Damn, it's nice to be done with another semester of university. After a 2.5 month break, I was able to crank this chapter out in about two days, which honestly felt pretty amazing.

A quick disclaimer, though. My original outline called for a mainly villain-POV chapter next, but a single line of dialogue from a recent chapter of the My Hero manga gave me a lightbulb moment of inspiration, and I realized that I absolutely had to write this chapter first. I hope you all enjoy it, because I've been looking forward to reaching this point in the story for a long time.

Chapter 26: Six Feet Under

The Day of the Graduation Attack

Two Hours after the Destruction of U.A.

"Eighteen years, Shota. I've spent eighteen years watching your back, and after all that time, you're telling me this is how it ends?"

Midnight let out a long, ragged sigh, and slipped her hand into the narrow gap between Eraser's lifeless fingers. They were already cold and stiff, flecked with dried mud and blood; touching them sent a shiver racing up her arm and down her spine, but she paid it no mind. Aizawa's hands were also one of the only parts of his body still fully intact, not shattered and twisted by the fall like his legs, or riddled with gruesome puncture wounds like his torso. Half of his skill had caved in on impact with the ground, but the worst of the gore was mercifully hidden behind a curtain of matted black hair, stained shades of red and brown. The other half of his face was still practically pristine, staring up at the morgue's blank white ceiling with an expression torn between resignation and despair.

"You were never good with jokes, Shota. So I wish you'd go ahead and quit it with this one." Kayama tightened her grip on his fingers and swallowed, wincing at the size of the quivering lump in her throat. Despite everything, she suddenly found herself smiling, and a soft chuckle escaped her lips. "It's really not funny."

One of the ceiling lights flickered as Nemuri gazed down at his sole remaining eye, wondering with morbid curiosity what thoughts might have been running through her friend's head in those final few moments, plummeting helplessly toward the ground as she and hundreds of others did nothing but watch.

Were you thinking about me, Shota? Or was it Hizashi you were worried about? Emi, maybe, or Oboro? Kayama closed her eyes and shook her head. No. You were thinking about your students, like any good teacher should.

A nurse's calm yet insistent voice sounded off somewhere close behind her, but the woman might as well have been a thousand yards away.

"And you were a good teacher," Midnight whispered, faint enough that no one else in the room could hear. "Way better than me, for the record."

"Ma'am," the nurse repeated, more insistently this time, snapping Nemuri from her trance. "I'm afraid you can't touch the body, not before the coroner and his team make their report. I'm going to have to ask you to step back until they arrive."

"Of course. My apologies."

Clearing her throat to try and rid herself of the stubborn lump inside it, Kayama took a hesitant step backwards and glanced once more about the morgue. Though the chamber was fairly well-sized, the lack of windows on the basement level gave it a somewhat claustrophobic feeling, lined on two sides with ugly cinderblock walls, the white paint chipped and worn. One side of the room was occupied in its entirety by rows and rows of gleaming metal lockers embedded into the wall, cold storage for bodies. Two of them were drawn open at the moment, one for Aizawa and one for Vlad King; the last Midnight had heard, they were still fighting an uphill battle to save Uraraka's life on one of the hospital's upper floors. I want to be optimistic, but after how all the blood the poor girl lost before the ambulances could get through… She frowned and shook her head, silently reprimanding herself for her own pessimism. She'll pull through. They'll all pull through.

The nearest ICU-equipped medical facility to U.A., the hospital had been seem its emergency room filled to the brim over the course of the afternoon, as ambulances and civilian cars alike ferried in casualties from the Syndicate's attack. Dozens of students toward the back of the crowd had received minor wounds from glass and flaming shrapnel thrown out by the explosion of the main building, not to mention the potential damage to their eardrums, and a handful of the protestors and journalists held hostage by Overhaul's men had been grazed by stray bullets during the chaos of the villains' escape. In a stroke of luck that Midnight frankly considered miraculous, none of the students' family members had been harmed, aside from the traumatic nature of the experience – the presence of Endeavor and a handful of other heroes in the audience had been instrumental in preventing a mass panic that could've seen dozens trampled.

Others, however, hadn't been so fortunate. Kendo and Asui were currently in surgery, though thankfully neither of their wounds were life-threatening. Along with Uraraka, though, Present Mic and Snipe both remained in critical condition; Nemuri had spent thirty minutes pacing outside Yamada's operating room, begging nurses for updates as they filtered in and out.

Both of you. She turned her gaze up to the ceiling, where they were still operating on Hizashi just a few floors above. By the end of the day, I might lose both of you.

Her fingers tightening into a trembling fist, Kayama forced herself to look around the room for a distraction – anything to keep her from remembering the way Mic had reached out to her, choking on his own blood as Endeavor did his best to clear away the sparking remnants of his speaker and seal the wound shut with fire. Of the horrid, gut-wrenching noise Shota's body had made when it hit the ground, audible all the way from the stage.

Suddenly she found herself walking to the other end of the room, where Ectoplasm and Power Loader were conversing in hushed tones next to Vlad King. Compared to Aizawa's battered and bloodied state, Nemuri couldn't help but think that U.A.'s final principal looked practically untouched in death. Given that the red from his blood blended into the color of his costume, she might've assumed he was simply lying down for a nap, if not for the roughly two-centimeter gap between his head and the rest of his body. His eyes were still wide with shock, and Midnight could hardly blame him; they had been prepared for a potential attack from the Syndicate, but no one had anticipated a betrayal from within the ranks of the hero course, not even the Public Safety Commission or the leadership of Strike Team Fenrir. Kamakiri and Uraraka's actions were still beyond comprehension, and for the time being, Nemuri found that it was easiest not to think too much on the matter – there would be time for that once her friends and students were out of surgery.

Kayama gave a weak wave as she approached the other two teachers, struggling to conjure up something to say, but Ectoplasm quickly glanced in her direction and spared her the trouble.

"Nemuri. Have you heard?"

"…Heard what?"

"Hizashi's condition has stabilized. Cementoss just texted me, from upstairs – the chief surgeon told him that Mic is responding well to transfusions, and should no longer be in any immediate danger."

"That's great news," Kayama replied, smiling weakly in relief as she glanced down at her own cellphone. "I was waiting for a text from him too, but I've still got zero bars down here. About time I go ahead and change carriers, right?" Her expression swiftly turned back to a frown, though, when she looked back up and noticed that the other two teachers still seemed downtrodden. "…There's a 'but', isn't there?"

Ectoplasm and Power Loader exchanged a solemn look before the former continued, and Midnight felt her heart tighten in her chest.

"It's Uraraka. She… didn't make it. I'm so sorry."

"…Oh. I see."

Nemuri turned her gaze down to the floor, her eyes wide with shock. The lump from before had returned to her throat, and she could feel a sudden surge of nausea as her stomach sunk inside her, but the tears still refused to come. For hours on end during and after the attack, Kayama had been riding on the high of an adrenaline rush, focusing her mind solely on her duties as a hero- to evacuate the students and their families from the campus, and help transport the injured to the hospital. When she finally descended to the morgue to escape the throngs of rabid press and concerned parents in the lobby, she had been certain that the tears would begin to flow, that the reality of Shota's death would finally set in. But even standing before the body of her friend of eighteen years- even holding onto his cold, lifeless fingers- nothing. There was no cathartic sobbing, only a feeling of cold emptiness, like everything important inside her had been hollowed out and left barren. Even now, the thought of Ochako lying still and lifeless just a few dozen feet above Midnight's head gave way to nothing but more of the same.

What the hell is wrong with me?

"Why are you apologizing to me?" She suddenly asked, another attempt to distract herself from her mental turmoil. "She was your student too." Her tone was much more defensive than she'd intended, and Ectoplasm's ghoulish mouth drew into a concerned from.

"Nemuri…" The other teacher took a tentative step forward, and extended his arms as if to wrap her in a hug, but Midnight shrunk away from his advance, shaking her head.

"You don't have to baby me, Ecto. I just… I need…"

Before she could finish her thought, the sound of echoing, shouted voices became audible from out in the hallway, and Kayama snapped back into duty mode in an instant, straightening her posture and striding toward the door as the shouting gradually became more intelligible.

"Please, ma'am, I need to register you as an authorized visitor before you go in there!" An exasperated male voice was protesting, as two pairs of footfalls drew nearer and nearer. "There's paperwork I need to file! Do you want me to get fired?"

"You can fire yourself out of a cannon into the sun for all I care!" A woman barked in reply. "I need to see him, right now! I just spent two hours on a train to get here, so you better believe me when I tell you I'm not waiting one second longer!"

Midnight recognized the second voice almost instantly, and exchanged a worried glance with Ectoplasm as he stepped forward to join her by the entrance.

This isn't going to be fun.

By the time she slammed open the morgue's double doors, Ms. Joke's eyes were already red and watery. Her cheeks were flushed with color too, and her breath was still escaping in ragged pants, a clear indicator that she had sprinted most of the way from the station. A young receptionist arrived behind her just moments later, his expression worn and beleaguered as he attempted to hold a clipboard of documents out in the Laughing Hero's direction. Fukukado Emi paid him no heed, though, and began to march toward the barricade of people standing between her and Aizawa, her mouth set in a grim line.

The young female nurse from before was the first to attempt to intercept her, followed by Midnight and finally by Ectoplasm, but Joke barreled through them all before finally falling to her knees in front of Eraser's body, her determined expression cracking apart in an instant. Long, deep sobs began to shake her body as she grabbed onto Shota's hand, the same one Midnight had held earlier, and she spoke up moments later in a trembling voice, muffled by tears and snot.

"When they told me, I… I didn't want to believe them. I d-didn't think it was possible, there had to have been some m-mistake… I just… he always…"

"Ma'am," the nurse cut in, reaching out towards Joke's shoulder. "You need to-"

Kayama caught the woman's hand halfway, though, and shook her head.

"Just… let her be for a minute, okay? She needs this. I'll apologize to the coroner myself on her behalf. And I promise she'll fill out those forms for you once she's done here." Nemuri added, nodding towards the panicked receptionist. "Don't worry, kid- you're not gonna get fired. I'll make sure of that."

"T-Thank you, ma'am." The young man replied, his face flushed red as his eyes drifted down to her chest – a response she was accustomed to provoking. He snapped out of his trance moments later, and bowed deeply. "Y-You're very kind. I'll be waiting at the desk at the end of the hall when Ms. Fukukado is ready."

The nurse was decidedly less enthusiastic, but eventually gave in all the same after Ectoplasm intervened as well. When Kayama turned back to face their new visitor, however, Joke was glaring up at her through her tears.

"W-why didn't you protect him?! You promised me, Kayama – when you took that job, you promised me that you'd always watch out for him! So how could you let this happen?!"

"Ms. Joke," Ectoplasm cut in, holding up his hands as if to calm her. "Please, I realize that you're in distress, but try and keep your voice down. This is-"

"It's okay, Ecto. I've got it."

Midnight gave him a reassuring nod, and knelt down to Joke's level. It's the grief talking, she reminded herself, as she searched desperately for the right words. She doesn't mean what she's saying, she's just lashing out, trying to vent her emotions any way she can.

"Look, Emi…" she finally began, reaching out tentatively toward Joke's shoulder. "I know how close you were to Shota, and I want you to understand that we-"

"Don't call me Emi," Joke snapped, pushing away Midnight's hand as another pair of tears spilled down her reddened cheeks, "and don't act like you were his best friend. I loved him. You can't even spare a goddamn tear for him. He was just another toy for you, wasn't he? Just like every other man in your life."

Nemuri's expression darkened, and she forced herself to stand back up and turn around before she could say something equally vile and vindictive in reply.

"I'm gonna go take a breather," she declared to Ectoplasm in a clipped, curt tone, one fist clenched tight at her side as she plunged out into the dimly lit hallway and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her handbag. A quick glance to either side revealed that there were no hospital personnel in sight; accordingly, there was no one to protest as she shoved a cigarette into her mouth and fished out her lighter, an old, well-worn model emblazoned with a pair of faded red lips.

Who's it gonna bother down here, anyway? Kayama mused, a hint of a grin on her lips as she struggled to produce a flame. The corpses? Before she could successfully light it, another set of footsteps sounded from around the corner, and Midnight readied herself to stow the cigarette back in her bag if necessary. When Togata Mirio came into view moments later, though, she breathed a sigh of relief, and continued to fumble with the lighter as he approached. Lemillion had been one of her favorite students during his time at U.A., and they still managed to catch up over coffee every few months. Mirio's eyes were pained, though, and when he stopped short of the morgue's doors to greet her, his face was devoid of its customary joy and enthusiasm.

"He's… in there, isn't he?" Even his voice sounded hollow.

"That he is," Midnight replied matter-of-factly, "a regular popsicle. Now might not be the best time to go see him, though. Joke's on the warpath in there."

"Are you… alright?" Togata's expression and tone were both equally confused, his brows furrowed in concern. He had been close to Aizawa as well during his high school years, and still held the distinguishment of being the only student ever to have made him laugh. "It's… it's okay if you're not."

"Well I am," Nemuri countered, grimacing as the flame sputtered out again. "I'm fine, Mirio. And I'll be even better once I can get this piece-of-junk lighter working."

"Midnight-sensei…" Lemillion closed his eyes in silent realization. "Your cigarette's backwards."

"Hm? Ah." Swearing quietly when she realized he was right, Midnight plucked it out and crumpled it between her fingers before tossing it aside. When she glanced down at her bag to grab another, though, her vision had suddenly grown blurry, her cheeks flushed red. It took Kayama several long moments to realize she was crying, and by that time, she had already fallen down to her knees, leaning against the wall for support and as tears spilled down her face.

"I'm sorry, Shota." She choked out between sobs, cradling her head in her hands. "I'm so sorry. I broke it… I broke my promise."

She could still remember it in perfect clarity: the vow that she, Aizawa and Yamada had made the day after Shirakumo's death, the promise that they would always have each other's backs from then on, no matter what. That they would never let the tragedy of Oboro's death be repeated.

Beside her, Mirio remained silent, but extended a hand down towards her all the same; when she glanced up through her tears, Nemuri realized that he was crying too- the arm he'd offered her was trembling.

"You didn't… do anything wrong, sensei," Lemillion finally managed, forcing a smile back onto his face as he pulled his old teacher to her feet. "And I'm sure that if Aizawa-sensei were here, he… he wouldn't want us to…"

Togata's smile broke as quickly as it had reappeared, and Kayama wrapped him in a wordless embrace, rubbing circles on his caped back as he sobbed into her shoulder. Tears were still flowing down her face as well, but her breathing had finally steadied again, and she felt the pain in her chest lighten just a little as she imagined what Shota would make of the sight of them, bawling like babies.

"You're right," she finally declared, after what felt like an eternity. "He wouldn't approve of this sorry display, not one bit. But then again, doing the opposite of what Aizawa Shota wants has always been one of my favorite pastimes. What kind of friend would I be if I broke that streak now?"

Lemillion chuckled at that, and the two finally broke apart, each wiping at their eyes.

"Thank you, Mirio." She squeezed his hand and smiled, then turned at the sound of more approaching footsteps.

"Ah, Midnight. I thought you might be down here. Forgive me for the delay." An older man in doctor's robes bowed respectfully as he approached them, followed close behind by two assistants wearing surgical masks. The coroner, huh? About time.

"No worries, doctor – I'm sure it's been a busy day for you."

"Indeed, it's quite the madhouse up there!" The man chuckled and adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, a peculiar pair with multiple sets of adjustable lenses. "We were short-staffed as it is before this tragedy, so you can surely understand that I've had to wear several hats this afternoon. I am a surgeon first and foremost, after all! I've already been fortunate enough to be able to aid some of the victims in their recovery."

"I'm glad to hear that," Kayama replied, a genuine smile on her face for the first time since the attack. "I have a question, actually, about one of the patients up there- I've been told Yamada Hizashi's condition has improved?"

"Indeed, I took part in his surgery myself! He should consider himself quite lucky that the blade didn't cut just a few centimeters deeper, or he might have been beyond our help. His vocal cords will take some time to fully recover, but otherwise he should be healthy enough to leave within a matter of days."

"That's… amazing news, doctor." Midnight exchanged a relieved glance with Lemillion, then gestured back to the morgue's door. "But my apologies, I don't mean to keep you. I know you have work to do in there."

"Nonsense, it's never a bother to speak with a beautiful woman such as yourself!"

The doctor gave her a warm, cheery smile, and for a split second, something about his expression struck Nemuri as almost nostalgic, like a long-forgotten memory.

Have I seen him somewhere before?

The man was short and rather rotund, with a head entirely devoid of hair, aside from the bushy grey mustache beneath his glasses. A fuzzy, half-formed memory flashed briefly through her mind as she scrutinized his face, fragmented and distorted. A doctor's office – her mother and father – this man's face –the word 'Somnambulist', strange and complex to the mind of a toddler.

It couldn't be… that was almost thirty years ago. Why would he look the same?

"Are you… a quirk specialist as well, by any chance?" She found herself blurting out the question the moment it formed in her mind.

The doctor merely widened his smile in reply, and gave a soft chuckle.

"As I said, I wear many hats. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I have a body to attend to."

Four Days Later

Midnight's Apartment, Saitama

"You know, I have to say. You're really not my usual type."

"Oh, is that so?" Gang Orca chuckled as Midnight reached up to undo the first of the four pairs of handcuffs fastening his wrists and ankles to her bedframe, and shifted to the side to allow her easier access. "And what exactly would constitute your 'usual type', if you don't mind indulging my curiosity?"

"Come on, is that a rhetorical question?" Nemuri reached over to the bedside table to grab her abandoned glass of wine with one hand as she worked on her guest's second handcuff with the other, taking a deep sip as she worked. "I don't exactly make it a secret, to say the least."

"Like I said," Kugo replied, grinning, "indulge me. It's the least you could do, after I just worked so hard to indulge you."

"Hard work?!" Kayama laughed aloud, and put on an air of mock offense. "Ah yes, it must've been very strenuous for you to lie still like that, begging and groveling for me." She planted a playful kiss on Sakamata's cheek, just below his red-pupiled eye, then leaned back and struck a contemplative pose with her glass of wine, straddling his bare, muscular white torso. "But if you insist, I shall inform you. They're usually younger than you, by at least half a decade or so, generally more. They're always skinnier, too – less beefy." She poked at his well-defined pecs with an accusing finger. "Although I suppose I do enjoy some muscles on occasion. Depends on my mood, I guess. Most of all, though, I like the sheltered, inexperienced ones- the ones who've clearly never been with a real woman before. That innocent, lingering bit of naiveté…" Nemuri shuddered with excitement, and combed through her sweat-soaked black hair with her fingers. "It really gets me going, Kugo."

Gang Orca shook his head in amusement, and rubbed at his tender wrists as Midnight moved on to the cuffs around his ankles.

"Quite the detailed description. So how do you account for tonight, in that case? Did I happen to catch you in the right mood? Or was it just pity, for a geezer who's getting close to breaking forty?"

"First of all," Kayama answered, giving Sakamata a pleasant view of her bare hips as she twisted around on his stomach to undo the final shackle, "the reason is never pity. That's a rule of mine, and it should be one of yours too. But to answer your initial question…" Turning back to face him, she shrugged, and finished off the remainder of her rosé in a single gulp. "What can I say? Chemistry works in mysterious ways. We were both in the right place at the right time."

At the end of a long day mostly spent setting up her revamped hero office, Midnight had happened into Gang Orca at a local bar, fresh off one of his patrols; after a good bit of catching up and drowning their various sorrows, sparks had flown between them, setting off a chain of events which led to Nemuri handcuffing the number five-ranked hero to her bed just a short while later. Generally, Midnight made an effort to avoid hookups with any pros operating in the same area as her – it tended to add unnecessary baggage to future team-up operations – but the more stressed she was, the more lax she grew with her rules. And I think we've both just about hit our limit when it comes to stress, she mused, shrugging off what remained of her skimpy leather dominatrix harness as she made her way to the closet. Given that Sakamata was a relative newbie to her particular brand of play, not to mention a valued co-worker, she'd spared him most of her various toys this time; her whips, gags, chains, and other salacious instruments were tucked away in an orderly fashion on the left set of shelves, while the right set and central rack held her shoes and normal attire. Forgoing panties for the time being, Kayama slipped on an oversized t-shirt and flopped back onto the bed with the TV remote in one hand and a beer for her guest in the other.

Within a few minutes, they were cuddled together beneath the sheets, watching a nature documentary on marine life – Kugo's choice, of course. Gang Orca's childlike fascination with the subject was rather adorable, to say the least; over the past few hours, Midnight had found it endlessly entertaining to observe the stark contrast between his fierce, unyielding public image and the gentler, hidden aspects of his personality. Who would've thought that he'd be such a perfect bottom? She mused, grinning deviously to herself as she shifted in his arms. Just as the documentary was about to reach the climactic clash between a pod of orcas and a great white shark, though, a blaring alarm sounded from Midnight's phone, long since forgotten on the desk at the far end of the room.

"Ah, shit. You've gotta be kidding me…" Nemuri muttered, frowning down at the screen once she'd retrieved it. It's 11:00 already?"

"Don't tell me you have a graveyard shift…" Sakamata set down his beer and stood to join her by the desk, still nude aside from his polka dot boxers.

"Guilty as charged, unfortunately- 12 to 6. Feel free to stay the night, though! I know getting back this late can be a real bitch with this curfew and all."

"But we were just about to get to the best part…" Kugo protested weakly, pouting with the earnest disappointment of a child who'd just dropped his ice cream. "The great white's huge, but the orcas work together and-"

"Hey, no spoilers!" Midnight called from her closet as she began to change into her hero costume. "Don't worry, I definitely intend on finishing it. There's been some pretty interesting stuff- like, who knew dolphins were such freaks?!"

"And they still get all the fame and popularity," Sakamata muttered, half under his breath; clearly, the subject was quite personal for him. "In terms of me staying the night, though, are you sure I won't be imposing? I think there are a few cab services still running after curfew specifically for heroes, I could always call one."

"Nah, don't worry about it. The fare's probably a ripoff anyway. You already know your way around the place: beer and snacks are in the fridge and pantry if you want anything, but don't even think about touching my ice cream, or your ass is grass. Or my fancy shochu, for that matter. Got it?"

"Eat all the ice cream, and drink all the shochu, that's an affirmative. Consider it done."

"Just try it, smartass," Midnight countered in a mock-serious tone, chucking a wadded-up pair of panties at Gang Orca's head as a warning before she slipped on a light jacket and made for the door.

Half a minute later, she was sitting in her car with her cellphone in hand, skimming through her work email and Hero Network messages as she idled in the apartment's cramped parking garage- in her experience, it always paid off to check for any updates before making the drive down to Tokyo. One email in particular caught her eye; it was from the hospital that had taken in the victims from the attack on U.A., with a subject line that read: 'Aizawa Shota: Full Autopsy and Coroner's Report'.

"Finally," she muttered aloud. "They took their goddamn time on it."

On the day of the attack, she'd convinced the hospital staff to include her on the list of recipients for any future medical reports related to Eraserhead, desperate for information about what might have happened to him between the last time they spoke and his death at Uraraka's hands less than half an hour later. Looks like that sweet-talking paid off after all. Alright, let's see what baldy and his team have to say.

When Nemuri opened the attachment, though, nearly two thirds of the document's text had been blacked out by censor bars; only the most mundane information had been spared. At the very top of the first page, a disclaimer in bold black characters clarified the reason behind the secrecy:

'Any and all redacted information will be made available on a strictly need-to-know basis', the header read. 'If you believe you qualify as a result of an ongoing investigation, contact the Public Safety Commission at the following address.'

"I guess 'best friend' doesn't really count as a qualification, huh?" Kayama scowled and rubbed at her temples in exasperation. "Fucking assholes."

Judging by what she knew about the Commission's current anti-Syndicate efforts, it was safe to assume that the only individuals who did qualify were the members of Strike Team Fenrir. It wouldn't feel right to ask Mirio or any of my other former students to supply me with classified info, but maybe I could call in a favor from Mirko or Jeanist… Midnight's frown grew deeper, and she shook her head. But then again, I don't want to risk burning any bridges if they don't turn out to be sympathetic, or getting them in trouble with the Commission, for that matter. Maybe if I…

A lightbulb suddenly flashed in Nemuri's head, and she glanced down at the dashboard to check the time. Only 11:12? Plenty of room for a quick detour. Satisfied with her new scheme, she finally put the car in drive, drumming her fingers contentedly on the steering wheel as she turned out onto the road.

"Draft a message over the Hero Network to Glamorous, Spiral, and Vantablack," Midnight dictated once she'd merged onto the highway, letting the car's remote link to her phone do the rest. "'Sorry, but I might be a few minutes late to the rendezvous for our patrol – I have a minor errand to run first. Feel free to start the route without me, and I'll catch up to you'. End message and send."

Given that she was no longer a teacher, Midnight had spent much of the past few days readjusting to life as a full-time hero. As part of the transition, she'd taken on a new set of sidekicks, recruiting Utsushimi Camie, formerly of Shiketsu, along with Class 3-B's Kaibara Sen and Kuroiro Shihai. So far, their quirks and skillsets were proving to be a perfect balance of support, melee, and stealth. The three former students were already working well as a unit with no signs of fatigue despite Midnight's unconventional hours, though there was still some progress to be made when it came to persuading Glamorous not to post candid selfies during their missions.

Hopefully I won't get too harsh of a scolding from Kaibara and Kuroiro if this ends up running long. If play my cards right, it won't take more than twenty minutes, in and out.

"New text message," the car declared moments later, prompting a skeptical glance from Kayama down towards her phone. Did one of them really respond that fast? Or did Kugo stumble onto the whips and chains?

"Who is it from?"

"Sender: Principal Nezu."

"Nezu?! Read it, please."

"Nemuri," the car began, switching to a generic male tone of voice, "I know that I've dropped off the grid these past few weeks, and I apologize for not returning your calls sooner, but there were several matters I needed to look into, without attracting any unnecessary attention from the press or government. I believe I've stumbled across something important, but I'm afraid I can't say any more over the phone. I took the liberty of checking your patrol schedule, so I know you're free tomorrow afternoon – meet me outside the Hikawa Shrine in northeast Saitama at 1:00 PM. There are many things I need to tell you, and after the attack on U.A., you're one of the few people left I can trust completely. Please reply if you intend to be there."

"Goddamn…" Midnight muttered under her breath, her eyes wide. "You've been busy, huh?"

"Auto-reply options are as follows," the computer continued cheerily, back to its normal female voice now. "'Yes, I'll be there.' 'No, I can't make it.' 'I'll get back to you-"

"The first one!" Midnight blurted, glancing back at the highway to find the right exit. "Yes, I'll be there! Send."

Secret investigations, huh? That's what you've been up to? And here I hoped you were finally enjoying a nice vacation, eating fancy cheese and sipping fancy tea. Kayama smiled wistfully, thinking back to the days when finishing her grading early enough to make teatime in Nezu's office had been the most of her worries. Whatever he's doing, it sounds pretty intense, but for now, I've gotta focus on the mission at hand.

Nemuri was still ahead of schedule when she pulled into the hospital's parking lot just fifteen minutes later; a quick flash of her hero license, and she was stepping out of the elevator and onto the basement level within another five.

"Well hey there, handsome! Fancy seeing you again."

As fate would have it, the receptionist seated at the mortuary floor's front desk was the same young man who'd been chasing down Ms. Joke the day of the attack; judging by his appearance, he was barely out of college, with a perpetually nervous countenance and wide, innocent eyes partially hidden by messy brown bangs. Just my type, huh? Too bad I don't have time for anything like that.

He'd been listening to music on his phone when she greeted him, and didn't notice her until she was nearly at the desk, pulling out his earbuds in a panic as his face went bright crimson.

"M-Ms. Midnight? You're here again?"

"In the flesh." She gave him a playful wink, leaning nonchalantly up against the desk. "They've got you on the graveyard shift too, huh? It must get lonely down here all by yourself."

"N-No, that's not… I-I mean, maybe a little, but, uh… h-how can I help you?"

"Just some boring hero business," Kayama replied with a shrug. "Paperwork and all that, you know how it is. There are some documents I need to check related to one of the deceased who was stored here at the morgue the other day. Any idea where those are kept?"

"All records from the past few years should be in the morgue's filing cabinets, in the alcove to the right of the cold lockers. B-But if this person was one of the U.A. victims, then we have special instructions. Government-classified documents are in a separate safe, so first I'll need your access permit, and you'll have to-"

"Permits this, clearance that. It's really such a pain." Midnight gave a dramatic sigh, and shook her head in exasperation. "I'm afraid the mission I'm on is urgent – I don't have time to spend half an hour filling out forms right now, or my objective could be compromised. You understand, don't you?" Putting on her best doe eyes, Midnight clapped her hands together and stuck out her glossed lower lip in a pout. "Could you maybe make an exception, just this once? I'm already running late as is, and I don't want my bosses at the Commission to get angry with me… you don't want that either, do you?"

"N-No, Ms. Midnight, of course not!" The receptionist fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, clearly conflicted. "I-I don't want to obstruct a hero's work or anything. But I don't want to get in trouble either, and… well…"

"That's why this'll be our little secret." Nemuri lowered her voice to a sultry whisper and leaned forward over the counter as she moved in for the kill, watching the hesitation and resistance slowly evaporate from the young man's eyes. "I did say I'd protect you, didn't I? Just leave everything to me." To seal the deal, she planted a single kiss on his cheek, running one hand tantalizingly along his arm before leaning back with a mischievous grin.

"I-If you say so, Ms. Midnight. H-Here are the keys." His face flushed even brighter than before, the receptionist continued to fidget anxiously as he handed over a hefty keyring.

"That's a good boy." Satisfied, Kayama twirled the ring in hand, then blew a goodbye kiss in in the young staffer's direction before turning to start down the corridor. "Oh, and sweetie – just call me Midnight, alright? No need for the 'miss'."

"O-Okay! Just… try not to be too long!" He called after her. "It would be bad if one of the security guards caught you in there without a pass…"

"Don't worry, I'll be gone before you know it."

Keeping a watchful eye out in case of any wandering night patrols, Nemuri reached the morgue without incident after making her way through a maze of empty, dimly-lit hallways, and quickly located the cabinet in question, set off to the side from all the others with a set of hefty, complex-looking locks on each drawer.

"Last name, Aizawa…" She muttered under her breath, shivering in the frigid, stale air as she searched for the corresponding label and key. God, was it this cold in here the other day? This place is creepy as hell when it's empty – the sooner I can get back on the road, the better.

Soon enough, Midnight had the drawer open and Eraser's file in hand; it was noticeably thicker than she'd expected, at least ten pages in total. So there was some removed from the version I got, on top of all the black bars? Frowning, she began to rifle through the folder and skim its contents, but swiftly gave up and pulled out her cellphone instead. There's way too much info to read it all here and now – I'd definitely get busted if I tried that. Best to take pictures and look over it later, when I have more time.

Splaying all the pages out on a bare metal table to the left of the cabinet, Kayama began to snap pictures at record speed, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds to make sure she was still alone. As she finished her snapshot of the final page, though, her eyes drifted instinctually to the document's final line. 'Report filed by Dr. Garaki Kyudai' it read, 'Chief Physician and Head of Surgery, Jaku General Hospital'. Garaki's signature followed just below, accompanied by a headshot of the mustached, bald-headed doctor from the day of the attack.

"…The fuck?" Midnight muttered aloud, her eyes narrowed. I assumed that guy was just some random pathologist they pulled in to serve as a coroner thanks to the staff shortage. Why the hell would the hospital's chief physician and top surgeon concern himself with personally supervising something as mundane and low-level as an autopsy while multiple patients were still in critical condition?

Staring down at Garaki's grainy, black-and-white portrait, Nemuri thought back to the hazy memory his face had dragged to the surface four days prior. That night, I told myself it was a coincidence, just my brain playing tricks on me. But what if I was wrong? What if Garaki Kyudai really was the doctor who diagnosed my quirk?

"But how is that possible?" Kayama murmured, her eyes screwed shut as she struggled to summon back the murky image. "How could he look the exact same now as he did thirty years ago?"

Questions for later, she reminded herself, glancing down at her watch. I don't have time for this right now. I've already been in here too long.

Within thirty seconds, Aizawa's file was back in its folder, and the drawer was sealed shut and locked tight. Just as she was about to walk back through the double doors, though, Midnight stopped short, and cast a wistful glance over at the rows of cold lockers.

They'll be cremating him this weekend, at the funeral. It'll be closed casket for sure, with injuries that bad. It wouldn't hurt to say one last goodbye, would it? Without any nurses to interrupt.

Against her better judgement, Nemuri held an ear to the door to make sure no approaching footsteps were audible, then turned and strode over to the locker in question. 'Aizawa Shota,' the label read, in neat, official lettering. 'Age 33. Cause of Death: Blunt force trauma, multiple puncture wounds'. A simple lock was fastened tight around the metal handle just below, but Midnight quickly located the matching key. Another wave of cold air buffeted her as she pulled the heavy steel slab out from the wall, and Kayama shuddered, rubbing at her arms as she fastened the keyring back to her belt.

"How ya been holding up in there, Shota? Have any good…" Nemuri trailed off midsentence, her eyes widening in shock. "…dreams?"

The body in the locker was not Aizawa Shota's.

It was similar, to be sure – a lean, muscular man in his mid-thirties with shaggy black hair and stubble – but the eyes, the nose, all the other defining features were wrong. The mystery cadaver even had a few of the same injuries as Eraserhead, but the placement was off; none of it matched what Midnight remembered. The facsimile might have easily fooled a nurse or staffer who looked at dozens of bodies a day, but to Nemuri, the differences couldn't be clearer. Shaking her head in confusion, Midnight leaned back and glanced again at the locker's front panel to make sure she hadn't somehow opened the wrong one, but a quick glance sank that theory in a heartbeat. 'Aizawa Shota,' the label declared, more insistently this time. 'Age 33'.

"What the fuck?"

One hand on her forehead, Kayama pulled her phone from her handbag and snapped a picture of the body, then attached it in a text to Present Mic and Nezu, the first two contacts she could think of. Something's rotten here. This isn't a simple mix-up; someone took Shota's body on purpose, and went to the trouble of making sure the replacement looked convincing. Possible motives and suspects began to flash through Midnight's head at breakneck speed as she typed out a brief message explaining the basics of the situation and pressed send. The Syndicate seems like the most likely culprit, but what would they want with Shota's corpse? Is there some way they could…

Her train of thought was interrupted by the dull ping of a two-word error message:

'No signal.'

Right, this stupid basement again. Grimacing in frustration, Nemuri was about to turn to leave when she heard the morgue doors click shut behind her.

"Oh, dear. It seems you've seen it."

Kayama froze in place, then began to turn to face the voice's source slowly and deliberately, readying herself to tear her sleeve in an instant if necessary.

Standing opposite her was Garaki Kyudai, his beady eyes narrowed behind a pair of goggles. A gas mask covered his mouth and nose, and cradled in his arms was a small, grotesque creature with wide eyes, a smiling, bill-like mouth, and tiny sneakers capping off two short, stumpy legs. The top of its head was covered in exposed pink brain tissue and encased in glass, and two sets of electric diodes of some sort extended from either side of its round, soccer ball-sized body. A Nomu?! Nemuri realized, thinking back to the bioengineered creatures that had attacked Hosu City and the USJ. But they were all destroyed with the League! The production facility in Kamino Ward was demolished three years ago!

"Are you with the Syndicate?" Kayama asked in a calm, even tone, sliding the duplicate cadaver back into the wall. "Is that what this is all about?"

Let's see if I can get him talking for a while – I need to buy myself some time to think. He's taken precautions against my quirk, and I can't call for backup. I also can't just go rushing in to attack him without knowing what that little monster he's holding is capable of.

Garaki let out a deep, hearty chuckle.

"You wound me, my dear. The Syndicate is nothing more than an upstart band of amateurs and turncoats, breaking bread with outdated gangsters and washed-up internet celebrities. They've played a useful role in helping keep you heroes distracted, but at the end of the day, they owe their current era of infamy to little more than blind luck. That, and my master's ambivalence." The doctor's tone and expression grew almost reverent in the final few words of his speech, and Nemuri felt a shiver race up her spine.

"Master? Are you some kind of All For One loyalist? Tell me what you did with Shota's body, and maybe I can get you two adjoining cells in Tartarus."

"Oho! She's a clever one, isn't she?" Garaki looked down at the diminutive Nomu in his arms and stroked its head like a cat, prompting a garbled screech in reply. "Too clever for her own good, unfortunately. Bring them in, Johnny."

After another distorted squawk, the Nomu opened its mouth wide, and three swirling masses of greyish-black liquid appeared out of thin air, one on every side of her. The warping quirk from Kamino?! What the hell is he bringing here?!

Swearing viciously under her breath, Nemuri opted for a tactical retreat rather than waiting to find out, and launched into a sprint for the doors, fully prepared to knock Garaki flat in the process. She wouldn't get the opportunity, though; Midnight was only halfway across the room when a muscular arm grabbed hold of her from behind and slammed her body against the wall of lockers like a ragdoll. Bright stars and splotches of colored light filled her vision, and for a few moments she drifted close to blacking out from the pain; only sheer willpower kept her from slipping under. When she came back to her senses several long seconds later, warm, wet blood was dripping steadily down the back of her head, and a Nomu's blackish-purple fist was wrapped around her neck, pinning her to the wall. There were three of them towering over her- the one restraining her had an elongated neck covered in exposed muscle, its head concealed by a hood of skin. Only two slit-like yellow eyes were visible in the darkness shrouding its face, glowing menacingly as the ceiling lights flickered overhead.

From this angle, Kayama couldn't make out the other two quite as clearly, but the one on her left had a long, antenna-like appendage extending from the top of its head, while the skull of the one on her right had an angular, metallic appearance, with a prominent spiked protrusion jutting from its chin.

My only chance is to feign unconsciousness, Midnight realized, letting her eyes visibly flutter shut before cracking them open again at the smallest increment possible, just enough to see a blurry picture of what was going on around her. Just one of these things overpowered me in an instant, and it could kill me just as easily if I screw things up. Releasing all the tension in her neck, she allowed her head to flop limply to one side, coming to a rest on the hooded Nomu's massive thumb, and at the same moment, her arms and legs ceased their struggling and fell still.

"So puny," It declared in a deep, guttural voice, revealing two rows of long white teeth. "She already… already fainted. Can I… kill her?"

Wait, they talk now?! You've gotta be kidding me.

"Not quite yet," The doctor replied. "She may have some useful information for us once she awakes. Do see that you restrain her completely, though – I'd rather not take any chances.

"I'll… handle it," the Nomu to her left declared, extending its prehensile antenna to wrap tight around Nemuri's arms as the hooded one finally released its grip on her neck. Careful not to try and control her body in any noticeable way, Midnight let herself fall slack in the antenna Nomu's coils as it began to carry her towards the door.

"So boring," the one on the right declared, turning to face the doctor. "Are all heroes… so boring?"

"When can we fight the strong ones?" The hooded one asked, turning its head as well.

"All in due time, my beautiful High-Ends! Now that you've fully matured, your testing phase will…"

Now or never.

With two of the three Nomu looking the other direction and the doctor droning on, Midnight surged to life. In the span of half a second, she jerked up her right leg and used the pointed heel of her boot to rip through the fabric on her opposite leg, all the way from her inner thigh to her calf. Fragrant purple gas spilled from the tear and began to diffuse through the room before any of the three bioengineered creatures fully realized what was happening.

"I told you to restrain her completely!" Garaki shrieked, his eyes wide with fear and fury in equal measures as the Nomu's movements rapidly grew sluggish and lethargic; the closest of the three to her, the antenna Nomu was the first to crumple to the floor, its grip on her arms slackening before the muscular appendage retracted altogether. The moment her hands were free, she crossed her arms and ripped apart both of her sleeves, increasing the potency of Somnambulist threefold.

Thank god they're all male, Nemuri reflected, rising to her feet just in time to twirl out of the way of two clumsy, telegraphed swings by the hooded Nomu. If my quirk hadn't worked on them, I really would've been screwed.

"W-What is this?" It grunted, falling to its knees. "Why… why so… sleepy?"

"P-Poison," the metalhead replied, clawing at its own face as it stumbled backward in a panic. "D-Don't breathe it in…"

Their resilience is incredible, Kayama noted, dodging one final blow from the hooded Nomu before it collapsed. With this much of my skin exposed, any normal human within twenty feet of me would be out in an instant.

"Impossible," the doctor whimpered, backing steadily into the corner by the record cabinets as the last of his three Nomu slumped to the floor and drew still, and Midnight began to advance towards him once more. "This is impossible! Johnny, wake up and get me out of-"

Midnight's black leather boot slammed into Garaki's face before he could finish his sentence, breaking his glasses, mask, and nose all in one blow. Already fast asleep, the little Nomu tumbled out of the doctor's arms as he fell back to the floor, tears and blood flowing down his face in equal measure in the brief instant before Somnambulist took effect. Within a heartbeat Garaki was unconscious, his wrinkled, teary eyes rolled back in his head as his body lay eagle-splayed on the cold white linoleum.

"Well," Midnight breathed, panting as she rested her hands briefly on her hips, "that was certainly something."

Despite her victory, though, pain was still shooting through Nemuri's skull with every beat of her heart, and her vision had begun to blur in and out, coupled with a persistent ringing in her ears. Ooh, that's gonna be a concussion. Blinking in discomfort at the brightness of the lights on the ceiling, she reached down and grabbed the doctor by the collar of his lab coat in an attempt to drag him out the door behind her, but quickly gave up on the effort when he proved much denser than expected.

"Police will… come get him," she muttered to herself, stumbling towards the exit as her sense of balance slowly began to worsen. The blood from her wound was making its way down her back now, leaving a steady trail of red droplets on the floor behind her. Just as Midnight flung open the doors, though, a low, electric hum became audible somewhere behind her, and she paused for a beat, uncertain whether it was real or another symptom of her concussion.

The answer became clear half a second later, when the hum suddenly rose in volume to a roar, and a beam of white-hot energy sliced through her right knee from behind, severing the limb in an instant.

Gasping out in pain and shock, Midnight stumbled forward on her one remaining leg and flung her body out onto the hallway, glancing back at her attacker as she skidded to a halt outside the swinging double doors, one of which now sported a curved stripe of molten metal where it had been struck by the beam.

"Got… you." The metalhead Nomu declared, smoke wafting upwards from its glowing eyes. Still lying prone on the floor, it seemed to be taking all the strength the creature had just to keep its head raised to face her.

Did it fake falling asleep?! Midnight wondered, dragging herself through the doorway out of its line of sight as her vision continued to was no time to speculate, though: her condition was worsening fast, and there was no telling how much longer it would take for the Nomu to completely succumb to her quirk, especially as she moved farther away from it. As if to prove her point, another beam of energy tore through the cinderblock wall with a hissing sound just moments later, only missing her head by a hair.

"SOMEONE, HELP!" Nemuri bellowed at the top of her lungs, letting the sound of her voice echo through the darkened corridors. When combat and escape were both impossible, this was often a hero's last resort: the desperate hope that an ally was near enough to hear their voice. "PLEASE, IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, CALL THE POLICE!"

The cute little receptionist, a pissed-off security guard, anyone would be fine, she prayed, continuing to claw her way forward along the floor as a third energy beam carved a twisting path through the wall just above her.

"CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?!" Midnight shouted, straining her voice to its limit as tears of frustration and agony began to well in her eyes. "PLEASE!"

Moments later, footfalls began to sound out around the next corner. Grabbing hold of a metal pipe running along the wall a meter above her, Nemuri began to pull herself back upright as they drew nearer, swaying unsteadily as she attempted to rest her weight on her one remaining foot. Back in direction of the morgue, the energy blasts had finally stopped, giving her a glimmer of hope that the metalhead Nomu was asleep by now.

The approaching footsteps drew to a stop just short of rounding the corner, and Midnight squinted through the shadows as she continued to lurch forward with both hands on the pipe, one laborious step at a time.

"Hello? Handsome, is that you? Don't come any closer, or my quirk'll put you out like a light."

The answer came in the form of a dull whoosh and a heavy thud, like something had just been thrown to the ground. As luck would have it, the defective light overhead flickered to life just in time to illuminate the bloodied and broken corpse of the receptionist, skidding to a halt directly in front of her.

"Oh," was all Midnight could manage to say as a fourth Nomu stepped out to face her, unmistakably female in its anatomy. Behind her exposed brain and narrow, glowing yellow eyes, she sported messy, shoulder-length hair, as white as the jagged crest of bone protruding just above it. Her hands and forearms were splattered with the young man's blood, and when she saw the expression of horror on Nemuri's face, the Nomu let out a twisted chuckle. Her mouth and chin tapered to a narrow, beaklike point, but opened to reveal sharp white teeth the size of steak knives when she began to speak.

"He saw you come down here… had to dispose of him. Wasn't much fun… he died too fast."

"Fucking monster," Midnight growled, her brows furrowed in rage. Putting everything she had left into Somnambulist, she reached down and tore the fabric from what remained of her right leg, filling the narrow hallway with a swelling cloud of lavender fumes.

The female Nomu watched the mist with childlike curiosity as it wafted toward her, making no effort to back away. Once it had enveloped her fully, she inhaled a deep breath, then looked down at Midnight with a wide, toothy smile.

"Smells nice."

Ah, fuck.

Nemuri made a hasty, desperate attempt to backpedal, but only made it one shaky step away before the Nomu surged forward and grabbed her by the throat, hoisting her into the air with ease. The creature began to squeeze the moment she had Midnight in her grip, still smiling as she shoved her up against the wall.

"No fun," the Nomu lamented, its voice growing fainter and fainter as darkness began to tug at the corners of Nemuri's vision. "You're no fun either. A hero should be… stronger than this."

You want strong, huh?

Lashing out with the last ounce of strength left in her body, Midnight lifted up her left leg as high as it would go and drove the heel of her boot directly into the Nomu's narrow yellow eye, then twisted it for good measure. Blackish blood spurted out from the wound, and the female paused for moment, slackening her grip on Nemuri's neck.

"That hurts a little…" the Nomu crooned, laughing once more as she reached up and broke Kayama's shin with a single squeeze of her free hand. "But still too weak."

Before the sensation of the fracture could even register, the female pivoted and slammed Midnight into the floor. Searing pain lanced through Nemuri's skull, even stronger than before, and all at once everything faded to black.

Y'all have no idea how excited I am to finally integrate the Doctor and the High-Ends into the story, so I hope this introduction didn't disappoint! What do you think our dear old Doc could want with Eraserhead? Any speculation as to Midnight's fate, or what Nezu wanted to tell her?

I've been wanting to showcase Gang Orca's gentler side for a while now (Horikoshi's character descriptions make it clear that he's just a big softie at heart), so this seemed like a fitting opportunity. I've also always wanted to include Ms. Joke, but I'm sad it had to be like this.

I'll probably be dipping back over to Rhapsody in Green (Chapter 6 is in progress!) before continuing this story, but just keep in mind that wait times in general should shorter than before now that I have more free time again. Best regards in these unusual times, and don't forget to leave a review if you're enjoying the story!