MHA: A King's Legacy (BNHA x AOT)

Arlen Ackerman wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand as he stepped out of the underground ring. His opponent lay unconscious behind him, the echo of the crowd's cheers still reverberating in his ears. Another clean victory.

Arlen's sharp grey eyes scanned the dimly lit corridor as he made his way toward the exit. He preferred to avoid mingling with the raucous crowd after his fights. The adrenaline still hummed in his veins, but his expression remained composed.

Another day, another win—just another step in his meticulous plan to cement his presence in Japan's underworld.

As he turned a corner, a figure leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed and an unsettling smirk playing on his lips. He was dressed in a dark suit, his long, slicked-back hair framing a face that exuded quiet menace.

Arlen immediately recognised him: Hari Kurono, better known as Chronostasis. His quirk allowed him to manipulate the passage of time for those he touched—an ability Arlen could respect, given its similarity to his own.

"I thought you'd be more impressive in person," Hari remarked, his voice calm but edged with mockery. "But I'll admit, you've got potential."

Arlen's gaze didn't waver. "And you are?"

"Someone who can help you take your talents to a whole new level," Hari said smoothly. "You've been making waves down here, Spectre. Enough that my boss has taken notice. That's rare."

"Your boss?" Arlen asked, though he already suspected the answer.

Hari's smirk widened. "Kai Chisaki. You may know him as Overhaul."

Arlen's eyes narrowed slightly. He'd heard of Overhaul—a rising force in the criminal underworld, the leader of the Shie Hassaikai Yakuza.

Ruthless, intelligent, and utterly uncompromising. Joining the Yakuza had never been part of Arlen's plan, but he wasn't one to dismiss opportunities.

"What does he want with me?" Arlen asked, his tone guarded.

"Consider it an invitation," Hari replied. "He's interested in what you can do. Of course, you'll have to prove your worth first. Nothing personal—just the way we do things."

Arlen crossed his arms. "And if I say no?"

Hari's smirk didn't falter. "You won't."

There was a beat of silence before Arlen gave a curt nod. "Fine. Take me to him."

Later that night, Hari led Arlen to a secluded compound on the outskirts of the city. The atmosphere was oppressive, the air heavy with tension. Men in dark suits patrolled the grounds, their expressions a mix of deference and fear.

Arlen walked confidently, his posture straight, though he remained acutely aware of every detail around him.

They entered a grand but austere chamber, where Kai Chisaki sat at the head of a long table. His signature plague mask covered his face, giving him an eerie, almost otherworldly presence. His piercing eyes regarded Arlen with a mixture of curiosity and calculation.

"So, this is the fighter you spoke of," Overhaul said, his voice measured. "The one who manipulates time."

Arlen met his gaze without flinching. "And you're the man who tears things apart."

A ripple of tension filled the room at Arlen's boldness, but Overhaul raised a hand, silencing his subordinates. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"You've got nerve," Overhaul remarked. "I like that. But nerve alone doesn't make you useful."

"I didn't come here to beg for a job," Arlen replied coolly. "You're the one who's interested in me."

Overhaul leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled. "That remains to be seen. Hari, prepare the ring. Let's see if our guest is as valuable as you claim."

Arlen found himself standing in a makeshift arena within the compound, surrounded by members of the Shie Hassaikai. The atmosphere was electric, the air thick with anticipation.

His opponent stepped forward—a towering brute with bulging muscles and a predatory grin. Arlen recognised him as Rikiya Katsukame, one of Overhaul's Eight Bullets.

"You're in for a rough time, kid," Rikiya growled, cracking his knuckles.

Arlen didn't reply. He shifted into a loose, relaxed stance, his grey eyes locked on his opponent. He knew Rikiya's quirk, Energy Suck, allowed him to drain the energy of those he touched, making him stronger in the process.

It was a formidable ability, but Arlen had no intention of letting him get close.

The fight began with a deafening roar as Rikiya charged, his massive frame moving with surprising speed. Arlen waited until the last possible moment before activating Chrono Shatter. Time slowed to a crawl, and Arlen sidestepped the attack effortlessly, his movements precise and deliberate.

As time resumed its normal flow, Rikiya stumbled, his punch hitting empty air. Arlen retaliated with a flurry of strikes, targeting pressure points with surgical precision.

Each blow landed with a sharp crack, but Rikiya barely flinched, his immense stamina absorbing the damage.

"You'll have to do better than that," Rikiya taunted, lunging again.

Arlen grimaced as he dodged, annoyed his attacks weren't effective. He needed to end this quickly. Activating Chrono Shatter once more, he created a temporal distortion around Rikiya, causing his movements to lag and falter.

Seizing the opportunity, Arlen delivered a devastating roundhouse kick to the side of Rikiya's head, sending him crashing to the ground.

The crowd erupted into cheers and jeers, but Arlen didn't let his guard down. Rikiya groaned, his massive hands clawing at the ground as he tried to rise.

"That's enough," Overhaul's voice cut through the noise, cold and authoritative.

Arlen stepped back, breathing heavily. His gaze flicked to Overhaul, who nodded approvingly.

"You've proven yourself," Overhaul said. "Welcome to the Shie Hassaikai.

After the fight, Arlen was led to a private chamber where a craftsman awaited.

The man held a gleaming plague mask in his hands, its sleek design both elegant and intimidating. It was a symbol of loyalty, a mark of belonging.

Arlen took the mask without a word, examining it closely. The craftsmanship was impeccable, the intricate patterns etched into the metal reflecting the dim light.

"Wear it with pride," Hari said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "You're one of us now."

Arlen didn't respond. He strapped the mask to his face, the cool metal pressing against his skin. As he looked at his reflection in the polished surface of a nearby mirror, a strange feeling stirred within him—a mix of resolve and unease.

He had infiltrated the Shie Hassaikai, but at what cost?

The following days were a blur of meetings and missions. Arlen was introduced to the rest of the Eight Bullets, their reception varying from grudging respect to open hostility.

Overhaul wasted no time in testing his new recruit, assigning him to oversee the collection of debts from local businesses under the Yakuza's protection.

Arlen executed his tasks with precision, his cold efficiency earning him a reputation as a reliable enforcer. Yet, he remained vigilant, his sharp mind always analysing the organisation's inner workings.

He was no ordinary recruit, and he had no intention of being a pawn.

As he stood on the balcony of the compound one night, the city lights stretching out before him, Arlen couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding.

He had gained the trust of one of Japan's most dangerous criminal organisations, but the path he had chosen was fraught with peril.

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