Chapter Text
The first rays of dawn stretched across the horizon when she stirred awake. Pale light filtered through her lashes, and as she blinked into consciousness, strands of black and white hair slipped across her face, tickling her skin. She brushed them away with clumsy fingers, only to wince, her head throbbed, heavy and uncooperative. Sitting up took effort, like dragging herself through mud.
Perception: Footsteps. Soft, deliberate. Someone is approaching.
Authority: Get up. Now. Sitting there makes you a target. Weak, vulnerable.
She forced herself upright, spine stiff, and turned toward the sound. From the path ahead, a small creature padded into view: a mouse or perhaps a bear? Four feet tall, wearing a waistcoat and the kind of sharp, analytical gaze that seemed to see through skin and bone.
It regarded her calmly before speaking.
“Are you alright? You look… lost.”
“I—” Her throat seized, and a rough cough broke her words in two. The creature waited, patient, unreadable. She swallowed, tried again. “I don’t quite know. Could I ask… where am I?”
“You’re at U.A.,” it replied, voice smooth as porcelain. “I saw you on the security feed and came to check whether you were well.”
Her brows pinched together. “What’s U.A.?”
A flicker of surprise touched the creature’s features. “You truly don’t know? U.A. is the most prestigious hero academy in Japan.”
She tilted her head, confusion genuine. “Hero school? Like… in comic books?”
This time the creature said nothing at first, merely studying her as if turning over the puzzle in its mind. Then, with a small motion, it extended a paw.
“Why don’t you come to my office? We can talk more comfortably there. Do you like tea?”
The walk was slow. Her body was steadier now, though a lingering fog clung to the edges of her thoughts. By the time they reached his office, she had collected herself enough to move without stumbling. She sank into a chair opposite his desk, the faint aroma of polished wood and oolong filling the air.
“I’ll need to contact the police,” the creature, Nedzu, she later learned, said as he reached for the phone. “To see if you’re linked to a case, or a missing persons report.”
Empathy: He hopes you aren’t. You’re far more interesting as an unknown, something that resists categorization. His kindness is not kindness. It’s curiosity dressed in fur.
Suggestion: Feed the intrigue. Keep yourself mysterious. If you’re solved too quickly, you’re discarded and you’ll be back to square one.
“I’m not sure I’ve even left square one,” she muttered under her breath.
Nedzu’s ears flicked toward her, his gaze sharpening. But when she lowered her eyes to her feet, pretending she hadn’t spoken, he let it go.
The call connected. On the other end, a detective claimed she was a foreign investigator sent to Musutafu. But the file that arrived was incomplete: a photograph and nothing more. No personal details. No case notes. All else had been corrupted.
When Nedzu returned to his desk, he studied her in silence for a long moment. His small paws folded, ears twitching as if catching an unheard rhythm.
“Kuro… it seems you have no accessible history. And yet, you’re aware, articulate, capable. Unusual.” His black eyes gleamed. “I think it would be best if you remain here at U.A. You can stay under the cover of a student, while we treat you as the professional you are. How does that sound?”
Suggestion: Mission success.
Logic: Shelter secured. Food, safety, information. Accept.
She hesitated, tasting the weight of the choice, then gave a single nod. “I’d like that very much. Thank you for your hospitality.”
Nedzu’s teeth showed in a satisfied smile. “Perfect. I’ll convene the staff in an hour.”
The staff room gradually filled, one familiar face after another taking their seats, the homeroom teacher of Class 1-A, the school nurse, and several other members of U.A.’s faculty. The low murmur of conversation dwindled as Principal Nedzu hopped up onto his chair, paws folded neatly before him.
“Good morning, everyone!” His voice was bright, clipped, but carried weight. “I’ve called this meeting because an unusual situation has arisen. A new member will be joining us here at U.A.”
Several teachers exchanged puzzled glances. Nedzu’s beady black eyes narrowed with a sharp, mischievous gleam.
“She will not be a teacher,” he went on, “nor exactly a student. This young woman is a detective, sent here from abroad. To aid her investigation in Musutafu, I’ve arranged for her to live under the cover of a student.”
Vlad King leaned forward first, brows drawn together. “A detective undercover as a student? Wouldn’t the age difference be a little obvious?”
Nedzu shook his furry head, whiskers twitching. “Not at all. In fact…” He turned toward the door. “Kuro, would you like to come in?”
The door creaked open. A young woman stepped through, measured and composed despite the dozens of curious eyes that fell on her. She took the only empty seat at the table and offered a polite nod.
“Good morning, everyone. My name is Kuro. As you’ve already heard, I’m a detective. I look forward to working alongside you, and I hope we can get along.”
“Thank you, Kuro.” Nedzu’s tone softened, though the glint in his gaze did not. “Before I let you all return to your duties, there is one more thing you must be aware of. She suffers from complete amnesia. Everything before this morning is gone, whether through injury or quirk, we do not yet know. Please answer any questions she may have as best you can.”
The room shifted uncomfortably, but Nedzu pressed on. “I expect each of you to extend her the respect due to a professional colleague. However, if students are present, treat her as one of them to maintain her cover. That will be all. Aizawa, if you could show Kuro to the dorms?”
Chairs scraped back as the faculty dispersed. Kuro rose as well, waiting patiently by the door for Aizawa, who was detained by the chatter of a tall blond man with boundless energy practically radiating from him.
Conceptualisation: Big voice, bigger presence. A personality engineered for the spotlight. Celebrity, entertainer, someone built to stand out in every crowd.
The man turned to her with a wide grin, extending a hand. “Great to meet ya! Name’s Present Mic. Never met a detective as young as you before, gotta be a record, right?”
Perception: Aizawa shows no interest: slouched, eyes half-lidded. But see the subtle lean, the tilt of his head. He’s listening. He wants the answer just as much as the rest of them.
Kuro clasped Present Mic’s hand lightly, returning his grin with a small one of her own. “I wouldn’t know,” she replied with a dry edge of humor. “I just know that when the station told me I was a detective…it felt right.”
“Could I ask you some questions on the way to the dorms?” Kuro asked, sliding a notepad and pen from the inside pocket of her jacket. The gesture was deliberate, almost ritualistic—the pen clicked into place between her fingers like an extension of her own thoughts.
Present Mic lit up at once. “Sure thing! Fire away, detective. What do ya wanna know?”
They started walking, the three of them falling into step down the long, echoing corridor. Fluorescent lights hummed faintly above, buzzing in and out like insects. Outside the tall windows, the sun had risen higher, spilling warm strips of light across the polished floors.
Perception: Aizawa’s gait is off. Subtle, but wrong. He carries himself differently than before. His right arm hangs closer to his chest, as though guarding it. His hair shadows his face, but not enough to hide the scar cutting beneath his eye, healed, but recent. Seven… maybe eight days old at most.
Logic: That isn’t the kind of scar you get from tripping down the stairs. The depth of it speaks of violence. Precision. A fight, not an accident.
Shivers: The world shifts. A man pinned beneath a nightmare, a monster stitched together from human limbs and stolen flesh. Its weight collapses him, bone grinding into bone. He closes his eyes and accepts death in that moment, body broken, blood mixing with dirt. The air is filled with the scent of rot, of inevitability. He survives, but he will never walk the same way again.
Suggestion: Don’t ask. Not yet. Leave the wound alone, or you risk reopening it.
Kuro blinked, dragging herself back from the creeping vision. Present Mic’s voice cut through the silence, bright and grounding. “So, what’s your first question?”
She tapped her pen against the page, steadying her thoughts. “Has anyone been acting strangely since last week’s events?”
That earned her a look. Not just from Present Mic, Aizawa’s tired gaze flicked toward her too, the faintest shift of interest behind the exhaustion. For a moment neither spoke, as though deciding silently who should answer. Then Present Mic cleared his throat.
“Nedzu told you about the USJ?”
Her brow furrowed. “USJ?”
“Yeah, the big training facility. There was… an incident there last week. A fight. I figured that’s what you were referring to.”
Kuro slowed her steps. “Nedzu didn’t tell me anything about a fight. But—” her voice dropped lower, almost hesitant, “were there… large beasts? Things that looked like they were made of multiple people?”
The air changed. Present Mic stopped mid-step, his grin faltering. A beat of silence passed, long enough for the echo of their footsteps to die in the hall. Finally, his voice came quieter, stripped of its usual bravado. “Yeah. There were. How the hell do you know that? How do you even know there was a fight?”
Kuro’s eyes lifted to Aizawa. Calm. Clinical. She pointed her pen at him, voice steady. “Aizawa recently had his arm out of a cast. Standard recovery: about a week before it comes off. And the wound under his eye, that’s still fresh. Deep enough that it can only be seven or eight days old. Which means he sustained those injuries at the start of last week. Monday, maybe Tuesday.”
She clicked the pen once, the sound sharp in the stillness. “Therefore… a battle.”
Aizawa said nothing. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, unreadable, before drifting forward again. Present Mic gave a low whistle, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well damn,” he muttered. “I’m not surprised Nedzu asked you to stay. You’re sharp. A little unsettling, but sharp.” His grin returned, though thinner this time, tinged with caution. “Anyway… here we are.”
Kuro’s head lifted. Without realizing it, she had followed them all the way across the campus. A sprawling building loomed ahead, modern and clean, sunlight glinting off its wide windows. The dorms.
Inland Empire: These walls will contain your new life. A cocoon of steel and glass. Inside, laughter, suspicion, rivalry, friendship. Strangers who will one day be allies—or enemies.
Logic: Question time is over. Observation will take its place.
She slipped the notepad back into her jacket. “So it is,” she murmured.
The path ended at the front steps. Beyond them, voices carried faintly through the open windows—students stirring, preparing for their day. Kuro tightened her grip on her pen for a final moment before tucking it away completely.
It was time to meet them.