The room stank of rusted iron and sweat. Faint flickers of orange light bled through a single swinging bulb, casting grotesque shadows that stretched across cracked concrete walls. Chains clinked as the barely-conscious man hanging from them twitched.
Voidflare was unrecognizable.
His hero suit was shredded, skin split and mottled with bruises. Blood caked his face, and a blindfold—so soaked through it had long dried solid—obscured his eyes. Cuts across his ribs oozed with each breath. His arms, stretched taut above him, trembled as if gravity itself was trying to tear him in two.
A hand—a clawed, ash-gray one—struck him across the jaw.
"Wake up, hero."
Voidflare didn't answer. He couldn't. His lips had split in too many places to form words.
Another blow landed. Then a spark. Then pain.
An unseen villain chuckled from the darkness. "Still breathing. That's the third round today. You Heroes sure are durable."
Behind him, a woman with glowing palms pressed her hands against his side. Flesh knit. Bones shifted. Voidflare's agonized groan was muffled by the blindfold and his swollen jaw.
"Don't heal him too much," another villain muttered. "The slightest sliver of hope will make him retaliate."
Heavy boots crunched glass and gravel as someone entered the room. The torturers fell quiet, kneeling to the ground.
From the shadows emerged a man dressed in tattered gray formalwear, the number 9 emblazoned in scarlet across his right forearm. He walked with calm purpose, dragging a small table behind him, upon which sat an old, reinforced camera. He crouched before it and adjusted the angle, focusing it squarely on Voidflare's mangled form.
The villains backed away, giving him the room.
"Gentlemen," the man said, voice smooth and steady, "we're about to make history."
Click.
The camera's red light blinked to life.
He turned toward Voidflare. "You may not be able to hear me, but they can."
The man looked directly into the lens.
"All across the world—heroes, civilians, governments, children—you know this man. A symbol of power. Of pride. Of fire."
He gestured to the broken body behind him.
"This is what your symbols become when they are left unguarded."
Screens flickered on around the world. In Tokyo, in New York, in London, in Cairo. Train stations, storefronts, hero agencies. The feed was everywhere. The image of Voidflare's battered body drew horrified gasps from passersby. News anchors froze mid-sentence as their monitors shifted without warning.
"But he's not why we're here," the man continued. "No. This is merely the bait."
He stepped closer to the camera now. Shadows rippled unnaturally behind him.
"We know you're watching, Equinox, or should we say Kael Ishiro, student at U.A, class 1-A."
The name dropped like a weight.
"In another time, you were a whisper—a myth dancing in back alleys, plucking Quirks like feathers from frightened birds. Some praised you. Some feared you. But All For One… he remembered you. And he wants you dead."
The Villain raised his marked arm and smiled.
"And he knows what Voidflare means to you."
He circled behind the barely conscious man, placing a hand atop Voidflare's blood-matted hair.
"Perhaps he was your mentor. Your guardian. Or just another hero who saw promise in the younger generation. Regardless, if you care even a little—then you'll come."
He knelt beside the hero's limp frame.
"Come, Equinox. Step out into the light. The world deserves to see its phantom. If you want him to live… surrender yourself. Or he dies."
The camera zoomed in on Voidflare's face—swollen, bruised, barely human. Then it cut back to the villain.
"You have three days. You know exactly where to find us."
The feed cut.
Silence. For a second, nothing moved.
Then the villain turned back to the others in the room. "Prepare the next phase. If he doesn't come willingly…Well, we'll see how much he cares about that family of his."
Voidflare remained motionless, barely breathing.
And far away, in a quiet hospital garden under a dusk-touched sky, Kael Ishiro's eyes snapped open—his chest heaving.
A chill crept down his spine.
Something… was wrong.
…
Kael sat quietly on the edge of his hospital bed, the fabric of his gown rustling faintly as he exhaled through his nose. The soft hum of machinery, the occasional beeping of monitors, and the muffled chatter of nurses outside served as the only reminders he was still in recovery. The physical pain had dulled, but the weight on his chest hadn't left.
'They really just make us walk around with our bare ass cheeks out."
A soft knock tapped at the door before it opened slightly.
"Kael?" came the familiar voice of the nurse who had been tending to him these past few days. She stepped inside with a gentle smile, a clipboard in hand. "There's someone who'd like to speak with you, if you're feeling up to it. A detective."
Kael glanced at her and gave a small nod, his mind already preparing for what he knew was coming. "Alright."
She gave him a look — one of both encouragement and concern — before offering her hand to help him up. He took it, steadying himself on his feet as he grabbed the cane resting beside his bed. With slow, careful steps, she led him out of the room and down the quiet, sterile halls of the hospital.
They stopped in front of a door at the far end of a long corridor. She opened it and gestured for him to go in.
"They're waiting for you. I'll be right outside if you need anything."
Kael gave her a brief nod and stepped inside.
The room was small, lit by warm fluorescent lights. A table sat in the center with four chairs — three of which were already occupied.
Aizawa sat with his arms crossed, the bandages around his face and arms a stark reminder of the brutal fight he had endured. Beside him, All Might stood in his muscular form, expression unreadable. Across the table, Detective Tsukauchi adjusted a folder as he looked up to meet Kael's eyes.
Kael lowered himself into the empty chair without a word. The silence in the room pressed heavy on his shoulders.
Tsukauchi was the first to speak.
"Kael Ishiro. Thank you for coming. I know these last few days have been a living nightmare for you."
Kael gave a faint nod, his hands folded in his lap.
"We'd like to hear your account of what happened at the USJ," the detective continued. "From the moment you arrived until… the end."
Kael took a breath and began, his voice steady but quiet.
"We arrived at USJ around 10am on a bus. It was supposed to be a rescue training exercise… that's what Thirteen was explaining. But before anything started, a black portal thing opened in the middle of the plaza. Villains started pouring out one by one, calling themselves the League of Villains. Said they were here to kill All Might and tie up other loose ends."
He paused, his fingers gripping his cane tighter.
"Aizawa-sensei stepped in first. Right after that, we were all scattered by warp gates. I landed in the mountains. Alone."
He looked up slightly, locking eyes with Tsukauchi.
"There were villains there. They attacked me, but I took them down quickly."
Aizawa furrowed his brow.
"And then?" Tsukauchi pressed.
Kael hesitated, voice quieter now.
"That's when it showed up. The Nomu. Big… powerful. The moment I saw it, I knew it wasn't just muscle. It was made to kill heroes and I was in its way."
He looked down at the floor.
"The fight wasn't short. I remember how it moved. How fast and brutal it was. I tried everything. It was stronger than anything I'd fought before. But eventually… I killed it."
The silence returned for a beat too long. Kael looked up again, his voice clearer.
"I don't regret it. If I hadn't… I'd be dead. And a lot of others would be too."
Aizawa's voice came low, but sharp.
"How did you kill it, Kael?"
Kael held his breath a moment before exhaling.
"I used one of my Quirks. A last-ditch one."
All Might narrowed his eyes. "One of…?"
Kael's eyes didn't waver. "I know you've all reviewed the footage and already saw my battle. So you don't have to play pretend. I've been hiding the truth. And now I'm ready to come clean."
He looked at all three men in the room before speaking clearly.
"My real Quirk is called BalanceKeeper. It allows me to take the Quirks of others. I can store them, use them, or give them to someone else. I awakened it on my twelfth birthday."
The weight of his words dropped heavy in the room.
"I never registered it. I submitted a false Quirk under my name — Shadow Tether. Something simple. I… didn't want anyone to know what I could really do."
Aizawa leaned forward slightly, expression unreadable.
"That's not all, is it?"
Kael shook his head.
"I used to operate under the alias, Equinox. The vigilante from two and a half years ago who vanished one day and never returned. I operated for six months, taking down a few crime syndicates, traffickers, murderers, rapist, you name it. I took their Quirks, and in doing so, I believe I stopped crimes in my prefecture for a month straight. I had to stop them. No one else could. They evaded Heroes and the justice system for far too long. I had to do something. I had to. With the power to change one's future and fate, I decided to change everyone's."
Tsukauchi's fingers tightened around his pen. "You realize this is a confession. Unauthorized use of a Quirk. Vigilantism. Identity fraud. There are serious consequences for—"
"I know," Kael said, cutting in calmly. "I didn't come here to avoid punishment. I take full responsibility."
All Might raised a hand, eyes still locked on Kael. "Then why now? Why tell us all this?"
Kael closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, his voice was steady.
"Because I want to fix the world. And I believe with your help All Might, I could do it."
The room held its breath.
"I hate how people are judged by their Quirks. How someone can be born with power and think it gives them the right to terrorize others. And how the powerless… the quirkless… are treated like trash."
A small crack formed in his voice.
"I wanted to build a world where everyone was equal. Where Quirks didn't define a person's worth. So I started small. Quiet. Doing what I could in the shadows. But now… I know the villains are watching me. The League. Others. They were after me as well, not just you All Might."
He looked at All Might now, face raw with emotion.
"I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me. But I won't stop trying to fix what's broken."
A silence fell. Aizawa sat back, processing. Tsukauchi didn't write another word.
And All Might — though his towering figure remained firm — had something in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
Not suspicion. Not judgment.
But understanding.
…