MHA; Traflagar D. Water Law

Chapter 12: Eyes on Traflagar.

The night sky stretched across the city like an endless canvas, dotted with shimmering stars that managed to pierce through the faint glow of urban lights. The city's towers rose high, their windows illuminated with life, while streets below hummed with the quiet rhythm of a peaceful evening. Neon signs cast vibrant reflections on glassy sidewalks, and laughter from cafes and street musicians drifted lazily through the air, a testament to the residents' tranquil lives.

Yet, amidst this serenity, a stark contrast unfolded in a narrow alleyway. Police vehicles lined the area, their red and blue lights painting the shadows with flickering urgency. Officers moved with precision, their voices blending into a low hum of coordinated activity. The scene was chaotic but controlled, with the arrest of a criminal group in full swing.

Fifteen individuals, each bound in cuffs, were being ushered into transport vans one by one. Their faces varied between defiance and defeat, but none resisted; the overwhelming presence of the law had made resistance futile. Shattered glass littered the ground, and chunks of debris were scattered across the alley, remnants of the violent encounter that had unfolded here earlier. A gaping hole in the wall of the second-floor room of an inconspicuous house told the story of the clash. Its edges were charred, as if kissed by flames, and the damage spread outward like the aftermath of a contained explosion.

The building, now sealed off with yellow police tape, stood as a grim reminder of the events that transpired. Scientific investigation teams, clad in pristine white suits, combed through the wreckage with meticulous attention. Flashlights glinted off their equipment as they cataloged evidence, their voices barely audible above the sounds of the bustling scene.

Near the heart of the chaos stood a man in a brown trench coat and matching fedora, scribbling notes in a small, worn notebook. His sharp gaze moved between the smoldering edges of the wall and the officers securing the scene. His movements exuded experience, his posture one of authority.

Beside him stood two figures. One was unmistakably Shota Aizawa, known widely as Eraser Head. His disheveled black hair framed his sharp eyes, which were as focused as ever. The other was an unfamiliar presence to most of the officers—a young man with a striking appearance. Trafalgar Law stood with an air of calm detachment, his white-and-black-spotted hat resting atop his head and his yellow shirt marked with a distinct emblem drawing subtle attention.

The inspector spoke first, his voice steady but curious. "A power resembling green flames? And he leaped away in a single bound... Well, I can say with certainty, this criminal is no ordinary opponent. If we had classifications beyond the typical, I'd place him in Category A—or perhaps even higher."

Aizawa crossed his arms, his expression impassive. "Not quite. He's just a coward who ran the moment he saw us."

The inspector chuckled, a low, hearty sound. "Come on now, Eraser Head. Any villain would flee if they faced you. In this world, criminals rely on their quirks more than anything else. And you... well, you strip that crutch away from them. No one wants to pick a fight with someone like you."

Aizawa sighed, his tone dismissive. "I didn't do much. You're giving me too much credit. I should've stopped him from escaping in the first place."

The inspector turned his attention to Law, his keen eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. "So, this is the guest of honor you mentioned?"

Law nodded politely, his voice calm yet firm. "I'm Trafalgar Law. It's a pleasure to meet you."

With a smile, the inspector placed a hand atop Law's hat, ruffling it slightly. "Because of you, Aizawa decided to return to his original profession. Honestly, it's a waste for him to stay as just a teacher at U.A. You know how high he could rise if he tried, don't you?"

Before Law could respond, Aizawa had already turned on his heel, his tone curt as he began walking away. "Move it, Law. You've got a lesson with All Might tomorrow morning."

Law exchanged a brief farewell with the inspector before following his teacher. As he walked away, the inspector watched them go, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He murmured to himself, "That's the first time I've seen him take on a personal student like this. I have high hopes for that boy now."

The alley gradually gave way to a quieter street, and the hustle of the police scene faded into the distance. Aizawa's dark eyes glanced toward the horizon, noting the faint glow of city lights. "It's almost midnight. Your family won't be worried?"

Law's voice was even, almost indifferent. "I live independently."

Aizawa nodded, his gaze softening slightly. "Fine. Just don't stay up too late. All Might's class won't be easy."

At a fork in the street, Aizawa turned to the right, his movements as purposeful as ever. Law, meanwhile, took the left path, his eyes briefly scanning the bustling surroundings. Despite the hour, the streets pulsed with security and life, an odd but comforting combination.

Pausing for a moment, Law tilted his head upward. The stars above were faint, their brilliance dimmed by the city's radiance, yet they held a quiet beauty. A small smile graced his lips as he whispered to himself, "Training with All Might... I wonder which team I'll be on and who I'll face."

On the rooftop of a nearby building, a figure watched Law silently. The man's green hair swayed gently in the breeze, his vivid green eyes locked on the young student below. A nearly invisible earpiece rested in his ear as he spoke in a low tone, "His name is Trafalgar D. Water Law. First-year student at U.A., Hero Course, Class 1-A."

The silence around him was profound, broken only by the soft rustle of the wind. His voice grew quieter, almost contemplative. "There's no way I'll convince him to join the tournament. Students from that academy are too stubborn about their ideals, boss. But I have another idea. What if we contact that person? We could simply take his power and give it to someone else."

A pause followed as the man listened intently to the reply through his earpiece. Then, with a touch of resignation, he muttered, "Alright, alright, no need to get worked up. I'll try persuading him tomorrow."

The rooftop fell silent once more, the man's gaze returning to Law's retreating figure. Below, the young student continued walking, the faintest hint of determination in his step, as if already preparing for the challenges to come.

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