No.

No way.

I barely had time to process the thought—let alone react—before my hand started burning.

It wasn't the kind of pain that made you wince and shake it off. No, this was deeper. Sharper. Like something had hooked into me and was pulling.

My head snapped down, eyes locking onto the spade mark on my hand.

It was glowing.

Not faintly. Not subtly.

But blazing.

A deep, unnatural gold, like molten metal, pulsing in sync with my racing heartbeat. The very air around me crackled with energy, my stomach twisting with the unmistakable feeling that something was happening, something big.

I barely had time to think before the space in front of me shifted.

A ripple.

Like reality itself had just been ripped open.

And then—

He was there.

Overhaul.

Standing right in front of me.

My breath caught in my throat.

The world seemed to tilt, everything narrowing down to him. His golden mask glinted under the artificial lights of the USJ facility, his eyes burning with something dark, something murderous.

And that's when I realized.

He wasn't just here.

He was looking right at me.

And he wanted me dead.

The air between us went razor-sharp. My instincts screamed at me to move, but my body lagged half a second behind—

A half-second I didn't have.

Because Overhaul lunged.

His hand shot toward me, fingers outstretched, inches from making contact.

I knew what would happen if he touched me.

I had seen what his Quirk could do.

And I had no intention of dying here.

My body snapped into action. I threw myself backward, my foot barely skimming the edge of the water before I flipped midair and landed on a nearby chunk of debris.

"Shit—"

I barely had time to breathe before the ground where I'd been standing exploded, the metal floor warping and shifting into jagged spikes.

Overhaul straightened, barely fazed. His fingers flexed, as if testing the air itself.

"You," he said, voice dangerously calm. "What did you just do?"

Oh.

Oh, I didn't like that.

Because I didn't know.

I had been thinking about him.

I had wanted him here.

And now he was.

I swallowed, heart pounding.

I had so many questions.

But first—

I had to survive.

.

.

.

HOLD IT!

.

.

.

PAUSE!!!

PAUSE!

PAUSE!!

.

.

.

Alright. So, let's recap the nightmare that is my life right now because I don't trust what I am processing right now!

One second, I'm in the middle of a full-blown crisis, trying to figure out how the hell I'm supposed to handle a villain invasion while babysitting my newly acquired team of magical disasters. The next second? Oh, yeah. My hand decides to glow like some cursed ancient artifact, and boom. Overhaul.

Right. That Overhaul. The "I disassemble people for fun" Overhaul. The "I nearly wiped out an entire bloodline because I have the emotional capacity of a wet sock" Overhaul.

And, of course, he's looking at me like I just kicked down his door, slapped him across the face, and called his fashion sense outdated. Which, honestly, wouldn't even be the worst thing I've done recently.

"You," he breathes out, voice flat and filled with an unhealthy amount of murderous intent. "What the hell did you just do?"

I glance down at my hand, still faintly glowing, and then back at him. "Uh... magic?"

His eye twitches. Oh, this is going to be fun.

I take a casual step back, crossing my arms as Overhaul glares at me like I just personally offended his entire existence. Which, in his defense, I probably have.

"Okay, so before you go full remodeling mode on me, let's establish a few ground rules," I say, counting off on my fingers. "One—you can't actually touch me, which means all your creepy little deconstruction tricks are useless."

His eye twitches again. That's probably a good sign.

"Two—attacking me would be a waste of time because, let's be real, you have no idea what's happening, and I love knowing more than you do."

He takes a step forward, looming over me like he thinks intimidation is going to work. Cute.

"You expect me to believe you just summoned me here?" he growls, voice low and lethal. "Like some kind of parlor trick?"

I shrug. "I don't expect you to believe anything, honestly. But that doesn't change the fact that you're here, and I may or may not have been thinking about you right before it happened."

He stills at that. "...What?"

"Don't make it weird."

His hands flex at his sides like he's seconds away from lunging at me. I sigh dramatically.

"Okay, seriously, let's be rational about this," I continue. "You think I wanted to summon you? You think I woke up this morning and said, 'Wow, you know who I miss? The guy who kidnapped a child, tried to kill me, and has the worst case of germophobia I've ever seen'?"

Overhaul's nostrils flare. "You're mocking me."

I tilt my head. "Wow, you're quick."

That's when he finally loses whatever thread of patience he was clinging to.

The ground beneath me explodes as Overhaul lunges, his hand slamming into the earth and turning it into a mess of jagged spikes and dust. I don't even flinch, just step back lazily as debris rains around me.

"Yeah, see, this is why you don't have any friends," I comment, watching him straighten up with pure rage in his eyes.

He moves again, reaching for me, but—oh. Would you look at that? His hand passes right through me.

Huh.

I blink down at his outstretched fingers, then back up at his face, which is rapidly shifting from murderous to murderous and confused.

"...You can't touch me," I say slowly, the realization sinking in. "Like, at all."

He scowls and tries again, swiping at my arm. Nothing. It's like I'm not even there.

"Interesting," I hum, tapping my chin. "This must be how ghosts feel."

Overhaul hates that. I can see it. His entire face is a storm of frustration and barely contained fury.

"How?" he snaps. "What the hell kind of quirk—"

"It's not a quirk," I interrupt, smirking now. "It's magic."

His expression darkens further. "Bullshit."

"Oh, I wish it was bullshit," I say, throwing my arms out dramatically. "I wish I wasn't suddenly the main character in a rejected fantasy anime, but here we are."

Overhaul's breathing is uneven, his mind probably working at a million miles an hour trying to rationalize this. Too bad for him, reality stopped making sense the moment I got my stupid magical tattoo.

I take a step closer, watching as he instinctively backs up. "See, this is fun for me," I say conversationally. "Because for once, I get to be the problem. You get to be confused and helpless, and I get to laugh about it."

He hates that even more.

So, naturally, I push further.

"Go on," I say, holding out my arm. "Try again. Maybe if you wish really hard, you'll actually make contact this time."

Overhaul glares daggers at me, but he does try again. His hand passes straight through my wrist like I'm made of air.

I grin. "Aww, that's tragic."

His jaw clenches so hard I swear I hear his teeth grind. "You little—"

"—Mastermind?" I offer. "Magical menace? Devilishly handsome hero?"

"Shut up."

I shrug. "Make me."

He can't. And he knows it. And I am thriving in this moment.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of silent glaring, Overhaul exhales sharply, his fists still clenched.

"You dragged me here," he says coldly. "For what? To gloat?"

I roll my eyes. "No, dumbass. I dragged you here because I need you."

His eyebrows shoot up, the first real sign of surprise he's shown. "...Excuse me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," I say dryly. "I need your power, not your sparkling personality."

Overhaul crosses his arms, clearly still fuming but intrigued enough to listen.

I smirk. "Congratulations, Chisaki. You're officially part of the team."

He looks at me, looks at his hands, then looks back at me. "I hate you."

I grin wider. "Perfect. That means this is gonna be so much fun."