Kota stood frozen. His hands trembled as he watched the broken flood wall, chunks of concrete still crumbling, dust hanging like fog in the air. His heart thudded against his ribs. Ahead of him stood Mineta—silent, unreadable—his back turned to Kota, his gaze fixed on the woman beyond the smoke.
Nothing made sense.
What the hell was that just now?Mineta's Quirk didn't work like that. It never did. It couldn't.
And yet… the way he moved, the way his hand flared with that brutal force—it wasn't improvisation. It was practiced. Precise.
Was that even a weapon? Some new support item?
Kota's thoughts tripped over each other, jumbled and useless.
But one thought pressed itself to the front of his mind, louder than the others.
I'm not running. Not again.
He stepped forward. The gravel crunched under his foot. His breath still hadn't settled.
"I'm staying, Senpai," Kota said, his voice tighter than he intended. "I can help."
Mineta didn't turn to look at him. His eyes stayed on the figure in red standing just beyond the smoke.
"Your call," he replied simply.
No praise. No protest. Just acceptance.
The woman ahead of them—no, the thing ahead of them that wore a red robe, soaked from the knees down, as though she'd been walking through blood or something worse. Her smile was wide, unnatural.
It didn't reach her eyes. Those were calm. Focused.
"Oh my, this is fun~" she whispered, licking the blood from her chin. Her voice had a sweetness to it, something melodic. Something wrong.
Kota swallowed hard. "Who are you?"
She tilted her head, like a bird peering at prey.
"Toga," she said with a casual shrug. "Himiko Toga. Pleased to meet you~"
Kota's eyes widened. That name. That can't be. He'd seen it in the old files. The war archives. She shouldn't be alive.
She died 20 years ago.
She blew him a kiss. "I love both of you, by the way~ You're both so… raw."
Mineta didn't flinch. His jaw clenched. He stepped forward slightly, still balanced, still in control.
"Do I remind you of someone?" she asked, her voice teasing as she dragged her fingers down her ribs in a slow, exaggerated motion. "Do I stir something in that hero brain of yours?"
Mineta said nothing. He exhaled slowly.
Then he moved.
No theatrics. No grand declarations.
Just a silent dash. Efficient. Measured.
A jab aimed for her collarbone, followed by a rising elbow. A feint, then a sweep.
She blocked without panic. Danced away like she'd done it before.
"Cosplay freak," Mineta muttered under his breath as he adjusted his stance. "What, blood cults are trendy again?"
Toga giggled as she dodged a stream of water from Kota, twisting her body in a pirouette that made her robe flare like wings.
"Don't be mean~ I didn't pick this look. It was gifted to me."
Her expression shifted. Less playful. More… reverent.
Kota narrowed his eyes. "She's part of the cult."
"Clearly," Mineta replied. "But she's not just mouthing off. She believes it."
He flicked his eyes over to Kota, voice low. "We went in without a plan. That's on us."
"She jumped me before I could react," Kota muttered, shame creeping in. "I didn't even see a Quirk."
"She's a killer. She doesn't need one."
He watched her carefully. She still hadn't shown any powers. No transformations. Just knives, speed, and a rhythm that came from experience, not mutation.
"She's playing with us," Mineta said. "Either she's sure she can win, or she's bored. Either way—we don't give her what she wants."
"What is the plan?"
"We change the game."
He flicked two small spheres across the ground.
Psshh! Smoke burst upward, thick and gray, curling around their ankles.
From within the fog, Mineta's voice echoed faintly: "Let's dance, then."
Toga's laughter filtered through the haze.
"Oh, I don't like smoke," she said, her voice honeyed. "Can't see the cute faces I want to cut~"
Mineta crouched low. No sound. He slowed his breathing until it was nearly inaudible.
"She's listening for us."
He touched the ground gently, mapping vibrations. His instincts sharpened. Kota stood behind him, gathering water into a tight spiral, his knuckles white around the handle of his pump.
Then—
A whisper.
"Think it ends with me~?"
Kota spun, but too late.
A glint of steel flashed.
Pain bloomed in his side—a shallow cut, but enough to draw blood.
She was behind him.
Before Kota could fall, Mineta struck.
He'd been waiting. Not reacting—anticipating.
The hard spheres slammed into her wrist with surgical precision. Crack.
Her blade spun away.
She grinned through the pain. "So the rumors were true… you did change your Quirk."
She crouched, blood dripping from her arm.
"When prey gets desperate," she whispered, "sometimes it becomes beautiful."
Mineta didn't answer. He surged forward again.
Another knife appeared in her hand—she moved fast, too fast.
She slashed at him, but he blocked with his reinforced forearm. The orbs on his costume hardened, dulling the edge.
He slammed his knee into her gut.
She gasped.
Still, she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into a roll.
They hit the gravel hard.
Mineta grunted, broke free—but something tugged at his arm.
A syringe. Empty.
Toga stumbled up, giggling as she wiped her mouth.
"I missed that taste…"
Kota's voice cracked. "She got your blood—!"
Mineta didn't blink.
"Don't panic," he said. "Stay sharp. We stick to the plan."
Kota's breathing was ragged, but he nodded. The water held. Barely.
"She can turn into you now," Kota whispered."Maybe she has the same quirk as her"
Mineta didn't answer at first.
Then, flatly
"Then we don't give her time to use it."
He stepped into the fog again.
A shadow in motion.
A ghost with purpose.