"Um, can someone tell me why splodey boy is wearing only his tighty-whities?" Mina Ashido flippantly gestured at the wide screen projection, currently playing live footage from ground Beta.

"You're guess is as good as mine." A deadpanning Kevin said from beside her– though Ashido sensed he knew exactly why.

"I thought for sure Bakugou was down for the count after Midoriya doused him." Kaminari scratched his head confusedly.

"Technically, Midoriya never restrained Bakugou using the capture tape All Might gave us." Sero pointed out.

The electric boy straightened. "Ohhh, dude, you're totally right! Bakugou and Iida are still in this thing!" He smashed his fist in his palm.

"Um, I don't think so." Hagakure argued.

Kaminari spun on the invisible girl.

"Like, Midoriya and Yaomomo pretty much already won, if she reaches over and taps it, it's over. Does he actually believe he can blast them without hitting the bomb– and secure it for Iida and himself? I don't buy it! Something fishy is going on here!" Her floating gloves mimicked an arms crossing motion.

Class 1-A then watched, stunned, as Bakugou raised his right grenade bracer, with the obvious intention of firing on Midoriya and Yaoyorozu. When he threatened to pull the pin, All Might's thunderous voice boomed in the observation room. Kevin secretly always wanted to use a cape as a part of his costume– alas, they weren't practical in a combat setting such that a hero finds themselves in frequently. The pro had the infinite strength to boast a glorious mantle like that without being criticized for its im-practicalities. All Might muffled a cough with his elbow– the students thinking nothing of it.

"Young Bakugou, if you pull that pin, both you and your teammate will be disqualified!" He warned seriously, though Bakugou hardly seemed to register what his teacher just told him.

"That is your FINAL warning!"

A bright explosion ripped across the camera feed– briefly altering the screen to black static. Their teacher frantically fiddled with his earpiece, attempting to reach his students.

"Young Bakugou! Young Yaoyorozu! Can you hear— *cough!* Me!? Can *cough!*— can any of you hear me!? Damnit! I've lost connection!"

"Bakugou is fucking crazy!" Ashido blurted loudly, though no one objected.

The camera feed restored itself, allowing for the denizens of the observation room to breathe heavy sighs of relief as everyone seemed relatively unharmed.

"THANK GOD." All Might deflated slightly, clearly rattled– it was his first day of teaching class and a student almost died under his supervision.

Midoriya had told him a plethora of stories involving the man's heroic deeds, so Kevin got the basic gist of what All Might was all about; Bravado, charisma, presence, justice– those kinds of things. By every common denominator, the number one hero of Japan was the perfect super hero.

All Might's coughing fit worsened, as the symbol of peace gradually found himself buckled next to the granite wall, leaning his arm on the flat surface for balance. By now the class wasn't focused on the screen anymore– they were busy attending to their ill teacher.

A particularly violent hack caused him to discharge a spray of red liquid across his large hand. Immediately, he tried to hide the evidence, though not before Shoto Todoroki, the heterochromatic boy closest to the man when his coughing tantrum began, witnessed the hero's physical blood with wide eyes– unbelieving of what he was seeing.

Todoroki likely didn't think All Might could bleed.

"Sir, I must advise you go see Recovery Girl. We can send someone else from our class to collect our friends at ground Beta." Shoji then politely offered his shoulder for the pro to rest on, with Sato and Kirishima following his example.

"Thank you! But really…I am… *cough!*...I'm OK!" He waved them off unconvincingly, rising to his full height.

"I don't think coughing up blood is exactly healthy, ribbit." Asui croaked emphatically.

"Oh, shit!" Mineta gasped, instinctively compelling his classmates to return their focus to the main projection.

"Midoriya just pushed Bakugou!"

Kevin clambered next to the guardrail for a closer view of the action presented on screen. Despite the lack of audio queues, he recognized from the years he spent trapped in the prisons of the Null Void what those stances indicated.

He had known Midoriya for about as long as he knew Bakugou, and despite living with the blonde initially, he already favored the greenette several times over. Something Kevin learned from his tenure with the Bakugou family, was that they had serious anger management issues. The mother and son were particularly guilty of this. He felt sorry for the dad– Masaru– having to put up with that shit every single day. He almost went insane and he barely spent a month in that hell hole. Then again… Masaru did choose to marry that banshee of a woman– to Mitsuki. That could only mean one thing: Masaru Bakugou was a masochist.

Regardless, the result was still Midoriya and Bakugou preparing to strangle one another.

"YO! Almighty! Those two idiots are about to kill each other! Pull your head out of your ass and GET MOVING!"

The pro hero dismissed his stained hand, disappearing from sight with a strong gust. He barely caught the man's shadow as he launched into the sky with a single jump, cape flapping behind him akin to blue wings. Kevin wiped the nervous sweat from his brow, shielding his eyes of blinding light as the hero momentarily eclipsed the sun. He was competent enough to take a hint at least. Backpedaling inside the observation room, he took residence beside a huffing Jiro.

"What is that hobgoblin saying to him?" Her face paint was drawn into a thin glower.

"If I were to make an assumption, it's something related to his mom." Kevin shrugged.

"I hate that you're probably right. Baka-go definitely would stoop that low to get one over on Green. Everything is a damn competition to that guy."

"If there wasn't already a staff meeting after school today, then I'd personally escort you both to Nezu." All Might rumbled.

"So for now, I think I'll defer to Eraser Head instead." The hand he used to gesture to their homeroom teacher was slicked with blood.

Eraser Head descended from a nearby lamppost via his capture tool. Somehow, their sleep deprived homeroom teacher managed to appear more intimidating than the seven-foot number one hero directly behind him. His tangled, wild hair levitated aloft from the base of his skull, eyes illuminated by crimson light. Bakugou's hands stopped popping like miniature firecrackers as his quirk factor was erased.

"Bakugou and the Problem Child– with me– now." He allowed no space for conjecture.

Without hesitation, Iida and Yaoyorozu rose to his defense.

"Bakugou instigated everything!" Iida insisted, while massaging his tender nose from where the spiteful warhead knocked him earlier.

It was apparent that Bakugou's words had disturbed them greatly, as the Yaoyorozu heiress nodded to show that she agreed with him. Bakugou emitted a low growl at the pair of tousled teens.

"I know." Mr. Aizawa rubbed at his eyes irritatingly. "Look, If you both are well enough to take yourselves to Recovery Girl's office, then please do so. If not, then All Shite here will escort you." His red gaze fell upon Izuku– as Atlantean.

"Transform back. We'll talk more in the classroom."

Izuku refused to budge– his posture remained tense, like a spring ready to unleash its kinetic energy at any given moment.

"Midoriya."

He was furious.

Actually, furious didn't even begin to describe how pissed off he was at Katsuki Bakugou right now. His absurd hypothetical scenario with him swapping places with his bully to save his mom had riled a vindictive spirit that laid dormant inside him. That same spirit was clawing and scratching underneath his skin, begging to be free. It hungered to put the blonde in his place.

Recognizing that he was very close to imploding, The aquatic alien walked towards the opposite building situated across the street, and without any warning– punched its base, his arm sinking into the rock like wet carboard. The power behind the strike created a small earthquake, shattering the cement structure from the impact crater in a spider web fracture design. The structure held its own, as it didn't fully collapse– however, the message he intended to send was fairly evident. Extracting his arm from the wall, Izuku acknowledged that his fist was smoking.

'So that's what it feels like… to not pull my punches…'

"I understand you're upset, but you need to calm down." All Might's sanitary hand clasped his shoulder.

"Don't patronize me." He brushed away from the man's contact.

The split second glimpse back at Bakugou reignited his temper. Acting on impulse, he marched up to the blonde, Eraser Head's capture tool hovering at the ready.

"Don't you ever speak my on mother's name again. Filth." He practically spat that last part at the blonde.

He ignored his instructors as he morphed into Slipstream, speeding into the distance.

"I'll take the kids to Chiyo…" All Might sighed, leaving behind an irate Eraser Head with a disgruntled Bakugou.

"You don't have to do this."

Shirai paused at the dimly lit bar.

"You're not drunk?" He glanced over his shoulder.

Dabi scowled, glaring at the equally scarred man.

"Been sober for a few days now." He referred to his glass. "It's soda."

"Well, that's progress."

"Listen," He set his beverage down on the countertop with an audible clink, leaning forward, "You aren't going through with this procedure."

"Perhaps you have forgotten. This is my decision."

"I can't wrap my head around it. All Might– he isn't Endeavor. What closure do you gain from doing this?"

"Careful lad, I'm starting to think you care about what happens to me."

Dabi grit his teeth in irritation.

"Then I don't get it! You're sole mission is to sully Endeavor's name forever. How will this bring that monster to justice?"

For that, Shirai had no rebuttal. If anything, killing the number one meant Endeavor was next in line to take his place. Like Dabi said, Endeavor– he isn't All Might. Without their precious symbol of peace, hero society would threaten to collapse– Shirai was certain of that.

"Two of the heaviest hitters in the hero world will be in attendance at that facility. If master is confident his Nomu are enough to handle him, then I trust his judgement."

"It's suicide." Dabi corrected him.

"Its killing two birds with one stone… and I'm the stone." Shirai fixed him with a bleary glare.

"What do you want, Dabi?"

Dabi rubbed his gnarled purple eyebags in exasperation.

"Fuck it. I'll be honest… You're the only bastard here that I can sort of tolerate, besides Toga– and she gets on my nerves more than usual these days. Both of us were wronged by Endeavor. Our bodies are proof of his sins. Society– they want nothing to do with us. They'd prefer we didn't exist. So they ignore us– they turn the blind eye. Come on, you know all this!" He patted the man's arm.

"To them, we're invisible. We're ghosts. People who are better off living among the dead. Forgotten about. But I know we're not. Now, we can force them to look at us! So that maybe, they'll begin to realize their heroes are nothing more than bonafide fakers!" He desperately gesticulated between him and the half-blind man.

"To expose hero society for what it truly is." He summarized.

"An admirable goal." Shirai agreed.

"Right! So where is this coming from all of a sudden!? Have you given up!?" Dabi slammed his stitched hands on the countertop, frustration evident in his posture.

"To you, perhaps, it appears that way. If there was ever a point in your life where you questioned whether the love you felt for someone was genuine or not… then you damn sure know the answer once you've watched them die in front of your own eyes."

Dabi had no retort to that.

"For what it's worth, I found you tolerable as well. Even with your excessive drinking habits..." He briefly activated his quirk.

"...I can see there is a good man inside of you somewhere." He clapped the taller villain's leather bound shoulder.

Shirai turned to Kurogiri, whose facial features were obscured by a thick purple mist. The warp gate user had been polite enough to remain quiet all throughout he and Dabi's verbal dispute.

"I look forward to meeting you on the other side... Oboro."

His slanted yellow irises dilated in response, providing no additional support to indicate he understood what that meant.

"Wait." Dabi interjected himself again, as Shirai slowed his pace to a halt. "My little brother is in that class… His name is Shoto."

"Hmph, Shoto." He repeated.

"If you have no choice then–"

"–You have my word. No harm will come to your brother."

"...Thanks."

With nothing else to impede him, Shirai entered the partially underground laboratory. As he descended the metal steps, he noted the air's sterile stench, comparing it to that of a morgue. Unfazed by the vertically righted liquid vats containing mutated corpses (Which were now moving), he arrived at his destination.

Dr. Ujiko instructed him to remove his clothes and he complied without complaint. Shirai laid flat atop his back across the length of the illuminated operating table. As the doctor fretted about, checking his machines and counting his scalpels, he stared straight ahead at the ceiling, tracing the pipelines and support beams.

"The nomufication process takes two and a half hours on average. However, on live subjects, that time frame is nearly doubled." He informed Shirai as he snapped on a pair of rubber gloves.

"The sedatives will take away the pain for the first thirty minutes. After that, I can't administer anymore for risk of you overdosing. This is going to hurt unlike anything you've ever experienced before."

"Fuel to get me motivated, Doctor."

The mad scientist, while normally thrilled to be performing surgical tasks on living things, demonstrated that he was not pleased to be operating on this specimen in particular.

"The blood tests show that you're genetically compatible to receive three quirks in addition to your own preexisting one. I plan to give you strength augmentation, super regeneration, and a diluted variation of Dabi's own quirk: Cremation.

I must warn you: There is a reason why our Nomu are created using deceased bodies. Our physiology was never meant to receive so many different quirks simultaneously. Your body will break down at a gradual rate. Your internal organs will fail. You will feel phantom pains– in places they shouldn't be. You will be unable to sleep. Your brain will develop a fog, you're muscles will twitch and cramp unexpectedly, and you're speech may be slurred or even slowed. Your DNA will be so badly damaged, that there is a strong chance you will undergo a complete personality shift."

"Doctor, are you trying to discourage me?"

"I um… feel like your expertise would be beneficial in other areas." He deflected.

"Heh. Don't go growing a heart on me now. You've never needed one before. God knows where mine is– and I lost it years ago…"

Dr. Ujiko's brows scrunched together.

"Master gets away with it because that IS his quirk. Even if the attack on UA is successful, I cannot guarantee you'll still be alive by the end of the month."

Shirai said nothing as he digested that information.

"...Very well then." Dr. Ujiko conceded reluctantly, taking the other man's silence as his answer. "Master never turns down the opportunity to add another hero to his collection." He grunted in effort as he tightened the straps binding Shirai's limbs to the operating table.

Stretching a mask over his bushy mustache, the mad scientist brandished a syringe bearing a mysterious dark fluid. He tested the pressure, flicking the dribbling needle. He located a vein on the underside of his forearm, carefully piercing his skin.

"This should limit the pain somewhat. I'm giving you twice the normal dosage."

Drowsiness seeped into him, as he drifted into unconsciousness, transfixed by the doctor's steampunk goggles. There emerald coloration reminded him of that boy– Midoriya.

Lucidly, his mind wandered to how he became this way.

His real name was not Shirai.

The name he gave to Izuku Midoriya was the same he'd given to his devoted group of seventeen followers. It meant, 'trust in death.'

His real name was Nokan Shisho.

Born to an impoverished family in the crime-ridden slums of Hosu, Nokan learned at an early age that in order to have anything in this world– you had to fight for it. Nothing ever came easy. Money was all but meaningless without the form of blood loitering it about. And strength– true strength– was being able to overcome these obstacles in spite of everything life threw at you.

When his quirk (Forewarning) manifested– he mistakenly believed that he had been daydreaming– like his father told him when he described what he saw. However, as days and nights passed, it became increasingly obvious that something out of the ordinary was happening to him. Whenever he looked at people, images flickered beneath his eyelids. These moving pictures crystalized themselves inside his prismatic memory. They always pertained to the present and forwards, playing out a distinct scenario in his head before retreating deep into his subconscious.

He began to notice a common pattern: When he chose to ignore these visions, they never failed to take place– regardless of what other factors most certainly should've changed that. When he chose to intervene, they remained as only that– visions. Thoughts– actions that weren't put into motion. Nokan had the power to see people's futures and change them. A single glance meant that for the next ten seconds, whatever unlucky soul he set his sights on, was completely at his mercy.

Midoriya sure knew how much could change in a mere ten seconds.

That frame of time served as the bare minimum, as he was capable of looking beyond this, seeing hours– sometimes months further into their future. The drawback of forewarning was that overuse led to him experiencing severe migraines. That wasn't as much of an issue as it may initially appear to be– he always carried headache medicine on his person for this exact reason.

Critical of the system he'd grown under, Nokan concluded that his quirk was an avenue towards making a positive change.

So he decided to become a hero.

He was a UA alumni himself, ironic as it was. During his tenure at the hero school, he trained his body and spirit tirelessly. Even if he had the ability to see his opponents movements before they acted upon them– he still had to be able to engage them in hand-to-hand combat. It was his intense commitment and professionalism that he displayed from the moment he set foot in the academy, that drew upon the attention of a fellow lower classmen.

Oboro Shirakumo asked him if he could teach him how to fight like he did.

Nokan obliged his request, and eventually, through Shirakumo, he became friends with the likes of Shota Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada, and Nemuri Kayama– better known by their hero aliases of Eraser Head, Present Mic and Midnight.

Nokan's hero name had been Seer.

While it was Shirakumo who introduced them, it was Aizawa who proved to be the most determined in besting him in combat. He recalled Yamada loudly remarking one day that they both had the same, 'pretty red eyes,' whenever there quirks activated. Well, Aizawa wasn't always a man founded on rationality and logic. He may as well have been blind to the fact that he was crushing on his best friend.

He treated Nokan more similarly to that of a romantic rival.

Having seen Shirakumo's determination up close, Nokan decided he should invite his energetic lower classmen to join him on his work studies, under the pro hero Tongue-Twister. During a patrol, a surprise villain attack resulted in Shirakumo being killed.

Aizawa had blamed Nokan for his death, and this dispute is what drove the group apart.

Once he graduated from UA, he moved back to his home town– Hosu. Using the guilt from Shirakumo's death as fuel, he buried himself in the world of underground heroics for five, long, grueling years. He took his job more seriously than anyone else in his department– expressing a, 'no time for bullshit,' attitude. Criminals used to hope and prey that they wouldn't have to cross paths with Seer— because once his eyes were on you— you were not escaping him.

That's how he met her.

Her name was Atera. There first interaction was him interrogating her in a police station for answers involving a high profile case. She masterfully danced around each of his carefully phrased questions. By the end of the session he was no closer to drawing a conclusion than he was when it started. That's when she made her presence clear to him in his mind. She possessed a telepathy quirk. Right then, he understood.

Never before in his life, had someone else been able to see the world the way he could. Through that intellectual stalemate– through that quantized understanding– love blossomed. He quit heroics, taking on a considerably less dangerous occupation (A desk job). He rented them a high quality studio apartment. Atera bore them a beautiful son, as they telepathically agreed he should be named Taino. For a while, Nokan was content and happy with his situation. He had more than most, and he was still relatively young, with his whole life ahead of him. He got to be a father and a loving husband– and soon, they would have enough saved up to move into a bigger house outside of the city.

Winter— snow flutters from the clouds like icey angels.

It was Christmas Eve.

Gift bags in hand, he ascended the stairs leading out of the crowded subway station. Immediately, his peripheral was assaulted by a harsh orange light. Horror overcame his stoic features, as he realized the apartment complex where he lived in was burning to cinders. He sprinted over to the paramedics. He searched among the dozens of soot-coated faces, none belonging to his family. His focus shifted towards the flaming building.

'PLEASE! SOMEONE! SAVE US, PLEASE!' Atera's mental plea had reached him.

Seer's heroic instincts commandeered the helm, urging him to drop the presents and rush inside, much to the shock of those who tried to pull him back. Reaching the correct story, he stopped dead short of a twenty foot drop. Across a collapsed section of flooring, he spotted his wife and son huddled together, trapped by falling debris.

His quirk activated.

Ten seconds…

Forewarning showed them both dying.

Nine…

Atera reads his mind.

Eight…

She saw his vision– she knew they were already dead.

Seven…

She holds their only child closer.

Six…

'I love you, Nokan…' Atera whispered.

Five…

He leapt the gorge, narrowly falling backwards.

Four…

Tears streamed from Taino's eyes as he screamed and cried for his dad to save them.

Three…

The ceiling cracked ominously.

Two…

They were in arms length!

One…

…He wasn't fast enough.

The roof above their heads collapsed, instantly crushing them to death. The wail of raw anguish he let out was soon swallowed by the roar of the encroaching flames.

Now delirious with emotion, Nokan scrambled to find any semblance of sanity in his situation. A weak cry from the floorboards beneath him alerted him of the presence of another person who appeared to have been trapped within the ember infused wreckage. Hastily, he lowered himself through the charred opening, he dropped in place beside them– noting that the source was an elderly women.

Sobbing coincided with violent coughing and irritated eyes– Nokan vowed he wouldn't allow for another soul to be taken by this fire. Shattering the window with his elbow, he hollered for the firefighters attention on the street corner. It took some encouragement but the older woman finally jumped, landing unharmed on the safety net below.

As he moved to follow her out, a burgeoning flame set the window sill ablaze, effectively boxing him off his escape route. Navigating his rapidly deteriorating surroundings, Nokan barreled through a river of raging flames, tumbling down the stairwell. Clawing his way to freedom, he found a section of the wall that had burnt away, exposing him to the cold outside world.

That's when he saw him.

The number two hero, Endeavor.

Their eyes met– red on blue.

When Nokan calls to him for help, the flame hero ignores him, turning to make chase after a petty purse snatcher.

The multitude of sounds reverberating from every direction prevented him for dodging the timber column as it smashed into his skull, pinning his torso to the floor, searing the right side of his face. His eye boiled due to the immense pressure and heat. The column was too heavy for him to lift, so he was forced to writhe on the floor madly. He passed out from the pain, believing that he too, had perished in the flames.

But then he woke up.

A nurse handed him a mirror so he could inspect the scarring.

Blinded on his right without his eye– he was now permanently disfigured as half of his facial structure was melted down to the bone. As expected, the thin, angry vermilion skin was sensitive to the touch. Beside his hospital bed, in a small plastic basket, were the unopened presents intended for his family.

It was Christmas day.

It was in that moment, that Nokan knew that he needed to get revenge on Endeavor– to bring that false hero to justice. He successfully took the man to court, where the flame hero faced dozens of severe allegations that would irreparably tarnish his image in the public eye. All of which, would be dismissed as the jury and judge accepted bribes from Endeavor and his legal team to side in his favor.

Now disgraced, without a family, without a job, Nokan fell into darkness, where nothing seemed to make any sense and nothing seemed to have any significance. He was a shell. How could he not be? Everything he had loved and worked for– it was all gone.

His wife Atera?

Gone.

His son Taino?

Gone.

His apartment?

Gone?

His money?

Gone.

His pride?

Seared into his flesh by the ruins wrought by Endeavor's negligence.

The people turned their back on him, when he needed them the most.

What other option did he have?

It was time to fight for what he knew was right– as he'd always done.

He amassed a cult following online– for those who worship Stain ideologies found his writings to be equally influential. To some– they found his story– his conviction so inspiring– they devoted their allegiance utterly to him. Together, he would assemble seventeen people willing to die for his cause– to die with him.

To destroy the flame hero's reputation beyond dissolution.

Such a tragedy would undoubtedly end the pros career. His plan had been perfect– had been executed perfectly. If not for ONE variable that had been unaccounted for: Izuku, Slipstream, Midoriya.

Only a boy that was hell bent on being a hero would be so fool hardy enough to oppose a train full of villains wielding firearms. For that, Nokan was obligated to give Midoriya respect for his tenaciousness. Running with a bullet wound is not as easy as the movies make it seem. Yet the teen powered through the pain in each stride he took– to save everyone.

Even him.

The Endeavor agency was destroyed, but the people inside had escaped before the collision occurred.

His meeting with his wife and son was being delayed.

While on the run from the authorities, he took refuge in a cramped alleyway. His eye sight had been muddied considerably by that girl with the hearing quirk. Despite this, he was able to use forewarning on shocked passersby to pinpoint his location and figure out where he needed to hide.

As the chill of the night time air was beginning to settle around him like a shivering blanket– he would be approached by a young man with spindly powder blue bangs framing his face. Accompanying him was a hulking figure in a trench coat and fedora. They quickly deduced based on Nokan's appearance that he was the villain boss Shirai from the news that morning.

"If you want another chance to get back at those hero scum, then come with us."

There was no timeline where Nokan turned that offer down.

As scheduled, the UA faculty held an emergency meeting as soon as classes ended that Tuesday. Principal Nezu sat at the head of the table, with Cementoss seated at his right and Recovery Girl to his left. He poured a cup of his most expensive tea out for Chiyo as a gesture of politeness. All Might was the only teacher not in attendance, though he was pardoned by Nezu for his absence beforehand.

"The stage is yours. Whenever you're ready, you may proceed." The quirked animal gave the nurse the go-ahead nod.

Returning the motion, she exposed the knife to her coworkers, unravelling it from a soft white cloth on the table.

"One of yours today found a dagger that was hidden in the gardens." She started.

"You think it belongs to one of my students?" Vlad King frowned.

"No." Chiyo huffed.

"She means one of mine then." Eraser Head spoke from where he was leaning in his swivel chair, arms crossed over his chest.

"Kyoka Jiro, I believe was her name."

"That is correct." He clenched his jaw.

The haggard man had been on edge ever since the battle trial. Adjacent to him, Present Mic tilted his shades so his olive green eyes were visible.

He squinted, "Is that–?"

" –Yes. Yes, it is blood."

"Oh no."

"The security tapes don't show any activity out of the ordinary, meaning the weapon was likely used in a secluded area where the attacker knew they wouldn't be seen. Which brings us to the other peculiarity of this case..." Nezu clapped his paws.

"...The DNA from the blood on the knife doesn't match anyone on record." Chiyo finished, confusion permeating the atmosphere.

"I'll prepare the search party." Hound Dog announced without a second thought.

"You think there was a villain on campus and that they attacked someone? Without any of us noticing? That's impossible." Vlad King reasoned, highly skeptical.

It was Midnight who spoke, lacking her hero persona's usual flirtatious flare, almost bordering accusatory. "You think it was a student?"

"That is my leading theory for the time being." The principal confirmed, taking a partial sip from his teacup.

"The genetic coding from within the DNA was damaged beyond repair. That is why I was unable to decipher it and find a reasonable match. My estimate was that the blood had been dry for approximately twenty-four hours before it got hand delivered to me. Whoever's blood that belongs to, assuming they survived… they aren't going to be alive for very much longer."

"How long?" Eraser Head prodded her.

"Give or take around three… maybe four months or so. Anything past the ninety day mark without treatment is a death sentence."

Sensing the tension among the school faculty, Nezu broke the silence.

"Be on high alert. Let you're colleagues know if you see something suspicious. For now, meeting adjourned."

FRIDAY

On Wednesday, Yaoyorozu had been promoted to class president of 1-A. Jiro would be enrolled as her vice, much to her shock. The election was decided by the rare few who chose to not vote for themselves. Izuku put in the vote for his best friend (To him, it was a no-brainer, disregarding his bias). He was glad to see that she took her new responsibility as a leader of their class in stride.

The teachers had been noticeably stricter– more intense– evidenced by them running tighter schedules and having quick one-on-one sessions with their students to discuss their plans for the future. It was the first week of school and the mountain of homework piling on on his desk back at the dorms was making him slightly weary of the weekend to come.

Later today, they were going to be participating in a rescue training exercise with Mr. Aizawa, Thirteen, and who else but All Might? Though, the freckled teen had run into him earlier this morning, and the hero was obviously taxed. He could make a fair guess and assume that the pro had surpassed his limit already– before class even started. So he wasn't counting on the symbol of peace to be showing his face like his classmates were.

Another development in his young life was Ochaco Uraraka. The brunette with a bob cut was actively in the process of worming her way into his heart. He made a habit of hanging out with her during lunchtime this whole week thus far. He wasn't going to come out of the gate and say he didn't like the attention– but whenever he so much as considered the idea of dating her– his thoughts flickered back to Jiro.

He might've been crushing super hard on his best friend– and that idea petrified him.

Jiro was his strongest bond. Sure, he was good friends with Kevin, and he was comfortable enough to live with the guy, but he still wasn't nearly as close to him as he was to Jiro. After his mother… she was the closest thing he had to a family.

To love.

It was for this reason, that he swore to never confess. Call him paranoid, a scaredy cat, overthinking it– but he was NOT about to sabotage the only good thing he had left going for him.

Flanking his left, Ochaco hummed contently, licking her limoncello flavored ice cream cone with rainbow sprinkles. UA provided the students with frozen treats every Friday, so Izuku suggested they both grab some from the cafeteria before they moved down to the gardens. He picked grasshopper flavored cream with chocolate chips mixed throughout. He sat beside her on a bench overlooking the pond, where rivulets of shade were cast on them from a nearby maple tree's leaves. Once he was finished chewing the base of his waffle cone, he took the metaphorical leap of faith.

"Ochaco, I like you a lot, I really do. You make me feel good about myself. Like I can be myself– when I'm around you. I enjoy spending time with you– I do. But… I am also uncertain of wherever this is heading."

"I feel the same way! But, what do you mean by this, Izu?" Ochaco gazed over at him innocently.

"To put it simply: I have issues."

She pouted at him cutely.

"Issues pertaining to myself! Not you! You're wonderful! If- if that's what you were thinking, I'm sorry! You could never be the problem! If anything, I'm the problem!"

"You're still not makin any sense Izu." Her accent revealed itself.

"As I am… currently… I don't- I don't think I can do this: Being in a relationship." His face was beet red by this point as he battled with how to articulate himself.

"That is what you wanted, right?"

She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I have been pretty forward with you, huh?"

"Y-yeah." He agreed.

He resigned himself to his fate, waiting for her to start shouting at him, or call him a good-for-nothing loser. She didn't do any of that. She didn't even slap him. Instead, she threaded her softer hands with his trembling ones, sparing the pinkies.

"I can help you. You're not alone anymore, remember? Trust me, nothing is worse than getting in your own head while you're alone. Eventually, if you're alone for too long, you'll start takin bad advice– mostly from yerself." Her gravity defying bangs flowed in tandem with the wind.

"Thank you. That means more to me than you can imagine." He shook his head sadly, biting the inside of his cheek.

"I'm messed up as it is." He admitted. "I don't want to be distracted–"

" –You think I'm a distraction?"

"What!? No, that's not what I me–" He ceased his sputtering at her giggling.

"—I know whatcha mean! I'm just teasin you silly!" She fixed him with a toothy grin, proudly displaying her fangs.

He needed to ask her about where she got those.

"I don't mind if we're just friends." She said honestly.

"Really?" He was unable to conceal his surprise, and whether he liked it or not– a weight had been lifted from chest.

"Mmhmm! I was gettin pretty bored of eatin lunch in the same place every day."

He laughed with her.

"But its tradition!"

She stuck her tongue at him childishly.

"Thank you. Again. For being so understanding. You're really amazing, Ochaco."

"Aww, you're not so bad yourself, Izu. Is it OK if I still call you that?"

He reassured her that he didn't mind.

"I don't know why, but it feels weird for me to call you Midoriya."

"I know right!?"

The bus containing the 1-A students was bustling with noise and excitable energy. The space hero Thirteen introduced herself earlier as their overseeing rescue training instructor. Which is why they were headed towards the largest off-campus facility in UA. Known more by its abbreviated name, the USJ– what it stood for was this: Unforeseen Simulation Joint. The purpose of the super structure was to replicate disaster scenarios so that young heroes can train in those environments and learn to circumvent them. The glass dome's reflective crown was visible from miles down the paved road.

Bumping shoulders with Koda had the effect of pulling Izuku from of his dissociative haze. That's when he noticed his wrist was vibrating. The Omnitrix was flashing yellow and mechanically shifting on its own accord.

"What the heck? What's wrong with this thing?" He tapped the central dial.

"It's never done this before." He commented more to himself than anything.

Jiro squinted at him quizzically. "...You really don't notice it?"

He perked up. "Sorry?"

"Green, the Omnitrix has been bugging out like that for months."

"What? No, no, I definitely would've noticed this." He chuckled nervously, jostling his head disbelievingly.

"Nah, its true. I've seen you ignoring it too." Kevin chipped in.

Panicked by his lack of self-awareness in relation to his apparent psychosis, Izuku's gaze found itself lingering on the empty seat towards the front of the bus. A seat that would've been occupied by Bakugou. Izuku wasn't made aware of the full extent of his bullies punishment, so he could only assume there was more to it than only being suspended for the remainder of the school week. Even so… the numbing coldness constricting around his neck was impairing his ability breathe.

"You OK, Green?" Jiro asked him concernedly, slinging her guitar over her shoulder, sliding in the spot beside him to check up on her friend.

'̶͔̰̱̖̌̈́͛̋̿̋͋̾̈̾̏͠T̶̩̩̟͉͒͆̈́ŕ̴̜͙̱̜͔͎͉͙̦̯̤̈́͋͒͗͂̋̈́̌̊̒̚ẏ̷̺͍̹̳͎̤̔̏͗͛͌̓̍̄̌̚ ̴̡̧̬̭̰͉͚͙̭̭̹̠̏̌̿̑n̴̬͍̲̣͍͕̤̳̖͘o̷̩͓͑t̶̨̮̙̜̯̣̘̓̀͗͛̂̔̽͐̾̑͠ ̸̢͈̗̓̈́̌̊t̷̳̜̝̮̬̭͐͋͜͝ỏ̷̝̻̅̇̅̉͛̈́̎̀ ̴̛͇̥̜͎̼͎̈́͛̑̊͊̚l̸̡̹̖̖͈̮̻̰̣̺̄̑͑̄̃̓͛͒̔͠o̷̲̺̗̣͉̺̖̐͊̓̍̒̀̓͘͜ṣ̴̢̧̢̧̻̭̣̦͍̀̿̅͂̆̐̔̍̉̂͠͝e̵͔̖͖̐ ̷̡̨͔̤̻̤̰̅͛͂̒̎̎̈́̌͜c̵̼͓̦͚̯͖͗́̈́͆͆͗̑ò̸̻̜͚͖̭̠̲̙̭̹̅̋͆̂̍̀̎͛̋ͅͅn̶͇̣͎͓̣̫̪̝̲̄̏̒̑̃̑̚t̷͈̰̓͘r̶̮̭̫̱̘̟͔̲̂̃̾͘͜ṑ̵̢̱̩̥̓͂̔̚ͅl̶͎̟̞̗͔͋͐̋̐͘ ̵̨̧͖̣̘̼̤̀̀͑̃w̷̜̭͖͎̙̙̟͉̭̹̅̀̕ḩ̶̹͖̟̩̟̳̹̮̗̈́͂̈̈́̈́͊̐̃̃͝ĭ̷͉̣̼͈̘̹̺͎̤̌͑͗̈́̾́̀͑̇̈́̚ḽ̴̛̗̗̯̆͂̈́͑̆͋̆̉̚̚ë̴̯̝̏͐͋̓̄̊̈́͝ ̵̧̙̱͚̬̥̙͇̠̆́̚͜͝y̴̨̏͗͊ó̴̙͉̪̯̰͇͖̬̪̪̰͈̈́û̶̠̣̱͚̦͇̪̻̈́̈́̓̿̆̚͘͜ͅ'̷̡̪͖̟̬̪͊̍̾̈́̈́͊̂͂͘͠ͅr̶̙̒͐̃̃̓e̸̡̛̞̐͊̃̎͋̚͝ ̶̢̨̫͍̙̮͇̺͓͔̄̀̿̈́̈͂́̐̕ḯ̶̢͇̤̣̮̲͉̪̙̌̃̈́͠͝ń̴̗̤̲̘̔̍̐̔̂̍̋̇͘͜͝͝ ̸̧̻̖̣͚̗̠̙̹́̂̈̅̈͒̔ṭ̸̩͇̝͎̝͖̟̰̻̉͗̚͜͠h̴̤̰͙̞̔͐̀͐̋͌̀̀̓̽͘e̴̡̨̡̙̟̝̩̝̝͉͙̊̒̾͝ͅŕ̵̡̧̜̪̙̳̰̠̩̉͌̐̅̈́̎̊͋̐͛ͅe̶͚͔̜̺̦͈̓͛͊̒̍͌,̵͎̘̫̪̼͔̙̇̆̈́̓͐͑̏́̒͘ͅ ̶̼͙̯̟͕͌̀̊̄͘ͅḐ̸̱̞̦̞̙͔̭̍e̵̖͑̀̀k̷̢̢̼͓̗̮͕̖̗̤͍͛͋͛̆̀̂̎̓̎̀͘͠ų̵̻̹̈́̔͒͌̊̕͠ͅ.'̴̘̊̑͝

Author's Notes:

We're rapidly closing in on the end of the USJ Arc, and I couldn't be more thrilled for what is to come next for this story. If any of you have checked my profile, you'll see that I put a date for when you can expect the next chapter to drop. Well, I obviously haven't been as consistent with it as I'd like to be. For that, I apologize. I'm very meticulous when it comes to my writing, and if I think a chapter isn't ready to be published, I'll hold onto it for a few extra days to add some much needed polish.

I want to make it clear that I am not cancelling this story nor am I abandoning it– I'm invested, and I want to see this through to the end. So, after chapter 20 drops, I'm taking a break from this story to focus on other things. Maybe I'll upload the first chapter for another fic idea I have? Not to worry though readers, I can envision TTTH going for a strong 35-40 chapters. Hopefully, by the time the final chapter is uploaded, I will have succeeded in my goal of becoming a truly great writer who can reach people's hearts and spark their imaginations to life.

This may come as a shock to some of you, but this was not the way I originally intended this story to play out. I had eighteen fully realized chapters with in-depth notes made for each. My plan was to script and write TTTH off those OG 18 chapters, and had I kept going along with that draft, I probably would've reached chapter seventeen-going-eighteen in half the time it's taken me for this version.

The main difference of the OG script was that Vilgax was the primary antagonist hunting for the Omnitrix– not Eon. The first chapters for both versions are carbon copies of each other, so no big differences there. So how did this iteration become the script I chose to stick with?

The first review I ever got on this story was positive and encouraging, unlike the second review. The gist of what they said was that this was the most contrived, generic, out-of-character, stinky dumpster fire of a crossover fic that they had EVER read, and that me (As the author of said story) was, in turn, bad at writing. Therefore, I should give up.

GG Author.

"...and I took that personally." – Michael Jordan, The Last Dance (2020 Documentary)

I'll explain my process in the AN another time, but for now, I think I'll let the next three chapters do the talking for me. So everyone give your cheers to The One Beyond You for making this story ten times better than it originally would've been had it not been for that review. Hey, maybe there's a timeline where I didn't listen to you? I feel sorry for those guys because honestly, they're kind of missing out.