The incident arrived without sirens.
Not every danger announced itself loudly.Some crept into the world through whispers, glances, and misaligned breaths.
Renya's hero tag buzzed at 15:47.
FIELD REQUEST – LEVEL YELLOWLocation: Kirisawa Transit Hub (Main Terminal)Nature: Panic chain / unknown triggerAssigned: Kurotsuki Renya + Partner (Hoshi)
He stared at it for three seconds.
Then he folded the last page of a student reflection he'd been reviewing, put on his coat, and called across the classroom, "Hoshi. We leave."
She was already halfway to the door.
The tram ride to Kirisawa felt heavier than usual.Not because of people — the car was nearly empty — but because Renya's resonance was already brushing against something ahead.
A pulse.Uneven.Erratic.Like a heartbeat skipping at the wrong intervals.
Hoshi felt it too.
"Someone's breaking," she whispered.
"Not one," Renya said quietly. "Several."
She looked up at him. "A crowd reaction?"
"Yes."
"Triggered by what?"
"I don't know yet."
She tightened her grip on the rail. "And we're going into that?"
He met her eyes."Yes."
She nodded once.
Not bravado.Not recklessness.Acceptance.
Kirisawa Transit Hub was the third-largest terminal in Musutafu — a crossroads of trams, buses, food stalls, and too many people moving with too little awareness.
Today, the air was wrong the moment they stepped in.
Not loud.Not violent.But brittle.
People stood in strange clusters — tightly packed groups of five or six, all facing different directions, frozen mid-motion, whispering contradictory things.
"What happened?""Don't move—""He moved— I saw him—""Stay together— stay still—""No, spread out—""Someone said run— who said run—?"
Not quite panic.
More like…confusion spiraling around an invisible center.
Police were present, but only watching — hesitant to escalate.
One officer recognized Renya instantly and hurried over.
"Hero Kurotsuki? Thank god. We have a situation. No injuries yet, but the air's turning."
Hoshi asked, "What was the trigger?"
"We don't know," the officer said. "Witnesses disagree. Some said someone shouted. Some said someone fell. Others said they saw something. Each group thinks something different. They're feeding each other's fear."
Renya's eyes narrowed.
"Echo panic."
The officer blinked. "What?"
"A feedback loop," Renya said. "Fear without a focal point. It spreads through interpretation, not events."
Hoshi whispered, "Resonance."
Renya nodded once.
The officer gestured wildly. "We tried shouting instructions! Telling them to separate or line up or calm down— nothing works. They only listen to each other."
Renya almost said "Of course they do."People in fear don't listen upward.They listen sideways.
He stepped forward.
The shadows beneath his feet adjusted — aligning with the fractured emotional signatures around him.
He didn't activate his Quirk.He didn't need to.
He inhaled and let the Abyss inside his mind tilt toward the terminal.
The environment answered immediately.
Every shadow in the hall — long, short, thin, thick — shifted half a centimeter in Renya's direction.
Not visibly enough to alarm anyone.But perceptible to those caught in resonance.
Hoshi felt it.She steadied her breath.
Renya spoke.
"Don't shout instructions," he said to the officer. "Don't tell them what to do."
"Then what do we do?" the officer asked.
"We listen."
Renya walked into the center of the terminal.
People froze at the sight of him — not because he was famous, but because his presence felt like the only unmoving point in a room vibrating off-balance.
He knelt.
A small gesture.Meaningless to most.Crucial to those who needed something stable.
Hoshi stood at his shoulder, eyes sweeping the clusters.
Renya extended his hand palm-down and touched the floor.
The Abyss responded.
A faint ripple — emotional, not physical — spread through the terminal like a stone dropped into water.
Not a command.Not an aura.
A reference point.
People turned.
Confused.Uncertain.But drawn.
"Partner," Renya said softly.
Hoshi stepped forward. "What do you need?"
"Go cluster to cluster," he said. "Ask one question. Only one."
"What question?"
"The same as yesterday," Renya said. "'What exactly are you afraid is happening?'"
Hoshi nodded sharply. "Understood."
She moved.
Not quickly.Not loudly.But precisely.
Hoshi approached the first cluster — six people huddled too closely, whispering over each other.
"Excuse me," she said gently. "Can someone tell me what you think is happening?"
They flinched.Then an older woman answered, "Someone said there was a fight."
Hoshi nodded. "Did you see one?"
"No."
"Did anyone here?"
No one answered.
"Thank you," Hoshi said. "Stay with that thought."
She moved on.
Second cluster:
"We heard running— we thought— someone ran— someone—"
"Did you see the person running?" Hoshi asked.
"No— no, we just heard— someone said— we're not sure—"
"Thank you," she said. "Hold that thought."
Third cluster:
"A scream! I swear someone screamed!"
"From where?" Hoshi asked.
A pause.Shrinking.
"I… don't know."
"Thank you."
Four clusters.Five.Seven.
Renya felt the pattern crystallizing.
Every group had its own imagined trigger.None had proof.All reacted to the reactions of others.
A self-feeding panic chain.
A perfect environment for resonance.
He closed his eyes.
Reached into the emotional field.
And felt it:
Fear braided with confusion.Confusion braided with assumptions.Assumptions braided with imitation.
A perfect circular loop.
He exhaled.
"Partner."
Hoshi returned to his side. "Everyone has a different story, none confirmed."
"Then we pull the stories apart."
"How?" she asked.
Renya rose.
He didn't amplify his voice.He simply let the Abyss carry it.
"Everyone."
The word echoed unnaturally well across the hall.
The clusters turned.
"Stand where you are," Renya said. "Don't move."
A few shuffled nervously.Most froze.
Good.
He raised one hand.
"You are afraid. Not because of a threat. Because of each other."
A wave of whispers rippled.
Renya continued, voice calm:
"You heard something.Someone else heard something.Your fears collided.And your conclusions multiplied."
Todoroki from across the crowd would have called it "emotional thermodynamics."
Renya called it "the Abyss finding footholds."
He pointed at the nearest cluster.
"You.Tell me exactly what you think happened."
A man stepped forward. "Someone said there was a fight."
Renya turned his head.
"You.What did you hear?"
A teenage boy swallowed. "Running."
Renya pointed again.
"You."
"A scream— maybe."
Renya nodded.
Three stories.Three fictions.Three mirrors.
He lifted his hand.
The shadows around his feet lengthened — only slightly — reaching toward the nearest support pillar.
People gasped softly.
Not in fear.
In alignment.
Renya tapped the ground with the toe of his shoe.
A faint pulse moved outward.
Small.Controlled.Calibrated.
And the Abyss answered.
Every shadow in the terminal twitched — by less than a centimeter — then steadied.
The crowd collectively exhaled.
Renya spoke.
"Your stories do not match because there was no single event."
Silence.Complete.
"Your fear multiplied itself," he said. "That is all."
One woman whispered, "Then… what should we do?"
Renya gestured downward.
"Stand."
The entire terminal went quiet.Even the police paused.
Renya crouched slightly.
"Simple posture," he said. "Feet grounded. Body centered. Shoulders down."
Hoshi mirrored him.Dozens of people followed.Then dozens more.Then the rest.
The tension loosened like a knot pulled open.
Renya lifted his hand slowly.
"The panic ends here," he said. "Because you decide that it does."
And the Abyss sealed the moment — a quiet pulse spreading outward, dissolving the last thread of resonance feeding the confusion.
The clusters stopped whispering.People looked around at each other.Some apologized.Some laughed nervously.Some sank to the floor in exhausted relief.
The officer stared."What… did you just do?"
Renya didn't turn.
"I stopped giving their fear anything to cling to."
After the scene was cleared, Hoshi walked beside him toward the exit.
"That was different," she said.
"Yes."
"That felt like… more than before."
"Yes."
"Are you controlling the resonance now?"
"No," Renya said.
"Then what?"
He looked forward, eyes sharp.
"I'm negotiating with it."
Hoshi shivered. "Is that safe?"
"No."
"Then why continue?"
He finally looked at her.
"Because if I don't," he said, "someone else eventually will."
She swallowed.
"Then we keep going," she said.
"Yes," Renya replied. "We keep going."
The Abyss pulsed faintly beneath his ribs — listening, watching, learning.
And waiting to see what Renya would shape next.