Shouto Todoroki wasn't sure what he'd expected from UA but it wasn't this. The first few days had been hectic, and he didn't think it was a good thing.

Endeavour had been furious, that his son, his 'greatest creation' had not only failed to complete his first training exercise, but had also recieved detention from All Might, the very man Shouto had been 'created to surpass'.

The training session had lasted until the sky was becoming lighter with the first milky rays of dawn. The bruises would linger longer, though, as would the dull pain and duller satisfaction. Because in those remorseless blue eyes, Endeavour finally looked as angry as Shouto felt.

But Shouto handled his anger differently. Endeavour's rage was like fire, it simmered and bubbled beneath the surface and it was fuelled by resolve and sudden events. Take away the fuel, and everything would burn out into ash and skeletons of smoke, the damage would be done, the anger would be something more managable, once he'd hurt someone, he'd storm away leaving everything he'd hurt behind him, and that would be that, for him.

But Shouto's anger boiled and then froze over. He kept it all locked away inside him, and it slowly built up into his resolve. It was like a glacier, it was transparent, he knew the root of it, he knew all of the logic behind it, and it would one day be unstoppable, if nothing changed.

Shouto used his anger like a shield. He wouldn't break, he wouldn't ever use his fire. He didn't care what his father thought, he wouldn't give anyone that satisfaction.

"Your tantrum has led you to become pathetic, a dulled weapon. I didn't raise you like this."

Monoma's words would stay with him even longer. Because Monoma's words were accompanied by a memory, a memory he'd seen a thousand times before in nightmare after nightmare.

Small golden flames had blossomed into life and danced across Monoma's left side, and for an instant, he'd seen himself. Then he'd seen his father, and the mere thought of a connection made him feel numb.

Because it was still there, wasn't it?

His resolve hadn't mattered in the end. Because Monoma had just snatched his quirk, and thrown everything in his face.

And his words had hung in that moment of silence, before everything became overwhelming and he'd just wanted the fire to disappear, go back to being locked away, where it couldn't hurt anyone or remind him of his father.

"This quirk is so powerful... You really are lucky."

Shouto wished that one of the insults Monoma had yelled at him had stuck instead. He wished that he lived in a world where power wasn't everything, and he wasn't lucky Shouto Todoroki with his lucky quirk and his lucky life.

School had been lonely. He wasn't sure what he'd even wanted, but the lonliness, while not unexpected, still stung. Ever since the first day, no one had approached him, and there could be a thousand reasons why.

But none of them made it any easier to watch his classmates form friendships, like it was all just that easy. A shared dream was more than enough for people to start talking, start smiling.

So it was almost a relief for the alarms to ring and everyone to panic. Because it was something he could overcome with logic, and it served as a nice distraction.

And by the end of it all, the only thing that had changed was the newfound trust in Iida and Yaoyorozu in their roles of authority.

Privately, Todoroki thought that the trust was already there. The rest of the class had learned how real this would be the second they all watched Minoru Mineta walk away, and had voted for those they knew would be able to shoulder the burden the best.

Iida had proved himself to be competent and thoughtful when he'd analysed his peers' performances in the training exercises with All Might. Yaoyorozu's promise to Jirou to be better next time, and her unwavering resolve had been inspiring.

Everyone knew they were in safe hands, and they'd move forwards together, with their friends and with people there to help them catch up if they fell behind.

And Todoroki couldn't tell if he'd been left behind by his classmates already, or if he was so far ahead of them, so far above them, trapped on the pedestal his lucky father had placed him on.


The morning was perfectly innocent. It was bright and sunny and there had even been fewer villains rampaging the streets.

There were fewer villains rampaging on the streets, because they were somewhere else. Somewhere they would belong and fight and weren't afraid of falling.

And this was owed entirely to Tomura Shigaraki. He was charismatic. He had proved himself. He was easy to believe in. And for people who had nothing, for people who had lost everything, they needed something, anything to believe in.

Others were in it for other reasons. They wanted wealth, they wanted money, they wanted more. They wanted the washed out dreams that they'd left behind, or they wanted something to make their life interesting.

He knew what it was like to be scared of losing, and he spoke about it, he let them know that he was stronger for trying.

With words came understanding, and with understanding came committment. And all the movement, all the ideas of change and destruction became something interesting. Something people would fight for, because they had decided to risk trying.

They'd join because they wanted something. Something better, something to make them happier, something to save them, from the world or from themselves. From their boring or dissatisfying lives.

They were villains. They'd already decided what they wanted, and so the heroes couldn't save them. The heroes hadn't saved them, and that was the root of the problem, for most of them. Most of them lived in poverty, and watched as heroes flaunted wealth and expensive gadgets. So they, in turn, would make the heroes wonder what it was like to not be saved, because they were villains, and they'd follow that path to the end, whatever the reason they chose it.

And if this worked, they would have something more to show for it.


The excitement on the bus was nearly tangible. In every seat, students laughed and chattered and smiled.

Bakugo was listening to Kirishima debate the appeal of flashy quirks with Momo, and soon it became a full blown discussion. Evveryone had an opinion, everyone wanted to be heard, and it all felt like belonging.

Todoroki sat quietly in a corner, and listened, just as Bakugo was. But he kept silent as Monoma sung the praises of flashy quirks for distractions and publicity, and hated his own flashy quirk.

He heard the others agree, mentioning how much easier it was to be noticed with a brighter, better quirk, and wondered, as his bruises throbbed, if he'd ever actually belong in this world.


Things went wrong very, very quickly. Thirteen was waiting for them, as planned. Thirteen gave an inspirational speech, as planned. They entered the building, as planned.

The doors sliding shut behind them certainly wasn't planned. Neither was the sudden surge of black mist.

It was chaos. Students were screaming and struggling. The teachers had no idea what to attack, and instincts honed by years of battles and villain attacks were instantly on red alert.

The whole attack took seconds. When the black mist leapt away, and watched from a distance with narrowed yellow eyes, All Might, Eraserhead and Thirteen were gone.

"Apologies." The figure made out of mist said politely. To Bakugo, it felt completely out of place, with all of the students still reeling with the shock of the attack. Their teachers had just been whisked away, safety turned to danger in seconds, and he apologised.

Like manners had any place on a battlefield.

In an attack, manners and flimsy gestures meant nothing. Words were weightless if they were solely for the sake of politeness. Actions, decisions, being able to move meant everything.

"I will not attack you unless you attack me first. To involve students in a quarrel meant for their teachers would be truly regrettable." The man made of mist told them, like he was discussing the weather.

"And attacking our teachers is something villains would do." Monoma sneered, and his words were like a trigger, people started shifting into battle stances.

And disasterously, Kirishima and Satou rushed forwards, the latter having hastily swallowed sugar, and both were screaming battle cries, raw and hoarse and full of outrage. They didn't get far.

At least this time, their class knew what was happening and Bakugo was still lashing out, even as the mist surged over them like a tidal wave. Bakugo was still fighting as he drowned in the darkness.

And even as the black mist crawled over the last of his vision, he saw complete and utter, almost animalistic fear in the purple eyes next to him.


The teachers, of course, thought first of their students. A quick scan of his surroundings told Aizawa that none of his students were nearby, and that they were in the Central Plaza. Only it was very crowded.

They were surrounded by villains. Some, Aizawa could recognise, like Trapezius Head Gear known for his strength and brutality. He'd narrowly avoided capture in the weeks before by taking hostages, then using them as a distraction and fleeing. Aizawa distantly hoped they'd finally capture him when this was over.

Other villains had scars, meaning fighting experience. Others stood clustered in groups and smirking. They probably knew how to work together, then. Groups of villains weren't uncommon, the lifestyle was dangerous and alliances were a logical choice for many.

But there'd never been anything on this scale before.

This didn't bode well for any of them. Especially as they needed to end this quickly, and find their students. They were so young and inexperienced and innocent. And while Aizawa knew they were powerful, he was willing to bet that any of the villains here would have more experience. They had to be defeated before they could hurt his kids. Failure wasn't an option.

"Oh? Where has your smile gone, All Might?" A voice sneered. Aizawa looked to where he'd heard the sound and no doubt saw their leader for the first time.

The other villains were looking to him for signals, and he was clearly the most messed up of the lot, judging by the hand on his face. He stood proudly in the circle of villains surrounding the three heroes. Behind him, a huge, hulking monster stood silently, staring blankly forwards.

Beside him, All Might shifted, preparing to fight at a moment's notice, and although Aizawa couldn't see them, he was sure Thirteen had done the same.

Unbidden, the words from Thirteen's speech came back to him, like a ghost whispering a warning that no one could hear.

"Your powers are not meant to inflict harm, I hope that you leave here today with the understanding that you're meant to help people."

All Might's face was white with fury, and Aizawa knew that he himself was in a similar state. Children were at risk here. Children. Children with whole futures ahead of them. Children who hadn't yet become a part of this conflict. Children who weren't ready.

Powers weren't meant to harm. Powers were meant to help, to save. But for heroes, power meant protecting, and sometimes that meant harming others. Harming villains.

They'd fight if they must, and they'd win. Because heroes always won in the end. They had to, because those kids deserved to try for a happy ending.

"Well," the leader's face twisted into a grin. "let's begin the end of the age of heroes!"

And with that, everything descended into chaos.


Todoroki stared at what he assumed was the Conflagration Zone in horror. Flames danced tauntingly across the buildings and the landscape was lit with a rosy glow. He could almost imagine that any of the figures weaving through the wreckage were his father, with cold eyes and heavy fists.

The flames twirled, and Todoroki was only partly aware of the girl stumbling to her feet behind him, and instead wondered if he'd ever be free from fire.


Bakugo was still fighting as he came out the portal, still thrashing and lashing out like it would save him. He heard a wail behind him, and turned to see Aoyama stagger away from where he'd been dropped, eyes still terrified. Tsuyu, who'd landed far more quietly, turned to help him without comment.

Bakguo turned away from them, and instead stared up at the sheer cliffs of the Mountain Zone, caging them in and looming over them, like giants ready to crush them. But the cliffs weren't the real danger. No, that was the villains, already charging towards them.

Explosions roared to life in Bakugo's hands and he charged into the conflict, thinking only of protecting the two behind him.


The man made of mist sighed, and Tokoyami could only stare in horror. Almost the entirety of the class had vanished due to his quirk. He was left with only a few others. Denki, if he recalled correctly, was trembling in fear, and Yaoyorozu had planted herself in front of him in a defensive stance, eyes narrowed. Other students were trying to gather their resolve.

"How unfortunate. I have duties to attend elsewhere..." The man muttered, and Tokoyami could only stare in shock, and he could feel Dark Shadow beginning to stir, intoxicated by his shock and rage. Even with the situation being so dire, he could feel his last dregs of control slipping, and fought to somehow remain with the awful clarity.

He wanted to wake up. He wanted this to be a dream. But it was real, and it was happening and they were all in so much danger.

"I trust you'll be able to handle things here?" With a jolt, Tokoyami realised that the villain was talking to somene else. Someone else on his side.

Meaning there was another threat.

"Oh yeah. I'll be fine here. These brats? They don't stand a chance!" An obnoxious voice chortled from behind them.

From behind them. The sudden loss of vision had left them disorientated, and with a cold, sinking horror, that even froze Dark Shadow, Tokoyami realised that this new villain was between them an the exit.

They were trapped. Trapped like animals, like lambs in a cage of lions, because they weren't ready. They were so underprepared it was almost funny. They weren't ready, they weren't! They'd never been in a real combat situation before, not real, not against people who had years and years of practice with their quirks.

And Tokoyami could feel his grip on his own quirk fading. Fading as slowly and as surely as the night did when dawn arrived. The last, fragile ribbons of control were already being swallowed by the blinding fear and anger, all fueled from the sudden, gripping desire to live.

To live, or die fighting.

Aware that the others were doing the same, Tokoyami turned to stare down his opponent.

A repusive murky mountain stared back. Bulging yellow eyes, narrowed disconcertingly on the students were alight with malice. The kind of confident cruelty that came from knowing that you were going to win.

Misshapen teeth stretched into a grin.

"Yeah," the sludge gurgled smugly. "you aren't leaving unless you can get past me. Face it: you're trapped!"