Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A heavy blanket of silence consumed the room of pro heroes, nothing becoming the loudest sound in the room. Yokohama, the city at the centre of the discussion. Closed off from the world since the appearance of quirks. 

“Should the students be leaving the school so close to the last incident? Surely, they can’t guarantee the safety of the class when a whole school can’t do that.” Nemuri Kayama, pro-hero Midnight’s face contorted in a look of worry and confusion. The person in question, Principal Nezu simply smiled, eyes twinkling in knowledge that no other in the room knew. 

Aizawa Shouta, pro-hero Eraserhead, who had remained quiet observing the other heroes’ reactions, turned to get a better look at Nezu, one question burning in his head. “How did you get the offer with the city? We would be there for more than a couple of weeks.”  

Said principal just continued to sip on his tea patiently waiting doe the rest to calm down.  

“An old friend had reached out to me with an arrangement by the request of one of his work colleagues.” He answered only adding to the overflowing questions in all of them. 

That had sparked the curiosity of many of the heroes, the principal was acquainted with people within the isolated city? No one had any contact with people within expect for the few heroes and government workers that had tried to get in only to returning doubting themselves, others and the system. Along with the villains that had found a way on the inside of the barrier only to either not return or return nonsensical bundles of jittery messes. 

“You can’t send the students there!” To the surprise of everyone Usagiyama Rumi, Mirko protested. “That city has the highest crime rate in the world and has been under the control of the mafia since we had access to it!” 

The response was an almost immediate uproar of shock and anger.“ Those students won’t be safe! No matter what your friend can claim!” Nezu turned to look over at Usagiyama, slowly lowering his tea cup onto the saucer. 

“They have come up with a list of agreements that we are to follow should we wish to leave a good impression on the city and return later,” Nezu lifted a folded letter, cutting off any further interruptions. 

    "1. Quirks are to be used only when accompanied by an agency            member and given permission by an agency member. 

2. All members of the party are to return at 11:00pm, though 10:00pm is suggested.
3. All offenses of any form is forbidden.
4. Electronic devices are allowed though there are restrictions, all members of the party shall be informed of these restrictions anytime that the rules change and can and will be wiped.
5. Alleyways, backways, docks, warehouses, etc are to be avoided, bars especially.
6. The school trip shall be a form of educational experience and tourist visit, so wear spring clothing and some autumn jackets, nothing trending from Musutafu or other countries.
7. Actions by either student or other that violate these rules (be warned there is punishment) will be dealt with by the president of the agency, all members involved shall suffer a fair and appropriate punishment.”

“Of course, there is a risk to the school excursion, but it is not likely for Yokohama to offer anything like this anytime soon. I have already brought concerns to my old friend, there is no underlying purpose, the students are not there for anything other than an educational trip and their safety is promised.” 

The pro heroes glanced around at one another, nerves still not yet calmed, however, the assurance had settled some distress.  

Kan Sekijiro, Vlad King seemed less pleased with the students that had been chosen for the field trip compared to the other pros. “What will Class 1-B do then?!” 

He huffed in irritation, the other heroes only sweat dropping in exasperation, ‘that’s your problem?’ they all thought collectively. 

Nezu subtly swept the room with his black eyes before settling on the hunched-over figure of 1-A's homeroom teacher Aizawa. Aizawa’s gaze glided lazily form Sekjiro to connect with Nezu’s, a wordless conversation. He silently agreed to the proposition but with regards and concerns of his own. 

Now only to explain it to the students. 

----------------- 

As expected, the class react with an outcry of excitement and disbelief, for they could not quite comprehend the situation and its weight. The quieter students tuck to reactions of thunderstruck faces and spluttering noises of hesitancy and elate, though their more expressive friends yelped in stupefaction and exhilaration. 

Aizawa sighed, knowing all hope of peacefully telling his students about the Yokohama trip had just gone out the window. After the students had hounded him for information, Aizawa (after scaring them to shut up of course) closed his eyes for a second before opening them again and examining each student's reaction to the news.  

“A friend of principal Nezu has offered a proposition for all members of Class 1-A that sign of agreement forms the opportunity to go to Yokohama and mentor under the workers from an influential agency based in the heart of city.” 

A fury of questions quickly followed, “y-yokohama”  

“The yokohama?!”  

“Are you serious!” 

“B-but Aizawa-sensei, Yokohama is completely isolated from the outside world, n-not to mention how dangerous it must be.” Tenya Iida, the class president of 1-A—a role which he took very seriously, tripped over his words his arm chopping as per usual, sweat building on his foreheads and chills running down his spine just thinking of Yokohama. 

Slowly and surely the class of teens settled down though questions were still burning, Aizawa felt a headache building at the prospect of explaining the special event to his—very trouble-prone—students. 

“As I said before (if you listened) a friend of principal Nezu will be arriving here tomorrow morning to brief all students and pro heroes that sign the agreement form about the trip to Yokohama for two weeks to, from what has already been arranged, train in quirkless combat—which will include hand-to-hand combat and basic weapons training, staged crime, and to understand the spectrum of villains.” 

The students of 1-A stared wide-eyed at Aizawa, two whole weeks at Yokohama? 

“Any students causing trouble will be sent back here—to U.A to work on any extra topics and no practical lessons will exceed the usual amount. Quirk usage is not permitted unless accompanied by a member of the agency at Yokohama, and reckless behaviour will be punished by the law enforcement in Yokohama.”  

Aizawa looked each student in the eye to cement the notion that any misconduct will be fixed swiftly and (slightly) mercilessly. 

“Take these forms to your parents, return them signed to me.” Aizawa drawled handing out the multiple paged agreement forms. After all students receive the papers, Aizawa turned to the black board. “Now back to the lesson, battle awareness and battle adaptability.” The Homeroom teacher continued over the students’ groans. 

Chapter Text

Yokohama was a large port city, hidden within the ominous dark dome. Documents of the black barricade dated back centuries, aged scripts detailing its existence to only just after the appearance of the famed glowing child, the first quirk bearer.

Young Izuku Midoriya had stayed up through the hours of night researching the various but repetitive articles on the secretive city. The pit of the unnerve in his stomach had grown to be a hole eating itself as he read over the numbered sentences. Half of the newspaper clips and online websites had one paragraph of the same (slightly different) pieces of information before spiralling into speculation, conspiracy theories and opinions, further adding to the questions circulating his mind.

………………………………………………………………………

The next day during home room, when Aizawa-Sensei had gone to sleep (caterpillar mode). The student shared information and notes they had collected though most was repeated with synonyms. The heroes-in-training felt shivers run up their spines with the lack of useful facts.

Lessons passed as usual with little villain problems, students handing in the agreement forms earlier on in the week deadline. The day seemed to crawl past the closer it got to the before the trip. Instead of immediately going to a training ground after the bell for heroics class, they were met with the retired hero-All Might in his quirkless form (Small Might), Aizawa and principal Nezu.

“Am I a mouse? Am I Dog? Am I Bear? But most importantly I'm the principal!" Princ. Nezu glowed with happy mystery. The beaming principal brightened (if possible) like he just remembered something. “A representative from the agency and co. has come to talk about the place you will be training and working with. Sakaguchi-San” A tall slouching man walked through the obnoxiously large door of 1-A. Black hair appearing to be cut regularly, seemingly light eyes framed by glasses with a mole under his left-side lip. Dressed in pale brown dress pants and vest, buttoned to the left, a white collared shirt and a kobicha tie with dark polished shoes.

“My name is Sakaguchi Ango, I’m a member of the Special Division for Unusual Powers and I will be your caretaker/guide for the trip to Yokohama.” The tired-looking man drawled (though he couldn’t compare to Aizawa) stated, one Bakugou Katsuki was particularly annoyed at ‘Sakaguchi Ango’.

An awkward silence settled upon the students, staff, and foreigner, Toshinori Yagi coughed uncomfortably “what will the students be learning with the agency?” Sakaguchi arched one eyebrow. “The detectives will be training on organised crime, adaptive training and fighting without the use of quirks, students will be assessed on all subjects covered by the detectives at the agency at the end of your stay.”

A lull fell within the room as they all mulled over the information given to them. “E-eto Sakaguchi-San did you m-mean heroes?” Ochako Uraraka stuttered, brows knitting together. “Uh, no the people working at the ADA are detectives. It’s in the name?” The last statement sounded more like a question to the students. A timid hand raised, Ango’s sharp eyes startled poor Koji Koda “w-what’s the n-name?” Rikido Sato repeated the soft question for Sakaguchi to hear “Armed Detective Agency”. The result was a stunned pause before confusion filled the students, wondering what would be the use of training under detectives during this day and age. “Where you are going, organised crime still very much exists, more so than spontaneous crime”, bewildered hush filled the full room. The students grew increasingly more confused as the silence grew, organised crime? Who would commit organised crime? Unless they were with the League of Villains?! The class slowly came to the same (off by a mile) conclusion, whoever these agency members were they must have dealt with villains like the League of Villains.

“If all the questions have been asked and answered, I shall be taking my leave” Sakaguchi-san began placing the neat stack of paper back into his briefcase (when were they taken out?) “U-uh Sakaguchi-san what are the detectives like?” The picture the students had formulated in their minds of these detectives are old, witty, keen detectives. Pausing for a beat Sakaguchi seemed to be thinking over his options before turning to a page, reading then answering in a clipped voice “a few are just older than you, two are younger than you and the rest are a couple of years older than your third years, of course the president is far older.” Shock ran deep, getting taught by people their age, younger and just older than the 3rd years?!

The silence that had taken hold of class 1-A was quickly shattered by an outburst from one Bakugou Katsuki, teeth grinding and eyes ablaze with anger. “Why do we have to train with a bunch of dumbass detectives?!” The remaining students for once agreeing with the angry pomeranian. Sakaguchi turned faced the students head on, eyebrows slightly pulled inward with a migraine slowly beating in his brain “the workers at the agency are very capable and trained not only in their line of work but also in the police's work.” The room was once again quiet with annoyed confusion, ‘why would detectives have to be trained in police work and what city even needed police officers?!’

“Yokohama is one of the few cities with little to no spontaneous crime, though it is also has the highest overall crime rating out of the whole of Japan and surrounding islands” Sakaguchi sighed out “the detectives have been trained in police work to further lower the rate and protect the people from any unwanted trouble.” The simple reasoning fell deaf on ears for the students, too caught up in Yokohama bearing the title of highest crime rating within Japan.

“How could one city get that, we’ve barely heard about Yokohama” Momo Yaoyorozu the ever proper student collected herself quickly, “Yokohama is a very dangerous place, most information on crime is barely ever known to the citizens of Yokohama” Sakaguchi-san’s tersely informed the class. It felt like a sandpit was pulling the students down, the answers were only creating more questions and feelings of unsettlement continued to rise. Sakaguchi-san’s small window began to shut, his need to return to work growing slowly, for he did not want to anger /him/. His time coming to an eventual close, worried feelings beginning to burst at the seams. The class of 1-A seemed to notice his anxious behaviour as his eyes kept flickering to his wrist watch and to the door before his attention is drawn in by another question.

“Well I believe all questions have been asked and answered, please thank Sakaguchi-san for coming out this far and for his patience students” Principal Nezu beamed as the class chorused ‘thank you’ some (one Bakugou Katsuki) just grumbling. “Ah, your welcome I shall be on my way, thank you for your hospitality Nezu-san” bowing to the small principal, Sakaguchi-san turned with the, surprisingly silent, pro heroes. After exiting the impractically large school, Sakaguchi-san got into his rental and dialled a phone number of his old frenemy (to put it crudely).

Chapter Text

Soft click clacks rebounded in the long repressive hall, polished flooring and tawny walls. Crystal chandeliers hung from the black velvet ceiling, twinkling in the light of the mechanical candles, little chimes and bell-like sounds watered in quietly, almost like it feared to annoy the young person. Tanned skin was painted gold in the yellow flickering of the flames, light scars that marred otherwise unblemished skin was a pastel pink blending in further with the soft milky skin. An eerie humming filled the hallway- the nursery rhyme slowed and depressively sad- broken gums uncaring of the dark aura he displayed. Dark brown hair curving at angles under a beige hat, wiry metal-framed glasses rested on golden cheeks, a toothy grin stretched over sugar-coated lips. A cherry red lollipop was stuffed between sharp teeth, gleaming under the chandeliers candlelight. Leather black shoes slid over the plush rug pulled over the entirety of the hardwood floor, an ivory mat with white fringed ends brushing upon the Victorian style walls. An open book rested in his long fingers rubbing on black-bound cover, the smooth texture sending sparks along his fingertips. The black book with a thick binder and bold letter seemed to be old pages yellowing and dust creeping into the creases between pages, the young man had read it many times but continues to be impressed if not stunned by the sheer naivety of the writer who dared to preach about the morality codes whilst being trapped in a world so black and white it shamed those who spoke the truth.

The needle of the morality compass spun endlessly to him, mindless people never learnt that black and white blended to grey (other than in art class). It was unsettling how humans can be blinded by the thought of ‘the good guys’ saving the day and beating ‘the bad guys’ black and blue. Morals are the standards of behaviour that enable people to live cooperatively in groups. Morality refers to what societies sanction as right and acceptable. The examples used to describe morally correct actions are just as flawed: Honesty Justice, Causing harm or any of the likes to others, Family, Treat others the way you want to be treated, Destruction of property, Keep promises Do not judge and Be dependable. Such things would kill faster than a bullet to the lung, for Yokohama had some of the most lethal snipers. The amoral or immoral ways of life were judged and looked down upon for it was sickening to all that didn't have to survive using unethical acts. The value of being kind only ever holds significance when it benefits the person who believes they have extended their hand for those less fortunate. When a person is a ‘hero’ they are the good guy, who could never do any wrong, but with the ‘villain’ the bad guy, every action they do is wrong and shunned regardless of it being morally white.

His glasses flashes white when he pauses under a chandelier outside dark heavy doors, tucking the naively captivating book within one of many pockets in his detective's cape. Four repetitive knocks on the large doors, a muffled ‘enter’ sounded from within the room. Pushing the thick doors open the young man was met with the sight of a man behind a dark desk. The man aged but still proper looking, his tall regal stature standing out from the tall sturdy chair. His fine clothes, hand-made, tailored and from a good tailor. The expensive tailoring didn’t even attempt to hide his broad, well-trained torso, all whilst being decorated with silver stitches and symbols of the highest society. The young man eyed the slim man, his knowledge of the man opposite of him did not paint him to be as kind as he would appear. “I would have expected you to dress up if you wanted to speak to me?” The man’s face unfurled his lips, his words were like acid seeping out of his words, “oh, well I'm wearing my best dress?” honeyed words dripping in sarcasm fell from the younger’s lips. The man took his time to look over the younger man, “It will do. Carry on.” The young man bowed his head in respectful greeting, stepping into the private office, shutting the heavy doors behind him. He heard the man rolling a pen across the desk and stopped in the middle of the room. “Be seated.”

The young man was indignant at the man’s seemingly irate attitude. The man’s face was set in a sternness that caused his lips to quiver as he stooped over his desk. Hands wrapped in cotton white gloves clasped on top of the older man's desk, long fingers twisting around one another. Sharp violet eyes narrowed in slight offence, “What is it that you wish for us?” The young boy’s voice was drawled, caution biting at the edges. “To look after some outsiders, show them around, teach them, things here and there” white teeth glinted under the desk lights hard glare. “These ‘outsiders’ wouldn't happen to be some important people?” the boy's eyes opened revealing emerald green eyes filled with mirth and a calculative glint, “say some young heroes in training? Specifically, the newest ‘cream of the crop’ group of 1-A students?” a hard grin tugged at his lips, watching the older man across from him tighten his jaw and click his tongue. “Ever the observer you are, yes these outsiders are the students of 1-A along with a small number of their ‘pro heroes’ to act as protection” the 40-year-old leaned back into his chair, teeth bared in an eerie smile, not unlike a snake.

The discussion between the two sharp-witted people was short and cut to the chase, leaving little room for such pleasantries past standard social etiquette. As the brief meeting drew to an end a silent exchange holding their true intentions were addressed. The 26-year-old moved towards the door “I shall see myself out and be on my way then, though a little earlier heads up would have been appreciated, Mori-san” words bitter and icy took over the usual more kind goodbyes, though the man in the seat deserved only politeness from necessity. The young detective closed the heavy doors with a soft click the cut-off goodbyes from the man inside muddled by the thickness of the oak doors. He walked back down the familiar corridors, mulling over the new information of course being himself he knew something was going on in the underground, but it didn't occur to him something of this extent would occur. ‘And so soon after the Rats and the other foreigners’ pondering on his thoughts as he reached the elevator at the end of the luscious hallway he stepped in the clean metal box, his slight heels clicking on the steel flooring of the elevator. The smooth descent past the many floors from the topmost floor down the very bottom one, the elevator itself was clean-cut steel presumably thick metal from the low tones when it with the heel of the young man's shoes, the wall that would face the city had been replaced with a large pane of glass most likely to act as a window to view the city.

Once the elevator had finished its paced descent, he stepped out of the elevator and into the spacious lobby. Eyeing the many guards warily (with numerous stares of suspicion shot back) he exited the biggest of the five black skyscraper buildings. Spotting his ride from down the street the 26-year-old wandered through the sweets and fruit vendors to the mediocre car. With a timed repetitive knock on the tinted glass, he moved away as the door swung open, “About time, considering leaving your ass here” a young lady behind the wheel turned to him, her animated purple eyes and golden butterfly clip the most noticeable oddities about herself. “Aww you wouldn't be so cruel” the sharp look was replaced with a lazy grin as quickly as waves hit the shore, “What was the ‘meeting’ about?” her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she knew he was waiting for it from his smug like smirk. “It would be best we wait till the president is around to hear, though we should probably prepare for some visitors before they arrive'' more questions arise along with a tinge of unease ‘the president hearing first would be the best course of action, but to prepare for visitors?’ thoughts circled her mind while her eyes trained solely on the unusually busy road. Her passenger, who was now sucking on a lollipop once hidden within one of his several pockets within the ‘detective's cape’ with stashes of assorted lollies inside, was left to his musings while staring outside the window at the speeding scenery.

‘Why has Mori-san allowed these visitors in so close to the last traumatic event?, and why are they willing (blindly) to move around with the students at risk not only physically but mentally? and why must we house them, he knows we’re still recovering from the last attack. Has he cashed in on favour or is he planning something?’ The endless questions went unanswered though the man in question would have probably never meant to answer any of them, escaping even the greatest detective.