As the platform rose to a halt, nearby buildings lit up, displaying Nezu's figure on enormous screens as he prepared to speak.

"Welcome, everyone," he began, a slight smile playing on his face. "Thank you for joining us this evening. And I promise to keep this shorter than my press interview."

A few chuckles rippled through the crowd.

"Now, I know some of you have wondered—why go to the expense of building a model city just for an event?" He paused, a glint of amusement in his eye. "And yes, I've overheard a few whispers about 'wasted money.'"

A few guests shifted, chuckling nervously.

"For some, tonight might appear to be a display of resources—a show of strength to remind rivals of UA's support. And there is some truth in that. But tonight, we're also unveiling a vision for the future of heroics."

The screens switched to clips from past sports festivals, where students had showcased their abilities in fierce, competitive arenas. "Some of you may remember the criticisms we faced when we first hosted the UA Sports Festival. But it grew beyond expectations, becoming both a spectacle and a valuable proof of concept."

The images shifted again, revealing statistics alongside photos of pro heroes.

"For years, we've monitored the careers of various heroes. Heroes marked in blue here attended UA and participated in the sports festival; those marked in red did not. What we found was striking. The presence heroes who competed deterred crime significantly more than others, regardless of their ranking. Even those who didn't do particularly well."

The crowd murmured, intrigued.

"Most criminals overestimate their odds against heroes, thinking they can escape or even win. But where villains have witnessed a hero's true strength, they hesitate. They know the difference between themselves and trained heroes—and it can often be enough to stop them before they act."

Nezu leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "So, why not extend this proven deterrent on a grander scale? It's too dangerous to record real-time encounters, you risk getting in the way of the hero doing their job, while simultaneously motivating heroes to priorities performing for the camera. However, with events like UA's sports festival, we could demonstrate hero prowess worldwide, reaching the scope of the Olympics without any of those risks."

"This initiative will reduce crime through visibility, shifting hero culture from performative crime response to focused demonstration in controlled settings. Heroes could pursue fame and recognition outside their duties as protectors. It will separate the roll of hero and entertainer, allowing them to focus on either one or the other. Essentially, it will allow heroes to focus on being true heroes once more.

The crowd's murmur grew louder.

"And let's not forget the financial potential—if the UA Sports Festival brought in significant revenue domestically, imagine an international audience."

Nezu let the idea settle, then continued. "Now, you may be wondering if this plan is even achievable. Tonight, I intend to show you firsthand."

The screens flickered, cutting to footage of a drone weaving through the model city streets. The crowd gasped, pointing as massive imposing robots emerged from alleyways—speeding across the cityscape. Some were spiderlike automatons that crawled across the walls, others were glorified walking tanks, others wielded blade arms, there were truly a diverse array of imposing machines.

"Throughout the city, we've placed over a thousand robots," Nezu explained. "These prototypes will serve in our future entrance exams and curriculum. Each one is programmed to engage on sight, simulating the combat strength of villains from F-rank up to high B-rank. Heroes, feel free to test, break, or play with them as much as you like. We'll gather valuable data, but here's where it gets interesting…"

The drone soared upward, climbing to a skyscraper's summit. Murmurs rose to cheers as the crowd recognized the figure standing there, arms crossed, his signature smile beaming at the camera.

"…we will keep points, based on the number of robots you have defeated, and the top 3 contenders will win, if they so desire—a televised battle against All Might, right here in our faux city arena."

Two minutes later

"AAAND there we have our first takedown, folks! Hawks gets the first number on the board!" Present Mic's voice echoed, keeping the non-hero spectators in the loop. "As expected from the number 2 hero—speed is one of his key strengths!"

"Wait, look! We've got two more! Ingenium and Mirko tied for second—just milliseconds apart! And now, Gang Orca takes the lead with a two-in-one hit! Look at that raw power!"

The crowd erupted as the towering hero clotheslined a large wrestling bot, hurling it onto a smaller spider-bot and crushing it. Without missing a beat, he punched through the larger robot's thick steel plating, shutting it down instantly.

Nezu watched with satisfaction as his platform descended, pleased to see the audience so thoroughly engaged.

Back on the ground, he stepped off and retrieved his neglected plate of food—only to notice a new guest approaching his pedestal. Surprisingly, this guest wasn't out fighting the robots like his colleagues.

"Best Jeanist," Nezu greeted with a smile. "I'm surprised that your name isn't on the leaderboard."

The tall, lean man, clad head-to-toe in stylish denim, gave a polite nod. "I'm not particularly drawn to combat, Principal Nezu," he replied. "Though I saw this as a rare chance to speak with you directly. I have…concerns I'd like to address before committing my brand and business's support to your vision."

Nezu set his food aside, his stomach protesting slightly, but he knew Best Jeanist's endorsement could be invaluable. "Of course," Nezu replied, his expression attentive. "I understand that from your perspective, there's considerable risk. I'm happy to address any questions."

The hero nodded and, with a flick of his hand, sent a fibre strand from his denim jacket toward a nearby chair. The thread unspooled smoothly, wrapping around the chair and pulling it toward him until he stopped it with his foot. Releasing the thread, he repaired his jacket and positioned the chair to sit.

"In that case," Best Jeanist began, settling in, "I'd like to discuss student selection. What criteria are you considering? Will they have second chances? And how many will be admitted through sponsorships?"

"And how do you ensure they're true heroes?" A voice now familiar to Nezu chimed in, although once again it sent chills up his spine, this time there was a tinge of excitement.

From the look on Best Jeanists face, it was likely he too was caught off guard by the presence of Chizome Akaguro.

"A true hero?" Best Jeanist echoed. "Do you mean to imply there's such a thing as a 'fake' hero?"

"There are plenty of those," Chizome responded, "Most people who wear the title of 'hero' have no right to claim it."

"Such a bold statement to make at such an event." Best Jeanist adjusted his posture, regarding Chizome thoughtfully. "And what, exactly, makes a hero 'true' in your eyes?"

"Purity," Chizome replied without hesitation. "A true hero acts out of a genuine desire to uphold justice, without expecting anything in return. They aren't motivated by wealth, and fame. They're motivated by principles, and convictions."

"That sounds more like what we'd consider a basic moral compass, don't you think?" Best Jeanist countered, his tone calm but skeptical. "What you're describing isn't heroism—the average person in Japan is at least partly motivated by their beliefs."

Chizome shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "A simple moral compass isn't enough to motivate the average person to jump in harm's way for others. Most people avoid it unless they're offered some kind of reward or incentive. When the stakes are high and there's nothing to gain, they would rather turn their backs. Worse, if the incentive were to act against others, most would do so without a second thought."

Best Jeanist's gaze sharpened. "That's a rather bleak perception of humanity," he remarked, the disapproval evident in his voice. "But regardless, if what you describe isn't a moral compass, explain the difference to me."

"Unbridled passion. Dedication to their cause or principles that allows them to surpass the typical concerns and desires of the human creature. A true hero will uphold justice, regardless of the danger, regardless of the personal cost. Their extraordinary commitment idealism drives them, compels them to act when others would falter."

Best Jeanist took a moment, folding his hands as he considered Chizome's words. "But that extreme idealism, as you describe it, sounds dangerous. People with that kind of outlook often have rigid, uncompromising views. They decide what's 'right' and 'wrong' for others and act on their own narrow view of the world, imposing their beliefs regardless of how others feel. You're describing the mindset held by the likes of Destro, dangerous revolutionaries who were wholeheartedly convinced of their truth, which ultimately drove them to committing countless atrocities."

Chizome's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. "I'm describing the mindset of All Might, not Destro. Destro is a poor example of what I am talking about."

"I don't disagree," Best Jeanist replied, his tone unwavering. "But historically speaking, there have been far more Destros than there have been All Mights."

"That is because Destro is All Might without proper guidance." Nezu threw his two cents into the conversation, drawing his guests attention. "My apologies, your conversation was so interesting I forgot to introduce you two. Best Jeanist, this is Mr. Chizome Akagume a prospective sponsor for UA, Mr. Akagume, Best Jeanist, rank 3 hero and fashion extraordinaire."

The hero nodded politely and Chizome returned it apprehensively.

"How do you mean Destro is All Might without guidance? I'd say by their actions we can clearly tell they were violently different people." Best Jeanist asked.

Chizome looked interested in the principal's answer as well.

"Destro was a powerful, intelligent, and charismatic leader whose mission was to make lives safer, happier, and freer—a vision All Might shares. The core difference between them, however, lies in their understanding of power.

Growing up as an orphan in the harsh, quirk-driven conflict of the Dark Era, Destro saw power as a tool to take what is needed from those without it. By contrast, All Might, though also born into a dark time, was guided by mentors who instilled in him a view of power as an abundant resource meant to be shared. He believed that, as a stronger individual, he had a duty to support those in need, using his power to inspire rather than intimidate."

"Destro supported those in need as well." Chizome argued. "The crux of his movement was to free those with quirks from oppression."

"Yet the motivation for why they shouldn't be oppressed wasn't because it was unjust to be oppressed in general, it was because he saw the strong being oppressed by the weak as unjust." Best Jeanist replied.

"That's both a vast oversimplification, and a partial lie." Chizome said, and for some reason the way he did sent a shiver down Nezu's spine.

"I think we should divert the topic of discussion away from Destro for the time being." Nezu offered. "I can see the three of us have passionate opinions on that topic which could risk souring the evening.

Come, let me address your concerns, and then perhaps later we can discuss the politics of Destro."

Kaitsu sat on a bench, taking in the environment of the Shibuya crossing. The location had been iconic since even before the quirk era but being one of the few prominent locations in Tokyo left miraculously unscathed by past conflict during the dark, it gained even more popularity.

Today, Shibuya Crossing was a "memorialized zone," a place deemed historically and culturally important enough to be left untouched by new development and only maintained as it was. This meant no quirk accessibility features were added here, which resulted in a lower population of mutants in the surrounding community. Many who disliked mutants moved into areas like these. With accessibility lacking, most mutants found it challenging to live in Shibuya, leading many to move elsewhere. This dynamic created a cycle: as more mutants left, more mutant-averse people moved in.

Not all mutants had left, though; those with subtle or minor mutations were often tolerated and still somewhat common. This made the area the perfect "hunting ground" for Kaitsu to find new mutations to add to his roster.

Over the past few months, Kaitsu had learned that most quirks resulted in only minor, often impractical mutations. Exceptions came in two forms: powerful standard quirks that needed a strong mutation to handle it or quirks that were primarily mutation-focused. However, appearances could be deceiving. Sometimes a mutation seemed useful but relied on other aspects that didn't carry over when he copied it. A student at his school, for instance, had an older sister with cement-like hair that acted as an extra limb. After copying her mutation, Kaitsu quickly discovered he couldn't move the "cement hair" and ended up face-planting under its sudden weight.

With entrance exams looming, he needed as many useful mutations as possible, but copying obvious, full-body mutations was too risky. People with extreme mutations were usually sensitive about them and often didn't take well to his attempts to mimic them.

Worse, copying a highly visible mutation increased his chances of being reported to a hero. He'd already gotten a verbal slap on the wrist after what happened at the mall, and he didn't want to risk the chance that the next hero would be as lenient as Native.

So he'd come up with a solution: cast a wide net. By copying as many smaller, less noticeable mutations as possible, he hoped he could collect at least a handful that might prove useful.

He had considered waiting until the exams themselves to acquire useful mutations from others trying for the exam, but he was both too impatient to wait, and didn't want to gamble like that.

Standing up from the bench, Kaitsu began his usual routine. He scanned the crowds crossing the street, looking for people with unique mutations and casually offering a demonstration of his quirk to pique their interest. It rarely worked on the first attempt, but once he caught someone's attention, it tended to draw more onlookers.

Once he'd grabbed their attention, he'd entertain them by testing how the borrowed mutation altered his body, keeping their interest through his performance.

Part of his show was a stall tactic. Over the past few weeks since the change to his quirk, he had learned that after copying a mutation, he was forced to stay in that form for a short period before his quirk would let him switch back, copy another, or activate a different one.

So, while he waited, he danced, cracked jokes, and asked questions—anything to keep the crowd entertained and distract them from the fact that he was mostly wasting their time.

Occasionally, though, he'd hit a dud mutation that took forever to process and offered little in the way of entertainment. The current one was a bust, and he could sense the crowd's patience wearing thin.

"So… purple hair? Did I say that already?"

"Yes, you did. That's the third time," someone replied, unimpressed. "Is there anything else?"

"Uh, blue eyelashes? Wait, what color are my leg hairs now... Red?" Kaitsu cringed, feeling he was blowing it, he began cursing his quirk for working so slowly. "It's like a rainbow. What, are your... pubes green or something?"

The joke landed poorly, evident by the uncomfortable stares from the crowd, especially from the man whose mutation he'd copied. He regretted his words immediately.

"If you're trying to be rude, punk, do it straight up," the man said, stepping closer. He was shorter than Kaitsu but had a scar on his lip and a tattooed arm that screamed Yakuza.

"Oh, uh, I didn't mean to offend you," Kaitsu said, freaking out as he saw his audience thinning fast. He didn't want to have to restart all over again, and if he left a bad impression on too many regulars from Shibuya, his strategy would quickly lose speed.

"Yeah, I'm not buying it," the man sneered, getting in Kaitsu's face. "How about a proper apology instead of half-assing it because you're worried about your little act? This even legal? What happens if I call a hero, huh?"

The man stepped close, glaring up at him, and Kaitsu felt a chill. Besides not wanting to start a fight someone who seemed like bad news, Kaitsu didn't want to draw too much attention to himself and the man was making a commotion.

He scanned the areas of the crowd where local heroes were often walking around, cursing internally as he saw one walking towards them. If the hero asked what was happening, he'd risk having an incident filled under his name, ruining his chances to get into a hero school.

He needed a distraction.

Just then, all the screens around the square went black. The entire crowd, including the rainbow-haired man, and the approaching hero, looked up in confusion. Recognizing the opportunity his luck had provided him, he darted into the crowd, staying low to avoid being seen.

As he reached the far end of the square, he turned around, sighing in relief as he saw no one following him. His relief increased as he felt his quirk finally let go of the mutation, allowing him to slide it back onto one of his mental shelves, reverting to his normal appearance.

Just as he was about to turn to leave the square, the black screens suddenly lit up, energetic music beginning to build, drawing the attention of the crowd once more.

Kaitsu glanced up at the nearest screen, seeing that it was a livestream by UA High piqued his interest, but not nearly as much as the bold, massive text:

"FULL STRENGTH SPAR: ALL MIGHT VS ENDEAVOR, GANG ORCA, AND CRUST!"

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd, and Kaitsu felt his heart begin to race as a smile crept across his face. This was going to be good.

(AYOOOO! Is anyone out there?)

…

(Damn, this place is mega creepy. Freakin black mist gives me the heebie jeebies.)

…

(AAGH!? WHAT THE HELL! Hikage Sensei!?)

…

(You're not moving. Helloooo are you awake?)

…

(I guess not. Wait, is that little En?)

…

(Huh, I guess it is. You're a sleeping statue too, huh? Are the other holders around here?)

…

(Who is this? Damn, she's really muscular for a chick. Is she En's successor? He knows how to pick em.)

…

(Now THIS is interesting. This big guy's glowing, does that mean he's like, still alive? Or does he just look like that. It's intimidating, Baldy probably shit himself when you two fought.)

…

(Who's this pipsqueak?)

…

(AAGHH! It moved!)

…

(False alarm, but you're far more lifelike than the others.)

…

(I guess you're the current holder then? I don't know what big guy over there saw in you, you look a bit soft.)

…

(Maybe that's a sign that the world out there is better now. Man I'd love to see what the outside world is like now.)

…

(Ayo, why do I feel… so… sleeepyyy.)

Izuku groaned as he finally woke up, the bright light uncomfortable to his eyes. Soon after, as he moved, his face cringed as a jolt of light pain emanated from his right hand.

The groaning evidently alerted Recovery Girl to his presence as shortly after he opened his eyes she was beside him with a bottle of water. Beckoning him to sit up.

"Here, you were out for a while." She said, handing it to him.

"Thanks." Izuku said, taking it and gulping it down, surprised at how thirsty he was.

"The combination of your quirk and my quirk drained your body quite a bit. I suggest you eat well when you get home, get a lot of salts, drink a lot of water, some protein too. It'll help your body recover the resources it used to heal you."

Izuku nodded as he finished the bottle.

"What happened? I remember I was training; how did I end up here?" He asked, causing Recovery Girl to sigh and throw a glare to the other person I the room.

"Damn it, Sorahiko, you gave him a concusion." She spat, fishing something out of her coat pocket. "I told you that you didn't need to be so rough with him."

"Huh?" Izuku blinked, eyes flicking between the two. Stopping when Recovery Girl tapped his leg with her cane, and told him to hold his head still.

"Look into the light." She said, holding up a small flashlight to his eye. And he had to resist closing his eye as the light nearly blinded his eye as it turned on.

"I stopped things before they got worse. A mild concussion isn't nearly as bad as a permanent injury to his arm." The old man argued, confusing Izuku more.

"Permanent injury? What happened?" Flinching again as Recovery Girl moved to the other eye.

"Your quirk went berserk, tore up your hand. I had to heal you." She replied, and the words brought back images from his memory. She turned the light off, and stashed the flashlight back in her coat's pocket

"Oh… Oh. I remember now." He said, his eyebrows furrowing as one memory flooded into his mind after the other.

What were those shadows? The amount of emotion he felt in that moment felt a little overwhelming to him, even now. It was how he imagined he might feel if someone had killed his mother right in front of him. Repeatedly. While mocking him.

"See?" Gran Torino said addressed Recovery Girl as she walked away from Izuku and back to her desk. "It's such a small concussion, he's already recovered."

That proved to be an unwise comment, as it earned him a tap on the back of his head with Recovery Girl's cane.

"I still don't want you to do things like that. The brain is a very powerful and complicated organ. Broken bones and torn muscles my quirk handles well, lost neurons and broken synapses? Not so much."

In response, Gran Torino grumbled, before changing the subject to Izuku.

"So, kid. Let's talk about your training." He said, hoping of the chair he was sitting on and took his time as his small legs carried him closer to his pupil.

"Besides this…let's call it what it is, anomaly, we've been progressing well." the old man said, stopping next to his bed. Izuku could feel his mentor's scrutinizing gaze, softened by the hint of pride in his tone. "It took us a month, but now you can use your quirk on demand, even if your heart rate is perfectly calm. I'm a little disappointed that it seems that because it relies on anger to fuel it, it will always be weaker until your blood starts pumping. But I will take a win when we get one."

"What's next, then?" Izuku asked. "Should we focus on control now? I don't want to go wild like that again. So like, trying to reign the quirk in when I lose control?"

He didn't want to kill a bystander he was trying to save by grabbing them with enough force to crumple a metal plate. Training his quirk more also meant less physical training, and he much preferred relaxation over tears and vomit.

He was however surprised when Gran Torino shook his head. "We are going to leave that problem up to whoever your teacher at UA is. One for All is ridiculously powerful, if you had rampaged even a second longer you could have even collapsed part of the tower."

Izuku paled. "Then shouldn't I get it under control?"

"You should, but the emphasis will be on not losing control in the first place," Gran Torino replied. "We're going to start training your ability to use your quirk in stressful situations, such as combat."

"Really?" Izuku perked up.

"Yes, really." He replied, but suddenly flashed an evil grin. "And you'll be sparing against me, you little brat."

Izuku let out a humorous groan. "Is All Might even okay with this?" Then he paused, realizing something. "Actually, where is he? I was hoping to talk to him."

"UA." The old man spat. "The rat is planning a big overblown party to spoil and bedazzle his sponsors. Maybe even attract more. The meathead is supposed to be one of the main attractions."

"Heh?" Izuku asked, confused. "How is that supposed to work, is he giving a speech?"

"No idea, kid." The old man shrugged. "What did you want to talk to him about?"

Izuku shook his head with a smile, but then hesitated, the smile fading. "I just… wanted to talk to him. About a friend."

Gran Torino tilted his head, watching him closely. Shooting a quick sidewards glance at Recovery Girl, she seemed equally concerned. "Did they find out about your quirk? You know you can tell your friends, right? They'll figure it out soon enough once you're at UA."

"No, it's not that," Izuku assured him. "I do plan on telling them—just… not yet. My problem is something else."

He sighed, gathering his thoughts. "It's my best friend. He moved a while back, but we still talked all the time. Or, we did until about a month ago. He hasn't answered since, and… that's just not like him."

Gran Torino looked at him for a moment, silent, before letting out a quiet sigh. "I'll mention it to the big guy next time we talk; I'm sure he'd want to help. In the meantime, I need you to stay focused during training, understand?"

"Let us adults take care of the rest. Trust the system to do its job—we'll find out what's going on." Recovery Girl said, giving Izuku a grandmotherly smile.

Izuku nodded, grateful his worries were being taken seriously. "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

*BZZZZ*

Izuku's phone buzzed on the table next to the bed, drawing his attention. Leaning over to pick it up, his eyes went wide at the title. Before he began vibrating with excitement.

"What now kid? Got ants in your pants?" Gran Torino quipped, but Izuku's excitement was undeterred.

"No, but…" He held his phone screen up to Gran Torino, a massive smile beaming on his face. "I think I know what All Might is doing."