[NHK BROADCAST CENTER – TOKYO –]
*"On the topic of loss, perhaps a few dozen more families would like to make a note on that from two weeks prior,"*
The anchor's voice came from the other end.
*"You're talking about the 716."*
*"That's wrong. Now it's 715, isn't it?"*
*"We spent fourteen days grieving a tragedy. As cruel as it sounds, it would've been best if it had stayed that way because now, new questions have to be answered. If Akutami Yuta, a participant of that tragedy is in Japan, then where are the others?"*
*"Where are the mothers, the brothers, the commuters who were on that train with him?"*
*"The question of how and when their families receive official information about what happened to the Yamanote Line, who delivers it, and what it contains, is going to be one of the most consequential decisions made in the next seventy-two hours. If they continue to learn things from news broadcasts rather than from official sources—"*
*"I see what you mean. Public trust is already at an all time low. Now this?"*
*"The psychological impact of his return on those families... it's going to be devastating."*
*"It's a cruel irony,"* The sports Journalist Matsuda added on screen at the grainy footage of the subject displayed. *"His return confirms the worst-case scenario. We have received no news about any other possible survivors. The National Police Agency has not released a statement as well.
*"There is a chance that more survived but for now there is no report from either All Might, or U.A in question. For now, all paths point to All Might leaving to bring back the only one left..."*
Hayashi looked directly into the lens.
*"Which brings us to the final, most haunting question of the morning. If All Might can no longer be the answer, and the institutions that were supposed to have a backup plan demonstrably didn't... who exactly is responsible for what comes next?"*
The screen flickered, then died, as a remote-control button was pressed with a click.
"Turn it back on when they have something other than speculations to discuss," the Commissioner-General muttered, tossing the remote onto the mahogany table. In the National Police Agency Emergency Conference Room, the atmosphere was suffocating to the extreme.
The darkness of the room faded as the overhead fluorescent lights came on, revealing a table littered with classified dossiers and half-empty water bottles.
"With all due respect, sir, the panel has the pulse of the street better than we do right now," an officer replied.
"Countless inmates have been released from their cells Taga. Public security is probably at its lowest now. Getting the pulse of the street isn't our job." The Director of the NPA rubbed his temples. "Someone tell me how bad things are. Preferably with a solution to fix it."
"The 'solution' depends on your definition of the word, sir," a tactical commander replied, sliding a tablet toward the center of the table. "Current reports indicate that over twelve hundred inmates are unaccounted for across five different prefectures. The majority of them are in hiding but local police are overwhelmed in their searches. Heroes are assisting but with the HPSC tower gone and last night's events ... We aren't sure how long it'll last before we get more villain attacks."
"And the HPSC itself?" the Director asked, his eyes tracking a map of Japan that was rapidly turning red with incident reports.
"Paralyzed. The President is still in the ICU at Central Medical. The doctors say the shock of the amputation combined with the internal trauma... it'll be hours, maybe days."
"What about the rest?"
"Unfortunately sir there is no rest." The police director paused. "What?" His tone was gravely low.
"Um ... Well," the reporting officer swallowed while swiping his tablet. "The HPSC building was attacked by All For One sir and ... Destroyed in the subsequent battle against All Might. Endeavor and the president were only saved at the last minute before the building collapsed."
The screen showed the crater in Tokyo. "We haven't accounted for everyone but as of now, there is no one else left to take over. Most of the high officials in that building were killed off. Those who weren't in the building are currently ... Not responding to us."
"Not responding?" the Director's voice dropped to a dangerous level. "Are they dead, or are they deserting?"
"A bit of both, sir," the officer replied. "The regional directors in Kyushu and Hokkaido have gone 'radio silent.' We suspect they're waiting to see which way the wind blows before they commit to a falling administration. As for the Tokyo Headquarters, from what the recovery teams are pulling out of the rubble, the HPSC's upper management has been effectively decapitated."
The Director let out a harsh, jagged laugh that had no humor in it. "Decapitated. So we have a headless commission, forty-two quirkless heroes, and a civilian population in panic. And in the middle of it all, we have twelve hundred convicts breathing fresh air."
"That's ... Correct."
BANG! The director banged the table, body exuding anger like never before. "Idiots!" No one responded, nor were they any bit surprised.
For the Police Director who hardly ever showed emotion, such an outburst at the situation on hand was testament to how bad it was. Worse, the perpetrators were either dead or currently in a coma.
"Are we moving to remove her?" A board member asked. "Forget the others, this entire mess was primarily her authorization."
"Is that a solution?"
"Well, we do need someone to take the fall for this. The public is still somewhat calm now but as the situation deteriorates, there'll be calls for an answer."
"Do you think doing so will solve anything?"
The room went silent. The Director looked at the canine-faced Tsuragamae, who remained uncharacteristically quiet.
"Perhaps not, but it still needs to be done. The public doesn't know the details yet and misunderstandings can arise. Hero society has already suffered a significant blow due to last night's crisis. If people think the ones who saved them was responsible for all this indirectly, then we will have a much bigger problem on our hands."
"You're forgetting something important." Someone added quickly. "There's no one else available to take over from the current president. If we burn her now, the Commission collapses. If the Commission collapses, the licensing system goes with it. Without the HPSC, The hero system will fall by the end of the month."
"He's right," another board member added while tapping a pen against the table. "The HPSC isn't just a building. The current Hero system relies on them for organising heroes, paying salaries and keeping the hero rankings in order. Things are already bad enough as it is. One wrong move might lead to the mass resignation of heroes."
"That'll be followed with more villains, rising vigilantes and even greater public unrest."
"Then what do we do? We can't just let her go, can we?"
"We have to keep her in the chair. Even if it's a comatose body ... until we can stabilize the regional offices."
"Or we could try to take over."
"That's impossible." The Director huffed angrily. "Not only would we face severe political obstruction from every ministry and hero support company that hasn't been leveled yet, but we simply don't have the manpower, time, or qualifications. We're the police. We're already stretched thin just trying to keep the looting down and the survivors fed. We cannot be the accountants and the agents for four thousand heroes too. The HPSC needs to remain standing."
It was a bitter fact. Not everyone who became a hero was doing this from the goodness of their hearts. If the HPSC fell, then the prestige and Hero brand would fall with it.
"If the salaries stop being paid and the insurance payouts for property damage vanish, we won't just have villains in the streets; we'll have a mass withdrawal of the people supposed to stop them. No glory, no money, and extreme public pressure? They'll hang up the capes by noon. Plus, have you all forgot Tartarus is still operating? Or would you all rather fund it yourselves?"
A heavy silence followed as the board absorbed the grim reality. "In that case, we can only use her as a figurehead." The canine-faced Tsuragamae finally spoke. "We use her name to keep the legal framework from dissolving in the meantime, while we run the streets from here."
"Isn't that dangerous? If she found a way to reverse her image during this time or put someone in power she can control ..."
"She's in a medically induced coma with one arm missing and a punctured lung," the Director countered, though his eyes narrowed. "If she manages to orchestrate a political coup from an ICU bed, then we have bigger problems than the League of Villains. But you're not wrong to be wary. The Commission was built on secrets. Even the regional directors who aren't responding to us are likely waiting for a sign from her, not us."
"Then it's settled," Tsuragamae stated, his tone final. "She remains the face of the institution. We handle the boots on the ground. We have to move before the public starts doing the math on the 'Four-Hour Gap' themselves and getting the wrong answers."
The Director nodded, then turned to the officer standing by the monitor. "Enough about the bureaucrats. Let's talk about the dead. Give me the status of the Yamanote Line."
The room's temperature seemed to drop. The officer cleared his throat, his hands trembling slightly as he swiped a new file onto the screen. "We've received the primary debrief from Detective Tsukauchi ten minutes ago. He's currently at Central Medical, where All Might is being stabilized. It's... it is just as we feared, sir."
He paused in the silence.
"The 716 wasn't just missing. It was warped into open water. Based on Yuta Akutami's testimony, the drop point was roughly six hundred to a thousand miles offshore."
"Survivors?" The Director asked, though he already knew.
"Apart from the student... zero. The impact alone at that velocity into the ocean... Tsukauchi's report is quite final. The 715 are gone."
"Tch." A commissioner hissed, leaning back and looking at the ceiling. "And here we thought the mystery of the vanishing train was the peak of our problems. The media is going to crucify us. We let the nation hope for two weeks, and now we have to tell them the ocean was their graveyard."
"The timing is cursed," another board member sighed. "With all the tragedies that have happened, I'm beginning to believe some ethereal being is screwing with us."
"Since when did you become religious?"
"Since a strike team composed of forty of Japan's best heroes just happened to lack the Symbol of Peace and got annihilated in the process," the Commissioner-General uttered, his eyes fixed on the red slashes across the hero registry. "Those were forty heroes. The best we had."
"Not all of them died, sir."
"What's the difference? Most were permanently injured. Almost all had their quirks stolen. Those who didn't are going to spend months in recovery and that's only if they don't come back with psychological damage. They might never even want to be heroes again."
He swept his gaze across the board. "And let's not forget, the perpetrators of the Yamanote Line are still at large. Their boss, All For One may be dead, which is the one thing that went right last night, but Tomura Shigaraki and the warpgate, Kurogiri, are still out there. Worse, now they probably have an army of who knows how many released inmates and Nomu to do their bidding."
"While we have one mess after another to clean up first before we can even consider bringing our attention back to them. Who knows what'll happen if they decide to strike again before we're ready. We might not even have the combat power to defeat them now."
"Well, that might not be the worst-case scenario, as long as..."
"Enough." The Director snorted. "Did you not just watch the news? After everything they've said, you're still planning on relying on All Might?"
The man, Haibara, coughed awkwardly at his thoughts being so easily seen through.
"It's... become a reflex for us at this point. Honestly, it's quite pathetic."
"We don't have much of a choice, sir," another added. "If All Might can shoulder the burden for a few years... no, at least a year or a few months so we can ...."
"No, he can't."
"Um... But sir..."
"I'm not being figurative. Tsukauchi's report also brought along an analysis of All Might's condition. He's done. The country just lost the Symbol of Peace, and now everyone knows it."
The entire room went silent. Seeing the silence, the Director rubbed his brows with exasperation. "Don't just sit there... Give me options. Ideas."
"That... sir..." One of them coughed. "It would seem... we don't really have much to go on if there's another villain attack."
The Director frowned. "We don't?"
"It seems that way. The broadcast did have a point in which Hero forces were... top-heavy." He pulled up a chart of hero names. Several were crossed out in a digital red lines. All Might. Endeavor. Hawks.
"Endeavor's lost his quirk and All Might is officially retiring. Hawks is alive and in recovery. Timeline suggests six to eight weeks before he's operationally functional, longer before he's at full capacity. His quirk is oriented toward reconnaissance and rescue anyway. High-end combat was never his primary function."
He scrolled. "Best Jeanist is still in critical care. Quirk believed intact but his survival is unknown. Ryukyu, Crust, Edgeshot — depowered. Incapacitated. Recovery timelines unknown." He paused at the next entry. "Gran Torino. Hospitalised. Serious condition. He's ... I think we have to be honest about the fact that he's not coming back from this one."
The room was quiet. "With Ryukyu, Crust, and several heroes all depowered, the closest high-end combat power the commission has is currently Mirko."
Mirko's image was displayed on the wall.
"Luckily, she wasn't in this operation. After her... it stretches pretty thin, sir. From the specs of the Nomu that appeared in Hosu, very, very few heroes can hold their own against them. If anything... the highest concentration of hero power is currently in the arms of... U.A. High."
The Director's frown deepened. "You're talking about the boy?"
The man's face was stunned. "Um... Not really. I ... I was actually referring to the faculty, sir. Eraserhead. Cementoss. Vlad King. The teaching staff."
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