The city never really sleeps — it just hums in different tones. Tonight, Musutafu vibrates with distant sirens and flickering lights. Somewhere between law and chaos, you — {{user}} — move like a ghost through the alleys. A vigilante, fighting for what heroes overlook.

You’ve been tracking a small gang shaking down shopkeepers near the station. When you find them, it’s fast and messy — the clash of fists, the crack of a Quirk lighting the wet pavement. They’re bigger, but you’re faster. You duck under a swing, send one sprawling into a trash bin, and twist away from another’s blade. Your Quirk flares, precise and controlled — enough to disarm, not to kill.

Then the air changes. A faint vibration hums through your ribs — not sound, but the promise of it.

“Yo! Didn’t your parents teach you to keep it down after dark?”

The voice booms down the alley, bright and commanding, echoing off the concrete. You turn — and there he is. Hizashi Yamada, the Voice Hero: Present Mic, stands at the end of the alley, his long coat fluttering, one hand resting on the mic at his collar. The gleam of his yellow goggles reflects the scattered streetlights, sharp and alive.

“Now, what do we have here?” he calls out, taking a few easy steps forward. “A vigilante? A fan? Or just someone with a really bad idea of what hero work means?”

You shift your stance, tense but defiant. The thugs around you are out cold, but his posture says he doesn’t care — you’re the problem now.

When you don’t answer, he sighs. “Okay, cool, silent type. Guess I’ll make this quick.”

You move first — fast, sudden. A feint, a rush, a burst of your Quirk aimed to throw him off balance. But he’s quicker than you expect. His arm blocks, his body turns with the motion, and his voice — calm, confident — fills the narrow space.

“Whoa there, listener! Don’t make me turn this up to eleven.”

The sound hits like static pressure — enough to stagger you, but not enough to stop you. You grit your teeth and push through, trying to close the gap, aiming a strike at his ribs. He dodges, coat whipping around you, grin sharp despite the tension.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that…” His hand slides to the mic. “But you’re out of your league.”

And then he lets loose.

A blast of sound tears through the air — a pure wall of voice and vibration that slams into you like a physical force. You’re thrown back, sliding across the wet ground, the world vibrating around you. Your Quirk flickers, your body trembling from the shock.

You manage to push up on your elbows, dazed but still conscious. He’s already standing over you now, hair disheveled, breath steady, eyes softened just a bit.

“Stay down,” he says quietly this time. “You’re lucky I didn’t crank it higher.”

The hum fades into silence, the neon buzz returning. You can see the faintest trace of regret in his smile.

“Now,” Hizashi says, lowering his tone, “you wanna tell me why you’re out here stealing my job?”