Henry (the third) as he opened the front door to leave. He’d come in briefly to visit (and steal some food), and was likely heading back to campus housing. “Did you close the fridge, Henry?” Kenshin called back, but sighed as the door closed in the middle of his sentence. His electric bill shoots every time he sees that boy. So, just to check, he gets up from his comfortable chair in the study and walks down the hall to the kitchen, and lo and behold, the fridge remains open. He closes it, perhaps more aggressively than necessary, and frowns when he hears something fall inside. Kenshin sighs again. He doesn’t open the fridge again to check. Not moments later, the doorbell rings. Kenshin didn’t think Henry (the third) would be back so soon, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else today...unless it was another one of the children. Then he was expecting someone, and he also wasn’t home. Yesterday they’d eaten all his good biscuits. He went to the door, stepping over a toy little two year old Fiona had left on his carpet, and looked through the peephole. On the other side of the door was not, in fact, one of the children. It was a young, nervous looking man in a suit. He had brown hair and dark eyes, and overall looked rather plain. He was holding what appeared to be a chocolate cake. Ah. A chocolate cake. Kenshin knew where this was going. He opened the door, and watched with some amusement as the young man jumped out of his skin.  “Yes?” He said, and the young agent looked like he was about to faint. “U-uhm.” he gulped. “I’m with the-” “Yes, I know who you’re with. What do you need?” Kenshin waved him inside, and relieved him of the chocolate cake. Mm, cake. But what did they want this time? He was glad, at least, they’d sent someone else this time. Agent Cooper was an arse. “I’m Hornsby,” The man burst out, “I, uh, I am Agent Hornsby. I was sent by - well..” Hornsby tripped over the toy on the carpet as he came in, stumbling inadvertently closer to Kenshin and then scrambling back a few steps to a “safe” distance.  Kenshin really hoped he didn’t start crying. This poor man. “I was sent to ask for...a blood sample?” his voice trembled slightly. Kenshin paused at the doorway to the kitchen and looked back. Hornsby looked at the cake that Kenshin was holding, and then at the door behind him. He was likely wishing he hadn’t handed over said cake so he could use it as a weapon...or shield. Kenshin sighed. “I’m not going to kill you, calm down.” Hornsby did not in fact calm down.  ‘He must be new - they aren’t usually this jumpy. ’ “Do you want some tea?” “Y-ye-” Agent Hornsby’s voice cracked. “Yes, sir.” So, as usual, Kenshin finds himself shuffling a young man into his kitchen to feed and offer tea. It seems the years of being everyone’s default babysitter have payed off. Soon, Hornsby is sat at his table, teacup in hand, looking less like he’ll faint but more like he’ll throw up. Kenshin serves himself a piece of cake and obviously enjoys it while he eats. He watches with amusement the uncomfortableness emanating in waves from this young man. ‘ He looks like he thinks I want to eat him...well, a t least the cake is good.’  He briefly wonders how long the boy will sit and try to drink tea before he has a coronary. Kenshin does not offer the nervous man cake. “So, Agent Hornsby.”  If possible, the boy looks even paler when Kenshin says his name. “What do they wish a blood sample for?” Arthur swallowed. “I...They didn’t say sir?  Just. Asked me to get a sample….from you...if that’s okay.”  ‘What did they tell this boy that makes him so nervous?’  It wasn't until Hornsby replies that Kenshin realizes he may have asked out loud. “Are you..uh….really a God sir?  Or...whatever you are?” Hornsby flinches, realizing he has probably said too much. “Oro!” Kenshin just tries not to laugh, ‘ A God?  They think I am a God?’   Kenshin considers the boy with his violet eyes, trying to keep the mirth from his face, which unfortunately has the side effect of making him appear almost annoyed. “I am whatever I am, yes.” This is possibly the most fun he’ll have until break ends. He leisurely eats another bite of cake while Arthur blanches further and hides behind his tea cup.   “Hmmm, I suppose It is acceptable”, Kenshin finally replies.  “How much of a sample do you need?” He briefly considers if he should go get a knife.  He really doesn’t like needles. “Um...they gave me some tubes?”  I’ll...I’ll get them! They are in the car, right!”  Arthur obviously is suffering from this experience. The flustered Agent runs out of the room and Kenshin can hear him going out the front door. Even odds on if the boy runs or comes back in.  Perhaps he will offer him some cake if he does return. Pouring himself some more tea, he slices himself a second piece.  A few minutes later, Arthur comes back in with a black case. Opening it up there are three small vials and a butterfly IV set. ‘I hate needles’  Kenshin eyes the case considering how much they will continue to bother him if he refuses.  “You can have one.”   No cake for the boy after all, damn needles. Arthur flushes, “Ah..of course.  One will be fine.”  
Oxford, United Kingdom, Winter, 2072
 Opening the door to the lecture hall, Kenshin smiled.  It was good to be back. This time around he was actually teaching Japanese language and culture.  Much of which had changed at least a little since he last lived in Japan, but he had tried to keep up through television and study.  ‘ I think this is the same lecture hall I was in back in the 1940s….with some upgrades.’  He was followed inside by a brown haired, green eyed, slight young woman of about 20, carrying another box.  “Where do you want this one, Uncle Kenshin?” Helen (the 4th) asked. She grunted a little, shifting a knee up to hold the box while she adjusted its weight in her hands.   Kenshin set down the well-worn wooden case on the desk near the front of the room, “Here is fine…”  He looked up at her as she finished navigating the stairs down to the lecture floor. “Oro! Helen! That one is heavy! “No kidding,” she grunted, dumping the box on the desk and stretching with relief while Kenshin hovered. “What do you keep in here anyway?”   “Ah, books!  And letters. Henry’s old sketchbooks...Things!”  Kenshin happily replied. Opening the box he pulled out a badly carved wooden turtle to show her, And then proceeded to decorate his desk with a few very random objects.  He pulled out a clear garment bag with some replicas and some of his original clothing, a miniature koto case and his shakuhachi. The instruments went on the desk, and the clothing was hung up in the lockable storage cabinet at the side of the room.  The box was also locked in the cabinet after the books were emptied into a locking bookshelf. The final item to grace the desk was a framed picture of Kenshin and Henry with the other instructors from WW2, on the beach outside of Alexandria. A smaller picture of a Japanese woman was added into the corner of the frame. “Helen sat in Kenshin’s chair and picked up the picture, putting her feet on his desk.  “I know who these two are, but who are the rest?” Kenshin peered over her shoulder, “Well the one on the left is Brewer, he taught slavic languages and German.  Williams is on the right, he mostly taught French and Spanish, sometimes Greek. He took over the care of Mochi when your great great grandfather was reassigned.”  Kenshin tapped the last face in the row a few times, trying to remember. “Paulson? Parson? He taught many of the middle eastern languages.” Helen smiled back at him curiously, referring to the cat the prior him was holding in the picture, “Is this the original Mochi?” “The one your Great Uncle Paul wrote those children’s books about, yes.” Trying to distract her a bit from the picture and glancing only momentarily at Kaoru’s image as he reclaims the frame from her, he changes the subject, “So I hear you have been accepted into the astrophysics program?  Why do you want to study that when History or Japanese is so much better?” He grins at his own joke. She just gives him a look, “Uncle, you know I think we should be working on getting into space.  It’s not like this planet will last forever. I’d like to be part of the solution to getting us there.”  MI5 Offices, Oxford Research and Observation Branch, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,
Late Afternoon
 “Threatening the Greens is a terrible idea.”  Agent Simmons insisted. She pressed her fingers to the glass of the desk in front of her, gazing intently at Senior Agent Armstrong.  “If you put them at risk, Himura will not hesitate to come for them, and you only need to look at his file -Hell look at his operations list!  This will end badly, Sir. Very. Badly.” “Your concerns were noted, Simmons,” Armstrong replied with the tone of a man who was sure he always had the right opinion. “You aren’t involved in this.  I know you have a soft spot for the man after being his liaison for the last few years, but you need to step back and look at the bigger picture! Kenshin Himura or Kenneth Green or whatever you want to call him - belongs to us.”    Simmons thought this level of chauvinism had died with the re-birth of the space program.  Pushed by Helen Green-Wright who had later gone on to be prime minister, they had even started to consider colonizing the moon, but evidently she was wrong. He shifted back in his chair, emphasizing his words with one handed gestures . “ He is here at our pleasure - and because no one has had the guts to stand up to him and demand he do what we need him to do, we have had no progress in discovering how he has lived so long.  Leveraging the Greens will enable us to force him to comply with the testing.” “I am going on record that I am opposed to this.” Simmons narrowed her eyes.  “You put us all in peril by doing this.” Armstrong gave an oily smile and almost purred, “Then run back to London and report me.  I know you aren't allowed to discuss Evergreen over the phone. By the time you get back, I will already have his ...cooperation .” Simmons smiled sweetly, knowing it would bother him more than her anger, “Oh, I will.”   Oxford, Kenshin’s Flat, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,
Late Afternoon
 Kenshin was beginning to regret agreeing to teach the distance courses this summer.  He never got the enjoyment of actually working with those students, just the headache of grading and recording lectures that he wasn’t sure anyone even watched.  Dropping his latest batch of papers on the coffee table, he sank back into the couch and rubbed his closed eyes with one hand and smoothed his hair away from his face.  ‘ Perhaps I should take a break and spend some time with my swordwork.  The exercise usually helps .’ With a long exhale, he peeked at his watch, then back at the pile of papers he needed to finish grading.  Unfortunately he didn’t have enough time for a good workout before he needed to be at James’ house tonight.  It was a birthday celebration, after all. Paul (the 7th), was turning 60. He couldn’t miss that. This Paul was very much like the original Paul had been, although his looks took more after his mother Helen.  Even his namesake Kenny (the 1st!) would be there, although he couldn’t talk yet. His babble was still very cute and obviously intelligent. Maybe just three more papers…   Green’s home, Outside Oxford, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,
Early Evening
 James Green was in a terrible mood.   Bad enough to have stepped in a puddle earlier, but upon getting home, before he even had time to change socks, he had been blinded with a canvas bag over his head. Now, he couldn’t just stand for that, and so he had proceeded to yell as loud as he could and slam the attacker into the wall.   Unfortunately there had been more than one.  He had unceremoniously been overpowered and bound with tape.  He could hear his wife Kami and his father Paul giving a good fight in the kitchen, and some kind of war cry from Harry upstairs. He could hear...Kenny!  Oh, he must be in his chair in the kitchen - hmm, at least someone was happy - James could hear him giggling.   Who were these people?  And what had his family done to piss the wankers off? Some muffled screeching was getting closer, and someone was thrown down beside him.  Must be Kami. Another thump against the wall immediately after with a muffled grunt must be his father.  “Are you both ok? Who are these people?” he asked, and then realized they must be gagged when the muffled reply was unintelligible. He could her some scuffling upstairs and yelling, and Kenny was now crying in the kitchen. There was a loud crash against the wall and “Fuck, someone get the sword away from that kid!” and a few minutes later an “Ow! Gag him too! He bites!”  and then Harry was tied up beside him as well. James was fighting both anger and fear, when the bag was pulled up and something was sprayed in his face - and the world faded into black.   Secure Facility - Outside Oxford, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155
6:40pm (1840)
 “Wake him up.” James hears from a low but nasal voice as he began to swim back into consciousness.  “We need information.” He was jerked into a sitting position.  Blearily he opened his eyes trying to figure out where the hell he was when suddenly he remembered the house, Kami, Harry and everyone… Too late, he began struggling against his bonds and realized he had already been tied to whatever was behind him.  His hands were cuffed in front of him, so at least that was less uncomfortable than the tape he had been secured with before, but his upper arms seemed to be tied with rope behind his back.  HIs feet were also secured together. He glared at the red faced man across the room, cursing behind his gag. “Mr. Green.  If you cease struggling, I will allow you to rejoin your family.  If however you resist...well, it would be terrible if something were to happen to them.”   James immediately stilled. The red faced man was the one with the nasal voice.  It seems at some point a blow had been landed to the man’s face, because his nose was quite swollen, crooked, and appeared to have recently been bleeding.  A monitor came on in the wall beside the nose man, revealing a small room with the rest of his family. They had been untied, but it looked like his father was still out - he was laying on one of the cots.  Kami was holding Kenny, and a wave of relief hit him when it appeared that their youngest was alright. Harry was pacing, but also seemed to be ok, if a bit ruffled. Nose man nodded, and someone behind him untied the gag and removed it.  James tried to regain some moisture in his mouth and ease the ache in his jaw before speaking.  “What...why are we here? Who are you?!” “It doesn’t matter who I am.  What you need to understand, is that you and your family are here as bait.  If you wish to live and prosper, you will cooperate. Do I make myself clear?” James clenched his jaw with anger, but nodded.   How could he get out of this?  “Now, what time was Kenshin supposed to arrive at your home?” “Kenshin?  You mean Uncle Kenny?” Nose man nodded. “At 20 to Eight.” He grudgingly replied, and hoped he was convincing.  He still wasn’t sure what this was all about, but his family was being held hostage, and Uncle Kenny was somehow involved in this mess.  
Green’s home, Outside Oxford, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155

6:45pm (1845)
 Upon arrival at the Greens, Kenshin gets out of the taxi and collects his bottle of wine and a box of some homemade mochi which was his contribution of this evening’s festivities.  As he reached the door he rang the bell, but there was no answer. He could see lights on inside, but no sounds - ‘Perhaps they were in the back of the house, or had run out to get something ?’   Deciding to try the door, Kenshin reached for the latch when he noticed the wood is scraped beside the frame where the locking mechanism was, and it not fully latched.   Someone had forced their way in. Immediately he left the porch and headed for the side of the house.  He left the wine, his jacket, and box of Mochi in the bushes, and circled around to the kitchen wall, avoiding the windows and trying to stay as much in the shadow of the house as he could.  If someone was in the house, they would probably have gone to investigate whomever was at the door.  He needed to get inside quickly.  While Kami cooked, she tended to crack open the kitchen window a bit, and so very rarely locked it. Hopefully, Kenshin inched his way under the window and lifted his fingers to the frame, testing it...and Yes!  It slowly slid upwards until the pane was as open as it could get, with only the slightest of squeaks at the end. Kenshin flinched. He was obviously out of practice. First checking the visible yard and surroundings for anyone that might be watching, Kenshin shifted to peer slightly into the window, listening for anyone who might be inside, or who might have heard the window.  When nothing responded after a reasonable time, Kenshin slowly stood and maneuvered his way inside, carefully pulling through the open window and lowering himself to the floor in a silent crouch. Still no noise inside, although he could tell that something had been cooking too long, a slightly burnt acidic smell in the air and stinging his eyes.   There.   A slight sound in the room above him.   Pulling the poker carefully from the stand beside the fireplace, and a bottle of oil from the countertop, he crouched again waiting for movement. ‘ I should not have worn a suit today.’  After there was no further sense of occupants, he silently glided through the kitchen, avoiding some pans which had oddly been left on the floor.  Kenshin oiled the hinges, and opened the pantry door to slip inside and left it slightly ajar. Going up the back staircase in the back of the pantry to the next level, he paused at the door to the old servants quarters, now being used as mostly storage and as a playroom.  Oiling those hinges as well, he eased it open enough to see the room was dark.  No noises.  He slipped inside and over to the hall door, laying on the floor beside the wall.  Using the poker, he hooked the edge of the pocket door along the bottom where it met the carpet, and slid it ever so slightly open. Now he could see into the lit hallway, while the room he was in was still dark.   Suddenly, he heard movement behind him and felt something brush against his legs with a soft “Prrrow..”  Kenshin nearly jumped out of his skin, but thankfully didn’t cry out. Although momentarily he regretted getting the Greens a cat.  “Little Mochi!” He whispered harshly, turning to stroke her soft gray fur and shifting to a kneeling crouch, “You should not sneak up on me!” Taking steadying breaths as the cat wandered back into the darkness of the room, Kenshin leaned forward to scan the hallway, and then slid the door back further into the pocket, stepping out into the cluttered space.   There had obviously been some sort of struggle.  Harry’s bokken was broken into two pieces in the corridor, and there were signs of things hitting the walls, scuffing up the paint.  ‘Thankfully no signs of blood…’   He flinched - he had obviously come to a conclusion too soon.   Kenshin crouched near the small bit of spatter on the wall, and noticed there was also a smear on the broken practice blade. Clearing the rest of the second floor, Kenshin then stalked silently through the remainder of the house, trying to piece together what had happened, and why.   The basement was clear, and it as the sun was getting lower outside it was getting dimmer indoors.  He went back to the kitchen and rifled through the junk drawer for a torch, and then turned off the oven, which was still on.  He didn’t want to turn on any additional lights and draw attention to his presence in the house. Kenshin was heading to the front stairs when he noticed something catch the light on the floor near the front door.  Stepping up to the paper, he could see where it had originally been set so someone coming in the front door would notice it. He stooped to pick it up, and took on an unnatural stillness as he read: ---Kenshin - We have them.  If you want to see them again, you will report to the following address at 2330 tonight.  Bring no one, tell no one. Come unarmed. You will submit to testing and being held until further notice.  If you resist, they will suffer. 51.763905, -1.217754---The stillness resolved into sudden clarity, as Kenshin’s normally cheerful face hardened into a cold expression he had not worn for many, many years. 
Who. Would. Dare.
 Scanning the note again, he notices the thickness of the paper, the odd and antiquated use of a typewriter font.  Lifting the paper up in front of the light, the seal of the watermark becomes clear, and a low growl escapes his lips and he crushed the paper in his hands.  Whichever agent was behind this must not know him well, to think he is this much of an idiot.   London MI5 Offices, New Building, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155
7:15pm (19:15)
 Sitting down in the offered chair before the director’s desk.  Agent Simmons was relieved to have finally made it past the levels of bureaucracy to just have this meeting, let alone to call the director back from home for it.    Director Llewellyn sat and smoothed her suit jacket after closing the door, and activated the jamming field in the room.  “So, Agent Simmons. What is so urgent on the Evergreen project that you needed to call me back to work?” Simmons tried not to flinch, she rarely had been in the Director’s office, let alone facing her direct regard and potential wrath. “Director, I unfortunately must report that Senior Agent Armstrong has gone rogue.  He has disregarded my advice on the Evergreen case - which as you know is my primary assignment - and is taking a team to use the Greens as hostages against Mr. Himura.”  Simmons reported, keeping her voice cool and even. “I think it is a political ploy. You know he is supported in The Commons.” Llewellyn frowned, her face darkening at the news.  “When does he plan to execute this action? He did not submit anything to headquarters for approval.  At least not since his request for additional material was denied.” Simmons nodded, meeting the Director’s eyes, her voice rising in tension as she became more invested in the conversation.  She was trying to stay neutral, but she practically knew all of these people - she had been watching them long enough to at least!  “He was leaving to collect his team as I left Oxford this afternoon - but we can't discuss Evergreen over the phone or you know I would have reported earlier if possible.   Armstrong thinks he can get Kenshin to submit to testing and confinement if he leverages the Greens.” The Director stood, pushing a red square on her desk - which turned green as the door opened, An Indian man in a blue suit stepping inside.  “Send the response team theta to intercept Armstrong and his team - Oxford. He is acting without authorization.” “Sir.”  He replied, and left, closing the door behind him. Llewellyn turned her gaze back to Simmons, who was still seated.  “You will go to Himura’s flat - run interference - try to locate him before he becomes involved.  Hopefully we can avoid a national crisis here. This could potentially…” she trailed off and then switched subjects, “Take the skimmer.  And take Marcus or Jenkins with you - they should both be in the hanger.  You will travel faster that way. I am authorizing level 2 communication on this - use Willow as the call-sign.” Standing, Simmons responded with conviction, “Right away, Director.”     Oxford, Kenshin’s Flat, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,
8:02pm (2002)
 Agent SImmons is relieved to see that nothing seems to be out of order.  There had been no answer at the door, which had only stopped her for the moment it took to break the security, but with Jenkin’s help the apartment was cleared in short order - unfortunately, no Kenshin. Tapping her wrist to activate the coms, Simmons waved Jenkins to close up as they removed signs of their presence.  “Willow one report to base - Target is not at the flat, I repeat - Willow still not located. Proceeding to secondary location.” She can hear the “Understood” reverberate in her jaw, the implant not even noticed anymore. ----
Near the Green’s house, Outside Oxford, United Kingdom,

8:43pm (2043)
 They take the skimmer to the Green’s neighborhood, parking it in a copse of trees on one of the large properties about a quarter of a mile away.   It takes them another 15 minutes to fully search the Green’s house, which currently houses no Greens and no Kenshin, although they find a bottle of wine and a box of food in the bushes.   “Jenkins, set up across the street and surveil.  Notify me if anyone - and I mean anyone comes up to the house.  I’ll send a relief to you if it goes all night.” He nods and goes to collect his gear from the skimmer.  Taking one last look over the Green’s home, a sigh escapes her lips before she taps her wrist to report in.  “Willow one to base - Negative on location two.  Appears the first team may have already been here.  I’m leaving Jenkins here to watch for Willow and associated. I could use some support from the Oxford office if I am going to search the whole damn city.”  she says in a quiet, but dry tone. “Not that I don’t appreciate Jenkins, but he is only one man.  We should have planted a tracker.” “Understood.”  She hears back.  “Standby.” Great.  Standby.  She’s standing by.   About 10 minutes later while she’s walking slowly through the neighborhood, Jenkins reports in, “Willow two reporting - In place.  Remote camera set on property rear. Good signal.” “Understood two, standing by.” she replies under her breath. She continues walking back to the skimmer while she waits.   Oxford, Kenshin’s Flat, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,
9:25pm (2125)
 Kneeling in front of his small shrine, he lit a stick of incense.  ‘Forgive me.  And help me find those responsible.’  After a short while, Kenshin stood, and removed his Sakkabtou from the stand on the wall.  Tying it into its old familiar place at his side, he glanced briefly at his reflection in the glass by the door.  Traditional garb, sword, and his hair pulled back, his scar standing out in surprising contrast on his face - a man he had long thought gone looked back at him. There is an odd sense of nostalgia, in his gut, as he looks at himself in the glass. He is not wearing the faded red of his wandering days, but the deep blue of his days at war. At the time, it was for stealth. Kenshin breathed in deeply, and closed his eyes. Now, he realizes, intimidation is far more important than stealth. His eyes open, and cold amber replaces warm violet hue.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Abandoned Radcliffe Hospital, Old Molecular Biology Wing, Oxford, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,
9:47pm (2147)
 It is quiet.  And it smells like antiseptic.  This place is creepy. He shivers subtly and tells himself it’s the cool breeze from the broken window. Junior Agent Mossman checks his watch again, which lights up briefly to display the time and date - only a few minutes until he reports in.  Stakeouts are so miserable. ‘72 bottles of beer on the wall, 72 bottles of beer…’ Agent Potter owes him bad for this one.  Shifting somewhat, he checks the sight on his rifle again.  Still no contact. Not that he thinks the guy will be stupid enough to show. On the rooftop across the way, a somewhat confused and tired man walks from the stairway ending at the roof door to the edge of the flat roof, scanning the surrounding buildings and the city around that.  As he approaches the edge, he catches the flash of light from Mossman checking his watch in a window across the way. When he is about to chalk it up to his imagination, he again notices the shifting of movement when the agent leans in to check the scope of his gun.   Crouching to avoid the other man noticing him , he takes stock of the situation.  There is someone watching the outside of the building -  A building which if his few minutes inside are any indication, is abandoned.  He can’t be on campus anymore, because the surrounding city seems intact and alive compared to this fenced in lot, although not a city he is familiar with.  That and he still has no phone signal. The signs inside are however in english, and if his past experiences are any indication, probably not American. So, if someone else is here, it must mean he is also here for a reason.  Perhaps he will find another random Japanese man to rescue, since that seems to be the theme lately. Not many legitimate organizations would choose an abandoned medical facility as a base of operations.  It wouldn’t be logical. He shifts out of sight into the shadows of the rooftop, and puts some eyedrops in.  This is really getting old. 
MI5, Oxford Research and Observation Office, June 1st, 2155,

9:47pm (2147)
 It was late, but the trains were still running.  He considered if they would have taken the Green’s to London, but almost immediately ruled that out.  The time they had allotted would not have given him time to guarantee arrival, so it must be one of their local facilities.   Unfortunately, with things having been so smooth and war free, he had not tracked their facilities down for quite a few years.  Hopefully the headquarters for the area hadn’t moved. Which was why, but a short time later, he was standing across the street, looking at the entrance to a familiar building.  It was still the only building on this street that had businesses listed on the sign, but those same businesses were the ones from when the building had been built years ago - and they never showed up in the directory service.  He considered how to get in, and how much trouble it would be to get back out, and came up with an idea. A terrible idea, but at least an idea. Embracing his terrible idea, he walks up to the front entrance, and up to the desk in the center of the lobby, which is manned by a very bored looking young man in a rumpled security suit. This young man was very familiar, actually. Daniel, Kenshin recalled, was a student in his class not even five years ago, who had dropped out mid-term. As Kenshin catches Daniel’s eye, the terrible idea begins to shape into a...plausible one. “Professor?” Daniel asked, startled. “What are you doing here? And what are you wearing? Then a moment later, since Kenshin seems a bit off from Daniel’s memory, “Are you alright?” “I have a meeting with Simmons,” Kenshin said, a flat smile on his face, “Unfortunately, I did not have time to change clothes after my presentation today - I am running a bit late.” Daniel seems to buy it, and turns away from Kenshin to reach for the desk phone and call the upstairs desk to check Simmons office or for whomever is on duty. Kenshin takes his chance. As the young security guard turns, his hand slides over the edge of the counter and presses the elevator button beside him. Daniel is already fully turned around toward the phone as the doors open, offering Kenshin’s explanation to whomever is on the other end of the line.    Hmm.. Change of plans.   Kenshin shifts quickly into the elevator, just long enough to press the top floor and hop out before it begins it’s ascent.  Daniel is still on the phone with whomever is upstairs, talking about Kenshin’s meeting. “Agent Warner will meet you at the Elevator lobb….” Daniel trails off, looking around.  Kenshin has slipped back out the lobby doors and Daniel is left in an empty room as he stands to look around.  “Professor?” Daniel glances at the elevator, and sees on the display above the doors that it has just passed floor six. “Ah, nevermind, Julia, it seems he’s on his way.  Should I call in a security breach?” He winces, hoping not. He’s already going to be in enough trouble as it is. ”I don’t think he’s any danger - he’s just a professor.  I used to take a class from him.” He nods at the words on the other end of the line, “Got it, ok, well, if you need backup, let me know and I’ll sound it.” ---  Kenshin found it ridiculously easy to climb up to the roof of a neighboring building which at some point had been built up taller than this one.  Jumping the distance between them, and stepped over to get inside the top floor of the MI5 office while security was watching the elevator. Without stepping into view, he absentmindedly re-directed the roof camera to a nest of pigeons, broke the lock, and entered the utility room; which, ironically, was likely on the top floor for security reasons. Inside, there were many panels and switches. Many more than Kenshin had the time to figure out. So, he went with the most clearly labeled, ‘Elevator controls,’ and the circuit breaker beside it. He crosses some wires, and he can hear the elevator start repeatedly dinging from the maintenance access door across the room. With calm focus, he flips the switch on some of the circuits in the neighboring electrical panel, removing labels to make it harder to fix. He notices that also posted to the wall is a very dusty ‘Emergency Plan’ which has maps of the building identifying exit routes and room numbers.  He rips out the map for the top floor, and turns back to the circuit panel. Identifying the top floor on the panel and removing most of those labels as well as a few others for good measure, he cuts the lights, and power to the camera and security system - What idiot labeled this?  A blue emergency light flickers on above him, bathing the room in an eerie glow. --- Downstairs, when the elevator begins randomly dinging and switching floors, Daniel looks up again from his movie and considers if the elevator heading up might have just been a malfunction.   Daniel glances at the monitors - all quiet...and pigeons?  Damn birds must have landed on the camera again. He turns back to the phone and pushes the call button for the upstairs desk. “Julia,” he begins when the line picks up, “Oh, my pardon Agent Banks.  Is Julia still there?” “Alright, I’ll just radio her to let her know.” His attention is already returning to his personal phone, and the movie he’d been watching on it before he was interrupted by work. “You already called them for the elevator? Yep, all quiet here.  Thanks Banks.” He hangs up the phone. --- Pressing the call button for the freight elevator which also enters into the Utility room, Kenshin waits, and when it arrives, he simply steps inside and watches for the door behind him to close. Then he pushes the button for the top floor, opening the door to the other side of the elevator, and into the main building.  The main elevator around the corner is still randomly dinging. He quickly peeks out, and since no one is in the hallway, steps down a couple of doors away from the corner, trying each handle before slipping inside the room behind the first unlocked door.  It seems to be someone’s office. He pulls out the flashlight he collected at the Green’s house, and clicks it on the first level, just enough to lessen the gloom. This interior office has no windows.  Locating the phone on the desk, he riffles through papers until he finds an office directory. Excellent.  It is simple deduction to discover which office suite is the largest, and highest up in the building.  Comparing the map he lifted to the directory, he determines that Senior Agent-in-Charge Curtis Armstrong’s office appears to be his target.  Coldly, he quickly determines possible routes there from his current location, as well as exit strategies should he need to leave quickly. This place does seem oddly quiet, even for an office at night. He grabs a few small items off of the desk, turning off the torch, and returns to the slightly ajar door, scanning the hallway again before exiting.  He can hear someone approaching...no, two people. He waits. --- Julia Warner is the most Junior Agent in the Oxford Office.  Which is how she finds herself with all the crap duty shifts and tasks.  Coordinator of night security contractors, custodians and maintenance sounds less romantic and interesting than ‘Junior Agent’ - still so disappointing that reality isn’t like her favorite novels.   They finally had some sort of op going on, and rather than actually getting the chance to go, she is shuffled off to the skeleton crew remaining at the building. So here she is, escorting maintenance to the problem - as if he couldn’t find it himself.   They step around the corner, oblivious to their audience who has slipped up to the corner behind them, and stand in front of the dinging main elevator. It opens.  And closes. And a moment later, opens again. She gestures curtly to the elevator door and at the lights. As he still just stands there. “Elevator is on the fritz, as you can hear, and we seem to be having issues with the lights and power, as you can also, clearly see.”  It wouldn’t be so bad if Marvin wasn’t so creepy. Marvin smoothed back his oily brown hair over his bald spot and shot her a leer, “Oh.  Right, well, I still appreciate your...:” his eyes skimmed over her assets, “..help. I can only do so much troubleshooting you know.  Important to know what the priorities are.” She rested one hand on her taser and just pointed to the elevator with the other. He shrugs as if it’s no loss of his own, and inserting his keys into the exterior panel he locks the doors open, and the dinging blessedly stops.  He steps inside opening the interior panel, and plugs in a diagnostic tool. Julia waits, radioing in, “At the 10th floor elevator access.  Maintenance on site.” She gets a copy back, and catches him ogling her again, rather than paying attention to his work.  He just leers, and returns his eyes to the glowing screen. “There’s nothing wrong with it.” He finally says. “What?”  Julia steps into the elevator beside him, looking at the screen - not that she can tell what all that technobabble means. “Of course there's something wrong with it.  Why else would it be doing the thing with the doors and the dinging?” “Well, I can turn the power off to it, and we can close it up for now.  But this says it is in running order. I’ll have to call a specialist in.” “Bother.” She lifts the radio back to her lips, “Banks?  Yeah, we are shutting it down for the night. Need to call a specialist in.”   The reply echoes loudly in the small space, so she steps back into the hallway “Copy.  What about that guy you were going to track down? Said he was here for a meeting?” “Shit, I forgot.  On my way.” Her gaze flicks back to the oily man still in the elevator, packing up his tools. “I’ll check back with you later Marvin - see if you can figure out the lights?”   She turns before he nods, and continues down the hallway around the opposite corner from where Kenshin is listening in.   She isn’t there to notice when Kenshin slips over and turns the access key in the opposite direction and removes it, the closing elevators’ doors locking shut on a startled, “Oi!” from Marvin and a banging on the doors.  “This isn’t funny Warner!” he can hear through the doors. Kenshin takes the keys with him, and steps after Agent Warner silently. --- Eventually, she gets to Simmon’s office, just down the west hall from Armstrong’s, and checks the door - still locked.  She clicks her radio over to the other channel “Hey Danny, there isn’t anyone up here. You sure that guy went up the elevator?” Downstairs, Daniel startles at the crackle of the radio and almost drops in on the floor as he fumbles for it.  He had been watching a particularly intense scene in his movie. “Uh, yeah, Julia! Sorry. What? You mean Professor Green?  Yeah, he said he had a meeting.” Junior Agent Julia Warner goes still. Lifting her radio up she replies “Did you say Professor Green?” “Yeah, a professor at Oxford. Professor Green. Said he was here to meet with Simmons, seemed a bit late, but I guess they are in class most of the day.”  Daniels short attention span is already almost back to his movie, and he doesn’t catch the tone in which Warner had responded. Shit. Julia flips back over to the other channel on the radio and pulls her taser, suddenly feeling inadequately alone. “Security bre-”  her voice cuts off as Kenshin’s sword expertly strikes her on the side of the head and she slides to the floor. The taser she fired as she was struck hits the wall, the lines falling uselessly to the floor beside her. Kenshin briefly regards her with cold, amber eyes. So young. Pity she seems to be involved. She did after all, recognize his current name. He uses her taser cords to tie her hands behind her to her ankles, and opening Simmon’s office with his handy set of acquired keys, drags her inside.  He drops her inside the door, searches her pockets, and deposits the phone and knife she also had on her into the desk drawer. Since she was so concerned with him getting in here, he figures it’s worth the time to look around.  His quick search of the desk doesn’t turn up much, except a printed email that looks like it was sent from Simmons to Armstrong, objecting to “the mission” and going on record that she is against it - dated today. ‘Perhaps, if this is about the Greens, it isn’t all of MI5 after all.’  The only other item left seemingly out of place is a small opaque plastic box with some little clicker type devices wedged into foam inside.  One is missing. He takes one out and examines it, and vaguely remembers Simmons using one of these when she came over to “chat” one time. Some sort of jammer.  He pulls a few more out of the box, and shoves them into a pocket. He shuts the unconscious Agent Warner in the office as he leaves, locking it again.  Someone will be here soon. Sooner than she will wake from that strike. He retrieves the radio and turns the volume down, so it can just barely be heard, and clips it to his collar before continuing down the hallway. --- Downstairs, Daniel pulls out a candy bar and glances over at the monitors that he is supposed to be watching.  It is only at this belated moment that he realizes that the majority of the cameras for the 10th floor are out.  The only one still running is outside Armstrong’s office, and it is on a separate circuit from the others. The half eaten candy bar drops forgotten to the desk as he watches a warrior from one of his movies cut the door to Armstrong’s office from its hinges with one blow, circumventing the hand plate, and step inside.   Professor...Green? He pushes the Alarm.  In another part of the building, Agent Banks swears and picks up the phone.  In another building, a blinking light and an alert tone sound, and security guards begin to scramble for their gear. --- This office is ridiculous. Obviously this man thinks highly of himself, but couldn’t he be a little neater?  Kenshin sheaths his sword and begins pulling cabinet doors and flipping through papers and files. After a few minutes he slams the drawer shut, I’m getting nowhere, and the Greens are still missing!  His expression hardens again and he frowns, considering the room. Kenshin steps quickly over to Armstrong’s desk.  If anything on the location of the Greens is here, it would be with one of the higher-ups. He knew his file was a high-priority one with the Oxford office. There was the issue, however, of finding it among all...this. Agent Armstrong was surprisingly messy, considering the sensitive nature of many of these papers. And, surprisingly stuck in the past, considering how much was available on paper. The door behind him, now hanging off the door handle rather than the hinges, fell to the floor with a bang as a tall man in a security uniform burst in. “Stop right there!” he shouted, aiming a gun at Kenshin’s head, “This office contains sensitive information. Back away from the desk.” Kenshin looked at the man over his shoulder and drew his sword in front of him, view of it blocked by the desk. There were five others with him, dressed much the same. Hmm. It seemed that this would take longer than he thought. He smiles slowly because the man with the gun is trembling. “Good Evening.  Perhaps you can collect Agent Simmons for me - seems I am late for a meeting.”  Kenshin turns to face the man and holds his sword ready at his side. The others behind the first guard circle in the sides of the room, blocking the exit and also taking aim. “Drop the weapon!” commands the first man,  his aim steadying slightly. “We have you surrounded.  You are not authorized to be in this location!” His half smile still on his face, Kenshin turns his cold eyes to each man in turn.  “I will give you this chance to surrender. It is only fair.” The man frowns under his mustache, “You are surrounded.  Drop your weapon and surrender! this is your last warning!” Kenshin’s weight shifts slightly and his eyes seem almost to glow, “As you wish.”   With a leap Kenshin flips over the desk.  Two of the guards that had circled the sides of the room try to fire as he moves forward, and end up hitting each other from across the room, crying out in pain and surprise. The first man fires also, which grazes Kenshin’s leg as he clears the desk and strikes the man across the throat with his sakabato.  The man begins to stagger back, gasping. Kenshin is still moving as the fourth guard fires, and his return motion with his blade knocks the bullet out of its trajectory with a spark.  Shifting his weight forward he thrusts the end of the blade into the solar plexus of the guard, knocking the wind from him and causing him to curl over in pain.  Kenshin twists around, cracking the staggering guard across the back of the head, and he goes down, just as the fifth guard fires. Watching the bullet come, Kenshin shifts as much as he can out of the way, and it grazes his arm above the first line of red already gracing that side.   Kicking off of the shoulder of the man bleeding and choking for air, Kenshin flips to his side and lands with sufficient force of his blade that he can feel the crack of the fourth guard’s collarbone and he collapses to the ground with a sharp cry, dropping his gun.  It is only a fraction of a moment later that he is struck again, and completely unconscious. One of the two wounded guards tries to run.  He makes it almost to the door before the stapler Kenshin picks up from the desk and throws knocks him in the back of the head, and he falls to the floor.   Kenshin tilts his head slightly and turns his focused gaze on the last man standing, who drops his gun and lifts his arms above his head, Surrendering. The man barely registers that Kenshin has moved before he feels the sword strike him under the jaw, and he too slumps to the floor into darkness. Kenshin looks down at him without expression.  “Too late.” A flicker of regret briefly crosses his face, and Kenshin swears under his breath.   Only the groans of the injured punctuate the silence after that.   Kenshin rips up one of their shirts and binds the worst wounds - ironically from their own guns - ensuring they at least wont bleed to death.  He quickly uses their handcuffs to secure them, and removes all communication devices and activates one of the jammers he had found in Simmon’s office just in case.  He places the phones and radios in a neat pile in one of the desk drawers, tosses in the active jamming device, and after closing the drawer, jams it shut. He cuts the phone line for good measure, uses their own clothing to gag them for when they finally wake up, and sets them in a neat row against the wall outside the destroyed office door.  The guns he takes with him, and dumps them in the private toilet attached to the office. He then continues his search of the desk and cabinets.  Despite the even greater mess now strewn about, he is eventually able to locate a file of locations - with addresses - of the local facilities of the MI5, and who is in charge of each location.  Sloppy. Comparing that list to the GPS coordinates from the note at the Greens, he narrows it down to three possible locations. There is no guarantee of course that they are actually being held at either place, but it seems to be the only lead he currently has.  He is running out of time. He also finds mention of himself. And the Operation going on today. It seems whomever Senior Agent Armstrong is, has been following his existence for quite a while.  And the Battousai doesn’t like what he sees.   --- One additional security guard, three hallways, one security door, and two agents later, Kenshin finds his way to the upstairs night desk, and one Agent Banks, who is quite willing to talk by the time Kenshin has his hand pinned to a desk with a letter opener. He leaves Banks unconscious, tied to the chair with his own belt and a power cable, and drops the Agent’s phone and weapons on the floor in the hallway outside.   Considering how much trouble the Agent went to, trying to convince Kenshin that the Greens were not at the third location, he is fairly certain that is where they are - and his time is now up. --- Downstairs, Daniel is hiding behind his desk, watching the monitors.  It has been quiet for a while, and he is about to call up to Banks to see if they’ve wrapped things up when static comes over the radio. “Daniel.” He winces and cowers a bit lower, recognizing the voice “Yes...Professor?” “You should call for medical support, some of them are wounded.” “What?  I mean...Professor??”   But Kenshin is already gone.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 10 -   alea iacta est - Part 3 
Green’s Home, Outside Oxford, June 1st, 2155,

10:27pm (2227)
 Agent Simmons had already patrolled the neighborhood twice under the guise of a runner out for a late run before she circled back to the skimmer.  Jenkins was supposed to check in soon, and she wanted to be back before then. She had just sat back in the cockpit and started checking the controls when a light flashed on her monitor and almost immediately afterward her communicator came to life.  “Simmons. We have an alarm at Oxford main - repeat, the alarm has been sounded - no one is picking up so we’re not sure what the situation is. You and Jenkins are the closest answering coms- Please copy.” “Copy.  Willow on standby, reporting to Oxford main. Any word on Armstrong?”“Negative. Coms are dark.” “Understood.” It’s only minutes later that Jenkins is dropping his gear in the skimmer and they are on their way.  What could have happened to the entire Oxford office - Armstrong hadn’t emptied the whole place had he?   
Secure Facility - Outside Oxford, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155

10:40pm (2240)
 The broke-nose, red-faced man had gone for a while, and then come back, always with a slew of new questions, and seemingly more inventive and confusing ways to make him answer them.  It was like a horrible spy story come to life. James had never before felt more relieved to just be left alone to a view of his family on a video screen. He was sort-of proud of himself for bluffing or just giving useless answers for as long as he had, but evidently they were still communicating with the outside world, because they had started to punish him for answers they knew were wrong.  Why were they so obsessed with his Uncle? The questions didn’t even make sense half the time? Something about blood immunity and wanting to know where Kenshin was from and how exactly they were related? Kenshin was from Oxford, or at least has been for as long as really counted. At least they had been leaving his family alone in their little cell.  The rest of his family at least. Kenshin was family too, even if he wasn’t exactly sure how all that lined up.  You mother’s bastard had probably been the wrong answer, if his current level of pain was an indication. He had been able to catch his breath finally when the red-faced man who seemed to be in charge pulled the cattle prod away from his side and turned angrily to the man who had just opened the door and interrupted their “conversation.” “What do you want!  I am busy!” Broken nose hissed. “Sir,  It’s the alarms Sir, they’ve sounded at the main office.” The man glanced at him uncomfortably and back to broken-nose. There was a pause, and then broken-nose got up and left the room with the other man. So he caught his breath, tried to ignore the painful throb of his broken finger and the burns from the cattle prod, and hoped somehow, that they wouldn’t come back. Earlier, he had begun to suspect he was not in the same place as the rest of his family when the video playing behind where Agent Armstrong usually sat shifted to static for a moment, and then seemed to start over.  Everyone on screen was standing where they had been to start from. Lowering his eyes to the floor now that he was left in relative peace, James tried and failed to keep his mind from immediately going to the worst possible scenario.   They were fine, alive, healthy, they had to all be fine.  They wouldn’t just be messing with him to get him to talk - after all, he really didn’t know anything!  Sure, he knew that his Uncle Kenshin was...old..or just..well, Asian, but that couldn’t be that important?!  He was just Uncle Kenny after all! He had always been Uncle Kenny, a staple in their lives, a branch of their family tree.  He would always be there for them, right? That must be it! For some reason, sometime, these people must have done something terrible and Uncle Kenneth must have stopped them.  They must be out for vengeance or something. But ...why, why now? Why his family!? They hadn’t done anything!  --- In the hallway, Agent Armstrong is growling at Agent Potter, “You are sure it was him?!” “Yes Sir, Agent Banks called it in to us, He said that the target took down the entire staff remaining in the building, as well as the security personnel that were called in when the Alarm sounded.”  Potter paused, obviously not wanting to bring Armstrong’s wrath down on himself - he was just the messenger. “Spit it out!” Potter flinched, “Sir...He said that the target is most likely on his way here.  The locations were compromised, pulled from your own office, and he asked specifically after this one.” Armstrong’s face briefly flashed through anger to an emotionless calm, other than the slight overtone of sarcasm in his words,  “Perhaps you should have started with that, Agent Potter.” Armstrong turned and started barking orders, one hand on the doorknob of their ‘guestroom’ while the other Agents in the room began to scramble.   “Potter.” “Yes Sir?” “We’re headed to the cooler.  Make sure they know we are coming.” “Aye Sir.” And Armstrong stepped back out of the room, while Potter heaved a sigh of relief. --- Belatedly James realized the broken nose man had come back into the room and said something to him.  He looked at him blankly, trying to not show how angry and frustrated and ... frightened he was of all of this.   The video of Harry seemed to be taking things better than his own father was.  That thought made him straighten up as much as he could, only flinching a little, and meet the red-faced man’s eyes.  “I don’t know what you expect to get from this. But it won’t be anything good.” Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say.  James tried to ease the pain in his bound joints, and wondered what Uncle Kenshin would do.  The loop video of Green’s family slowly finished its round, and started over again. Armstrong frowned finally, without responding.  Then suddenly walked from the door to James, and sprayed him in the face again.  As James was fading back out of consciousness he heard. “We will see, Mr. Green. Perhaps you need some more time to think it over.”    
MI5, Oxford Research and Observation Office, June 1st, 2155,

10:53pm (2253)
 When Agent Simmons and Jenkins arrive at the Oxford office, they get there about the same time as a couple of ambulances.  There is a security guard directing medical personnel to the freight elevator, since something seems to be wrong with the main elevator - it’s not responding at all and seems stuck on the 10th floor.  Armstrong watches as Jenkin’s expression goes blank and the color leaves his face while he questions the guard as to what happened. She quickly steps over, “What is it?” “It’s Willow.  The contact was Willow - we must have been too late.” The stress in Jenkin’s voice is making it louder than it should be.  The security guard is looking between the two of them with a resigned expression. “Shit.”  Simmons rubs her temples and tries to collect her thoughts. “Willow?  Questions Daniel.  You mean Green, don’t you.  He seemed...different.” Simmon’s blinks, suddenly intent on Daniel, “You know Mr. Green?” Daniel shrugs, a bit uncomfortable at the attention,  “Ah...I thought I did? He was one of my professors...and..well, he said he was here for a meeting?” “A meeting?” Jenkins seems surprised, “Has he been here before?” He questions Simmons. She just shakes her head, “Not while it’s been my assignment.” Daniel puts the dots together again, not as dumb as most think he is when they hear he dropped out, “Ah...You’re Simmons aren’t you.” Both Simmons and Jenkins regard him intently at his announcement. Then Simmons speaks, “Perhaps you should start from the beginning.  What exactly do you know about this building, and Mr. Green, and who he was looking for?” She is already guiding him over to an empty side office before he notices.   Jenkin’s smiles reassuringly at Daniel when he begins to look like he might panic, “It will be fine, we just want to make sure you are alright!  It must have been a traumatic experience to go through this evening. We also want to make sure that Mr. Green is ok. He is...an interesting man.” The rest of the conversation cuts off as the door closes behind them.   --- Daniel Radcliffe IV had been allowed to return home after their conversation.  Simmons had sent Jenkins to make sure that he made it back to his house ok, but she felt she would need to talk to the Analysts after this.  That boy was wasted in night security. Perhaps he could be recruited. She had been both relieved and appalled at what she had found upstairs.  Agent Banks was there, hand bandaged, and said he had been questioned by Green, and had seen him take out most of the staff.  Seems he had regained consciousness fairly quickly though, and other than his hand and a killer headache, had no significant injuries.  They had compared the list of those on duty to those that had been found, and eventually had been able to locate everyone except the maintenance man on night duty and Agent Warner who had been assigned to escort and find their visitor to begin with.   It wasn’t until they had gotten to Simmon's  office and found the Junior Agent unconscious, but alive and well, that they really started to realize how lucky they had been.  Although Simmons was going to miss those Jammers; they were still experimental, and the last few that she had now in the hands of Green. They had found piles of radios and phones and guns, but no one killed, no one missing. They even found the maintenance man stuck in the main elevator.   Banks had said he wasn’t sure where Armstrong had taken the Greens, but he suspected the secure facility under the hospital, and eventually had gone home to recover.   Simmons stepped in to finish coordinating medical treatment and necessary arrangements for the office. It felt like they were always two steps behind. Simmons picked up the secure phone in what had been the night desk room, trying to ignore the bent letter opener and blood still staining the desk, and called the Director. She picked up before it even rang.  “Yes Simmons?” Llewellyn said evenly. Simmons just stared at the desk, “Willow, Director.  It was Evergreen. We were possibly too late, but…” “But what, Agent?” She couldn’t help the tone of hope in her voice, “No one died.  Director. Injured, some, unconscious, yes. But no deaths. He even stopped to bind wounds before he left.” “Ah...We might….We might make it through this after all then.” “Perhaps Director.  Better chances then I would have given earlier today.” “Very well.  Please report in with anything new.  I’ll send someone to straighten out the Oxford mess in the morning.”    Abandoned Radcliffe Hospital, Old Molecular Biology Wing, Oxford, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,
10:58pm (2258)
 “Who are you?!?!!”   This seems to be a common theme with these Villains.  After his forced nap (is it still a nap if your body just shuts down and makes you sleep?) was interrupted by two noisy agents discussing their patrol so far on the roof, and that they are supposed to “neutralize” their target when he arrives, something about a strong arm...etc etc.  - he decided to intervene. WIthout cracking a smile, he replies in his usual deadpan, “I am Eraserhead.”  His tired brain fires some equally tired neurons, and he realizes after speaking that he’s been understanding the English being spoken without much issue, and replying in kind.  Mic must have rubbed off more than he thought. Aizawa’s hair still flies out in its gravity defying halo, his capture weapon wrapped tightly around the man who had just tried to shoot him.  “Do you usually attack people on sight?” For the most part those he had come across seemed surprised to see him there, and hadn’t just tried to shoot him to start with.  Although a few bullets had come into play later in their confrontations. It was only in the last 20 minutes or so that he had seen more of the tactically dressed personnel  scrambling about like ants, guns already drawn. “That’s freaky - what are you??  I’m just doing my job. You aren’t supposed to be here!” The man wiggles in vain, dangling a bit above the ground. The man’s radio falls to the ground, and Aizawa casually kicks it over the side of the roof. Aizawa relieves the man of his gun and of another odd gun like contraption, and secures him before releasing his capture weapon. He really wishes he know what the local law authority was here.  It would make it so much easier to deal with the cleanup. The man continues to struggle against his bonds, standing up against the wall which he had been propped next to, and Aizawa can hear him bite down hard and say something under his breath. “What was that?” he asks, then pointing the device at the man which he had just confiscated. “And what does this do?” “I don’t have to tell you anything!!” the man bites down again, “( Rooftop, west section, one unfriendly, repeat, backup requested. )” This time he can hear the man mumbling to himself, something about backup. Eraser lifts an eyebrow and activates his quirk again. Perhaps this is manifestation of some sort of communication related quirk? With all the random jumping he still hadn’t seen the signs of any quirks so far. He should have been more ready when the man lunges forward, but the lack of sleep had been slowing him down and causing it to be difficult to determine reality from fantasy.  What if he jumped when sleeping? It was unfortunately too real when the man knocked the breath out of him, slamming his shoulder into Aizawa’s midriff, and causing Aizawa to fire the “gun” device he had been absently fiddling with. The man jerks away roughly, falling to the ground and twitching as the taser discharges.  Aizawa, still somewhat confused watches him, and then realizes what the weapon does. “Ah. Well that explains the electrical contacts.” The man, still twitching, falls unconscious.  Aizawa blinks, releasing his finger from the trigger, and tossing the taser over the side of the building also, reaches down and picks the man up over his shoulder.  Stepping back through the roof door, he goes down a now familiar but winding route. Earlier he had found an empty supply room with the key still in the doorknob. He unlocks it again and opens the door with one hand.  Some of those whom he had left in here earlier are beginning to stir. He drops the man against the wall with the others - its getting pretty crowded in here - and then leaves again, locking the door once more. How many more of them could there possibly be?  And who are they hunting?    Abandoned Radcliffe Hospital, Old Molecular Biology Wing, Oxford, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,
11:08pm (2308)
 If his ancestors were watching, they were cruel and fickle, and determined to make nothing go his way. Kenshin settled on the rooftop of his final destination, having ruled out the small safehouse closer to the main Oxford Office. It was an old, “abandoned” hospital, south of the main Headquarters, and there seemed to be...an alarming pile of bodies on its roof. Kenshin stood, looking around at the unconscious men on the ground, before his eyes settled on a strangely familiar man. He was tall, taller than Kenshin definitely, and was dressed in dark clothing. He had an off-white or grey scarf, it was hard to tell in the dark (regardless of Kenshin’s uncanny night vision). He was sat atop a pile of knocked out men, yellow goggles pulled up onto the top of his head, arms folded, and seemed to be nodding off when Kenshin approached. The man shot up, eyes glowing red and hair and scarf flying up in a halo around his face. Those glowing eyes landed on him, and suddenly Kenshin had to dodge the scarf as it came flying at him. It snapped around the empty space he’d vacated, and now they stood at a standstill. This man was dead on his feet, but Kenshin knew better than to underestimate an opponent. “You’re not with them.” The man said in slurred English, like his mouth wasn’t used to making those sounds in that order, although it sounded more like a statement than a question. His hair and scarf settled back around his shoulders as he scanned Kenshin’s somewhat torn and bloodied traditional garb, settling briefly on his sword before those no longer glowing eyes lifted back to Kenshin’s face. “You understand me?” He then said in fluent Japanese. “Yes,” Kenshin replied in kind. “Do you know where they came from?” Perhaps this man had information that would narrow his search. “Basement, except that one. ” The man lifted a hand-radio up from the pile of unconscious bodies behind him as he continued speaking, “He was watching the ground, until he got too curious.”  He points out an unconscious brown haired agent. “Had a rifle. Looking for you perhaps?” He lifts his tired eyes back to Kenshin. “They’ve mentioned some people down there. Captives. Those yours?” “The Greens. Family.” Kenshin looked the man up and down. “Are you up to helping this one get them back?” “So formal.” The man grunted. He stepped away from his pile and made his way towards the door that led from the roof. Kenshin fell into step beside him and they began making their way towards the next floor. The man gestured for Kenshin to take one side of the floor while he took the other, and from there they split.     Abandoned Radcliffe Hospital, Old Molecular Biology Wing, Oxford, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,
11:14pm (2314)
 Dr. Hampton counts the number of syringes left on the tray, and then back at the still docile and sleeping Green family.  Only two...he could have sworn he had three, but no matter, he must have already dosed him and thrown it in the sharps bin.  Hampton lifts the last two syringes from the tray, and reading the names of the carefully prepared doses, finishes the administration of the drug.   No more of this though, this is just getting too much.  There is no way children are a threat to the project.  He really should have resigned when he had the chance.  Now they are possibly under attack from a hostile force, and he is trying to keep these people quiet.  Frankly, they seem completely human to him. He’s not even sure how they relate to the project at all. After he closes the door to the cell, he heads back to the main room.  Perhaps he can finally get a chance to eat before Agent Harper gets back and he needs to let him back in.  They had disabled the exterior lock to stay more secure once people started disappearing. He sits down with his sandwich in the seat next to the door and takes a bite. “Where the hell is everyone!?”   Dr. Hampton flinches and swallows, setting his sandwich back in the bag.  Must be Armstrong. Bloody Hell. Suddenly there is a banging against the secured door he is sitting beside, and an angry Armstrong peering through the window.  “Open this damn door. Where are the Agents I left to watch the premises?” Standing, Hampton unlocks the door and steps back.  Armstrong strides imperiously in, followed by two agents carrying an unconscious and bound man. “Agent Armstrong, Sir.  All the teams were called out for support with the roof situation, and Harper just left a moment ago to run a quick patrol and make sure the section doors were secure…” Dr. Hampton trails off as Armstrong spins to face him, his face going even more red if possible. “You are under attack at this location?!  Why didn’t anyone report that before we switched bases?” Hampton blinks, he is definitely not getting paid enough for this.  He just frowns, “Sir, Harper did try to report it to Banks, as you instructed.  He didn’t answer. You said you wanted no direct communication between teams, and it was supposed to be coordinated through Banks. Armstrong is beginning to come loose at the seams. This whole operation, no, this whole entire minging bloody muddle is falling apart around him.  There has got to be a way to salvage this. He runs his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Sure, he had given those orders, but he hadn’t expected everyone to not report to him if they got no answer from Banks! Potter and Murphy have wisely retreated down the hallway to deposit the unconscious Green with the rest of his family.  At least it will be easy to contain them in one location. Armstrong slams the secure door shut and begins pacing while Dr. Harper continues. “The Greens are still in the cell.  No sign of the primary target from what I hear. No side effects from the dosage we have given them - they are all still out from the last dose -  But I won’t be able to dose the baby any further without causing possible damage. “Damage??!”  Armstrong looks like he is about to have a fit. Dr. Harper glances at the clock on the wall and excuses himself quickly, “Ah, I need to check on this latest...thing.  Sir.” He disappears through a side door just as Armstrong collapses into one of the chairs against the wall. Armstrong gathers his emotions back to himself, taps his fingers against his wrist and speaks to the empty room “Alpha and Bravo, report.” Silence. “Alpha and Bravo, report.”  He tries again. Still nothing. “Marks and Iskarak, Report immediately.” Only silence greets him. “Bollocks!”  he yells louder than he should, and he can hear a door close further down the hallway. That damn Doctor is probably hiding. “Harper, Report.” He gets a barely audible “Sir, target sighted, secure hoURCK” before there is no further response. Locking the secure door they had just entered, he runs down the hallway to where the Greens are being held, and locks himself in with them. The woman is beginning to stir - the Doctor must not have dosed them as well as he thought.   He draws his gun...He can just picture the smug bitches’ faces when they find out this all went south.  Dammit, this is not the plan! Maybe he can conceal his presence in here long enough for Evergreen to rush in, then all he’ll have to do is subdue him and he can still pull a win out of this bloody mess.  Armstrong quickly shifts beside the door, and tries to keep an eye on the hallway through the window. What he is not expecting, is an old man to jump on him with a syringe and jab him in the neck, “Take that, you wanker!!  Ruin my birthday!” Agent Armstrong fires his gun in the ensuing struggle and there is a cry of pain when the bullet ricochets off the wall. But surprisingly, the old man gains the upper hand quickly as the drug takes effect, and Paul (the 7th) only staggers a bit to regain his balance when Armstrong falls to the floor unconscious, bleeding a bit from the score of the syringe on his neck. Harry rolls up from his cot, crying. The pain has awoken him from the drug and he holds his arm, blood welling up from between his fingers.  James and Kami were beginning to stir in the background. Paul quickly runs over, “Harry!  I’m so sorry lad, let me help you now...sit here..” He sits his grandson on the closest cot, and examines the wound.  “Looks like it hurts!” Harry just nods and gasps for air, his lower lip trembling and tears rolling down his cheeks as he tries not to cry. “It’ll be ok lad.  Just some shrapnel, no lasting harm done. Here...let me wrap that up for you.” Harry sniffles while his grandfather uses his own overshirt to wrap around the shallow wound on his arm.  Paul pulls it snug and wipes the tears from his face, murmuring softly, “Such a brave lad. Chin up now.”     Abandoned Radcliffe Hospital, Old Molecular Biology Wing, Oxford, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,
11:29pm (2329)
 Kenshin steps into the basement hallway, and his ears catch the sounds of his companion behind him. The distinctive yellow of the man’s tactical goggles catches the dim light of the old LEDs. Kenshin nods at him, and the man nods back. From there, they return to their search. They go through many empty rooms; surgeries, storage, etcetera, before Kenshin’s hand finds a locked door. The handle doesn’t budge, and he makes eye contact with the dark man from across the hall. The man nods, ready, and Kenshin forces it open. Behind it, a man dressed in a lab coat cowers behind a hospital bed. The Battousai is upon him before another noise is made, and soon the man is tied and gagged, being dragged behind them by the long scarf Kenshin’s companion wields as a weapon. It’s nearly ten minutes later when they come to the last door of the sprawling facility, also locked. Kenshin props the doctor on the wall behind them, and this time Scarf kicks open the door. “Blimey!” Paul shouts from behind it, and that’s all Kenshin needs. He bursts in behind Scarf, and his almost glowing golden eyes land on the stirring form of a strange, military man with a broken nose; on the floor beside the open doorway. It takes almost two seconds for the samurai to pick the man up, hold him by the collar against the wall, and have the bladed edge of his sword at the bastards’ throat. “Why shouldn’t I kill you?” The Battousai growls, and Bastard whimpers. “You have five seconds.” “Uncle!” James says, appalled, but Kenshin does not waver. Rage fills his every vein. He watched impassively as a small line of blood chases down his captives throat. Another whimper, this time from Kenny. James covers his son’s eyes. “Don’t look, son.” “There are children here,” his dark haired ally reminds him. “And death is the easy way out; let the courts deal with him.” “Uncle,” Paul emplores. “We’re fine, let him go.” Kenshin’s resolve wavers, and that is all it takes for the man to slide gratefully down the wall. His arm drops, hand shaking at his side, but his sword remains tightly in his grasp. There is a moment of silence, before James sighs in relief. Kenshin’s eyes fade to violet as they settle on the man at his feet, who looks at him with a brand of fear he hasn’t seen in nearly four hundred years. He lifts his sword arm again, and the whole room flinches. “Uncle-” James starts, stepping towards him, but the sword comes down- -knocking the man unconscious with the dull side. “You were lucky today,” Kenshin says to the sleeping man, and he turns to his family. Kami has woken up, and pulls him into a one armed hug, the other clutches Kenny against her side. James isn’t far behind, reaching around to embrace them all, and he feels Harry’s arms wrap around his leg. Kenshin wraps his arms around them, and holds them close. Scarf smiles slightly, the most emotion he’s ever seen from the man, and Paul laughs a bit. Reluctantly, Kenshin lets his family go to check on them. No one has serious injuries. The most serious by far is Harry’s arm and James’ broken fingers, but Harry seems to have forgotten it in the comotion, and it doesn’t seem to need any immediate attention. After Scarf wraps the arm in actual bandages and lets the overshirt fall to the floor, Kenshin lifts the military man, Armstrong as James tells him, over his shoulder. “What will you do with him?” His companion asks him. It was more of a subtle reminder; don’t kill him. Kenshin smiled at the man, patting Armstrong on the leg. “This one will be taking our friend to talk with his boss.” Kenshin said. The tired man shrugs and leans against the wall, pulling out a very familiar looking pouch from somewhere on his person, and he lifts it to his lips. “Oro?!” Kenshin exclaimed in surprise as the man suddenly fades away, “The yellow Banilla!” The old samurai huffed, watching helplessly as his ally fades from view. Already gone! Now how was he meant to get answers?  “Where-? How did he..?” James stuttered, and Kami, baby in arms, sympathetically patted him on the back.    
Emergency Incident Centre, London MI5 Offices, New Building, United Kingdom, June 2nd, 2155

1:05am (0105)
 “Director, what do you mean we have to mobilize?” Board member Sterns demanded, his image flickering. “So what if Armstrong practically defected? Simply send the team to apprehend him and his men-” “Sterns,” Llewellyn growled at him, “You aren’t listening. The man that Armstrong targeted could very well dismantle our government if he felt like it. He has lived in peace with us for the few hundred years he’s been here but Armstrong’s actions-” “Hundred years?” Stearns spluttered. Board member Atwell spoke up. “Director?” Llewellyn swung to face Atwell's hologram, wishing (not for the first time) that the members were actually present to receive a good beating, when their blue images disappeared from around her. Blinking in the sudden darkness of the council room, her gun now in her hand, she points it at the first noise she hears. The lights come on again, and she saw that her guards too had their guns pointed at the daunting figure of the very man she’d just been talking about. Swung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, was Armstrong. Evergreen begins the walk towards her, across the carpeted floor, and the guns of her guards follow him. She quickly raises her hand to the guards hoping to prevent any further incident. He drops the-thankfully-just-unconscious Armstrong at her feet with a limp thud. Her eyes flew from the floor to meet the violet eyes of legend. “I do not trust you, ” the man said, quietly, and some of the guards lean closer to hear. “But I trust that this will not happen again.” The lights flicker once more, and the Battousai is gone. “Lower your weapons,” She says. “And get me Simmons.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

MI5, Oxford Research and Observation Office, June 7th, 2155,

Morning
 
Senior Agent in Charge Simmons smoothed her suit jacket, and tucked her hair neatly behind one ear.

Perfect.

Stepping into the boardroom she turned and walked briskly to the head of the table, and everyone took their places.  
 
The meeting was quickly brought to order, but Simmons still speaks a

bit

quietly, subconsciously causing those around the table to lean forward to hear what she was saying.  “First off, I want to thank all of you for your hard work this last week. I know it has been a difficult and sudden adjustment for some of us, and there are a few who will not be returning to this office at all.  I do hope that I can expect quality from all of you, and that if you have a concern, you will bring it to my attention, or to the attention of your chain of command. Do any of you have a concern you wish to raise now, before we get started?”  
 
A few of them shift in their chairs or glance at their fellows, but none speak.
 
“Very well then,” Simmons continues, “First order, Project Evergreen, also known as Willow, is being...reassigned.  The project team will be broken into other projects, so if you have any personnel preferences please get them onto my desk by this afternoon.  There will be no contact with Evergreen or the associates of that project without strict permission from me, and verification of that permission from the Director.”
 
She meets each of their eyes in turn, lingering briefly on Senior Agent Banks who lowers his eyes to the table and his still bandaged hand, his expression tight.
 
“I will

personally

see to it that anyone who disobeys this order is permanently re-assigned to the Antarctic research base - if you survive.  Am I understood?”
 
A muted chorus of “Yes” and “Yes Sir” answers her, and Banks looks back up, meeting her gaze clearly. He nods once, and she turns her attention back to the group.
  
Oxford, England, St. Leonard’s Churchyard, June, 7th, 2155,

Morning
 
Dejectedly he sat on the stone bench, head in his hands.  The sun was shining, birds singing, but today was not a happy day.  It had been a very long time since he had felt this torn in his purpose, in his care of others.  It had also been a long time since he had last sat on this bench, in the early summer sunlight.
 
“Happy Birthday, Henry.”  Kenshin murmured, lifting his violet gaze to the weathered headstone across from him.  The smoke from the incense he had lit curled upward in the cool morning air. “I need…” he stopped, started again, “I wish you were here to give me advice.  I miss our discussions, our letters.”
 
He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, and running his hands through his hair - a habit he had never been able to break, and clasping them momentarily behind his neck while gazing at the ground. “I just...They could all

have died

Henry.  They could have died and

it would have been my fault

.”  His voice cracks a bit and he falls silent.
 
For a short while there is only birdsong, and then he can hear someone coming up the path.  Taking a deep breath he sits up, meeting eyes with Paul, who’s recent birthday had been so eventful.  The guilt settles into his gut even further, pain flashing across his face more openly than usual.
 
“Uncle,”  the older appearing man murmurs as he creaks into the seat beside Kenshin, setting his cane to one side. “I thought I might find you here.”
 
“I felt I should...speak with him.”
 
“I know.”
 
They fall into companionable silence for a while.  Kenshin slowly begins to relax, the tension partially lifting from his shoulders.
 
“I am so very sorry.” Kenshin almost whispers, “If I had even the slightest idea they would go after the family, I would have left long ago.”
 
Paul tenses up, “Left?  What do you mean? You are a part of this family, Himura Kenshin, and we would not have it any other way.”  He rests one hand on Kenshin’s shoulder in reassurance.
 
Kenshin looks up, meeting Paul’s gaze with questioning eyes. “Would you still have said so, if it had cost lives?”
 
Paul sighs and pats his shoulder, “You know I cannot answer that, Uncle.  I do think though, that it is time to tell them.”
 
“Tell whom?”
 
“The rest of our family, Uncle.  Not just myself as the eldest - All of us.”
 
Kenshin frowns slightly, his voice gaining strength and conviction, “You know why we decided just to tell the eldest.  It’s a hard tale to believe, and a difficult secret to keep. You’ve seen what happens when others find out. First hand!”
 
Paul flashes a grin, briefly looking like his namesake, “Don’t you think that’s why they deserve to know?”
 
Glancing back over at Henry’s grave, Kenshin falls silent, lost in thought.

Is this your way of answering my questions, old friend?

Eventually, Kenshin stands, reaching out to offer a hand to his companion, and nods, “Very well.”
  
Oxford, Kenshin’s Flat, United Kingdom, August 1st, 2155

Late Evening
 
“So…”, Kami was obviously having trouble wrapping her mind around all this.  After all, she had just married into the family, she hadn’t grown up with it. “... You are...invulnerable?  Everything just heals?”
 
“Well, no?  I mean, I do not know.  I think I could be killed.” Kenshin shifted a bit uncomfortably.  It was so much easier to address a class of students or a board of professors than his own family.  He glanced at the light on the jammer he had placed on the table before this discussion, making sure it was still on.
 
“And you served in the war with Great great great…”, James was trying to count back generations on his fingers, eventually giving up,  “With Henry Green, the painter? The one in the Navy?”
 
“And his son, yes.”
 
“You knew about this the whole time and said nothing?”  James suddenly confronts his father, and Paul looks up.
 
“I did.  Long ago, the family and Kenshin decided that only the eldest would know the truth, and make it easier to keep the secret.  I have contacts with the government, as my Mother did, and they and we help provide a new identity for Uncle Kenny every 40 years or so.”
 
“So why tell us now?”  Kami asks, adjusting a sleeping Kenneth the 1st in her arms, Harry well occupied in the other room playing video games.
 
“My existence as part of the family... “ He trailed off, frowned, and then looked up, meeting her eyes. “I had wanted to protect you.  To watch over the family of my dear friend, my Family, as long as I could. As a secret it was easier, since I do not know why I have lived so long or when that might end.”
 
Exhaling, he looked at them each in turn, “But I have become a danger to you.  My existence and help was not enough to keep you safe, and in fact it caused you harm.  I - I do not want anything to happen to you on my account.”

There are already enough marks against me.

His eyes flashed with sadness as he looked at the sleeping child, named after

him

, or at least who he had been trying to be, and then down at the floor. “We need to decide what to do from here.”
 
“But weren’t those men from the Government?  The same one that is supposed to be helping?” James asks.
 
Kenshin nods, turning his attention to James, “Yes.  Which is why I want to include you all in this discussion.  Why Paul thought it best - “, he glances at his older nephew, “- to include your thoughts.  I do not think it will happen again, but then, I did not think it would happen the first time.”
 
“I think you should stay.” Paul speaks up.
 
James looks at his father, and then over at his sleeping son and his wife.
 
Kenshin just waits while James gathers his thoughts, glancing between him and Kami.
 
“I

want

to say that I think you should stay.” He lowers his eyes to the ground, conflict in his expression, “But I also think that you being so close to us could have gotten us all killed.”
 
“James!”  Paul interjects. “He’s the one who got us out!”
 
“You’re the one that got us out!  You stabbed that monster with the needle!” James calls out, too loudly.  Kenneth, startled awake, scrunches up his face and begins to cry a bit fussily.
 
“Shhh, shh, back to sleep with you…”  Kami gives her husband a reproachful glance and rocks her child, trying to calm him back to slumber.
 
James glances at her and Kenneth with a wince of apology, and then continues in a quieter tone, “I understand and appreciate all you have done for our family...and I love having you as my Uncle, and I know that Harry enjoys your company -”  he exhaled a long sigh, “I just...I don’t want to ever be in that position again.” His hands are trembling, memories flashing across his face.
 
Kenshin is familiar with trauma, and knows its effects.  
 
He looks up from his nephew’s trembling hands and scans each of their faces before responding, “I do not ever want you or anyone else to have to go through such things again.  I will stay for a while longer, and see how things go, but I think it perhaps best I take a step back from -”
 
Paul starts to interject and Kenshin raises a hand, halting his words, “Hear me out.”
 
Paul frowns and presses his lips silently together, his objection obvious on his face.
 
“ - I will take a step back and watch more from a distance.  If you wish me to visit, you will need to let me know. If you have something you need me to deal with, you will have to let me know.”  Kenshin raises his violet eyes to Paul and then looks over to James, “You all know how to contact me...if you want me there.”
 
Paul still looks as if he objects to the whole thing, but he remains silent.  James and Kami nod. Kami halfway smiles at Kenshin, and quietly speaks, “Harry will miss you around.  Please come at least to birthdays?”
 
Kenshin just looks back at the ground and nods, schooling his face into an impassive mask.
  
Oxford, Lecture Hall, August 16, 2158

Mid-Afternoon
 
Kenshin finishes cleaning the board, preferring old fashioned white boards or chalk to the more modern touch boards available elsewhere on campus.  After finishing he walks over and sits at his desk, surveying the empty seats. He hasn’t seen any of the Green family for a while, but Paul had called to invite him to Kenneth the 1st’s birthday party that evening.  
 
Ironic that the child who was named after him, wouldn’t really know him other than as a fellow who visited once a year.  That is if they kept inviting him to visit. James had stopped calling entirely. If only it was as easy to stop caring as it was to stop visiting.
 
With a sigh he stood, and gathering his keys and phone, locked up the room and began the walk to the station.  Although if he had learned anything in his thus far long life, it was that everyone he cared for eventually passed out of his life, one way or another.
 
Flashing his pass, he boarded the train, and took a seat facing the front.  A young woman with bright purple hair sat next to him, messing with her phone.  She kept taking her headphones out and putting them back in, as if there were some sort of problem with them.  
 
About three stations later she mumbled a curse and looked up, shoving her headphones in her pocket.  “Do you mind if I watch this with the sound on? My headphones died.” She lifted her phone, showing him a paused newscast.
 
“It doesn’t bother me.  Feel free.” He replied.
 
She smiled and rewound the video to the beginning, starting it up again. The tinny speakers of her phone burst to life as she raised the volume.
 
     “...bring you this breaking story from China, where a newborn baby was discovered to glow in the dark.  So far it does not seem to be any type of radiation, and does not seem to be causing any harm to the child.  Mark, is it true that doctors have already confirmed that this is not some sort of elaborate hoax?”
 
“That’s right Anne, this has been confirmed by doctors both with the League of Nations as well as from the US, Germany, France, and China.   The glowing appears to be some sort of natural phenomenon, but as yet, they are unsure what could be causing the effect.”
 
“That’s truly amazing Mark!  Perhaps it is the sign of more amazing things to come.  We will keep you up to date on this story as well as more, on the nines.”
 
Kenshin can’t help but watch the story along with his violet haired companion, and is somewhat disappointed when she gets up to leave the train at her stop.

Glowing babies.  The world just keeps getting more interesting.

Oxford, West Lecture Hall, April 27, 2183

Early-Afternoon
 
Professor Himura (actually going by his own name this time around) finished grading his last batch of essays on the Expansion of Imperialism during the 15-1900s, ran his fingers through his hair and looked up, scanning the empty classroom.  The late spring sunshine through the windows made dust motes dance in the air. Glancing up at the clock, he realized it was already much later than he had thought, and he wasn’t going to have time for lunch before his next lecture. He had just looked down and started pulling out the drawer of his desk,

perhaps I have cup noodles or something

, when he heard the creak of the doors at the top of the hall.  
 
One of his students, Caroline Marchent, a quiet, spiky brown haired, and moderately pretty girl, was peering into his classroom.  She noticed him at his desk and slips the rest of the way inside, hesitating a bit as the door shut behind her. “Professor?” she paused, and spoke a little louder, “Professor can I speak to you a moment?”
 
“If you don’t mind my eating while we talk.”  He smiled at her to take the possible sting from his words, and pulled a bag of crisps from his desk drawer as she walked toward the front of the room.  He popped the bag open as she hovered in front of his desk. “What can I help you with?”
 
She smiled hesitantly and pulled a chair over to face him, sitting down.  “I wanted to ask if there is anything I can do to improve my grade for the semester.  I know we are almost to exams, and that I was out for almost two weeks of class, but I really do have a good reason!”
 
He lifted one eyebrow skeptically and popped some chips in his mouth, waiting.
 
After a moment of silence, she continued, “Well..maybe not a

really

good reason, but I do have reasons, I mean, it’s embarrassing sometimes....  I have already finished all of the work for those weeks, but since you have a policy of not accepting late work…”  She trailed off expectantly.
 
“What is?” he asked, picking through the bag of crisps for one that was folded over - those always had the most flavor.
 
“What is what?”
 
He shifted his attention to her patiently, “What is embarrassing?  So embarrassing that you couldn’t be in class for two weeks?” Another couple of crisps were eaten while she hesitated uncomfortably.
 
“So - turns out I’m venomous?” she kind-of half chuckled, with no real mirth.
 
Kenshin blinked, it was still somewhat uncommon to have those with quirks in his classes, uncommon enough that he hadn’t even realized she had one, “Venomous?  Like a snake?”
 
She flushed and stuttered, “N.no...just, my spines.” She lifts her hands to her head, and pulling some of her locks aside reveals thin short spines concealed mostly in her hair. “So, he startled me, and ah... I shoot them when grabbed from behind in the dark?”  She winced.
 
He lifted one hand,

really

not wanting to know the particulars of that situation, “And so you were out for two weeks?”
 
She continued, words tumbling over each other from her mouth, “So...yeah, he didn’t think it was anything but a bad sting, you know, but by the next day he had a fever, and so we went to the hospital, and - I’m venomous.  Not all the time! But when startled I guess I release venom into the spines reflexively? I just...they had to find the anti-venom, and he was in a bad way, so I stayed mostly with him.”
 
Kenshin was surprised she hadn’t needed to take a breath in the middle of all that. “I see.”
 
“So - any chance I can turn in that work? I really did do it on time, you can check the date stamps if you want?” She watched him hopefully, her hands clasped dramatically in pleading fashion in front of her.
 
Glancing at her hands, his lips twitched a bit at her earnest expression. “I can see how that was out of your control...so I will allow it this time.”
 
“THANK YOU!” She burst out and jumped from her chair, then sat again , “Um, Thank you professor!”  She practically vibrated.
 “If you take another class from me however, I expect you to get your work in on time.  You can even send it to me digitally if that is easier.” He smiled at her and waved her off, “I need to get back to these papers. Just have everything in my box before tonight.” 
She stood and almost ran up the aisle, “Thanks again professor!”  She waved again and slipped out the door.
 
Kenshin grinned at the door as it swung shut and sat back in his seat, enjoying the sunshine coming through the windows and the flavor of his crisps.  So excitable, these children. He finished his bag of chips, tossed the empty bag into his recycle bin and looking at the time, decided to go ahead and change the board to the next class.  His students would be trickling in soon.
  
Kenshin’s New Loft, July 9th, 2183,

Early Evening
 
Kenshin stood on his balcony, the breeze rustling the leaves on the trees in the center courtyard, and the clouds scuttling across the blue sky.  It was a surprisingly nice day. It had rained a bit earlier in the week, and the evening was pleasantly scented with flowers which bloomed on his neighbor's patio.  
 
He wasn’t expecting anyone.  He didn’t have anyone to expect these days.  The last time he had visited with the Greens was at Paul’s funeral, and that was a few years ago.  None of them had contacted him since. His latest identity papers had just been sent by mail, not even a letter accompanying them.  
 
He occasionally would check up on the family, watching from a distance.  Just to make sure they seemed happy, or at least content. He couldn’t bring himself to speak with them though.  James had made his feelings clear. And he had to respect their wishes. Not even Harry had reached out, although Kenshin thought he might after Harry left to attend Cambridge.  Kenshin had even avoided moving for a few years, just in case...but here he was now - new flat, new neighbors, new ID.
 
He poured himself a cup of plum wine and set the bottle on the side table.  He sipped it more slowly than usual. Trying to enjoy the solitude.

Perhaps I should get a cat.  I could name it Mochi...the 37th.

It was with some surprise that he heard knocking.  He glanced back through his apartment to the front door.

Probably someone for the neighbors, or a delivery person got lost.

He downed the last of his glass of wine, and set it beside the bottle.
 
Even more surprising, whoever it was knocked again after a moment, when he didn’t immediately answer.  
 
Curious now, he left his wine forgotten and went back through his home to the door.  Opening it, the first thing he noticed was it wasn’t just one person, it was many in the narrow corridor.  The second thing he noticed was the chocolate cake. He blinked.

Oh

.
 
He smoothed his expression and considered the middle aged man blocking most of the rest of his view with the cake.
 
“So...Mr. Himura.  Do you remember me?”  The man smiled tentatively. “Or should I say, Professor Green?”
 
With a shock, Kenshin realized that he did recognize him - or his voice at least, “Oro! Daniel?”  You work with….” he paused, his attention immediately going to the man who finally had come fully into view behind Daniel, and felt that shot of disbelief all over again, “Oro!  Harry? What...why?” He had temporarily lost the ability to make coherent sentences. Unfortunate, considering his profession given that he needed to speak regularly.
 
Daniel, who had smiled when his old professor recognized him after all, tried to help him out. “We can explain everything, but it would be easier inside?”
 
Feeling surprisingly numb, Kenshin still had years as an “Englishman” to fall back on, and so promptly stood aside, “Of course, please come in.  I’ll get - “ he glanced at the cake again as Daniel walked past him, “some plates.”
 
Harry smiled halfway at Kenshin as he stepped past, “Hi Uncle. It’s been a while.  He gestured behind him at the younger Green and a young woman who was with them, “Do you remember Kenny?”
 
Kenshin blinked, incredulous but thrilled to see them again, finally, and in his home! “Harry, how could I forget any of you?”  he smiled warmly at Kenneth the 1st, and the mystery woman, “Although, you have grown a bit since we last spoke.”
 
Kenny nervously smiled, and put a fond arm around the beautiful asian woman beside him, “This is my wife, Yukiko.”  
 
Her brown eyes sparkled as she watched him get plates from the cupboard, “I know we haven’t met, but I wanted to meet you since Harry tells such wonderful stories.” Her voice was smooth and held an overtone of curiosity.
 
They all sat at his table, and Daniel had taken the lid off of the cake and sat as well.
 
“Harry, and young Kenny -” Kenshin flashed a grin of pure joy as he passed out plates and set a knife near the cake.  He also looked over at Daniel and regarded them all questioningly, “I am very pleased to see you, but - why, I mean, how is it you are here?  James made it clear he wanted no contact…” He trailed off as their faces sobered, and Kenny looked almost as if he might cry.
 
Kenshin took in their mood immediately, and shifted his weight, poised to spring into action if needed, “What has happened?”
 
Harry just shook his head, and after Daniel glanced at Yukiko who was comforting her new husband, he turned to answer, “There was an accident in traffic about a week ago.  James and Kami - they didn’t make it, Professor.”
 
Kenshin felt his face drain of blood and he sat.

How could he not have known this?  He had been trying to keep track of everyone from a distance, but James…

“Was anyone else -?” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the question, and felt the conflicting feelings within him.  He was terribly sad that James and Kami had died, but also, he had some hope, and felt

terrible

for having hope with the boys here, in his home.
 
Kenneth spoke up, “No Uncle, they were in the car by themselves.”  His voice was a bit rough with unshed tears. “Father had, he was actually -”
 
Yukiko spoke up for him, “He was coming here, to invite you to our reception.” She half smiled, “He said he had held a grudge for long enough, and it was time for family to be together.”
 
Kenshin felt the tears come unbidden, and he lowered his face, closing his stinging eyes.

James, after so much time?  Why not sooner? I would have come back anytime you asked.

Daniel stepped in then, quietly, “James was the only one who had known your current address, and so they contacted us - I mean, MI5 to get back in touch with you.”

So that

was why he was with them. “Ah,

cake.”

It wasn’t the time for it, but Kenshin couldn’t help but think that young Daniel had grown up more neat and clean cut then Kenshin had expected. This middle aged Agent at his table was certainly that, and much more certain of himself, than young Daniel had seemed.
 
Kenshin tried to lighten the mood a bit, wiping his eyes he half smiled at his nephew, “Harry, I am surprised you contacted them after your experiences with the - I mean, breaking Agent’s noses and all.”
 
Harry snorted a laugh, “Well you know me, I won’t take things sitting down. And well, we missed you, Uncle.”  He titled his head a bit, momentarily surprised, “You know, you look exactly like I remember you.”
 
Kenny the younger smiled also, recovering a bit of his composure, “We had to honor his last wish.”
 
“Excuse me,” Yukiko interrupted, “but why did you say, ‘Ah cake?”
 
“Oro?” Kenshin laughed,  “Sorry, it’s just that they always bring cake.  Chocolate, usually.”
 
Daniel looked sheepish, “We weren’t sure if you would recognize me after so long.  I mean, we have been trying to stay out of your way, and your file said to bring an offering…” he trailed off.
 
Henry looked curious now, “Is that why you had chocolate cake at your house so often?”
 
Kenneth just looked lost.
 
“Hmm, I suppose?  Agents came by more often those days.”  Kenshin flashed a grin at Daniel, trying to take the sting out of his words.
 
“An offering?”  Yukiko looked somewhat nervous, “Your Uncle is a spirit?” She questioned her husband under her breath, who still looked lost.
 
“Honestly love, I have no idea what they are talking about.” Kenny grinned and stood up, and taking the knife, began to cut the cake and pass it out to everyone.
 
“I’m just myself, dear Meisan.” Kenshin quickly answered, and lifted his fork, determined to enjoy this time with his Family.
  
Oxford, Train Station nearest to West Lecture Hall, September 4th, 2183

Mid-Morning
 
Kenshin was looking forward to class today.  He straightened his sword belt over his blue yakima, and considered himself in the mirror.  Leaning forward, he was pleased to see that he had a few white hairs mixed in with the red, and there were almost invisible lines around his eyes.  At least he could confirm he was actually aging!

Damn yellow pouch!

He sighed and went back to considering his overall appearance. It was somewhat eerie to see himself like this, but he thought it helped to try to introduce his students to traditional Japanese with well, some Tradition. He picked up his lunch from the counter and hurried to the station.
 
It was a beautiful day!  Only a little bit of chill in the air, and the clouds were low, but the leaves were starting to turn and the breeze was lovely.  Kenshin boards his usual train, and recognizes one of his former students across the car as he sits down. Caroline Marchent also recognizes him, and with a grin she waves, although she doesn't take her ear-buds out.  Kenshin can tell she is listening to music, because over the course of the ride she occasionally mouths words and bobs her short spiky hair or feet along with the beat.
 
Caroline exits the train first when they arrive at the station, and heads toward the bus terminal and the crosswalk to campus.  Kenshin walks more slowly, waving at those he knows and smiling to himself at the odd looks his clothing receives. The 9:00 bus arrives near the pedestrian crossing, and begins to disgorge its load of students headed toward campus, along with the usual businessmen and women who start off in other directions.  Kenshin pauses for a moment when he notices the light turn, waiting for the signal to walk.
 
Caroline, bopping along to her music, keeps walking around the bus stop, and steps forward along the pedestrian crossing to campus.  
 
It was Kenshin who notices the car speed around the parked bus, impatient to get on it’s way, and his mind and body have sprung into action before his words could find a way to warn Caroline what was about to hit her.
 
She looked up in time to see the car about to run her over, absolute horror on the driver’s face.  In fear her spines shoot out, just as she feels herself hit from behind and pushed out of the way.
 
Kenshin and the vehicle meet with a crash of metal and a heavy thud, and he rolls a short way before he stops, facing up at the sky and lying on the pavement.

Itai!

he thought to himself, coughing and trying in vain to catch the breath which had been forced from him.

Ow, getting hit by cars hurt!

Caroline pulls herself up from where she fell, and quickly runs over to his side, “Professor!  How did you..! Are you hurt??!”
 
Kenshin tries to reassure her and sit up, but he can feel his ribs grinding in his side, and that awakens the yell of his other injuries to his mind.  Bollocks, it’s been a while since he’s broken so many bones at once. The last time was when he fell from a tree trying to retrieve someone’s cat. He lifts his un-broken arm, trying to conceal that the other is still almost useless at the moment, and pats her reassuringly on the shoulder. “I’m ok..just a few scrapes!”
 
Forcing himself to sit up once he thinks his ribs have at least started knitting back together, he coughs again, and notices the small porcupine-like spine lodged in his arm.  He plucks it free with some amusement -

guess she had been telling the truth

- and cracks his neck to loosen it back up.
 
Caroline looks like she might pass out or burst into tears, and sits down roughly next to him where she had been crouching, “I’m so sorry Professor!  Oh no!” She hesitantly reaches out and plucks another of her spines from the side of his face, then she really does burst into tears.
 
“Ahhhh! Don’t do that!  You could have a neck injury!”  The driver of the vehicle is hopping around in the background, a scrape on his face seemingly the only injury.  
 
“I’ve called an ambulance.  Just stay still?” A woman says from behind him.  
 
He gratefully feels his arm snap back into place about 5 or 6 minutes later, at the same time the ambulance arrives.
 
“Do not worry, Miss Marchent, I am alright, see?  He shows her his arm that he had been concealing, where a moment before the bone had been sticking out of his skin.  He was both a bit sad and happy to see it was healing nicely, and she stared in awe as the wound closed over completely and looked as if it had been already healing for a week or longer.  
 
Standing with only a wince, he greets the startled ambulance personnel with a small bow as they run over, “I am alright!  Please do not worry.”
 
“But what about the venom?!”  Caroline bursts out as one of the paramedics begins looking him over, trying to figure out where the blood both on him and on the ground came from.  The other turns to the driver of the vehicle who his holding his head and muttering about impossibilities.
 
“Miss Marchent, I will be fine!  I heal very quickly. I will probably only have a headache at worst from your venom, after all, I am Asian!”
 
Then he blinks, “Oro! I am late for class!”
 
----
 
Later that day, Senior Agent Daniel Radcliffe IV stood in front of Director Simmons' desk, and watched her review the footage of the incident.  He grinned back at her when she looked up, “Either he’s immortal, or he had a quirk before quirks were a thing.”
 
Simmons laughs, “Well, seems it doesn’t matter either way.  Good to see that all the rumors of his healing prowess were valid though.  Make a note in the file? “ she considered, “You know, he really could be a god, and we would probably never know.  I’m glad he’s been here though - how high is the count now?” she met Daniel’s gaze questioningly.
 
“Of those he’s saved? Hmm, over a hundred now I think.  Although spread out over the last few years. Seems it picked up a bit when he had that fall out with the Greens.”
 
Simmons smiled to herself, watching the footage again, “Good, I’m glad he’s doing well.”
  
Kenshin’s Loft, Roof, July 27th, 2204,

Late Afternoon
 
“Thank you again for letting us crash your home for Kenny’s birthday party.  He’s having a blast!” Yukiko smiled at him warmly from behind her large sunglasses, lounging comfortably on the deck chair beside her husband, who was nursing his third beer.  “He doesn’t get the chance to swim often.“ she had turned her attention to the youngest member of the Greens and his 3 friends, who were splashing each other in the pool. The radio played something peppy in the background.
 
Kenshin’s complex had installed the rooftop pool and lounge area only a couple of years before, and he had rented it out for a few hours.  Thankfully the weather had cooperated, and Kenshin was able to enjoy the rooftop with his family.
 
“How is your new job going?”  Harry asked, as he sat down beside Kenshin, handing him a cold mixed drink.  
 
“Not bad - I was unsure how different it would be to teach young children, but I admit I am having fun.”  He recently had assumed a new identity as Paul Kenshin Green, since his appearance after the car accident had unfortunately regressed so far.  His now “21” year old self was teaching english and history at a local international primary and secondary school.
 
“I have learned a lot of interesting slang Japanese and French as well, although I’m not sure how much of that is common use, and how much is just children making up their own ways to communicate.” He flashed a grin at Harry, who smiled back.
 
The music stopped suddenly in the middle of a song, and the tone for a breaking newscast played, “We interrupt your regular programming to bring you this news alert.  Quirk Wars and infighting have now broken out over most of East Asia, as countries fight to bring order to their populace. Those with quirks are swiftly becoming the majority in many areas, and this has caused unrest in some cases.  In Tokyo, Japan, where the quirk rate has risen to just over 55% of the population, the quirk registration commission headquarters was recently overrun by citizens declaring themselves “The Purist Army”. We will bring you more on this developing story as it is available, but for now, we will return to your regularly scheduled programming.  The music resumed.
 
Kenshin sighed,

It seems my homeland is once again at war, only this time with itself.

Kenny the 1st murmured something to his wife, then stood up after checking his watch, “Ok boys!” he called out, “Time for cake!”
 
They wandered over to the covered area, and sat at the table.  Kenneth the 1st uncovered the cake while the boys wrapped themselves in towels and joined them in the open seats.  Harry lit the candles, and they all sang Happy Birthday to Kenny the 2nd, who was turning 5.
 
After cake was presents, and Kenny gave Kenshin a big hug at his gift of a Bokken, at which Harry smiled reminiscently.  Kenny quickly ran over to show his friends, and of course Kenshin got out some practice blades and some padded armor for the boys, and they ran around trying to hit each other for a while.
 
After parents had come to collect their children, and it was just Kenshin and the Greens on the roof, Yukiko turned to Kenshin with more questions. “Uncle Kenshin, When...I mean, how long have you been watching over the Greens?”
 
“Hmm,” Kenshin thought, “A very long time!” He was about to tally up the years when Kenny ran over and flopped tiredly in his lap.
 
“Thank you Uncle Kenshin, I love the sword!” His green eyed, 5 year old nephew grabbed his face, turning it to look at him instead of his mother and smiled, “It’s like the one in your mind pictures!”
 
“Don’t go making up stories, Kenny.  It’s not nice.” his mother reprimanded. “His teacher said he’s been making up all sorts of tales about his classmates.”
 
“I’m not making them up!” Kenny insisted, and turned his eyes to Kenshin again, his hands still grasping either side of his face, “Some of Uncle’s pictures are very sad.  And people wear funny clothes!”
 
“Kenneth!” his father interjected.
 
But Kenshin raised a hand to stop him, and continued looking at the boy with curiosity, “What pictures do you see now child?” Kenshin asked him softly, thinking of Henry Green painting a stream for him, so many years before.
 
The boy tilted his head to the side and smiled at his Uncle, “I see a pretty forest, and a man painting near a stream.  You’re wearing the sword pants like you do when you practice, and you are watching him. Who is he?”
 
Kenshin closed his eyes for a moment, stinging a bit with tears at the reminder of that memory,  still sweet after all this time. “His name was Henry, and he was my friend.”
  
Oxford International School, Classroom 4, June 10th, 2231

Late-Afternoon
 
“So who can tell me about a current event that is of international concern?”  Kenshin asked in English to his 8th year international students. They had already packed up their books for the day, and he wanted to make sure they remembered the vocabulary for the week.  They were working on conversational speaking and current events at the same time.
 
One of his students, a delicate boy with a quirk that made his hair change color with his mood, raises a hand.  
 
“Yes, Mr.
Janvier
, go ahead.”
 
“Well I heard that they have declared the Quirk Wars officially over after twenty-four years in Asia and twenty in Europe, since the last country that had non-regulated quirks has joined the international community to also regulate...quirks.”
 
“Very good Piere, excellent use of vocabulary.  You might want to think out the entire phrase before you begin speaking though.  What do you think that means for us, here in England, or in other countries, if we are not citizens?”
 
A few of his students raised hands.
 
Ignoring those who had already answered earlier in the discussion, Kenshin singles out a boy with bleached blond hair in the back row, who was staring out the window. “Mr. Yamamoto, what do you think?”
 
The boy quickly looked back to the class and licked his lips, trying to formulate his answer outside of his native language, “We will probably need more documents or a license, or a card to register our abilities when we travel?”
 
Sara Marchent (coincidentally related to a woman he saved once) and with similar spiky hair, insistently kept her hand in the air throughout the answer.
 
“Yes, Ms. Marchent?”
 
“Some countries already require all citizens to register their quirks, and provide services to schools and medical facilities to help with quirk related problems.  In America, you have to disclose your quirk in order to travel there from other countries, or even to get a hotel or housing. It also may be harder or easier to get citizenship depending on the quirk.”  She announced clearly. The boy sitting next to her rolled his eyes at her smart reply, making his deskmate snicker.
 
“What problems can that cause?” Kenshin continued, tapping the boys desk and shooting them a warning glance.  He was about to point out another student to answer when the chime signaled the end of school. Kenshin smiled as his students immediately fidgeted in their seats, anxious to get out and to the weekend.
 
“You are excused!  Do not forget your homework!”
 
Mr. Kenshin Green smiled to himself as his last student ran out the door, and he turned to grab his own things before locking up.  Perhaps it was time to move on to another place soon. He had been teaching at this school for a long time, and people were beginning to notice he didn’t look like the others his ‘age’.  Tabling that thought for now, he glanced at his watch. If he hurried, he could still make it to the station before the next train left. He was supposed to meet Kenny (the second!) for drinks that evening.  
 
He jogged across the school grounds, and vaulted the back gate without losing his stride. Luck was not on his side however, as he rounded the lane he could see the train pulling out of the station.  With a groan he slowed to a walk, easily catching his breath and mentally reorganizing his evening due to the missed train. He was about to pull out his phone to text Kenny that he would be late, when there was an ominous roll of thunder. The darkened sky chose that moment to open up, and within moments Kenshin was soaked.
 
With a sigh, Kenshin took shelter under the nearest shop doorway.  After wringing out his shirt and shoulder length hair as well as he could, he slipped inside of the small corner market.  The shopkeeper nodded to him and went back to her magazine. Still dripping a little, he quickly located an umbrella and was debating over ready meals from the freezer, when he heard a harsh voice from the font and the shopkeeper cry out with alarm.  
 
Kenshin quickly slinked over to the side of the isle, keeping himself from view.  He briefly looked out to assess the situation before slipping back behind the shelving.  A scrawny looking teenager in tight jeans, and wearing a mask that covered the top half of his face was leaning over the counter.  He was scooping cash out of the till and stuffing it in his sweatshirt while the shopkeeper stumbled around yelling in obvious pain from the dark substance which had been sprayed on her face.  He seemed to be alone.
 
Springing into action, Kenshin used his newly acquired umbrella to sweep the kid as he ran up beside him. The kid fell sideways, landing roughly against the counter and falling to the ground. from his sweatshirt.  “Bugger off man!” yelled the kid as he kicked with his heavy boots at Kenshin’s knee and then rolled up, spitting something dark and viscous at Kenshin’s face.
 
Jumping to the side Kenshin was very glad of his excellent reflexes.  He avoided the liquid which splashed on the wall behind him, and used the umbrella to strike the teen aside the head.  The teen staggered as he almost lost consciousness, but shook it off and ran forward with a growl. Kenshin followed through with a sidestep and spin, switching his grip to the other end of the umbrella and hitting his attacker with the hard wooden handle as he passed.  The kid crumpled to the ground.
 
Kenshin quickly ran behind the counter and located the alarm button, pushing it to summon assistance. He then turned to calm the shopkeeper who had sunk to the ground and was gasping and crying in pain, hands and face covered in the same tar like substance.  “He’s down. Are you ok?”
 
“It’s in my eyes!  I can’t see!!” She gasped in panic.  “It burns!”
 
“Help is on it’s way. I’ll get something for your face...”  Kenshin wasn’t sure if it would be better to leave it on her or try to wash it off.  Some things reacted badly with water.
 
He pulled out his phone and pushed the emergency call button just in case, and then ran over and pulled a package of paper towels off of the shelf. The teenager was still unconscious on the floor, the bent umbrella fallen next to him and cash spilling out of his sweatshirt.
 
“What is your emergency?” Asked the voice on the line.
 
“We were just attacked by a teenager with a quirk.  Looks like it may be a mild acid or tar like substance that he spits?  He’s knocked out, but the lady here is in a bad way.” Kenshin headed back behind the counter, opening the paper towels.  “I pushed the alarm button for the store, but I wanted to make sure medical personnel are also sent.” He crouched back down next to the trembling woman and tried to wipe some of the dark substance off of her hands.  
 
“Thank you. Please, my eyes, it hurts!”
 
Kenshin wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or the man on the phone.  The operator answers, “Sending them to your location, please leave your phone on until they arrive.  Estimated...3 minutes to arrival.”
 
“Got it, we are standing by.” Kenshin replies.  The woman falls quiet, only whimpering a little and trembling.  He pulls her jacket off the hook it’s hung on behind the counter, and drapes it over her shoulders. “Hey, I’m still here.  Can you tell me your name?” He wrapped her hand around a paper towel. “Here is a napkin if you want to try to wipe your eyes or face. I do not want to make anything worse for you.”
 
“Fatima.” She says, her lips trembling.  Her tears were mixed in with her makeup and the black liquid, causing streaks down her face.  Her skin was red and irritated, beginning to blister, and she didn’t seem able to open her eyes.
 
“I am Kenshin Green, Medical personnel are on their way.  “Are you allergic to anything? On any medications?”
 
She raised her shaking hands to her face, and began to wipe some of the odd substance off with the towel. “No, nothing.” she answered finally, holding out the soiled towel, which Kenshin took from her and tossed in the bin under the counter.  She still didn’t open her eyes, although she seemed to be trying to do so.
 
Kenshin noted the flashing lights against the fogged front windows of the store as the police or security pulled up, “It looks like someone is here now.  Are you doing any better?” Then woman just nodded, still trembling.
 
Standing, he went around the counter and held the door open, rain coming in with the two police officers who had responded.  One of them turned to him to ask what had happened, and the other pointed out the shopkeeper and the unconscious teenager on the floor.
 
He made it about halfway through his explanation before the boy on the floor began to stir.  The teenager had already been bound by one of the responding officers, and thrashed around a bit, cursing them loudly.  He didn’t however seem as inclined to try to use his quirk when so outnumbered. Fatima was ushered out into the ambulance as soon as it arrived, and although one of the medics checked out the teenager, he was escorted off with the police.
 
This left Kenshin completely unsure what to do, since he had already given his contact info in case they needed an additional statement.  He stood in the store doorway, and suddenly realized he didn’t know how to lock up.
 
An hour later, Kenshin had managed to clean up a little, find a key, lock the doors, and turn the lights out.  Unsure what else he could do, and not wanting Fatima to get in trouble, he slid the key under the door.
 
It was only afterwards that he realized he still didn’t have an umbrella, and he had forgotten to text Kenny. A moment later, he discovered he had also locked his phone inside the store.
 
With a sigh, Kenshin trudged back out into the rain, and the rest of the way to the station.
 
--
 
Across the world, in Japan, a woman held her newborn son, “My Toshi!” she smiled, and kissed his little blond head, snuggling him close.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

CHAPTER 12 - I thought that maybe I could find myself 
 
London MI5 Offices, Director’s Office, United Kingdom, June 7th, 2286

11:15am (11:15) 
 
Director Gallagher stood, a bit surprised that it hadn’t been some sort of joke.  The man really did exist after all, and he was standing this very moment in his office.

Brilliant

really.  Amazing that he had been here so long -

documented

- and yet only appeared around his early thirties.  Gallagher repressed the urge to ask about the things in this file, and schooled his face into impassivity.  With a pleasant smile, he rose to greet his guest. “Good Morning, Mr. Himura. It is truly a pleasure to meet you.” He shook Kenshin’s hand and gestured to the seat facing his desk, and then sat as the man sank down into his own seat. “I must admit, I was surprised to receive your request.  It has been years since you’ve come into any of the offices, and this request in particular ...well, suffice it to say, it was unexpected.”
 
Kenshin quirked his lips in a quiet smile, tilting his head slightly at the man facing him and relaxed back into the chair. “It is time.  You have others now who can watch, and protect.”
 
Gallagher slid a memory drive across the desk, as well as a manilla envelope. “Here is what you asked for, a complete copy of your file here; as well as your new papers, under your original name of Kenshin Himura as requested.  The movers will be there tomorrow to collect your household goods. Also -” at this he pulled out a cream envelope of obviously expensive paper, “This is from his Majesty, who wishes you well, and he thanks you again for your service a few years ago to the family.”  
 
Kenshin peeked into the manilla envelope, noticing a passport and other items before he dropped the memory stick inside.  Looking up, he reached across the desk to take the envelope Director Gallagher was offering. His name was hand written in a flowing script on the back, and he noticed the watermark on the paper of Buckingham Palace. “Anyone would have done the same.” He said as he looked back up at the Director. “His Highness just made a few bad choices, so do many of the young.”  Kenshin flashed a smile at the Director and slid the envelope into his jacket pocket. He’d read it later.
 
Standing, Kenshin extended his hand again, and the director shook it. “Goodbye, Director.”
 
“Goodbye, Mr. Himura.  Please know you are welcome to return any time.  We will maintain your citizenship in the records, and you can resume residence if you choose to do so.”
 
Kenshin looked briefly startled, “Oro! Ah, Thank you.  I will keep that in mind.” He grinned genuinely at the man, and then turned to go.
 
Osaka Airport, International Arrivals, June 26th, 2286

7:24am (0747)
 
The first few flights had been wonderful.  
 
Kenshin loved the feeling of flying, and enjoyed watching as the buildings sank out of sight below and the world became small.  He also enjoyed watching those around him. Some nervous, some flustered or busy, others obviously tired or bored. Such a wide range of reactions to the same thing. The novelty of flying had admittedly worn off a bit after his third international flight in as many weeks, and this one was the longest thus far.  
 
He had cut his stay in the United States short.  Despite spending so long in the UK, he had been unprepared for how loud and brash Americans could be, especially after his adventurous trip to France.  Even their heroes seemed over the top, and frankly, there were too many people out using their quirks in public to make the rurouni completely comfortable. He had almost been involved in a few fights without even looking for trouble.  After the latest close call, when he had needed to run from the police and villains alike after stepping in to help someone, he had decided he had seen enough of the US for now, and it was time to go back home.
 
Home.  
 
And now here he was, but it was - so different.  
 
The light of the rising sun reflected sparkling off of the ocean before they had descended and then headed inland. He could see the sprawl of the city as the plane had come in, and when he left the plane and headed into the airport he couldn’t help but feel a conflicting rush of sadness and joy at coming back.
 
He exited with the rush of people, eager to leave the confines of the aircraft.  He grinned momentarily when he realized all the signs and most of the conversations he was hearing were in Japanese.  It really had been...so long. He browsed a bit through the shops on his way to the luggage claim.
 
Finally, he stepped up to the exterior terminal doors after collecting his bags, and with a deep breath he stepped back into the country of his birth.  
 
Riverside Hotel, Nishikyo Ward
, Kyoto, Japan, June 26th, 2286,

3:30pm (1530)
 
After storing his bag in his room, Kenshin couldn’t wait to get back outside.  The train ride had been quiet, with a bit of rain clouding the windows and only breaking back out into sunshine when they got closer to Kyoto.  He left the hotel, and without really making a decision on where to go, took a walk along the riverbank. He couldn’t help but enjoy such a relatively cool day for summertime.  The bamboo grove was still nearby, and some of the buildings, while remodeled and kept up to date, still retained their original charm.  
 
Tomorrow he would head into the city.  He had purchased an atlas of Japan at the airport, and he wanted to try to find where the old dojo had stood.  It had been one of the first places he had truly felt at home, and he needed to lay some ghosts to rest. He had paid for two weeks at the hotel, but he needed to decide what he would do with himself.

‘I’m home, but it is not really home now.  What should I do with my life?’

It was time to move on, do something useful.  Perhaps look at his long life as less of a curse on himself and those around him, and perhaps as a way to do something more, something better. 
 
Sitting on a bench by the riverbank he pulls a paper from his pocket, and carefully unfolds it.  Staring up at him was the farewell gift of Kenshin 2nd, who had provided him with some old memories before he passed on.  He studies the faces of Myōjin Yahiko, Sagara Sanosuke and Kamiya Kaoru smiling up at him, the dojo in the background. Without Kenny’s quirk, he would only have had this image fading in the depths of his memories.  Now he could look at them any time he wanted. Sanosuke had never allowed his picture to be taken, sure that it would steal his soul, but he did have one photo of Kaoru besides the drawings that Kenny had made for him.  He had so many refreshed memories to review. It was truly a gift without price.

‘I will miss Kenny’

, he thought, much as he missed Henry, Kaoru, and the others who populated only his memories now.
 
Carefully he re-folds the paper and returns it to his pocket.  Relaxing into the bench, he enjoys the feel of the late afternoon sunshine and the breeze through the trees, and the sounds of the river and the city.  
 
He was back.  It was different.

I am different.

Riverside Hotel, Nishikyo Ward
, Kyoto, Japan, June 27th, 2286,

11am (1100)
 
Kenshin blearily opened his eyes, and for a moment is completely disoriented. The sun had traveled through the sky far enough to shine through his window, and was now full in his face.  With a groan he rolled away from the sunlight. He could hear the air conditioning unit kick on. The well lit traditional room still had modern touches enough that Kenshin was able to orient his waking mind to his present time and location.  Slowly he stands up from the futon, raising his arms up into a languid stretch, which he drops out of with an exhaled huff. He needs to dress for the day and get moving. The jet lag must have hit him harder than expected, to still be sleeping at nearly mid-day.  He is already late for his plans!
 
He checks his phone for the weather, and pulls out a little used simple red and grey yukata from his luggage and pulls it on. It’s too hot for western clothing!  He pauses for a moment, just taking in the fact that he is back in Japan, and a quiet smile curves over his lips. Wearing traditional clothing and surrounded by the little things that remind him of Japan, he feels more like his

old

self then he has in years. He pulls his hair into a low ponytail at the base of his neck and steps in front of the mirror. 
 
Like a blast from the past, really. Perfect.
 
However, he does cave to some modern convenience, grabbing his shoulder bag and phone charger before leaving his room.  After getting some coffee from the lobby, he stops to send the letter he had written the night before to Kenny the 3rd, and then heads out into the city.
 
After a short visit to the library and a discussion with a helpful historian, he decides to grab something to eat. He has the most wonderful curry he has had in years and shortly is on his way to Shizuoka on the train.  Based on his memories and comparing old maps with his new atlas, the dojo was somewhere near Tokyo.  
 
He is amazed at the sheer variety of people he sees in Japan now.  When he had left, things had been almost insular, but now there appear to be people of every shape and color and nation on the train with him.  He watches with obvious interest as a group of university students board the train at one stop, and he can pick out three or four different languages.  He has a hard time not grinning like an idiot as blond haired, pink eyed girl with curly horns sits across from him in a business suit, texting someone on her phone. He notices a couple other students on the train, and is surprised when they go up and fangirl a bit at the blond woman, saying something about a sports festival. Japan is wonderful!
 
It is early evening by the time he arrives at a small station in Musutafu.  He has transferred trains a few times already. ‘

I should have packed clothes for the night - this is going to take much longer than I anticipated!

‘ Granted his memories of how long it took to travel were skewed from his weeks of wandering, and drinking, and random violence.  His memory really wasn’t the best judge of distance. Or time.
 
There are some traditional looking buildings on the street he walks down, as well as some obviously newer built.  One building he walks by is taped off, a warning sign posted that it is off limits to the public due to villain attack caused damage.  ‘

Are villain attacks really so common?’

He pauses for a while just staring at it, earning a few odd looks from those that pass by.  Realizing he must look out of place, he flushes a bit and continues on his way.  
 
He heads away from the larger streets near the station and into a more residential area, trying to match anything from his memory to his current surroundings.  Eventually he stands and blinks at a cafe that is near a park with a stream. ‘

I think.

.

this is...near where the main town was

.

Yes.  There was the old restaurant - now an apartment building.  So if I turn at the road here…’

A short walk later, and he is staring in stunned surprise at a traditional building of two stories surrounded on both sides by taller new buildings. The lights inside on the ground floor are on as the light outside fades, and he can see people through the windows practicing martial arts.  The instructor, a woman with brown hair pulled back from her face, easily sidesteps and throws one man onto the mat, and then helps him up to try his attack again. Two of the other students face off with practice blades further back in the building.  
 
He lifts his eyes to the sign above the doorway.  It reads Myōjin
dojo. Shock sinks into his chest and he shivers as he tries to bring what he is seeing into his reality. ‘

But that...it’s impossible.  He died in the fire..?!’

He can’t help but slip inside, and he is greeted with a cheerful hello and a welcoming bow by a girl that appears in her early teens. “Are you here to practice? Or just to watch?”
 
“To watch please, I just wanted...I am out of practice.” Kenshin smiles at her as he takes it all in.  The dojo almost smells the same as his memory.
 
She smiles and gives him another short bow, directing him over to the wall behind the students, where there is a wooden bench. “You can watch from here.  If you choose to join in practice, you will need to fill out some forms first.”
 
“Thank you.”  He sits, and enjoys watching the remainder of class.  The teenager must be related to the other instructor here, because she calls out to her mother that they have a guest tonight, and the other woman waves before returning her attention to her students.  About an hour later, the class wraps up, and students begin gathering up their things and trickling out into the night.  
 
Kenshin stands and goes over to a wall of photographs while waiting for people to clear out so he can talk to the instructor.  There are so many framed photos: pictures of the dojo and surrounding town which are more recent, as well as photos going back through time of instructors and students.  He finally stops in front of one of the oldest photos. It is in an antique looking frame in a place of honor. His eyes scan hungrily over the picture of the newly built dojo with a smiling adult Yahiko and a young woman standing out front.  He grins at the obvious pride in which his old friend stands, and the subtle fondness that the woman seems to hold for him.

How is it possible?

Yahiko would have been in the dojo when the fire hit, and there had been no known survivors.  Had he left too soon? Was he one of those who was taken away for medical care before Kenshin stopped digging through the rubble? His breath hitches with surprised pain.

Did this one abandon his chosen family when they needed him most?

He blinks away the phantom tears, and suddenly spies another picture, one of a much older Yahiko and what appears to be his wife and family, and then finally, he spots it - a restored picture of the

old

dojo, which based on the trees and things he remembers around it, seems to have been where the new one is now. It is odd to see it again, this snapshot of his old life. He can see the image of himself smiling back at him beside Kaoru and the old doctor.  It was most likely taken the same day as the photo of Kaoru he has back at his hotel.  Suddenly he remembers he had needed to hold the smile so long his cheeks began to hurt, so that the picture would even develop properly.
 
Kenshin can feel his emotions still close to the surface as he faces the conflict of his loss with what he had known.  ‘

At least Yahiko appears to have ended up happy.  Would he have been so content if this one stayed?’

His thoughts are interrupted by a polite cough and a “Sumimasen deshita” and he quickly wipes his eyes and turns to the instructor with a bow. 
 
“No, please excuse me!  I did not want to interrupt your class…” 
 
She smiles welcomingly at him, “It is no trouble!  Welcome to Myōjin dojo. I am Myōjin Kimiko and you already met my daughter Amiko.  Can I…” but her words trail off as she notices the scar on his face and a flash of recognition passes her eyes.  “..Help you?” she belatedly finishes, looking between him and the picture on the wall. After a moment, she clicks her tongue, dismissing her thoughts as impossible and smiling at him again.
 
“Ah, Yes, sorry. I am Himura Kenshin, and I was - well, I happened to come this way looking for my old home.  Could you please tell me more of your dojo?”
 
She blinks, “I’m sorry, did you say you are Himura Kenshin?”
 
Myōjin residence at Myōjin Dojo, Musutafu, Japan. June 28th, 2286

5:40am (0540)
 
It is early morning by the time they finish talking.  Kenshin feels more emotionally wrung out than he has in years, but really quite jubilant at finding the descendants of someone he had known before he left Japan.  They had invited him to stay the night on the couch in their home, which was upstairs from the dojo. He was supposed to be sleeping, since he and Kimiko had talked well into the early hours of the day, but his mind was too busy at this latest development, and his body still fighting jet lag.  
 
After another half hour of tossing and turning he gives up, and pulling on the borrowed hakima pants they had loaned him (being short on men’s clothing) he goes downstairs to the dojo.  
 
He warms up, using old techniques mixed with new, and then selecting a practice blade from the stand, he begins going through now ancient forms.  Smooth with use and long practice, he easily slides from one to the next, the familiar surroundings bringing out the joy he once felt in the old movements.  Wrapped up in himself, he surprisingly doesn't notice he gains an audience until he hears a gasp when he slips into the old style and steps impossibly fast to strike his imaginary target.
 
He looks up to see both Kimiko and Amiko sitting on the stairs watching him.  Amiko claps and grins brightly, “Please, teach me!”  
 
Her tone is so close to echoing her ancestor that Kenshin can’t help it and barks out a laugh, “You do not want to learn from an old man such as myself.”
 
Amiko appears confused, having been sent to bed well before that part of the discussion had come up the night before, “You’re not old.  Are you a pro?”
 
Kenshin just blinks and glances at Kimiko, unsure what her daughter means. 
 
Kimiko sighs, “Please do not bother our guest.  He is older than he looks. If he wants to teach you he will, but we should honor his visit by being polite.” 
 
Amiko huffs but lets it rest, “Yes mother.” She mumbles.  “But he didn’t answer my question.”
 
Kenshin walks over to the stand and replaces the practice blade.  “If by Pro you mean someone who makes their living by being a Hero, no.  I am a teacher, “ he can see she is about to interrupt again, and so he lifts one hand to forestall her, “of English, and Japanese, and history.  Not of martial arts.”
 
She huffs again.  “Well, you could. You are good at it!” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting like a child.  “Even mother can’t move that quickly in her forms. Is that your quirk?” She perks up. 
 
“Amiko!  Manners!” Kimiko admonishes.  “Please forgive my daughter,” she directs to Kenshin, “We do not often have guests!”
 
Kenshin laughs lightly, “Oh, it is no problem.  Young Yahiko was much worse.” He makes a wry face, “He used to call most of the women we knew ‘old hag’.  I hope that was something he grew out of.”
 
Kimiko still looks amazed at the information about her ancestor, but she laughs at this tidbit, “Well, from what I know, he was well loved by his wife and students, so I suppose he did.”
 
Amiko frowns unsurely, “Wait. Do you mean Yahiko our founder?”
 
Kimiko’s mouth snaps shut and she glances apologetically at Kenshin before turning to look at her daughter, “Amiko, please go make tea and get things ready for breakfast.”
 
“But Mom!”
 
Kimiko just looks at her daughter steadily until she huffs her way upstairs.
 
Kenshin muses, watching the doorway she disappeared through, eventually turning back to Kimiko, “You can tell her if you feel she should know.  Everyone needs to learn to keep secrets.”
 
Kimiko just sighs, “She will learn.  It only takes one secret told to the wrong person.”  She smiles, attempting to lighten the mood, “Shall we go upstairs?”
 
Breakfast goes relatively smoothly, and Kenshin leaves later that morning after a shower. Kimiko extracts a promise that he will return, and sends him off with more information than he started with.  He knows for sure now that he must register a quirk. Those who register as quirkless are often looked down upon, and may have a harder time finding employment. He also knows that he needs to become a registered citizen again. He should prove he is who he says he is,

somehow,

in order to find work more easily. He subconsciously pats the pocket which now holds a paper with the quirk registration office address. 
 
Kimiko even gave him instructions to the address of where he remembers the shrine having been from the closest train station. He will need to go there soon. ‘

Hopefully they still have the painting, but the papers would also be useful to re-establish myself

.’ 
 
He can’t help but smile indulgently as two children run across the road in front of him, dressed as heros, and fighting some sort of imaginary villains. He does feel some sympathy for Amiko and her desire to be a hero.  He knows what it’s like to want to help. She had spent a good deal of the time her mother wasn’t paying attention begging him to teach her. Silently he resolves to help her prepare for what he is told is a very difficult exam.  He won’t teach her the ancient style he learned as a child, but physical training would not go amiss. She only has a couple years until she will need to decide on a high school.
 
He considers going straight to the Ministry of Justice to try to prove his citizenship, but quickly realizes he left all of his personal documents from his real identity back at the hotel.  Instead he decides not to waste the day. Stopping briefly by a clothing store and a convenience market, he gets a change of clothes and some toiletries, and then gets on a train heading out of the city. 
 
It is time to visit the shrine.

Forgotten Mountain Shrine, Japan.  June 29th, 2286

Mid-Morning
 
It had been a short taxi ride from the train station to the town he remembered visiting for supplies. Soon he is on his way up the mountain again, and much like his first visit, with a small bag of rice he had purchased in town. He takes a deep breath as he stands at the base of the mountain trail, and adjusting his pack to sit more easily, he begins his journey.
 
The trail is more overgrown than he remembers.  In town he was told the shrine does not get many visitors besides locals, although for a few years it was popular as a place to ask the kami for luck.  The main building was rebuilt after the quirk wars, when it was unfortunately burnt to the ground, but most of the outbuildings are now gone. From what he is told, only three people live at the shrine now.  The weight of the age of nature around him seems more heavy than he remembers, and he feels more like a foreigner than he has all day. He had hoped it would be like coming home to walk these paths again, but this is not his home any longer.
 
His legs begin to ache with the effort of the climb.  As he hikes, the sun bakes through the trees and the sounds of a few small animals and birds and his own breath are all that accompany him. Sweat beads on his forehead and stings his eyes. He had forgotten how hot it got up here during the day, especially in the summer.  He stops at a familiar rock and sits a while to cool down. It is on this climb that he begins to anxiously realize how important the things he left behind are to him.

Henry’s painting.

He hadn’t intended to be gone so long. It wasn’t until Kenny had described the scene to him that he had remembered how comforting the painting had been. How it had calmed him when he needed it with the memories it held. It had been a reminder that he had people that cared for him.
 
Soon he stands and begins again up the mountain.  And falling into a rhythm, the world becomes the steps he takes, the breath in his chest, the sound of the forest around him.  He finally finds some of the peace he remembered as he continues up the path. Eventually he looks up as the path evens out, and the shrine is there before him, only this is obviously more new, and a small gate is across the trail.  The clearing is also shaped differently after all of this time. The stream is now lined with stone, carefully guided in a path to be more pleasing to the eye. A small pond has been added at some point, with a tiered pagoda and koi fish lazily swimming about.  Parts of the original building are still there, but it has changed almost beyond recognition.
 
Kenshin sighs, but continues up through the gate, and then steps with some relief into the shade inside.  His eyes adjust to the low light, and he is startled to see a fox out of a fairy tale dressed in a green yukata come into the room.  The fox, who bows with his white tipped tail twitching back and forth, greets him. “Welcome. If you are here to visit the shrine, please clean yourself here.” And the fox gestures to a small fountain of water near the inner door.

‘He speaks!  It’s a man?’

Kenshin can’t help but stand in startled silence for a bit too long. He has so many questions!  His eyes widen and his cheeks flush as he realizes how long he’s been silent, he continues, hoping he wasn’t too rude.  “Please!” he finally says, “here is a donation for the shrine.” He places his pack on the floor and pulls out the bag of rice. Offering it to the fox-man with a bow, the man-fox-person steps forward and accepts it from him. Kenshin continues, “I do not need to go in, but I wanted to ask after some things I left here a long time ago.  Are you whom I should ask?”
 
“Oh!  I suppose I might know.  How long ago did you visit?  If it was within the last few months we may still have your items here.  If it was more than a couple of years ago, they might have been given away or lost in the fire.”
 
Kenshin flinches subtly, “It was - a very long time ago.  I am searching for a painting I left here, along with a few small papers.  They were all packed together in a chest of cedar that I left in the care of the head monk.”
 
The fox quirks his ears curiously, (

It is cute, and rather distracting!

) “I am afraid I don’t know of anything like that.” (

Kenshin wonders if his fur is as soft as it looks

) “But I can ask the current head monk, if you would like to wait here?”
 
Kenshin nods as he catches up to the conversation, and stepping over to the side of the room, sits down on the tatame to wait near a small table.  The fox briefly appears again to pour him some tea, (

and oh he has paws!

) and then departs to find the other monk. ‘

Does the tail help him balance? Does he have to make his own clothing?’

About twenty minutes later, the fox returns with two other men in tow. Both looking disappointingly normal “I realized I forgot to ask who you are?” states the fox, “This is Nakamura and Kobayashi, and I am Kitsunemoto.
 
Kenshin stood and bowed to the three men, “I am Himura Kenshin.”
 
Kobayashi blinks in surprise, “Himura.”  He stopped, mouth opening and closing a few times while he gathered his thoughts and the other two monks watched him in confusion. “Did you - visit here?”
 
Shaking his head negatively Kenshin replied, “I lived here, for a few years, but it was a long time ago.”  he glances at the walls, “Long before they rebuilt.”
 
Kobayashi runs his hand absently through his hair.  “Is that...even possible?” he says to himself, obviously not meaning to be answered.
 
“Oro! my apologies!  I am just trying to find out if the painting and papers I left are still here.”
 
Nakamura steps in, noticing that Kobayashi doesn't seem to be able to form a coherent answer at the moment. “Do you have identification?  Can you describe the painting or papers?”
 
Kenshin pulls out his UK passport as well as his current visa, and shows them to Nakamura and Kitsunemoto. “I have my passport from England and at my hotel are my papers from before I left the country, but unfortunately I have not yet been able to re-establish myself here in Japan.”
 
Kobayashi seems to use Kenshin’s words as a way to gather himself. “Well, we can not help you then.  You need to have current identification in order to claim lost items. Please return when you have that from the Japanese authorities.”  Nakmura and Kitsunemoto stand slightly behind Kobayashi, and obviously defer to his guidance.  
 
Kenshin sighs, noting their united front.  “I see, please continue to keep those items for my return.  I will come back when I have what you need.” ‘

Do you need a license for everything here?!’

He packs his passport carefully back in his bag, slinging it back over his shoulder.  He can’t help but smile once more at Kitsunemoto, whose tail is still twitching.
 
Kenshin bows, and leaving the shrine, begins the long walk down the mountain.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

CHAPTER 13 - How to Prove You Are You
 Riverside Hotel, Nishikyo Ward , Kyoto, Japan, July 5th, 2286,  
9:13am (0913)
 He is glad Kimiko agreed to let him store some things at their house.  It would have been much more difficult to drag all of his luggage with him around the city.  As it is, he checks out relatively quickly, although earlier than he originally intended. It doesn’t make much sense after all to keep traveling back and forth to Musutafu from the hotel.  He has managed to consolidate the most important items down to one large bag, which he drags behind him to the train station. His sword is wrapped and slung over his back - he wasn’t about to leave it anywhere and it doesn’t fit in the suitcase.  He does notice a police officer watching him curiously as he purchases his ticket for the train. Kenshin smiles at her and the woman flushes and turns away.   20 minutes later he is on the train, and settled in for the ride. It’s quieter this trip then the last one - the car mostly filled with business people and a few of the older generations.  He does notice one oddly dressed man in bright purple, who seems to be covered partially in soot and is snoring against the window.  A child across from the purple man with his mother, tugs at her clothing and seems to be asking her something about the man, gesturing excitedly.  The woman smiled indulgently and takes a picture of the unconscious man with her phone, showing it to the boy. He hugs her and she and pats the boy’s head.   Kenshin’s eyes go back to the tired fellow.   He must have had a hard night? I wonder why the pictures though?   
Ministry of Justice, Tokyo, Japan, July 5th, 2286

2:30pm (1430)
 Eventually, after traveling a good portion of the day, Kenshin goes from train to taxi, and finds himself standing outside of the Ministry of Justice.  He asks directions at the desk to his appointment as he goes in, and soon is directed to an office near the back where he sits across from a middle aged man with a very narrow face. “How can I help you?” the man asks.  The nameplate on his desk identifies him as “Mr. Nakamura”.   Kenshin, surprisingly nervous, still flashes him a smile, “I am trying to re-establish my identity.  I left the country for a time, and I am trying to prove that I am who I am. So that I can find work, now that I have returned.” The man frowns subtly, “Do you have any identifying papers?  Family who can vouch for you? Why did you leave the country?” Kenshin and Kimiko had come up with a plan during his last visit.  She seemed to think it would probably go over better if he started from the beginning and worked his way to the present day.  If he started with present day they would probably just throw him out. He tips over the suitcase, and opening it begins to pull out his papers. Kimiko had even allowed him to borrow the photograph of himself and friends at the old dojo. “Here are the items I have to prove I am myself.” He sets the framed photograph on the desk, as well as the carefully preserved papers including those that gave him permission to carry his sword from the Meiji government. Haltingly, he begins his story.   Kenshin can see the incredulity grow on the mans’ face as he continues, then as he pulls out more, and more, and more, it slowly morphs into hesitancy, and then curiosity.  Finally, Kenshin pulls the sword from his back, causing the man to scramble back for a moment.  “I will not hurt you.” Kenshin smiles disarmingly, and slowly begins taking off the wrappings.  Once out of the cover and sheath, he lays it on top of the now almost buried desk. As he removes his hands from the blade, Mr. Nakamura hesitantly scoots back over to look at it more closely. “I also have this.  My sword from my wanderings.  You should be able to match the registered markings from it’s forging to verify its authenticity.” Kenshin flashes a grin, his violet eyes lighting up briefly, “I promise I am who and what I say.  I know it sounds crazy.” An idea pops suddenly into Kenshin's head, and finally he pulls out his current passport and visa. “If you will not believe me, perhaps you will believe another government?  I have been living in England for some time, so they can verify where and when I was there.” The man stares at him in stunned silence, opening and closing his mouth a few times, like a fish on dry land. “Are you well?  Do you need assistance?”  Kenshin asks him in concern. His words seem to bring Mr. Nakamura back to his senses, “Ah...You are, Himura Kenshin.” “Yes.” “The Himura Kenshin, Battosai.” Kenshin flinches subtly, “Yes.” The man clicks his tongue, “Tch”, still somewhat incredulous.   Eyeing his now overflowing desk with trepidation, and glancing finally between the sword and Kenshin, his eyes linger on Kenshin’s scarred cheek. “I will...need to call someone to verify your claim.  Please wait here.” He then quickly gets up and scrambles out of his office, closing the door firmly behind him with Kenshin still inside. Kenshin waits, unsure what else he can do.  And waits. Eventually he can hear people arguing from the other side of the door, and then finally, the door opens again.  Mr. Nakamura comes back in, but doesn’t sit down. Kenshin sighs to himself and tenses subtly as a police detective enters. ‘ Oro! Am I to be arrested?  This will make it very hard to get a job.’  However, the man just smiles at him as he takes Mr. Nakamura’s seat, briefly glancing over the paperwork in front of him and the sword, before lifting his eyes to Kenshin again. “I am Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi.  I was called to verify your words, as my quirk allows me to tell if people are telling the truth.” Tsukauchi can’t help but notice as the man in front of him shifts into a more relaxed state. ‘ He was worried he won’t be believed, but the truth is a relief?’  “I am Himura Kenshin. I do know that it sounds like it could not be true. But it is.”   Truth His quirk confirms. ' Indeed ,' Tsukauchi thinks to himself.  'It does sound implausible.'   “Perhaps you can tell me your story again?  I know you just went over all of this, so just the short version?” Kenshin can’t help but snort at that, but quickly begins, “Well, I was born in Japan, before the Meiji revolution.”  Tsukauchi interrupts, “Sorry, when exactly were you born?” Taking a deep and resigned breath, Kenshin begins counting silently on his fingers. Tsukauchi and Nakamura exchange a glance, and then Tsukauchi speaks again, “What are you doing?” “Sorry, I have to count.” “Why?” “Well, we didn’t exactly keep birth records, so I am trying to figure it out based on what I was told my age was, and various other things that were happening at the time.  My parents for instance, died when I was about 4 - cholera. I was trained to fight very young, as an assassin, I think I was around...13? I fought during the revolution as the Battosai…”  He pauses to gather his thoughts, a number of emotions flickering over his face in quick succession. I married briefly, but she… died.”   Truth and...something mostly truth? Tsukauchi continues to listen. “I began to wander, to try to find myself in the new world I found had changed around me. I stayed in Musutafu for a short while at a dojo, and a shrine after that, and I began teaching Japanese about that time.  I eventually went to Europe around World War II, and then after that war, I stayed in England until just a few weeks ago.” Tsukauchi’s quirk continues to confirm that at least Kenshin believes himself.  It seems to be the truth. “I visited France, and after a week I traveled to the US.  I was only in the United States for a short time, before I finally returned home.  Here to Japan.” 
Truth.
 “I am told I must prove I am myself, and register my quirk in order to find work.”  Kenshin smiles as he concludes the very abridged version of his life so far.  “Why did you stay in England?  What kept you from returning to Japan?” “I eventually had family there. Friends.  I didn’t want to leave them.” “How is it possible you have lived so long?” Kenshin actually shifts in his seat at this question. The damn yellow pouch!    That however, is not the answer he decides to go with. “I am not entirely sure.” he hesitantly answers out loud, “It seems that I just heal very quickly.”  He frowns somewhat, “I seem to get younger if I get injured.” He can’t help but think of the many times he has been stabbed, or of being hit by a car. “It could be a quirk.  But it could be something else.” Or the times he was shot.  Or pushed off of buildings. “Tsukauchi nods in confirmation to Mr. Nakamura, and then stands, allowing the man to reclaim his seat while he continues speaking to Kenshin, “I can tell you believe you are telling the truth, but I recommend that we verify the authenticity of your papers as well as the sword.“ He continues, “In order to register your quirk, if that is what it is, we will need you to visit a specialist, who can hopefully confirm its properties.” He smiles briefly at Kenshin, somewhat relieved he was called over for something so interesting.  “I do know a doctor I can recommend, who will be discreet. I assume you plan on keeping your return to yourself?” Kenshin nods. 
Hero Commission West Offices, Yamaguchi Clinic, Tokyo, Japan, July 8th, 2286

9:18am (0918)
 A few days later, and he finds himself in the waiting room of a quirk specialist, who also (he is told) frequently assists with specialized cases for those recovering from quirk injuries, and police or hero related incidents. After notifying the receptionist that he has arrived, he sits in one of the brown chairs in the waiting area with a couple other people, and well, waits. He flips through a magazine on local heros, and notices advertisements for hero schools in the back.  He doesn’t realize he has spoken out loud his question of ‘Hero Schools?’ until the gaunt man sitting across from him in a yellow suit answers. “Ah yes, there are a few.  UA is perhaps the best, although Shiketsu and Ketsubutsu have their own draw.  Oh, and Saiai Academy, as well as a few prominent schools overseas.” the man smiles which frankly is a little disturbing, with his lanky blond hair framing his thin face.  He would probably be quite tall if he stood up, and his suit seems a bit too big. “Not the only way to become a hero though. If you’re interested in that sort of thing.” Kenshin blinks a few times, and then settles on a smile, “I was simply curious.  I am a teacher, after all. It is interesting that becoming a hero is so institutionalized here.” His eyes return to the full page add for the UA Sports Festival, “I have a friend who is interested in hero work.” The man perks up slightly, “Oh?  Well, There is plenty to learn. Not everything about being a hero can be taught in schools.  The number One and number Two and many others went to formal Hero schools though. How long have you been teaching?” Kenshin flashes a grin, “Oh, a very long time.  Most of my life it seems.” Kenshin can’t help but notice the man’s unusual eyes. Bright, almost glowing blue irises, but his eyes were so shadowed not a bit of the whites could be seen. How unusual. The yellow suited man nods slowly, “Hmm, I have been asked to teach, and I am considering it.  I have not been sure I would be a good fit to such a life. I think I may do better with one student than many.” “It really isn’t that different.  With one, you can give them more individualized attention, but often many can be rewarding in other ways.  It is an opportunity to show them how to be their best in whatever subject you teach.” The man pauses suddenly.  “Oh, my apologies. I have interjected myself on your reading!  I didn’t mean to interrupt.” His gaunt cheeks flush awkwardly for a moment. “I don’t think I introduced myself either.” Kenshin grins at him again, “I am always happy to learn new things, and to help others learn them.  I am Himura Kenshin,” he says with a half bow from his seat, “And you are?” “Yagi Toshinori.  Pleased to meet you!”  He extends his hand in very American fashion. Kenshin shakes his hand, wryly amused to randomly run into what seems to be the only American around. “And you.” “Yagi-san?”  A voice calls from across the room, and both Kenshin and Toshinori look up at the nurse standing in the doorway.   Toshinori stands up, ( and he is VERY tall! ) but turns to Kenshin with a smile before heading into the back, “I would love to ask you more about your teaching experiences, if you have time later?”  he flushes again, “I know it is a bit unusual, since we just met, but perhaps we could have tea this afternoon?” Kenshin almost laughs, but settles on flashing another grin “Ah, of course!  I would be happy to answer whatever questions you have. But I have to admit I am still looking for work locally.  Most of my teaching has been overseas.” Toshinori pulls out a business card, and after checking it ( to make sure it was him? ) hands it over “Please send me a text when you have time.” He smiles and nods, and exits with the nurse. 
‘Tea hmm?  Perhaps he’s not American after all.’
 It is only a few minutes later when Kenshin is called back to his own appointment. --- Kenshin is first subjected to blasted blood samples , which he hates. He seems to have inadvertently frightened the first nurse taking the samples with his unhappy glaring, because an older nurse comes in to finish the series of tests.   He is then escorted into an exam room, and put through a series of other tests of strength, speed, stamina, x-rays, and various things which he doesn’t think are really related at all.  Finally, he is escorted into a smaller office, where a man is waiting to discuss with him the aspects of his “quirk”.   “Mr. Himura” greets the Doctor, who just continues into the conversation without pausing, “I am Doctor Hikimoto, and I work for the Hero Commission as a quirk specialist.  I was asked as a favor to analyze your quirk, and really, you are most interesting! From your genetic testing, we can determine you were indeed born in Japan, and probably ate very pure foods at a young age - rather than processed foods. Your more recent diet has probably not been as healthy, but your body is really in remarkable shape!” He taps the paper in emphasis.  “When we subjected some of your blood and tissue samples to various items - acid, fire, ice, you know the usual - the smaller the exposure, the slower the response, but your healing factor is incredible! When almost completely exposed, the samples very quickly fought against the destruction of the cells, and in some cases seemed to have completely regenerated!! Oddly, the more tests done on a single sample, the quicker it seemed to respond and the more it healed. It really is amazing.” Kenshin is surprised the man is still standing, since it doesn’t seem he has taken a breath. He shifts uncomfortably at having something he’s spent so long keeping to himself exposed so completely. “Have you ever given blood? I mean, as a donation.” Blinking, Kenshin briefly remembers the War, “Ah, I think a time or two?  It has been a long while.” “You may want to consider it.  I would think - and granted, this is a theory - that your blood when donated would still retain the properties of your quirk, at least for a short while. You could really help those who have your blood type!” Kenshin hears those words with some pain - perhaps he could have helped Henry avoid limping for years if he had known back then what he knows now. “Of course,” the man continues, “It potentially could make you a target to those who are interested in marketing your ability or using it for nafareous purposes.  Do you get sick very often?” Blinking, Kenshin tries to adjust to the quick change in topic, “Oro..no?” he can’t help but feel a bit of topic whiplash. “You may be mostly immune to many diseases but I do not think it would be easy to test.” “Ah, Perhaps another time.” Kenshin shifts uneasily. “Oh!  Of course!  In any case, we can verify your quirk for the commission and the registration office.”  the man pulls some papers off of his clipboard, and after signing them, hands them to Kenshin. “Here you are.  Please - if you would like to know more about your quirk, I would be happy to assist you at any time.” “Thank you.”  Kenshin stands and bows, and the Doctor also bows as Kenshin retreats to the nurses desk to check out. He is surprised to see Yagi also waiting to leave. Yagi seems a bit more haggard and drained then when they had met in the waiting area, but he still smiles. “Ah, Mr. Himura.  I know I had invited you for tea this afternoon, but I feel quite tired after my appointment. Perhaps we can meet tomorrow instead?” Kenshin nods, “Of course.  I will still be in the area.  I am staying over at a hotel in Musutafu.”  Yagi perks up again, “That is not far from the place I had in mind.  Have you heard of the Sea Glass Cafe? It sells excellent loose teas, and you can get coffee as well, if that is what you prefer.” He pauses just a moment, “I might actually know someone who could help you with your search for work, if you are interested.  He is a Principle at a local school - he also liked the tea at the Sea Glass.” “That would be kind of you, Yagi-sama.” Kenshin replies. Toshinori flushes briefly again, and coughs, shuddering slightly, and covering his mouth with a handkerchief. “Yes.  Ah, tomorrow then? around 1 in the afternoon?” he adds, a bit muffled from behind the cloth. Kenshin tears the corner off of one of his papers, and writes down his current number, handing it to Toshi “In case you need to reschedule.  Please take care of yourself, Yagi-sama. It was good to meet you.” 
Ministry of Justice, Quirk Registration Office, Tokyo, Japan, July 9th, 2286

8am (0800)
 The next morning finds Kenshin back at the Ministry of Justice, waiting in an almost identical office to the one he had sat in the week before. It isn’t until Mr. Nakamura comes in that he thinks perhaps it really is an identical office, but he is soon followed by a woman he doesn’t recognize who steps to the front.   “Good Morning, Mr. Himura.”  She smiles smoothly, “It really is a pleasure to meet you.  I am Ms. Suzuki, and I work with the Hero Commission, as well as some of the other offices within the government.”   Kenshin begins to suspect he has found another “agent”.  “Is it typical to register a quirk, that it is so difficult?” Mr. Nakamura looks vaguely embarrassed, but remains silent.  Ms. Suzuki quirks her lips in a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes, “It is when the man registering the quirk could potentially be a danger to the country.” He feels the surprise flash over his face, “Oro, a danger?” “Hmm, at least according to our sources with European Intelligence.  The UK had good things to say about you however,” she tilted her head slightly to one side, and he couldn’t help but feel judged and measured like an object as she regarded him. “Many good things.” After a lengthy pause, she speaks up again, “Congratulations, Mr. Himura.  And welcome back to Japan. If you have need, please keep in mind the Ministry and the Hero Commission are here to reach out to.  We will be watching your progress.” She gives him a half bow. Sets a passport and ID on the desk beside where Mr. Nakamura is still uncomfortably standing, and leaves the room. “..Thank you?”  For some reason, Kenshin feels an uncanny dislike for that woman. Mr. Nakamura closes the door behind her, and lets out a breath he was holding.  He flashes Kenshin an apologetic glance, and returns to his desk. He lifts Kenshin’s suitcase back up on top of the desk and smiles at him, “Here are your records, and here is your sword.  Please look over them and make sure nothing is out of place. Thank you for allowing us to take pictures for prosperity. He then collects the passport and ID card that the woman had left, as well as a signature stamp, reaching out to offer Kenshin his identity back. “We received the electronic files for your quirk registration.  Did you have anything specific you wanted to register it as? I mean, you have had years to think about it…” he pauses, and mumbles a little to himself, “Hmm, technically you had the first registered quirk, even if it wasn’t registered first….” he trails off, coming back to himself as Kenshin reaches out and accepts the ID. “Ah - what did the doctor suggest?”  “Well, it is a transformation quirk as he classified it. He suggested: Fountain of Youth.” Kenshin flushes, “Ah, but I’m just Asian?” Nakamura just laughs, a bit of the earlier tension draining from his shoulders, “Well, I hope I look as good as you at over 400.” 
Sea Glass Cafe, Musutafu, Japan, July 12th, 2286

12:57pm (1257)
 Kenshin checks the sign twice before going in the door, setting a small bell to jingling behind him as he enters. The rush of cool air as he steps into the room is pleasant, and the smell of coffee and tea permeates the area.  A few small and worn wooden tables are placed against the walls, some of which are occupied, and the far wall is taken up almost entirely by a large bar with various professional coffee machines and a cash register. Behind the bar, there are shelves and shelves of glass jars, neatly labeled with white script identifying the type of tea leaves or coffee available for purchase.  A door behind the bar seems to exit into what is probably a kitchen area or storage room. A tired looking green haired woman is taking orders at one of the tables, and briefly smiles at him as he enters.  Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the lower level of light in the cafe, Kenshin still tries to spot which table Yagi is occupying.  He spots the back of the man’s very noticeable blond locks, and heads in that direction.   “Yagi-sama?” Kenshin speaks up before he makes it all the way over to the table.  Yagi partially turns, giving Kenshin a full view of the table and its other occupant. “Himura-san!  You made it!” Yagi’s bright smile greets Kenshin as he walks the rest of the way over to the table, but he barely notices since he’s too busy taking in the white... Rat...Dog...Bear Person? ? who is occupying the bench against the wall.  “I...hope I am not too tardy?” His voice comes across a bit more uneven than usual as he tries to contain his excitement. ‘ Kenshin Himura you must not pet.  It is not polite to pet people.  Another animal person! Quirks are amazing!' The spindly man gestures to his odd companion, still smiling, “Not at all, not at all!.  Please join us - this is Principle Nezu. I thought he might be able to help with your search.” Nezu, who is already standing on the bench to reach the table, bows politely and appraises him with black intelligent eyes. “Greetings Himura-sensei.  I have heard much about you. I hope you do not mind, when my Yagi mentioned he had met someone looking for a teaching position, I took the liberty of contacting the Hero Commission to check on who you were.  Very interesting history!” Kenshin quirks an eyebrow as he regards them both and listens to this narrative from Nezu, unsure if he should feel fascinated or alarmed at the scrutiny of this Mouse-bear.  He straightens his jacket, having reverted to his now familiar western suit coat and semi-casual slacks for today. “I am very pleased to meet you - and please, I prefer to keep my past to myself for now.  Which school are you the Principle of, if I may ask, Nezu-sama?” he asks with a return bow before he sits. “Yagi did not tell you??  Why I am the Principle of the premiere Hero Academy of Japan!  U.A.!”, He answers, brandishing his teacup and standing in a “hero” pose.  “I have been trying to convince Yagi-san here to join our staff.” “Are you a retired hero?” Kenshin asks, unaware of the pot he is stirring. Yagi suddenly coughs, spewing blood onto the floor beside the table, causing Kenshin to jump up in alarm. “Ah, this is normal, please do not mind me!” he tries to get his coughing under control. Kenshin does mind.  Quite a bit.  He is really very concerned.   “Yagi-sama, should I call a doctor?  Can I help?” He hovers helplessly, finally handing him some napkins and running over to collect a mop from the barista, who is making coffee behind the counter.   Behind him Nezu is laughing. He peeks at her nametag before addressing her, “Please, excuse my interruption Midoriya-sama, do you have a mop?  I need to clean a mess we made near our table.” He spots one behind her as he finishes asking, and she steps aside “You can use this one?” She smiles, returning her attention to the espresso machine. The mess is quickly cleaned up while Yagi catches his breath, and Nezu continues to laugh. Eventually they settle back down.  Nezu’s favorite tea blend is out, and Kenshin suggests some of his own favorite blends to try. Thankfully the slightly manic tone to the Mouse-bear’s voice fades as he relaxes with his tea, and they get back to the topic of teaching. “Yes, I have taught middle school and University, as well as private students.” Kenshin smiles at them both, “I am hoping to teach at the middle or high school level here.” He glances over at Nezu, “I just finished re-establishing my identity this morning, actually.” The beady eyes of the rat-bear flicker with amusement, as his ( lips? muzzle? ) quirks into a smile, “So I had heard.”  ‘So quickly?’ Kenshin thinks with amazement. Nezu continues, “I think I have a few contacts that would be interested in your skills,” he pauses, almost imperceptibly, “as a teacher.” Yagi speaks up, obliviously, “That would be wonderful!  If you find something locally, we can continue to meet for tea, and you can give me tips on teaching.” Soon the conversation morphs into discussions of past students, and Yagi listens with interest as Nezu and Kenshin compare student and quirk stories.  Nezu even laughs when Kenshin mentions having been accidentally poisoned by a student once. Although Yagi looks rather concerned. “Are you alright?”   “Yes yes, I heal very quickly.  Evidently that’s my quirk.” “Hmm,” Yagi replies, one hand holding his side, “I wish I could say the same.” The conversation comes to a somewhat abrupt end when the barista comes up to the table, “I apologize, but I need to close up and get home.  It is already an hour past our usual closing time. Could you perhaps come back another day?” Kenshin quickly stands and helps clear the table, while Nezu and Yagi bid him good evening and head out.  Following fairly soon after them, Kenshin decides with a glance at the sky that he may as well walk back to the hotel.  The air has cooled down a bit, and the evening is pleasant. He is feeling rather pleased with himself.   Step 1: complete.  Identify restored.Step 2: in progress, find a job.Step 3: Apartment, Step 4...well, he’ll get to that once he gets that far.The street lights, which are rather few and far between, flicker on in the gathering night. His inner musings are interrupted when he hears a shriek behind him, which cuts off alarmingly.  He quickly turns around and jogs back the way he came, skidding to a halt and turning back when he notices some movement in an ally he just passed. “Please!  I have a son at home.  Leave me alone!” Cries the woman tearily, who has fallen back against one of the walls, small bits of litter and trash flinging themselves at the man trying to pull her purse away from her.  Kenshin recognizes that voice. WIthout hesitation, he springs forward, closing the distance between his fist and the man’s face in record time. The impact causes the mugger to stagger back, but he growls and jumps at Kenshin in return.  Kenshin blocks, and the barista from the cafe begins to scoot herself back out of the way, having pulled her purse free. “Are you alright?”  he calls to her as the Mugger and him regard each other in a brief standoff.  The man claps his hands in front of him and a cloud of smoke suddenly springs up, blocking clear view.  “Please be careful!” Is the teary response he gets from her.  He can hear her push the buttons on her phone, and her panicked request for the police. Kenshin listens for movement, but doesn’t quite react fast enough when the man springs at him from the side, brandishing a knife.  He hisses in delayed pain when he is struck across the ribs, but quickly grapples the man’s wrist, twisting his arm up and over and throwing him to the ground with a loud grunt. Following through, he pulls the muggers arm up into a locked position, and knocks the blade from his hand. He then places his foot against the back of the man’s head, effectively bracing him in place.   The sounds of sirens soon approach from the distance, and he can hear other people entering the alleyway as the smoke begins to dissipate. The man struggles a bit, but stops with a hiss when Kenshin tightens his hold on his arm, pulling slightly.   “You are all under arrest!” yells a policeman when he spots the three as the air clears.   “Oro!” Kenshin objects, “He was the one that attacked her! I was just trying to make sure she was safe!” “Quirk use without a hero license is prohibited!  You should all know that!” Midoriya bursts into tears again, “I can’t protect myself??” “Please, Midoriya-san, it will be ok!  The police will see that you are not at fault.” Kenshin tries to comfort her when they are all bundled into a police car. Protests and explanations have been ignored, and she breaks into a fresh fountain of tears. 
4th Region Police Station, Musutafu, Japan, July 12th, 2286

9:19pm (2119)
 Soon, they find themselves at the local police station, Kenshin and the thief have been taken to individual interview rooms, being questioned. As the discovered “victim” of the crime, she is being questioned by a young policeman who is just trying to help calm her down. Inko is still crying.  But she is also mad. They wont let her call her son to let him know she will be late - they won’t even listen to her when she insists the nice friend of Yagi-san was just helping her get away from the thief!  She isn’t sure if she is going to scream or cry at the injustice of the day- She is just so tired! - tears of frustration run down her face.  She is obliviously flustering the rookie policeman who really isn’t sure how to handle the weeping woman. Naomasa Tsukauchi is on his way out after dropping off some files when he notices the situation and lost police child.  The poor policeman’s hand is hovering over the woman’s back, as if he isn’t sure if patting her would help comfort or make things worse.  Tsukauchi catches his pleading “save me!” look, and with a nod allows the young recruit to retreat. “Oba-san, are you alright?  Can you tell me why you are so upset?” he sits down beside Inko and hands her a tissue, which she takes appreciatively and sniffles, dabbing her eyes and gathering herself, “Oh, it was horrible!  I was attacked on my way home from my second job, and Yagi-san’s kind friend ran in to help me, but then the police took all of us here and now he’s in trouble and they said he was acting as a vigilante…” She tears up again, taking a breath, “He was just trying to help me!  He got me away from him and restrained the thief, and we waited for the police! What else should we have done??” Naomasa sighs, “It sounds like you have had a very trying day.  May I ask - who is Yagi-san, his friend, and what is your name?” Midoriya wipes her eyes, “Yagi-san, Yagi Toshinori,  is a regular at the cafe - The Sea Glass Cafe, where I work sometimes.  His friends came in to join him for tea today, and they all stayed past closing to help me clean up! She sniffles again, “ The Detective sighed to himself.  Yagi Toshinori - who really seemed to be a magnet for trouble.  It is hardly a wonder that his friends are just as bad at keeping themselves from stepping in when someone is in need of help.  “And what was your name, Oba-san?” he asks gently. “Sorry!  I am Midoriya Inko.”  “Midoriya-san - Please let me get you a drink, and then if you would please write down what you have told me - you don’t need to add in names - but please write down all the events as clearly as possible.”  He reaches over and grabs a box of tissues, which he hands to her, “Here you are - and we will get this all straightened out. Alright?” She nods and gives him a half bow, “Thank you! I will do as you ask!”----Kenshin’s side throbs. A different officer has been taking his statement, and is looking at Kenshin with some skepticism. “So you just ran in to help, without calling for the police or a local hero?” “She could have been hurt!  He was obviously trying to steal her purse, and she was crying!” He is beginning to feel attacked. ‘ I did nothing wrong!’  “You do know it is illegal to use your quirk in these circumstances without a hero license.”  The officer states, frowning slightly as he glances down at Kenshin’s side. “I didn’t use my quirk.  I just got him away from her, and then restrained him until she could call the police.”  It has been a while since he has been this close to losing his temper.  He is however this close to losing his temper. “We saw all of the smoke! That wasn’t natural.” Kenshin just stares at him, incredulous, “That is not my quirk.  That was the thief! I just heal quickly. I have no powers over smoke.” The policeman frowns and writes something down on his notes, then glances again at Kenshin’s side. “Were you injured?”  He actually sounds somewhat concerned. Lifting a hand to his side again, Kenshin tries to take a deep breath, assessing, “Well, it hurts less than it did.  Probably almost healed now.” Shrugging out of his damaged suit jacket, the policeman takes in a breath at the slashed open and bloody shirt, standing half out of his chair. “Please!  It’s ok! Kenshin tries to reassure him with a smile, and pulls up his destroyed shirt to show what is now only mildly irritated skin, and a fresh scar.   Of course, the inside still aches, but he doesn’t need to let the nice policeman know about that. “I only got a little stabbed this time.” The policeman blinks, “This time,” He repeats, tone a bit strangled. Kenshin realizes he has said too much at exactly the same time that the door opens, Detective Tsukauchi steps inside, walking over to stand behind the officer’s chair, “Thank you, Oyagi.  I will take it from here.”  Oyagi stands, picking up his notes, but Tsukauchi plucks them out of his hands before directing him with his other hand toward the door.  Oyagi clenches his jaw briefly but quietly leaves, the door closing behind him. Tsukauchi sighs, and sits in the now vacated chair.  “Mr. Himura.” “Detective Tsukauchi.” “I should have guessed that Yagi-san’s friend would be you.”  He tilts his head watching Kenshin with a bit of resignation. “You really are quite lucky I was here today.  If not, you would likely be arrested and charged with vigilantism.” He regards Kenshin evenly, “As it is, I happened to walk by as Midoriya-san was vouching for ‘Yagi-san’s kind friend who saved her from the awful murdering thief.’ her words.”   “Oro!  I was just helping because she needed help.” Naomasa nods, “True, but you cannot help or use your quirk in such situations without a hero license.” Kenshin just blinks, ‘ You really do need a license for everything!?’ before his eyes narrow subtly, his annoyance at repeating himself and his long night coming out in his voice, “I could not just leave her to be stabbed and mugged, and I did not use my quirk!”  Truth. Naomasa’s quirk adds unbidden. The detective hums. Noting the tension in Kenshin’s shoulders and jaw, he considers what he now knows of the man’s past before speaking. “I believe you.” he decides to start with, and watches Kenshin relax slightly, “If you think you might find yourself in these situations often, I would recommend looking into getting a hero license.  I can get you some information on that if you wish.” Kenshin stills, and after a brief pause, lifts his violet eyes to meet the gaze of Naomasa, “I think that would be best.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

CHAPTER 14 - I Know I Always Come and Go (Go)

Myōjin residence at Myōjin Dojo, Musutafu, Japan. July 14th, 2286

7:11pm (1911)

“Really!!?  That is fantastic!”  Amiko practically jumped from her seat at the news, and Kenshin and Kimiko exchanged an amused glance.  Kenshin had discussed it with Kimiko over the phone the day before, and invited him to dinner to break the news himself.

“It will only be on weekends for now, or when we both have free time.  I have outlined a plan to follow otherwise on how to get into shape for the exam and what to eat, but I doubt it will be too much different from what your mother already had you doing.  Do you think you can be disciplined enough to follow that on your own during the week?”

“I will!  I promise!”  She actually jumped over and hugged Kenshin, who startled, just held his arms up for a moment and then patted her on the back with one hand. When she released him she eagerly took the notebook he offered her.

Kenshin chuckled a little at her enthusiasm, and then continued. “I will be studying to take the exam for a license myself.  It seems that just stepping in to stop something wrong is an act of vigilantism here.” He looks up at Kimiko, who nods.

Standing, Kimiko begins to gather up the dishes to wash, and Amiko quickly made herself scarce with her new precious notebook.

“Her father would be proud of her.”  Kimiko offered quietly from the sink while adding dish soap.

Looking up, Kenshin noticed the mood had changed and remained silent.  He walked over and started some tea, since he knew Kimiko would get upset with him if he tried to help with dishes.

Eventually, Kimiko continued, “He was a fantastic martial artist, he used to help train some of the pros.” she rinsed a bowl and put it to the side. “He was downtown when there was a big fight a few years ago between Endeavour and the Villain Toxic Chainsaw.  The Villain got away. I was told later he was captured by All Might and ended up in Tartarus.” She put the last dish on the rack and turned around to face Kenshin.

“There was already a lot of damage to the area that day though- my husband did not make it.”

He offered her a cup of the now finished tea, which she took with a half smile. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for telling me.  Is that why she wants to be a hero so much?” Kenshin asked quietly.

They both walked back over to sit at the table, “I think it is.  She seems determined that there’s enough Heroes around to save those that need to be saved.  She feels like her quirk would be good for rescue, and I agree.” She pressed her lips subtly, “I don’t want to lose her as well, but..” She smiled wanly at Kenshin and took a sip of her tea.

“I can understand her desire to help others.  I will do my best to help her get into a good hero school, although I am not sure what I can help with that you could not do just as well.”

Kimiko laughed, “Ah, but I’m just her Mother, you’re a legend!”

Kenshin flushes and shakes his head, “I am just a man. I will not teach her what she probably most wants to know,” he looks up at her “Some things are used only to kill, not to save.”

“Still, thank you for helping her.” Kimiko smiles, “I’m glad you found our Dojo.  I think Yahiko would have been happy too.”

Kenshin stands, flashing a grin, “This one thanks you.  I must get back to the hotel however - I have an interview tomorrow!”

Kimiko smiles and stands as well, giving Kenshin a bow, “I wish you luck!”

Sea Glass Cafe, Musutafu, Japan, July 17th, 2286

1:17pm (1317)

There was a different barista on duty today, but Kenshin still sat at the table they had been meeting at regularly and waited for Yagi and Nezu to arrive.  Instead of having brought a new blend for them all to try, Kenshin had just bought Nezu’s favorite, which was back in stock. His friends were a bit later than he had expected, usually they were very prompt.  He was startled suddenly by a “That is my usual seat you know!” and his eyes flashed briefly to amber as he tried to calm the adrenaline that flooded his system.  It wasn't often he was snuck up upon. Nezu now was standing on the bench right beside him.

“Oro!!  A Nezu. You startled me!” Kenshin had without thinking shifted halfway into a ready stance, but slowly relaxed back into the bench.

“I can tell.” The Mouse-man replies, amusement in his voice.  “I am afraid Yagi-san will not make it today. ”

Kenshin shifts into one of the other chairs at the table, and pours some tea for Nezu, “Ah, well - I suppose I will speak with him again soon regardless.  I hope he is well?”

“He had another obligation suddenly come up.” Nezu replies vaguely.  “How did your interview go?”

Kenshin blinks, “You knew about the interview?” then sighs, “Of course you knew about the interview.” He smiles at Nezu, amused, “You know everything after all.  Do I even need to tell you how it went, or do you already know?” Kenshin grins impishly.

“Well, it’s only polite to ask.” Answers Nezu primly, taking a sip of his tea and distinctly not answering the question.

“It went well.  I will be taking over for one of their instructors who is moving unexpectedly.”

Kenshin doesn’t notice Nezu’s eyes twinkle.

“I’ll be teaching English for Musutafu Prep School. I start in three weeks, so I need to find somewhere more permanent to live than a hotel pretty soon.”  He took a sip of his tea, lingering over the crisp citrus flavor and taking a moment to just enjoy his surroundings.

Nezu watched him, his expression not really revealing anything, but Kenshin really never seemed to mind Nezu’s little idiosyncrasies. “Perhaps I could help you find an apartment?  I

may

know of a few open locations.”

Kenshin pours himself some additional tea and smiles at Nezu, “I would appreciate it.  I have benefitted from your judgement so far.”

And then the Bear-rat-man completely changes the subject, “What do you think of the System of Heroics in Japan? I am curious what it looks like to an outside perspective.”

Kenshin swirled his cup absently, and took a few moments to think over his answer.  “I think like any system, it has its flaws.” he lifts his gaze to his companion, “Ranking is based mostly on popularity, but popularity does not always coincide with what is best in humanity.  As far as current heroes…” He takes a quiet sip, then continues, “I think some are admirable. But I do not know if it is sustainable over time. All we can really do is try to prepare future heroes for what they will face, and mitigate the problems that arise.”  Kenshin smiles subtly at Nezu, “Much like government.”

Nezu almost cackles, “Well, coming from you. I think I believe it. How many wars were you in?”

Kenshin just smirks, “Too many.” The smile drops from his face too quickly however, and he doesn’t realize that his friend has noticed.

Showing a surprising amount of compassion, Nezu changes the subject back to something with less memories attached. “Well, I think I know of a couple of leads on apartments.  I will send you the details.” Nezu peeks into his empty cup.

Taking the hint, Kenshin reaches over to take the teapot and refills Nezu’s drink, “Thank you. I am hoping to find something close to the school or the train.” Kenshin pauses for a moment, then pulls his mind back from memory to the present moment, “So - your school, employs heroes and former heroes?”

Nezu nods. “Yes!  We try to hire the best, and our curriculum is designed to be the best for both the hero course as well as our other lines of education.”

“Does that mean that you are also a Pro-Hero?”

“Of course!  I’m often involved in analytics and finding leads on cases where others are unable to figure out the problem.” The mouse-bear’s tea-cup, remarkably, avoids sloshing everywhere when he uses it to gesture.

Kenshin nods, and lifting his eyes from his tea to his friend, continues, “I have been...well, I have never been good at standing by if someone needed help, and I have already been warned that stepping in without a license is, ah, illegal.”

Nezu hides his smile with his teacup and just listens.

“So I am thinking I will study for the exam.  Probably a terrible idea, in some ways. But I’d rather be prepared and able to help than not.”

“An admirable sentiment.” he cackles internally, but remains calm on the surface, “Will you go public? Or will you stick to the underground?”

“I think I will stick to myself, and whenever or wherever I happen to be needed.”

Nezu hums, placing his teacup back on the table.  “I see.” He peeks at Kenshin with his black eyes twinkling, “I will send you some study materials.  Let me know when you think you are ready to take the exams.”

The Austerium, Musutafu, Japan. July 21st, 2286

11:05am (1105)

Of the three apartments and condos that Nezu had sent him, this one was in the best location, and happened to be the most affordable.  That was also why Kenshin had saved it for last. He hated when things were too good to be true. Not that Kenshin really needs to worry about funds, a few lifetimes of working really helps as far as that goes. But if he keeps giving away money like he tends to do, then affordable couldn’t hurt.

Upon inspecting the condo, (under the gaze of the owner who eyes his hair and mutters something about foreigners)  It does seem that things are exactly as they were presented to be. The apartment has two bedrooms - much more space than he needs, frankly - but only one bathroom, and a smaller kitchen.  '

I can always use one of the bedrooms as an office, or guest room.'

There is a small balcony however, which Kenshin rather decides he likes when he steps out and enjoys the breeze for a moment.  '

Must less stifling than ground level

.'

The balcony overlooks a narrow side street with very few windows.  This building is taller than its neighbor, so the view while obstructed, isn’t too bad. There is only one other balcony on this level, also over the alleyway, and it appears to be a full apartment or two down from the one he is considering.  The real estate agent kept up a steady stream of information in the background, “...and each individual condo is soundproofed, and the condo association covers additional damage insurance in the case of villain attack.”

“Does that sort of thing happen often?”  Kenshin asks absently. Looking up from the balcony, he can see a decorative ridge, which

might

be possible to walk on, as well as an escape ladder to the roof.  ‘

Yes, this could do quite well.’

He tunes back in to the real estate agent belatedly, “...only in extreme circumstances.”

Oh.  Maybe he should have been paying attention.

Can’t ask now though.

He just nods slowly.

He had stopped by the neighborhood the night before, but all had seemed relatively quiet.  Even the corner store had less traffic than he might have expected from this close to the train station.  If he ever decides to get a car, the condo even has its own parking.

After getting the third degree from the owner, he is allowed to put in an application before he leaves, and hopes for the best.

Myōjin residence at Myōjin Dojo, Musutafu, Japan. July 26th, 2286

9:11pm (2111)

“...And that’s four.”   A breathless Amiko rests her hands on her knees, coming to a stop in front of Kenshin, and gasping for air.

“The last one was twice as slow as the second time around.  You must go faster. Catch your breath, and then one more time around the block before we call it a night.”

“Annngh.”

Amiko whines, still breathing heavily.

“And you can race

me

for complaining.  If I win, you must make me tea.” Kenshin smirks.

“That’s not fair! You always win!”

“Then you must go faster, so that I do not.”

Amiko just gives him a dirty look, but gives in, and continues to catch her breath.  Suddenly she takes off - heading to the corner of the block.

This startles a laugh from Kenshin, who runs after her, quickly overtaking the teenager.  “Good! Keep your opponents guessing! But also, run faster!”

She groans a bit and pushes herself as he runs past, and manages to mostly keep up with him (he does slow down a little) on the last lap around the block.  Keiko is waiting for them outside when they run back up - side by side.

Keiko smiled at her daughter, who collapsed for a moment on the sidewalk. “Humura-san, your phone was ringing.”  She said aside to Kenshin.

“Thank you!” he said, not even breathing hard yet, and walked on into the dojo where he had left his things.  He did have a missed call, and after listening to the message, he ran back outside.

“Good news!  I got the apartment!”

There is a half-hearted, breathless cheer from Amiko who is lying on the ground. Her mother laughs.

The Austerium, Musutafu, Japan. July 31st, 2286

8:45pm (2045)

Kenshin stands and gazes up at his new apartment with some anticipation and happiness.  The sun is shining (

granted, it is far too hot

), but he has temperature control in his condo and his furniture was delivered yesterday (

Oh, he his glad to have that over with

). In other news, he just picked up his first groceries from the local store.  He heads inside, humming happily to himself, and puts on some music from London that he had been fond of before he left.  He puts the groceries away, the food for dinner in his tiny oven to cook, and then gets to work on a few more boxes.

Unfortunately, between the loud music and unpacking, he doesn’t notice when the timer is up on his oven and it isn’t long before he realizes it’s getting rather smokey.  Right before the smoke alarm goes off, incidentally. Swearing, he pulls the offending meal from the oven, and rushes outside onto the balcony, leaving the door open for the smoke to clear.

He stands, not really sure what to do, holding his smoking food out at arms length over the alleyway.  A steady stream of swearing in English and every other language he knows coming from his mouth, the music and the smoke alarm continue blaring behind him.  Suddenly, he hears laughter, and looking over at the other balcony, realizes he is being observed.

There is a vaguely familiar man on the other balcony, laughing at him.  His hair is bright blonde and quite long, falling near his waist. He was wearing eye-catching pink sweatpants and a black tank top with ‘UA’ emblazoned on the chest.  He grasps breathlessly at the balcony railing to hold himself up, spilling a bit of his beer.

The smoke alarm behind him finally stops, drawing Kenshin’s attention back to the charred husk of a meal he is holding.

He sighs.

“Was that your dinner?”  the blond asks when his laughter has subsided, although there is still a broad smile across his face.

Kenshin looks back up at him.  “Yes.”

“Wait a sec,

listener

.”  The last word is in English, said with the kind of flair you’d expect from a man in bright pink sweatpants. The man heads inside his own apartment.

Kenshin decides the food is unsalvageable, and tosses it into the dumpster across the way in the alleyway below.  Good thing it was open. He doesn’t want to stink up his new condo any more than he already has.

‘Maybe I can order takeout?’

His thoughts are interrupted by a knock on his front door.  He heads back inside, turning the music down a bit, and goes to see who it is.  He is greeted by the blond man, holding a pot of udon which is still steaming, and two bowls.  “Welcome to the building!” He grins, “You’re lucky I had udon cooking.”

Kenshin blinks for a second, but then steps aside, his years as an “Englishman” kicking in.  “Thank you. Let me...clear a space.” He quickly walks over and moves the boxes on his counter onto the floor, and pulls the barstools up to the counter. “Sorry I’m still...unpacking.”

“I’m Yamada Hizashi.” The man introduces himself as he puts the pot on the stove and dishes some noodles into one of the bowls.  He pauses for a moment, “Um, did you want your oven still on?”

“Oro!”  He rushes over, shutting the oven off. “Sorry..about the noise and smoke and - well, sorry.”  '

Of course the first neighbor I meet would think I am a complete idiot.'

Kenshin reaches out by habit to introduce himself with a handshake, pauses, and then bows, flushing again, “Ah, Pleased to meet you.  I am Himura Kenshin.”

“For sure,

listener

!” Yamada smiles at him, but tilts his head thoughtfully as he settles onto one of the unpacked stools at the kitchen island. “That name sounds familiar.  Are you a model or something, neighbor?”

Kenshin flushes again, “Ah, no.  I’m a teacher.” He picks up the empty bowl and dishes himself some Udon, then puts the food at the free spot at the bar.  He then goes over and pulls a couple of beers from his fridge, lifting one with an unspoken question and looking at his guest.

The man nods, “Yes please.”  And Kenshin opens both beers and brings them back to the counter.

“So - just, not used to cooking?”  The man asks, smiling amusedly before he takes a bite of noodles.

The embarrassment on Kenshin’s cheeks has not abated.  He eats some Udon before he answers, “I didn’t hear the timer over the music.”

“Well, it certainly brought some excitement to the building.”  He grins again, sipping his beer and leaning against the counter.  “Good taste in music though.”

Kenshin slurps a noodle and looks up with surprise, “You like English music?”

The man laughs incredulously, “Do I like...English music?!” his green eyes twinkle merrily. “You could say that.”

Kenshin isn’t sure why that’s so funny.  The food is good though. “Well, it is not all that common in Japan.  Or well, at least it was not when I left.”

Yamada seems to take that as a challenge, listing some of his favorite contemporary bands, and then going back to his favorite bands of all time.  He even sings a snippet of an old Radiohead song and then flashes Kenshin a grin. His voice is pretty good.

Kenshin remembers attending a few of their concerts before they got “big”, and, well, died.

“Okay! I believe you; you like English music.”  Kenshin smiles, finishing off his bowl, “So do I.  I’ve actually been in London for the last few years, so I’ve grown rather fond of a lot of English things.”

“Really!”  Yamada suddenly switches to English, “

I happen to think English is a fine language and has many excellent qualities.

”  His accent more American than British, but it still startles Kenshin into a wide grin.

It isn’t long until they have bonded over English and questionable song choices.  The beer no doubt helps. Soon they’re testing each other’s song knowledge, saying random lyrics and having the other guess the band and song. Hizashi is winning, much to Kenshin’s dismay. Eventually, the cheater reveals he’s a radio host and actually needs to know these things.

It is completely unfair and the thrown chopstick is completely justified.

Yamada is the one that notices the stack of Hero Exam study materials shoved onto a corner of one of the sofa tables as he’s collecting the wayward chopstick. “Ah!  Are you studying? Or just curious?”

He glances over to see what Yamada is referring to, “Ah - I am - both?  I’m helping someone study, but also studying myself, among other things.”

Yamada smiles, his eyes twinkling, “Well, let me know if you ever want some tips.  I actually know quite a few Pros.”

“Really?  That would be most kind of you. I know one, but he seems very busy.”  Kenshin can’t quite suppress the yawn that squeezes its way out, and he blinks a few times.

Hizashi laughs, “I’ll let you get to sleep.  Not everyone is a night owl like me.” He starts gathering up his dishes and the remaining Udon.

Kenshin smiles sheepishly and helps clean up, then holds the door for him when he’s ready to go, “Thank you again, Yamada-san.  I have had a much better evening than I would have on my own. I do not have many friends.” '

I really should invite Yagi over soon.  I can cook a proper meal when everything is unpacked.'

Hizashi pauses suddenly, “Oh, hey…”  He juggles dishes and things, setting them down on the floor for a moment, and takes out his phone.  “What’s your number? Then I can coordinate things when everyone is available? Or we can just save you from your awful cooking at random times. You can meet Shouta!”

Hizashi’s question breaks through Kenshin’s thoughts, “Oro! Here.”  he takes the phone briefly, and enters in his information, handing it back when he is done.

“Speaking of which, you should come out tomorrow night!  A bunch of us are going to go do Karaoke.”

Kenshin flushes, “I do not think you would like it if I sang.  Besides, I need to study and prepare lesson plans for next week.”

Yamada shoves it into his pocket, “Next time then?  You can’t hide in your apartment forever!” He grins and re-collects the dishes, “Good night, Himura-san!”

“Good night, Yamada-sama.  It was good to meet you!”

Sea Glass Cafe, Musutafu, Japan, August 8th, 2286

2:17pm (1417)

“Thank you, Midoriya-san”, Yagi smiles at the barista as she brings over their tea.  “It was very kind of you to keep my blend in stock. I am sorry I haven’t been in lately.”

The barista flushes visibly, “Ah, it is no problem, Yagi-san.  You are the only person who drinks that one!”

Kenshin laughs when Yagi’s cheeks glow as he is caught watching the barista walk back to the bar.  “You could just ask her out, you know.”

Yagi looks down at the table, lips cocked in a half-smile, “Ah, but it wouldn’t be fair to her.  I am damaged.”

Kenshin’s mind briefly flits to the conversation with the Quirk doctor, and wonders if he could have helped Henry when he had the chance.  His eyes rest on Yagi’s side consideringly, “Is it very bad?”

Yagi smiles at his friend, “Do not let it worry you, Dear Himura-san.”

“You may call me Kenshin.”  Their eyes meet, Kenshin’s gaze earnest.

Yagi flushes again and shifts uneasily in his chair, “Ah, thank you..Kenshin. You can call me Toshinori.  If you want.”

Sensing his friends desire to change the subject, Kenshin complies, “So, I have moved in to my new apartment!  It is quite nice, you should come see it sometime!”

Yagi pours his tea, and takes a sip before answering, “I would like that.  Where is it again? The ‘Austerium?’”

“Yes!  I can even make you some food and try to fatten you up.  You are very thin, Toshinori-san,” Kenshin laughed. Toshinori’s face burns brighter.

He spluttered from a moment.  “Oh, It is quite all right. I do not think I can get much more...fit.  My condition you see.” his voice lowers, making sure they are not overheard, “I, I can not really eat much.  I’ve had a number of surgeries. I’m very limited on what I can eat when I do, unfortunately.”

Kenshin hums, “Well, if you are comfortable sending me a list of what you can eat, I will try to make something you will like?”

Yagi seems surprised that his friend cares enough to try, but smiles warmly, “That would be kind of you.”

Kenshin sips his tea, his mind wandering again to what the Quirk doctor had said.  Perhaps he could contact him and see if there was any way he could help Toshinori.

The Austerium, Musutafu, Japan. August 9th, 2286

01:05am (0105)

It had been an odd phone conversation.  Kenshin had reminded Doctor Hikimoto’s staff who he was, and evidently the hero commission doctor remembered because he had come to the phone almost immediately.  He would be going in for some additional tests, and Doctor Hikimoto would be working with Yagi’s doctor to see if they could think of anything that might help. '

Maybe, just maybe, I could be of use to my friend.

It will be hard not to mention it - I do not want to get his hopes up though, if there ends up being nothing I can do.'

He had come home and made himself a cup noodle, not really feeling up to cooking, but knowing he should eat.  It had not been very good. It was the kind of lonely night that he had often spent looking for things to do and people to help, but with the laws here - he did not think the police would be as kind a second time around. '

Maybe I should text Yamada and see what he is up to?'

After wallowing in his now clean apartment for a while, too restless to study but too wound up to sleep, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler and tried to numb things enough to relax.  After the second glass he lost track of time and just started drinking out of the bottle, wishing he didn’t burn off the alcohol so quickly.

Eventually, after trying in vain to study while also trying to numb his brain he decides its too quiet.  He turns the music of the Present Mic show on to play in the background, and he wanders back out to the balcony.  Lifting his eyes to the stars that he could see through the clouds and around the buildings, he took another swig of his whiskey and decided he wouldn’t be good company anyway.

It was at that moment that he caught the movement of someone dropping to the other balcony in the alleyway.  '

Is someone trying to break in to Yamada’s condo?  Is it just him?'

“Yamada, is that you?”

The man turns, his face partially in shadow but a flash of yellow at his neck.  Violet eyes meet red eyed gaze briefly, the man’s hair lifting in a halo around his head.

Kenshin releases a stunned exclamation from his lips “Its you?!”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Austerium, Kenshin’s Apartment, Musutafu, Japan. August 9th, 2286

01:10am (0110)
 
Only a few seconds later and Kenshin finds his partial buzz burning off, as he is wrapped tightly in grey bands that fly across the space between the two balconies, followed quickly by the man himself.  The man’s eyes are sharp, and Kenshin feels his feet lift from the ground as he is pushed against the wall.
 
“Who are you?!  Do you know me? Speak up!”  The man growls. His face is scratched, and there is blood on his clothes and soaking through one of his sleeves. “Did you follow me here?!”
 
“Oro!  I did not follow you! If anything, you’ve been following me!”  
 
The man growls, and Kenshin shifts his arms against the flexible metal-weave capture weapon, trying to figure out if he can break free if this man has lost his mind. “I live here!”  
 
There is a pause, and he feels his feet slowly lower to the ground, and the bands relax.  A sheepish expression briefly crosses a tired face. “Forgive me. I overreacted. I do not remember you though.” 
 
“Are you hurt?  You are bleeding.”  Kenshin grasps the man’s arm without thinking and he tenses again, flinching.  He slowly relaxes as Kenshin examines what was probably a knife wound. “You should get this stitched up. Come, inside.”
 
Kenshin goes inside, putting the whiskey on the counter as he passes, not even looking to see if he is followed.  He comes back into the main room shortly, carrying a first aid kit and a clean glass. The man’s odd weapon was wrapped like a scarf again.  He had come in, and was standing awkwardly near the counter, staring at the radio as it continues playing the Present Mic show.

“..Another great hit from our favorite new band, KDA!  This next one goes out to someone near and dear, Give it up

Dear Listeners

for Five Knights and their new song, ‘Sunset with You.’”

A drop of blood fell from his finger and hit the stone of the floor, stark against the lightly coloured tile.
 
Kenshin puts the kit next to the whiskey bottle and smiles at his unexpected guest, “Rough night?” He gestures to the bar stool and pours him a tumbler full from the bottle.
 
Scarf man sits and watches him, seemingly confused and obviously unsure. “Are you a doctor or something?”
 
“No.  I’m a teacher.  Just patched a lot of people up in the war. And myself, occasionally.”  Kenshin offers the glass to his stalker,

Well, maybe not stalker - the man does not seem to remember me

, “It will help with the pain while I stitch you up.” 
 
The tired eyed man watches him take a drink from the bottle before sipping from the glass, but submits to Kenshin’s aid. Kenshin washes his hands, and then begins to clean the other man’s injuries.  He hisses a little as Kenshin pulls the sleeve away from where it has stuck to the wound. Working quickly, Kenshin does a passable job of stitching it up before putting on some ointment and bandaging it. “There.  Anywhere else?” He asks the darkly clad man, who is still watching him carefully. 
 
“No.  That was the worst one.”
 
“As you wish, then.”  Kenshin smiles and begins to clean up the mess while making small talk.  “Do you like English music? This is my favorite station here so far.” He ties the bloodied bandages into a bag and puts it in the trash, then goes over to the sink to wash his hands. “I met a man a little bit ago that has his own radio show.  He even lives here in the building, pretty cool huh?”
 
“Ah..yes.  I have met him.” The corner of his mouth twitches subtly like he wants to smile, but falls back into his usual deadpan expression. “Thank you for stitching me up.  It is much easier when you do not need to do it yourself.”
 
“No problem.”  Kensin consider him for a moment, but can’t help but ask.  “You do not remember me at all, do you?”
 
The man shakes his head slightly, scanning him consideringly with black tired eyes. “No.  Have we met?”
 
Kenshin huffs in amusement, “Yes.  But don’t worry about it.”
 
The man stands, downs the rest of the glass of whiskey, and then heads back to the balcony.  He pauses in the doorway, speaking over his shoulder, but not fully turning around. “Thank you again, and sorry for my overreaction.  I wasn’t sure who you were, and I hadn’t remembered anyone living here.”
 
“I understand.” Kenshin replies, but the man was already gone.

Is it the same man?

Kenshin can’t help but think over all the times they have run into each other, trying to see if there were any differences (besides the lack of blood) between the man he had just aided and the encounters previously.

Is it just a family thing?  So many years of memories and they can’t help but blend together in some parts, and blur in others.  Perhaps it was someone different? It isn’t possible to be the same person after all - that would mean that he was also immortal.  But the scarf, and the hair.

..Kenshin sighs, and tries to turn his mind to other, less circular and frustrating things. 
  
Hero Commission West Offices, Yamaguchi Clinic, Tokyo, Japan, August 21st, 2286

9:10am (0910)
 
He had been surprised to hear back from Doctor Hikimoto so quickly, and even more surprised to be allowed to meet him on a Saturday.  Yet, here he found himself using his weekend to meet the Doctor back at the clinic. Evidently, they took turns on weekend shifts, since hero clients were their primary responsibility and they often had odd hours.
 
“I have consulted Dr. Yamaguchi and Recovery Girl, and both seem to think it may be of some benefit from your quirk with Yagi-san’s condition.  We will unfortunately need a significant amount of blood in order to run our tests, so we will be taking a sample today, and another in a weeks time. You must eat enough and drink enough to replenish your blood supply sufficient for the draws.  I’ve written out a suggested diet for you.” He hands Kenshin a list with a smile, his expression excited. “This could mean many good things for many people. Possible breakthroughs in medical science. Thank you for agreeing to these tests.”
 
“You are most welcome.  It is an honor for this one to help others however I may be of service.” Kenshin replied formally, trying to calm his inner nervousness.

Damn needles.

It always seemed to boil down to that.  And besides. What if this ended up being used for bad things?

Who knows what evil could be lurking behind the government clinic?

He is noticeably lightheaded after the blood draw.  Dr. Hikimoto makes him sit and drink some orange juice and eat a cookie before he is allowed to leave.  Another hour later, and he is on his way.

Hopefully one step closer to helping Yagi-sama.

On the way to the station his phone buzzes.  He pulls it from his pocket and checks the messages, finding one from Amiko from earlier and a more recent one from Yamada.  
 
Myōjin the Younger:
Hi!  Mom said I can go out with my friends tonight, so can we please skip this weekend?  I promise I will work extra hard on my own this week!
 
Kenshin replied:
 
Evergreen:
 I will check with you mid week to check your progress!  Have fun with your friends!
 
He checked the next one.
 
Radio Head:
Be ready at 7pm tonight!  No getting out of it this time!  I’ll text you the address!
 
Kenshin sighed.  He really didn’t have a valid excuse this time.  
 
Evergreen:
fine.
 
Evergreen:
I’ll be there.
 
Radio Head:
!!!
 
Radio Head:
(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ
 
Evergreen:
Why are you like this.
   
The Austerium, Kenshin’s Apartment, Musutafu, Japan. August 21st, 2286

6:40pm (1840)
 
Kenshin arrived home that day, made himself a meal off the list the good doctor had given him, and sat down to wait for the arrival of Yamada and his friends. It would be interesting to go out with someone so...loud. Kenshin would easily admit that if they hadn’t met by pure chance, or perhaps coincidence, he would not have ever made friends with Yamada by himself. It was a good thing, though, that he wouldn’t need to worry about that. Yamada

was

a good friend, if rather loud and enthusiastic.
 
Checking his phone again to make sure he had the time correct, he notices a string of emojis and then a gif of a dog that changes colors.  Yamada and his friends are crazy.
 
The doorbell rings, and before Kenshin can put down his food to go open it, a woman bursts through. She is tall for an asian woman, near 5’9” by Kenshin’s guess. She has long, silky black hair that falls in a strange mix of curls and spike-like straightness; confusing yet entertaining to the eyes. She has on a pair of tight artfully shredded jeans and slightly revealing red blouse that has Keshin looking back to her face with a flush. She has startling blue eyes, mischievous and bright, hidden behind a pair of sensible red glasses.
 
“Oh,” she says after a moment. “You are not Hizashi.”
 
“I..am not.” Kenshin looks around for something else to say and his eyes land on the remaining food in the pot on the stove. “Would you like some katsudon? Yamada-sama will be by later, if you’d like to wait.” Her gaze follows his gesture to the near overflowing pot (he’d made plenty of extra, this time). He had a habit of giving away his lunches to the homeless woman down the street on his way to work. Sometimes, she had him watch her kids when she went to find odd jobs. Nice lady. He was weak for the struggling.  “I am Himura Kenshin.”
 
The woman’s eyes landed back on him and looked him up and down consideringly. “So

you’re

the new friend ‘Zashi was talking about!” She said, grinning. She sauntered over and plopped herself on the stool beside him, leaning close to coyly wink. “We’re going to have lots of fun, you and I,” she said mischievously.
 
Kenshin could see there was no real flirtatious intent behind the words, and grinned back. “I can see we’ll be great friends…?”
 
“Call me Nemuri.” She purred jokingly, and Kenshin laughed. Great friends indeed. 
 
“I suppose you can call me Kenshin?” He had grown out of the discomfort of using his first name in the first 60 years or so in the UK.
 
“So…” she pauses for a couple of bites, “How come I haven’t met you before?” she gestures with her chopsticks, “You aren’t avoiding us are you?  We’re nice people!”
 
Kenshin chuckles, “Ah, just busy?  I’ve been teaching at Musutafu Prep, and my free time has mostly been grading or studying or tutoring.” his thoughts continue on their own, his expression becoming more somber, ‘

Well, that and I’ve had trouble making friends for years.  It’s so hard to befriend people only to lose them later.’

Nemuri wrinkles her nose subtly, not realizing he’s lost in thought, “Sounds awful.”  she smirks to let him know she’s joking. “I’m a teacher as well. But you need to get out!  You don’t want to burn yourself out.”
 
“Oh?  What do you teach?”
 
Her answer is interrupted by a knock on the door.  This person however waits for Kenshin to get up to open it.
 
“Himura!” He is greeted by an enthusiastic Hizashi.  “We are going to have a blast tonight! Hey Nemuri! I see you found him already,”  he flashes Kenshin a bright grin. “Oh, have you met Shouta?”
 
The tired looking man - now looking much cleaner and actually quite handsome when not trying to attack him or bleeding on his floor, follows Hizashi inside. “We have met.” he replies, without much expression. “I am Aizawa Shouta.”
 
“Shouuutaaa...You didn’t tell me you met him already?!  When did you meet?” Yamada drapes himself on Aizawa’s shoulder.  
 
Kenshin is surprised the man doesn’t flinch from how loud the blond is right next to his ear. He closes the door to the hallway and wanders back toward his seat, following them over to Nemuri.  He realizes this is the same man he patched up (

and who may or may not be the same man stalking him through time

) at about the same time that he realizes that Yamada and the man appear to be friends.  “Oro! Ah...the other night? He was…” Kenshin pauses, briefly wondering if he should be telling people about the dark haired man’s night activities, before he realizes that is stupid and everyone here likely already knows.
 
The man’s dark eyes meet his briefly, some amusement in them although not reaching his voice, “He was kind enough to stitch my shoulder after I attacked him.”
 
Nemuri cackles. “Oh?”
 
“Not like that!”  Aizawa hisses, and Yamada smirks at them both.
 
“That’s what she said.”  Kenshin murmurs without thinking. Then flushes.
 
Nemuri grins at Kenshin like he is her new favorite toy, and shovels some additional katsu into her mouth.
 
“There is katsudon, please help yourselves!” He recovers belatedly.
 
The two men dish themselves some food, and Kenshin provides them all drinks. He realizes, as he pulls his last beer out of the fridge, that he’ll need to get some stronger stuff soon if her doesn’t want to go broke. Yamada, at least, will drink him out of house and home.
 
“You didn’t have to feed us, you know.” Yamada smiles at him as he sits down with them. “When we invite you out you are allowed to just...come out!”  
 
Kenshin flushes again, “I know.  I just - like Katsudon. I do not mind sharing.”
 
“Where is Iida? Shouldn’t he be here by now?” Nemuri asks Hizashi.
 
“He’s going to meet us there,” Hizashi explains, “The butthead doesn’t get off work until later.”
 
“But we’ve been planning this forever!” She pouts, “I bet he’s just tired of me trying to set him up.”
 
“Everyone who knows you is tired of you trying to set them up.” Aizawa deadpans. 
 
Kenshin blinks. Should he be more concerned for his safety?
 
“Aizawa, why do you attack me like this?”  Nemuri sniffles dramatically, then turns to Kenshin flashes him a grin. “At least Himura here appreciates me!”
 
Kenshin watches their banter with amusement while they all finish eating, then gathers the dishes and washes them while everyone talks. “You must have all known each other a long time.” He eventually interjects.
 
“We went to Highschool together!” Yamada wraps an arm around both Shouta and Nemuri, both of whom allow it, “For that matter, we still go to Highschool together.”  He grins.
 
Kenshin is a bit lost, but smiles.  “That must have been nice.”
 
Aizawa smirks briefly, glancing sideways at Hizashi, “Depends on the day.”
 
“I am wounded!”  Yamada dramatically clutches his chest and they all laugh. 
  
Karaoke Dreams, Musutafu, Japan. August 21st, 2286

8:45pm (2045)
 
Eventually, they do have to leave Kenshin’s house lest they lose their reserved room. The streets are alive; lights and people everywhere. Had Kenshin not lived in the city for a long while, he would be overwhelmed by the crowds and loud adverts. This part of the city however is even more eye catching than most. They come to a stop before a tacky yellow sign and head inside a slightly shady-looking building between an office and a restaurant. Inside, thankfully, is far cleaner than advertised. The floors are polished marble (likely fake) and the walls are a dark stained wood. There is a small hallway inside the door that opens up to the lobby, where the male receptionist (looking rather like he’s about to fall asleep) sits. To the sides there are two hallways lined with red-doored rooms where people can karaoke with their friends.
 
Kenshin allows himself to be dragged along by Yamada, followed sedately by Nemuri and Aizawa, who cheerfully informs the exhausted receptionist that they have a reservation. He looks through his computer before glancing at Yamada’s ID halfheartedly and pointing them down a hallway with vague directions. Really, he just tells them the room number.
 
Nemuri and Yamada take one look at each other and then dash down the hallway, yelling something about dibs on first song. Aizawa sighs, pulling a yellow sleeping bag from nowhere before following behind. They arrive in a richly appointed room that has much the same color scheme as the rest of the building. There are red leather couches and a circular white coffee table set up facing a full-wall touchscreen with lists of popular songs. Yamada is already scrolling through them white Nemuri looks on for a moment pouting.  She goes over to the table and pulls up the drink menu while Aizawa takes it upon himself to claim the entirety of one of the small couches. Being about six feet tall, however, his legs stick off the end. 
 
Nemuri and Yamada are the most into it, belting pop songs and bad hip hop into the microphone while Kenshin and Aizawa look on in a progressive state of drunkenness. Eventually, Aizawa is convinced to sing a slow, crooning English song from the Jazz craze of the US, and Kenshin is given the microphone and forced to sing a stilted rendition of a KDA song he barely remembers the words to. Nemuri challenges him to a drinking game that involves a shot any time someone mentions love, pain, or sex. Kenshin begins to sense a theme. 
 
Then, about another hour and a full bottle of liquor later, their friend Tensei shows up. He has dark hair and broad shoulders, his face smiling and kind. His square glasses compliment his angular face.  He comes off looking like the classically handsome Japanese man, save for his polo shirt and jeans. His sneakers are old and worn, but he is otherwise perfectly put together. The only oddity perhaps is that he looks exhausted, but seems just as excited as Nemuri is to try and out-rap eachother. Neither of them do very well.  Kenshin ends up finishing the bottle of sake with Yamada’s help, and they order another.
 
Eventually Aizawa is peeled out of his sleeping bag and asked to mediate a sing/drink off between Nemuri and Yamada.  Tensei joins Kenshin on one of the couches and they both watch with a pleasant buzz. “So you must be Himura?” Tensei asks him with a smile.
 
“Oro!” Kenshin blushes, “I forgot to introduce myself!  Yes, I am Himura Kenshin. You are …..Ten-sei?” Kenshin realizes that he has no idea if that is his first name or last - he’s only ever heard him referred to as Tensei.
 
Iida laughs, “Yes, Iida Tensai, pleased to finally meet you.  Yamada said he would be inviting you but you always seem to be busy?”
 
Kenshin blushes again, “Ah, yes.  I am frequently busy teaching or tutoring, or studying..” he trails off.
 
“You’re a teacher too then?  Nice! I work in the family business.” Tensei replies while watching Yamada perfectly execute the lyrics and dance moves to one of the songs. Nemuri jumps in with backups. Somehow they’ve managed to get Aizawa to stay awake while he watches, a soft smile on his face and a drink in his hand.
 
“What does your family do?” Kenshin asks curiously. His semi-alcohol sodden mind isn’t moving too quickly.
 
Tensei turns his dark blue eyes to Kenshin, in the low light they look almost black, and regards him with an incredulous expression for a moment.  “You really don’t know?”
 
Kenshin’s smile falters, “Should I?” ‘

Did I say something wrong??’

A breathless Nemuri takes that moment to collapse across Tensai and Kenshins’ laps, wrapping one arm around Kenshin’s shoulders. “Sing boys!  We

are

here to sing, you know - or do you need me to make you sing?” She adds suggestively with a flash of a grin.
 
Kenshin laughs and shoots back with a teasing grin, ”Not tonight

darling

, work in the morning after all.”  He knows by this point she’s completely shameless and it can’t hurt to play along.
 
Tensei’s face turns bright red and he coughs on his drink while Nemuri laughs.  
 
Shifting herself, she slides her other arm around Tensei’s shoulders so she’s sitting between them both. “Such a tease.  Yamada sure can pick them out.” She squeezes them together.
 
“I can do what now?” Hizashi grins, flopping down on Tensei’s other side. 
 
“Lose to me in a drinking contest of course.” Nemuri smirks.
 
Hizashi however sees immediately through her un-logical ruse, “NOooOOooOO.” He says, deafening all of them. Aizawa tosses a pillow from one of the other couches, which hits him in the side of his head, cutting off his exclamation. He continues, seemingly without noticing, “You are

Flirting

with my new friend (the capital F is obvious).  You aren’t allowed to steal anymore of them!”
 
“Whatever do you mean?” Nemuri purrs.
 
“STOLENNN!”  Yamada doesn’t clarify.
 
Tensai laughs, and leaning over Nemuri’s lap, tries to explain over the argument that ensues between Yamada and Nemuri, but Kenshin can’t hear him over the music and argument around him.
 
“Oro!” Kenshin says with a grin to Tensei, “You are all quite entertaining!”
 
Tensei grins back, “Thanks?”
 
Hizashi suddenly pulls Nemuri up from between them, causing Tensei to fall into Kenshin’s lap for a moment.  The two men blink at each other and Tensei pops quickly up, spluttering and red, “Hizashi!!”
 
Kenshin giggles and then pauses, looking at his cup.

‘Perhaps I have had enough to drink.’

He is obviously mistaken, because it is a full two additional bottles of liquor before he blearily notices the clock on the wall reads 3 in the morning. Aizawa is out.  Yamada is definitely winding down, and Tensei and Nemuri are singing some love ballad together while they finish off of the last bottle. It is to those pleasant background songs that Kenshin drifts out of consciousness. 
  
The Austerium/ Kenshin’s Apartment, Musutafu, Japan. August 22nd, 2286

4:40am (0440)
 
He is dreaming rather pleasantly of floating down a river in the woods like a swirling leaf.  He can feel the ebb and flow of the water, the changes in current that swirl him about dizzily.  The breeze is cold on his face and he drops suddenly into a lower section of the river when voices start to interrupt his musing.
 
“Don’t drop him!  Here - let me take him.” 
 
He vaguely notices being passed to some well muscled arms and snuggles up to the warmth of whomever it is with a half smile, still obviously dreaming. “Hmm, warm” he mumbles.  His dream giggles. How rude.
 
“Aww, so cute!” another voice interjects.  He has faded back into the river dream, which for some reason has become an oil painting for a while with Henry painting the river he is floating on, when suddenly the voices come up again.
 
“Did you try the door?  Hey buddy, where are your keys?” He feels his shoulder slightly jostled and hears Yamada’s voice. 
 
“s’ not locked.” Kenshin answers, not really awake. 
 
And then he is placed into his nice soft bed, and knows no more.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Austerium, Kenshin’s Apartment, Musutafu, Japan. August 21st, 2286

10:22am (1022)
 Kenshin goes from asleep to awake almost instantly.  Something is different. He is alone, so that is not it.  The light is much brighter than usual…    He licks his lips, and realizes the awful dry mouth and lingering aftertaste means he must have been drinking.  It has been a long while since he drank enough to sleep this deeply. Sitting up, he sighs at the realization that he is also still wearing the same clothing as the day before.   Stripping out of the alcohol sweat gross clothing he makes his way into the shower.  After a quick soak under the hot water he is feeling much better, and he wraps a towel around his waist before attending to his tangled hair.  Once it is at least brushed and loose, drying, he heads into the kitchen to see about some coffee with it loose over his shoulders. It is only after he has ground some fresh beans and started the percolator that he hears an appreciative chuckle, “Good Morning to me!” from the couch, “You are fit aren’t you?” “Oro!” Kenshin turns around, momentarily startled there is someone else in his house and that he didn’t notice, and is faced with Nemuri in a pose that would be more appropriate in french art than on his couch.  He chuckles back, “I’m assuming that we’re still friends, then? I didn’t do anything too silly?” She eyes him consideringly, gaze floating over his many scars, and seems to decide something before sliding back into a more normal relaxed pose, “Not necessarily,” Her eyes are laughing at him, so he has a feeling he has entered a friendship of blackmail. “But, perhaps you should get dressed before the others come back over?” He actually blushes for a moment, “Oro!”  Nemuri’s laughter chases him down the hallway to put on something more appropriate than a towel.   When Kenshin re-emerges, Nemuri has helped herself to his cupboards and prepared them both some coffee from the fresh pot. Kenshin thanks her, and takes a few sips before digging into his fridge for eggs, “Do you like English style breakfasts?” He asks, from inside the fridge. “How about french toast?” “Sounds good to me!” she replies, heading to the door, “Make sure you have enough for everyone - I’ll be right back!”  The door closes behind her before Kenshin emerges from the fridge, blinking at the door. He shrugs and begins preparing breakfast, hoping that he knows what “everyone” entails. About 20 minutes later, Nemuri returns, once again walking straight in without knocking. Behind her is a cheery Mic, wearing the pink sweatpants and the black UA tanktop that Kenshin had met him in.  Behind him is Tensei, carrying a yellow sleeping bag with a hungover looking Aizawa peeking out of it.  “This is kidnapping.” Aizawa informs them in a deadpan tone. “Your house is next door.” Tensei reminds him and drops him on the now vacant couch. “I have been moved against my will.”  Tensei wanders over to the counter, glancing back and forth between Kenshin (who has obviously showered) and Nemuri (who has not). “So...sleep well?” Nemuri just smirks and leans on the counter, sipping her coffee.  Kenshin looks up from the stove, not seeing the interaction between them, “Yes.  Quite well. You?” “Don’t you want to have breakfast with me?”  Mic peers at Aizawa over the top of the couch, providing his best puppy dog eyes.  The cocoon mumbles. Kenshin serves up the last of the french toast and watches them. There is a pause, and then Aizawa sits up, “Fine.”  He somehow manages to pour himself out of the still zipped sleeping bag, and make it to the breakfast bar in the kitchen.   Mic walks cheerily into the kitchen behind him and pours them both a mug of coffee, emptying the pot. Tensei sighs at the now empty pot, looking pathetic, and Nemuri takes in his expression and laughs at him, “I can make some for you, poor boy.” A short while later, all of them have coffee and a plate of breakfast, although none of them are at the actual table, but rather gathered around the breakfast bar.  Hizashi gestures with his fork at the stack of hero exam materials, “How is your studying going?” “Quite well!  I think I am close to ready to take the exam.  It would be good to take it before my protege does, so that I can be a better guide for her in what to expect.” He laughs, “Also it would be embarrassing if she got a license before me.” “You have a protege?” Tensei asks curiously. “Like an intern?” “Don’t be silly Tensei,” Nemuri speaks up, “he can’t have interns, he’s not a pro hero yet.” Her eyes flick back down to his now covered scars, but she doesn’t say anything. “Internships are not just for Pro-Heros,” Aizawa grumbles - the first words he’s spoken since beginning to drink his coffee, “Many occupations use interns.” “Hmm, what is she your intern for then? You teach, right?” Tensei asks. “She’s not really an intern, just a middle school student.  She asked me to help her train to be a Hero, and I agreed. I am a friend of the family.” Kenshin explains.  “I don’t really know many Pro-Heros, so I am doing the best I can.” They all stare at him for a moment. Hizashi speaks up, “Kenshin-san, we’re all Pro-Heros.  Didn’t you know?” Kenshin blinks, “Even you?  I thought you were a radio host.” Nemuri busts out laughing, “ Oh , this is priceless.  I thought he was just being polite! This is great!” Aizawa interjects, “Obviously he didn’t know. You call yourself a Pro?” There’s laughter behind the words, however, so Nemuri just sticks her tongue out at him. “All of you??” Kenshin repeats.   Aizawa grumbles, “Don’t go telling people.  You do know where we live after all.” “I would never!” Kenshin swears, bowing as formally as he can while sitting at the table, “I am honored to be taken into your confidence and I will keep your secrets as my own.” Tensei snorts out a laugh, “I..don’t -  Just keep being yourself, okay? Most of our identities are on public record anyway.” he says with an open smile, “Aizawa is the only ninja here.” “Ninja, what clan?”  Kenshin takes Tensei’s words at face value and Nemuri cracks up again. “No, I’m an underground hero.  I don’t have a public identity because it would give villians an advantage to know my quirk.” Aizawa explains. Tensei gets up to refill his coffee, and Aizawa’s words sink in to Kenshin’s mind, “Where we live?  Do you all live together then?” He looks at the others in the room. Tensei nearly spits out his coffee. Nemuri laughs again. Aizawa just gives Tensei a look and and then returns his gaze to Kenshin, “I work with very dangerous cases and villains underground.  It would put Hizashi in more danger to have them know we are together.” “Aww, you know I can take care of myself.” The yellow haired man squeezes the dark lump of exhaustion to his side.  Aizawa doesn’t react outwardly; but notably does not pull away. “Ah, Congratulations then!”  Kenshin smiles at them both, “I’m glad you found each other!” Hizashi grins at Nemuri “Pay up!” Aizawa just groans as Nemuri pulls out some bills and hands them over. “Fine, he’s cool.” Tensei watches amusedly, “You bet on his reaction to you two being together?” Hizashi hums ‘We are the Champions’ and Aizawa turns back to Kenshin, who is smiling. “Back on topic. I’m Eraserhead. Hizashi is Present Mic, a radio Host, and a Teacher as well.” Nemuri strikes a pose, “I’m Midnight, the 18+ hero.” “That...makes sense.”  Kenshin flashes a grin at her, which she returns. Tensei joins them again at the counter, “I’m Ingenium. Both of my parents were heros, so I grew up with it.” he adjusts his glasses and grins at Kenshin, “Come up with a good hero name, because you’ll be stuck with it. Do you know what you want it to be, since you plan on taking the test?” “I - have not really thought about it yet.  I will have to consider it further.” Mic jumps in, “OOoooo!  I can come up with a name for you.  I’m great at names!” Aizawa grumbles, “He’s lying.” Mic gives him a look like he’s just kicked a puppy.  Relenting, Aizawa sighs again, “You should choose a name that means something to you.  Just as mine does.” Mic perks up again.  Tensei flashes a glance at Nemuri, and then turns his gaze back to Kenshin, “I can help you train for the exams if you want - both the physical and written exams.” Kenshin blinks at him and then grins happily, “Thank you.  I would like that.” They continue to eat and talk until their plates and mugs are empty, and then Tensei gets up to gather the dishes. When he’s taken them to the sink, a picture Kenshin has hung up catches his eye. “Who are they?” he asks, gesturing to the picture of Kenshin with two foreign Heros. He waves his empty mug for emphasis when Kenshin looks up to see what he’s talking about. Kenshin smiles warmly at the photograph, “Ah, that is Ladybug and Chat Noir.  I met them while I was in Paris. Chat still writes from time to time.” “Are they pro-heros then?”  Iida continues with Nemuri following behind, her hands full of the other dishes. “Not exactly like here, but yes.  They pretty much protect the entire city.” “Wow, it’s like the old days then! Not enough heroes to go around!” Nemuri adds. Aizawa answers for Kenshin, “Japan is particular about their heroes. I believe we are the only place with hero schools besides the U.S.” “PLUS ULTRA,” Hizashi shouts. Tensei throws his mug at the other man and it hits Aizawa’s sleeping bag. Kenshin manages to catch it before it hits the ground, and breathes a sigh of relief. Those were a gift from the Greens. His thoughts momentarily are distracted, wondering how they are doing. “Perhaps not particular enough,” Nemuri teases, not reacting at all to the antics of her friend, “But yes, we’re pretty lucky. Some of our teachers told us First Gen heroes didn’t have anything to prepare them for hero work. Seems horrifying, given what happens to heroes who are trained.” “Even training can’t prepare you for everything.” Kenshin says, thinking of four wars and many friends lost to a moment of distraction. “But perhaps, with enough older heroes watching their backs, our younger generation won’t need to be prepared for everything when they graduate.” He smiles. “More tea? Coffee?” 
Idaten Hero Agency Offices, Hosu City, Japan.  September 13th, 2286

3:28pm (1528)
 “Ah, excuse me?” Kenshin, still in his suit after a day of classes, tries to get the attention of the receptionist facing away from him. “Could I help you?”  The young man asks, looking him over. Kenshin pauses briefly, ‘ I should have called ahead, I do not even know if Iida is here!’ inhaling, he responds, “Ah, I am here to see Iida. Is he in?” The man lifts an eyebrow. Kenshin gets the impression that a lot of people come in to meet the Iida’s. “Which one, and do you have an appointment?” Kenshin flushes, “Oro, ah, Iida Tensei please?  He is not expecting me, but he invited me to stop by.  I am Himura Kenshin.” “I see,” says the young man neutrally, “I will call up and let him know you are here. Please have a seat.”  He gestures to a small sitting area near the elevators. “Thank you.”  Kenshin replies, and wanders over to fidget in the lobby, still standing. It is about twenty minutes later when Iida comes in from outside, in full hero gear, and hurries over to Kenshin, removing his helmet and holding it under his arm. “Himura-san, are you alright?  I was out on patrol, is everything ok?” He looks concerned, the sweat on his brow highlighted by the artificial fixtures. Kenshin flushes guiltily, “I am fine!  I didn’t mean to interrupt your work. I was just stopping by since I had some free time, I thought if you were also free, perhaps we could work on studying or sparring? But I see you are busy.” He pauses to appreciate Iida’s costume and quirks a half-smile, “I had not realised I was in the presence of a Knight.” Iida laughs, “Well, if you are going to be a hero, may as well go all the way! Anyway, don’t sweat it. Patrol was finished anyway, so I was glad to hear you were here.  How is studying going so far?”   Following him into the elevator, he tilts his head thoughtfully, “Well...the written test I feel will be no problem.  But I don’t really have anyone I can spar against and not feel like I may hurt them unintentionally. Do you have time to assist?” Iida’s eyes light up, “I haven’t had time for a friendly spar in a while! What styles do you use?” “I’m a swordsman, mostly,” Kenshin waves Iida through the elevator doors as they slide open. The taller man (and were the world fair, Kenshin would not be at eye-level with Tensei’s chest) took the lead again, and soon they were in the room for Hero gear. “I also use a variety of hand-to-hand.” “My specialty,” Tensei grinned. “I’m a close-combat hero. It helps that my engines speed up my punches.” “Ah,” Kenshin’s eyes flit over Iida’s arms, observing that he indeed would be quick, even if he was a rather bulky man. “Well I’ll expect a good fight!” Tensei considers his suit while they ride up the elevator, “Did you bring anything to change into?” Kenshin flushes, “Well, I wasn’t really thinking ahead..” Tensei laughs, “No problem.  I’m sure I have something here that will fit you.” They emerge into a bullpen area with a number of sidekick desks, a few of which are occupied.  Tensei waves and smiles to them as they greet him, and Kenshin can feel curious eyes on him as they go through and over to another elevator on the other side. “Don’t get many guests?” Kenshin asks as the doors close. Smiling, Tensei pushes the button for the top floor before responding, “Oh, well, not many outside other pro heros.  They don’t recognize you, so you’re interesting.” Kenshin snorts, and then pauses for a second when the elevator dings and the doors open.  ‘Wow. ’  This is one of the best equipped gyms he has ever seen.  He follows Iida through the open part of the space, and into the locker rooms over to one side.   Stepping through yet another doorway, Iida wanders over to a set of shelves, looking over Kenshin consideringly and then pulling a folded shirt and shorts out, handing them over.  “These look like they are close to your size? If they don’t fit, just put these in the hamper and grab some that do.” “Ah...thank you!”  Kenshin flashes him a grin, which Iida returns before striding back past the row of lockers.  “You can claim one of the sidekick lockers for now - It’ll have enough room to hang your suit. I’ll be right back…”  He grins, “Need to peel out of my armor before we get started.” Kenshin nods and turns to the bank of indicated lockers and picks an empty one while Iida leaves the room.  He lays the proffered clothes on the bench and then starts removing and hanging up his suit. It has been a while since he could spar all-out with someone, but he is excited to spar with his new friend.  ‘ Hopefully we both remain uninjured .’  It doesn’t take him long to finish changing (the clothes mostly fit) and he wanders back into the gym area to await Tensei’s return.  He notices racks of various types of “dummy” weaponry, along with just about every type of free weight imaginable - some of which seem unrealistically--and perhaps optimistically-- large.  There appears to be some sort of tension system strung along the ceiling, but he isn’t sure what its for. Finally he steps over into the open area, and begins his warm up stretches. Perhaps he should have grabbed a slightly looser shirt, as this one rides up a bit when he fully extends his arms.  Too late now. He can hear someone approaching before he can see them, their steps echoing in the hallway to the locker room.  Tensei steps out with a smile, wearing a better fitting shirt that like his, also reads “Team Idaten” in bold letters. He looks a bit damp around the edges. “Sorry for the wait.  I didn’t want to smell myself while we were getting warmed up!” Kenshin smiles at him from the floor. “I am the one intruding on your time and space, my friend.  I do not mind the wait.” He gestures generally to the gym, “This is impressive, but why the top floor?” Tensei lowers himself to the floor and begins stretches while answering, “Well, it allows instant access outside if there is somewhere we need to get quickly.” He nods over at a distant door to the outside, “And this floor is specially reinforced.  It makes it easier to ensure the safety of those on the lower floors.”  “I would not have thought of that.  I suppose you do have a number of non-combat personnel here also.” Tensei gives him an amused look, “I wouldn’t have put it that way, but I guess we do?” He rubs the back of his head and then straightens his glasses before bending into another stretch.  “Only about a quarter of our staff are heros or side-kicks. The rest are all support.” Tensei can’t help but notice the line of skin exposed across Kenshin’s back and stomach when he leans over into a stretch.  He flushes slightly, “Ah, you could have grabbed another shirt.” Kenshin’s cheeks flush, “Oro! Well, I...didn’t realize it was quite this short before I got out here?” Tensei laughs, “Well, at least it’s stretchy.” Finishing up their warm-up, they both do a few laps around the perimeter of the gym before returning to the mat to spar.   “We’ll go slow to start with, so I can see where you might need the most work?” “Sounds good!” They exchange tentative blows.  Tensei testing his opponents speed and strength carefully before slowly changing patterns to get a sense of what he already knows. He starts to speed up a bit, putting a little more force behind the strikes. Kenshin flashes an excited grin and also speeds up, much more quickly and expertly than Iida expected.   It is only five short exchanges later that Tensei finds himself blinking in surprise, ass on the floor. “Oro!”  Kenshin extend a hand to him, looking down. “Are you alright?  I did not expect to catch you with that one.” With a laugh Tensei takes his hand, and is surprised again by the strength of the slight man who easily pulls him to his feet.    Tensei just stares at him for a moment. Kenshin shifts, “What?” Tensei bursts out with an amazed smile, “Are you sure you need my help?  Seriously, you are much stronger than I expected from your build! Is that part of your quirk?” Kenshin nervously laughs, “Ah, no.  Spar again?” His expression shifts into a more relaxed grin, “You really can go faster.  I will keep up.” Grinning, Tensei steps back to the center of the mat and gets into a ready stance. “Alright then, let’s do this!” 
Dagobah Municipal Beach Park, Musutafu, Japan.  November 21st, 2286

4:25pm (1625)
 Yagi Toshinori took as deep a breath as his lung would allow, and slowly exhaled, ignoring the ever present aches and enjoying the crisp salty air.  Well, at least the part of the air that didn’t still smell like trash. The sun was beginning to set, and young Midorya’s strength was beginning to flag.  His progress in dragging the large crumpled metal which may have once been a car across the beach had definitely slowed - perhaps it was time for a break. “Young Midoriya! Please come rest a moment and get some water.  Your mother will not forgive me if you collapse.” Young Midoriya does not seem to hear him. As Yagi gets closer to the boy, he hears the familiar muttering take on a petulant tone. “‘Get a Quirk,’ they said,” he moans. “‘It will make your life so much easier!’ they said. ‘You’re a worthy vessel,’ they said.” Midoriya glares at the trash he is pulling along, before kicking it lightly. “‘I am dragging trash across a beach,’ I say.” Yagi laughs, coughing up some blood and startling the young man out of his skin. “Talking to yourself is a sign of madness.” He chuckles. Midoriya blushes bright red, making him look like rhubarb with his green hair. He whips around to look at the hero. “Y-you heard that?” He stutters. “I mean, uh, you’re a sign of madness! Wait.” The boy collapses to the ground in embarrassment. “Not to worry, my boy, It is time for a rest!”  He hands Izuku the bottle of water and they both sit in silence for a while on a patch of cleared sand, watching the waves. “This is going to take me longer than we have, isn’t it, Yagi-san?  I mean…” the boy hesitates, scanning the beach which is still covered in trash from years of illegal dumping.  His face crumples momentarily in frustration, “I am trying my best, but how can I possibly get strong enough in time for testing?  It will take months just to clear this beach!” “Hmm, do you wish to give up my boy?” Toshinori asks his young companion. “NO!  I mean, No.  I just…” he sighs, “I am just tired.  Please forgive me. I will try harder!”  A look of determination crosses his freckled face as he clenches a fist in front of him, accentuating his words.  “I can do this!” He says surely. Yagi just nods, and watches as Midoriya picks the straps back up that connect him to the hunk of twisted metal, and with renewed energy, continues dragging it over to the pile of sorted refuse that the city is clearing (with a little donation from the #1 hero).  ‘Perhaps I should get the boy some help.  I can always ask for a sidekick, but wouldn’t someone his own age be better motivation for him?’   Yagi’s black eyes are even darker with his thoughts churning.  ‘ Who can I ask?’   It was at that moment that Toshinori’s personal phone pings with a message. Digging it out of his pocket curiously, he unlocks the screen, opening the Tea Posing😺 chat: Evergreen:  Greetings, would you two be interested in coming to dinner on Sunday?  Yagi-sama, I have found some foods I think you will like from your list!  The phone dings again with a new message. Principality: I would love to but I currently have other plans!  I thank you for the invitation. Perhaps it would be a good time for Yagi to meet your student. Evergreen:  Sure!  I will invite her and her mother over also. Yagi blinks and glancing at Midoriya who is now hauling a large box, wonders if this might solve his problem. Only one way to find out… Here - oh?: I would be happy to attend!  What time, and is it ok if I invite my student and his Mother also? Evergreen: The more the merrier!  Yagi tilts his head at his phone. Here - oh?:  Is that a yes? Evergreen: Yes! Sorry.  6pm?  Here - oh?: See you then my friend! Toshinori Yagi smiles to himself.  He has a friend. “Young Midoriya!” He says, “What are you and your mother doing this Sunday?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Austerium, Kenshin’s Apartment, Musutafu, Tokyo, Japan. Nov. 27th, 2286

5:59pm (1759)
 Midoriya-san is still flustered as they ride the elevator up to Kenshin’s apartment. “I had no idea,” She mumbled into her hands. Her son patted her on the back and Yagi coughed. “I knew he had a coach--oh, thank you so very much, Yagi-san!” “It’s no problem,” he laughs, “Young Midoriya is a great student. You should be proud!” Izuku turns red and hides behind his mother without success, since he is taller than her. She is waving a hand at him with an equally red face. Yagi could see where the boy got it from. The elevator dings, saying they’ve reached the correct floor, and the doors open to a wide, open hallway with marble tile. Yagi looks at his phone to confirm the floor before they all step out and begin towards number 2-7. He rings the doorbell, standing in front of the camera so Kenshin can see who it is from inside. “Hello!” Kenshin’s voice comes from the speaker in the doorbell. “I’ll be there in a moment Toshinori-san.” True enough, a few moments later, the door swings open to reveal Kenshin’s smiling face. Toshi is actually startled to realize that the man is the same height as Young Midoriya! He seems so much larger in memory. “Midoriya-san!” Kenshin greets their friend with some surprise.  He hadn’t realized that the barista from the tea room was the mother of Yagi’s student.  Kenshin can’t help but give Yagi a questioning look and a flash of a teasing grin. He knows Yagi likes her. A fidgeting boy with wild green curls peers around a flushed Yagi and smiles tentatively “We are very pleased to meet you, Himura-san. Yagi-san says you also have a protege?” He seems hopeful that she’s already there. Kenshin laughs, stepping aside. “I can see who you really came to meet, that I can! Come inside!” “Is that them?!” A girl’s voice calls from inside the house. There’s the sound of charging footsteps and Kenshin is nearly thrown forward onto them by the force of a leaping young woman. She glomps onto his back before peeking over his shoulder. She’s small, definitely younger than young Midoriya, with short, black hair, and large green eyes. She wears light-up sneakers in bright pink; but mostly black clothing. She smiles widely, revealing two dimples in her cheeks. “Hi!” She says brightly.  “H-Hi!” Izuku says. “I’m Myojin Amiko!” She slides down and walks around Kenshin and up to the young man, shaking his hand up and down vigorously. “You wanna be a hero, too?!” “Ah-” The young man seems bewildered, lost in the whirlwind that is Kenshin’s young apprentice. “I’m Midoriya Izuku!” He says finally, “And yeah, I’m working to be a hero!” Young Amiko, smiling wider than ever, shrieks loudly and drags Izuku inside; babbling about quirks and hero training in an excited tone. There is yelling from the kitchen, “Amiko! You were supposed to be stirring the food!” “Oro!”, suddenly Kenshin is across the room, leaving Yagi and Inko blinking at his departure. “Oh, thank goodness!  I was worried there would be another oven incident.”  Kenshin can be heard speaking through the doorway with whomever was yelling.  Yagi and Inko trail behind. The dark haired woman just gives him a look, and then smirks, “Do you usually leave your guests to cook?” she ribbs good-naturedly. He flushes, taking over the stove and waving her toward the others, “Yagi-san, Midoriya-san, this is Myojin-san.” Inko bows, and offers the mochi she brought with her to Myojin, who gestures to the counter.  “My daughter and I are also guests. She’s around here somewhere.” Izuku and Amiko in fact are out on the balcony by this point, animatedly discussing something that seems to involve lots of gestures and looking up at the skyline. Inko puts the mochi on the counter next to a number of other dishes. “I thought that it would be best to have a buffet type style dinner?  That way, you can pick out what you would like and as much of any one thing as you would like.  I wanted to make sure everyone had something they would enjoy!” Kenshin beams at his guests and lifts the pot of curry from the stove, adding it and the spoon for serving it to the available dishes.  “Please, help yourselves!” he adds, pointing out the plates and utensils. Toshinori smiles widely at Kenshin, “Thank you my friend.  Very thoughtful of you. Young Myojin is your student?” he asks, gathering up a plate and beginning to dish himself.  American food habits obviously didn’t wear off completely. His plate however still has very little food when he wanders toward the table. “Yes, she is currently in middle school, but I’ve been friends with the Myojin family for ...years!” He smiles briefly, glancing at Kimiko who flashes him a smile.
                           -----

‘Wow.  She talks more than I do!’  Izuku remains stunned at this turn of events.  Not only is the girl almost his own age, but she seems genuinely interested in many of the same things he obsesses over.  “Are you taking the exams this year?” Amiko shakes her head, her bobbed hair brushing her shoulders, “No, I’m still too young!  I’ll finish Middle School, continue to study up, and hopefully pass next year!” She accentuates her determination with a bright grin. “I’m getting much stronger with Himura-sensei’s help! Not just in my conditioning, but also with my other subjects. What does Yagi-san help you with?” “Strength training, mostly.” Izuku says. He smiles when a thought comes to him, “What about quirk training?  What type of hero do you want to be? I’m hoping to be the kind of hero that others look up to, like All Might!” She takes his never ending questions in stride, “All Might is great!  He’s one of my favorites, although I really like Crimson Riot and Ingenium also.” She hums, tilting her head to one side and lifting a finger to her chin “Although I think my very favorite is Ragdoll, I would love to be able to do something so creative and helpful with my quirk!” “What is your quirk?” Izuku asks, but their conversation is interrupted by Kenshin, who opens the door to the balcony and smiles, “You should both come get some food before it is gone!” Suddenly there is a loud knock at the front door, Kenshin glances over, unsure of who it could be. He isn’t expecting anyone else, as far as he knows.  Inko and Kimiko watch from the kitchen as Kenshin goes to answer the door. Pressing the camera button, he can’t see anyone. Cautiously, he opens the door. “Kenshin!” Kenshin jumps about two feet into the air and lands in a defensive stance, before looking down far enough to notice Nezu on his doorstep. “Oro, a Nezu!” “Indeed!” Nezu replies with a manic grin. Recovering, Kenshin gestures welcomingly, “Please come in!  I thought you were not going to be able to make it!” “That is why you should leave the thinking to me!”  The mouse-bear replies, heading into the kitchen. Suddenly there is muttering from the balcony door, barely distinct. “It’s Nezu! The Principle of UA! The…..Animal….with...quirk…analysis…..highly…tea....so amazing! I….” Amiko is peeking from time to time from above Izuku’s green curls as she jumps to see, “Who?  What did you say? What are you talking about??” He pulls her to the breakfast bar, which is laden with food, and they both try to peer over it into the kitchen without being noticed. “It is I!  Nezu! Am I a bear, a mouse? No one knows!” Nezu poses from on top of one of the counters.  “I have come to provide your results, Kenshin! You Passed!  Congratulations. Now. Food.” “Oro..ah, of course!  Please take whatever you like, we are eating buffet style.” Kenshin scratches the back of his neck with one hand, “But what do you mean I passed, Nezu-sama?” “Your Hero exam!” Nezu uses Kenshin as a stepping stone to hop from the counter to the breakfast bar, leaving a Hero license on top of his head.   Kenshin reaches up to collect it, “I passed?  But the results do not come out until next week!” “Unless you are me.” Nezu replies, filling his plate. “Congratulations my friend!” Yagi adds from his seat, it is a difficult exam!” Inko bursts into tears, “Oh, it is such wonderful news!” Amiko squeals and snatches the license out of Kenshin’s hands, “Wow!  You passed!” she bounces, glancing over at Izuku, “I changed my mind, my new favorite hero is Himura-san!” She looks down at the hero license and grins again, “And you did go with the name I expected!  That’s so cool Himura-sensei!!” “Hmm, that remains to be seen.” Kenshin replies quietly. “Is this your student, Yagi?" Nezu asks while considering Izuku, who is staring frozen at Nezu. Having noticed that he was noticed.   “Nezu-sama can I please have your autograph!  You are amazing! All those papers you did on the development of quirks and everything!  So fantastic!!” Midoria gushes, finally having found his voice again. Yagi smiles tentatively at them both “Yes, This is young Midoriya.  I am helping him prepare for the UA exam.” There was an undertone to his voice that Kenshin couldn’t quite place, but seemed almost a warning. Nezu’s eyes twinkled, “I see.” He turned his attention back to the fidgeting Midoriya, who had somehow come up with a notebook and pen and was gazing at him hopefully. “Since you have read my articles, what do you think would have been a better strategy for defeating Tsunami than the one the team used?  I have written an article on that disaster, but it has not been released yet.” Midoriya blinked once, appearing startled to be asked his opinion, and then dived into his response with a wide grin, “They should have utilized more than just water type heroes.  Gang Orca was available, true, but they could have asked for assistance from people like Cementoss as well, who have skills which could have prevented the disaster from getting out of hand for the surrounding areas.  Manual would have been good for preventing flooding also.” Tapping his lip with his pen, “Even better than all of that though, would have been a way to remove Tsunami from sources of water. Like Manual, he doesn’t seem to be able to create water himself, just control it, so he needs the ocean or water supply nearby to utilize his quirk fully. If you could find a way to cut him off from that - perhaps a forcefield type hero like Ms. Bubble, then he could have been apprehended...Oh!  Ms. Bubble and Midnight working together! That would have been great! Midnight could have directed her quirk to the inside of Ms. Bubble’s field - since you can get in, just not out, and then perhaps lured him into the bubbled area somehow - he was chasing after Portkey for a while - something about revenge for his brother…” Kenshin laughs as Midoriya realizes everyone is staring at the rapid outpouring of information. Yagi in surprise and approval, his mother with a resigned look. Amiko with amazement.   Nezu’s eyes twinkle merrily, a grin on his face as he looks across the counter at the flushing teen, “Excellent. An interesting mind you have, young Midoriya.  I would enjoy speaking with you again…” His tone promising future encounters. He plucked the notebook and pen from Midorya’s stunned hands, and signed a large “Nezu!” across the side of one of the pages. Yagi sighed subtly at Nezu’s tone, and Kenshin shot him a questioning look.  Obviously there was more going on here than he was aware of. 
Port of Tokyo, Dock 7, Tokyo, Japan. January 2nd, 2287

11:04pm (2304)
 A week or so into his underground hero career, Kenshin had gotten a tip on some Yakuza activity which seemed promising.  This had over the course of many more nights, led him to a warehouse for a hero support company, where it stored items ready to transport to Heroes outside of Japan.   After a long day of classes and meetings, he had managed to get himself into the roof of the aforementioned warehouse, concealing himself in the rafters.  It was at this moment that “ Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down... ” started to play, and he realized he’d forgotten to silence his phone.  He also realized he was going to kill Mic when he saw him next. Rickrolled... Quickly fumbling for his phone, he silenced it. And hoped that the sound of the HVAC system running next to him had masked the noise. No such luck. “You hear that?” Henchman trenchcoat said. “Hear what?” Lackey Mustache answered. Footsteps got closer, “Sounded like someone singing.” Henchman trenchcoat’s voice grumbled. Thankfully mustache backed Kenshin up, “I don’t hear anything.  You’re just paranoid. They’ll be here soon.” Kenshin let out a held breath as they wandered back toward the front of the warehouse, and allowed himself to relax momentarily against the rafter beneath him.  ‘Mental note - always silence phone. ’  Then the minion’s words sink in ‘they’ll be here soon’ .  Bloody Hell.  He isn’t prepared for anything to happen tonight, this was just supposed to be reconnaissance. He has to work in the morning! After a mental string of profanity to himself, he shoots off a quick text to Eraser and Tsukauchi, letting them know his location and that it appears the case he’s been tracking is pushing up the move of goods to tonight. He hits send as he hears the warehouse door start to open on the mechanical track, and a large truck rolls in, followed by a small black luxury car with dark windows.   Kenshin sidles a bit closer to the HVAC system, trying to block himself from view, and shoves his phone back into one of his many pockets while watching the interplay below.  A moment later he takes it back out, changing it to the record function just in case any of this is valuable later. The driver gets out of the sedan, and walking around, opens the rear passenger door of the vehicle.  A large man in a very expensive suit steps out, looking over the line of men who have now lined up as if expecting orders.  The driver and passenger from the truck have lined up with them. Kenshin can see him directing pairs of them off on various tasks, but he’s too far away to hear what is being said clearly.  Too late to move at this point. Damn. Another younger man in a bomber jacket runs up, opening a briefcase and showing the suited man whatever is inside.  Taking a vial of some blue liquid from the case he holds it up to the light - thankfully looking in another direction, and then with a nod, returns it to the case.  Bomber jacket runs over and places the briefcase in the boot of the sedan. Others begin to load up the truck with crates of hero support gear. A bored looking teen in a pointed face mask, almost like a muzzle, gets out of the back of the sedan, and suit rests one hand on his shoulder as he walks up.  Perhaps they are related somehow? ‘If only I could see suit mans’ face from here!’  Ending the video he shoves the phone back in the zipper pocket in his kimono top.  ‘ Wonderful things, zippers.’   And his new hero costume is pretty nice too.  Kenshin carefully begins making his way around the HVAC system to the beam on the other side. Silently, he grips the metal riveting with fingers and his specialized boots, clinging to the slick surface as he climbs around the large mechanical unit.  Swinging back up onto the beam on the other side, he crouches, and slinks closer to the conversation. He misses a step, nearly slipping when his phone buzzes against his chest, startling him. It’s likely a notification in response to his earlier texts.   “-was there any doubt?” A voice pulls him back to the deal going on in front of him. It seems Henchman Trenchcoat and his friend had a leader, who is now talking to the man in the suit.  “Oh, there was plenty.” Suit growled. “Your info might be good but I’ve heard some things about you. You’re lucky I’m giving you any of this.” “And you’re a gracious host!” New Boss? Assures him. “Rest assured, Trigger is exactly what you and your associates need.” Suit grumbles a bit, before patting the masked teen next to him on the shoulder. “Kai. Make sure the idiots pack that case properly.” The teen nods, once at the New Boss and again at Suit, before backing to a respectful distance and walking over to the truck. The two men get back to talking. “So this stuff works, right?” Suit says. “It would be a shame if you’d tried to hustle me, Gorou.” Newly named Gorou laughs, “Of course not! I’ve seen what your boy does to those guys. Nah, Trigger will work just fine for you. Take a sip or slap it into a syringe-you got yourself a monster with a hella powerful quirk you can aim at any Hero you please.” “Like All Might?” Suit asks. Kenshin blinks. He’d heard of All Might -who hadn’t? The world’s Number One Hero; the reason Japan had such a low crime rate. He was very powerful, and Kenshin hadn’t really taken the time to think that maybe some people wouldn’t like such a seemingly friendly man. “A-All Might?” Gorou’s voice cracks. “I guess, dude, if the person’s quirk is good enough. But that’s not really a thing anyone gets to try twice.” “Hmm.” Suit replies. “Get the gear you need, get out of my area of town. There’s a few Underground Heroes around who are pretty good - If you lead them to me or my men, I’ll have words with you.” “No problemo, man.” Gorou nods. He turns to his henchmen, still loading things into the van. “Get a move on, guys! We have places to be!” Then, he hears the police sirens. “You hear that?” The teen finally speaks. “Father?” “I hear it.” Suit growls. “Scatter, all of you! We got those damn heroes on us.” Kenshin knows he’s waited long enough. He lets go of the support beam he was sitting beside, and drops onto Henchman Trenchcoat below. The man grunts as Kenshin’s booted feet land on his face, falling to the ground unconscious. Kenshin steps off of him, and turns to see the raised guns of the alerted Yakuza. He rolls as they fire, gunshots ringing and echoing in the space, avoiding the first round aimed at him, and comes up close to Mustache.  He follows through on his upward motion by kicking him in the solar plexus, and then the hand, causing him to stagger back and drop his gun. Kenshin looks up in time to see Suit grab the back of the teen’s collar as he lunges toward Kenshin, shaking his head and directing him to the sedan.   Instinctively, Kenshin dodges to his left, narrowly avoiding the long knife that one of the henchman has pulled and is trying to stab him with.  With a metallic shing he quickly draws his sword and knocks the blade aside.  The man lunges forward again as Kenshin thrusts his weapon, causing henchman to get struck by the dull end of the sword in his neck rather than his chest.  Kenshin flinches subtly as the man chokes. The man staggers back, giving Kenshin time to shift his weight and spin, knocking him out with the flat of the blade.  Mustache crumples to the floor as Kenshin hears the truck thunder back to life behind him.   The sirens are getting closer.  Suit is getting into the sedan with the masked teenager.  Kenshin hesitates briefly before going after the truck, which is starting to pull away from where it was loaded.  He manages to sheath his sword and jump onto the back, clinging to the side tenaciously while the truck begins to speed up. He carefully peeks into the opening and then shifts quickly back away from the loading door as gunfire chases him. “He’s on the back, get him!” he hears ordered from inside. Not feeling like getting shot, Kenshin decides to go with the better part of valor and some old tech.  Crouching on the bumper and still clinging with one hand to the careening vehicle, he carefully digs into his uniform for a small silver device.  He places it momentarily in his teeth to free up his hand. Grabbing the end of the gun which is now sticking out of the back of the truck at him, he pulls hard and then lets go, causing the man to lose his balance and tumble out as the truck sways again, fleeing down the road away from the police sirens. Kenshin quickly pulls the tracking device from his teeth before he breaks it, and sticks it to the metal of the wheel well.  Looking up, he notices another man is attempting to inch over behind him on the bumper. There is a bump in the road and the truck swerves, causing the minion to flail to keep his balance and cling to the handle on the door.  Kenshin shifts his weight entirely to one foot and kicks side of the man’s knee, causing him to momentarily dangle and scream in pain before tumbling onto the pavement behind the speeding vehicle.  Kenshin only has a moment before the truck violently swerves again to avoid an oncoming police car, and careens on one side around a corner.  He clings desperately, then jumps free, rolling to a stop as the truck flips onto its side and shrieks out of control into the side of a building.  It comes to a complete stop, steam, smoke and fuel spilling from it as the police catch up and surround them. Kenshin looks up as Eraser lands gracefully beside him, recoiling his capture weapon and reaching out a hand to help him up.   “Thank you my friend.” Kenshin takes the offered hand, standing and stretching painfully. “They may still have guns, watch out for that.” “I can see that.” Eraserhead replies, gesturing to Kenshin’s bleeding arm and torn sleeve. “Aw, dammit!” Kenshin replies, “This is my new suit!”  He sticks a finger through the hole in his blue sleeve, wondering if he should have taken up the support offer of more armor.  With a sigh he wades back into the crowd around the truck, Eraser following. With their help, the police quickly corral the remaining henchmen.   Eraser glances at Kenshin, “Do you want to do statements tonight or should I?” With a long exhale, Kenshin flashes him a grin, “I’ll do it.  Tsukauchi already knows most of what’s been going on anyway, and I know you have plans tonight.” Aizawa just clasps him briefly on the shoulder and then with a twist of his capture weapon is up on the rooftops, headed away.    Hmm, he forgot to tell him about the Rickrolling.            ----

Almost an hour later, Kenshin has finished his statement, giving Eraserhead appropriate credit, and has a feeling the other officer (not the one taking the statement, but the one standing around in the background) wants to talk to him also.  ‘ So cute!  I wonder if he is soft.’   His attention is returned to the police sergeant midway through a sentence.  “...so you will get that over to us?” “I apologize.  What am I doing?” The man just gives him a bland look, “The video from your phone.  You will send it in?” “Oh, yes, I will do that, that I will.”  At least he will as soon as he can get someone to show him how to do that. The sergeant shakes his head and turns away. Kenshin is pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear the “damn heroes” said under his breath. Soon after the first officer has turned away, the next officer has stepped up into the light, and Kenshin has to keep reminding himself it's rude to stare, and no touching.  Instead, “Can I help you, Officer?” he asks politely.   
‘Oh ancestors have mercy.  He even has whiskers.’
 With a short bow the officer introduces himself, “I am Officer Tamakawa Sansa.” He straightens, almost nervously, “I couldn’t help but overhear your hero name.” He pauses and Kenshin internally squeals over the actual cat teeth that peek out as he speaks.  “I am somewhat a student of history, I just wanted to ask, are you related to the historical figure that you are using as the basis for your hero persona?” “Oro.” Kenshin is taken aback. “I am...Yes, related you could say I am.”  He flashes a grin. “Do you mind if I ask...Can you see like a cat also?” Tamakawa also looks momentarily taken aback, and then laughs.   “I suppose that was somewhat rude of me, I apologize. Yes I can.” Kenshin thinks they will get along well. 
The Austerium, Kenshin’s Apartment, Musutafu, Tokyo, Japan. February. 2nd, 2287

7:59pm (1959)
 Exactly a month later, and exhausted after a late night which blended into a long day, Kenshin finally makes it home and heads into his kitchen to scrounge for some food.  He opens the fridge, light spilling into the room and nearly blinding him, but also revealing the leftovers he’d been looking forward to since he started patrol that morning. He’d passed in his resignation to the school just before patrol, having realized that it would be too much to balance a normal teaching job with regular hero work. It was actually rather sad; he’d enjoyed working there, in the short time he’d actually done so, and it was sobering to realize his passion for teaching would once again take a back seat to his need to save people. He sighed, pulling himself and his coveted leftovers out of the fridge, before reaching to the side of it and turning on the lights. Kenshin turns, placing his food on the counter, before looking up to turn on the microwave and coming face-to-face with a grinning, white, rodent. “Oro!” He shouted, jumping back. “A Nezu!” “A me!” Nezu agrees. “You need better locks!” “They are robotic, that they are,” Kenshin said slowly. “And engrained in the door.” The grin simply becomes wider. “I am here for a reason!” Nezu continues, “And it is not your locks. I see you have left your previous teaching position?” Kenshin does not bother to question how the Bear-Rat-Man knew that. He nods. “Excellent! Come work for me!” “Oro, I quit just this morning!” “Even better,” Nezu said exuberantly, “You will still be in the correct habits!” “Nezu-sama, what would I even do under your employ?” Kenshin sighs. “I have just barely become a hero, and you already have qualified Language teachers.” “Ah!” Nezu said, lifting a finger, “But I do not have a History teacher! And who better to teach than an immortal, integral to the forming of out current country!”  Kenshin, very tired, also does not bother to wonder how his friend knows that.  “I will think about it.” He sighed. Nezu grin becomes wider, and he lifts a steaming teacup to his lips. “I do not even have those in my apartment, that I do not!”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Dagobah Municipal Beach Park, Musutafu, Japan.  February 25th, 2287

11:25am (1125)
 
Yagi smiles absently at Izuku when the boy finishes hauling his latest collection of trash to the edge of the beach.  It’s almost completely cleared, to the point that it will likely be spotless before the end of the day. His successor is getting stronger, but perhaps is still not ready yet.  ‘

Such a heavy burden to lay on a child.’

He glances at his phone, noting the time before calling out to him, “My boy, a few laps and then get some water!”  Izuku looks up from his trudge down the beach, and yells back, “Yes Sensei!”
 
He sighs, his mind going back to the conversation with Nedzu a few days prior.

‘How can I possibly convince Himura to also teach at UA?’

Nedzu seemed determined that with Yagi’s assistance, Kenshin would also join the staff.  Yagi wasn’t sure how he would be any more convincing than Nedzu was. Looking down at his emaciated frame he clenches a fist.

‘I will do what I can to be useful, while I still can.’

But how much longer would that be, realistically?
 
He is broken out of his morose thoughts when a flash of pink streaks past him and tackles Midoriya, who collapses with an “Oof!” into the sand. 
 
“Midoriya-kun!  Himura-sensei brought me to help!!”
 
“I can see that.” The boy wheezes, out of breath and collapsed from the weight of the girl who has just run into him, “Can I get up now?”
 
Amiko laughs and hops up, offering Izuku her hand. He takes it and stands, brushing himself off while they start talking.
 
Yagi notices Kenshin come up beside him. “They seem to get along well.”
 
Yagi laughs and then coughs.  He can feel Kenshin’s concerned eyes on him as Yagi pulls his hand away from his mouth, noticing the specks of blood on his pale skin. “You have the consumption?” Kenshin asks, his voice neutral, but his expression sad.
 
“The what?” Yagi asks, unsure how to react to his friend’s expression or question.
 
Kenshin gestures to his hand, “The..consumption.” he looks momentarily frustrated at not knowing what to call it, “The coughing, with the blood?  Are you sick?” He asked worriedly.
 
“Oh! No my friend, this is just a result of my injuries.  I am as well as I will be, for the most part. I only have one lung you see, and things didn’t quite heal completely…” He trails off and shrugs, “Please do not worry for me. I am as well as I can be.”  Shifting uncomfortably, he meets Kenshin’s concerned gaze only for a moment before calling out to Midoriya, “My boy, perhaps you and Amiko should do a few laps and then spar?”
 
“Sounds good Sensei!” Izuku yells and turns to Amiko who takes off before him and is followed by a “Hey!” while Izuku tries to catch up.
 
Kenshin didn’t play along with the change of subject, “Is Doctor Hikimoto aware of the coughing blood part?  I know he is working - “ Kenshin flushes and appears to almost panic, “ - very...hard. Yes, very hard on helping you.  You should make sure he knows everything he needs to ..help you.” he finishes lamely.
 
Yagi just raises an eyebrow and pats his friend’s shoulder, “I will be well enough.  Can you tell me what you think of young Midoriya’s progress? I am preparing him for the test this week at UA, but I am still not sure if he is ready.”
 
They both shift attention to Izuku and Amiko, who are approaching at full tilt from further down the beach. Kenshin winces as Amiko trips, but rather than finishing the race, Midoriya skids to a halt to help her up.  
 
“Yagi-san, that boy is already a hero.” Kenshin smiled back at him.

Yagi beams, “I am proud of him.  He tries to do his best, and he doesn’t leave his team behind.”
 
“Let’s make sure they’re both ready then - as much as we can make them.” Kenshin stands and offers a hand.
 
Yagi smiles and allows himself to be pulled to his feet, noting once again how much stronger Kenshin is than he appears, and is still startled at short he is once he is back on his feet.  His presence is so much larger than his height. “Speaking of that, ah... Nedzu wanted me to ask about...teaching?” Toshinori winced at his inability to put together a sentence.  
 
“Ah...you mean did Nezu ask if I would teach at U.A.?”
 
Toshinori exhales in relief, “Yes.  He asked if I would try to talk you into it.  But I still think you should decide what would be best for you.  I admit, it would be nice to have my friend working with me though.” He breaks off suddenly, “Midoriya! Stop holding back - she is obviously trained well, it does neither of you good to not do your best.”
 
Amiko and a bright red Izuku momentarily pause their fight, “Yes Sensei, Sorry Sensei.” Izuku breathes with embarrassment while Amiko giggles.  She then shifts into a quick sweep and puts him on his ass in the sand. “Hey!” 
 
Amiko continues laughing until Izuku manages to sweep her in return.
 
“No quirks, Amiko!” Kenshin calls as he notices something start to coalesce near Amiko’s shoulder.  It dissipates, but she doesn't answer, her focus still on meeting the blows of her opponent and returning to her feet.
 
Yagi hums, “What is her quirk anyway?” Kenshin takes a breath to answer just as a haze begins to gather again behind Izuku.
 
“Amiko!  If I need to come spar you myself to remind you why quirks aren’t always the answer, I will!”
 
The haze dissipates and she shoots him a sheepish look.
 
“Sorry. What was Izuku’s quirk? I could let them spar with quirks if you think that would be better.”
 
“Oh!  No, it’s better if they spar without for now!”  Yagi answers very quickly, a flash of guilt crossing his face.  He turns to the students, as out of his sight, Kenshin frowns. “Izuku, how about you both work on clearing that last section, you are almost done!” Toshinori calls.
 
Izuku waves his assent as they both catch their breath, and then jog off toward the last small section of refuse on the beach.
 
Kenshin watched him curiously, but doesn’t push, “As you say, my friend.  I have been considering teaching with U.A. since Nedzu’s offer. I’ve been invited to watch the practical exam tomorrow.  Will you be attending?”
 
Toshi pales suddenly, “The Exam is tomorrow??”
 
Startled, Kenshin blinks at his friend, “Yes.  You told me last month that it was on the 26th, correct? I think that was also the date on the note from Nedzu.”
 
Letting out a long hiss of stress and frustration, and possibly a little panic, Toshi stares out at the kids who seem to be having a competition on who can clear their bit of the sand fastest. “Ehhhh, I need to..ah.  Let’s have lunch together, yes? Then I can congratulate Midoriya properly for his hard work this year.”
 
“...Of course my friend.  There is a place just up the street that we can go to.  I need to get Amiko home in a couple hours though, so we don’t have a lot of time if you wish to go together.”
 
Toshinori turns and smiles, although it still looks a bit forced, “Lets call them in then.  I’m sure they’ll feel better with a bit to eat, and then I can talk to Izuku afterward about the schedule for tomorrow.”
 
U.A. High School, Musutafu, Japan.  February 26th, 2287

Exam Centers Observation Area

8:05am (0805)
 
The exam area seemed very plain, especially in comparison to the rest of the highly tech-friendly school of UA. Kenshin walked through the halls, following the confusing directions Nedzu had sent to the group chat, and feeling very lost. Perhaps it would be smarter to text and ask, but at this point his pride was on the line.
 
“Turn..” Kenshin squints angrily at his phone. “..I think left. Or right. Which line am I on?”
 
The screen, unhelpfully, does not reply.
 
Kenshin glares at the old phone for a few more moments, hoping it will make more sense the longer he stares at it. When it, inevitably, continues being the most complicated way to describe a building’s layout, Kenshin sighed, turning the phone off and shoving it into his pocket. Without using his phone to guide him however, he soon finds a bright, yellow arrow painted on the wall a few hallways down. On it mockingly reads “Examination Orientation Room.”
 
Maybe he should have called. Two teenagers run down the hall past him and around the corner in the indicated direction, calling something about being late.  Kenshin winces.
 
When he does make it to the small viewing room, however, it does not seem that he has missed much. A familiar yellow sleeping bag rests in the corner, facing away from the viewing screens. Nemuri and another teacher, who Kenshin believes is called ‘Snipe’, turn to look as he enters.
 
“Himura-kun,” She exclaims, drawing the attention of the yellow sleeping bag. “What are you doing here?” Kenshin accepts her excited hug with a chuckle.
 
“I was invited,” He smiles. “Has it started?”
 
“Not yet,” Nemuri says. A grunt comes from the caterpillar, confirming her statement. She continues, “Hizashi is telling the kids their instructions, and we’re calibrating the drones for each student’s exam card so we get individual footage. It’ll be a bit.”
 
“I’m glad. I wouldn’t want to be late.” Kenshin turns to Aizawa, who has reluctantly sat up and is now squinting at him in a way that conveys his desire for murder. “How are you, Aizawa-san?”
 
“Fine.” He flops back over. “Shut up.”
 
Kenshin just chuckles and heads over to the coffee pot, which he shortly realizes is cold and possibly days old.  Dumping the coffee, he starts a new pot, and then gets started brewing a new pot for tea. The speakers crackle on, a bit tinny in tone despite the advanced technology, “Good Morning Listeners!” Mic’s voice resonates in the small room, “We are nearly ready to start our mock battle simulation.  I hope all of you are ready to do your best!!” The monitors along the walls light up, each highlighting a different section of the cityscapes as an Electronic Mic takes out virtual robots and explains the test process.
 
The pot of hot water beeps a few minutes later, and Kenshin adds the tea to steep, just as Nedzu enters the room heading straight for it.

‘How does he

do

that??’

He greets Kenshin with a warm smile, pouring himself some tea, “Good Morning, Himura-san.  Thank you for the tea!” Kenshin nods warmly in reply, pulling out some cups for additional drinks.
 
Aizawa reluctantly sits up at the sound of Nedzu’s voice, still encased in his yellow shell. Kenshin glances up at the monitors momentarily as students file out of the orientation room and onto busses for quick transport to the assigned exam locations. Cementoss and Power Loader, whom Kenshin vaguely remembers from one of Mic’s explanations of the pictures on his phone,  enter in the background accompanied by the sound of Present Mic, and go to their seats in the observation area.
 
“I wondered if you would decide to come,” Nedzu continues, “Have you made a decision in regards to my offer?” 
 
Kenshin smiles back at his friend, “Thank you for the invitation, Nedzu-sama.  I haven’t made my decision yet, but I will get back with you this week. I just want to be sure I am making the right decision.”  Nedzu smiles, his black eyes twinkling as if he knows everything

(doesn’t he though?).

He nods, and sips his steaming tea before heading to his seat and the monitor controls. 
 
Noting Aizawa’s semi-comatose state as Nedzu walks away, Kenshin pours two large cups of coffee and heads over to offer one to his friend.  Aizawa’s tired eyes follow his movement, and he grumbles something appreciative and slowly peels himself free from the sleeping bag to accept the coffee.  Nemuri wanders over and steals Kenshin’s second cup with a quick grin. He just smirks at her and goes to get himself another one. More teachers and other staff enter the room and people begin to both mingle and head to their seats. 
 
Heading back over to his friends, he glances at the clock hanging on the wall.  8:33am. Almost time for the practical to start. “Are all the written results already in?”  he asks Nemuri as he steps up beside her, “Or do they take the written exam after the practical exam?” Nedzu stands on his chair and starts tossing small black electronic pads to each of the teachers in the room, as well as a few other individuals wearing the badge of the hero commission.  
 
Nemuri catches her odd tablet as well as the one for Aizawa after quickly handing her coffee cup to Kenshin. It reminds him of an old auction flag. “All of the regular applicants have taken the written test already, since we don’t know who will end up too injured to continue.” Nemuri replies, handing the underground hero his electronic flag and then re-claiming her coffee. “The recommendation students wont take their version of the written test until later this week.”  
 
“What are those for?” Kenshin asks.
 
“Oh, these are pretty cool, actually,” Nemuri shows her circular tablet off, tapping the face which cycles through numbers as she taps.  “They allow us to vote for rescue points, depending on the rescue. Nedzu sends us the current number of the student who is being voted on, and we can watch the replay of the rescue on the indicated screen, and then we vote.”
 
Their attention is diverted by Mic calling over one of the speakers, “All buses reporting in, are we ready?”  Nedzu leans down and murmurs something in his radio. Mic nods and turns to climb the tower where his next portion will be broadcast to the students in each battle center.
 
“Does he do this every year?”
 
Nemuri smirks, “He likes the limelight, our Mic.”  
 
Aizawa grunts, peeling out of the sleeping bag and taking a long drink of his coffee.  “He lost the draw.” his face flickers in a rare smirk of emotion, before going back to his normal tired, slightly grumpy appearance. 
 
Soon all of the students are in place, and the lights begin to dim. Nemuri and Aizawa go to take their seats.  Nedzu, standing on his chair, waves Kenshin over into one of the empty seats beside him.  
 
He is about to sit when the door slams open and a large muscled figure squeezes in, his bright yellow hair and almost American features making him instantly recognizable anywhere in Japan. “Ah!  All Might! Over here please,” Nedzu calls as the man makes his way to the front, taking the other empty seat beside the Principle. Kenshin is momentarily startled when the man graces him with a bright grin, “Himura-san! Glad to see you here!” 
 
Mic calls out loudly, “What are you waiting for, in real life there is no countdown!”, followed by general chaos as the prospective students charge in.  
 
Kenshin blinks but can’t help but smile back.  Does he know this man? Something about him is familiar...perhaps they have run into each other on a work assignment?  Wracking his brain, Kenshin is about to ask when the monitor closest to them shifts its view and he actually recognizes one of the students. “Oh, It’s Midoriya!”  He says instead, and both he and All Might watch with interest as the green haired boy runs from one spot to the next, always seeming to get there too late. A tall young man that reminds Kenshin somewhat of a robot mixed with a samurai jets in front of him and smashes into one of the two point machines, stealing the points.  “Ah, another Iida!” Nedzu cries out. And Kenshin suddenly recognizes the boy as Tenya’s brother. Midoriya just looks even more determined, and runs in a different direction.
 
“This is...nothing like real hero work.” Kenshin mutters, and startles when Nedzu’s voice speaks directly into his ear, the rat-bear man somehow now perched on his shoulder, “That is why we also have rescue points!” he exclaims, “It helps to even it out a bit.”  
 
Kenshin tries to calm his now-racing heart, and replies, “What about those whose quirks are not strength based - or whom only have quirks that work on people or organics and not machines?” Nedzu just pats his head for a moment as if placating a favored pet, and then hops back into his seat without answering.  
 
All Might clenches one fist, a look of concentration on his face, completely focused on the monitors. 
 
Aizawa chimes in from the row behind them, now somewhat more caffeinated, “This exam does at least weed out the very weak, but he is right, you know. We should revise the test or find a way to measure more than brute strength. Take him for instance.” He points out a student with a shock of purple hair that runs out shouting something at one of the other students, gesturing to an injured participant who is quickly losing against two opponents.  The metal skinned kid just waves him off. The purple haired boy tilts his head and seems to say something goading, to which the other student growls something back before their face goes slack. “He appears to have some sort of control quirk, but I’ve only seen him use it on other participants, not the robots.”  
 
Kenshin and Nedzu watch with interest as the slack faced participant smoothly attacks and destroys the two single pointers, the counter above his head going up by two before his expression returns and he looks around with some confusion.  The purple haired boy had simultaneously pulled the collapsed injured student out of the way. Nedzu just hums and makes a note on his screen, and one of the monitors flashes to a replay of the event. Glancing over, Kenshin notices All Might tap his vote in, giving the purple haired young man 5 additional points.  Cementos gives him 2. 
 
Suddenly All Might flinches obviously, and lets out a loud exhale.  Kenshin glanced over at the screen closest to the hero, noticing that Midoriya is still running around in a panic, responding only defensively. “What is holding him back?” Kenshin wonders aloud. “He has trained extensively; surely he would have gotten at least one point by now.”
 
“Ah-” All Might coughs. “I’m sure he will be fine.” Kenshin hums, worried that the boy won’t be. He saw first hand the amount of work that Midoriya had put into preparing. According to the original photo Yagi had shown him, he’d bulked up immensely, as well. Nevermind that Kenshin didn’t know his quirk; even if the boy was

quirkless

, which was uncommon these days, he should have had points simply by virtue of his intelligence.
 
Suddenly, the boy’s eyes widen, and he rushes forward rolling under a wide swing and pulling a fellow examinee out of the way of a three-pointer. As they slow, just behind the robot, it turns out that the boy he’d rescued was another kid who’d stolen a point from him earlier. This one shot lasers out of his stomach. Midoriya yells something at the dazed kid, who seems nauseous and dizzy. When he gets no reply, the green-haired boy looks up to see that the three pointer has noticed them once again. 
 
He looks around in a panic, before picking up a piece of metal from another robot, sharp, and almost the size of his arm in length. Thinking quickly, he rushes forward, jabing the metal piece into the treads, stopping the robot in its tracks. With the momentum gained, he pulls himself onto the robot and over its back panel. As it attempts to grab him, he pulls out the panel, revealing the circuit board. He punches through it, yelps and shakes his hand as it shocks him, and leaps off the robot before it falls over, luckily away from both him and the still dazed blonde at his feet.
 
And then, typically, at least for Midoriya, tears start running down his face. He shakes out his slightly burned hand, sobbing around his smile. Kenshin laughs in relief, and a bit of humor. Prince of Nonsense, indeed, sobbing when he’s grinning like that.  
 
His attention is soon torn away, watching the progress of one young woman as she rushes up and taps a three pointer, barely dodging out of the way of one of its attacks.  The robot begins to overbalance and float, which draws his attention to the other robots that are also floating in the air. She slides into an ally, peeking out, and as she touches her fingertips together all three of the floating robots crash to the ground.  The amazing effect is only slightly ruined by her then grabbing her own knees and puking. 
 
Two other students dodge out of the way of the robot shrapnel. One of them is the younger Iida that Kenshin had noticed earlier.

‘I’ll have to let Tensei know I saw his brother’s exam!’

Kenshin tries to remember the kids name as he continues running up the street past the ally, and Kenshin smiles as the puke girl gathers herself back up and staggers out into the fray. 
 
Kenshin continues watching various students until the two minute warning, and then Nedzu turns to him with a manic grin, “Would you like to do the honors?” 
 
Kenshin blinks, his attention drawn to the large red button that Nedzu is indicating.  Shrugging, he reaches out and pushes it with curiosity. 
 
It is only a short while later all the exam areas begin to shake, and those students in view of his camera stagger a bit and look around.  Nedzu begins bouncing excitedly in his seat, and Kenshin soon understands his interest, as well as what the button must have been for, as the Zero Pointer begins to stalk into view.  Some students run for cover, others go in search of easier prey, and a few just stand and stare in awe and alarm. 
 
The Zero pointer swings at something that the camera can’t see from this angle, and a large chunk of concrete breaks free of one of the buildings crashing down on top of two of the students. The girl from earlier runs up, touching the boulder of concrete and seeming to strain against the weight to get it to float.  She sinks to one knee as the younger Iida helps to pull one of the students free from under the collapsed wall, and takes off carrying the boy to safety. Kenshin holds his breath, waiting for someone else to come help her get the second boy free when she passes out and the concrete crashes down, trapping both her and the boy beneath it.  
 
Kenshin half stands from his seat, Nemuri pulling him back down, as the giant robot makes its way into the intersection. “What about the students?  The robot will crush them if it steps on that rubble, and that’s the way it’s going!” All Might makes a semi-strangled sound and Kenshin looks over at his monitor in time to see Midoriya waving and jumping to get the robot’s attention.

‘Didn’t he hear the rules??’

Kenshin belatedly realizes what Izuku is doing when the robot turns and starts going toward him and away from the trapped students.  Izuku sees his success and goes white as a sheet, but then seems to gather his courage and runs directly at the monstrous robot!
 
“What is this?” Nedzu says faintly as Midoriya begins to glow from within.  The boy jumps and executes a perfect punch and roundhouse combination, somehow driving himself up into the air and the cameras are blown back by a wave of dust and small stones.  When the scene clears, the robot crashes to the ground, causing a minor crater with the force of its fall. Kenshin catches sight of Izuku falling at the same time as All-Might stands in alarm.  
 
As the boy falls, it’s clear the massive power he’d used to destroy the zero-pointer had also destroyed his

limbs.

He’d begun to free-fall, arm and legs flailing like noodles above him. Tears fall from his eyes, lip bitten bloody and he grits his teeth as he races to the ground.
 
“Can we do anything?” Kenshin asks, hoping against hope that Midoriya would be saved. However, it turns out there is no need. Right before Midoriya hits the ground, the young woman with brown hair smacks him harshly across the face, making him float away from her. She herself is floating on the rock that had been trapping her. She puts her fingers together, says something, and a pink light shines from her hands. Both she and Midoriya fall to the ground, and a few moments later the poor girl is puking her guts out once again.
 
Midoriya, that

insane boy

, is fine, other than his limbs. In fact, he began dragging himself forward with his remaining arm. “That idiot,” Aizawa mutters. “He can’t fight anything like that.”
 
“It’s likely out of desperation,” Midnight sighs. “He has a low number of villain points. Five or six, it looks like from here. He probably thinks that he won’t pass.”
 
“After that?” Kenshin says, “He better.”
 
The test is called to an end by Mic, and the boy cries in earnest, allowing his face to drop to the ground. Kenshin turns from the screen as he’s healed by Recovery Girl before being carted off on a stretcher.  Kenshin is somewhat relieved, and turns to discuss the exam with his friends when the lights come back up. He catches sight of All Might slipping out of the room. 
 
Hmm.
 
Kenshin gets up to follow the elusive pro, and manages to catch up to him down the hallway. The man glances worriedly at him, “That boy.  I wish we had more time to train. Thank you for coming with me my friend. He will be glad to see you as well.”
 
Kenshin stops suddenly, All Might stepping further down the hall before noticing, and turning back to look at him.
 
“YAGI??!!”  Kenshin exclaims, suddenly putting the pieces together.
 
“

Shhhh!!

Not so loud!” His friend quickly shushes him, pulling him along by one arm.  He coughs severely for a moment, shifting back into his more recognizable form with a puff of smoke and a regretful glance at Kenshin. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.  I thought you already knew, after a while. Let’s get to the infirmary, they will no doubt bring him there with the severity of his injuries.”
 
Kenshin is about to start questioning him about his training methods if this is what results when they turn the corner and Kenshin is beaten to the punch.
 
“All Might!!”  Recovery Girl, all three feet of her, swats a regretful looking Yagi with her odd cane as Midoriya waves from the bed in the office behind her.  “How

DARE

you subject this young man to such an exam, when he has no control over his quirk!  I assume this is your doing??! I thought you were waiting for the school year!” She swats him again as he winces, looking sideward at Kenshin, “Ah - lets talk about that later, we have guests!”  
 
“Guests aren’t allowed back here!”
 
“Ah, well, I am going to be teaching here next year, so I’m not really a guest.” Kenshin offers up, suddenly making a decision. 
 
Yagi looks at him gratefully.
 
She just humpfs in exasperation, “Just wait until Doctor Hikimoto hears about this!”  Allmight winces again.
 
They trail into the room after her, where Midoriya once again bursts into tears, “I am so sorry All Might!  I’ve let you down after all of your hard work and help!”
 
“There, there my boy!  You musn't give up now. You did your best!  I am sure it will work out.”
 
“Just wait for the results to come out before you count this a loss.  You never know how things might turn out. Regardless, I am sure you will make a fine hero with enough training..” Kenshin flashes a harsh look at Yagi, who flinches, “and time.  After all, you can always take the hero exam without going to a hero course. I did after all. There is more than one route to being a hero.” Kenshin smiles at his proteges’ friend quietly.
 
“I should have trained harder, I will keep working, and I won’t let you down again!” Midorya cries, tears still streaming down his face, but he sniffles, and starts to pull himself back together.   
 
Recovery girl hands him a tissue. “Very well, you should be able to stand now.  Up you go my lad. You’ll be sore for a few days, so take it easy while you finish healing, alright?”  She smiles warmly up at the short boy, and then turns to shew Kenshin and All Might out the door. “Go back to the observation hall, you’re not supposed to be back here!”  She smiles to take the bite out of her words, and closes the door, blocking their view.

Kenshin and Yagi turn back down the hallway, slowly walking back the way they came. “Yagi, why didn’t you tell me about his quirk?  How can he succeed if he breaks himself every time he uses it?”
 
Yagi exhales a long sigh, and pulls Kenshin aside into an empty classroom, closing the door. Kenshin watches him questioningly as he turns back around.  “I gave him my quirk.”
 
“You gave him your quirk.” He repeats.  
 
Yagi nods.  
 
“You mean - he inherited his quirk from you?” The relationship between Midoriya’s mother and Yagi quickly revises itself in his head. “You’re his father?”
 
Yagi chokes on a cough and sprays blood as he covers his mouth.  “Not like that!”
 
“How then?”  Kenshin asks with some concern, pulling a handkerchief out to provide to his friend, who takes it with some embarrassment.
 
“I really can’t go into it.  But he didn’t get the quirk until yesterday.”
 
“Yesterday?!  No wonder he broke himself!!”  Kenshin resists the urge to hit his already broken friend across the back of the head. “Why didn’t you start training the quirk sooner?  He has no control! I wouldn’t give a blade to a student who had never held one and tell them to go attack!”
 
Exhaling with exhaustion and worry, Yagi sinks into one of the desk chairs. “I had to hold on to the quirk as long as possible.  Now that he has it, I will continue to get weaker, until I am no longer…” he clenches one fist, looking down at the floor, “until I am no longer All Might.  I will not be a hero for more than a year or two longer.”
 
“I don’t understand.”  Kenshin frowns, sinking down in front of his friend, “You are All Might.  Even now. You’ll always be a hero even if you retire. You do understand that, right?”
 
Allmight just smiles at him, “I am glad you think so.  I can’t explain it now.”
 
Kenshin nods slowly, noting the pain in his friends face. 
 
“Walk to the station with me?” Kenshin offers him a hand, and taking it, Yagi stands.  “Very well. Perhaps it is like swordwork to some degree. I’ll keep working with him too if you like.  I’m sure Amiko would also be willing to help. Perhaps we can get him some control before he ends up killing himself.”
 
Yagi just laughs, and they leave the room.
 
Unknown Location, Japan. February 26th, 2287

11:34 (2334)
 
Todoroki Touya had been on the fast track to heroism, once upon a time. His quirk, while destructive, was perfectly controllable when his father wasn’t pushing his body beyond healthy limits. With death, in some ways, he was free. Or, well, as free as a dead man could be. 
 
He went by Dabi now. After all, Touya had been dead for almost eight years. He’d run off, face, arms and chest burned nearly beyond recognition, and never regretted it. He’d starved, until he let himself steal, and then he went cold in the slowly encroaching winter until he...liberated his coat from a man who’d found a vacation in the light of blue flame. What was a murder in the face of your own death?
 Of course, Touya had cried and vomited, never slept well again. Dabi slept like a baby, and never blinked twice. Perhaps, even as he shook himself from the throws of the same nightmare, Touya wished that Dabi was more than a name he made up on the spot; more than the scars on his face. But then he had to make some quick cash, and again, what was their life in the face of his. 
One day, he knows, he’ll go back. Maybe. One day, Endeavor will meet his end by blue fire. His siblings will be free, and his mother will be, too. He’d go to prison, of course, but he’d die behind bars before Fuyumi took another hit, before Natsuo had to, or before Shouto was forced to become their father.

One day, Endeavour will die, and Touya won’t shed a single tear. Perhaps, he’ll even smile.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

UA High School,

Monday, April 4th, 2287
 Nedzu walked slowly on his way to the staff-room. It was a good day, as far as he was concerned. It was clear outside and it wasn’t humid; he hated it when his fur fluffed up. It was also the first day of classes; exciting! Students were always fun to mess with, and so were the teachers. Cleverly, he’d arrived early enough to catch them by surprise, but late enough they probably wouldn’t be expecting him.  Just as he liked it. This would be an interesting year.  After the exams, one of the participants had even come in and tried to talk him into giving some of her points to another student!  He hadn’t let her of course, the other student hadn’t needed it. A good sign, however, that the boy was already so inspiring. All Might had chosen well, and, speaking of which, so had Himura-san. Nedzu looked forward to teaching Amiko-chan.  There had been arguments of course.  The Hero Commission judges didn’t always see things along the same lines as he did, but for now, his final list of students was fairly close to how he had imagined things would play out based on quirks and the initial test scores.   There were a few notable surprises. Although he now knew that the inspiring young man he met at Himura-san’s party was Yagi-san’s chosen, he’d originally thought the boy must have a Quirk in analysis. If he could groom that ability, why, Young Midoriya would be nigh unstoppable as a symbol of peace! How clever of Yagi. Too bad it wasn’t so clever of Nedzu, as much as he liked Midoriya and his mother he had hoped to have more input into the selection.  Regardless, it was done, and now he would have to see what could be made of the boy.   His eyes twinkled and his mouth quirked into a secret smile. At least he got a bonus teacher out of it as well.    Turning the final corner, he noticed Yagi himself stepping into the staff-room in a very yellow suit.  Continuing to smile, Nedzu followed on silent paws. 
US Staff Room,
A few minutes earlier  The UA staff-room supposedly held some of the best and brightest of the Hero world. The school, after all, was the best and the brightest; the teachers and staff should reflect that. And they did.  Most of the time. “Hizashi, what did I tell you this morning.” It wasn’t a question, but rather a demand. Aizawa was too tired to bother pretending his husband did not know exactly what he was talking about. Hizashi took a deep breath and whined, “Buuutt whyyyyyy? Don’t you think it will be funny?!” “They won't get the joke.”  Aizawa evenly replied, although his face betrayed a slight flush. A few of the other teachers were watching the ‘argument’ like something akin to a tennis match. “But we will!”  Hizashi cajoled, and slipped past a huffing Aizawa to place a pineapple with a large red bow on Himira’s new desk before placing an equally spiky fruit with a large yellow bow on Toshinori’s desk. The offending fruit both received glares; free or not, they only reminded Aizawa that he’d had a hangover and that this was not funny. Unhelpfully, they did not spontaneously combust. "I want a divorce." Nemuri chuckled, taking over Kenshin’s desk chair and plucking up the offending fruit.  She tossed it into the air a couple times. “Do these seriously just show up when you drink, or were you just having me on?”  Aizawa just grumbled.  Mic grinned and flashed a smirk at his partner and fellow teacher, “Oh, who knows.  Perhaps he buys them in his sleep. But then, where does he get me?” "Hizashi, we live together." Nemuri was about to grill them further when Kenshin rushed in, glancing at the clock and exhaling in relief.  “Ah...time for tea…?” He smiled at everyone and then noticed the fruit on his desk with amusement, “Oro, a pineapple? Tensei laughs every time we see one.” Mic looked surprised, and Nemuri burst into laughter, “You know about the Pineapple?” She asked, placing the fruit back onto his desk. “Oro, know? It is a fruit?” Kenshin briefly wondered if pineapples had become something completely different from the last time he had one, about twenty years ago, before the kettle shrieks. Nemuri startles and drops the fruit back onto his desk. It didn’t explode, so Kenshin assumed, unlike the American ones, that the Pineapple Mystery isn’t dangerous, for now. He started over to the teapot, only for Mic to slide in before him and steal the last glass in the pot, when he frowns, Mic pats his cheek. “Orientation, listener. I have to go warm up!” He skips out the door, somehow not spilling a drop, and Kenshin reluctantly puts on another pot rather than chasing him down. The other teachers in the staff-room had noticed the commotion, and likely realised exactly who Kenshin was. Indeed, Thirteen stood up from her desk and bowed in greeting, “Himura-san.  It is good to finally meet you! Kenshin turned around and smiled, bowing in return, “And you!  I have seen your rescue work, very impressive!” “Your hero work is undercover, yes?  Nedzu said he had recruited you himself.” Thirteen asked this earnestly, excited to hear about undercover work. Aizawa didn't talk much about it, so when a much friendlier undercover hero appeared.. Kenshin looked briefly bemused, and then smiled, “Something like that.  Most of my hero work in recent years is undercover, yes.” “And he’s terrible at it," Aizawa grumbled with a twitch at the corner of his mouth, which he then hid behind his large coffee mug. He drinks like a dehydrated man in a desert; somewhat counter-productively; since coffee dehydrates you more. Regardless, he’s had caffeine, and Kenshin considers how much his Oath matters to him in the face of getting that mug of coffee from the eternally sleepy man. “Oi!” Was Kenshin’s very British, very indignant reply, although there was amusement in his voice. “I’d have you know that I’m perfectly good at hero work!” Aizawa snorts, “Yes, but you also have bright red hair. If you weren’t basically a ninja, I would have called both you and support idiots.” Kenshin mockingly growls, shaking his fist at the man, who had morphed into a caterpillar as soon as his coffee was done. What was the point in drinking it if he was simply going back to sleep right after? They were distracted by Yagi entering the staff-room.  “Himura-san, my friend! Excited for your first day? Oh!” The man paused, picking up the pineapple, “How kind.” The resemblance between his friend and the yellow fruit was remarkable, especially in Yagi’s favoured suit; itself bright yellow. Kenshin smiled and poured himself some tea from the freshly brewed pot and set the pot back on the heating element. “I got one too, that I did. Apparently there is a story…” He turns to Toshinori, who shrugs; so he also doesn’t know. Hm. A mystery to solve together. “It is very amusing, but perhaps you should all be getting ready for your classes?”  Kenshin nearly spills tea on himself from his aborted jump, startled from Nedzu’s voice coming from behind him. “A Nedzu?!” He knew Nedzu basically owned the school, but he’d assumed it would be much easier to see or hear his friend coming in the large, echo-y hallways. Unfortunately, Nedzu cares not for logic or simply does not allow it to affect him, because he steps up to the counter, silent and mischievous as always. Nedzu pours himself a cup of tea while smiling his secret smile at all of them, eyes twinkling.  ‘When did he even come in?!’  Kenshin glances over at Aizawa, who looks equally surprised. Hmm, nope.  Just Nedzu then. AIzawa blinks and takes that opportunity to slink out the door, still ensconced in his sleeping bag.  Kenshin chokes in a laugh, and waving to Yagi who is scrambling to grab what he needs from his desk, decides to follow the yellow caterpillar up the hall. He bows as quickly as he can to Nedzu, as the principle of the school, before dashing out the door. Aizawa is, surprisingly, half way down the hall by the time the red-headed man set foot out the staff-room door. “Aizawa! Wait up!”  Aizawa’s students are young, adorable, and full of fear. Mostly by virtue of having something similar to a zombie rise from the dead solely to scold them and criticize how they go to chop off his head. “You’ve done it wrong,” Kenshin feels like he’d say. “You have to swing the sword sideways, but by then I’ve eaten you so you fail.”  Kenshin watches the kids file out onto the field, chattering amongst themselves, and wonders if this how Shishio felt beating him nearly to death when he was seven. Probably not, though. Shishio was filled with rage and displaced aggression, and Kenshin simply felt old. Watching them, Kenshin reminds himself to drill Amiko harder on fitness. Outside of Midoriya, who could now probably bench Yagi in his All Might disguise, and a taller boy with red and white hair, these kids seem remarkably out of shape for prospective heroes. Well, he amends as a blonde boy explodes, literally, and sends a the ball he’d been handed meters away; most of them are out of shape. The red-headed boy with the spikes seems to give Midoriya a run for his money. The kids have begun talking amongst themselves again, so Kenshin turns to ask Aizawa what he’d told them when he tunes back in and hears, “...will be expelled.”   Kenshin just blinks at Aizawa, having a moment of disbelief while the class all reacts with various dismay and alarm. “Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?” he murmurs lowly to his friend. Aizawa turns to him and quietly answers under the background conversations, “If they can’t handle the pressure now, they aren’t going to live through being a hero.” Kenshin doesn’t entirely agree, but he nods slowly while Aizawa turns to the rest of his class.  The teenagers work their way through the events, and Kenshin can’t help but feel bad for Midoriya, who seems to generally be a ball of anxiety all the time, even if he pulls through. The boy should be doing better; but he doesn’t easily compose himself under pressure. However, it doesn’t help that Aizombie is lurking menacingly in the background.  He leans back over to Aizawa as Midoriya returns to the ball throw with a determined look on his face. “You’re being harsh on him,” Kenshin points out, “I’m sure Yagi mentioned it, but the boy’s quirk only emerged the day before the entrance exam; before that, everyone thought he was quirkless. He’d actually been training to take the Exam under those conditions.” Aizawa turns his head to him, incredulous.  “What?” He hisses, but then, there is a hair-raising BOOM from the direction of Midoriya. They both turn, and the boy is still standing, arm thrown forward. Another explosion of sound comes from above them; and the class and both teachers watch in awe as the ball breaks the sound barrier several times. “Sensei,” Midoriya says shakily, holding his wrist. It looked like his index finger is broken, and Kenshin watched in horrified awe as the boy clenches his fist regardless. “I’m still standing.” Aizawa looks at the boy with a blank expression, but his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile. “Hm,” He says simply, but from him it’s a glowing endorsement. Midoriya steps away, excused to get his hand healed, and the rest of the students go. Very few of them make such literal booms among the results; most of them don’t have quirks applicable to this test, but they all mostly do well. By the time Midoriya got back, everyone had finished, and it was time to look at the results. Midoriya had settled in last place; inexplicably. Aizawa made a face, and privately, Kenshin did the same. The boy had training, but if he was going to be so anxious as to fail tests he should have passed with flying colors, perhaps Kenshin should have showed up to the boy’s training more often.  The boy looks crushed. Aizawa maintains his uncaring facade and announces to the class. “I suppose you have all done well enough to remain.  We will have a lot of work to do. Go shower and change.”   There is a collective sigh of relief and Midoriya bursts into tears.  Some of his classmates come up to collect him and they all trickle from the field. Kenshin notices Aizawa still.  No. Eraserhead, for in that moment, he is very much the hero. “Toshinori and I will have words.” Kenshin flinches, “He has been trying to prepare the boy as well as he can.” Eraserhead meets his violet eyes, “He should have told me.” In orientation, Yagi shudders and looks up, unsure why he suddenly feels so nervous. 
Unknown location, Japan. Wednesday, April 6th, 2287.

4:32am (0432)

Dabi doesn’t remember a lot about himself. There was a life before Dabi. He’s sure of that. He had a life, he had a name, a real name, and at least one person who loved him.  He was Todoroki Touya, and then he was the Hero-in-Training, Inferno.  Dabi doesn’t remember a lot of things, but Inferno will never leave him. Inferno was strong, untouchable; he was well-liked and had a respectable reputation.  Touya was a shadow. Touya had Fuyumi-What does she look like, whatdoesshelooklikeTHINK- but he was disposable. Touya was quiet, he was starved for affection; his mother couldn’t bear to look at him and his father never lifted a hand out of anything but contempt. Even when Dabi wasn’t himself, when he was Touya; when Touya wasn’t drowning in the blood on his hands, he wasn’t a person, but a puppet. Inferno was the scissors who cut the strings. But Inferno; and god, what a childish name- Dabi got brave. He had friends , now, he had a life outside of the Todoroki Estate. He was trained, he was dangerous, he was brave- he was an idiot. Endeavor had handed him a file--a list of ladies his age that would make acceptable wives. Touya had taken one look, looking for something he knew he wouldn’t find, and dropped it back on the table. “I can’t,” He’d said. “I won’t.” Endeavor would not be swayed so simply. “You will.” Not ‘You can,’ not ‘You should.’ You will. “I won’t,” He’d said. He explained why; I wont, I Can’t, Donttouchme-  Dabi remembers burning. He remembers the cold. He remembers waking up on the banks of a river miles away from his home. He doesn’t remember what Shouto looks like, or his mother. Fuyumi is a distant memory. So is Natsuou. All he has is their names. All he has is revenge.  He’ll save them. 
He can, and he will.

Hero Commission West Offices, Yamaguchi Clinic, Tokyo, Japan,

Wednesday April 6, 2287

5:15am (0515)
 “Thank you for allowing me to come in so early, so I’m not missing work.” Kenshin smiles at Doctor Hikimoto who quickly returns the smile.  “It is my pleasure, thank you for responding so quickly to my request!  The results have been frankly fascinating, and I am thrilled that you have been so open to working with us.”   The man pulls out a stack of actual paper files.  Kenshin had requested they keep the results within the clinic, and the Doctor had tried his best to ensure the confidentiality of the testing. Flipping to a few plastic sheets, with bright charts of results, Doctor Hikimoto turned again to Kenshin, “So, these scans here, you can see that when we introduced your blood to all of these samples, it adapted and actually changed to become the blood type of whatever it was introduced to.  It was amazing!”   Kenshin smiled at the beaming doctor, who continued, “There are so many medical applications to this and we could save so many lives!  If we could perhaps just get another few samples, we might be able to find a way to replicate the properties or at least a way to extend them…” The man gushes, obviously very excited about his research. Tilting his head slightly, Kenshin interrupts, “What about Toshinori-san?” The doctor blinks, startled out of his rant, “Ah, yes, Toshinori-san.  He is...still doing as well as expected.” Kenshin shakes his head, and then lifts his violet eyes to meet the gaze of the doctor, “You must use this to find a way to help him.  First. Then I will give you additional samples.” The doctor flushes subtly and then bows, ‘Of course Himura-san.  I have gotten caught up in my work and forgot your original request.  I will do my best.” 
UA High School,

Mid Afternoon, Tuesday, April 5, 2287
 Kenshin stood in the front corner and watched the procession of students head into the classroom after lunch. Usually it would be him coming into the classroom, since the children don’t go from class to class; instead the teachers go to the students. Japan hadn't had a formal education system when he left, not really, so the changes from Western education were interesting. He smiled as some of them eyed him curiously.  From some of their quiet comments, wondering who this random man was in their classroom, and wondering if they should get a teacher. A few acknowledged his presence with small bows. Midoriya even gave him a smile and a wave.  The bell rang, and the explosive blond boy looked around before yelling over to him, “Oi, I thought our teacher was a pro! What is some extra doing here?" In the boy's defense, Kenshin didn't wear his hero costume to the school; he only had the one, and it spent the day getting washed. A few people mumble in rep reprimand, anyway. Midoriya looked like he was about to interject when the younger Iida-and he did look quite a bit like Tensei, didn't he?- stood and lectured his classmate, hand chopping the air for emphasis, “You should respect those around you.  He could be anyone! What if he is someone from the Hero Commission? I am sure our Sensei will explain when they arrive.” Kenshin flashed a grin and abandoned his corner to stand in the front of the class as the bell rang, “Indeed I will.” “There was a moment of stunned silence and Midoriya looking smug before the class burst out into incredulity.  “Settle down.” Kenshin said quietly, and remarkably, the room fell silent. He smiled, usually teenagers were much harder to quiet. How wonderful-perhaps Aizawa's influence? “Welcome to World History.  I am Himura Kenshin, also known as the Underground Hero, Battousai.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Forgotten Mountain Shrine, Japan.  Saturday, October 23rd, 2286

7 Months
Before
the Start of School
 
“So you never did ….explain to me... why Battousai?”  Tensei breathed heavily, pausing in his questioning on and off until the path evened out, “..Isn’t that a name more associated with, I don’t know,  murder more than hero work? It just seems like an odd name to choose. He was a killer, even though he did help win that war. I guess you do use a sword..”  
 
Kenshin smiled sideways at his friend while Tensei caught his breath and considered how to answer.  “Told you It was a climb.” He stalled and looked around, enjoying the companionship and the semi-nostalgic surroundings. “And you are right,” his expression sobered slightly, “It is a title, a name associated with death.”
 
“So perhaps I am not used to being up this high.” Tensei allowed while looking around, “It is beautiful up here though.  Thank you for inviting me. I didn’t even know this place was here.”  
 
“There is a more touristy shrine a short way from here.  It gets much more public attention.”
 
The leaves rustled with a cool breeze and some drifted to the ground.  The smell of fall was heavy in the air, and they walked without hurrying into the center of the clearing. Kenshin smiled and waved at the fox watching them from just inside the main door.  The man startled slightly, still in the shadows, and went back inside. Tensei, who hadn’t noticed they were being watched, sat at one of the benches near the Koi pond in front of the main building, panting.  “How did you know about this place?”
 
Kenshin considers for a few minutes what to say, and with some heaviness decides he is tired.  His friend will either believe him or he won't. He decides on the truth, and is grateful his friend isn’t uncomfortable while he gathers his thoughts, not filling the silence with idle chatter.
 
Lifting his violet eyes to meet Tensei’s gaze, he watches his expression while he replies, “I used to live here. A few hundred years ago.”
 
Tensei blinks. “What?”
 
Dithering over how to explain, Kenshin opens his mouth, only to close it again as their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of two of the monks from the main building of the shrine. Kitsunemoto, his fox-like features as cute as Kenshin remembers (his tail is twitching!), and Kobayashi, who still looks overly serious. He is holding a paper-wrapped package and a medium sized wooden box. Kitsunemoto seems surprisingly excited.
 
“Himura-san.”  Kobayashi greets him, with a neutral tone, and glances to Tensei who bows, and introduces himself. 
 
Kenshin smiles warmly and returns their greetings, “Kobayashi-sama and Kitsunemoto-sama.  I am glad to see you both well. Did my message reach you, and my papers from the Tokyo office?”
 
“They did!” Kitsunemoto replies before Kobayashi can speak, his too sharp grin flashing at them, “It was quite a surprise to have your claim verified.” 
 
Kobayashi grunts at his fox-like companion who steps back sheepishly, allowing his superior to step forward. “We did.  We have prepared the items you requested for transport. I would still like to verify your Japanese ID however. You did bring it with you?”
 
Tensei watches the exchange with obvious curiosity, since Kenshin hadn’t told him much beyond that they were hiking to a shrine. Kenshin glances briefly at him before answering, “I am glad you have been able to collect them.  They are quite dear to me.” He smiles warmly, pulling out his wallet with his ID card, before handing it over for inspection.
 
Kitsunemoto sneaks up behind the lead monk, reading over his shoulder, tail twitching. “Amazing!  It is actually you?”
 
Kenshin smirks, “Well, I would not be anyone but myself.”
 
Tensei’s obvious confusion only adds to Kenshin’s amusement of the moment.  He looks for all the world, like someone witnessing a shady deal and isn’t sure if it’s better to intervene or just wait it out.  
 
Kobayashi seems to war with himself for a moment, before making a low bow to Kenshin, “Please forgive my skepticism and ignorance, Himura-sama. I am ashamed of my prior rudeness.”
 
“You were only doing your duty.  I thank you for demanding verification. Without your diligence, these items may have been lost to me forever.   Thank you.” Kenshin replies, bowing in return.  
 
Kobayashi nods once, and carefully hands over the wrapped painting and box to Kenshin, who takes them, tucking the box under one arm.  He glances at Kitsunemoto and then turns to go back into the shrine.  
 
A bouncy Kitsunemoto flashes his too-sharp smile at Kenshin and Tensei before he notices that Kenshin’s hands are full, and hands Kenshin’s ID to Tensei.  Turning back to Kenshin, he asks hopefully, “Perhaps you would be willing to share some stories of your time here? If not now, some other time, or by letter?  I would love to be able to get your account of that point in history, and those that lived here.”
 
Kenshin grins, obviously pleased that someone shares his joy of history, “I would be honored.  You have my address, as it was sent with my verification documents. Please feel free to write, and I will answer.   I am not sure when I will be back next, but I will try to visit soon.”
 
With wide eyes, Tensei looks up at Kenshin from staring with some shock as his ID, “Soon to us mere mortals? Or soon relative to your -”  he glances back down at the ID, “437 years!?”
 
Tensei flushes at having been so rude, and Tensei and Kenshin both flinch when Kitsunemoto bursts out laughing, “Oh, your faces!”  He coughs, gathering himself together. “Ah...Tea?”
 
Tensei rubs the back of his head, while Kenshin then laughs, “Of course!  Perhaps I can share some of my stories before we go.”
  
They have an enjoyable afternoon, Kenshin sharing some of his past, and discovering that yes, Kitsunemoto-san’s fur is indeed soft.  
 
As the sun is setting, almost back down the trail to the town, Tensei looks up at his friend and asks again, “ - so, you never did answer me earlier…”
 
“Answer what?” Kenshin smiles easily, kicking up a bit of dust.
 
“Why Battosai as your hero name.”
 
There is silence for a bit, and the heavy tread of going downhill, but eventually Kenshin replies, “Because it - he, is a part of who I am. I ran from that for many years. I still do, in some ways.” 
 
Kenshin skirts around a large stone, holding aside a branch for Tensei to step by more easily, “It, as a name, has long stood for death, and murder, but I want it to be more than that, better than that, a chance to redeem the meaning for something more.”
 
He stops, waiting for Tensei to come up beside him, and meets his friends eyes, “It is mine to reclaim.”
 
Tensei thinks about that for a moment, watching Kenshin's earnest expression before bursting out, “Wait, you are

THE

Battosai??!”
 
UA High School, Class 1A Classroom

The Second Day of Class, Mid Afternoon, Tuesday, April 5, 2287
 
It is with some regret that Kenshin’s attention is brought back to the present moment, with a loud “Battosai - as in the

Manslayer?!”

from the same blond that was mouthing off earlier.
 
Kenshin narrows his eyes at the loud blond, “It is my name to choose as I will.  The subject at hand is not my Hero Name, but this course of study. Please pay attention.”
 
Another blond with an odd black streak in their hair snickers.  The angry boy flushes angrily (go figure) and slumps back down into his chair.
 
Midoriya frets.
 
“Today we will have a test, to determine what you have retained from your prior study.  This will help me better plan for your coursework over the rest of the year.” Some of the class groan as Kenshin starts to pass out the test papers, and oddly, Iida the younger looks a bit excited. 
 
“I realize that you may not understand why history is

important

to you as a hero -”  Kenshin walks back up to the front of the room as he lectures, allowing time to take out writing implements. He can hear the scrape of desks and pencil cases opening behind him.
 
Turning to face the room, he finally continues, “It is because you need to know where you come from, in order to know

where to go, and who you are

. Every moment in history happened because someone willed it so.  Everything you read, everything you eat, everything you hear was at some point decided on by someone, and brought into being.”  
 
Shifting his weight, he leans back against his desk and half-sits, gesturing with one hand, “Often, what really happened is lost to time and propaganda. The victors after all, write the narrative.  It is important that you understand that what others consider heroic depends on who is doing the action, as well as who is viewing the action. Popular opinion can change very quickly…” he pauses, and then flashes a grin to the class, “but I am going off on tangents.  Suffice it to say, history drives who we all are, and if we do not learn from our mistakes, we

will

repeat them.”   
 
Midoriya is sitting, patiently waiting for the instruction to begin, while many of his classmates are flipping through the short test, looking over the questions and topics.  Kenshin’s attention is drawn again to the angry blond, who is eyeing him with some interest “Oi, these questions on the Meiji revolution. How in depth will we get on things that far back.”  
 
Kenshin quirks his lips slightly,

‘I should have known someone would know their history’

and considers how to answer, “That depends on what you can show you already know on the exams.”
 
Angry boy quickly pipes up, “No one answer those right!” he demands loudly, glaring at those around him.
 
A red haired boy with spiky teeth speaks up, “Nah man, we should do our best!” 
 
He is almost overlapped in his comment by a girl with bright pink skin, “I’m not sure anyone knows

how

to answer those….”
 
The boy with tape arms chimes in, looking confused, “What’s a Sanitation Movement?”
 
Kenshin frowns and is about to answer when he notices one of the students mutter,

who appears to be a bird

, “What a mad banquet of darkness!”
 
Kenshin blinks. His thought completely dissipating.
 
“30 minutes. You may begin.”
 
The Austerium, Kenshin’s Apartment, Musutafu, Tokyo, Japan.

Sunday April 10, 2287, Late Morning through Late Night
 
Nemuri and Tensei leaned back against the breakfast bar, watching Kenshin try to hang the painting on the living room wall.  They had all somewhat recovered from last nights’ End of the First Week Karaoke celebration. Yagi was standing a bit back, but in front of him, trying to helpfully direct the hanging, “There! It now appears to hang straight. But it is a bit higher than I think you expected.  It is not in line with the other portraits.”
 
Kenshin adjusted it slightly lower and glanced over his shoulder at his tall friend, “It’s straight though right?  It doesn’t have to be perfectly in line.”  
 
Nemuri pipes up, “It looks lined up from here.  Grouped well with the war photos.”
 
Tensei made a noise of agreement and sipped his coffee.
 
Lowering his hands and stepping back, Kenshin’s gaze lingers on the painting. Time has slightly dulled the colors, but it is still beautiful, capturing that moment.

‘I suppose I should get it restored.’

He turns with a somewhat wistful expression on his face, and smiles halfway at his friends, “Thank you for your help.”  He takes a deep breath, and steps over to the kitchen, picking up his mug again.

‘Finally feels like home.’

Nemuri smiles at him, “It is a beautiful painting. Why did you wait so long to hang it back up?”  Before Kenshin can answer, she turns her attention to Tensei, “Although I am not sure if I believe the story of how you collected it.”
 
Tensei just grins at her, winks at Kenshin, and sips his coffee.  Kenshin snorts.
 
Yagi finally moves back to join the group, “Who was the artist? And how old is this painting?  It seems like something that should be in the museum.”
 
“It was painted by Henry Green, an Englishman, while in Japan, oh, 300 something years ago.  He stayed for a short while at the shrine. And he was an idiot. A talented, wonderful idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.”
 
“Is that why you went to London?”, Tensei quickly puts the information (that only he has) together.  Everyone else looks at him blankly and Kenshin nods slowly.
 
“What does going to London have to do with a 300 year old painting?” Nemuri asks curiously, swirling the tea in her cup absently with her spoon.
 
“Ah well Henry lived there, and I was concerned about hi- his family, since the war was just beginning.  I wanted to ensure they were safe.”
 
Nemuri tilts her head slightly, “You...the war? The quirk wars?”  She is obviously confused, “Wouldn’t that have been before you were born?”
 
Yagi slouched on one of the stools, watching him with his dark glittering eyes, starting to catch on “Do you mean one of the

world

wars?”
 
Kenshin shifted somewhat uncomfortably, remembered that this isn’t something he needs to hide anymore, and then exhales in a long breath, “Yes.  World War..” He pauses, thinking, “2. Quite a bit of suspicion for a Japanese man in Europe, let me tell you.” He flashes a grin and sips his coffee, watching their expressions guardedly. He’d had bad reactions in the past, after all.
 
Tensei just smirks at him and shakes his head, “They aren’t going to put it together by themselves.  It’s too far fetched.”
 
“Put what together?”  Yagi asks generally, looking at Kenshin with some suspicion, “You aren’t secretly a Villain or something... right?” He sounds very tentative by the end, as if begging someone to deny it.
 
“Of course not.” Kenshin replies, vaguely offended.  Toshinori looks relieved.
 
Nemuri just considers all of them silently, and Kenshin can see when she puts it together, since she looks almost stunned.  “You...you aren’t joking. Over 300 years?!?”
 
“Since the painting? Or since I was born?”  Kenshin asks, hands wrapped around his coffee mug and sitting a bit too still.
 
Tensei reaches out and touches his shoulder, offering some comfort, “They’ll be fine with it. I was.

Am

.”
 
Kenshin meets his gaze and smirks, “

After

freaking out for a few days, yes.”
 
Nemuri watches this exchange, then glances up to the framed “sword license” on the wall, and then back to Kenshin, and then over the random photographs, and then to the painting.  Finally, she turns back to him and smiles subtly, “My dear, you

are

more than you appear.  How many years then, since you were born -

Rurouni?

”
 
Kenshin grins at her and Tensei looks a bit put out that she put it all together so quickly.  Yagi still looks lost. 
 
With a bright smile that shows in his eyes this time, he replies, “437 years.”
 
Toshinori coughs blood,  “Impossible.”, And both Nemuri and Tensei jump.
 
Kenshin sips his tea.
 
Their conversation is interrupted by someone bursting in the door unannounced.  Everyone is on their feet within moments, in various combat stances, in time for them to recognize a very angry looking Aizawa.  “You!!” He practically growls, pointing at Toshinori, who is still in his “small might” form. 
 
“Me?”  He glances from side to side, taking a step back.
 
The others only slightly relax from their readiness as Aizawa continues, black eyes narrowed and hair slightly stirring, despite the lack of breeze, “Yes, you!

You

have been

avoiding

me, and we need to have a

Conversation

.”
 
Aizawa stalks up, grasps Toshinori by the ear and drags him out of the apartment.
 
The remaining friends blink at the door that has slammed behind them.  “Well, it was nice knowing him,” Nemuri says, deadpan.
 
Tensei snickers.
 
Later that night, Kenshin’s Apartment
 
Kenshin glances blearily up at the clock, and cringes a bit that it is so late, or perhaps so early.   It had been a great evening, but the last of his friends had left a half hour or so earlier, to catch the late train.  
 
With a sigh, he empties the last of his bottle of scotch into his tumbler and then slouches into the couch facing the wall of photographs and Henry’s painting.  He had always loved the way the light reflected on the water in the stream. It was like a snapshot in time -

a simpler time perhaps?

Taking a long drink from his glass, he smiles back on the memory of his friends’ companionable bickering, drawing his mind into the present.  No use getting morose. Henry was, like so many others, gone. But at least he had others who

now

cared for him.  Another purpose in his life. 
 
His eyes can’t help but run over the painting again as he smiles softly, raising his glass, “Here’s to you, Henry.  Thank you for being… Thank you. I miss you.” There's a sense of melancholy, now, that pervades his memories of Henry. He was a vibrant man, full of life until the very end. His children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren were huge parts of Kenshin’s life, and had been for over two hundred years. Still are, to some degree.
 
Sometimes, though, Kenshin wished he’d been selfish.
 
Henry and Kenshin had been good friends.

Very

good friends. They’d spoken in poems and riddles; Kenshin fondly remembers conversations that lasted well into the night, long after everyone had gone to bed. 
 
There had always been a distance, however, that neither of them had dared reach across. That gap remained carefully empty; and even after Henry’s wife had died (and bless her, really. Kenshin missed her nearly as fiercely as he did his old friend) they’d kept it up. What else were they going to do? Henry had been in his late fifties, then, and missed his wife dearly. Even Kenshin, immortal, distant from the very idea; he could see that his dear Henry wasn’t long for it.
 
Those letters, though. The songs they’d sung, even a world apart. The comfortable silences.

The poems.

Kenshin remembers one, clear as day. He’d remember it for as long as he lived, because he couldn’t bring himself to forget. It was a poem that said a million things to him; and although Robert Frost had written it, the old Rurouni heard his dear friend in every word.

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though:

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

Kenshin still wonders, sometimes, if it’s worth it to keep on like this. He’s tired, now. So tired. Hell, he was tired at

sixty

, let alone four hundred. ‘

No

.’  He thinks. ‘

It’s worth it. It has to be.’

He resolves himself, once more, for the thousandth time, as the last stanza of his and Henry’s poem lingers in his head.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

And miles to go before I sleep.

Finishing off his glass, he rests it in his lap, tilting his head back against the grey sofa cushions and closing his eyes.  “You would have liked them.” he murmurs as he finally relaxes and drifts off.
 
Dagobah Municipal Beach Park, Musutafu, Japan.

Sunday April 10, 2287, Mid-afternoon
 
Midoriya shouldn’t be surprised anymore when Amiko knocks him into the sand, but it punches the breath out of him every time. They were sparring on the beach, enjoying the exercise and cool ocean air at the same time. Every time either of them won, someone would cheer. It was actually...really fun.
 
Midoriya and Amiko weren’t the only two enjoying a particularly warm day out near the ocean.  There was a pleasant breeze, and fluffy clouds broke up the sun from time to time. Nearby a mother and her small child tried building a sand castle, and there were various people out walking or hanging out with friends.  A jogger passes nearby, avoiding the patch of sand they've torn up with their sparring.  Midoriya smiles at Amiko “It’s so much nicer now! I’m glad we helped clean it up so everyone can enjoy the park again.” Amiko nods, wiping sweat away from her forehead and heading to their combined stuff.  
 
She collapses onto the blanket he had brought to keep the sand off, and he flops down next to her.  They were still recovering from their last bout. Recently, Midoriya had been taking advantage of the opportunity to work on his fighting techniques with Amiko and Kenshin as often as possible. He’d like to think that he was getting better, but based on how easily the smaller girl put him on his backside, he had a lot to learn.
 
Amiko opens her bottle of water, and turns to ask if he is thirsty with a mischievous look on her face.  Eyeing her, “Sure.” he replies, somewhat suspicious of her intentions. She’d pulled little pranks on him before, but he is still surprised when a bottle of water falls on his head with a ‘thunk’. He squeaks, “Gah!! Where did that..?!”
 
“Is that enough? Still thirsty?”, She interrupts with an innocent grin when he picks the bottle up off the ground.  He looks at her, still confused. Another two bottles of water pop out of the hazy purple-green opening in the air above him, falling in front of his face as he quickly shifts back on the blanket to avoid them, “Oi!”  
 
She laughs loudly, hiding her smile with a long drink from her own water bottle and watches him flounder a bit, trying to figure out the trick.  “They said no quirks while sparring, they

never

said no quirks while sitting.”
 
“That’s right!” Izuku bursts in, “Your quirk is so amazing, Amiko-chan!  Can you carry anything? How much can you put in there at once? People? It would be great for rescue work, if so--”  Midoriya quickly devolves into his usual mumbling analysis of her quirk and applications of it.

She bursts out laughing, and Midoriya flushes with embarrassment, stopping his tirade.  
 
“You’re fun, Midoriya-san.  I really enjoy hanging out with you.”  Amiko says with a grin, and Midorya flushes again, spluttering for a different reason now.

Someone likes hanging out with me??

Changing the subject to spare himself additional embarrassment, Izuku starts telling her about his first week of class.  He mentions his classmates, describing them and laughing at the nicknames that Amiko assigns them based on the descriptions.  Amiko breaks in after he mentions Bakugou, “Kacchan?, isn’t that kid you said bullied you for years?” 
 
He flushes, “Well, he’s really not that bad.  He’s just so great at things. You’d see if you met him.”  Midoriya of course defends him.  
 
She scoffs, “Maybe.” 
 
He shrugs, knowing she will probably never agree with him about Kacchan. “Anyway, he got all upset and demanded no one answer the questions on the Meiji revolution correctly.”  He took a long drink from his water bottle, while she mulled that over.
 
“But why? 
 
“I'm not sure, but I think it might have something to do with Himura-sensei. He was kind of funny after Sensei mentioned his hero name.” 
 
“Himura-sensei?”  She considers that, “Well, that would make some sense.  He would know.”
 
Midoriya still looks dreadfully lost, “Well, he does teach history?  I suppose he would?”
 
She snorts at him, leaning back on both hands and crossing her ankles, “Pretty sure living through things makes you a bit of an expert.”
 
“Living through..” He pauses, his mind going a mile a minute, “..The Meiji revolution?  But he’s like..30.”
 
She shakes her head again with a smile. Sitting up, she pulls her phone out of her bag and brings up the camera, leaning over to show him, “Ok, so - you should come to the dojo sometime, we have all these there, but you can maybe see some in the background…”  She flips through a few photos, and then tries to zoom in past the foreground to show the photos on the wall. “Alright, so, this guy here, this is my ancestor, Yahiko, and supposedly, Himira-sensei knew him.

In person

.”  She scrolls through a few more, zooming past her mom sparring with one of the students to the background, “And see this?  Well, it is a bit blurry, but this is Himura-sensei with a few others around the same time. It looks just like him!”
 
Izuku blinks, “But - this is...Old.  Really old.”
 
“

Exactly.

He’s ancient!  That or he looks just like his ancestor.” She gestures excitedly. 
 
“Whoa.”  Suddenly, Bakugou’s reaction makes a lot more sense.  “You are right though, he could just look….very similar to his ancestor.  Some people do.”  Somehow, he can't seem to convince himself with his own logic.
 
She grins, “True.” her eyes twinkle with curiosity, “you could always ask him.”
 
He waves frantically in the negative, “I couldn’t do that! What would I even say?

‘Hey, are you four hundred?’

That’s so rude!”
 
She just laughs, and they move on to discussing other things while they clean up.  They agree to meet again next weekend before parting ways.  
 
Midoriya can’t help but mull over it in his mind on the way home.

Is it possible?  Could his sensei be that old?  Immortal even?? Is he some sort of creature?!

He can’t help but consider all the pictures on the wall he remembers from his visit to Himura-sensei’s apartment with his mom and Allmight.  If only he had known to take a closer look!
 
When he gets home his mother calls him into the kitchen to eat.  He scarfs his food quickly, his mind on other things while Inko just shakes her head, used to only getting one word answers from her son when he’s focused on other things.  After dinner, he shuts himself in his room and brings up his computer, determined to research everything he can find. Pulling a notebook from nowhere, he writes, “Evidence and Theories” at the top, and gets to work, determined to figure out the mystery of their new Sensei.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Tokyo, Japan, Unknown Location

Tuesday, April 19, 2287 12:06am (0006)
 
It was cold.
 
Toga was always cold, now. She didn’t live at home anymore, but Mama used to wrap her up in blankets to hide from Dad, and that was always warm. Mama was warm. Dad was always loud. Then Mama was cold, too, and Dad was yelling. He was always so loud, and

he was the one who hit her so hard--

She’d grabbed Mama’s kitchen knife.
 
 Dad was cold, now, too.
 
Toga shivered.

UA High School, Class 1A Classroom

Late Afternoon, Tuesday, April 19, 2287
 
“Deku!”  
 
The demanding voice of Bakugou breaks into Izuku’s concentration, and he looks up nervously at the scowling blond. The other boy is snarling, as usual, and a faint whiff of burnt sugar fills the air. “Sorry Kacchan, I..”
 
“Save it, stupid Deku.  What did you want to ask me. I’m here, so ask.” He glowers and crosses his arms impatiently across his chest. Nervously, Midoriya glances up to make sure that their instructor has left, and then back at Bakugou, who is now surrounded by a few of his other classmates.  “Well, I..I don’t know if everyone is here yet, and I don’t want to go over it twice…” he hesitantly continues, eyes still on his angry childhood friend. It’s hard to believe he’d stayed behind for something

Midoriya

had to say.
 
“Yeah, what did you want to show us, Midoriya-san?” Uraraka pipes up, “You seemed really nervous, earlier!”
 
“He seems nervous,

now.”

Sero pointed out, and Izuku flushed in confirmation. He

was

anxious. 
 
“Better not be wasting my time, fucking Deku,” Katsuki grumbles. He growls as Kirishima pushes his way to the front of the growing crowd around Izuku’s desk; bumping into Katsuki’s shoulder slightly, unafraid of death. The red haired boy smiles at Bakugou even as the angry boy shouts at him. “And what do you want, Shitty Hair?”  
 
Kirishima leans against Bakugou, throwing an arm around him and giving a bright, sharp smile, “I’m here to find out what Midori’s been up to-- same as you, Baku-bro!”  
 
“What did you just call me?!”
 
Regardless of Bakugou’s shouts, or perhaps in spite of them, more and more of Izuku’s classmates gather. As the last of them join the group from the corners of the classroom, he gains confidence. Maybe they

do

want to hear what he has to say!
 
Clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention, Izuku shakily brings out his notebook. “O-Okay, I want to show you this first, and then tell you my thoughts..anyway, you’ll see!” 
 
The book itself is now about half full of notes and pictures. His notes, as always, were extensive. He’d thrown himself into research like he hadn’t for any hero except All Might, after all. He’d even been able to go see Amiko-chan’s dojo and take pictures of the photo’s she’d talked about!
Anxiously, he swallows, before giving his best grin and putting the closed notebook on the table. A few of his classmates lean in to look at it, including Kirishima, who takes the still grumbling Bakugou with him. 
 
“I have a theory, that Himura-sensei,” He says, before he flips open the notebook to a full spread of photos with arrows and notes and people circled, “is

immortal!”

There is a chorus of questioning sounds and people jostle each other to get a better look. Uraraka squeaks as she’s pushed out of the way, and there’s a snort from Bakugou, who still struggles to escape Kirishima’s friendly arm. “Obviously, Deku!” He says, “It took you

this long

to figure that out? This was a waste of time…”
 
Mina, her pink skin losing color in disbelief, speaks out in surprise,  “Wait, you agree with him?”
 
Midoriya, equally disbelieving, only splutters as the blonde boy snatches the notebook to examine the pictures.
 
“I guess,”  Bakugou grumbles. Which is the nicest thing Izuku remembers him saying. Midoriya immediately flushes, but his reply is interrupted by Iida. 
 
“This is illogical, even with the photos; if you’ll excuse me, Midoriya-san.” Iida’s words are punctuated by chopping motions from one hand. “Our sensei could simply be related to these people! Who’s to say that he doesn’t just look like them?”
 
Izuku, daringly, grabs his notes from the snapping Bakugou and flips to the next page to explain, “Well, that’s what I thought, too, but then I went and spoke with the people who have these pictures.  She said

her ancestor

spoke highly of Himura-sensei and that they used to be good friends.  She has his journal."
 
"And Look!" he continues. His classmates shuffle each other out of the way as he flips to another photograph, this one of Himura and Myojin Yahiko, “It’s

uncanny

!  He still looks pretty much the same, and Amiko-chan confirmed that Himura-sensei was friends with the ancestor her mother was talking about. Besides! When I went to Himura-sensei’s house, it was full of photos from all over.  Photos of him in old clothes-the world wars, ancient Japan--all with him or Amiko-chan’s ancestors in them!”
 
“Wait, why were you in Himura-Sensei’s house?”  Todoroki speaks up from behind the group and they part to reveal him, still sitting at his desk in the back of the room. The other boy, tilting his head, frowns slightly more than usual, “Did you break in to his home?”
 
Izuku immediately jumps up, waving his hands in denial, “It’s not like that! I was invited.”
 
“Why were you invited?” Sero’s voice is questioning, “That's a bit odd, Midoriya.”
 
“Oh, well, it’s because Yagi-sensei was invited.” The others all frown, confused, and Midoriya realises his mistake. “Ah, I’m sorry! All Might-sensei!” The rest of the class makes noises of comprehension, but still look baffled.
 
Todoroki can barely be heard muttering to himself, “

Secret love child

.”
 
Bakugou frowns and slams his hand, sparking, into Izuku’s desk to regain the green-haired boy’s attention. “What do you mean, “you were invited because Yagi-san was invited?””
 
Midoriya opens his mouth to reply, but the group is startled when Aizawa grunts from the doorway, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. “Is there a problem here?”  He grumbles, his face a picture of annoyed exhaustion. Izuku’s classmates quickly move from the circle they’d formed, darting to their desks in an attempt to pretend they weren’t creating a fire hazard by being so close to Bakugou. Todoroki simply crosses his legs the other way, still in his desk.
 
“No!  No problem. I apologize if we were too loud, Aizawa-sensei.  We were just discussing our classes.” Yaoyorozu says politely, moving quickly to her desk and bowing in Aizawa’s direction once she’d reached it.
 
“Well stop discussing.” Aizawa grunts, waving a hand dismissively. “It's time to go. I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but you should already be preparing for the sports festival....

at home.

Official prep starts next week.  Leave.”
 
Hero Commission West Offices, Yamaguchi Clinic, Tokyo, Japan,

Wednesday April 20, 2287, Mid-Morning
 
Quirk science, while fascinating, was often equally frustrating.  Ryu had been thrilled to be asked by the Hero Commission to work on this project.  While he wasn’t the oldest or most knowledgeable quirk scientist around, he had made some impressive strides in recent years that had catapulted his credibility and notoriety in the worldwide quirk science community. It had taken years of study and countless projects and papers, but he was notable in the field. 
 
After his last paper had gained him so much acclaim, he really needed something to top it.  Over the last couple of weeks, he had really thought he was getting somewhere; only to have it all dashed when his carefully built conclusions had disintegrated, along with his latest test sample. 
 
With a cry of anger and frustration, he randomly mixed his batches with the last of this set of plasma and dropped it on another sample.
 
The tissue sample which had been taken from a burn victim healed before his eyes.
 
Ryu stood up in shock, running his hands through his wavy brown hair.  “Whah?”

Impossible.  It must be wrong.’

“I’ll do it again..” he finished his thought out loud.   
 
Sitting back down, he started the sequence over from the beginning and dropped the last blood sample in to the centrifuge, watching as it separated.  He carefully pulled some of the plasma into a syringe when it finished; and shifted to the next machine, zooming in the view on the screen while he dropped the plasma onto the tissue sample.  Once again, the tissue began to regenerate, and eventually slowed in healing to a crawl as the plasma dose was used up.  
 
Expected result.
 
He turned to the zillionth sample of synthesized compound from his testing, which based on quirk science as they knew it, shouldn’t work. Using his own wild theories as well as a lot of trial and error, he’d gotten closer than ever with this last batch though.  He dropped this mixture onto the next tissue sample. For a moment it seemed to start to heal, and then disintegrated into its previous state.  
 
Exactly like all the others. He sighed to himself, and marked the results.
 
Picking up a third syringe, he carefully combined the synthesized compound and a small portion of plasma from the subject.  He tried to use the same ratios he had mixed together in frustration, so he was really just guessing. It almost made him want to cry.

Weeks of research and testing...

Taking a deep breath to calm his slightly shaking hands, he carefully dosed another tissue sample with this mixture.  It slowly healed, regenerating, and then stabilized. Ryu suppressed an exclamation of triumph, and then turned to input the results into the tracking program.
 
The tissue continued to seem healthy and stable.  It was perhaps not as fully healed as with the plasma alone, but closer than any other synthesized sample had gotten.  It worked. Somehow the plasma from the subject and this particular mixture actually stabilized the regeneration. It was almost like the quirk of the original subject.  
 
What was troubling was based on what they currently knew of quirk science, this result should be impossible.  It should disintegrate just like the second sample.
 
He ran over the series of tests in his mind.  Doctor Hikimoto would probably know why he's getting this result.  At least he could talk through it with someone.

This is just -ugh.

He sprang up immediately and turned to go through the door of the lab,  almost causing a collision as the man himself walked in from the hallway.  Ryu staggered back, nearly falling over his chair but was steadied by Hikimoto’s quick reflexes.  Ryu regained his balance and pulled his protective glasses back up to shield his carmel brown eyes, and then stepped back with a flush of embarrassment, “I am so sorry, Doctor Hikimoto. I was about to go get you -”
 
Hikimoto smiled at his young associate, “Do not worry about it, Green-san. What were you in such a rush about?”
 
Ryu flashed a grin, “I got it to work!”
 
“What?!!”  The doctor’s shock was obvious. He had set the young quirk scientist on this task more as a means to keep the Hero Commission happy than expecting any results.
 
Ryu carefully walked the Doctor through each of his samples, and the steps he had taken from the previous week's conclusions.  Eventually, using the last of the plasma available and some new tissue samples, he showed him the new mixture, and it worked again.
 
“Amazing!”  Hikimoto breathed in delight.  “How is this even working? It’s not following what we know about quirks at all.  I need to call Doctor Yamaguchi!”  
 
“I know, right?  This completely blows my conclusions about this quirk out of the water.  So much for that paper. I just need to figure out why! A pity we won't be able to do anything after this sample is exhausted.  It really is fascinating!” Ryu added in, putting the final result into the database.
 
“We are out of the sample from Himura?” Hikimoto seemed to deflate. “We would need to get enough to run the treatment at the very least.”
 
Ryu looked up with curiosity.

Why was that name so familiar?

“Do we have access to more samples? If we had some additional ones, I could probably come up with some actual conclusions.”
 
The Doctor rubbed his eyes with one hand as if pained, he seems to brighten suddenly and turns to Ryu with an overly cheery look, making him nervous, “Of course.  You should call him to request additional samples.”  
 
“Himura?” 
 
“Yes, Himura Kenshin.”  He walks over to his own desk, and collecting a pen and consulting his phone, writes something down.  “Here is his contact information.”
 
Ryu Green briefly wonders

why

the name Himura Kenshin seems so familiar. Must just be a common name.
 
UA High School, Class 1A Classroom

Right before lunch, Wednesday, April 20, 2287
 
“Congratulations, Momo!”  Uraraka beamed at their new class president, her cheeks rosy and her chestnut hair bouncing as she hopped a little in place,  “I’m so excited for you! And you too Iida-san, you’ll do wonderfully as the assistant class president!”
 
“I will strive to live up to my responsibilities!”  Iida announces, standing straight and earnest as usual.  Uraraka cheers, offering her hand for a high-five. It takes a few moments of blinking at said hand, before Iida gently taps it with two fingers.
 
“Thank you Uraraka-san!  I will do my best.” Momo smiles at her friend, then turns as Asui taps her on the shoulder. The frog-like girl nods at their classmates, who are loudly heading out the door.
 
Asui smiles, “Congratulations. You’re making us late for lunch, kero.” Uraraka laughs even as Yaomomo flushes in embarrassment, and together, they join their classmates in the hall. 
 
The corridors were bustling with activity; students of all shapes and sizes, and from all classes pushing their way towards the lunchroom; eager to get some food before classes continued. As the three girls joined Iida and Midoriya at the other side of the hall, a loud alarm sounded.

“Please remain calm.” The tinny voice of the announcement system said, “Do not panic.  There has been a level one breach. Please stay out of corridors and remain where you are.” The large windows on the end of the hallway were covered by a sheet of thick steel that rolled down, blocking the view; and the students began to panic.
 
Bakugou began swearing at the announcement about how they can't both stay out of the hall and remain where they are, his face red and hands sparking.
 
People began to panic and push against each other, trying to get out of the corridor before the doors closed at the end of the hallway.  “Whats going on?!” One kid from the general course yelled.
 
“It must be villains!” another shouted, and that just made everyone panic further. The girls were pushed away from Iida and Midoriya, and continued to get shoved aside as their fellow students rushed towards the doors. Asui grabbed their arms to keep from being separated, and pulled them with her to the wall.
 
“What should we do?” Uraraka clutched at Momo’s arm, and the dark-haired girl swallowed.
 
“Please remain calm.” The announcement continued. 
 
 “I - I don’t know!” she stumbled as some of the other students were pushed into her, causing the other girls to falter as well. As they were about to be swallowed by the crowd once more, a stiff, confident yell came from above.
 
“Stop where you are!” Iida called over the crowd, loudly enough to get everyone’s attention.  “Everyone calm down. Single file line please.” He dropped to the floor when everyone quieted, gently urging people into calm lines and then through the doors, which were helpfully held open by Shoji. With some relief, Momo took her friends hands and they slipped into line with the other students. As soon as everyone was inside the doors closed and locked automatically behind them, the click of the lock echoed in the quiet lunchroom. 
 
Students, reluctantly, began moving into the lunch-line for lack of anything else to do. Murmuring filled the cafeteria, but no one was as loud as they normally were; shaken by the strange situation. Eventually Asui and the other two girls found their way to a table, which was occupied by Midoriya and Iida. Kirishima and Kaminari sat farther down, and they could hear Bakugou snarling somewhere nearby.
 
They sat down with their lunches and Midoriya got right down to business. “Do you guys know what’s going on?” He asked, “I’ve asked around but no one seems to know what it was.” Even as he spoke, the metal covers over the windows lifted from the ground, revealing the campus once more. Some heroes were walking around, clearly looking for something, and the students watched them curiously. “I wonder if they need help?” Izuku continued, chewing absently at his chopstick.
 
“I think it would be irresponsible of us to get involved. This school is run by heroes. We would only be in the way.” Iida lectured, although less severely than normal. Instead of his signature chopping motions, he instead waved his chopsticks for emphasis.
 
“

We’re

going to be heroes!” Uraraka spoke up from her seat next to Momo. “We could help!”
 
Asui tilted her head, her slightly green skin and frog-like features thoughtful, “No, Iida-san is right.  We would only be in the way,

kero

.” She popped a small popcorn shrimp into her mouth. “We just started learning, and we don’t even know what’s really going on.”
 
Iida nodded firmly, “She is correct. We simply do not have the experience to be of any use.” With a large, conceding sigh, Midoriya started shoveling food into his face. Uraraka frowned slightly, but shrugged as she picked at her rice. 
 
Momo sat quietly, watching the heroes with a disappointed look on her face. She picked at her food absently before sighing and turning to her bento. She said nothing about her own thoughts on the matter, glancing back at the hero's outside on the grounds.
 
“Are you ok, Yaoyorozu-san?” Asui asked quietly, startling the tall, dark haired girl. 
 
“Oh...Of course Asui-san.  I am just not hungry right now.” She smiled, trying to reassure her friend.
 
Asui just hummed, and they lapsed into silence,
 joining the rest of the students in quiet worry.
  
UA High School, Staff Meeting Room

1720 (5:20pm), Wednesday, April 20, 2287
 
Nedzu stands on the table, pitching his voice so those in the back can hear him, “I do want to thank the hero commission for offering additional hero presence on patrols around the school.  Also, the police for sending a representative. If you have not met Detective Tsukauchi, please introduce yourself after we are done.”
 
All Might gives Tsukauchi a little wave, and Aizawa and Kenshin both nod to him.
 
“So now that we have gone over what happened yesterday and have heard the plans for additional security at the school, anything to add? Does anyone have any additional options in case of a future breach?  This level of press attention is unusual to say the least, but most of you have been handling it well.” Nedzu continues.  
 
Aizawa grumbles to himself, “Vultures.”  Mic elbows him and gives him a quelling look.
 
Nemuri speaks up, “It might be an opportunity for students that have their provisional licenses to work in short patrols with experienced heros; since we will have an increased hero presence around the school?”
 
There is some murmuring at her suggestion, and Nedzu calls over the commentary, “I will discuss it with the hero commission and the agencies who will be lending us additional support.  Thank you.”
 
Nedzu waits for a short while, and when no additional suggestions are added, he claps his paws together, “Very well.  You all know what your assignments are for the coming week. Please keep me informed. Class 1-A instructors, please wait here so we can finalize the upcoming training.”
 
Aizawa exhales in almost a groan, even more exhausted looking than usual.  Mic elbows him again, getting a grunt in response. Nedzu hops back into his seat from the tabletop while the majority of those attending file out.  Last among the 1st year teachers,
Yagi wanders forward in his small form and takes his place at the main table.  
 
Eventually, Nedzu stands in his chair to get their attention.  “So, we have already discussed most of the plans, and you already know your assigned tasks for the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, and Power Loader has been kind enough to set the zones for this week.”  He nods to the hero in question who nods back.
 
“Thirteen, you already control the USJ rescue scenarios.  Can each of you go over your final plans?”  
 
“Well, I’m going to work with Snipe this time to show the groups that any hero can do rescue work.  We plan to rotate through the groups so all the students get a feel for it. We expect each scenario to take about an hour.”
 
Power Loader speaks up, “I’ve already arranged a way to reset the landslide and ruins areas so each group will get a chance.”
 
Aizawa adds in a droll tone, “I’m sure that someone will get injured before the end, they can always practice rescuing their teammates as well.  I’ll split everyone into groups of 4 once we get into the USJ, and then we’ll rotate through each area. Mock battle in the conflagration zone, water rescues - everything in the outline we provided.”
 
“Good Good, now who will be -”  Nedzu is interrupted as a phone cheerfully starts to play, “Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you doooown…”  and everyone turns to look at All Might, who fumbles with his cell phone, trying to silence it. Mic stifles a snicker.
 
“So sorry!  One….moment..”, Yagi drops the phone; and Nemuri catches it for him.  She quickly silences it and smirks while handing the phone back to him.
 
All might glances at the screen and stands to bow apologetically, “Please forgive me. It is the hero commission.  I must get this…” he quickly steps out, while some of the other teachers mutter, and Nedzu watches him go with a hum. 
 
“Very well.”  Nedzu turns to the other teachers, “So Aizawa, Thirteen, Snipe, All Might...Who else?”
 
Mic raises a hand, “I’ll be there for a short while, but then I have to go cover third year courses.  Nemuri will be helping with those also.  She nods.
 
Thirteen turns to Recovery Girl, “Will you be available to stand by in case of injury?  I don’t anticipate anything, but Aizawa says it may be needed with his more accident prone students.”
 
Aizawa just nods with a sigh, and Recovery Girl smiles, “Of course.  I will finish up about halfway through the day and come right over. In the meantime, if something comes up just call and I’ll be there very quickly.”
 
Kenshin adds, “I can help if needed, but my skills may be better put to use in assisting with security at the main school.  I am available either way - there are no classes for me that day.”
 
Nedzu nods in appreciation.  “Well, I think we’ve pretty much covered everything.”  He quickly flips through the plans for USJ, checking his notes.  “That will be all for today. Thank you all for staying late this evening, so that we can be more prepared in the future for incidents such as today.  I will see you tomorrow!”  
 
With that, most of the teachers stand and begin to file out, and small conversations break out as others gather up their notes.
 
All Might makes his way back inside and bows, “Nedzu-sama, please accept my apologies for the interruption.” He lowers himself into his seat as he continues, “ I will also be at the USJ also, to run some of the combat exercises, but I fear that I will be late.  That call was urgent from the Hero Commission - I can explain further, but they want me to come in first thing in the morning.”
 
“Ah, I see.” Nedzu glances around at those still there, and calls out toward the door, “Himura-san, a moment?”  Aizawa can be seen speeding up and slipping out of the door before he can be called back too.
 
“Of course, Sensei.”  Kenshin pauses and replies, coming back over to the table at the front of the room. “What can I help you with?”
 
“Yagi-san will be late tomorrow, can you take his place at the USJ until he arrives?”
 
“Of course! I will be happy to.” Kenshin beams at them both, obviously pleased to be of use. 
 
Nedzu nods, “Excellent!  I will see you tomorrow then.” He quickly tucks his book into his bag and swings it over his shoulder. Hopping down from his chair, he gives them a nod and quickly leaves the room.
 
Yagi turns to Kenshin, who is still standing, waiting for him.  “Thank you my friend. I should not be more than an hour or so late. I’ve been called in to see Doctor Yamaguchi again.”  Yagi adds, standing to accompany him out.
 
“That’s good news though, right?”  Kenshin asks
 
“I hope so. They say they have a possible treatment.  So it is better than no news at all. I will reserve hope for positive news.”  Yagi smiles at his friend, his eyes reflecting his genuine happiness. They lapse into silence as they walk together on their way out and home.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Kyoto, Japan

0128 (1:28am)  Friday, April 22, 2287
 
It’s early morning, Kenshin knows that much. He’s supposed to teach today, though, and it seems counterproductive to stay up so late. Beside him, Aizawa seems unaffected, or is simply just as tired all the time and thus notices no difference. They’re both in their hero uniforms, standing above a glittering sea of broken glass and stray bills, which is now being carefully collected by a few men and women with blue gloves. In front of them, the focus of their narrowed, suspicious eyes, is a small bank.
 
“This seems familiar,” Aizawa mutters, and Kenshin snorts. Indeed it does; three recent robberies have been committed in very similar ways, and all the places robbed have reported missing security personnel. Aizawa had been first on the scene after the police of the second robbery, and had been the one to link it to the report of the original event.  All were broken into and looted within minutes of the silent alarms going off, and there was no one in the vicinity by the time the police arrived.
 
“There is definitely a connection,” He affirms. “Have the police located any of the missing persons? They could be giving us valuable evidence.” He frowns at the thought. It seems a bit callous, out loud, but he does genuinely wish their safe return. There is simply the undertone; if those people hadn’t been caught in the crossfire, if they had stayed in their offices or in their monitor rooms, they could give valuable testimony.
 
They could be one step closer to capturing this villain.
 
“Mm,” Aizawa grunts, attracting Kenshin’s attention away from the broken glass and the increasing army of personnel with blue gloves and hand brooms. The scruffy man nods over to an approaching officer, and Kenshin smiles wanly at Tsukauchi. 
 
“I don’t think you get to say anything, unless you're having more luck than us?” The Detective greets dryly. “It’s like they disappeared off the face of the planet.”
 
“A quirk,” Aizawa asserts. They look at him askance, and he gestures to the ground. “Besides the initial break in, there’s no sign of struggle. If the security personnel were taken, there would be signs of dragging or a fight. The glass is basically undisturbed.” Kenshin looks down, and, indeed, there is only one set of vaguely defined footprints exiting the building. Much like the other robberies, there is very little sign of struggle past the initial break-in to the property.  Tsukauchi hums, waving one of his junior officers over to take a picture.
 
“Well, it’s the best we’ve got. What kind of quirk, do you think? Teleporter?”
 
“Those are rare, are they not?” Kenshin asserts. “But perhaps. Otherwise…,”
 
“Three sites, three bodies.” Aizawa sighs, a bone-deep exhale of pure exhaustion. “Fuck.”
 
Tsukauchi and Kenshin nod. “Fuck,” Kenshin hums in agreement.

Hero Commission West Offices, Yamaguchi Clinic, Tokyo, Japan,

Friday April 22, 2287, 0630 (6:30am)
 
The cold was what bothered him the most. Well, maybe not the most, but it definitely bothered him.  It wouldn’t hurt for them to keep it a bit warmer in here, would it?  Yagi shifted uncomfortably on the exam table and waited. Again. Seems like he’d been here way too frequently lately.  Stuck at the doctor’s office all the time, and down to mere hours a day of useful time as a hero. He glances at the clock hanging across from him and high on the bland tan walls.  A generic still life painting resided next to it, with a pale purple lily floating on a bowl of water.  He’s sure it’s supposed to be soothing, but irrationally it irritates him.  Why don’t they change the art from time to time, so there is something different to look at?
 
What was going to happen when he couldn’t do this anymore?  Will he have to pick what he does each day until he can barely move from his bed?  Forgotten and alone.  Perhaps Himura-san could suggest a pet or something.
 
What purpose does he have if he can’t be a hero?  How would the world cope without the symbol of peace?  True, he had found a worthy successor in young Midorya, but it would still be years before he reached his full potential.  
 
Yagi could hear the clock ticking as it marks the slowest minutes of the day.  This was another reason he hadn’t gone underground.  The waiting.  The waiting would have killed him.  
 
Would they let him continue to teach even, once he isn’t...once he can’t-.
 
He tries to take a breath and the muscles spasm, causing him to collapse over himself in a coughing fit.  Eventually he can breathe again, and he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth, frowning at the dark red against the pale skin of his thumb.  Should he hope?  What if it's just another dead end? Eventually he slides down to the floor to get a tissue, wiping both his mouth and hand clean.
 
He doesn't have a family, no other real skills.  Would he even be of help to Midoriya when he’s just an old, has-been hero? With a careful, long exhale he sits in the chair next to the exam table instead of climbing up again, and glances at the clock. The ticking is a constant counterpoint to his internal monologue.  How can it feel like he both has too much time on his hands and yet not enough time.  
 
Not enough.
 
His circular introspection is interrupted by a quick knock at the door, and Doctor Yamaguchi himself comes in, followed by Doctor Hikimoto and a young man that he doesn’t recognize.  He stands again as they bob in successive greetings, and Yagaguchi steps forward with a rare smile, “Good Day, Toshinori-san. I am glad you could meet with us so quickly.   We would like to answer any questions you have.  You know Doctor Hikimoto already- “, he gestures to the man in question, who does a little half bow from the place he’s taken across from him against the wall. “And this is Green-san.  He is working on his doctorate currently, and it is his project that has brought us the possible breakthrough in your treatment.”
 
After speaking, he shifts over to his usual rolling chair and sits down, freeing the space in front of him for Green.  The young man in question, looking quite put together and competent, while also somehow appearing nervously excited, bows deeply, “Thank you for the opportunity to help.  It is an honor, Toshinori-sama.”  Yagi briefly wonders where the name “Green” came from.  Seems like the name is more suited to young Izuku - this young man doesn’t appear green at all.
 
“Please,” he says, “I prefer Yagi.”
 
“As you wish then, ah..Yagi-san.” Green stumbles a bit over the name, obviously hesitant to cause seeming offense, despite his anglicized name.  “I think I have found a way to help you heal - and not just to improve your current state, but possibly to regenerate what you have lost as well.  I have been working on this project with Doctor Hikimoto, who tells me it was specifically commissioned to help people like you, with severe, often crippling injuries.”  He flushes a bit, his eyes flicking briefly to the side of the emaciated man in front of him, and then back up to meet his gaze, “It hasn’t been tested on anyone, but if you would agree to the test, I will do my best to get you back to living your full life.”
 
“Not tested?” Toshinori glances over with trepidation at Doctor Yamaguchi, who has been there almost from the very beginning of his troubles.  Both Yamaguchi and Hikimoto nod to him, Yamaguchi smiles in some reassurance and he relaxes subtly.  Yamaguchi wouldn’t have brought him in unless he also believed this would work.  
 
Green shifts nervously, causing Yagi’s attention to return to him, “We have run as many tests as we can without actually trying it with the approval of a patient.  I...We would like that to be you.  I assure you the tissue samples we have done our project testing with have all remained stable.  If you agree, I can provide a schedule that will still allow you to teach, while we work together to bring you back to full health.” He bows again, earnestly.
 
Yagi remains silent for a moment, finally allowing himself the faintest glimmer of hope. If this works, even partially, maybe then he would still be useful.  Maybe then he will still be around to see young Midoriya meet his potential, and guide society into the future of hero work. He looks up, meeting Greens hopeful gaze with his own shadowed stare.  Extending a hand, young Green reaches out and takes it, causing Yagi to smile. He must have some experience with westerners after all.  “Thank you.  You have your test subject then.  When can we start?”
 
Ryu Green graces him with a brilliant grin, lighting up his whole face as he digs into his folder and offers another pre-prepared paper for Toshinori that outlines a sample schedule. “Thank you Yagi-sama!  We can start now!  You wont regret it!”  
 
UA Parking Lot

0931 (9:31am) Friday, April 22, 2287
 
Ochako was so excited she didn’t know what to do with herself.
 
She was in her hero uniform, bouncing along beside the equally excited Deku and the more sedate Iida on their way to the parking lot. Mina and the other girls were a little farther ahead, Bakugou was swearing up a storm somewhere behind them, and she couldn’t be happier. They were doing rescue training! With

Thirteen!

She once again set off her quirk, and Iida didn’t even blink before grabbing her ankle to bring her back down. It had almost become a routine this morning. 
 
Ochako giggles to herself slightly, and then flushes red. She needed to focus! Just because she had a little Hero-Crush on Thirteen (well, a big one, but Miruko was Number One in her heart!) didn’t mean she had to chortle at the very thought of training with them! Ochako was determined to be professional! It was a great opportunity to learn from a skilled hero; not to mention All Might and Aizawa-sensei would be there. She had to be serious, and she had to keep control of herself, even if Thirteen would be

right there.

Deku turns to her nervously when she giggles again, against her will. “Is...Did I do something funny?”
 
“Yes, Uraraka-san!” Iida said, karate-chopping, “I, too, wish to share in your amusement!”
 
“Oh, no! No, Deku, it’s nothing you did!” Ochako said, absently copying Iida’s chopping motion for emphasis. “I just-well, I’m so pumped! We’re going to train with

Thirteen!

They’re one of my all-time favorite heroes!” Deku nodded sagely, likely thinking of All Might, but Iida frowned.
 
“Uraraka, if you cannot be serious around your idol you might be too distracted!” Iida’s glasses slid down his nose as he nodded, making him look like a librarian, or an anime character. “Rescue work can be very dangerous, even with your mind on the task!” 
 
Ochako smiled at him, “I’ll be fine! If Deku can spend all his time fangirling over All Might during Hero Studies, I can fangirl a little over Thirteen!”
 
“Right!” Deku said, then flushed bright red, “I don’t do it

all class.”

“No, you do,” A voice interjects, and they turn. They come face to face with a short man in a dark blue kimono and grey hakama, standing proud with a sword on his hip. His red hair is worn in a high ponytail, which reaches past his shoulders even when up. His violet eyes express his amusement as he smiles, highlighting the severe scar on his cheek, and all at once the three of them realise-
 
“Himura-sensei?” Deku squeaks. It’s loud and shrill enough that the other students, now ahead of them, turn as well. “You - you look so different!”
 
“Very intimidating,” Iida mutters, eyes locked on Himura’s sword. Ochako can’t help but agree with that assessment - in class, Himura-Sensei dresses a bit like her teachers in middle school; professionally, in suits or sweaters with slacks and nice shoes. This is the first time they’ve ever seen him in uniform, she realises. Uraraka, and the rest of the class, obviously know that Himura-sensei is a pro-hero, but they don’t even know what his quirk is!
 
Himura-sensei, for how nice he was, was kinda scary. And

mysterious.

Deku, next to her, makes another noise like a strangled cat, likely itching for his conspiracy notebook.
 
Himura-sensei smiled warmly at them, immediately dissolving the intimidating aura, and rested a hand casually on his sword. “This one believes you will all learn something. Even those of you that don’t plan on going into Rescue. Any and all Heroes should be able to handle a crisis -” Himura-sensei taps his nose with a finger, winking at them, “-especially if you caused it. Watch that quirk, Uraraka-chan.”
 
Ochako’s face burns, and she hides it in her hands, pinkies carefully raised. “Yes, sensei,” she says, meekly.
 
“WHY THE FUCK DOES

HE

GET A SWORD?” They heard. Himura-sensei’s smile grew wider. Heads swiveled to behold Bakugou, hands smoking, dressed in everything except his ridiculous looking grenade-gauntlets. Himura-sensei just shakes his head, taps his nose, and is gone between one blink and the next.
 
“Where...where did he-?” Ochako looks around and Deku immediately takes out his pen to begin writing, (Where did he get a notebook and pen? The gym uniform doesn’t have pockets!) even as Iida begins ushering them all onto the bus.
 
Already aboard, Himura-sensei waves from his seat as they climb in, having never gone through the door.
 
Unforeseen Simulation Joint (USJ), U.A., Japan
 
Izuku is glad he thought to bring his notebook today, because this is evidence he

cannot

ignore. Himura-sensei’s hero uniform is an almost

exact

replica of the original reports on the Battousai from the 1800’s! Izuku stops writing for a moment. Well, that match could be because Himura-sensei would appreciate the historical accuracy. Izuku groans. Inconclusive evidence - it really feels like he’s grasping at straws at this point. Although, his disappearing act, earlier… Izuku believes that Himura-sensei’s quirk is a speed-based one, or something similar. But if he was the Battousai, did quirks begin developing far earlier than everyone believed?
 
Izuku groans again, louder this time, and reluctantly erases his rambling notes. This requires more research.
 
“Are you seriously doing that, here?” Kirishima asks from next to him, apparently oblivious to how that sounds from an outside perspective. Izuku flushes, pulling his notebook closer to him self-consciously.
 
“What about it, I’m just writing!” He defends himself, and Kirishima holds up his hands.
 
“Nah, dude! I’m just saying, I mean, he’s

right there-'' He's

interrupted by the bus stopping abruptly, sending both Izuku and Kirishima into Asui’s shoulder, who doesn’t even blink.
 
“You’re not helping, Kirishima.” Asui says from next to him. “Kero,” she adds. Izuku flushes, thanking her meekly. It seemed like he was weird no matter what school he went to.
 
All at once, students begin getting up from their seats and shuffling towards the door at the front of the bus. With the one-man chorus of Iida’s scolding backing them up, Izuku squeaks yet another apology as he is shoved into Asui again. Kirishima manages to catch himself on one of the hanging straps above their heads.
 
“It’s writing,” Deku defends again. “I’m just interested in quirks!” At this point, it was more to convince himself. Being able to analyze quirks is useful!
 
Kirishima raises his hand again, “I’m just saying you could..ask?” He shrugs and then, “Wait up Bakugou!”  he yells, squeezing into the brief opening ahead of their group to join up with Mina and Kaminari, who are following doggedly behind the fuming Bakugou. 
 
Izuku self-consciously sighs and walks out of the bus and into the building with the others, the notebook having once again disappeared. 
 
As his eyes adjust to the darker interior of the entryway, he steps forward to view the huge indoor environments.  Izuku can’t help but exclaim in excitement.  He isn’t the only one. A rash of commentary about the various zones can be heard from his classmates. The chatter almost drowns out Aizawa telling them to settle down and line up for Thirteen’s orientation speech.

"This place is amazing!"

Izuku gasps internally.
 
Izuku sidles up beside Iida, who is once again pulling Uraraka down to the ground in front of Thirteen. He can’t help but begin mumbling about the premier disaster recovery hero and how amazing this place is and

comparing zones with various past heroic

events and natural disasters-

Behind Thirteen, the training facility opened up into a wide central area, surrounded by different landscapes and environments.  Izuku practically bounces as he tries to catalog it all: Cityscape and landslides, shipwrecks, fires and floods. It’s incredible! Would they even have time to cover it all?
 
Himura-sensei chuckles to himself as he walks by, and moves to the opposite side of the group from Aizawa. Izuku rubs the back of his neck, realizing that both and Uraraka look ready to burst from excitement. 
 
“If you don't shut up, I'll start expelling you one-by-one.” Aizawa grumbles, believed by no one.
 
Eventually attention shifts to Thirteen, who stands in front of the loose crowd of students.  The lights are a bit dim in this section of the entryway, but they still reflect off of the black helmet on Thirteen’s astronaut-like suit. On the faceplate, there are white shapes that move, looking like eyes, and Izuku wonders: did they have a type of hologram technology installed to comfort victims they need rescued? How would you-
 
“Welcome to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint!” they begin, their voice echoing a bit in their helmet. Those eye-like shapes squint like they're smiling. “I have one or two...maybe three things to go over before we get started.  Or four.  Anyway, I created this building to teach you how to handle various disasters!"
 
They hold up a comically small clipboard, which is bright pink and covered in space themed stickers. "I’ll read off your names and we will break into groups to practice in each zone on different types of disaster recovery and rescue work!" They inform them happily.
 
“Tch.” Bakugou says from behind him, causing Izuku to freeze. The explosive boy isn't talking to Izuku, thankfully, but Kaminari. “I’m going to be fighting villains and rising to the top! Not doing any lame

cleanup

work.”

“Oh?”

Came dangerously from the front.
 
 Despite Izuku not being able to see him from this part of the crowd, the disapproval from Himura-sensei is obvious in his voice, “Even if rescue isn’t an area you choose to focus on as a hero, it is still very important to know.  In conjunction with rescue, every hero will at some point be required to help with natural disasters, or cleanup from villains." 
 
Himura-sensei's voice becomes more similar to the lecturing tone he uses in class, "You will need to know how to handle your surroundings without injuring yourself or others. If not for the good of doing such work and helping others, young Bakugou, then for the sake of your ratings. One wrong move during rescue, and you could easily sink your career.”  
 
“Thank you, Himura-san,” Thirteen continues, “Exactly what he said.  If you can’t do rescue, you probably won't make it as a hero.” They wait for a moment, as his classmates continue to murmur. “Please pay attention.” 
 
There is a long pause, and then Thirteen speaks up again, “Ah...Where was I?”
 
“Quirk control in various environments.” Aizawa-sensei replies, slumping forward slightly. His voice gains the tired and exasperated tone that usually colors his interactions with his students. Thirteen perks up.
 
“Really?  Ah, yes.  As I was saying then, being able to use the right aspect of your abilities for any given situation, including rescue work, is very important. I, for example, am a Rescue hero. My quirk is known as ‘Black Hole,' and I can use it to suck up anything, turning it into dust.”
 
Uraraka speaks up almost immediately, hands lifted to her face. Iida, also almost immediately, grabs her shoulder to keep her on the ground. “It's so powerful!  You’ve helped with recovery in situations from tsunamis to earthquakes, not to mention villain attacks!" She sighs, smiling widely, "You’ve been able to rescue so many people!” Izuku was practically vibrating beside her at this point, agreeing with every word.
 
Thirteen raised one hand, showing the tip of the pointer finger on their glove was flipped back. Within, empty space was revealed, and Izuku itched to grab his notebook and ask some probing questions. “That’s true; however, my quirk could very easily be used to kill."
 
The class grows somber very suddenly, where before they were all smiling or giggling about Uraraka and Izuku's fanaticism. Thirteen's voice is stern as they continue. 
 
"Some of you also have dangerous quirks. This is partially why quirks are so stringently regulated in our society, but it can cause us to overlook how dangerous they can be.” They flicked their finger slightly, putting the tip of the it back down and closing their glove. “If I didn’t take the time to assess the situation and use my brain as much as my quirk, it could be disastrous. Please don’t forget that if you lose focus or rush in, your powers could be deadly - even when you’re trying to save someone.”  
 
Thirteen speaks like they know

exactly

what their quirk can do to a person, and, speaking from painful experience, Izuku does, too. Just thinking about what One for All did to

him,

let alone whoever he'd be using it on, made Izuku's stomach churn.
 
Izuku's complete attention was now on Thirteen, and the rest of his classmates were silent. Thirteen straightened, bringing their little pink clipboard to bear. “Due to your training so far, you should have some idea how dangerous your quirks can be when used against other people, and areas where you can improve and use your powers safely. Please keep these lessons in mind when practicing today, where you will focus on using your powers to help others. It is the purpose of being a hero after all!”  
 
Thirteen bowed to the class, “Thank you for listening!  That is all I have to say, and now I'll split you all into groups.”
 
There was scattered applause, and Aizawa was about to step forward when a swirling dark mass began to form on the central floor of the USJ. 
 
The lights dim, a sparking, electrical overload running along them before they flicker back on.  The teachers' attention is immediately drawn behind them, and Izuku stands on his tip-toes to get a good look. There are people in the pavillion below. 
 
Aizawa’s tension is evident, as his exhaustion seems to melt away, “Stay together and don’t move!” He commands, and both he and Himura step more firmly in between them and the growing portal in the courtyard before them.  “Thirteen -”
 
“I’ll protect the students.” They interrupt. Aizawa and Himura seem to communicate something silently, and Himura nods.  
 
“What is that thing?” one his classmates asks, nervously.
 
 “I thought we were practicing rescue - has the exercise already started?” another chimes in. Conversations in a worried tone increase as they slowly move to comply with their teachers orders. 
 
“Don’t be an idiot.” Bakugou growls, “Those are villains!”  
 
Izuku realizes he’s right.  A sea of villains is stepping out of the portal, yelling and waving their weapons.  He steps forward slightly, bringing his fists up almost absent mindedly. “Stay back!”  Himura commands, as a few of his classmates step forward, as well.
 
A new, sinister voice seems to echo around them, commenting on what heroes are in the building and something about the schedule they were given not being accurate. The voice is a man's, deep and raspy, and besides the nature of his tone and the contents of his words, Izuku can tell nothing else about who it is. "

Where is it coming from?"

His eyes dart around.
 
As the dread begins to rise in his throat, realizing their danger, Izuku can’t help but notice the little things that seem to confirm his theory, his mind split in multiple and contradicting directions, like always. Himura-sensei has fallen into a ready stance, and the way he stands brings to mind the stories of old samurai and rurouni, or even anime characters. Beside Eraserhead, whose capture weapon is already floating around him, they look powerful. 
 
More and more villains emerge from the smokey mass, until it eventually coalesces into a single, dark figure surrounded or perhaps composed of black mist. His eyes are glowing slits of yellow smoke, his form swirling in a wind only he seems to feel. Izuku puts the pieces together a moment before Aizawa confirms, “So you used the cover of the media to steal information for this assault.  Why are you here?”  
 
The villain standing beside the mist man speaks, “Why is any character in play?  To kill the boss of course.  Where is All Might?”
 
Izuku can’t help but feel a sharp stab of worry for his mentor.  Where is he?  Wasn’t he going to be here today?  Himura-sensei’s sharp eyes, the typical amusement banished, glance back at Thirteen, “Can you call for backup?”  They nod once and press a hand to the side of their helmet, attempting to radio support. 
 
The apparent leader of the villains continues to monologue in the background, and Izuku’s attention is brought sharply back to him when he says something about killing kids to lure Yagi-sensei into the fight. Aizawa’s hair begins to rise again as his quirk activates, preparing to defend everyone in the class if needed.  This - this sheer evil is what heroes like Aizawa and Himura-sensei must face every day, Izuku realises.

"This is what they we're training for."

“How did so many of them get in?” Izuku can hear behind him, Kirishima sounding concerned. 
 
“And why haven’t the alarms gone off, isn’t this a secure facility?" Momo adds. Izuku turns back as Thirteen answers over their shoulder, still fumbling with something on their wrist and trying to radio for help. 
 
“Himura, it’s not going through. Try the door?” Then, they turn partially to Momo, answering the questioning stares from many of the class with a distracted, “I’m not sure.” 
 
Todoroki speaks up, his heterochromatic eyes as hard as his ice, “They must have someone with a quirk blocking the alarms.  Is the entire campus under attack?”  
 
To Izuku’s own surprise, he chimes in, “It’s possible they're blocking signals too, so we can’t reach help.  That or there might just be no-one able to break away to help us here- This is an organized attack, and they may have their own villains to fight.”  A few students gasp in alarm at his words. 
 
Todoroki eyes him speculatively, but shakes his head, “No. They planned this more carefully.  They intended to infiltrate this isolated facility.  They are fools to attack a school run by heroes, but if All Might isn’t here, what else are they after?”  
 
Izuku blinks and Himura is suddenly at the door, and trying to open it without success, “It’s locked," he calls back to Thirteen, who, with a grim air, turns back to face the stairs down to the courtyard. 
 
“Get them out of here!” Aizawa calls back to the other teachers. His capture weapon rises again, and he pulls his goggles over his eyes. Horror fills Izuku, and despite himself, he speaks out.
 
“You can’t fight them by yourself!” Izuku calls. “There’s too many of them! How can you hope to fight them all if you can only erase one at a time?”
 
“You can’t be a pro with only one trick, kid.” Aizawa responds, crouching. “I’ll leave it to both of you," he says to Thirteen, and then runs to the edge and jumps to meet the oncoming villains, his capture weapon flying around him. 
 
Izuku fights down a moment of panic and gathers himself again.  This is what they are training for, he repeats to himself.  They need to keep their heads.  
 
Himura steps up beside Thirteen, grasping his sword with one hand but not yet drawing it, “Kaminari,” he asks, almost startling the electric young man into sparking, “Can you use your quirk to try to signal the school? See if you can break through the interference?” 
 
Denki nods and does something with his headset at about the same time that Izuku can hear Aizawa engage the villains below.  He inches forward without thinking about it, trying to get a good view.  He’s so amazing!  With just a few shifts of his weight he has captured two villains and slammed them together, before avoiding a blow from behind and striking a fourth attacker, fighting them off with seeming ease. He feels immediately bad for underestimating Aizawa’s skill. He is their homeroom teacher after all, and now he can see it’s with good reason!  
 
Although, there are so many of them...
 
“We’ve got to get out of here! No time for analyzing!” Iida calls to Midoriya, and he realizes the class is already heading back to the door with Thirteen.  Izuku quickly runs after them with Himura-sensei guarding their retreat, only to bunch up when a swirling vortex opens in front of the group, Thirteen sliding to a halt.  
 
The smoke-like villain, the teleporter, rises from his portal and blocks their way, “There is no escape!”
 
They all shift into battle ready stances, what little training they’ve had coming into play as the villain begins to expound on their presence.  “We are the league of Villains. Perhaps it is impolite, but we have decided to invite ourselves into your sanctum of justice to say hello.  And besides, isn’t it a fitting place for All Might, the Symbol of Peace, to take his last breath?”  Izuku gasps as he recognizes the echoing voice as the entity now blocking their path. “Where is he? He was scheduled to be here today and yet there is no sign of him. No matter, we will draw him to us, and the end will be the same.” 
 
The swirling mass seems to expand where the villians arms should be, and Thirteen flips the protective cover from the first finger on their glove, preparing to strike, only to have Bakugou and Kirishima dart ahead on the offensive.  Kacchan attacks the smokey figure before them with a large explosion, his spiky haired classmate only a fraction of a second behind.  
 
Unfortunately, when the smoke clears, he still stands in their way - and

now

he seems annoyed, “Be careful children.”  His glowing yellow eyes narrow, “Someone might get hurt.” 
 
Thirteen steps forward, recognizing when a line has been crossed. “Get out of the way!” They yell as streams of mist fly out in all directions, and suddenly it’s like they’re in the middle of a storm. Izuku staggers back into Tsu, trying to avoid the stream of smoke that flies right in front of him, obscuring the rest of the USJ from view.  
 
“What’s going on?” one of his classmates yells.  
 
The echoing voice surrounds them as much as the smoke, “You have involved yourselves in the fight, and so, I will scatter you to meet your death!”
 
“No!” Himura-sensei yells, at the same time as Izuku realizes he’s losing his grip on the ground.  Izuku feels a hand grasp his ankle as he grabs onto Tsu, and is quickly swept away.
  
Kenshin feels his grip start to slide, the wind billowing around him. He tries to grab on with his other hand, but is left with only the graze of his fingertips across Izuku’s sneaker before he is falling through the air.  He tries to orient himself, and realizes he’s descending from the USJ ceiling to the courtyard where Aizawa is surrounded. 
 
His emotions whiplash from dismay at losing his grip to anger at the situation they’re all in.  Kenshin draws his blade in a flash of metal and shifts his position to lead with his feet. He growls with rage as he descends.  
 
The villain below him looks up just as he lands on their shoulders, driving them into the ground in a cloud of dust.  He ducks smoothly into a roll before the dust clears, and continues forward. Aizawa is looking a little worse for wear, but is still holding his own.  Kenshin runs toward him and slides to his knees to avoid a flick of Aizawa’s capture weapon as it flies over his head and snags another attacker.  
 
Taking the opportunity to hamstring the closest villain, who goes down with a yell, he finally pauses to take stock of his surroundings.  With a jump and flip, he grabs a short, blue villain with a giant hammer and swings him into the path of one that looks a bit like a rhino.  They both go down in a heap, and are quickly knocked out with a kick from Aizawa and a quick strike from Kenshin’s sakabatou to the side of the rhino’s head.  
 
Kenshin meets Aizawa’s bloodshot but relieved gaze briefly, and shifts to stand back to back, facing the dwindling collection of villains in the courtyard. “Are they out?” Aizawa asks quickly, catching his breath.
 
“No," Kenshin grunts, "the teleporter scattered everyone.” He levels his sakabatou at another growling villain, but they don't move closer, for now. 
 
“Fuck," Aizawa swears under his breath, and Kenshin can’t help but snort. 
 
“Language.” They both shift back into action as another few villains take their chances. 
 
“How hard can it be to take out two mediocre NPC’s!” A creepy guy, covered in what looks like human hands, rants from the back.

"Hopefully, very hard,"

Kenshin thinks, swinging his sword harshly and breaking a daring villain's lower leg. As they fall, Kenshin avoids the swipe of claws from a lizard-like attacker, driving his heel into their solar plexus and quickly moving to the center of the courtyard.  
 
Aizawa takes out one covered in some kind of spines, and wraps up another, before a large explosion of water from the Shipwreck zone draws everyone’s attention.  Kenshin almost regrets the distraction as a woman with a trident takes the opportunity to try to stab him.  It grazes his side as he spins to avoid the attack, and she’s quickly knocked out, as well.
 
Unfortunately, he turns just in time to see the hand-covered villain engage with Aizawa, grabbing both his arm and his capture weapon. Within moments, Aizawa strikes again, driving him back, but not before his capture weapon is in tatters and his elbow is crumbling and red, the muscles of his arm exposed.  
 
Kenshin’s eyes flash amber with anger, and he is at Aizawa’s side in moments. He strikes a villain in a gas mask across the side of the knee, sweeping him to the ground and then knocking him out with a second pass of his blade.  Kenshin can tell the pain hasn’t fully hit Eraserhead yet, but his movement is impared. He’s grasping his elbow with one hand and blood begins to run down his arm.  
 
“Don’t you think you’re out of your element, Eraserhead?” The seeming leader adds in a raspy voice. “Your quirk isn’t really suited to fighting against large groups. You’re more prone to stealth attacks. I can tell your strength is failing, yet you continue to fling yourself into the fray.” He tilts his head, his face still hidden behind the grisly hand attached to it.  “But who is your friend? Just another NPC?”
 
Two of the remaining villains attack together, going for Eraserhead’s injured side.  At the same time, one with a morning-star goes for Kenshin.  Meeting the attack, Kenshin slides into a thrust and up into a quick block, knocking the stocky man back and blocking the blow. It leaves his hands ringing for a moment.  
 
They both shift back to ready, but Kenshin anticipates his opponent, and with a flurry of blows disarms him, breaks his arm, and knocks him out. Aizawa has somehow managed to take out the other two villains nearby, and they both catch their breath, turning to face the fuming leader. 
 
“

No

, No,
NO
!  This isn’t what I planned

at all!

” he growls, throwing a tantrum. Then, with dramatic flare, he raises one arm pointing at them in challenge. He mutters to himself, whispering about stats and cheats, like a young child who’s lost a game. Besides these mutters and the groans of the injured villains, there is only the splashing of the waterfront nearby. 
 
The handy-man speaks loudly and suddenly, eyes focused on the waves. “FINE!” his voice drops back to the smokey rasp, “If you won't play fair, then I won't either."
 
Contrary to his thin and malnourished appearance, the young man is gone in blink. Were it not for his centuries of experience, Kenshin would likely have never seen him move. But he does, and his body fills with rage.
 
The villain is going for the children.
 
Eraserhead’s eyes flare to life.
 
Kenshin moves.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Unforeseen Simulation Joint (USJ), U.A., Japan

1053 (1053am) Friday, April 22, 2287
 
Tenya realized, as his classmates disappeared into the smoke, that living with heroes did nothing to prepare you for living

as

one. Tensei always seemed to be in the right place at the right time; but when Tenya was put on the spot, when his classmates were literally disappearing into smoke around him? He could do nothing but watch, try to grab onto some of them as they fell into the villain’s portals. He kept missing!
 
When the smoke was pulled back, Midoriya was gone, and so were many of the others. Tenya stood among the few of his classmates still at the entrance, practically shaking in his boots.

Pathetic.

“Shoji,” He says, attracting his larger classmate’s attention. He has to stay calm. “Can you tell if our classmates are still in the building?”
 
“Yes,” Shoji says. His limbs turn into ears and eyes, and he raises himself to his fullest height. Tenya hopes that he can get something before the villain strikes again. There are several tense moments where they remain silent, barely even a minute.
 
“Anything?” Tenya asks. Sweat drips from his forehead and his hands are clenched in fists. No weakness. Stay calm.
 
“They’re scattered across the facility,” Shoji reports. “But they’re still here.” They all breathe a sigh of relief. 
 
Mina speaks up from beside him. “What should we do? This guy isn’t affected by physical attacks. Also, teleporting. He can teleport stuff.” Her voice cracks anxiously, and Tenya purses his lips. 
 
Thirteen looks over their shoulder, “Class Rep.”
 
Tenya comes to attention immediately, taking the chance to look away from the villain. “Yes?”
 
“You’re Tensei’s brother, right?” They say, “I have a job for you! Run to the school and get the other teachers. The alarms haven’t sounded, and our phones and radios are useless right now. This could be our only chance to get back-up!”
 
“But-” Thirteen wants him to- to run away? “It would be disgraceful to leave you all behind! Can’t we find whoever is jamming the signal?” How can he be a hero if he just runs away?
 
“That would take too long!” They snap, and Satou steps up to grasp his shoulder.
 
“Go, Class Rep!” Sato encourages, “There’s lots of alarms outside- that’s why they’re keeping us trapped!”
 
“Yeah,” Mina says, getting into a battle-ready stance beside Satou. “If you get out, they probably won’t follow. Blow this guy away, Emergency Exit!”
 
Tenya shifts, sweat on his brow. Had they perhaps seen his hesitancy? Were they sending him away to get him out of the fight, before his lack of action hurt someone?
 
“You want to be a hero, right?” Thirteen says, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. “Be a real hero, Iida! Use your Quirk to save others!”
 
His classmates are already stepping up, ready to give him an opening, and Tenya is taken aback. Do they- no. He shakes his head slightly. His classmates are trusting him to save them, to get help. But can he make it?
 
“We got you, Iida!” Uraraka says, “I can help you out, just like we did in the cafeteria!”
 
“Even if this is your only option,” The villain sneers, “Are you really so foolish as to strategize in front of your enemy?!” Smoke comes rushing towards them, long tendrils coming to catch and send them who knows where. Thirteen steps up, lifting a finger.
 
“It won’t matter if you know what we’re planning when I’m done with you!” They yell. The tip of their glove’s finger flicks down, allowing for the devastating power of Black Hole to come forth. They begin sucking up the villain, and Tenya knows this is his shot.
 
Tenya looks back to the villain, to the doors, and his eyes narrow. He

can

do this. He brings his left foot forward. Extending the exhaust pipes from his legs, he gets ready to run for his life. For his classmates’ lives. There’s a brief whine as they start up, and with a brief cry of, “Engine!” He’s off.
 
Distracted as he is by Thirteen, the villain almost doesn’t notice Tenya darting by. He turns, trying to stop him even as Thirteen attempts to suck him up and turn him to dust. “A sheep attempting to escape the wolves,” the man says, “I simply cannot allow that!”
 
“We’re not asking permission!” Thirteen shouts, and opens a second finger. The villain is tugged back, kept from going after Iida for a few more moments, but that is all he needs. 
 
Tenya makes it to the doors just in time for one of the girl’s behind him to scream, “Thirteen!” He’s tempted to turn, to help, but he can’t.

“Be a real hero!”

He runs.
 
Train Station and UA Main Campus

Around 1115 (11:15am) Friday, April 22, 2287
 
It had been a long and eventful morning. Sitting on the train, Toshinori Yagi watched out the window without really seeing what passed, barely noticing the stops as people got on and off around him.  He was emotionally tired and physically sore, but he still couldn’t help the genuine grin that flashed across his face. Young Doctor Green had been most pleasant to work with, and had explained every step of the process as they went. He seemed quite excited at some of the results that had shown even with one treatment, so much so he’d suggested adjusting the schedule for the day to include more than originally planned.  Granted, some of the treatments weren’t pleasant per say, but he had a tiny flame of hope alive again.  Idly, he wondered if this would extend his usefulness as a hero as well, but he had already passed on his quirk, so it likely wouldn’t be long.  
 
Lost in his thoughts, he managed to miss his stop. This resulted in getting off one stop late, and walking along the wall of the school toward the side gate.  He already felt so much better.  It was truly amazing. He could understand now how tempting it would be to overdo it, but Dr. Green had warned him against it. It would be hard not to take advantage of his improved health while it settled. He wondered how much better it would be next week, and then, feeling guilty without reason, thought he should be grateful for what he already had.
 
Taking the deepest breath he’d been able to take in years, Toshinori beamed at the overcast skies. He still ended up coughing, but it didn’t last as long, and there wasn’t blood on his hand.  Amazing! It was a beautiful day!  He was practically bouncing as he walked, enjoying the day and the hope of a future for the first time in years.  He could even take the time to properly train young Midoriya!  Hopefully future treatments would continue to be as effective, and he’d have many years to spend perfecting his son’s techniques.  
 
He paused and flushed. His

student’s

techniques.

His student.

Digging in his pockets for his badge, he finally realized it was still around his neck.  With a sigh to himself he lifted it to the faculty gate, and waited for the click of the fingerprint panel opening.  With a quick scan he was on his way through the gate and heading toward the school. 
 
It wasn’t long after that when he heard the sound of an airplane or jet.  Odd, since they weren’t allowed to fly over the school.  Still in the shade of the trees on the side path, he looked up, trying to identify where the sound was coming from, only to realize it wasn’t a jet at all.  Young Iida was running, surely overclocked, toward the school, at perhaps the fastest speed he’d ever seen him go!  
 
Toshinori took another deep breath, flexed, and shifted forms.  Stepping forward and into the main walkway and out of the shadows, All Might called out, “Why are you in such a hurry, Young Iida?  Isn’t your class training today?”
 
Tenya almost stumbles, but manages to slow himself in time, his engines pinging and whining with the quick reduction in speed and heat. “All Might!  You have to help!  Villains, at the USJ!”
 
“Villains?!” He says, and surely would’ve spit blood if not for this morning. There was no time. “Go warn the other teachers- Nedzu should be in his office, he can get them together quickly. I will go, now run! There’s no time to lose!”
 
Young Iida nodded. There was a brief pop as his overtaxed engines sputtered back to life, but the young man powered through and was off in a flash. Toshinori bent his legs, jumping over the walls and towards the USJ facility. He had to hurry.
 
Unforeseen Simulation Joint (USJ), U.A., Japan

1120 (11:20am) Friday, April 22, 2287
 
Kenshin’s eyes flash amber, and with a single shift of his weight and a challenging growl, he’s moving.

“Makakeru ryu no hirameki!”

he yells. Calling upon years of hard won ability, he dashes almost faster than the eye can follow, easily falling back into that calm, analytical space that makes combat so simple. The world seems to slow; he can feel the sweat dripping down into his eyes, and see the dust still floating in the air from Shigaraki’s approach.  
 
Desperately rushing toward his students, he sees the villain’s hand fall to Tsu-chan’s face. In that moment, he also knows that he’s not going to make it in time.  Despite all of his years of speed and experience, the villain, that

monster

, is going to attack his kids and get there first.
 
The handy-man will regret it.
 
Kenshin’s focus narrows, and he draws his blade back, pushing himself to go faster. For a moment, his wrist twitches and he considers switching his blade. There is a thin line between monsters and men, and although his years in the bakumatsu and other wars have taught him just how thin that line can be, even now, he shouldn’t cross it. 
 
Not yet. 
 
Kenshin smoothly adjusts his weight to slow his forward momentum as he brings his sword around, digging lines into the ground with his feet and throwing up dirt behind him.  He can see Shigaraki’s fingers make full contact with Tsu’s terrified face, and he screams in fury as he swings his sword down on the Villain's arm, meaning to knock his hand away. The man’s forearm shatters under the impact, Kenshin’s rage fueling his strike.
 
There is a thin line between monsters and men, Kenshin reminds himself as the villain stumbles away from them with a cry of pain and anger, clutching at his arm.

And for my students,

he thinks as he flips the sword, the sharpened edge catching the light,

I would be both.

There is no room for mercy, here.
 
Tsu’s face is unmarred, the villain’s quirk having been nulled by Eraser behind him. When the young man sees this, he growls. “You really are so cool, Eraserhead,” he mutters, voice barely acknowledging his pain, standing up straight. His arm now hangs limp at his side. “But could you do that without your friend?”
 
Idly, Kenshin notes the position of the opponents around him, noting those still conscious and those likely no longer a threat.  He flicks his blade back to a ready position. How can they get the children out of here safely?
 
Behind Kenshin, young Midoriya shouts in alarm. He turns, just in time to see a wall of black muscle beside him. There’s a harsh, sudden strike to his abdomen, and Kenshin flies across the courtyard.
 
The other villain! This abomination of a creature, large, muscled and fast - he shouldn’t have dismissed it’s presence when it didn’t attack, because it is attacking now.  It’s bulging eyes and exposed brain give it that much more of a presence; it’s horrific and nauseating to look at.
 
Kenshin collides with the fountain in the center of the courtyard, and he feels two of his ribs crack at the impact. The breath is knocked out of him, and in the second it takes for him to regain his bearings even slightly, the large, birdlike villain has grabbed his arm and pulled him off the ground. He’s left dangling by the arm, still struggling to catch his breath.
 
“So fast,” he gasps, and the handy-man chuckles.
 
“Nomu has been especially crafted to kill All Might. I wonder… can you NPCs keep up?”
 
“Battousai!” Aizawa yells, “Erasing has no effect!” He turns to Tsu and the others who are still standing at the edge of the courtyard, “Get out of here! Move!” He looks around, and grabs a large chunk of cement with his capture weapon. Using it as a counter weight, he turns to get it up to speed and releases it into the air, where it crashes into the space that Tomura’s foot had just been. The young villain had moved just in time, and snarls at the Erasing Hero.
 
Arm hanging uselessly at his side, the young man darts toward the new focus of his ire.
 
Meanwhile, Kenshin’s sword had fallen from his grip as he was thrown, and now rests meters away; between him, the children, and the villains. Young Sero’s eyes, from where he stands beside Midoriya, flick anxiously between him, then to the blade and the young villain near them. Kenshin attempts to make eye contact, even as the bone in his forearm snaps under Nomu's grip. He shakes his head desperately. Midoriya looks like he’s wavering between following instructions and getting out of there when they can, or jumping into the fray.  Sero glances back at Kenshin’s blade.

‘Don’t, young Sero! You’ll never make it!’

Kenshin can feel the air bubble in his throat as he tries to take a breath.
 
The boy looks like he’s going to make a run for it. Kenshin opens his mouth to stop him, when the Nomu seems to get a signal from his master. Kenshin is forced back into the ground, and he can feel the other bones in his arm snap like twigs. His shoulder dislocates and his warning is cut off with an involuntary cry of pain. His body, already having started healing the damage from before, restarts with a jolt. His sword arm, thankfully, hasn’t been touched.
 
Aizawa uses an exposed pipe in the center of the courtyard to loop his capture weapon and yanks sharply, pulling himself around to attack the oncoming Shigaraki with both feet.  Tomura manages to deflect the blow, flicking the hero into a spin. Aizawa tries to recover and Shigaraki is able to get a grip on his capture weapon while the hero lands and shifts into another attack. Eraser’s hair raises too late - as he punches Shigaraki in the shoulder of his broken arm, a portion of his weapon falls to dust before he can nullify the quirk.  
 
The villain shudders and growls ferally, striking out with both hands despite the broken arm and Aizawa swerves to the side, avoiding the strike, continuing to dodge as Shigaraki presses forward.  “Why can’t you stand still!” 
 
“Why can’t you be faster?” Aizawa retorts in a rare fit of pique, and the young man yells wordlessly with rage.
 
The Nomu, seemingly distracted by the fight, stands still over Kenshin, keeping his arm in it’s strong grip. Kenshin can feel his bones snapping back into place already, made all the more painful by the beast’s insistent grasp, but before long his forearm is healed and his shoulder has popped itself back into place. He grits his teeth, running on adrenaline. One of his ribs pops and suddenly it's easier to breathe. Maybe he can slip out of it’s grasp while the thing is distracted. 
 
With a tug, nearly dislocating his shoulder once more, Kenshin manages to pull his arm out of the Nomu’s grip without much issue. He quickly rolls away, on his feet and running towards his sword. There won't be a second chance to do that, and it wouldn’t be long until the villain noticed he’s escaped it’s grip. He has no time to lose.
 
Without hesitation, Kenshin lunges for his sakabatou. With weapon in hand, he whips his head around, trying to find the kids now that they’ve moved. There! Closer to the stairs but still by the water. Kenshin, seemingly between one blink and the next, comes to a stop beside them.
 
“Why haven’t you left, yet?!” He demands, startling them. Sero-kun flings himself around, covering his classmates' backs, and blinks when he sees Kenshin. 
 
“Himura-sensei?!” He yelps. “You’re okay!”
 
“Yes, yes!” Kenshin says impatiently, pushing them towards the stairs and keeping an ear on the fight between Eraser and handy-man. “You need to go! These villains are not to be trifled with!”
 
“But what about-” Midoriya starts, and Kenshin silences him with a hard glare.

“Now.”

They turn to run up the stairs, and Kenshin turns back to the fight in time to see Eraserhead gripped by the elbow as he blocks an attack from the villian youth.  Eraser grunts as his elbow begins to disintegrate and he quickly brings his fist up and punches the villain in the face. With a yelp, the boy wheels backwards, and Eraser takes a moment to catch his breath.
 
Kenshin begins to run forward as he hears one of the kids slip on the stairs, drawing attention to their escape.
 
“What!” Shigaraki objects, “You won’t get away.  I’ve had this planned for ages.  Where is All Might?  Why isn’t he here protecting all of you NPCs?” His gaze swings back from the kids to the Nomu, which reacts to his “Get them!” by running for Eraserhead, who is grasping his cracked and bleeding arm.
 
Kenshin rushes to intervene, moving before his mind can catch up.  He leaps over a downed villain and strikes overhand with his blade, only to have his strike blocked as the creature moves faster then he expects.  The block is followed by a fist to his side, and he can feel his ribs crack again as the breath is driven from him.  He slides back, shifting into a ready stance as he sees Aizawa recover in the background. He coughs, and wipes the blood from his mouth.
 
The handy man is laughing now, something about impossible odds. 
 
The capture weapon doesn’t seem to catch the creature by surprise as it wraps around the bird like head, but it does at least cause it to pause for a moment.  Unfortunately, Aizawa is pulled toward the Nomu, rather than the other way around.  Kenshin watches helplessly as Aizawa is yanked forward and then struck away like a paddle-ball with a broken string, skidding along the ground. 
 
Across the courtyard from Kenshin, the redheaded man can’t step in to see if he’s alright. Thankfully, Aizawa shifts from where he lays on the ground, and pushes himself up with one hand. Still alive.

‘We just need to keep it occupied until the students are out.’

He thinks to himself. It’s his only comfort, right now. 
 
Yelling to attract the Nomu’s attention, Kenshin flips his sakabatou. “OI!” He shouts, putting all his years of British rage into it. “Forgetting me?”
 
“How are you still standing?” Handy-man growls. “Nomu!” The beast darts towards Kenshin, but this time Kenshin is prepared for his speed. He races to meet it with a growl, eyes flashing, and at the last moment uses his forward momentum to flip over it’s head, slicing smoothly through the shoulder of the beast, and lands behind it, sword and arm extended with the followthrough.

The spray of blood is shorter than he expected, and even as it’s arm falls to the ground it does not scream. There is surprisingly little reaction from the Nomu itself, besides a short growl. 
 
With some horror, Kenshin watches as the arm heals and begins to re-grow before his eyes, a twisted, faster reflection of his own ability.  The handyman laughs in triumph. “You see!  Nothing can defeat Master’s Nomu!  We will bring you and all heroes to their knees!”
 
Kenshin grasps the hilt of his sword tightly; meeting Aizawa’s determined bloodshot gaze, he nods, before darting forward to distract the Nomu as Eraserhead attacks from behind. He might not be able to stop this thing, but they can slow it down!  He manages to deflect a strike from the impossibly fast monster, and twists to slice it across the front. Despite the gash now in it’s remaining full arm and chest, it does not falter much, still pressing it’s frantic assault.
 
Aizawa swings above it and kicks it in the head, coming down with both feet for maximum impact. It causes only a momentary pause before it has somehow grasped him by the foot and flung him again into the partially destroyed fountain, halfway across the court. Behind him, his capture weapon flutters, partially extended, like a macabre streamer. It slowly settles to the ground atop the debris around him.
 
Ducking, Kenshin avoids the next two strikes and manages to get a thrust and a block in before the beast catches him with a strike to his shoulder. The bone cracks and his entire arm goes numb, causing him to drop his sword. Without pause Kenshin ducks and rolls, managing to come up with his blade in his off hand. Slicing off a chunk off it’s lower leg as it strikes out at him again, he just barely manages to slip past a second blow.

‘It just won’t stop!’

Kenshin grimaces, rolling his shoulder despite the painful grinding, hoping that the bone hasn’t lodged itself somewhere particularly unpleasant. He bobs and weaves, waiting for the feeling to return to his hand as he tries to avoid each attack. In the ages before his fingers feel his grip again, he can no longer see any of the wounds he has caused. 
 
Kenshin realises in this moment, he might actually die here. Wouldn’t that be insulting.
 
“Nomu, finish it!” The other villain yells maniacally.  A swirl of smoke is starting to form beside him.  
 
Kenshin quickly strikes again, pressing himself faster to meet the increasing speed of the blows against him, a nick here, a cut there, anything to slow this thing down. ‘

Did the students make it out?’

He shifts low, trying to hamstring it at least, and suddenly there is smoke in the way, his blade entering the darkness.  With burning realization he feels the blade slide against his own leg.  He withdraws the strike but he’s already down on that knee, still trying to block the next blow, but barely diverting the force.  He rolls to the side as the ground is cracked beside him, trying to roll up enough to at least get a good strike in.  He swings again, but it heals almost as fast as he can attack it, and with one missed block his blade is knocked from his grasp.  With the next blow he’s driven into the ground, and he can hear his bones break again with the impact, his arm now at the wrong angle to his body. 
 
The Nomu, now without an adversary, takes no time before dragging him up by his hair and smashing him back into the ground. Besides the vice-like grip on his head, it’s weight is now squarely on his legs and back, which don’t last long under the pressure. He’s slammed into the ground again and with a

snap, crack, pop

, he’s completely out of commission. Blackness creeps at the edges of his vision.
 
“Himura!” He hears faintly. Kenshin’s ears are ringing.
 
Between overwhelming waves of agony, Kenshin feels the floor shake. Something nearby has hit the ground, followed by a splintering sound and a cry of pain.  He feels oddly separated from himself. Was that him? The Nomu? Aizawa? He groans attempting to move even as his body sluggishly, painfully, puts itself back together. He’s fading in and out of consciousness, all he can taste is iron, and the grit of dirt in his mouth. 
 
His arm is jolted by something, maybe a rock? A kick? Either way, it sends him into another cascade of excruciating pain. Kenshin barely stifles another groan, gritting his teeth as the tortuous agony is followed by another few moments of blackness.

‘Get up!’

He screams at himself. He doesn’t move.
 
The echoing voice is back. “Tomura Shigaraki,” the voice greets handy-man.  Kenshin can feel himself bleeding, growing weaker, and wills himself to heal faster. His body, once again, does not oblige.
 
“Kurogiri. Did you... kill Thirteen?” The villain hisses.
 
“They are out of commission...one of the students made it outside.  They...called for reinforcements. We should...” The echo voice responds, but Kenshin’s ears are still ringing and he misses most of it. It’s so hard to think... 
 
“After all this, denied the final boss.” Shigaraki rasps, anger and pain making his voice even rougher, “...suffer for this!  NOMU!  Take them out of play!”
 
“No,” Kenshin rasps. 
 
It all goes black.
 
Unforeseen Simulation Joint (USJ), U.A., Japan

1129 (11:29am) Friday, April 22, 2287
 
It’s been ten minutes.

Ten minutes.

Tenya watches as his classmates run frantically out of the doors and into the waiting arms of medical personnel. He watches as the teachers round up the straggling villains, and Aizawa-sensei hobbles out and slowly down the stairs, arms hanging uselessly at his sides. Blood drips down his right arm and his face is bruised and bleeding. Tenya has a knot in his throat and he wants to cry.
 
Ten minutes.

He wasn’t fast enough.

“Iida-kun?” Someone says. A hand rests itself gently on his arm, and it takes everything he has not to flinch. Uraraka is beside him, eyes wide and brimming with tears. She smiles weakly, “Are you alright?”
 
“I should be asking you that,” He says. He spots a shock blanket on the back of a nearby ambulance. Since no one is using it, he grabs it, carefully draping it over Uraraka’s shoulders. She takes it without complaint, pulling it a little tighter and holding it closed with one hand.
 
“I’ve been better,” she giggles weakly. The sniffs, and a tear runs down her face. “Thank you so much, Iida-kun,” She warbles. “If you hadn’t gone for the teachers I don’t know what would have happened. All Might really got here just in time.”
 
“I wasn’t fast enough,” He disputes. “If I had gone just a little faster-”
 
She reaches out, interrupting him by pulling him by the waist into a one-armed hug. “You were faster than I’ve ever seen you. Without you, we’d be dead!”
 
Iida looks down at his small classmate, who glares back up at him from underneath his arm. There are still tears streaming down her face, but her expression is determined. Uraraka pokes him in the chest with her free hand. “Don’t talk about my friend like that,” She sniffs, and buries her face in his armor. Hesitantly, he rests a hand on her head.
 
A commotion by the doors attracts their attention. Midnight-sensei is herding people out of the way, and behind her, Cementoss and Present Mic carry a stretcher. On top, a figure is obscured by a white sheet, which is rapidly becoming red.
 
Tenya freezes. Someone...someone

died?

“Midnight!” A reporter shouts. “Midnight, who was killed?!”
 
“Not now,” She snaps, most unlike her, and Tenya suddenly comes to a realisation. All of his classmates were accounted for, and Aizawa, while injured, had walked out on his own. Thirteen had also come out on a stretcher, but they had still had the strength to wave off Asui as she was carted away. The only one left...
 
“Himura-sensei?” He croaked. Snipe, behind the morbid parade of teachers, came out of the building. He was carrying a sword.
 
“No!” Midoriya breathed from behind them, tears already streaming down his face.

I wasn’t fast enough.

Tenya feels his lip wobble, and that knot grows tighter, he squeezes his eyes shut against the sting of tears.

I
 failed.

‘What am I going to tell Tensei?’

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 24: Call an Ambulance, Come rescue me

1215 (12:15pm) Friday, April 22, 2287

Hosu, Japan
 
Tensei had been having a pretty good day, all things considered. Patrol had been quiet, and besides a few petty-thefts, which the police could easily handle without his help, there hadn’t been much going on in his area. His watch had beeped after a few hours, marking the end of his patrol shift, and he’d ran back to the Idaten Agency to put up his armor and head to his parents’ house for dinner. Er, to steal dinner from his parent’s fridge- he hadn’t gone shopping in...a month.
 
He’d left his phone, for I’m-on-my-fifth-one-this-year reasons, with his clothes in his locker. This was why, after he’d put up his suit and changed into civilian clothes, he was surprised to find almost thirty missed calls. From UA, Tenya, and his parents...Tensei called UA back first- whatever it was, they wouldn’t call him for anything less than his brother being hurt.

“Hello, UA High School. How can I help you today?” The woman on the other line said. She didn’t sound like Nemuri, who was the only woman he knew on staff, so she was probably just a secretary for Nedzu. 
 
“Hey,” Tensei said awkwardly. He hated phone-calls. “I have, like, three missed calls from UA and my brother- ah. I’m Iida Tenya’s older brother; his emergency contact.”
 
“I see!” She said cheerfully. “One moment, let me verify your voice identification.” For the longest 30 seconds of his life, Tensei listened to snippets of radio, before the line clicked back to the secretary, “I’m afraid there was an attack on the school this afternoon.” She continued before Tensei could interject, “Don’t worry, your brother is fine- we simply called to ask that you pick him up from school. Your parents were unavailable for several more hours, at the time of the incident.”
 
“Uh, they’re in Yokohama…” He said. “I’ll be there in-” Tensei glances at the clock. Rush hour hasn’t started. “-twenty minutes. Are you sure he’s alright?”
 
“Oh, he’s fine! None of the students were badly injured.” She says brightly. “We’ll be expecting you soon!”
 
Although unsure what to ask, Tensei is still surprised when she hangs up. He’s worried about his brother; who attacked the school? Was Tenya involved in any way? 
 
Wait. None of the

students.

What about the

teachers?

USJ, UA; Enroute to Yamaguchi Hospital, Emergency Ward

Friday, April 22, 2287
 
Although used to all sorts of calls as an Emergency Medical Technician, Kaito always hated calls to UA. If they were being called out to the school, it always was for something that couldn’t be fixed by Recovery Girl. Unfortunately, that usually meant it was an especially bad quirk related accident. This time, it was worse than usual. 
 
When they had pulled into the school there was smoke rising from a hole in the top of the USJ building. They arrived just as another ambulance was leaving sirens blaring and lights already running. There were still people milling about, or standing in clumps, just staring in shock or horrified silence at the damaged building. 
 
Whatever had been going on in the USJ, it must have been bad, because a police transport arrived just as they unloaded their stretcher. Kaito and his partner brought it up to the doors, where it was collected by some of the rescue heroes, as usual. While they waited, they handed out some shock blankets, then Kaito and his partner rushed back over to meet the heroes who were bringing out a man on the stretcher.
 
While the heroes were trained to find people during villain attacks, something Kaito and his colleagues couldn’t do, they weren’t truly trained like a proper EMT. This was all the more obvious when Kaito first saw the hero they’d dragged out. The man on the stretcher was bleeding from somewhere, practically

everywhere,

and a red stain was growing slowly over the white sheet he’d been hastily draped in, to keep his injuries from the children. 
 
Intrusively, Kaito wondered why the man was wearing traditional garb before dismissing it as unimportant. A hero thing, and not his concern, here.
 
The hero’s breathing was very shallow, almost non-existent, and at first Kaito thought the patient might be dead. Just to check, Kaito placed a palm on the man’s forehead. Kaito could tell he still had brain activity, using his quirk, and he immediately did his best to find and stop the bleeding- better keep it that way.
 
Carefully, but as quickly as they could without hurting him more, Kaito and his partner pulled the patient into the ambulance and hooked him up to their more accurate equipment. His stats were erratic- he’d lost too much blood between injury, transport, and getting into the ambulance. If Kaito hadn’t stopped most of the bleeding the minute they’d gotten to him, he’d already be dead.
 
As it was, the heart monitor only had a moment to begin shrieking before Kaito managed to restart the hero’s heart with a jolt of his quirk. His heart was beating again, but he wasn’t out of the woods. His breathing was still too shallow, and there were so many injuries it was hard to tell where the rest of the bleeding was coming from. He could tell from experience, this one probably wouldn’t make it to the hospital unless he could get him stabilized. 
 
The floor of the vehicle vibrated as the engine started again, and he felt them pull away from the building. As always, his partner drove like a madman, and Kaito gripped the side of the gurney, which was secured to the wall of the ambulance, as they went around a particularly sharp corner. Using his free hand, he flipped on the other monitors, and placed an oxygen mask over the mans’ face. He confirmed his oxygen levels were rising, assured that if he had a lung injury, it wasn’t more vital than the external bleeding, and moved on.
 
Kaito checked the saline IV, and was startled when he heard a distinct

crack,

and then a popping sound. Glancing down, he realised the man suddenly seemed to be breathing a little easier. Not a spontaneous break, then, he’d seen them before in mutation quirks. He looked up at the screen and noticed the blood/oxygen had also picked up to better levels. Soon, he could remove the mask, then. Blood pressure was still bad though...where was he still bleeding?  He systematically started checking for injuries he must have missed. Maybe, they could save this one, after all. 
 
A few hectic minutes later, and the hero was finally stable.  The steady beeping a comforting background noise, Kaito took a moment to strap himself back in, and close his eyes, taking a deep breath.  
 
Only to be shocked with adrenaline again a few moments later, when the heart monitor

stopped.

There was no shrieking, but his eyes flipped open and he reached to release his seatbelt. He looked up to try and see what had gone wrong, when he saw that the

very injured man

had somehow propped himself up on one elbow, less injured arm stretched out, to turn the noisy monitor completely off.
 
“Ten more minutes,” The man said clearly, before collapsing back onto the gurney.

Hero Commission West Offices, Yamaguchi Clinic, Tokyo, Japan,

Friday, April 22, 2287, 12:28pm
 
The least favorite part of Dr. Tadashi Hikimoto’s day was the summary reports to the Hero Commission.  As his employer, though, he really had no room for negotiation on that front. The report was bland, as always, and he kept the more personal information of his patients confidential; personal names, the titles of their quirks, etc. Outside of his research, he had decided

long

ago, the Hero Commission didn’t need to know. Hikimoto took a moment to pull some things out of thin air, loosely describing the progress he’s made with Yagi-san, and signs his name at the bottom. He presses send on the email, and spinning in his chair, notices that Dr. Green is still in the lab, for some reason.

Hmm.

Tadashi looked up at the clock, which read a little after noon. “Do you want to get lunch?” He asked, but all he got was a, “Hmm,” in response. Ryu didn’t even look up from his tablet. 
 
In as dry a tone as he can muster, Doctor Hikimoto continues, knowing Green isn’t paying attention. “You’re right. I

should

quit medicine, and follow my dream of being a Present Mic impersonator. I could work birthdays.” 
 
“Sorry, what?  I missed that.” Green finally says, blinking owlishly at his coworker, and flushing slightly. Tadashi grins, leaning back in his chair. Ryu was a riot, some days.
 
“Lunch.” He repeated, “Do you want to swing by that Ramen place with me? They have Katsu today.”
 
Green glances at the clock as well, and opens his mouth to answer, when Hikimoto’s phone goes off with the emergency alert from the hospital. The system they’d set up a few years ago allowed everyone with a keycard to call and find specific people in the hospital, as long as they also had theirs. It was efficient, useful, but Tadashi still thought it was a little creepy. Hikimoto sighs, and flipping his phone’s case open, reads the screen.

‘Dr. Hikimoto required in the East Wing by Dr. Yamaguchi. Person of Interest, Emergency Room.’

It reads, and Tadashi sighs. So much for lunch.
 
 “Hmm, might have to grab something to go. There’s an alert that one of our persons of interest on a Commission project is in the ER. If they’re calling me, it’s...probably serious.”
 
Green winces, glancing mournfully at the clock again. It was really just their luck, these days. “That means my shift will go long tonight.” He groans, “Yeah, let’s swing by that place on the way and grab food to go. I have to go in for clinical hours soon anyway.”
 
They pack up their stuff, and shut down equipment that can’t run without supervision. Then, they head out into the pristine hallways of the Yamaguchi Hospital Complex. It’s a sprawling building, really it’s

buildings,

connected by bridges and courtyards. Cutting through one such courtyard, which has a lone bench and small tree for shade, they’re able to reach the nearest set of exterior doors quickly. The doors slide open at the flash of Hikimoto’s badge, but before they can exit into the summer heat, his phone alert goes off again. It is followed soon after, by Green’s phone echoing the tone.
 
“Damn, it must be something serious if they’re calling

everyone

in.” Ryu sighs, pulling out his phone, as well.

‘Emergency Alert level 2, Immediate call to ER ward. Report to Yamaguchi within 30 minutes.’

blinks up at him from the screen. 
 
“I’ve got a 30 minute window,” Ryu says, looking back up at the sullen man beside him, “what about you?”
 
“10.” Hikimoto replies, frowning. He presses one hand to his stomach absently, obviously trying to figure out when he’s going to have a chance to eat, if this is an emergency situation. Heroes, Tadashi’s main patients, always have the messiest accidents.
 
Ryu pats him on the arm, hoping they’ll still be hungry after this. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll grab food for both of us, and find you there. Shouldn’t take me too long to find something in the cafeteria.”
 
Hikimoto’s face lights up, “Thanks Green, you’re a lifesaver.”
  
Ten minutes later, Doctor Hikimoto deftly avoids the chaos as he comes through the employee door and into the emergency room.  Stepping aside, he leans against the plain, eggshell-white walls, as a stretcher is rushed inside and past him. Turning back to the sliding door of the ambulance bay, which has opened again, he is startled to recognize the Pro-Hero Present Mic, supporting a limping, dark haired man with visible injuries. He must be another hero, although Hikimoto can’t place him. 
 
They are quickly attended and directed to follow the stretcher, which is turning the corner into the secure ward, out of sight.  
 
Stepping around a nurse, Tadashi slips in behind the desk, and swipes his card. The terminal monitor lights up and directs him to Dr. Yamaguchi in room 103.

‘Thank you for your prompt arrival, Doctor Tadashi Hikimoto.

’ It also reads, going blank with a pleasant chime.

“Thank you.”

He thinks, only a little sarcastically. At least he won’t need to do that presentation to the board, since he’ll miss the meeting this afternoon.  
 
Striding over to the secure section, he swipes his badge to go through the double doors. In the quiet echoey hallway, the click of his shoes seems particularly loud. The bright overhead lights make the hallways seem all the more empty, and add to the familiar, bland sterility. He hurries to, and knocks on the door of room 103. The door opens slightly as he does so, having never been closed all the way, and he can hear Doctor Yamaguchi’s voice from behind the curtain. 
 
“...I’ll be right next door if you need anything,” Yamaguchi informs the patient inside, “and the Nurse, Tsumi, will be back soon with the scanning equipment.” Yamaguchi pulls the curtain aside, revealing Present Mic and the man that Tadashi had seen with him earlier, before stepping past it and pulling it shut. He meets Hikimoto at the door, and they close it behind them. 
 
Without so much as a glance, the pompous arse, Yamaguchi walks to the next room. Tadashi rushes after him.
 
“Doctor Yamaguchi, I was called in to assist?  What do you want me to help with?” Tadashi asks as he quickly follows Yamaguchi down the hall. Hikimoto almost feels bad for the asshole. He looks tired and tense, it must be a busy day in the ER.
 
“I could use your assistance with Hero Thirteen - seems they were hit with their

own quirk,

somehow.” They’ve fallen into step together when Hikimoto is forced to yield, stepping back to avoid getting stuck in the doorway of the next room. Yamaguchi continues through, without pausing.  He can hear the beep of monitoring equipment, and a nurse runs out past them on some errand. He knows they must be stable, at least, or they wouldn’t be in a regular treatment room.
 
“Of course.” He replies to Yamaguchi. Thirteen, Thirteen….the Rescue Hero?  What was… ”What is their quirk?” Tadashi continues out loud, right before Yamaguchi reaches up to pull aside the curtain. 
 
It’s kind of horrifying.
 
“Black hole.” Yamaguchi replies, as if it’s obvious, “they were

lucky

that Recovery Girl was on the scene,” and Hikimoto, not for the first time, wants to punch him in the face.

Yamaguchi Hospital, Tokyo, Japan

Friday April 22, 2287,  12:56pm
 
There were quite a few contacts, Dabi had learned, that were under the mistaken impression that the best time to raid a hospital was at night.
 
It wasn’t necessarily a

bad

time, but the real way to get what you needed was just to watch and wait for the best opportunity, and in the meantime, learn how to act like you belonged. People, especially civilians in general, tended not to question you if you walked with purpose and like you had somewhere to be. Dabi didn’t hesitate, didn’t hide when people walked by; today, he was, at a glance, Dr. Tanaka: an everyday lab-tech or pharmacist on his way to somewhere important. 
 
As a wave of EMTs, doctors, and heroes flooded the Emergency Room, he slipped into the hospital, and out of the chaos without a backward glance. He didn’t have the time to find out what was going on, nor did he really care; all he cared about was the Pharmacy across the bottom floor, and how to get there, fastest.
 
Besides, he had been out of painkillers and medical staples for days, and he didn’t think he could wait much longer.
 
With his medical coat, silk mask, and forged badge, he looked official enough that people left him alone. Dabi strode confidently to the ‘Staff Only’ door, slipping in behind a rushing nurse.  He quickly changed direction down the next hallway, and then again, pausing for a moment in an open office to check his internal map and pick up a notebook. From prior visits, he had learned he was less likely to get stopped if he had something in his hands. He should be able to get into the Pharmacy, without any additional security doors, if he goes past the lab and cuts through Pediatric- people are constantly popping in and out through there, and he should be able to slip in behind someone, again.
 
Ten minutes of walking and a short detour later, he is nearly at the doors when he sees someone who definitely shouldn’t be there, and he isn’t talking about himself. In front of the doors, loitering around in a hospital gown and pants that

clearly

weren’t hers, originally, given the size, is a small teenager with blond hair. From where he is in the hall, a little further down, he can’t make out much besides the fact that she is much shorter than him and not much older than his-

Touya’s

younger brother.
 
“Hey,” Dabi says, and she turns to him, startled. He’s closer now, and he can see her face is flushed with something like fever, and her eyes are bright gold. “What are you up to, kid?” Dabi doesn’t have any room to talk, but an actual doctor, what he’s pretending to be right now, wouldn’t let some kid just wander around the protected wards of the hospital with no explanation.
 
“I-” She glances at the doors, then at his coat. “It’s nothing.” But she’s shaking, and shuffling, and Dabi really doesn’t think it’s nothing. Maybe she’s a druggie? This isn’t the right place for the drugs, that’s through this hall and past the lab, where he’s going. These are the doors to Radiology, which, if it isn’t in use, is a very good shortcut to the medical equipment, like the staples he needs. And the bloodbank, but that's not his concern.
 
“Uh, look, kid,” He honestly stopped caring what she was doing not long after he asked. “If you’re looking for the drugs, you’re at the wrong door. This is radiology.”
 
“I can

read

,” She says indignantly, but glances at the sign. “But… I heard one of the other doctors say this leads to the blood.”
 
“...The blood?” He asks, but he can already feel the pieces falling into place. She looks about the age when the worst quirk side-effects appear, maybe twelve, thirteen? She may be older, but if her quirk involves blood

at all,

and she’s asked for it before, because she

needs

it to survive, there are plenty of doctors who wouldn’t give it to her because that's the kind of thing

Villains

ask for.
 
Quirk discrimination at it’s finest. What the fuck would Dabi do with blood? At least it explains the shaking.
 
He isn’t sure why exactly he decides to help- maybe it’s because of his bleeding heart (may the fucker bleed

out

someday), or maybe it’s because there was a time when someone told him his quirk was too

heroic

for him to have the side effects he was claiming to; nevermind his horrific burns. Regardless, there was a kid here who, at maximum, would take up a few minutes of his time; especially since he needed to go through, anyway, to get those fucking staples.
 
He sighs. Besides, if she gets caught, the police will be on this place and he won’t have (moderately) easy access to the drugs he needs. Dabi steps up beside her, and looking the kid in her skittish, frightened eyes, uses his stolen keycode to unlock the doors.
 
“W-what?” She says, “But aren’t you a doctor? Aren’t you supposed to be

mad

at me?”
 
“I’m no doctor, kid,” He says, “But shut up. As far as anyone else is concerned, you’re my patient and I’m taking you to one of the fucking gardens, or something, to relax. Anyone comes up to us, just….smile vacantly, or something. No one bothers the crazies.”
 
She pauses, but when he holds the door open for her, she hesitantly steps through. “I can do that.” She decides, and a brief alliance is formed.

Yamaguchi Hospital, ER break-room and secure ward, Tokyo, Japan,

Friday, April 22, 2287, 1:12pm
 
The container of ramen is hot against Ryu’s fingers. In front of him, small shelves are separated into little cubbies, assigned to the doctors and such currently on shift to hold their belongings and food. He skims the names, and putting in the temp-code Tadashi always uses, Ryu gladly drops off Tadashi’s food in his cubby and closes the door. It locks again and a light comes on, signaling that Hikimoto’s been notified that someone opened his cubby.
 
Mission complete and vending machine coffee in hand, Ryu heads out of the break-room and down the hall toward the main entrance. He needs to check in and get to the ER, soon, now that they need his help. Whatever it is, hopefully something less serious than it seems, Ryu won’t complain. He’s really quite pleased to have been accepted onto the research project he’s on, and the opportunity to work so closely with both Doctor Hikimoto and Doctor Yamaguchi himself. Once his residency is complete and his time at the hospital is done, he can fully dedicate himself to his specialization, Quirk research and health- the research, because for some reason, they still don’t know much about quirks at all.
 
There is no-one at the desk as he steps behind the counter to check in, so everyone must be busier than he thought. Ryu sighs and scans his badge, the terminal screen lighting up to welcome him to what will likely be a nightmare shift. Another doctor steps into the area through the staff door, talking to one of the nurses as the terminal’s screen goes from

‘validating’

to

‘instructions’

.
 
The nurse nods and heads toward the secure ward, and Ryu recognizes Doctor Emoto when he turns around, giving him a nod before looking back down at the screen.

‘Wait for an incoming ambulance,'

it reads,

‘Assisting Doctor Shiro Emoto. Patient assigned to room 102.’

The screen goes dark and just as he looks back up to ask Emoto what exactly he needs help with, the ambulance they’re expecting pulls into the bay. The EMT in the back quickly opens the rear doors and begins lifting the patient out of the vehicle with the driver’s help. The one from the back accompanies the stretcher inside, and the driver goes to move the ambulance out of the way of other cars.
 
Both Emoto, on the other side of the desk, and Green, still by the computer, step into action as the main doors slide open and the patient is wheeled in.
 
“He was in critical condition when we got him,” The man says, pushing the stretcher where Emoto leads and talking directly to Ryu. “He woke up briefly- turned off his heart monitor, I think he thought it was an alarm clock. Whatever his quirk is, it’s healing him rapidly-too rapidly. I got to what injuries I could, but make sure they healed right.”
 
“We got him,” Green assures, and the EMT nods.
 
Green is surprised at first glance that the patient looks so familiar - must be because he’s a hero, although he hasn’t heard of many with self-healing quirks. The EMT continues to brief them - blood pressure, pulse, temperature, length of the trip, known cause of injuries and the rest as they turn the stretcher to pull it through the doorway of 102, and then the EMT switches the monitors to the hospital room.  
 
Leaning over, Green takes a quick glance at the man’s badge, which reads ‘EMT - HAKAME TETSU’ in large blocky letters. He takes note of it, knowing he will inevitably have to throw this man into a pile of NDAs, before looking back to the monitors surrounding them. Even though they’ve done nothing but move the hero to a new bed, his heart rate and blood pressure are already far better… This man is a medical marvel!
 
The EMT, now known as Hakame, rests a hand over the Hero’s forehead with a look of concentration. After a few moments, Hakame smiles, looking up at Green and Emoto and dropping his hand back to his side. “Brain activity is picking back up, he’ll probably be waking up soon.” He steps back and looks between Green and Emoto, “Am I clear to go?” 
 
Emoto nods seriously to the EMT, who takes a step as if to leave, but the man pauses as Emoto lifts his hands. Green smiles, watching eagerly as a ghostly copy of the Hero appears to slide up from his prone form, like his soul leaving his body, and then lights up, showing the location and current status of his injuries. Green and the EMT watch with fascination as the color changes faster than Green has ever seen, indicating the hero’s injuries are healing at a rapid pace.
 
“This is above my pay grade.”  EMT Hakame murmurs, a little awed. Green blinks, his attention brought back to the present.
 
“Ah, before you go-” Ryu says, stopping Hakame again, “His records?”
 
“Oh. Um, his name is Himura Kenshin, and records have been transferred from the ambulance.” He says as he quickly turns to the door. “I’ve seen enough…” Green hears him mutter as he leaves.
 
Only half hearing him, Green watches a potential puncture to the Hero’s lung go from orange to purple to green, “No way....” He exhales in slight disbelief. This hero’s quirk was truly something; it was no wonder he’d apparently thrown himself into a fight he was outmatched for, if this is the kind of healing he was used to. No need to be frightened, Ryu supposed, if you were basically immortal…
 
Dr. Emoto, having taken Green’s disbelieving sigh as a remark on the accuracy of his quirk, pauses with some offence, “My scans are never wrong, Doctor.”  Green would reassure his fellow doctor that he meant no insult, but the man snapped to dismiss the image before he could get a word out. When the image clarifies again, it's the same, only more of Himura’s injuries have healed, and others are almost gone as well. Emoto’s quirk, now proven, is not deactivated again.
 
“Himura Kenshin, huh?  Impressive quirk.” says Emoto, waving his hand to dismiss the undamaged systems of the hologram. With a clearer image of the injuries, it is all the more obvious how quickly they’re healing. “No wonder he’s a hero, he’d never really have to worry about...anything.” Emoto continues, unknowingly echoing Green’s thoughts from earlier.
 
The name is familiar, for some reason, and when it finally sinks in Green has to take a moment to gape at the hero. He opens the chart, listed on the tablet at the bottom of the bed, just to check, and sure enough, this is the same patient as the man in their study! It’s amazing to see the original quirk in action; the samples that had been taken and preserved truly had nothing on the real thing..
 
Green remembers, suddenly, why he hadn’t actually known this man, personally, before. Himura Kenshin’s existence, as an underground hero, was essentially need-to-know, classified information. Most under-grounders were much the same. He takes another glance at the hologram, now mostly empty of the bright red lights of injuries, and makes a nervous laugh. “You are going to need to sign...so many NDAs.” He tells Emoto, who sighs heavily, also watching the hologram.
 
“Yeah,” He says, sullenly. Paperwork was not why he worked as a doctor, as he has told many people before, “I’m not unused to working with heroes here at Yamaguchi. I had gathered as much.” 
 
After a moment, Emoto releases active control of his quirk, and the image begins slowly fading as he steps out to find the nurse on duty. Green grabs the tablet again, using the last few minutes of image-time he has to mark down which areas had healed too fast to set properly- likely what the EMTs had struggled with enroute. He begins listing treatment options, among them, unfortunately, re-breaking a few of the bones. He sits for a few minutes, reviewing his notes as the image fades away, before going over the man’s file to make sure everything is in order before he leaves to gather what they’ll need for treatment. He skims it, mostly, this kind of paperwork a little outside his realm of research…
 
It’s standard stuff, just “Name: Himura Kenshin, Age: 437, Sex: M…”

Wait a

fricken

minute.

Green reads it again, but the age does not change. Nor, in fact, does the Kanji of the man’s name. Very familiar kanji, with a very plausible age….
 
The name finally sinks in fully, and he looks up at the prone hero, eyes widening. He recalls years and years of stories, not to mention the

centuries

of pictures of his mythical relative. As a child they were easy to believe, but after middle school he’d kind of assumed it was just a long-running family joke, that someone every two generations-or-so looks almost exactly like one of their uncles. But this man… Ryu takes in the red hair, the traditional clothing and the scar on his face, having stilled unconsciously with some shock,

“...Uncle Kenshin?”

Yamaguchi Hospital, Tokyo, Japan

Friday April 22, 2287,  1:46pm
 
In the hallway, only two doors down, Doctor Hikimoto finally has a chance to open his phone to see what the notification actually was.  He just stares at it for a moment, his tired mind blank after the work on Thirteen, before realizing that his assigned cubby opening was probably Ryu dropping off his food.

Oh. FOOD.

The mere

thought

of food (and subsequent rush of relief) has his stomach rumbling, perhaps because it’s been reminded that it is empty. Hopefully, he can get a break sooner rather than later; he really needs to eat something. His stomach can wait, however; the health of his patients is more important than his own, right now. 
 
WIth a sigh to brace himself, Tadashi raps his knuckles on the door in warning, and steps into room 103. He’s only popping in, this time, not offering treatment. The other hero he’s been assigned to this afternoon, one Aizawa Shouta (presumably, given most of his file is completely censored for Tadashi’s ID-code, an underground hero), has already been seen to by the EMTs and emergency room doctors- now, he’s been moved to the inpatient rooms, and under Tadashi’s jurisdiction for the rest of the day.
 
He looks up from the chart just in time to catch one annoyed glare and one smile of relief from the pair in the room. The dark haired man, the one glaring, looks like if he wasn’t laying down he could fall over any minute. The other, who Tadashi realises is Present Mic waves.
 
Tadashi smiles back,  “Good Afternoon. I’m told that-'' he takes a glance at his messages, “-Yamada? Has some questions for me. Nurse Tsumi listed in your chart that you,” he nods to the glaring man, “can probably be released after a night of observation, unless you’re hiding any more injuries. Any other concerns?”
 
“How is Thirteen?” The voice hero immediately asks, leaning forward in his chair. “We came in with them.” 
 
“Ah.” Hikimoto blinks. He taps a few buttons, flipping back to Thirteen’s file in his notes for the day. Their release form says their coworkers- these men listed among them- can know at least some of the details, at least. “No need to worry, their treatment is going very well, and they are being seen by quirk-trauma specialists as we speak. Unfortunately,” He sighs, tucking his tablet under his arm, “that’s all I can release without their express permission.”
 
“But they’re okay?” Aizawa demands, and Tadashi raises a hand to placate him.
 
“No need to worry, I assure you,” He smiles again, “If it makes you feel any better, Thirteen will likely be up to visitors, tomorrow afternoon.”
 
“Too long,” The underground hero mutters, but leans back into the mountain of pillows propping him up. Tadashi takes a moment to blink. Where on earth did they get so many?

“Thanks, doc!”

Present Mic says in English, with signature flair. Hikimoto is happy to say that’s one of the few things he actually understands, in English, but thankfully the man continues in Japanese. “Which room are they in? For tomorrow, I mean,” He winks, and Tadashi knows exactly how they got so many pillows. He flushes slightly, and coughs.
 
“Ah, they’re in the room right next door,” He assures them, “If you’ll excuse me?”
 
He closes the door swiftly, but not quickly enough to avoid hearing,
 
“Did you really need to?” Aizawa complains,

“Right in front of my salad,”

he continues in accented English.
 
“Stop quoting our son’s memes at me!” Present Mic demands, but then the door is closed, and Hikimoto takes his chance to flee.

Heroes were so

strange.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Outside Idaten Agency, enroute, and UA High School

Friday, April 22, 2287
 Tensei rushes out of the agency building like there’s a villain on his heels. The street isn’t too busy, it’s not yet rush hour, but even so he has to wrestle through the throng of people to flag down a cab. His phone, which had been incessantly ringing Hizashi’s phone, went to voicemail again.  Tensei quickly pulls the phone from his ear, just in time for Hizashi’s voice to shout, “YOU’VE REACHED ME LISTENER! LEAVE A MESSAGE!” There’s a few wide-eyed looks from the people around him, but thankfully a taxi finally pulls up. “Where to?” The man driving grunts as Tensei slides in.  “UA,” Tensei says, scrolling through his contacts again. “I’ll pay you double to get there as fast as possible.” The driver’s eyes widen, and immediately flick to the road. “Ah, you got it.” The man says, pulling into traffic the second there’s an opening. Tensei, assured the man will do his best, looks back to his phone and clicks the Dadzawa contact. The second the screen turns to the call, he puts up to his ear. When it stops ringing for a moment, he holds his breath, only to groan when it goes to voicemail- again. Without stopping to leave a message, he hangs up.  He runs through calls to the main school line, Edge Shot, Hound Dog, and Cementoss before starting over again with Mic and Aizawa, none of whom answer the call. Maybe Kenshin will pick up? Unfortunately, Kenshin’s phone not only doesn’t ring through, but straight-up says it’s out of service. “What on Earth is going on?” Tensei mutters to himself, clutching his phone like a vice. As a last resort, he tries Nemuri, who almost never picks up her phone. It rings a few times, like all the others, but just when he’s about to hang up and try Hizashi, again, she picks up the line.  “Midnight - Shit! Can’t talk now!” and before he can respond, she’s already hung up. With a quiet oath of frustration, Tensei resists the urge to throw his phone out the window...barely.  ‘The news!’ Tensei realises with a jolt; if something happened at UA, those vultures would be on it in a second. Urgently, he pulls up his rarely-touched news app, waiting desperately for it to load, even as the taxi driver makes a completely illegal turn. A few tinny car horns sound as they drive past. Tensei’s heart sinks when the first article comes up.  “ATTACK AT UA HIGH!” One screams at him from the page. “UA ATTACK- TEACHER HOSPITALISED!” Another reads. As he scrolls, the news gets worse and worse, each news outlet reporting different parts of the attack. With held breath, he clicks on one of the articles. Blurry images of students standing in small groups near an ambulance, smoke rising from the building behind them - must have been taken with a long range lens. The children all look fine, if rattled, but Tensei can’t help but sigh in relief when he sees his little brother comforting one of his classmates in the background. Warily, he scrolls, reading the article intently; based on what information the school had so far released, all of the students were fine, save for minor injuries. It continues in additional unconfirmed speculation that one of the teachers may be.. Dead?!   The final image in the article is someone being carted out of the USJ building, covered in a white, bloody sheet. Tensei can’t tell who it is. From the angle of the photo, the distance at which it was taken, and grainy quality; it’s impossible to tell.  Is… is one of his friends gone?  Suddenly, or perhaps fortunately, the taxi driver interrupts his thoughts. “Uh, Sir? I can’t get any closer to the school without running someone over.” Tensei looks up, and indeed, the street around the school is covered with reporters and cameras. The line of which abruptly stops at a police blockade. Luckily, none of them seem to have gotten inside. “This is good, thank you,” Tensei says automatically. The taxi driver tells him his total, which, as promised, he doubles for the quick ride. Tensei clambers out, pulling on a black, cotton mask for the limited anonymity it will give him, before beginning to push his way through the crowd. At the front, police officers are trying to get family members through while blocking reporters and those just curious as to what’s going on inside the school. “Back up!” One of the officers shouts, “This is a school, not a circus!” Tensei hears one of the reporters yell back, but the words are lost when a group of the vultures start rushing the main gate. There are more shouts as some of the police go to stop them, and the distracting spectacle allows him to push his way, finally, to the front of the crowd.  He makes his way to a side door, where one of the police officers is standing; one of the very few with authorization to carry a gun. A few others are nearby, keeping reporters away from the gate itself. As he approaches, the cop at the gate puts her hand on her holster and holds out her other to stop him. “Sorry sir,” She says firmly, “No one allowed in or out.” Tensei raises his hands, trying to avoid getting noticed by the crowd. The mask, while helpful, won't stand up to much scrutiny. “The school called me to come get my brother, officer; I’m no reporter,” he promises. “That’s what they all say,” The Cop says dryly, looking skeptical. “You got a UA ID card? They said all the guardians would.” “Ah, my Hero License is supposed to work as one,” Tensei recalls, pulling out his wallet, “but I haven’t carried the school ID since I graduated.” He runs his finger down the exposed edges of his credit cards and IDs, and finally, pulls out his Hero Commision license. The cop takes it without hesitation, and tilts it side to side. The watermark shines in the light, showing it’s genuine, but she still squints up at him. Tensei, realising the problem, pulls down his mask to smile awkwardly at her. “Hm,” She examines him suspiciously, but hands Tensei’s ID back to him. “Everything seems to be in order. I hope your brother is okay, Ingenium-san.” She waves him to the gate, and one of her companions opens it to let him inside. “Me too,” he sighs, and nods to her as he passes through the metal door. Behind him, the reporters grow louder when they see him go through and some start to rush over.  “FAMILY ONLY,” The cop yells at them, and then the door is closed.  Tensei can hear the click of cameras behind him as some try to get a shot through the gate.  Briefly, he wonders how many family members are stuck in that mess, worried about their children or brothers or sisters. His frown deepens. He’d been concerned that he wouldn’t be able to find his way to the office; but Tensei used to know UA like the back of his hand. They’ve added new buildings and moved some of the paths around, but enough of it has stayed the same that the changes are almost unnoticeable. He rushes down the cobbled walkway, faster than any normal man, towards the front of the school, and rounds the corner of the main building to find a milling group of anxiously waiting parents and guardians. They talk quietly to each other, and a few of them look like they’ve been crying. As Tensei slows down and approaches the crowd, the murmurs grow louder. A few of the civilians nudge each other and nod to him; probably assuming that, as a hero, he will know what’s going on. Tensei, mask still down and most awkward smile in place, sags in relief as a bus pulls into the drive. It stops near the group on the curb, and opens its doors to reveal the students of Class 1A, and Midnight.  Midnight disembarks first, stopping by the doors to make sure every one of the students is still accounted for. The children look exhausted, and some are sporting minor injuries or bandages.  Some students are still wrapped in shock blankets. The second their feet touch the ground, their parents are darting forward to pull them into desperate hugs, away from the bus and towards the gates, where a secretary is waiting to check them off her list. Tenya stumbles off the bus, after everyone else, looking exhausted and ashamed. His hero costume is so similar to Tensei’s own; Tensei feels his face warm, even as he rushes up to grab his brother in a fierce hug. “Tenya!” He breathes in relief. His brother is practically frozen in place, but Tensei ignores it to pull away briefly and examine him head to toe. He doesn’t seem to be injured, but he looks exhausted. There are dried tear-tracks on his face, but otherwise, he seems fine. “You’re okay, right?” Tenya’s face crumples and his eyes start to water, but he takes a deep breath and nods. “I was not injured,” Tenya says, and Tensei yanks him into another hug, pressing his brother’s face into his chest. Tenya doesn’t pull away, rather, his arms come around and his hands grip Tensei’s T-shirt like a vice. They don’t move or say anything for several long minutes, and Tensei takes that time to just appreciate that his brother is okay.

“Thank the ancestors,” He breathes, relaxing his grip slightly, but Tenya doesn’t really move. He sniffles a few times, face pressed to Tensei’s chest, but when the teen finally pulls away there is little more than red eyes and wet cheeks to prove he’d been shaken. Tensei lets him take a step back, but catches him by the shoulders, still not willing to let go. “What happened?” Tensei asks, and Tenya’s face twists up even more. “A villain attack.” Tenya says, confirming the news stories. “They seperated us swiftly. We had little chance to escape or defend ourselves, but my classmates handled themselves quite admirably!” He seems to take genuine pride in his classmates, but does not mention himself.  Tensei exhales, comforted by Tenya’s usual stiff mannerisms. “I’m sorry you had to deal with this so soon,” He says. Tenya willingly submits to yet another hug, this one so tight Tensei can feel his brother’s armor digging into him. He doesn’t care enough to let go. “I got here as soon as I could… I’m glad you’re okay, Tenya.” Tenya, face buried in his brother’s shirt once more, sniffles again. They’re both jostled a bit as a short, green haired woman runs past them. She’s practically bawling, unashamedly enveloping a crying, green haired teen in a tight hug. Tenya had told him about all his classmates, and Tensei tries to remember this one’s name... Midori? Green, indeed; based on the hair alone, that must be his mother. Tenya, emerging from Tensei’s shirt, smiles slightly at his friend, and Midori-something smiles back, even through his tears.   “Are you alright, Iida-kun?” The other boy asks, but Tenya’s answer is interrupted as Midnight joins them. She struts in like she was always meant to be there, commanding attention and respect, as always. She pats Tenya’s shoulder and ruffles Midori’s hair, a wide, slightly fake smile plastered on her face. “You should be proud of your little brother, Tensei!” Nemuri proclaims, “He ran so quickly to get help- if it weren’t for my car, he would have beaten me back!” Tenya’s face falls a bit, but he stands straighter, pulling away from Tensei. He ruffles his younger brother’s hair, grinning, but his eyes don’t leave Nemuri. Her voice is oddly subdued, even through the praise. “We’re lucky there weren’t more casualties; it’s thanks to your little brother that the kids all made it out in such good shape!” She finishes, and Tenya nods at her respectfully. Tensei knows it must have rankled his brother’s sensibilities to run from the fight, but he hopes the teen realises just how much he did to save everyone. He squeezes his brother’s shoulders and smiles, trying to ease Nemuri’s concern. “Of course I’m proud!” He says brightly. “I’ve always been proud of Tenya, and he saved so many people today- how could I possibly be disappointed?” Nemuri's smile becomes a little less strained, and Tenya sniffles at this and hides his face against his shoulder again. When they get home, Tensei is going to wrap this boy in so many blankets. “I don’t think you meant for the kids to stand out here, though?”  ‘I need to talk to you, I need to know what happened,’ Tensei tries to convey through just his eyes, and Midnight’s face softens slightly with understanding. Turning from Tensei and his brother, Nemuri calls to the students. “Okay, kids! If your parents or guardians aren’t here, start heading to the lunchroom! I’ll send your parents up to get you when they arrive.” She waves the students towards the doors. “If you’d like, Lunch Rush will have some food for you in the meantime!” Students who haven’t been picked up yet allow themselves to be herded inside. Midnight, giving him an excuse to stay, grabs his and Tenya’s arms and holds them out of the main flow of people. Once most of the crowd has passed them, Midnight touches Tenya’s arm comfortingly. “Hon,” She asks him, “do you want to be here for this, or do you want to go in with your friends? Your brother will be inside in a moment, but I think he should know what happened today.” Tensei watches numerous expressions cross his brother’s face, but eventually it settles on determination, “I shall go in with the others. It’s my responsibility as Class President to make sure everyone is accounted for.” He pauses, but finishes with, “I’ll make sure they all get their things, Sensei.”  ‘Why are you so responsible, Tenya?’ Tensei thinks with fond exasperation. Giving his brother another proud smile, Tensei pats Tenya’s shoulder and the two Pros watch him jog to catch-up, then walk inside with the Midori kid and his mom. They wait a few moments for all the guardians and children to get inside. Taking a deep breath, Tensei knows he can’t put it off any longer, since Nemuri needs to go in as well.  “Who was injured?”  He asks finally, bluntly, turning his worried gaze back to his friend. Nemuri looks suddenly exhausted. Now that the kids are out of sight, it’s like all the worry from the day has rushed over her all at once. She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Aizawa was hurt pretty bad,” She begins, and Tensei already hates where this is going. “Mic went with him to the hospital. Thirteen was in critical but stable condition last I heard, and…” Nemuri swallows. “And Himura….” She closes her eyes as her face crumples, and Tensei pulls her automatically into a hug, still processing what she’s said. Aizawa, Thirteen… and Himura. He’d barely had a chance to start getting to know him, but if he’d had a bit longer...  Nemuri allows the comfort for a moment while his mind spins. Tensei opens his mouth, closes it again; after a few moments, he manages, “Himura is...is he gone?” “They were trying to resuscitate him as they left. I- I don’t know.” Nemuri pulls back, looking at her long time friend and former schoolmate. She’s tall enough to look him in the eyes. “I don’t know how anyone could survive that. It was some kind of monster - but...but it could have been worse,” she says with finality. Tensei has been a pro hero for over ten years now. Almost Tenya’s entire life. He’s had other heroes die on the field around him, in especially vicious attacks; although he has never lost a sidekick, he’s not perfect. He can’t be everywhere at once. Tensei tries to imagine what it would be like if Tenya was injured or killed in this attack; what it would be like if he lost his brother and his friends in one blow. He’s seen it happen, but even so… he can’t. This is better than losing everyone, but the words are hollow at best. Tensei’s friendship with Himura has been brief, but in the little time they’ve known each other, that friendship has grown precious to him. With a little more time, it could be a lot like the bonds he has with Aizawa and Hizashi, or Nemuri. Maybe- even better. But now he might not get that time. He takes a deep breath and blinks, trying to clear the moisture from his eyes. “Nemuri,” He says, putting a hand on her shoulder. She glances back up to his eyes. “I’m really glad you’re okay.” Nemuri blinks at him, but smiles. She reaches up to squeeze the hand on her shoulder before taking a step back from him.

Tensei watches her gather her professional, heroic facade together, and slide back into character. She gives him a sassy grin, but her voice is full of much more honest emotion.  “Thank you Tensei.” 
Yamaguchi Hospital, Tokyo, Japan

Friday April 22, 2287,  2:46pm
 As someone who has risen to nearly the top of her department within a male dominated industry, Suzuki Sara, newly promoted Vice-Head of the Hero Development Division in the Hero Commission, is not known to take no as an answer, from anyone. The sister of a former well known hero, and the daughter of a former department head; her rise from the secretarial pool is paved with the remains of those who opposed her. So it is with some surprise and annoyance that she is meeting resistance in the form of an obviously very young, very new hero. He would have to be new, since she’d never heard of him before today.  She had been assured by the division chief it was simply a matter of getting him to sign off on the transfer, and having him moved so they could begin treatment. It wouldn’t be too long for someone so young to be molded into what they wanted. After all, they already had sponsored heroes in the top 10.   Suzuki narrowed her eyes and met this young man’s very stubborn gaze. He wasn’t cooperating , but if he wouldn’t do what they required, they could simply make use of his fascinating quirk in some other way, she decided. There weren’t many like this one; a quirk that could heal so completely and quickly was definitely among the more valuable she’d encountered. And she had encountered many - It was to the advantage of the Commission to have the hospital notify them each time someone with a valuable quirk was admitted. This… baby hero just happened to be one of them.   Reminding herself she’s supposed to be pleasant, and pasting a smile back onto her face, Suzuki answers his objection. “What do you mean, ‘no?’” She pauses with feigned incredulity, and looks over the red haired hero she’s been sent for. “Of course you’re coming with me. We have medical staff standing by who will be providing the best care available.” Inwardly, she sighed. If only she’d been able to get her escort in with her. With some backup, she could just override this nonsense and put his license at risk if he didn’t comply. Unfortunately, they were limiting personnel in the secure wing at the moment. Some excuse about “national security.” As if anything here was of national importance! Suzuki politely ignores the noise of offense the head of the clinic makes from beside the doorway; Doctor Yamaguchi, as he’d introduced himself, was below her concern at the moment. Right now, she needs this young man to stop resisting treatment; with some molding, that stubbornness could go to much better use. Again, the young hero in front of her shakes his head. His face is partially obscured by what is probably a now obsolete bandage, but his expression is flat and his tone is firm.  “I thank you,” He says, “but I have already made it clear I will not be going with you.” His ridiculously formal tone borders on sarcastic insolence, and Suzuki swallows a snarl. She purses her lips, and shifts her weight, showing off her pearl grey power suit to the best advantage. “You’ve obviously been through some trauma, and as an asset to the Hero Commission, we must move you to a secure location so we can evaluate the best steps to take in this situation.”  She tries to shift her tactics a bit, softening her face and giving him a winning smile, “Let us help you - that is what the Commission is for.” “Lady, I don’t think he wants to go with you,” she startles as she hears the gruff voice from behind her, and is rudely forced to step aside as a bandaged and grumpy looking man, using the Voice Hero as a crutch, enters the room abruptly. They step nearly through her on their way inside, and the grumpy one, with his arm in a sling, flops onto the bed beside the young man. He then lays down, without asking or a greeting. Himura, the younger hero, just shifts to make room. Doctor Yamaguchi looks like he wants to object, but ends up saying nothing.  Suzuki, taking her chance, presses the offensive once more. “This is between myself and Himura-san.” “ Shut-up ,” The grumpy man tells her bluntly, and flops his unbandaged hand over Himura’s face. He exaggeratedly whispers, “Don’t look, she’ll turn you to stone.” “Aizawa-kun,” Himura groans, but doesn’t remove the hand. “That is very rude.” All that answers him is a grunt, and Suzuki feels her face flush. The nerve! Present Mic, having dropped off his grumpy companion, stands up straight with a broad, if unfriendly, smile. “And what does the Hero Commision want with little ol’ Kenshin?” Himura, behind him, makes a sound of protest at being called little, but the grumpy man shushes him and settles in to sleep. “That is none of your concern.” Suzuki says firmly, but she knows a losing battle when she sees one. Either she’ll have to threaten their licenses, or she’ll need to collect Himura at a different time. How inconvenient. She usually comes to such meetings with far more leverage.“Sure it isn’t.” The Voice Hero’s tone hardens, but his smile returns more genuinely as he turns to his young colleague. “What happened to you, Himura? Get a facelift?” Himura’s eyes flick to Present Mic, and then back to Suzuki herself. He is clearly more wary of her, now that he has friends in the room; although thrilled with the new information, she doesn’t think she can utilise it, this time. He returns his attention to Mic, and deadpans, “Perhaps they fit it in between surgeries.” Before Suzuki can object to the number of people in the room, and insist again that the hero Battosai accompany her, another woman in a designer suit enters the room. She wears a dark blue ensemble, with a lavender blouse; her heels, notably more expensive than Suzuki’s own, click on the floor as she comes in. “This is the hero Battousai’s room, yes?” The new woman asks briskly. Present Mic, from where he stands by the bed, grumbles something about scary women with nefarious suits and intentions.   “What is this, Tokyo central station?” Suzuki sighs, looking over the newcomer. She is definitely not a hospital staff member, since the doctor, who is still patiently waiting, doesn't greet her. She is also not someone Suzuki recognises, meaning she is not affiliated with the Hero Commision; a simple thing, then, to override whatever this newcomer tries to finagle. Maybe, Suzuki can still salvage this. “Himura Kenshin,” greets the woman in a pleasant voice, ”We thought you were going to stay out of trouble after coming back to Japan?” Himura’s face flushes. “I must beg your pardon for showing up without notice, but I was told I might be needed.”  She flicks her short, blue, bobbed hair out of her eyes with a toss of her head, and extends one manicured hand for Himura to shake. Her blue and silver wrist bangles jingle with the motion. “Yamaguchi Sakura, Public Security Intelligence.” She introduces herself with a firm shake.  She shows him a flash of her badge with her other hand, returning it to her suit jacket pocket, before stepping back and turning her attention partially to Suzuki.  The Hero Commission representative’s expression has gone from annoyed, to stunned, and back to determined.   Yamaguchi sends Suzuki a dismissive look. The Public Intelligence Office, for as long as the Hero Commission has existed, had been the ever-present reminder that their power was not, officially , absolute. They had, several times, almost discovered the Child Prodigy programs; Suzuki remembered well exactly how close they had gotten to shutting the Commission down. What a pity , Suzuki thought smugly, that all the evidence had been lost not long before Hawks made his debut. With an arrogant smirk, she sends her own look back. Kenshin bows his head without taking his eyes off of the two-woman stand-off at the foot of his hospital bed.  “I must apologize, Yamaguchi-sama. This one did not mean to cause a scene.” The grumpy man cracks open a single eye. With a deadpan voice, he says, “Yes, how dare you almost die defending everyone. The audacity.” Himura smiles with genuine warmth, but Suzuki’s attention is once again drawn to Yamaguchi.  “I’ve got it from here.” Yamaguchi gives a bland, polite smile at the representative of the Hero Commission, and somehow, makes it seem a threat. “We can assure you Himura-sama will be well cared for.” Suzuki could feel things quickly slipping out of her control. She makes one last attempt to bring things back to her side.  “He’s a hero,” Suzuki points out, “so he’s under the Hero Commission's authority.” “Ah. He may be a hero, but if you look in his file, you will see that he was ours first. We maintain that claim as part of national security.  This, unfortunately, is above your clearance level.”  Yamaguchi nods to the doorway, and Suzuki turns her gaze to follow. Standing outside, a large, ominous man in a suit gestures for her to leave the room. Suzuki, glancing between the heroes and the representatives of the Intelligence Office, grits her teeth with a false smile, and starts toward the door. It's completely unfair this Intelligence woman is able to bring her minions while Suzuki’s own are forced to stay in the lobby.  “I’m sure you won’t mind hearing from the Hero Commission Board, then. We’ll see about this.” With that parting shot, Suzuki strides with dignity out of the room. The door shuts with finality, behind her. 
Kenshin’s Room, Secure Wing, Yamaguchi Hospital
 Kenshin has no idea what is going on. It has been more than 200 years since he has had two women arguing over him, and this seems less like they are vying for his attention, and more like they are trying to kidnap and dissect him. Well, he reconsiders, people considering dissection is by far more familiar than women vying for his attention. The new agent, Yamaguchi, watches the first woman leave with visible satisfaction. Kenshin had thought they did not know each other, but perhaps he had misjudged? Yamaguchi’s victory, while deserved, had been viciously final. There was an unknown conflict here he had not considered; but thankfully, it left with Suzuki. The door opens again briefly and Kenshin can’t help but tense as Yamaguchi’s enforcer, vast amounts of dark hair and muscle causing him to look much like a gorilla in a suit, steps in just long enough to hand her a square, white box. He leaves quickly, but the old rurouni does not dare relax. Yamaguchi turns back to Kenshin with a slightly less patronising smile, and gives a shallow bow- that of a highly ranked lord to their vassal, like he would have seen 400 years ago. Kenshin’s eyebrow raises unconsciously, although he thinks he should be offended, cannot bring himself to object. Yamaguchi straightens. “I apologise for the conflict, Himura-san. We will stop by UA to speak with you, after you’ve recovered.” She nods to the door, referencing the gorilla. “Agent Sato will remain in the hallway to screen visitors for you.”  Kenshin, still unsure what just happened, nods. “Oro...thank you?” It comes out like a question, and Yamada snorts.  Yamaguchi-sama nods again, just to confirm he understands, before offering him the white box. He hesitantly takes it. When the box is safely in his hands, Agent Yamaguchi briskly leaves without another word, shuffling the waiting Doctor out the door as well, over his protests. The door shuts loudly behind them. All three of the Pros, well, two, since Aizawa’s eyes are shut and mostly buried in Kenshin’s pillow, stare at the now closed door for several long moments. Hizashi eventually turns to Kenshin, and asks with avid curiosity, “How on Earth did you get involved with the Intelligence Office? Murder?” Kenshin just flashes a grin and says in English, British accent and all, “War, a Prince, and Chocolate Cake.”   Yamada sighs and looks disappointed, “Well you don’t need to lie about it.”  It’s a moment before his face shifts to suspicious, having heard a few other unbelievable things from his friend before.  “Wait…a Prince?” Mic straightens, and tilts his head to look the young Himura over, unfortunately making himself look even more like a cockatoo in the process. His lips are pursed, and his green eyes examine Kenshin seriously over his tinted glasses.  “I know that you’re, like,” Hizashi makes a nebulous hand gesture, “immortal; you didn’t even tell us that long ago but...man, it is so weird to see it in action. You’re so young.”  “It..takes some getting used to, it does.” Kenshin admits. Aizawa chuckles, face half buried in Kenshin’s pillow, but still appears almost asleep. “I don’t know if I could get used to you looking our age, let alone a few years younger,” Mic admits. He makes a mischievous smile. “Are you sure you aren’t just a clone?” “Oro...If only.” Kenshin groans. “I have not yet needed to go through puberty again, but I know it will come for me.” Mic barks out a loud laugh, not quite at quirk-levels but well on it’s way there. Having successfully dissolved the tension in the room, Kenshin looks back down at the white, square box he’d been handed, contemplating opening it. There isn’t much of a reason not to. Kenshin reaches up to lift the lid, only to grunt in pain and surprise as the IV stops him from lifting his arm. He pulls the needle out, but before he can drop it to the floor, Mic swoops in and snatches it from his hand. The Voice Hero turns off the IV to keep it from dripping, giving Kenshin the impression that Aizawa does this quite a lot.  “You need to rest and take care of yourself,” Mic says with exasperation.  His tone changes to more of a joking lilt as he continues, “..We don’t need you hurting yourself to the point you’re a baby or something.  You’re young enough as it is!” “Oro... is there a mirror in here somewhere?” Kenshin asks, suddenly worried that he’s unrecognizable - these injuries after all were worse than the last time he was hit by a car.  Kenshin moves quickly, setting the still unopened box on the bedside table and throwing off his blankets, which pile haphazardly onto Aizawa. As he swings his legs over to get up, he freezes.  “Oro,” Kenshin blinks. “My arthritis is gone.” Mic barks a bright, if awkward, laugh. “Maybe I should get a mirror for you. Stay in bed, though! I don’t want to get in trouble just so you can check for wrinkles.” Hizashi neatly dodges Kenshin’s swipe for his head and starts looking for that mirror. Meanwhile, Aizawa takes the opportunity to cocoon himself in the blankets, claiming them as his own. Hizashi’s search is half hearted at best, although he does it with good humor. He exaggeratedly starts opening drawers, peering inside like they contain untold secrets; and possibly even mirrors. Eventually he swaggers into the attached bathroom, catching the door with his foot to keep it from closing. “Well, there’s one in here, but it’s attached to the wall!” There’s a pause. “How much do you think it costs to replace a wall mirror if you accidentally broke it?” “Step away from the mirror, Hizashi,” Aizawa warns, suddenly sounding very awake. Mic leaves the bathroom, leaving the mirror intact, grinning like a loon. “Oh well,” The voice hero says, pulling out his phone. He taps the screen a few times, before turning it to Kenshin. The camera, still flipped to the back, simply shows a zoomed version of Mic’s lapel. “This will have to do, then!”  Kenshin accepts the phone. It takes a minute for him to find the ‘flip camera’ button, but when he does find it he can’t help but gawk at the screen. “Oro!” He nearly swears, “I am practically a child!” His wrinkles, however few, the grey hair he’d found last week, and his smile-lines were completely gone. Instead, a young man in his prime stared mournfully into the camera. Aizawa rolls onto his uninjured side, peeking out from his burrito of warmth as Hizashi busts out laughing. Hizashi guffaws, “Well, I wouldn’t say child. What do you think, Shota? Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight.” “Infantile,” Aizawa agrees. Or disagrees. His tone makes it ambiguously unclear.  Kenshin just keeps staring at himself in chagrin, “All my grey hair is gone!  He touches his face while watching himself, turning his head this way and that, “And...my skin…”  He gives a long sigh, and turns the camera on the phone off.  Aizawa just gives him a dry look, still taking up most of Kenshin’s bed, “You sound upset by this.  It takes Hizashi hours to do what you just did. And maybe surgery.” “Rude, Shota! It's so unfair, ” Mic whines dramatically although his face gives him away with a smile, “ I’m supposed to be the pretty one. I’m only thirty-two, in my prime!”   “Your prime was two years ago.” Aizawa retorts.  “I want a divorce.”   Kenshin laughs, tossing Mic’s phone back at him. He flops backward onto the bed, nearly onto Aizawa, sighing. “It took me so long to get those wrinkles.” He mopes. Aizawa barely avoids getting squished and shifts aside with a grumble.  But then he pauses and takes on a pensive expression.  Releasing his stranglehold on the blankets he shifts to a more normal seated position for a brief moment, he nudges Kenshin’s side, “You scared us.” Mic sobers as well, “Yeah man. Thanks for saving their asses, but you need to take care of yourself too - that was too close.” Kenshin flushes slightly, flustered by the sudden change in tone. “I.. I apologise. I will do my best to keep myself in one piece, from now on.” Aizawa grunts and leans back against the pillows, “You better.”  Mic smiles down at them both, but before he can say anything else, his phone takes that moment to ding with an incoming message. Looking down, he sighs, “Ouch. Thirty missed calls... I didn’t know this many people had my number.” He fiddles with his phone, and Kenshin watches the expression shift as he scrolls on the screen.  Mic looks up, “I’ve got messages from both Nedzu and Tensei..I’ll let them know you’re alive?” Kenshin nods in appreciation, “Please. I don’t believe mine survived the attack… or, at least, I have yet to see it.” “Crushed,” Aizawa yawns, burying himself further in the stolen blankets. Mic snickers, “Such an understatement.”  Leaning over the bed slightly, he gives Aizawa a kiss on the cheek before walking toward the hallway, “Need to find a better signal and give Nedzu and Tensei a call back.  I’ll be back in a few.” Hizashi gives them both a grin as Aizawa mumbles something in response. When he opens the door, however, he startles a doctor coming in from the other side. They both stare for a moment, before Mic laughs a little and excuses himself past them. “Sorry about that!” “Ah, it’s fine. Excuse us.” The doctor and his companion step aside as Mic leaves, and then they enter the room.  The younger man, who’d entered first, looks oddly nervous. He’s closely followed by Doctor Tadashi Hikimoto, who, in comparison,  just looks excited.  Kenshin had previously met Doctor Hikimoto, and relaxed upon seeing it was just him. No more government ladies. The door slowly closes behind them as Hikimoto steps to the front, bowing again. He smiles as he straightens back up, “Good afternoon!  You’re looking much better, Himura-sama. And...Aizawa-sama?” He pauses for a moment, “Why are you in here? Aren’t you supposed to be in your own room?” Eraser practically melts off the bed, and pours himself bonelessly into the guest chair instead, “Yes well, I needed to check on this idiot to make sure he didn’t go and die or something.” Doctor Hikimoto looks unsurely between Aizawa and Kenshin. “It would be best if you returned to your room for now. They will be in soon with your discharge papers, and we have some tests to run…”   Kenshin cuts in at his hesitation, “I do not mind if he stays. He already knows about me.” Hikimoto exchanges a look with the other Doctor, who shrugs, and then smiles at them both, “I think we all know each other, but let me introduce you to Doctor Ryu Green.  Doctor Green is completing his residency here, and his work on your study has been essential for the progress we’ve made so far.  He’s a bit of a prodigy in his field so he was called in to help with your treatment.” Kenshin lights up at the introduction, and scans this man in front of him with some eagerness.  “Are you by chance related to the Greens of Oxford?”  He asks, and he begins to notice features which make him an interesting mix of that family and his more recent asian heritage.  Green blinks for a moment, and there are a few moments of silence before he seems to realize he’s been spoken to and bows hurriedly.  “Ah..Yes!  My Grandfather and his wife moved to Japan, and my family has been here since.  We still have cousins in Oxford, I think..  He grins brightly, voice becoming rushed and hand coming up to run through his hair; despite his asian features, he looks very much like Henry in that moment. “And you’re Uncle Kenshin, right?  I mean, you must be - the quirk, not to mention Oxford and the pictures! Er, My grandfather got your letter, and my parents told me you might be in the area, but I never expected...”  He can’t seem to stop the word vomit from pouring out of him.  Doctor Hikimoto looks curious, gaze going from one to the other with the exchange.  As the two finish talking his expression shifts from surprise to alarm, and he nearly drops the tablet he’s holding, “ Uncle Kenshin?” 
Outside Yamaguchi Clinic, Tokyo, Japan
 Dabi leaves the hospital without hassle, simply glancing at his stolen watch and walking slightly faster every time he passes someone in the halls, his white coat making the whole thing even more dramatic than he meant it to be. The side door was easy enough to get to, and once outside, he shoves the lab coat back into the backpack he’s hidden in the bushes and pulls out his black hoodie, seamlessly transforming from a put-upon doctor to a lazy twenty-something with a cold. Dabi makes sure to check his reflection with a glance to the window beside him, leading to the empty hallway he’d come from. Yep, looking homeless. Perfect. He swings the backpack onto his shoulder, ready to look like a miserable guy who just got prescribed some advil instead of proper medicine, but is stopped short by the door opening. Dabi looks up, ready to hide, but thankfully it’s not a doctor or a hero coming out of the building. Instead, it’s the girl from earlier, holding a little cat-print bag; presumably, given where he’d left her, full of blood bags. “Ah,” He sighs, “Fuck, you startled me, kid.” She jumps at his voice, startled in turn, whipping around to face him. When she sees him, her face lights up. “Not-doctor!” She says happily. She steps forward, grabbing his hand with both of hers before he can stop her. “Thank you so much for helping me!” “Er, whatever, kid,” Dabi says awkwardly, yanking his hand out of her surprisingly strong grip. “Just don’t sell me out if you get caught.” She smiles at him again, nodding vigorously. Taking that for the confirmation of silence it is, Dabi turns to walk away. “See ya, squirt.” “Wait!” She says, but Dabi ignores her. If she could get into the hospital, she can take care of herself. 
(“Wait!” Fuyumi says, but Touya ignores her. If all goes well, he’ll never have to leave for training again. He’ll apologize later.)
 So focused on getting away from the hospital, it actually takes a few moments for him to realize he has a little tag-along. It’s been blocks, shoving his way through the crowds on his way to his safehouse, when he finally picks up on it. A few paces behind him, the blond girl follows. She’s not even trying to hide it- humming and skipping and looking to all the world as just a middle-schooler on her way home. Dabi, usually more aware, is cursing himself. Missing his painkillers isn’t a reason to be complacent. It takes a bit for him to find a suitably isolated ally. He turns into it as though he always meant to, never having slowed down or given any impression he’d noticed his tail. Predictably, the girl follows, skipping into the ally without a care. Quick as a viper, he grabs her arm, pulling her into the shadows. “Hey!” She yelps, holding tightly to her bag. Dabi lets her pull her arm from his grip. “What’s the big idea?!” “Why are you following me?” He demands, instead of answering. She blinks at him, those wide, gold eyes taking him in, before she averts them to the ground. “I…” She hesitates. There are several moments where neither of them say anything, and the tension is nearly overwhelming. When she still doesn’t speak, Dabi scoffs. “Whatever, kid. Don’t follow me.” He takes a step back, ready to get home, when she grabs his wrist. Her grip is tight, and when he turns to demand her reasons, her eyes are wide and frightened. “I can’t go home,” She whispers. “I... please, oniisan.” Dabi hesitates. 
(“Please, Touya!”)
  “Fine,” He growls, and her smile is shaky and bright. Tears had started running down her flushed cheeks, and before Dabi could stop her, she’s thrown her arms around him in a hug. He’s caught off guard, arms in the air to avoid touching her, even as her shoulders begin shaking. Slowly, carefully, he places a single hand on her head.  “Eh...kid? You really shouldn’t be trying to go home with strange men.” He dreads to think what would’ve happened had she run into anyone else at the hospital, today. She laughs. After a few moments, she pulls away from him, wiping at her face. She grins up at him, revealing sharp fangs, but her smile is completely genuine. “My name is Toga Himiko, oniisan!” She extends a hand, like westerners do, and Dabi takes it cautiously. “...Dabi,” He says, and Toga smiles even wider. “Now we’re not strangers, oniisan!” “Stop calling me that.” Dabi snaps, but she only giggles again; clearly, Toga has already found his weak spot. ‘ This kid,’ he shakes his head, ‘ This kid is going to be the death of me. I can feel it already.’

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter 26 - 
 
Yamaguchi Clinic, Secure Wing Waiting Area

Friday April 22, 2287,  6:21pm
 Three hours ago, Amiko had found out Himura-sensei was in the hospital. She was still shaking.  The drive over had been tense; Mom sped the whole way and rushed through at least three traffic lights on their way here. Besides telling Amiko what was going on, Mom hadn’t said much since, and Amiko likewise remained mostly silent. Eventually, they had arrived at the hospital, and now that they were here, she anxiously waited in an uncomfortable white plastic chair while her mother demanded answers from the poor receptionist. The smell of antiseptic was making her eyes sting...and water. They still didn’t know for sure how Himura-sensei was doing. The last few hours had been miserable.  It all reminded her of the day her father died. It was a long time ago; so long ago that Amiko barely remembered what his laugh sounded like, or what his quirk was. All Amiko really remembers of her Dad is the day he died- waiting in an uncomfortable plastic chair, (also white that time), for good news that would never come; she remembers watching her Mom fall to her knees crying for the first time. Those feelings bubbled up again, only so much worse- her father had been dead for ages, but Amiko had talked to Kenshin yesterday. She sniffled. Damn antiseptic smell.  Her Dad hadn’t made it. Amiko wonders if this is the same chair she’d been in last time. Himura-sensei is family now, he isn’t allowed to be injured! Anger flares hot and sudden, and Amiko resists the urge to cry by growling a little under her breath.  First she’s going to make sure her Sensei is ok, and then she’s going to kill him for not being ok!  “Stupid sensei,” she mutters to herself, scuffing her foot on the ground, and causing a squeaking sound as her shoe rubs against the tile.  She looks up from the floor just as the outside sliding doors open to reveal a tall, dark haired teenager in a UA uniform. He’s closely followed by an older man, who she recognizes; Pro-hero Ingenium, or Iida-san. Based on his expression, he’s also heard about Himura-sensei- she knows they’re friends, so when they pause in the doorway, she stands hesitantly. “...Iida-sama?” She asks. Both of them turn to face her, the kid with a questioning look on his face and Tensei with an almost identical expression that softens into a half smile. “Myojin-chan…” “I’m his emergency contact!” Myojin Kimiko demands loudly, drawing everyone’s attention. “And if you do not let me in to see him right now , or at least send someone out to tell us how he is, I will be taking this to the hospital board!” Tensei hurries over, flashing his hero badge at the beleaguered security guard who looks a bit relieved. The frazzled receptionist had already retreated beyond the employee only door a few minutes after Amiko and her Mother had arrived. Tenya and Amiko trail after Tensei, hovering behind him and Kimiko respectively while they confront the guard. “Good Afternoon. I’m Ingenium, we -” and he gestures to all of them, “Are here to see Himura Kenshin.”  The relief of the security guard goes back to tired annoyance, “I can’t let you in. Entry is limited to authorized personnel or family, and they have to clear you before I can let you through, anyway!” Amiko watches as Tenya smiles what she would call his Pro-Hero smile and gestured helpfully to the security panel near the door, “Why don’t you call in and see if they’re expecting us, eh?” The obstinate guard is about to reply when the door clicks open behind him, forcing him to step to the side to avoid whomever is coming through.  As the doors to the hero wing slide apart they reveal Present Mic, who is looking down at his phone. He pauses, flashing a grin to Tensei as he steps out in front of the guard, forcing him to take another step back.  Mic extends one arm keeping the sliding doors open, “Ah, you made it, good. Come on in!” “...You can’t just...ugh.” Amiko hears the guard say with resignation as they step into the long hallway beyond the door. She rushes down the hallway a bit before pausing for the rest to catch up. Glancing at the identical doors to either side, she realizes she doesn’t know where to go. That, and there is a large man in a suit sitting beside one of the doors further down, watching them.   “...Thanks Man!” The tail end of whatever Mic was saying to the guard echos down the hallway as the door slides shut behind him. Amiko’s attention returns to the center of the hall as her mother stops next to her and they both watch as Mic and Tensei walk toward them, the UA student trailing behind.  Tensei smiles at her mother as they catch-up, and then glances at Amiko as well, including her in the conversation, “Mic says he’s just a few doors down on the left.”   Kimiko nods and wraps one arm around Amiko’s shoulders as they fall into step with the rest, following them to the open doorway beside the man in the suit. Who is he? Another guard? The man is about to stand when Mic joins them. “They’re with me! Authorized 100 percent .” Mic finishes in english, and grins as he ushers them toward the open door.  The muscle nods once to Mic, and looking them over returns to his seat. Amiko is suddenly nervous to see how Kenshin is doing. What if he’s terribly injured and won’t even know they’re there? Her fears are relieved somewhat as she hears a grumble from someone and then Kenshin’s bright laugh follows, and the sound of a door closing. She rushes forward and into the room, causing Tensei to stumble to the side as she pushes through the doorway at the same time he had stepped into the space.  She pauses, suddenly unsure as she takes in someone wrapped tightly in blankets on the hospital bed, glaring at them in the doorway. Dark hair and eyes make it obvious this isn’t her Sensei. “Oh…!”  She says, “Uh…” Tensei passes her and turns to sink into one of the guest chairs, “Hey Aizawa. Still kicking I see?” he says in a teasing tone. Amiko steps to the side of the room as her mother joins her, the UA student beaming at the man in the bed, “You appear much improved, Sensei!” The young man grins, “It is good to see you.  I’ll tell the rest of the class you’re looking much better!” The door that must lead to the bathroom clicks open, and a surprisingly uninjured Kenshin, hospital gown tied in an odd semblance of pants around his waist, new scars - some still with stitches -on display across his shoulder and chest, walks out. There is the edge of a bandage peeking over his shoulder, and he’s picking at the adhesive corner of another bandage and peeling it away from his face,  “I think these are now unnecces….”  He’s interrupted by a loud, “Himura Kenshin!” from her mom, who’s expression of surprise and relief quickly morphs into fury. Amiko can’t help but reflexively flinch, and then is relieved she’s not the one her mother’s wrath is directed toward.RIP Kenshin.  “Oro! Miyojin-sama!” Kenshin winces slightly, “I see they were able to reach you.” Mic is avidly watching this like it’s a soap opera, hands twitching like he’s going to reach for snacks that aren’t there, then pulls out his phone to capture the moment. Aizawa groans and just covers his head with the pillow. Tensei is completely still, just staring at Kenshin and her Mom. “They said you were near death!” She stalks over and hits her apparently uninjured friend on the shoulder, causing him to flinch, “Had to be taken immediately to the hospital for surgery, and we...Ugh!”  She hits him in the shoulder again with more force this time, and he winces, cowering apologetically, even as she appears near tears with relief. Amiko can’t help but feel vindicated with her mothers semi-violent response. She slowly starts to walk to Kenshin and her mother’s side, still undecided if she’s going to hit him or hug him.  “Oro..I was...feeling much better, that I am.”  Kenshin tries to pacify her and the room sinks into an uneasy pause. Kenshin pats Kimiko’s shoulder hesitantly, unsure how to comfort her. “I did add instructions that they are not to call you in the future unless I am completely unresponsive.  Want to worry you unnecessarily, this one does not.” Mic snickers, recording with his phone.Suddenly Tensei laughs, a bright unrestrained expression of his surprise, breaking the tension in the room. The pro hero is shaking his head and sounding a bit stunned, “Wow Kenshin - I didn’t recognize you at first.”  Amiko smothers a snicker as Tensei eyes Kenshin appreciatively before glancing back up to his face with a light blush, “You weren’t kidding about the youth thing.”  The younger Iida brother catches Tensei’s expression, looks at Kenshin and back to his brother, snorts, shakes his head, and goes to lean against the wall near the bed.  “Oro!” Kenshin flushes, meeting Tensei’s gaze briefly before bending slightly to return Amiko’s careful hug, “Do not worry, I will be fully well soon.” He warmly smiles at her, and winces as his gaze shifts to her mother who still seems torn between relief, anger and exhaustion. He disentangles himself and somewhat shakily brushes past everyone to sit on the bed.  He looks relieved to sit, which is probably a sign that he’s not as well as he wants to appear. “I must rest a bit more before they will let me leave, but I should be discharged soon.”   Mic jumps up from his chair and with a few more clicks of his camera grins at everyone before pocketing his phone. “Well, now that everyone is here, I need to go!”  He casts a questioning glance at Kimiko who gratefully goes to claim the chair that he abandons.  Aizawa grumbles and snags Mic’s jacket before he can step away, pulling him down to his level for a moment.  Mic takes this in stride as if normal, and they talk to each other in tones too low for Amiko to catch the conversation, before Mic gives them all a grin and quick wave, leaving the room. Kenshin slowly slides back into bed, displacing Aizawa to the side, and relaxes back into the pillows. Tensei grins at him and says something that makes Kenshin laugh and then grasp his side with a wince.  Looking over the room, Amiko can’t help but smile in relief. She wanders over to the bedside and squeezes into the not-really-big-enough chair with her mother.  
Tokawa Medical Supply Outlet, Kamino Ward, Tokyo, Japan.

Friday April 22, 2287,  8:11pm
 Tamakawa Sansa, officer of the police force, considered how long it would take to make detective at this rate, while picking his way through the glass strewn, nearly empty storefront.  Detective Naomasa had already left to take the little evidence they had back to the police station for analysis. Sansa had been left here to tape the area off, think over his conclusions for the attack for his report, and wait for the replacement security guard to arrive. What a mess. This case was likely linked to the previous cases where the store owners and employees had also disappeared, but they still hadn’t determined who the villain was, or what they were after. At least this time it was a repeat hit.   This store had been attacked only two weeks ago, causing an employee to go missing, as well as random medical equipment. This time, the manager was gone. The register was also emptied, though, so it could be just an attack of opportunity. Sansa unconsciously flicked the tips of his ears, whiskers twitching; something was...odd, here. What linked all of these disappearances and robberies together? There must be something specific to this store that was important for whatever they wanted.   Sansa made his way outside, and taped off the entry to the store while he thought it over. Man, he could use a smoke, or some good tea. Digging through his pockets he pulls out a nearly empty pack of cigarettes, selects and carefully lights one, and takes a long drag before returning the lighter and remainder of the pack to his pocket. He exhales the smoke slowly, watching it dissipate into the air. A school, a warehouse, a medical supply store, a jewelers, a medical billing and records company, a quirk support company...what was the connection? Startled, he manages to singe one of his whiskers when his radio goes off, calling for his attention. Swearing, he drops the cigarette and stomps it out while pulling out his radio to respond. “This is Officer Tamakawa.” “Tamakawa, it’s Naomasa. Get back to the station, we have a break in the case!”  
The Austerium, Aizawa’s Apartment, Musutafu, Tokyo, Japan.

Saturday April 23, 2287,  11:41am
 Aizawa’s sleep muddled brain is brought half to wakefulness by a loud, annoying sound. It takes him a moment to identify it, as confused by painkillers and sleep as he is, but the second he thinks of the most plausible answer, he’s irritated. It was early Saturday morning, and there was an alarm going off. Why me? He groans. Without lifting his head or his injured arm, Shouta pats around his nightstand for the offending alarm clock. With perhaps unneeded harshness, he stabs the snooze button. The noise doesn’t stop.  With a grunt, he picks up the damn thing and throws it against the wall with his good arm. He hears it shatter, but when the ringing doesn’t stop, he finally lifts his head.  Oh. His new phone, since the other had been destroyed, was practically dancing around his nightstand with the harsh ringer’s vibration. On the screen, Hizashi’s smiling face proudly proclaimed just who was calling him. Hizashi only called if he was dying, hungry, or locked out. Since his husband had likely left to get food, he was locked out. Even so, it took until long after the phone had stopped and then started ringing again for Shouta to pour himself out of bed, blanket and all. He forced his still very sore and unhappy body to walk semi-steadily towards their front door. When he finally got there, he yanked it open harshly, glaring at his sheepishly smiling husband on the other side. The ringing sound still coming from the bedroom stopped. “Thanks, Listener!” His husband smiles, kissing him on the cheek as he slips inside. Aizawa irritably smacks at his face, and Hizashi dances out of reach.  “Mm.” Shota grunts. “Divorce.” “I left my keys at the radio station!” Hizashi defends, “Besides, I don’t want to break into our apartment in broad daylight.” Aizawa frowns, but accepts that reasoning. It’s one thing to have Hizashi in gossip magazines. It’s another to have him accused of breaking and entering on the news. He huffs, but accepts Hizashi’s second kiss to his cheek without complaint. Mic practically skips to the kitchen, dropping off his small grocery bag. Shouta shuffles in behind him, in no hurry to step on the cold kitchen tiles. Awkwardly wrapping himself more securely in the blanket he’d dragged from the bed, he curls up on one of the chairs and doesn’t have to try very hard to look pathetic. “You woke me up.” Wincing, Mic sets his voice modulator and gloves on the counter, before he starts pulling out food and a bag of coffee beans, “Sorry, I know you’ve had a hard couple days, and I tried to call, but your phone went to voicemail.  Let me make you breakfast?”  He adds the last placatingly while the smell of coffee grounds wafts from the bag Mic just opened. “Coffee first, yeah?  You just sit and let me take care of you.” Aizawa slouches, resting his head on the table and hums a positive response, watching him cook through half closed eyes. They fall into a comfortable, familiar almost-silence while Mic prepares food, humming or singing occasional snippets of various songs that pop into his head.  Eventually Hizashi gently shakes Aizawa awake, placing a steaming omelet in front of him beside a mug of coffee that is already there. He must have drifted back off at some point. Hizashi sits across from him and they eat while Mic tells him about last night's radio show, chuckling at his own jokes and generally being himself.  Aizawa feels a sharp rush of relief and gratitude that he’s able to be here with his husband, and can’t help but fill a brief break in conversation with his quiet, “Thank you ‘Zashi, for breakfast.”  Which awards him a flash of a bright grin.  “Do you like your new phone?” Hizashi eventually asks, gesturing with his fork, “I just grabbed the next one from the box and used the archive image I did for you last month.”  He sounds smug with vindication. It had been his idea after all to have spare phones handy, with as frequently as they broke them.  Shouta had said it was unnecessary, and they should just stop breaking phones. Aizawa sighs, “Yes ‘Zashi, it was a good idea.” Hizashi practically preens. Their morning, or afternoon, is interrupted by Hizashi’s phone ringing.  He pulls it out after setting his coffee back down, and looks up at Aizawa. “It’s Tsukauchi Naomasa.”  He clicks the accept before lifting the phone to his ear, “It’s Mic, one sec my man!” and just hands the phone over to Aizawa, who Naomasa usually is calling for when he can’t get Eraser on his line.   “Eraser.” Grunts Aizawa after he takes the phone, suddenly all Pro-hero again.  He wonders briefly why the call didn't come through on his own phone. “Put me on speaker, Eraser. Mic should hear this too since he’s helping with the case.” Naomasa’s tinny voice says over the line, and Aizawa complies, setting the phone between them on the table.   “What’s going on, Detective?” Eraser asks, lifting his coffee mug for another sip. “It’s about the disappearances. Tamako, the manager at the first shop, has shown up in America-- of all places.  She says she was in the middle of the robbery, and then pop, just appeared at some old lady’s house in the middle of nowhere, halfway across the world.” Papers shuffle in the background, and they can hear the clicking of a keyboard, “We’re coordinating with their government to get her transferred back over to Japan, but it will probably be a couple of days.”   Mic glances between Aizawa and the phone, before speaking up, “Do you need us to come in? We’re still recovering from the fight at the school yesterday, but we can come if you need us.” Aizawa glares halfheartedly at Mic, who shrugs unapologetically.   Tsukauchi laughs, “Eraser is glaring at you isn’t he? That or he’s fallen asleep again, I heard about that fight.” The tone of his voice changes, less professional and more expressive of their long time friend, “Take your time, but I’d appreciate it if you both could stop by and review the file tomorrow before she gets back. I’d like more information on this villain before he strikes again.” “We will. See you then.” Aizawa finally adds. Mic collects the phone and hangs up, dropping it lightly back to the tabletop.   “Well,”  Mic says. “I guess I should go fill Kenshin in.” Aizawa just nods, slowly standing with a slight wince, and starts to slink back toward the bedroom, “Watch out for the government gorilla. He followed us home and he’s crashing on Himura’s couch.” Hizashi’s laughter follows him down the hall. 
Hero Commission Offices

Downtown Tokyo, Japan

Saturday, April 23, 2287,  4:00pm
 Suzuki hated working weekends. She had hoped that by this point in her career she would have other people to do these sorts of things, but it seems if she wants something done right she must always do it herself. Of course, with the unexpected interest of the board in her initial report, the meeting today was necessary.  As well as not something she could delegate. Today, her suit is red, to subtly remind those around her that messing with her may get them burned. Her heels click on the floor as she walks down the hallway to the conference room, and she enjoys the audible reminder of her station with the commission. Most of the lower levels have carpet rather than marble floors. An attendant opens the door for her when she arrives, and she steps inside, taking her place at the table.  Only a few moments later and the public face of the hero commission, an older woman with shoulder length ash-blond hair and a dark suit, calls the meeting to order. “Good Afternoon Everyone. I assume you’ve read the report provided to us by Suzuki-san,” she nodded at Sara who returned the nod, “and understand the urgency of the meeting today.” Some rustling of papers follows this remark, as any who haven’t read it try to skim the details.  Turning, she pushed something on the remote in her hand, bringing up a holographic image of the new hero Battosai’s hero license. “We identified Battosai as a possible candidate for our Hero Prodigy program, however, upon further review, we feel he may be of more use to us in other ways. This is not without complications, as outlined in our report.  Suzuki-san, please get us started with your recommendations?” Sara stood, smoothing her skirt once before addressing the board, “As you have likely read, Battosai’s quirk appears to be some sort of advanced healing type. It allowed his recovery from near fatal injuries in a matter of hours, and surprisingly did not flag on any of our earlier standing notification programs.” Suzuki’s voice takes on an irritated tone, “Also, in the time between my arrival at the hospital and my return to our office yesterday, the public information on Battosai has been nearly completely eradicated by the Public Security Intelligence Office, or those working for them. I only had what had previously been printed into hard copy to work from for this report, or very sanitized electronic records. Some of which I’m sure was falsified, due to obvious typos.” Doctor Daruma Ujiko, an older, rather round man, with peculiar, goggle-like glasses, interrupted, “I would very much appreciate a chance to learn more about this man’s quirk.  Even with the little information available and your limited observations, it seems he could be of great benefit ...to the commission.”  Two of the other directors nodded at this statement, but remained silent, awaiting Suzuki’s response.  Another appeared displeased by something, although Suzuki couldn’t determine if it was the interruption or the information she’d been providing. Taking a deep breath and clasping her hands behind her back, Suzuki continued, “As I was saying - We will have to find a way to isolate him.  He is quite well known within his group, and as an instructor at UA, is fairly well protected, in addition to whatever protection the Intelligence office affords him. My current recommendation would be to try to isolate a genetic sample from the hospital, or to possibly arrange for a confrontation where we could control the situation.” The final member of the board, whom Suzuki had never met, spoke up from his console. She’d yet to see him actually attend a meeting in person. “I feel the sample may be the best option. I don’t think we’re yet ready for a confrontation, which may bring our methods prematurely into the view of the public. We have other lanes we are still pursuing.” There were nods and sounds of agreement from the board, and the President stood again.  Suzuki took that as her que to sit.  “I want everyone to review the report in detail and send me your recommendations within the week.” Madam President straightened her jacket, nodded once at Suzuki, and smiled at the room without any emotion reaching her eyes. “Dismissed.”

Dabi’s Safehouse, Tokyo, Japan.

Saturday, April 30, 2287,  1:20pm
 Dabi should have known what he was signing up for. It’s been about a week since Himiko--for a lack of a better term-- appeared in his life and refused to leave. He honestly wasn’t counting the days. But Toga is a handful, much more of a handful than his sister ever was. Maybe that’s because Fuyumi is his age, maybe it’s because Himiko was… Himiko… but regardless: she’s a lot. Almost too much, but in her defense, she’s clearly more aware of his moods than he is, some days. One minute she’s bothering him about chip flavors, the next, completely vanishing into her small, closet-like room in his safehouse. Dabi looks down at the bag she’d handed him before disappearing, this time, eyebrow twitching. It’s the backpack she’s been carrying around with her since they met. That day she’d dragged him to her little hide-away to pick up a sweatshirt and another pair of socks, but she doesn’t seem to have any other clothes besides the school uniform and a pair of jeans. In her defense, it’s a small backpack, but as her (unwilling) guardian, he kind of has a responsibility to clothe and feed her, or whatever. “Toga?” He calls. He makes sure to keep his voice even; having the sneaking suspicion she’d run off because he was irritated. Not at her, but the situation she’d inadvertently put him in. After all, he suddenly has two mouths to feed, and he’s not making the kid get a job. Especially not in their situation, because he knows exactly which jobs she’d find it easier to get, and she’s like… five. Or fifteen. Fuck, how do kids work, again? “WHAT?” Toga calls back, loudly and cheerfully. Dabi sighs. Well, she doesn’t sound like she took his mood personally, at least. When she appears in the doorway to the hall, eyes wide and grin eager, he sighs again, waving her towards the front door of his small apartment. “C’mon. We’re going shopping.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Train to Musutafu, Japan.

Saturday, April 30, 2287,  1:40pm
 
Tensei was both happy, and terribly confused. He spent his time on the train staring down at the letter that Kenshin had left for him at his agency, and still wasn’t sure what to think. Two sheets of paper, one a newer, bright white with a hand written note, and the other a darker color, well folded and with the brittle crispness of age. The note was clear enough, just that Kenshin had stopped by to see him, and see how he was after last night's dinner. It continued; that Kenshin was thinking of him, and that he hoped that Tensei would be willing to have dinner, again, next time they could meet up. A nervous thrill swept through him at the thought, and settled with uneasiness somewhere in his stomach. The second paper with it, though, had him stumped. It was a poem, in English, which he evidently wasn’t as good at, as he had thought. He forced himself to dredge up those english lessons and nights of memorizing vocabulary.  If only he’d practiced more in the intervening years. He struggled through it again, trying to pick out words as well as he could.

Something

…. by Edgar Allen Poe - 
 
That part was obviously the title and name of the author, but for the life of him he couldn’t understand the word.
 
The

something

... name in

something’s

page,

The hand that

something something

rage;

A pleasing

something

whose page

something

…
 
This was hopeless. It definitely didn’t help that it was handwritten, and the letters were so flowing and flowery, nothing like typed font at all. More like the art calligraphy you’d see for Kanji. He despaired momentarily.  He used to be

good

at english, at least based on his grades.
 
Tensei glanced at his watch, and the station sign, when the next stop was announced on the tinny train speakers. The speaker to his left buzzed with every announcement in garbled tones. Still not there yet.  Maybe he could give Yamada a visit and get him to translate this for him?  With a deep sigh he skimmed to where he’d left off.

Something

the deepest knowledge of the mind; 
 
Not too bad, almost a full line, assuming he’d figured it out correctly -
 
A

something

poet of a foreign tongue…

Hah!

Maybe he could try the auto translate feature on his phone, but that would probably also be a disaster -
 
…(

Something

in the language that he sung.)

A

something

of

something

but

something

page 
 
Good gods, this was ..well, he got one word at least.
 
At once the

something

and

something

of our age,

The prince of

something

and

something

sense,

The

something something something

of

something

….
 
With a growl of frustration he dropped his hand with the page back to his lap, and startled a small jump out of the kid that was watching him from across the aisle. He winced in apology. Yeah. Giving up. He carefully folded the paper into the letter again, tucking it safely inside the chest plate of his hero uniform. He needed to get his mind onto this patrol, but he just kept thinking back over the last 24 hours, and re-reading the letter he seemed doomed not to be able to decipher. His mind continued to wander as he watched the scenery go by the train windows.
 
While visiting Kenshin in the hospital, Tensei had been invited to come along when he met up with his relatives, the Greens. The dinner had been last night, and surprisingly, had been a lot of fun. He had been expecting to just be a buffer between Kenshin and his distant relatives, but it turned into a very enjoyable evening. The Greens were actually a very entertaining couple, especially after a few drinks. Paul had met his wife Kami in London before they had married and immigrated to Japan.  Kami had been studying literature in London as a foreign student. Two years later, after they’d married, they decided to settle near Tokyo where she was from. Paul, while somehow related to

Uncle

Kenshin, obviously took after the English side of his family with the last name Green and his looks. How exactly the Greens were related to Kenshin was still a mystery. With time and rumination Tensei suspected these Greens were part of the same family as the painter, who’s artwork they’d retrieved from the temple as part of Kenshin’s belongings. 
 
In any case, the dinner was nice. A bit awkward at first, as meals between people who didn’t really know each other often were, but it soon became companionable as the evening went on. He thought they might end up closer friends with the kids, since they were closer in age, even though all of them, including the parents, called Kenshin their uncle. 
 
He’d met Doctor Ryu Green before, obviously, at the hospital before Kenshin had been released.  Both Ryu and his twin sister were pretty highly thought of in their respective fields, especially for only 24. Even he’d heard of Aimi’s artwork and galleries, and he didn’t spend a lot of time looking at art. Aimi Green was fairly famous for her artwork with imprinted emotion.  It literally allowed people to feel a particular emotion or set of emotions when viewing or touching the artwork.  
 
Tensei idly noted the sound of the speakers announcing another stop, and people getting on and off the train around him.  He relaxed back into his seat as the train doors closed and it jolted into motion, again.
 
Doctor Green (or Ryu as he had insisted), was working with Kenshin on a project related to his quirk, and had been very excited about it. He’d tried to explain for an hour or so while Tensei had been visiting, but he would freely admit that a lot of it was over his head. Long story short, as a quirk scientist and doctor, Kenshin’s quirk was like the holy grail of quirks. At least for studying. 
 
While he found quirk study interesting, Tensei was definitely more familiar with Ryu’s twin sister’s work. What he hadn’t known, and what the twins had been explaining at dinner, was that they’d branched out together into support equipment for therapy. They now had products including journals available that helped you be happy to write in them, and bracelets with feelings of belonging and peace infused, to combat minor depressive episodes--although Ryu insisted that medication and therapy would be better for major depressive disorder, while Aimi rolled her eyes, but agreed.
 
What he would never have guessed from their calm parents however, was how, when the twins were together, they were pure chaos.  
 
Tensei had spent a good portion of the evening, after dinner and drinks, laughing to himself at Kenshin. The other man had been getting dragged around to look at various things and pictures, and he’d been talked into a drinking contest by Ryu to see how his quirk affected his ability to get drunk--not that Kenshin really needed the excuse. He seemingly hadn’t noticed that Aimi kept refilling his glass when his back was turned, although Tensei suspected that he knew. Regardless, drunk Kenshin was very funny.
 
In all aspects of the evening, Kenshin seemed to love it, thriving in the family environment and openly and genuinely happy in a way that Tensei had rarely seen him. Perhaps he’d have to invite them all over sometime, and see how they did with his little brother.
 
And for that dinner, unlike last night, Kenshin hopefully wouldn’t be stabbed by a fork.
 
The train speaker garbled out another stop, buzzing him from his thoughts and bringing his attention back to the world around him. With a start of realization, he noted that this was

his

exit, and he quickly stood up and joined the press of those leaving the train. Once out into the station, he carefully waded his way through the crowd and to the escalator, down to the main city street level.
 
As Tensei stepped out of the overhang, and into daylight, he glanced at his watch and pulled his phone out to connect to his helmet. Taking one last look at his surroundings, he settled the helmet over his head, completing his hero uniform and readying himself for patrol. 
 
“Contact Itaden,” he waited for the beep and continued “ -do you copy?  This is Ingenium, checking in. Sending location now and starting patrol.” He pushed the hidden button on the side of his vambrace and waited for confirmation.
 
“Copy Ingenium, location marked. You are O.K. to start patrol.” The response from his agency came through clearly over his helmet communicator. With a deep breath, he cleared his mind bringing his hero persona up around himself with determination. Then, he set off down the street at a relaxed pace. 
  
Musutafu Central Mall, Musutafu, Japan.

Saturday, April 30, 2287,  3:30pm
 
“Alright kid,” Dabi said, “this is how we’re doing this.”
 
They were standing off to the side of Musutafu Central Mall’s doors, away from the camera where they couldn’t be seen or heard, and both dressed in inconspicuous clothing. Toga, begrudgingly, had agreed to wear one of his dark hoodies, and had forgone her distinct hairstyle. Dabi, on the other hand, had gone full hungover-popstar-- sunglasses, facemask, hoodie. He’d remove the sunglasses when they went inside, obviously, but for now, the extra layer of security was important.
 
“You ever stolen clothes?” He asked quietly, and Toga shook her head. 
 
“No.. uh, will that be a problem?”
 
“It might be,” Dabi admitted, but shook his head. “No, we can do this- first things first, never go for expensive clothes. Always go for the kind of generic things that they have a million of. Second,” he reaches into his pocket, and hands her a small ball of tin foil. She takes it hesitantly. “If you want something with a security tag on it, make sure it can fit, by itself, into that little purse of yours. You have that wallet and the extra shirt I gave you?”
 
“Yes!” She says, proudly holding up the little panda wallet he’d…

found

for her.
 
“Good. Okay, the thing with the security tag, go into the changing room with that, wrap the tag in tin foil, stick it in your purse, and put the extra shirt on the hanger if they count how many things you go in with. Go to the register, buy a single,

cheap

shirt, and

do not

get a receipt. With me so far?”
 
Toga nods eagerly. “Yes. Tin foil, tag, cheap shirt, no receipt.”
 
“Cool. Once you’re done, that tin foil will keep the tag from triggering censors. Put the thing in your bag with the cheap shirt, and if security stops you, say you didn’t get a receipt. Capiche?” Dabi grabs both of her shoulders, shaking her slightly. If she got caught, he literally couldn’t do anything. “I’ll be with you, most of the time, okay?”
 
“Okay!” Toga cheered. “Roll out!” 
 
“...No?” 
 
But she had already skipped through the doors.

Musutafu Central Mall was a large shopping complex with a revolving door of stores, franchises, and cheap food. It was

loud

, as always, and as Dabi hurried through the doors, he nearly didn’t notice that Toga had frozen in place, and ran into her back.
 
“Kid!” He said, on reflex, but she was too busy gaping.
 
“I’ve never been in a mall before!” She said excitedly. “What--”
 
That was depressing, but Dabi didn’t have time for therapy hour, today. “Don’t stab anyone,” He interrupted, “Walk like normal. And don’t

stare--

most people your age have been in a mall before, so if you’re overwhelmed do your best to make it look like it's about a sale. Or something.”
 
“What’s a sale?”
 
Dabi sighed. This was going to be a disaster.  
 
She continued on after a moment, and he followed at a more sedate pace. Her head was still whipping around to look at everything, but even he could admit it looked like she was just excited to shop. When she paused at the fountain in the main courtyard, bouncing in place, he took the opportunity to look around, himself. He’d seen a lot of teenagers around the second floor, before, so that’s where she’d be less suspicious. Probably. 
 
“Okay,” He started, catching her attention again. He nodded his head towards the directory, and then the escalator. “I think most of your friends shop at Uniqlo, and there’s a Zara around the corner. I’ll go get us some food and meet you back here.” Toga nodded, thankfully understanding the “casual code” he’d made up on the spot.
 
“What if someone dies?” She questioned genuinely. “Do we meet somewhere else?”
 
“...Are you planning on killing anyone?” She thought for a moment, but Dabi lifted a hand before she could answer. “Nevermind. Just, meet me here. If anyone dies, pull the fire alarm, or something. I’ll come find you.” That works as an “oh shit” signal, right? 
 
Toga just nods and trots off, and he stares after her until he’s (mostly) certain she won't immediately start stabbing anyone. Then, he turns on his heel and begins to meander over to the food court.
 
What he should do is head to the other end of the mall and get some food from the Family Mart grocery, downstairs. What he’s going to do instead is spend his hard earned money on an extra large bowl of cheap yakisoba for him and Toga to share. There should be some left over, if he doesn’t get any sides, and the servings at this place are huge. That’s smart spending, he thought. Besides, he’s hungry right now, and everyone knows you shouldn’t grocery shop on an empty stomach.
 
Right.

It was significantly later by the time he got to the front of the line. Toga was probably done by now, he thought, as long as she didn’t get caught. Hopefully, she didn’t get bored and wander off. 
 
As he stepped to the front of the line, ready to order, the world exploded. Someone came crashing through the outside wall, followed by broken plaster and glass. The person who’d been thrown through the wall, definitely a hero, groaned. 
 
Someone behind Dabi screamed, “Villain attack!” And from there, it was chaos. 
 
People rushing to get away from the hero and the villains almost pulled Dabi into the stampede. He managed to wiggle away and put his back to a pillar, just in time to see the villain in question, a tall man with a lizard-like mutant quirk, come through the hole he’d just made with the hero’s body.
 
An enterprising teenager darted past the villain and out of the hole in the wall. The villain, who Dabi now recognised as Salamanda, let the kid pass without a word. Smoke rising from his nostrils, he descended on the hero.
 
The hero, a man made of wood, struggled to get up. One of his arms was slowly regrowing, buds and flowers falling off as he pushed himself to heal faster. Salamanda was almost upon him when he finally managed to stand.
 
“All these new, puny heroes--” The lizard-man scoffed, “I almost defeated Endeavor once, you know? And they have the audacity to send a

stick

after me.”
 
“Well, villain,” The wood-based hero croaked, standing up straight and clenching his newly-grown fist. “A stick I may be, but at least I don’t hurt children in an effort to… compensate for something.”
 
Salamanda roared. The barely-standing hero was thrown into the pillar next to Dabi’s, crumbling it where it stood. The hero groaned, but got up again, throwing up a wall of branches with surprising quickness when Salamanda went to throw fire at the civilians nearby. While the hero was distracted, however, the villain pressed his advantage, punching him in his visor. The hero, already struggling to stand, went down like a sack of bricks.
 
“I’m going to enjoy this,” Salamanda grinned. He raised his scaled fist, fire engulfing his claws.
 
Dabi moved without thinking.

Toga had been window shopping for quite a while, bags of her “purchases” clutched in one hand.  At first she’d waited, patiently kicking her feet against the bench near the fountain, but then there was a kid with a really cool looking thing on his hat, and she wanted a closer look.  After that she’d spotted a pretzel place giving out little samples, and she was sooo hungry, and she knew she needed to be in the courtyard when Dabi got back so they could eat, but then she saw this cool machine…Standing in front of a candy store, watching the taffy machine pull the stringy candy in a long loop, Toga doesn't know what to do when the alarms start going off.  She’d been through villain attack drills at her school, but that was such a

looong

time ago, and this wasn’t her school.  The repetitive blaring of the alarm mixed with the panicked noises of shoppers as they rush in seemingly random directions.

Why had she left the courtyard?

She needed to find Dabi! 
 
She turned to run back toward the courtyard, and almost immediately had been pushed aside by panicked shoppers.  Toga leaned back against the wall for a moment to avoid getting trampled, then as soon as she pushed out again to make a break for the exit, she’d almost been knocked down.  A man with water for hair rushed past, knocking at least one other person over, carrying an armful of what looked like electronics. 
 
“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” She yelled after him. He either didn’t hear her, or chose not to respond.  She pushed her way a couple of steps into the crowd, and reached down to help a lady who was beginning to stand up, when they’re hit by another shockwave.  Something exploded behind them, closer to the hallway the man had rushed in from. Glass and rubble peppered against her back and the side of her face as she ducked and threw up her arms to ineffectually block the debris still falling. Her bags pulled against her hand uncomfortably, and she felt something impact and tear the bag closest to her side. The lady she had helped up staggered away. Toga was surrounded by people rushing or cowering, and she didn't know which way to go.  
 
The fire alarm started up in a horrible harmony to the villain alert, and Toga stood again, turning, as someone yelled “Watch out!” right before cold metal arms scooped her up, and out of the path of a chunk of falling concrete. The breath was knocked out of her. Toga could see the concrete block that would have hit her on the ground, before it was blocked by people rushing to get away from the fire. She clung to the man who had grabbed her, shopping bags from her purchases and her purse bouncing against their sides. The man, who had to be a hero, rushed at almost impossible speed through the crowd down the hall. Suddenly, she was let down.  She scarcely had time to blink before her feet were on the ground and he’s disentangled her grip from his armor. In no time at all, she’s away from the fire and somewhere else.
 
The doorway they are standing beside has a flashing light above it, identifying it as a villain shelter. “Inside, quick!” he tells her, voice slightly mechanical because of his helmet, and blinking, she thanked him as he rushed back out and into the active fight. She’d been saved by a hero! She stumbled inside, mind a bit foggy and ears still ringing from the earlier blast. As she entered the shelter, another explosion rattled the walls off in the direction she came from, and she rushed over to hide beside a desk with another girl about her age. 
 
Toga looked around once she’d caught her breath. She wiped the dust from her eyes, smearing a bit of blood from the stinging scratches on her face. Her hands were still shaking. It seemed relatively safe here beside the other girl, who didn’t seem afraid so much as nervous. There were other groups of shoppers and vendors huddling together around the small room. A couple of people were handing out water, and one was digging through first aid supplies near a crying baby. 
 
Without warning, another detonation went off near the still open doorway. Toga couldn’t help but cower and threw her arms up again to try to protect herself, but the girl next to her jumped up and pushed her hands out toward the debris coming through the doorway.  A moment later Toga realized nothing had hit her, and she lowered her arms cautiously. The girl, wide-eyed, had her arms outstretched and a shimmery opening to nowhere blocked the view of the door. Toga’s mouth dropped open as she realized the circular opening floating in the air had blocked the debris from reaching anyone inside.  People around them started to relax again, some called out their amazement and thanks. The girl was still standing there, staring at the doorway, shaking, arms extended and frozen. 
 
“Ah…” Toga reached out and gently grasped the teen’s wrist, “It’s ok. You blocked it! You can let go now?”  She definitely wasn’t used to comforting other people.
 
Blinking back to herself, the girl kind-of sank against Toga’s side and focused on her, instead.  “Right.” The portal disappeared. “This is scarier than I expected.” The girl mumbled to herself. Toga hugged her new best friend and tried to be supportive.

That's what normal people do, right?

“I’m Toga.” She introduced herself after they’d been clinging to each other for a few minutes.  She guided them back over to the chairs near the desk, and they both sank to the floor rather than separating.  “Are you ok? Did you get hurt? I don’t smell any blood so I think you’re ok?” 
 
The dark haired, athletically-built girl just laughed with a slightly rough edge and asked without fear, “You can smell blood?”
  
Unknown Location, Japan

2287, Time Unknown
 
“Sir, the attacks have begun as planned.”
 
“Excellent…And the good Doctor has begun his new project?”
 
“Yes, sir. Just this morning.”
 
“Hmm. Good. Inform our allies in the Commission: the next phase… begins now.”