World: My Hero Academia
The faint glow of deep blue light bathed the floor of the silent chamber. The Codex of Concord hovered inches above its pedestal, humming with eerie energy. Every lawyer in Adrian Voss's world had heard of the book — the forbidden tome, said to bend law across the fabric of reality. But Adrian hadn't just heard the legends. He studied them. He believed them. And now, standing in the vault beneath the ruins of the Global Ethics Court, he had finally earned the right to wield it.
A flick of his finger. A whisper of intent. The Codex fluttered open, revealing dozens of layered pages, each etched in golden ink and crackling with invisible laws.
Adrian adjusted his tie. He wore his usual dark suit — one part corporate shark, one part courtroom priest. His voice was calm as he spoke into the void, articulating a single clause.
"I, Adrian Voss, practicing attorney of the Unified Legal Front, invoke Clause 13.9-A. Open the gate to a world where villains are denied fair trial. Where narrative favors the righteous. Where justice is blind — by design."
The room trembled.
And then, reality tore open.
When Adrian awoke, the air tasted of ash and ozone.
He stood at the edge of a shattered city. Tokyo — or a version of it. High-rise buildings lay in ruin, heroes zipped across the sky, and police forces scrambled to contain the chaos. The battle had only just ended.
He walked forward slowly, his shoes crunching over broken glass and debris. No one noticed him. His presence, thanks to the Codex, existed in a legal limbo — visible when he wished, invisible when needed.
He checked the Codex. A name had already surfaced on the golden parchment, its letters shifting and solidifying:
Tomura Shigaraki – Status: Apprehended. Trial: Denied. Label: Irredeemable.
Adrian narrowed his eyes. Of course.
Shigaraki — the so-called leader of the League of Villains. Branded a mass murderer, a psychopath, a destroyer of cities. But was that all he was?
He set his sights on the looming structure in the distance — Tartarus Prison.
Thirty Hours Later — Private Chamber, Tartarus
Shigaraki sat slouched in the reinforced chair, his wrists chained to the floor, his body bruised and sedated. His white hair hung over his face, and his eyes — usually filled with unfiltered hate — were dull. Beaten. Defeated.
Adrian stood across from him.
"Who the hell are you?" Shigaraki rasped.
"Adrian Voss. Your lawyer."
A snort. "Lawyer? What kind of joke is this?"
"No joke," Adrian replied, placing a sealed document on the table. "I've filed an appeal against your indefinite detainment without trial. You're being unlawfully imprisoned, and I intend to prove it in a court recognized by your world's Hero Commission."
Shigaraki scoffed. "They'll never let that happen."
"They will," Adrian said, opening his briefcase. "Because I've cited twenty-seven violations of your world's Quirk Regulation Act, plus four major breaches of international law regarding the detainment of enemy combatants. You're not being held as a prisoner of war — you're being treated like a rabid dog. But even rabid dogs have legal rights."
Shigaraki looked up slowly, eyes narrowing. "Why?"
Adrian paused, then gave a rare, honest answer.
"Because no one else will. And because I believe villains deserve to be heard — before they're condemned."
For the first time in years, Tomura Shigaraki was silent not out of rage, but confusion.
Meanwhile — Hero Commission Headquarters, Musutafu
Boardroom lights flickered as the report dropped on the polished mahogany table.
"Who is this Adrian Voss?" asked one of the higher-ups.
"An anomaly," replied another. "No Quirk. No record. Not even from this world, as far as we can tell."
"And he's… filing a lawsuit? Against us?"
"Yes," the agent confirmed. "He's representing Shigaraki — demanding due process. Trial. Legal defense. He claims our detainment of villains without proper hearings violates natural law and multiple international conventions."
Silence.
Then, laughter.
"Let him try," said the director, sneering. "This isn't some playground. This is the real world. We don't negotiate with monsters. And we certainly don't put them on trial."
The room agreed.
But outside the window, lightning struck the horizon.
And the Codex of Concord began to glow again.
Courtroom: Neutralized Quirk-Zone Facility, Under Provisional Mandate
Adrian stood alone at the defense bench. Shigaraki had been permitted to attend virtually, surrounded by quirk-suppressing tech, as a "security measure."
The prosecution consisted of a panel of top heroes, legal representatives from U.A. High, and Hero Commission officials.
"All rise," a mechanical voice declared. "This hearing will determine the legality of indefinite villain detainment under emergency wartime status."
Adrian adjusted his cuffs. Calm. Composed. Ruthless.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "my client has been denied the most basic right afforded to any sentient being — the right to a fair trial. You claim he is a threat too dangerous to face justice. I argue the opposite: if justice cannot face him, it is not justice at all."
A murmur went through the room.
"Objection!" a hero barked. "This man has leveled cities!"
Adrian didn't blink. "And so has All Might. Twice, during fights you call heroic. We excuse property damage when heroes cause it, but criminalize it when villains retaliate. Why is that?"
Silence.
Another hero — Present Mic — leaned forward. "You're comparing All Might to Shigaraki? One saves lives. The other ends them."
Adrian walked to the center.
"Let's discuss lives saved. When All Might fought All For One, three city blocks were leveled. Twenty-seven civilians were caught in the crossfire. No accountability. No reparations. But he's a hero, so it's written off as a necessary sacrifice. What do you call that, if not institutional bias?"
Shigaraki's hologram was still — but his lips curled slightly. A smirk.
Adrian continued, "What my client did is heinous, yes. But that does not invalidate his right to defend himself in a court of law. By denying him trial, you do not uphold justice — you subvert it."
The room was tense.
"I call for this court to grant a formal trial for Tomura Shigaraki," Adrian said, placing the full complaint and citations on the stand. "And I offer as precedent your world's own rulings — against former heroes turned rogue, such as Stain, Gentle Criminal, and La Brava. All of them were afforded trial. All of them had Quirks. None were summarily erased."
Later That Night — Inside Tartarus
Shigaraki stared at the monitor.
"That was… ballsy," he muttered.
Adrian was gathering his papers. "It was strategic. They expect monsters. They don't know what to do with lawyers."
A pause.
"You really think you can win this?"
"Winning is relative," Adrian replied. "Today, I planted a seed of doubt. Tomorrow, I file a writ of inquiry. Next week, I bring in expert testimony — psychiatrists, war historians, even former villains who've turned straight."
"And if they still say no?"
Adrian closed his briefcase. "Then I appeal. Not just in this world. I take it higher — to the Interdimensional Tribunal of Narrative Justice. Every world that survives on a 'hero/villain' binary is under their jurisdiction."
Shigaraki leaned back, eyes unreadable.
"…You're serious about this."
Adrian turned, face unreadable, voice like cold steel.
"I don't joke, Tomura. I litigate."