The Unfeasible Series

the case: discussion four

“It’s odd how many quirkless bullying cases are coming to light now that The Unfeasible Series has come out. But then again, some people probably feel as if the books paved the way for their stories to be taken seriously.” Tsukauchi grumbled. “Still though. We need to find more leads on the Unfeasible Public Affair case.”

Aizawa, who was sipping on his coffee, was half too exhausted to do more than nod, especially so after his hectic patrol. It seemed like weekends was when a lot of petty crimes occur and when more break-ins happen. He raised an eyebrow at Tsukauchi, silently prompting the seemingly talkative man to continue. He almost groaned at the thought of Tsukauchi and Aizawa having two polar opposite sleep schedules. Whenever they discussed cases together, especially as of late, either one or both of them were beyond exhausted. 

Aizawa felt as if they were getting nowhere. 

“Still no news on any other publishings, no random books popping into existence. No other registered quirks match the publication one…” The detective brought a hand up to rub his stubbly chin. The texture was prickly on his fingertips. “Unless…” He trailed off again. 

Aizawa attempted to fight off the urge to roll his eyes. Such dramatic pauses. 

Tuskauchi turned his body to angle the hero. “Unless, we have the quirk wrong! What if it isn’t a publication quirk, but actually something else!” He excitedly began motioning with his hands. 

Aizawa swallowed his coffee, breathing out. “Like?” He grumbled, thickly. 

Tsukauchi visibly fell back into his seat, defeated by his own idea. Silence was the third presence in the room, wafting through the air like a poison. 

Gosh, Aizawa really wouldn’t mind drinking poison right now. 

He looked down at his coffee cup, eyes downcast as he analyzed the drink. He quickly swirled his cup, watching the dark gold swirl and ripple. His intense gaze bore into the caffeinated goodness, losing track of time. 

“What if,” Tsukauchi spoke slowly, breaking the silence. “The quirk is action one along the lines of memory transfer or maybe a form of memory connection, where someone can receive memories and anonymously publish them?” 

Aizawa glanced from his cup to the lounging, contemplative detective. “Memory publication?”

“Memory publication!” Tsukauchi exclaimed, excitement back in his features. “As a singular quirk, that makes more sense!” He said, getting up from his seat and ambling towards his desk. He flips open a file and jots down a note on the inner fold. “But is the author even from this time period? If he has a memory publication quirk, depending on the internal limits, then the memories don’t have to necessarily be his.” 

“The series is too personalized.” Aizawa cut in, looking out the window. It was early morning, the sky turning slowly, light and fog covering the lamplights, thus casting a vague glow. 

Tsukauchi paused. “Elaborate?” 

“When writing, a specific style is used per person, this makes every book different. I don’t think an outsider would have been able to verbalize and publish the memories just after viewing them, and make the books seem so realistic.” Aizawa explained, setting his cup down next to the leg of his chair. He then heaved himself up and began softly walking to the window. 

“That makes sense.” Tsukauchi nodded to himself. He flipped through a couple more papers on his desk before typing on the computer. After a few moments, he sat down in his office chair. “Still though, there are no quirks that match that description. I feel like all we are finding are more dead ends!” He began to whine. He threw his neck back and looked up at the ceiling, gaze bored and face completely baffled. 

A silence passed on before Tsukauchi spoke up once more. “There’s a bad feeling in the air.” The world outside seemed uncannily dark, uncannily quiet. It reminded Tsukauchi of that one expression. 

The calm before the storm.

He shakily inhaled. For whatever reason, he felt as if he could never get a genuine grasp on any factual information regarding this case. And day-by-day, the world continued to progress in a negative spiral of new crimes, new deaths, new villains, and new cases. Tsukauchi didn’t even have to open his eyes to feel the massive amounts of paperwork waiting to be filled out, cases to be cracked and reopened. 

“Undocumented late bloomer?” Came Aizawa’s gruff voice. 

Tsukauchi nodded, new questions blooming in his chest. “But why would someone hide their quirk--?”

Suddenly, the shrill sound of ringing cut through the air. Tsukauchi turned to look for the phone, contemplating who might be calling. 

“Maybe they didn’t have a choice.” Aizawa replied, though his mind was miles away.