Hizashi is spiralling; his hero career is on the brink of collapse, no radio station will give him a shot and he isn’t sure how much more he can take. When people start turning up beaten half to death, they lead him to an underground quirk fighting ring. Could it be the big break he needs to save his career or will the mysterious Referee show him something better?

“No one told me what prayers to recite,” Johnny forces out, trying to summon the well of anger that usually burns within him when he enters the church. “‘Spose they’re not used to trussin’ up somethin’ that can talk back.” Father Simon says nothing, his footsteps echoing out on the stone; growing louder as he approaches. “I can baa for ya if that’d make it more familiar,” he spits, some remnant of himself flaring and he strains his arms, struggling in vain against the ropes binding his wrists. He follows the hem of his robe as he circles him; his keen eyes heavy as they study the sigils on his skin until he finally comes to a stop behind him. He’s not even to see his death. Johnny curses himself as only now does grief come at being denied a final look into his eyes. Even now, you can’t help but chase sin.

“I dunno,” Hizashi shrugged. “He’s clearly not the worst guy in the world, considering who he goes after.” “I heard he’s pretty brutal,” he pointed out, not disagreeing. “Some of those people deserved brutal,” he said and decided to push a little more. “Did you hear about his last victim? That pharmaceutical director using experimental drugs on his son?” “Daughter,” Shouta corrected mindlessly before stiffening. Hizashi grinned. Gotcha.