He smelt of alcohol and sweat. Every time he spoke to y/n, he ended up slurring his words so much, it was difficult to understand him. "Hey," he began. Y/n was impressed; he managed to stumble over a single word. "Wanna go back to my place?" It took y/n a moment to register his words. She didn't speak drunkard. 

Y/n placed her hands together and looked up at him with big, bright eyes. "That sounds like a fantastic idea, let's go." She helped the man up from his seat and walked him to the bar's door. The palms of her hands felt sticky as soon as she made contact with his arm. 

"I'm so excited to go with you." Y/n kept her voice low, out of fear and embarrassment that the other patrons might overhear her, causing Liar to miss its mark. His face went blank. Y/n slipped her hand in his pocket and pulled out a wallet. She held her hands behind her back and waited for the drunk to come to.

He stumbled a bit as he regained consciousness. Y/n placed her free hand on his arm. "You don't look so good. How about we reschedule?" 

Y/n wasn't sure if it was stupidity or his drunken state, but he agreed to take y/n home with him once he was sober. She abruptly led him out the door. With her shoulder pressed against the doorframe, y/n went through his wallet. She pulled out all the cash and tossed his wallet outside. 

From the other side of the bar, y/n noticed Mr. Goda staring at her. It was hard to gauge how upset he was just by looking at him. He seemed a bit unsettled. She folded up the bills and slipped it in her pocket as she walked up to the front counter. 

Mr. Goda leaned in close to y/n's ear. "I'm going to ignore that one because he's been an ass all night. No more robbing the customers, though." Y/n nodded and apologized to him. He leaned away from y/n, placing a rag on the counter. "We'll just call that one a tip."

Y/n turned away from the counter with a towel in her hand. She approached the now empty table and began to clean it up. 

"Hey, have you seen the new gear I got?" a villain behind y/n was speaking in a low tone. Y/n began to wipe down the table at a much slower pace to eavesdrop on the conversation for a bit longer. 

"Nah, I haven't yet. That's is the stuff you got on discount, right?" another voice replied. Y/n lost a slight interest in their conversation. Giran wouldn't discount anything unless he had to. Even so, she continued to listen in. 

"My dealer has been coming across good stuff lately." He sounded excited. "It almost makes going to those slums worth it." 

Slums? Y/n kept her head down as she finished wiping the table. She stepped behind the counter and put away the worn-out rag. 

She opened her mouth to ask Mr. Goda about the supposed slums she had just heard about, a whistle rung out from the other side of the bar. Y/n looked over, a man gave her a nod. She stepped away from the front counter and pulled her notepad and pen from her back pocket. 

It seems like she won't get to ask her questions until after the bar closes. 

"Forget you heard about that place," Mr. Goda grumbled. Y/n pushed a set of chairs together and looked at them, making sure they were aligned just right. 

Y/n began to carry a small pile of plates to the sink. They clacked together with every step she took. "And why should I do that?" Y/n placed the dishes down and turned on the hot water. Steam rose up into the air. 

"Because it's dangerous." Y/n turned around. Before she could say anything, Mr. Goda cut her off. "And don't you dare say you can handle yourself. You have others to think about too."

Y/n turned around and faced the sink. She looked down at the steady stream of water pouring from the faucet. She chewed on her lower lip. He had a point, she couldn't afford to be careless. However, this could be her only chance to meet with a villain broker. The thought of leaving this uninvestigated was killing her on the inside. "I have no intention to go." 

Mr. Goda didn't answer. Y/n gave her quirk a moment to take effect. "Ah, well, if you put it that way. The slums are on the outskirts of Ogura. If you think the city is rough, the villains here have nothing compared to them. Drugs are a huge problem over there. Those bastards are literally insane." 

The bar went silent for a few minutes. "Might I ask about your quirk?" Mr. Goda asked. "If I'm not mistaken, I think I saw you use it earlier." 

"My quirk?" Y/n turned around and faced Mr. Goda. "It's not terribly interesting."  The League taught y/n not to feel ashamed of her quirk. Still, y/n didn't feel confident sharing it with anyone outside of her family. 

Mr. Goda hummed, and y/n returned to washing the dishes. She could feel him still looking at her. Observing her. "Is it something like hypnotism? That's what it seemed like?" Y/n kept her attention on the dishes and nodded. "I think that sounds interesting." 

"Thank you." Y/n tried her best to steer the conversation away from her quirk. She talked about literally anything that came to mind. Complaining about the most idiotic customers of the night, the upcoming arrival of the babies, annoying pregnant lady struggles, Mr. Goda's personal life. As long as it didn't have anything with Liar, y/n was willing to talk about it. 

Another long night of work came to an end. This time, y/n was leaving with something to look into. She now knew about a mysterious slum somewhere on the outskirts of Ogura. Now, all she had to do was find it. 

Y/n sat down at her table. Her map stretched along the top, with markers scattered everywhere. She held a bowl of instant noodles as she stared at the small dot labeled Ogura. 

There's a city to the east and another to the north. "I think it's around here." Y/n tapped her finger on the map, just south of Ogura. "What do you guys think?" She paused and waited, with a small smile on her face. 

"Mommy has today off, so, why don't we take a short nap and see if we can find it?" Y/n finished off her instant noodles quickly and quietly before crawling into bed. 

She placed her hands on her stomach, feeling the butterflies as she drifted off to sleep. 

The slums were a lot further away from Ogura than y/n thought. She had managed to get a ride most of the way there. The taxi man refused to drive her all the way and stopped a few miles short. Y/n scoffed as she walked. What kind of person is so scared that he let's a pregnant woman walk the rest of the way?

Y/n told herself that the walk was good for her, in a futile attempt to use her own quirk on herself. Of course, it didn't work. She followed a winding dirt road, hidden by the thick foliage. She used her time to think of what she was going to do once she got there. Y/n needed a strategy. If the slums were as dangerous as she heard, she couldn't just walk around and ask questions. Mr. Goda was right, she had two little lives to think about. 

A dilapidated set of buildings was off into the distance ahead of her. The closer she got, the more details she noticed. The windows on many of the buildings were shattered. Some had been boarded up with plywood; others were covered with sheets. A sludge seeped down the street alongside the sidewalk. Y/n covered her mouth and nose with her hoodie's sleeve as she passed by, fearing that the sickly foul stench permeating the air could possibly harm the twins. The streets appeared to be baren. Y/n kept an eye out for any signs of life as she slowly traversed the little shantytown.

A figure caught y/n's eye. The stranger was sitting in an alley. Head down and hunched over. Y/n watched at a distance. Silently observing like a wolf stalking its prey. 

The hunched over stranger didn't move. Y/n wondered if he was dead. Still, she didn't want to risk walking up to him and investigating. The looming fear that the stranger is both alive and obtains a deadly quirk scared her more than anything. 

He's dead. Y/n was sure of it. He hadn't moved an inch since she first set her eyes on him. She slowly approached him and noticed a small syringe in his open hand. His long, dark hair covered his face. She picked up a rock and tossed it, the stone bounced against the pavement and before coming to a rolling stop. No reaction. 

She crouched in front of the stranger. He was thin, frail-looking at best.  She guessed that he was no taller than her. Y/n lightly touched his neck in search of a pulse. Her heart froze. He's alive. 

A force pulled on y/n's hair, forcing her head back, a sharp point grazed her throat. A raspy voice chuckled in her ear. She felt his hot breath against her face. In the corner of her eye, y/n could see the syringe in his hand. A strange black fluid filled the inside. "Feelin' up for some fun?" 

The tip of the syringe punctured her skin. Y/n felt her throat burn a bit, she tried to jerk herself free from his grip. It was no use. For how sickly looking he appeared to be, he was undoubtedly stronger than her. The fact that y/n was pregnant didn't help her case.

The more she struggled, the tighter his grip became. Y/n's body went motionless. She kept herself calm. "Yeah, sure, I'm totally down." 

He hesitated. Y/n pulled the syringe from her neck and gripped it tightly. Even in the man's confused state, his hold on her hair was still firm enough that she couldn't free herself. Y/n reached into her pocket and dug her knife into the back of his hand. 

She felt her hair slip from his fingers as he yanked his hand back. Y/n pinned him to the wall, her forearm pressed against his chest. She placed her fingernail against his throat. "Make any sudden movements, and this knife is going in your throat." 

Behind his long, dark hair, she could see small glimpses of widened, fearful eyes. Y/n held up the syringe, the black goo slushed in the barrel. "What is this?" 

"Onyx," he replied. His voice was coated with fear. 

Y/n dug her nail into his skin. He sniveled as he began to stammer. "It's a hallucinogen. Harmless unless you take too much." 

Y/n gritted her teeth. Just thinking about even a drop of the substance entering her system made her see red. "I'm going to count to three. Then you're going to be swallowing this knife." 

He began to get angry. The man started to call y/n every name in the book. Bitch and slut being the more light insults. He tried to fight back, but y/n kept him pinned. She was unsure whether it was the adrenaline pumping through her veins or her desire to protect her babies. Either way, the power dynamic had shifted in y/n's favor. "One." 

Trying to put fear into y/n wasn't working. The man started to stammer. His sudden bout of confidence wavered, revealing the coward he was. He swore that he injected her with a little bit. An amount too small to do anything. His words angered y/n more than anything. "Two." 

It seemed like he hit the final stage of his roller-coaster of emotions. He went quiet. Y/n tried to ask him questions, but he was not complying. Her eyes narrowed, and she grew frustrated. "Three." 

Y/n stepped back as she released him. His body went stiff, the man stood in a deathlike trance. The man woke up gasping for air as he slowly slid down to the ground. His fingertips dug into his throat, searching for a knife he believed to be there. His face reddened, and his eyes began to well up. 

Y/n noticed the skin along his throat was beginning to bleed. Grime and fresh blood accumulated under his fingernails. He spoke between gasps in a panic. "Why won't it come out? Pull it out!" 

Y/n knelt before him and looked the man in the eye. "There's a broker around here, where is he?" 

He choked out a set of directions. The man sputtered, his face reddened as he talked. Down the road and over two streets to the east. His office could be found in the brown, two-story building. He mentioned that his building stuck out compared to many of the ones here.

Y/n stood up. "There is no knife," she muttered. As if an invisible pair of hands had suddenly stopped strangling him, he began to dry heave. As she walked away, y/n heard him starting to vomit. 

Y/n followed the stranger's directions. She walked down to the four-way, and she turned, y/n played with the syringe in her hands. It was just as the man said. Among all the run-down buildings, stood a reasonably well-maintained building. 

The windows were intact, and the door was on its hinges. There were a few cracks here and there, but compared to the buildings missing chunks of wall, that was nothing. 

Y/n tried to peek in through the nearest window. They were tinted. She narrowed her eyes and tried her best to force herself to see through the darkness. Nothing. 

She pressed her ear against the door and listened. Loud, rhythmic thumping boomed in her ear. Her heartbeats. Y/n placed her hand on the doorknob and turned.  She felt the gears inside the knob turn. A small smile crossed her lips, the door was unlocked. 

She peeked through the doorframe and peered into the darkness. She spotted a side room with light spilling out through the crack under the door. 

She approached the door and stood in front of it. Through the thin wood, y/n picked up the sound of a keyboard blacking. She turned the doorknob and cracked it open. 

A man was sitting behind a desk. He had neatly combed light brown hair and was nicely dressed in a button-up. The broker wasn't very old, he seemed to be a few years older than y/n. 

He looked up at y/n. Overall, his appearance seemed average. Nothing about him stuck out other than his pale purple eyes. He looked back down at his computer. "I don't believe we have an appointment. Schedule one and get out." He spoke in a snippy tone. 

Y/n gripped onto the syringe tightly. She placed her free hand in her hip as she walked over to him. She harshly slammed the needle onto his desk with a frown. He glanced back from his computer to the object y/n placed down with an apathetic look on his face. "Onyx, hm? If you're looking for your kick, look elsewhere, I don't carry new drugs in my stock. Not until I know the long-term effects." 

Y/n kept the syringe on his desk. She had no use for it. In fact, she'd be happy if she never sees or hears about the drug ever again. "That's not why I'm here."

The young villain broker looked back to his computer. The loud clacking filled his office. "Well, I'm busy. If you don't have an appointment, then you don't have any business here." 

"I have an appointment," y/n spat. 

He picked up a heavy leather-bound book that sat by his side. He flipped it open and thumbed through it. "What is your name?" 

"Atsuko," y/n replied. She watched as he paused and tapped a blank page, convinced that he had her fake name written on the page. 

"So, what do I owe you?" He placed the book off to the side and folded his hands on the desk before him. Suddenly, it was like y/n had all of his attention. The rude attitude he previously showed was hidden under a layer of moderate professionalism. 

"I'm looking for a broker. Giran is his name." Y/n felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest. This was the first time in months that she felt like she was making progress. She had nearly forgotten what it felt Iike to have hope. 

He leaned back into his chair. The young smuggler sighed. "No. That name doesn't ring any bells." 

Y/n didn't know seven words could carry do much weight to them. Don't cry. Do not cry in front of this stranger. It took all of her willpower to keep her eyes from welling up and to maintain her composure. "Okay. I suppose I'll look elsewhere." 

He leaned forward, completely relaxed and oblivious ty o the strain y/n was in. "For the right price, I could do some research." 

Y/n didn't trust him. He wasn't part of her family. Still, it was the only thing keeping her from losing all hope. The man before her motioned his hand to the chair in front of him. Y/n sat down. 

They discussed prices. Y/n could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't prepared for her to have an inkling of an idea of how much things should cost. The young broker asked for three thousand. Y/n declined, insisting that his mark up had to be ridiculously high if he was asking for that much. Y/n insisted five hundred should be enough to find another broker.  The two went back and forth, neither willing to give up their stance. In the end, they settled on twenty dollars, thanks to Liar. 

Y/n reached into her pocket, and reluctantly gave him his payment. Compared to his original request, she was paying virtually nothing. It still hurt to hand it over. She thought of everything she could have bought with that money. 

A toy for the twins. Maybe put it towards buying a crib for the two to share. Baby clothes, even. The more y/n thought about it, the more physically painful it became. 

He took the money from her hand with a smile. "I'll contact you if something comes up." 

"If?" y/n asked; "don't you mean when?" 

He shrugged with a smug grin on his face. Y/n chewed on her cheek, trying her best not to punch him. "Some people are just too hard to track down. I'll send someone to look into this Giran guy, that's the best I can do for you. I'm a very busy man." 

Y/n left the run-down streets, feeling no more or less closer to finding help. "Don't worry, you two. I'm sure we will find a break soon."