MHA: Jigsaw Reborn

Chapter 13: Converging Paths

(A/N: The stuff here was originally supposed to be in the last chapter, but opted to instead separate them and expand on them, rather than combine the two. Anyhow, sit back, relax, and enjoy the chapter!)

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[1 Day Later]

[Narrator's POV]

In a secluded warehouse, on the outskirts of Musutafu, a singular, lambent light bulb swayed gently from the ceiling, casting a muted, yellowish glow over the cluttered space below. Rusted metal scraps were piled haphazardly in one corner, remnants of old tools and machinery now coated in a thin layer of dust.

The air was thick, laden with the musty scent of damp wood and forgotten projects. Old wooden crates, now brittle and splintered, stood stacked against walls lined with PVC piping, their once tidy arrangement now formed a labyrinth of sorts.

A slow, rhythmic drip of water echoed through the silence, each drop sending ripples through a small puddle that had formed near the center of the room. The only sign of life came from a large, battered workbench beneath the weak light, its surface cluttered with papers, blueprints, scattered tools, and an odd-looking helmet of sorts that covered the mouth which sat at the far edge of the workbench.

John Kramer, rather Okazaki Yuudai, towered over the workbench like a giant, scanning the blueprints lying before him. Two designs dominated the papers, each blueprint marked with a different name. The first was 'Ingenium,' while the second was 'Uwabami.'

Photos of the two heroes, along with their respective notes and observations, were jotted down on some scrap paper and pinned to their respective trap designs. Ingenium's photo showed a headshot of a man in a white suit of armour, with the note reading as follows:

'Increasingly reckless, overuse of force, collateral damage — needs to be tested'

Uwabami's photo, in contrast, captured her in a glamorous pose, more suited for a magazine cover than a photo next to a death machine. Her note read as follows:

'Prioritizes modelling over hero work — needs to be tested'

Reaching for the device that sat at the edge of the workbench to do some quick adjustments, Kramer spoke to himself, letting his thoughts spill into the stale air.

"They can change," he started. "Even the worst among them can be redeemed, given the circumstances. If they're true heroes, they will survive..."

The warehouse door creaked open behind the Jigsaw as a shadow slipped into the room. Dawned in his vigilante attire, Stendhal approached the workbench, dragging with him a man bound and gagged, thrashing like a snake. The man's eyes were wide with terror, his body trembling as he struggled against the restraints, muffled cries escaping his taped mouth.

Stendhal took a glance at the man before looking back at Kramer. "Another one," he said, his voice a low growl, though his irritation was apparent. "He used his quirk to attack someone — sunk those snake fangs of his into an innocent child, poisoning her and fleeing..."

"He deserves death."

Kramer didn't look up immediately, his attention still on the trap. He nodded slowly, acknowledging Stendhal's words. "Perhaps," he replied evenly, "but death isn't always the answer, Stendhal. Some people just need to be shown what their actions truly mean..."

Stendhal's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him — the blueprints, the reverse bear trap, and the photos of heroes nest to the blueprints. He stepped closer, his boots echoing off the cold, concrete floor. "And this..." he said, pointing to the trap Kramer had in his hands, "this is how you show them?"