Chapter Text
Everybody knew who All Smite was. Even outside of Japan, he was a phenomenon, an inaugurator of never-ending moral debates. All Smite: a criminal, that slayed criminals.
Nobody knew his story, his motives, nor his weaknesses. He didn’t wear a mask, but his true name was unknown, and he somehow made no appearances as a civilian at all. The number one hero, Endeavor, had been smashed into concrete the time he had attempted to bring All Smite into justice, to the point most heroes were hesitant to confront him or even fearful of running into him. An S rated criminal in every aspect; he was strong, smart, fast, and wore a charismatic smile in place that never wavered, not even as he beat his enemies to a pulp. It was terrifying.
There weren’t many pictures of him going around, at least not ones that weren’t a blurry disaster, which was to be expected considering he mostly worked in secluded areas at night and moved faster than a bullet. Nevertheless, a brief description of him along with a facial composite were plastered at every police station in Japan; blond hair that stuck up by the forehead, light blue eyes that shone in the dark, wide and thin mouth, huge build, usually seen wearing shoulder pads with metal spikes on them and dark clothes. Shouta knew it by heart already.
Every day, the news had the same back and forth between journalists, the country breaking into two as half of it rooted for All Smite, while the other half wanted him locked up.
“He is too powerful, and a mass murderer, it is a matter of time before he becomes a loose bullet. Today you agree with whom he’s killing, but what if tomorrow you don’t?”, “He’s only killing the worst scum, the ones that are beyond repair.”, “Who is he to decide who’s beyond repair?”, and so on, and on.
It wasn’t Shouta’s problem anyway. He was just an underground hero trying to both make a living and stop petty criminals before they could escalate. Sometimes, he even managed to talk them out of it, most being a result of a failed society, either desperate to matter or for their needs to be seen.
That was until the bureaucracy made it Shouta's problem with the announcement that any hero that didn’t stop or at the very least inform of All Smite’s whereabouts to somebody above in the ladder upon encountering him, would have their hero license revoked. Apparently, All Smite was digging a hole in the hero system’s reputation, meaning that the people who made a business out of it were pissed. As a result, they punished every single hero in the structure for not interfering when encountering a criminal that could easily smash the number one hero into concrete. A wonderful arrangement that was evidently far from fair.
Using one’s quirks without a hero’s license was punishable, which meant going Vigilante if your license was revoked was a pain in the ass; it made you a target, and not everybody was as slippery from justice as All Smite was. To a person that usually apprehended criminals, going Vigilante would potentially mean being sent to prison, a place crowded with people you either sent there, or resented you for your morals. Not an option.
Shouta had never run into All Smite, but he knew it was a matter of time, the anti-hero sharing both his schedule and operation area. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact All Smite murdered the criminals that he occasionally deemed unworthy of mercy, he’d probably be considered an underground hero of sorts.
It happened during a hot and humid night, the kind that made clothes stick to one’s body uncomfortably and skin sweat even while staying still. Shouta hated it, to the point he was starting to consider rolling up his sleeves and the hem of his pants, but constantly decided against it each time the idea occurred to him. The moon, at least, was full and bright, making every object it’s light touched luminescent, and every dark corner that was left out a contrasting darkness. It wasn’t a good setting for criminals, too uncomfortably sticky and illuminated, which meant his patrol was going smooth and encouraged walking the streets instead of jumping from one rooftop to another in a rush.
It was silent, except for some crickets, stray animals and the sporadic buzzing of a light; which meant that Shouta heard the shouting loud and clear. He rushed, his clothes sticking to the joints of his legs, his footsteps swift as he checked each dark corner close by with his goggles down and ready, until he found where the noise had come from.
At the end of an alleyway, the shadowed figure of a man caught Shouta’s attention, the outline of his body turning clearer as he walked closer stealthily.
Big muscles, spikes on the shoulders, two locks of hair standing up in a V shape. The man stood with one hand soaked in red, droplets of liquid hitting the ground periodically as he breathed in and out. Next to him, Shouta could make out two legs that popped out from behind a waste container, the object hindering him from seeing the person that was laying on the ground. Shouta didn’t need to see more anyway, he was certain the person was dead.
The atmosphere was still, but it felt filled with electricity. No wind was blowing, all the colors looked black and white due to the full moon shining relentlessly, and the only sound that echoed on the alleyway’s closed in walls was All Smite’s breathing as Shouta tried his best to keep his as silent as possible.
Should he report this? Would that make All Smite hostile towards him? There was no indication of All Smite ever striking a hero that hadn’t physically attacked him first, almost all cases being measured self-defense that had only bought him time to run, except for Endeavor’s case. Shouta wasn’t certain if the higher level of aggressiveness All Smite had displayed with the number one hero was due to Endeavor’s own brutal force being reflected back at him, or Endeavor being a man of questionable morals, especially where his family was concerned, confronting an extreme moralist like All Smite.
It didn’t matter, before making a decision on whether he should report what was happening, he should get away from All Smite. After all, he wasn’t even sure what Smite’s quirk was or if he was capable of erasing it, meaning distance was key.
He carefully walked backwards towards the alleyway entrance, keeping his eyes on All Smite every second. This meant he wasn’t looking where he stepped, which didn’t seem like a mistake until the sound of a trash bag being crushed under the sole of his boot reached his ears. He looked downwards, and saw in what felt like slow motion as an empty tin can fell from the opened bag, rolling slowly its way out until settling against a pile of trash on the opposite wall, the sound of it echoing too loud in the silent night. Shit.
Fearful of looking at the spot where All Smite had been, he felt his legs shamefully shake as he noticed the sound of breathing that had come from the man in front of him wasn’t there anymore. It couldn’t have taken more than two seconds, yet when Shouta gathered the courage to look upwards once again, All Smite wasn’t there anymore.
He didn’t get to think All Smite was gone before a hand pressed firmly against his mouth, and an arm circled his waist, pushing his body backwards against a wall of muscle. He panicked, reaching for the hand on his mouth, trying to push it away with no success, feeling how scratching hurt his own fingernails instead of All Smite’s skin.
He couldn’t turn around, couldn’t even try to erase All Smite, all he could do after his struggles to escape failed, was let his body go limp against All Smite’s as he tried to control his breathing. Pull yourself together, you’re a fucking underground hero, he kept repeating to himself, the feeling of his legs shaking still present.
“Eraserhead.” He heard against his ear in a low yet sharp tone, so close that he felt the hot air caressing his skin.
Holy shit. All Smite knew who he was. He was fucked, utterly fucked. He sniffed in response, the intake of breath shaky like the rest of him, almost a choke, and tried to reach for his capture weapon, not even sure what he wanted to do with it. In a second the arm that held him in place by the waist was letting go, grabbing both his wrists in a swift movement to press them against his own hip, pushing until he couldn’t move once again and getting pinned even harder against the man at his back. There was no winning. It was simply impossible, inhuman, if Shouta couldn’t look at All Smite he had no chance, he moved faster than Shouta was even capable of thinking.
“Stop moving. I have no interest in hurting you.” Smite spoke close to his ear once again, the short hairs on Shouta’s neck standing in reaction.
What Smite said seemed to be… true, his wrists were being held firmly, but not to the point of hurting, just enough to be completely immobilized. He breathed in and out, blinking rapidly against his goggles, body soaked in sweat at the mixture of stress, adrenaline, and the warm humidity in the air. He went limp once again, All Smite’s hands and front holding him in place.
“You are a good one, you don’t need to fear me.”
Shouta inhaled once again through his nose, trying to calm himself down. All Smite wasn’t known for playing tricks, but how could he know for sure? It was his first encounter with All Smite and it wasn’t exactly looking like a tea party. He couldn’t help but feel fear, not at such a close demonstration of what All Smite could do; his speed, his strength, and the body of a man he had just murdered a few feet in front of them.
As if sensing his train of thought, All Smite hummed, his abdomen vibrating against Shouta’s back, the height difference impossible to ignore. “That one there was another case. Trust me.”
Shouta pressed his teeth together, his jaw locked in place like a dog’s. Why? Why would he trust him?
“I’m going to let you go, and you’re not going to try to erase or capture me. You’re not even sure your quirk will work with me, right? We work in the same areas most of the time, I’m certain we will run into each other again, don’t you think it’s better if we get along? Now, don’t shout.” All Smite slowly removed the hand that was on his mouth, still holding his wrists with the other one. He was testing the waters, as if Shouta was a scared animal that could bite any second.
“Is that a threat?” Shouta asked after his mouth was freed, sounding breathless. He spoke fast, knowing his voice would tremble otherwise.
All Smite snorted, lips still too close for comfort. He seemed to be crouching or keeping his head lowered with his body almost enveloping Shouta from behind, because otherwise there was no way Shouta’s ear was level with his mouth. “It’s not a threat. It’s a fact. You work with facts.”
How much did All Smite know about him? He kept throwing bones at him, careful not to throw everything at once, but it was clear he knew plenty about how Shouta behaved.
“After I leave, you’ll report this.”
That wasn’t stated like a fact, but an order.
“Wait, what?” Shouta turned his head to the side, still unable to see All Smite when pressed against him, but making out part of his outfit from the corner of his eye. The spikes on his shoulder pads were being held at a calculated yet careful distance, so as not to poke Shouta.
“I’m done for the night; it would be a waste if you lost your hero license over nothing. Okay?”
Shouta nodded hesitantly, still unsure why he was being asked to report the encounter as he felt his jaw rubbing against All Smite’s collar bone due to his head movement. Right after his non-verbal confirmation, he felt All Smite removing his hands from him completely, and stepping away. Before Shouta could turn around, a gust of wind directed upwards indicated the other’s departure.
His knees almost gave away, but he managed to pull himself together and walk towards the waste container in order to take a look at the corpse behind it. There was nothing recognizable about the man’s face, skull so sunken in that his eye sockets and nostrils merged together, skin detached from the muscle due to how far it had been pushed to stretch to accommodate to the new shape.
Had All Smite done such thing with his bare hand?
Shouta looked downwards, finding he was stepping on a pool of blood, and remembered seeing All Smite’s hand soaked in the same crimson liquid. He checked his own wrists, that had been held in place by the wanted criminal, to find them painted in red as well.
Right. Made sense.
Shouta staggered to a corner and threw up.
Paperwork was not the first thing you wanted to do when your hands were still shaking from fear. Shouta wanted to go to his crappy apartment, the one that had leaks on the ceiling and torn wall paper but still felt safe in its solitude.
He handed in the report at the police station, the sun already peeking behind the buildings on the window, his body by then requesting sleep instead of coffee. The policewoman that checked the report to confirm it kept looking at the papers and then at Shouta, his sleeves still reeking of blood despite having washed his wrists clean at the station’s restroom compulsively.
“Did you leave the body there?” She asked, her eyes wide open.
“No, I waited until the police appeared. They were doing rounds at the time it happened, it’s by the end of the report there.” He leant forwards, grabbed the paper to fold it in such way he could read, and pointed at the line in which he had stated the names of the policemen unlucky enough to pass by. “I left when they arrived.”
“I understand.” She mumbled, looking at the paper once again. “It’s ok, you can leave, we will gather other witnesses, check for security cameras, and contact you again.”
Shouta nodded, then turned around and walked towards the exit. He was in the system after all, they knew where to call him.
It took only a day for somebody to contact him, he wasn't expecting anything less, considering All Smite was involved. Surprisingly, the person who contacted him requested they met at a café instead of at the station, saying they were going to head home after their brief encounter and the café was on the way to their house.
When Shouta arrived, eyebags more present than ever, the person that had agreed to meet with him stood up from their table, indicating the seat in front of their own for him to join.
“I’m detective Tsukauchi Naomasa, nice to meet you.” The man said, extending his hand.
“Eraserhead.” Shouta mumbled, shaking the detective’s hand briefly before sitting down.
The detective sat down as well, a steaming cup of coffee already in front of him, and lifted a hand up to order another one for Shouta after getting confirmation that Eraserhead wanted to drink coffee as well.
“I’m part of the research team that the state has pulled together in order to investigate All Smite.” Tsukauchi said, pausing to sip at his coffee. “I’ve been informed you ran into him a night ago. How did that encounter go?”
Shouta rubbed the palm of his hand against his face tiredly as he sighed. “I wouldn’t say it went smooth. I’m sure you read the report, I heard a scream and found him next to a dead body, he proceeded to disappear in a second before I was grabbed from the back in such way I couldn’t use my quirk on him. He made it clear he knew who I was, had an idea of how my quirk worked, and even had information on personality traits of mine that would require continuous observation in order to be obtained.” He stopped a second as a worker came over to hand him his coffee, then proceeded. “He said he wouldn’t hurt me, so it seems like I passed his judgement or whatever. Doesn’t mean that having a man you don’t know that is capable of killing you with his bare hands in your blind spot feels nice.”
Naomasa nodded, then reached for a briefcase on the seat next to him, extracting a folder from it and sliding the documents towards Shouta’s direction. “This was the man whose body you saw.”
Shouta furrowed his brows at that, had they found him so fast? His identity couldn’t have been deduced from his face because he definitely didn’t have a face by the time Shouta saw him. He reached for the folder, opening it to see a picture of how the man used to look like.
Quirk: hypnosis.
Observation: his quirk is too weak to work on most adults, since their will is developed and they can break free from it. However, it works on young children, certain animals, or specific adults whose mental condition makes them more prone to manipulation.
Wanted for organ trafficking, specializes in children’s. Spent two years in prison before he was freed by a group of lawyers and experts that recommended house arrest and weekly therapy sessions instead.
Following the text were pictures that had been considered evidence during his trial, and that Shouta skipped through quickly, knowing they had been already been imprinted on him with just a glance due to how graphic they were. They looked level with what All Smite had done to the man’s face, that was for sure.
Shouta set the folder aside, placing his elbows on the table and rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers, closing his eyes and still seeing blood. “I see.”
“We had been looking for him for a while, he escaped house arrest almost immediately. It’s suspected the ones that got him out of prison in the first place were hired by his higher ups, since his quirk was convenient for business. It was never their plan to respect the conditions they had set with justice, he started working again as soon as he got out. At first, we thought he might have been forced to do such job, but after some research we found he used to have a normal job at a factory which he quit after telling his boss he had found a gig that’d get him the money he deserved. His first victim was found only a week after.”
Shouta stared at his coffee, processing what had been said to him, while Tsukauchi reached for the folder to put it away once again.
“The way this guy was murdered, it might have looked brutal, but in my honest opinion it’s the best outcome for him. A hit like that leaves no chance of survival. Sure, he must’ve been terrified when All Smite appeared in front of him, but other than shouting he didn’t get to do anything else, it was only a second and he was gone.”
Shouta furrowed his brows. “The best outcome for him was probably not getting murdered.”
Naomasa shrugged. “What about the children he opened up while they were still alive? The ones that couldn’t scream like he did because he was forcing his quirk on them. Was getting murdered like that the best outcome for them?”
Shouta slammed his hand against the table, his coffee shaking at the percussion “If Smite was capable of finding him, he could’ve just put him in prison again.”
“They would have got him out one more time. They have enough money to pay for the best lawyers, to bribe people in the system and threaten the rest. Meanwhile, the results of standard psychological tests carried out at prison showed he hadn’t an ounce of regret even after spending more than a year locked up.” Naomasa stated calmly, as if he had already gone through the whole speech countless times.
Shouta blinked at him, silently, until he understood where the detective was going. “You agree with All Smite.”
Tsukauchi didn’t respond at first, sipping the last of his coffee instead. “Half of Japan does, it’s not a surprise to find a percentage in the police department do as well.” He stood up, grabbing his briefcase. “Think about what I said. If you find you can understand why this happened, you have his number. I’ve already paid for the coffees before you came.” He took a small card from his overcoat’s pocket, sliding it on the table towards Shouta like he had done with the files, then bowed and left.
Shouta reached for the card, turning it over. A number was written on it, along with some words.
I promise I won’t hurt you,
Smite.