Two days had passed since Kael Ishiro's brutal defeat.
The city's underworld buzzed with rumors. A vigilante had been prowling the alleys and forgotten streets, taking quirks from criminals who used their powers selfishly. But now word had spread: someone had beaten him. And not just anyone—a monster of a fighter, someone who seemed to know how Kael fought before he even struck.
Kael sat slumped against the brick wall behind his aunt's bakery, his breaths sharp, shallow, and pained. The air was thick with the scent of yeast and cooling bread from the vents above, oddly comforting despite the tremors that still wracked his body. He had escaped Ryken's relentless assault using Darkbind's shadows, slipping between the flickering lamplight and melting into the dark. Only then had he managed to collapse into this familiar alley.
"A close call…" he muttered, pressing trembling fingers to his ribs. Cracked, at least two of them. His entire torso ached. Darkbind's tendrils twitched faintly at his fingertips, more exhausted than responsive.
Kael's eyes flicked toward the street beyond the alley, always alert. Ryken had moved like lightning, like he'd studied Kael. He wasn't just another revenge-driven thug—he was tactical. He was prepared. And worst of all, he'd known where to find him.
"How the hell did he know where I'd be?"
He gritted his teeth. His hunting ground hadn't been a secret—but not many knew the exact alleys he preferred. Unless…
His mind drifted to Yuto. One of the few Kael had reluctantly trusted during his vigilante work. Yuto had looked up to him. But something had changed in him that day i told him about my Quirk, BalanceKeeper—he'd become withdrawn, asking too many questions about its capabilities, and what quirks ive 'stolen' so far.
"Did you tell him, Yuto?" Kael whispered bitterly. He didn't want to believe it. But the timing made too much sense.
After a painful climb to his feet, Kael dragged himself inside through the back door of the bakery. His aunt's spare keys still hung in their hidden spot behind a loose brick. The basement training room had become a sanctuary—a forge where he honed Darkbind until it no longer lashed out against him.
Now, it was where he would recover.
Aunt Nari found him there a few hours later, wrapped in bandages, resting in a meditative kneel amid the dust and old training mats.
"Kael," she said softly. "You look like hell."
"I lost," he said simply.
She came closer, her eyes kind but sharp. "You'll lose again. That's how it goes. What matters is how you bounce back from it."
"I know." He looked up at her, his dark eyes lit with shadowy flickers. "But this guy… he was trained. I don't think he was just some angry street punk."
Nari crouched beside him and handed him a steaming mug of something sweet-smelling. "Tea. And you're right. Whoever he was, he was prepared."
"Do you think someone told him where I'd be?"
She didn't answer right away. Then: "I think the moment you stepped into the world of shadows, you started casting long ones. People notice shadows. Even people you think are your allies."
Kael took a long sip of tea. "I need to be stronger."
"You already are. But strength without understanding gets you killed."
…
The next evening, Kael returned to his quirk journal—a logbook he'd created to track the quirks he'd taken, studied, and mastered or discarded. It was time to add the newest one, even if it hadn't saved him.
Flashstep
Type: Movement Quirk
Description: Allows the user to momentarily vanish and reappear within a short distance, effectively teleporting within a 20-meter radius. Leaves behind a faint afterimage that can confuse opponents.
Strength: Near-instant relocation, high-speed evasive maneuvering. Excellent for surprise attacks and dodging.
Flaw: Precision is difficult; repeated use causes extreme dizziness and nausea. Not usable for sustained combat unless mastered.
Kael closed the journal and leaned back, staring at the dark ceiling. Flashstep had saved him—barely. He tried incorporating it into his attacks, but wasn't able to due to the simple fact of him receiving it just hours before. He needed better control. He needed everything better.
For the next few days, Kael hunted again.
He moved with purpose now—scouting back alleys, abandoned buildings, and darkened transit stations. The thugs he encountered were small-time—wannabe villains with weak quirks, inflated egos, and cruel intentions.
One had a Quirk that made his fingernails razor-sharp and extendable. Another could spit adhesive gel that hardened like cement. Kael didn't hesitate. He fought them, overpowered them using refined Darkbind tendrils and battlefield strategy—and when he defeated them, he used Balancekeeper.
He reached out.
He took.
The quirks flickered into his arsenal, logged and stored—many to be discarded, some to be studied. None of them filled the void that Ryken had left behind.
But Kael wasn't collecting for power anymore. Not just for power. He was collecting for the day when Ryken came back.
One night, after a brutal fight against a thug with a bone-plating Quirk, Kael stood on a rooftop, bloodied but victorious. The city lights shimmered in the distance. The weight of his journey pressed on his shoulders—but so did purpose.
"I'm not a hero," he whispered to the stars. "Not yet. But I won't stop."
His hand opened, and shadow tendrils danced in his palm like living smoke.
"This power… I'll use it to take away the strength of those who hurt others. Even if no one sees it. Even if it means becoming someone the world fears."
…
Back at the bakery, Aunt Nari patched him up again, muttering about his bruises and torn jacket.
"You keep this up, you're going to be bones and scars by the time you turn twenty."
Kael smiled faintly. "At least I'll be ready."
"Ready for what?"
"For whatever comes next."
She studied him for a moment, then handed him a plate of dumplings—her Quirk had lightly seasoned them without touching a thing. "Eat. You'll need your strength. You're walking a path that doesn't let you stop."
And somewhere else in the city, Ryken stood alone beneath a shattered streetlight, looking at the alley where he'd last seen Kael vanish into darkness.
"He's not ready," Ryken said to no one. "But he will be. I have to capture him as soon as possible. Or else he'll pose a threat even All For One would fear."
In his pocket, he held a scrap of paper with Kael's name.
And behind that name… a trail of taken Quirks that the world was beginning to whisper about.