Taking in the man’s decently handsome rugged face, Yaguro noticed that this guy wasn’t Japanese, even partially, which begged the question of why he was here. He seemed pretty experienced, so maybe he was cleaning up on someone else’s payroll?
His name, The Silent Cartographer, fit him and his calling card well. The more he thought about it, the less sense it would make for him to be hired by someone else, with the way he carved up the victim’s chest. Seemed like a personal mission, making his presence in Japan all the more mysterious; Maybe he was hunting someone in particular, who knew.

“I guess it fits you.” Yaguro stated, tossing the first paper away and getting his helmet back on. “Though if you keep putting those markings on people, they’re bound to come after you for revenge at some point, and it’ll be easy for them to tell who also has a vendetta against you.” He advised, clicking his headgear back into place.
Taking the next paper, it seemed like the Cartographer was interested in a partnership, but wanted to set up rules, like some kind of overbearing parent. If he had to guess, one of them would be no killing, since the giant probably wanted his victims to live with their shame.

“Alright, tell me your rules; But I’m not gonna mark people like you do, and to be honest I’d prefer if you didn’t do it with me around, I don’t want the target on your back making its way to mine.”

Yaguro grinned under his mask as Occham agreed to follow him; If this shadow investor really was interested in him, they may be obliged to give him an even bigger salary than they previously thought after he showed how to take care of business.
“Good, good. Urchin Lair’s not too far from here, so just follow me.”
So long as Occham did follow the vigilante, they would arrive at their destination within just a few minutes. A hole in the wall bar, windows lit up with flashing lights, and the stench of spilt alcohol polluting the air.
Figuring it was best to go in light as to not arouse suspicion, Yaguro tossed his metal bat into the adjacent alley, intent on picking it up later. “After you.” Opening the door to let Occham in, the pair’s ears was suddenly blasted by loud rock music.



Various gang members crowded around the bar, many of them clearly members of the Eight-Os. One group of them played a game of pool, another dancing like lunatics close to the jukebox.

Following the masked figure inside, assuming they went in, Yaguro would spot a pair of unoccupied bar stools, and direct his accomplice to them.
“I’ve been here before, their policy on masks is pretty relaxed; And the last time I ran into the Eights I had a different helmet.” Whistling to the barkeep, Yaguro looked around and quickly spotted the backroom door, guarded by a taller man wearing a tattered jean jacket, and enough piercings on his face to open his own jewelry store.
“Anyway, my plan is to go kick the guards ass through the door, then go in and get what I want out of Cue Ball.” Thankfully, the music was blaring far too loud for anyone other than Occham to hear what he was saying.
“Though, I am open to suggestions.”
Seeing as the bartender hadn’t noticed them yet, Yaguro yelled over, wanting to get a quick booze in before everything went down. “Hey! Barkeep! Two rum and cokes!”

If nothing else, this new vigilante had skill; Yaguro could hardly follow as Rayder grabbed the knife right out of his hand, leaped off the ground and plunged the knife into another of the gang members.
He couldn’t help but be impressed at the way the guy dispatched the Creature Rejection Clan member; As soon as the robed racist was in flames on the ground, Yaguro’s positive impression’s flew out of the window as he was tossed to the ground.

“Hey jackass, same team!” He protested, picking himself up and dusting off. Watching as the previously enflamed gang member stopped, dropped and rolled, Yaguro waltzed over, just as the flames went out.
“By the way, you missed a spot.” His voice was full of malice as he stomped down on the robed individual’s face, with the audible cracking of a nose bone.
“Seriously, you fight good but you’re a real fucking jackass. You haven’t even said a word since you got here!” Yaguro rested his bat on his shoulder, frustrated. He was at ease but still ready to strike in case this masked jerk decided to try something.
“And you just jumped in out of lord knows where; I actually researched this place and set up an ambush; You might’ve taken them out, but what if they had reinforcements? You’d have gotten your ass kicked; You really ought to leave this to people who know what to do in these situations.”
Yaguro usually didn’t brag out loud, especially since he too went in unprepared, but he felt like sticking it to this silent punk.

(CW: Racism, torture)

Another night, another round of beatings to be given out.

Tonight was no different for the young vigilante; Donning his helmet, he clicked his handgun into the hidden holster in his hoodie, and grabbed his bat.


Today’s hunt was two groups; The Hunters, and a small sector of the Creature Rejection Clan. His tip had come from his friend Armon, a man with an armadillo human quirk, who understandably had personal grudge against the animal-quirk hating groups. Armon frequently lurked on the various forums of the hate groups. Thankfully The Hunters weren’t exactly careful about what they posted, and had revealed someone they planned to corner tonight; Yaguro’s goal was to find them and bust some heads.

Oh, and rescue their unfortunate victim.


Judging from posts by the Creature Rejection Clan, they’d be targeting this exact person for weeks, and a feud between the two groups seemed likely. Two birds, one stone.


Though he didn’t have an exact location of where the ‘hunt’ was taking place, it didn’t take much time of wandering around before he started to hear commotion; Arguing, and loud arguing at that.

Creeping through the alleyways, the noises grew louder and louder, and it didn’t take long for the scene to come into view.

About seven of them; Three in robed attire complete with skull masks and wielding long, spear like lit candelabras, the Creature Rejection Clan seemed to have secured the furred civilian first; A young woman resembling a light blonde dog like creature, with a long snout and fuzzed ears; Tears were welling up in her eyes and staining her fur as a boot weighed her to the ground.

The other four looked far more diverse; Mostly leather and loose jackets, one wearing a boonie cap; The Hunters. Their calling card was the various ‘trinkets’ from their victims; A necklace made of ears, a jacket fashioned from living fur, a knife made out of a claw; Unlike the Creature Rejection Clan who just wanted mutation quirk users gone, The Hunters wanted to make a game out of them.


“I hit her, so she’s MY kill!” One of the Hunters protested, getting in the masked face of his opposition.

“But we found her, and we will dispose of her. All that’s needed is cleansing.”


The atmosphere was getting tense, but more importantly both groups were preoccupied. Gripping his bat hard in both hands, Yaguro looked over each of the men, deciding which one would get a concussion first.

His sights settled on one of the Hunters, a muscular man clutching a spear.

Bolting out from the shadows of the alley, the vigilante crashed his bat into the tall man’s side, cracking the spear in half on the way.

The argument between the two groups ceased immediately as they gazed at the new threat; It was instantly apparent that Yaguro was a part of neither group.


“Alright assholes…Any volunteers to go next?” As the two forces realized their common enemy, they all started to surround Yaguro, minus the now unconscious Hunter and the Creature Rejector still pinning the young woman.

“Come on…I’m ready. You asshats ready?” The Hunters weren't exactly slouches, so this would be a challenge; But nothing ventured, nothing gained.

This was certainly unexpected; Not the bricks closing in, the workings of a quirk, that was par for the course these days; But someone moving in to stop him?
Hearing a voice, Yaguro drew his handgun, twirling around and pointing it in the direction of this interloper. Judging from their clothes, this clearly wasn’t an Eight-O; From the clothes they were wearing to the rifle they were packing, this clearly wasn’t some small timer.

Listening to the guy lecture him, the vigilante kept his gun trained right at the forehead, training it on him the entire time.
It was only when Occham drew closer and revealed his name that Yaguro lowered his gun a bit.
“You’d be surprised at what a bit of steel and iron can accomplish.” He argued back, keeping his gun in one hand and bat lowered in the other. “I’ve been around the block more than a bit, so I know what I’m doing.”
Narrowing his eyes behind his helmet, Yaguro tried to analyze the suited stranger. “Though I get the feeling you do too.”
Whoever this person was, the punk got the feeling that if Occham wanted him dead, he’d be on the ground already.
Best to just hear them out.

“A bit rude of you to presume you know what my plan is; I’m no fool, you really think I’d kick open the door, open fire and draw in every cop within a mile radius?” Opening his hoodie back up, Yaguro slipped his gun back into its holster; More of a sign of good faith than anything else; The bat would be more effective at this range anyway.
“Just who exactly are you, huh? You work for the mob?”

The streets of Shinjuku were dark at night; Dark, and quiet, with only the occasional blare of loud music from a passing car.

This was not ideal location for Taiyo Korazan, bigwig businessman. Walking through dirty sidewalks, he clearly did not fit in to this environment; His clothes consisted of a sharp, pressed grey suit with light black lines, matching pants, and gold cufflinks. His glasses were square and prim, and the red tie and matching red handkerchief in his shirt pocket completed his look.

His hair contrasted the rest of his appearance, being quite curly and puffy, making it look far more American than Japanese.

“I swear, the company doesn’t appreciate me enough for taking these out-calls…” He grumbled to himself, lamenting the terrible situation he was in.

“Ever since my idea pitch overshadowed the boss’s, he’s giving me all dud assignments…Like he’s trying to…” Hefting his suitcase, Taiyo paused as he felt gazes creep onto his back.

A young man, no older than twenty, had set his sights on the fish out of water, and grinned. The teen wore a studded leather jacket, jeans help up with a chain belt, and had piercings on his nose and lips. Though across the street, as soon as Taiyo crossed his path, the punk got up from his relaxed position and started to walk towards the businessman, who quickened his pace in turn.

As he walked, Taiyo watched as two more matching punks crept out of the shadows. The first wore a midriff cut jean jacket and a tank top that read “Fuck It” in Kanji, and a tall neon green mohawk that stood out from his darker clothes. The other was a short guy, had a black studded jacket, and multiple necklaces on, most completed by small metal skulls.


The trio formed up behind their prey, and the leader of the group walked in front of him, turning around and continuing to walk backwards, but slowing his pace. Taiyo quickly glanced around for some way to get away from the group, but with the second punk on his side, the only place left to turn was a dark alleyway, with nothing but a dumpster and busted up door. Walking into it, Taiyo backed up nervously until he reached the wall, and was ultimately trapped.

Pleased with their tactic, the three punks exchanged grinning glances to one another.

“Hey…Mud…I think we met someone.” The necklace wearer spoke up, keeping eye contact with the nervous man they’d cornered.

“Yeah…Either of you know him?” The leader, seemingly named Mud asked.

“Oh, yeah, I think I do…” The mohawk punk replied, taking a few steps forward. “Yeah, this is John Banana…John Banana!” The other two cronies snickered.

“Seriously man, what the fuck is up with that hair?” He asked insincerely, reaching out and ruffling Taiyo’s hair. “You a half n half or somethin? Hey, how bout you show us your documents, then we’ll know for sure…Bet its in that briefcase!” Reaching out, the punk grabbed at the briefcase; Taiyo struggled back as panic started to set in, and he yelled out.

“H-Help! Help!”

Just as the mohawked thug was about to wrestle the briefcase free, he stopped and suddenly jolted as he heard a loud banging sound behind him.

The other two gangsters turned around as well in response, with the shorter one pulling out a switch blade.

“Who’s there?! Ain’t nobody tryin to be a hero a hope…” Mud taunted, glancing around.

Another banging sound; Closer this time, and followed by a scraping sound, as if someone was dragging something through the pavement. When the sound finally stopped, a figure appeared at the end of the alleyway; As he drew closer, his features became clearer; A black hoodie, jeans, and a helmet-like mask. The stranger had a baseball bat in one hand, and as he walked closer, he drug it behind him, making the same sound as before.

He kept drawing near, until he was only a couple feet from the small mob. Stopping, the two groups stared each other down; The thug holding Taiyo dropped him, and turned around as well. Turning his hand into a metal ball, he asked, “Who the hells this?” Breaking the brief silence.

“Eight-O’s…I thought you were still active." The helmeted figure spoke, voice muffled by his headwear.

“But this is new jurisdiction for you…Did the Army Mob and Hunters run you out of your old shithole?”

The trio of gang members just stared back, trying to assess the threat this vigilante posed; Mud winced a bit at the mention of the Army Mob.

“Why dont’ca just get lost…” The knife-wielder spoke up, taking a step towards the unwelcome newcomer. “We’re tryin to have fun here…”

“Well, what do you know…” Clenching his bat tightly, the vigilante swung it hard against the punk’s head, making impact with a loud CLUNK.

“So am I!”










One Eight-O already on the ground bleeding from a single swing, a good start to the evening, Yaguro thought. It had been a while since he’d been out patrolling, and ever since his arrest, he had been actin more carefully. Three members of a gang that was hardly more than a group of bullies? Easy practice.

“You’re dead!” The next gangster, one with a quirk that turned his fists into iron, swung on him, but the vigilante sidestepped him and hit him hard in the back with his bat, sending him crashing into the brick wall. The thug started trying to get up; Only to be swiftly put down by a kick from Yaguro delivered to the head, followed by a bat to the ear.

Turning back to the now lone assailant, Yaguro cockily twirled his bat in his hands. Though unseen through the helmet, he had the biggest smile of his life.


“You want some? You want some?!” The final Eight-O yelled angrily before charging at the vigilante. Yaguro stood his ground, and swung his bat right into the guy’s leg, who yelped in pain and fell to the ground.

“O-ok! I give! I give!” The punk begged, grabbing his leg.

“You give? What were you gonna give that douchebag in the suit?” Yaguro asked in a deadpan voice, crashing his bat into Mud’s ribcage, who grabbed it in pain.

“In a better society, you’d be too piss scared to even try something like this…But until then…” Another kick to the guy’s already wounded stomach. “I’m here!”

And he kept on kicking the gangster in the chest…It was only when Mud activated his quirk, giving his body a spring like quality, did he manage to get to his feet and start trying to flee.

“Where you goin? You’re not done yet…” Yaguro stated angrily, chasing Mud out into the street, and into a maze of alleys.





“…” Taiyo picked himself, still breathing heavily from the encounter. Dusting himself off, he gripped his suitcase, and watched as his savior chased after the last standing gang member.



“…I’m need a fucking raise…”