Rain. That’s what the pros always say washes the city clean. But tonight, it just hides the blood in the gutters.

Every major agency’s out. Hawks circling overhead, Endeavor’s team cutting through the alley grids, even the sidekicks moving like a net. They’re not hunting a villain. They’re hunting you.

The media calls you a rumor. The Commission calls you a liability. The League calls you an opportunity.

They all think they know what you are — some kid playing hero without a license, without control. They whisper about your Quirk like it’s a weapon no one’s meant to wield. Maybe they’re right.

—

Downtown Hosu District — 22:47 hours.

The city hums with tension. Neon signs flicker over wet pavement, and the sound of distant sirens bleeds into the rain.

From a rooftop vantage, the flames of Endeavor burn low — restrained, but never calm. His breath curls in the cold night air. Around him, a small task force of pro heroes waits for the signal.

“Report.” His voice cuts through the comms like a blade.

Hawks’ voice answers first, sharp and lazy as ever.

“Got eyes on movement near block 14. Could be our ghost, could be a stray cat. Either way, the kid’s slippery — even the feathers can’t get a clean read.”

A flash of static, then another voice chimes in — Kamui Woods, precise and disciplined.

“We’ve cordoned off a three-block radius. No civilians in the area. If the target’s here, we’ll corner them soon.”

Mt. Lady, adjusting her earpiece with a frown, mutters,

“All this for one kid? I’ve seen hostage ops with less manpower.”

Endeavor doesn’t look at her. His eyes are fixed on the skyline — glowing, pulsing, alive.

“This isn’t just a kid. The Commission said their Quirk’s potential rivals a top-tier hero. If the League gets to them first…” He lets the thought hang, unfinished — but the silence says enough.

Hawks chuckles over the channel.

“So it’s a race, huh? Heroes versus villains. Classic. Guess we’d better win the PR battle too.”

“Focus,” Endeavor snaps. “We’re not here for headlines.”

For a moment, all that’s heard is the soft hiss of rain. Somewhere far below, a billboard flickers — “Support Your Local Heroes!” — before shorting out completely.

Then the comms crackle again. A young field agent’s voice, nervous, breathless.

“Sir, we’ve got a sighting near the riverfront. Fast — too fast for a normal civilian. They’re headed east.”

Endeavor’s eyes narrow.

“All units converge. Now.”