A Little Girl's Hero Academy

by Mark the Mark

Tanya's third life, and third try for peaceful retirement. Being X doesn't seem to be around, so why not try for the best general education course in Japan? Why is she taking the Hero course exam? Why can't she transfer out? What even is going on with her life? Being X!

7. A Young Girl's Rescue Training

AN: The end of an ARK oh wait. Arc. What story is this again?

Not Shadows of Rebirth? The better story I'm making? No? Well crap I had no idea I was still continueing this one.

Anyway, I have no idea what is going on with FF. I have all of these stories posted on Alpha Oh 3 and Space Battles. Read them there! or join my discord to read there!

its funny that just typeing out those three letters together is auto censored, yet they cant get my chapters to display properly for weeks.

5hwtG5CjsP

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A Young Girl's Rescue Training

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Tanya Yamada, Hero Student, 1-A Seat # 6

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The past few days blurred together in a haze of routine. Wake up, attend school, sit through standard academic subjects, endure another dull lunch break, then move on to hero lessons. These consisted mostly of watching outdated instructional videos while Aizawa sat half-asleep at his desk, or running exhausting drills under the ever-smiling oversight of All Might.

After school, I had two options—either retreat to the library and complete my assignments in silence or head to the gym and work off my lunch. At least physical exertion was a practical use of my time. Once a week, I attended the class representative meeting. Predictably, Midoriya was a competent leader—diligent, obsessive with note-taking, and surprisingly open to suggestions. Together, we planned breaks during the Sports Festival and drafted guidelines for students who were eliminated early, ensuring they weren't left to stew in disappointment without direction.

I wasn't alone in my routine. Kyoka and Toru were constant fixtures in my daily life, their presence becoming a background certainty—something I had grown accustomed to, despite my usual wariness of attachments. And yet, the realization nagged at me: I would miss them. A meaningless sentiment, considering my imminent transfer to General Studies. We could still talk, of course, but the Hero Course would consume most of their time. The probability of us gradually drifting apart was high.

Unless… No. I stopped the thought before it could form fully. I wasn't going to let myself be pulled into danger again. There was no reason to seek trouble when I could navigate life perfectly well as a civilian.

This morning, as the train carried me toward school, I scrolled through the Class 1-A group chat. It had started as a way for the girls to talk—Mina's doing, naturally—but I had expanded it to include the entire class for important announcements. Reminders about Sports Festival ticket sales, upcoming deadlines, or changes to training schedules were all stored in an easily accessible place. More often than not, however, the chat was cluttered with memes and jokes I didn't always understand. Midoriya had shown me how to mute the inane chatter while flagging the messages that mattered. A useful trick.

Today, the chat was filled with excitement over our upcoming trip to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint. Midoriya had asked if everyone was looking forward to it, and Bakugo had responded with his usual loud bravado. Uraraka admitted she was nervous but tried to stay optimistic. Iida, predictably, reminded everyone to be well-prepared, which Tsuyu punctuated with a simple ribbit.

Kirishima and Todoroki expressed eagerness to test their abilities, while Yaoyorozu saw it as an opportunity for self-improvement. Mineta voiced his nerves, but Kyoka reassured him that the class had each other's backs. Mina was excited about the facility itself, and Shoji reminded everyone to get enough rest. Tokoyami, as dramatic as ever, muttered something cryptic about the night granting us strength. Kaminari and Sero hyped each other up, and Toru made a lighthearted joke about how her Quirk might give her an advantage. Koji remained silent, while Sato offered to bring energy snacks. Aoyama, predictably, promised to "shine brighter than anyone" tomorrow.

Midoriya ended the chat with an encouraging message about Class 1-A's strength, followed by the necessary correction of Bakugo's childish nickname edits. Despite myself, I found a small flicker of interest—not in the training itself, but in the facility. A marvel of modern design, the USJ was a testament to what meticulous planning and an overabundance of government funding could achieve. Seeing it in person would be… interesting.

I arrived in class before most of my peers, as usual. Unlike every other morning, however, our hero costume cases were already sitting on our desks, and—most shockingly—Aizawa was awake. Before I could comment, he addressed me in his usual tired but firm voice.

"Good morning, Yamada. Sit down and wait for the rest of the class."

Not wanting to push my luck, I obeyed.

As my classmates trickled in, they reacted with mild surprise to Aizawa's uncharacteristic wakefulness. Once everyone had arrived—an impressive ten minutes before the official start of class—he wasted no time.

"Today, we're going on a trip to the USJ. Drop your essays on my desk, take your uniform cases, and follow me."

Efficient. I appreciated that.

The back entrance of the school led us to a row of unmarked buses. Standard protocol for minimizing attention. They looked no different from public transportation, likely an intentional choice to avoid drawing unnecessary scrutiny.

"Store your cases or hold onto them; I don't care," Aizawa continued. "Midoriya, Yamada, make sure everyone boards within ten minutes. The driver will take you to the USJ."

And with that, he walked off, clearly eager to reclaim his lost sleep.

Inside, the bus was designed more like a subway car than a typical school bus—seats lined the walls, leaving an open center space. The driver… was a robot. A robot wearing a tiny top hat.

Right. Of course. U.A. and its bizarre allocation of funds.

After a few moments, the robotic driver sparked slightly before speaking in a garbled mix of Spanish and English.

"Por favor manténgase sentado, con los brazos, manos, pies y piernas dentro del—ZZZZ Please stay seated, with arms, hands, feet, and legs inside the vehicle. Please stand clear of the door, and the ride will begin shortly."

…That didn't seem reassuring.

"Did they skip a maintenance check?" I muttered under my breath, keeping a wary eye on the machine.

The bus took off before everyone had even settled. Despite the concerning sparks, it obeyed all traffic laws. My classmates, unbothered by the obvious safety hazard, chattered excitedly about the upcoming training. I half-listened, keeping my gaze forward.

Upon arrival, the USJ was just as impressive as I had imagined—a vast, circular facility with distinct simulated disaster zones. Waiting for us were two instructors: Thirteen, the space-suited hero with the Black Hole Quirk, and All Might, the so-called Symbol of Peace.

Thirteen's suit made her resemble a marshmallow, but I knew better than to judge based on appearances. She had been instrumental in convincing hero agencies to fund the USJ, pushing for a space where rescue-focused heroes could train under realistic disaster conditions. A rare display of foresight within the hero industry.

She raised a gloved hand, commanding attention with a practiced ease.

"Good morning, heroes-in-training! Before we begin, I have a few important things to say."

She paused, then corrected herself. "Wait, three things—no, four things."

She paused, then continued. "The first few weeks of the hero course test your Quirk limits and control. The entrance exam tested raw power. The apprehension test checked creativity. Combat training showed how dangerous your Quirks can be. And now, this exercise will teach you to use them for rescue, not just fighting."

She lifted her gloved hands, showing metal caps on each fingertip. "My Quirk is great for clearing rubble and making space, but it doesn't discriminate. If I'm not careful, I could destroy anything—or anyone—in my way. Every Quirk has risks, even the ones that seem harmless. Here, you'll learn how to control them to save lives."

Excitement spread through the class. Today wasn't about showing off—it was about proving we had what it took to be heroes.

This wasn't a test of strength. It was a test of control.

And control was something I excelled at.

The heavy doors of the USJ slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing the vast facility within. I stepped forward with the others, eyes sweeping over the sheer scale of the simulated disaster environment ahead.

The design was impeccable. A circular layout branched out into various zones, each constructed to replicate different large-scale disaster scenarios. At the center of the main entrance, a large fountain stood untouched—a strange juxtaposition of order amid the chaos it surrounded. Beyond it, the various training environments stretched into the distance, blending seamlessly into each other. Urban destruction, mountainous terrain, flood zones, landslides—every type of natural and manmade catastrophe had been meticulously recreated.

All Might strode beside us, radiating confidence with every step. He didn't have to say much for his presence alone to lift the mood, his mere existence serving as a reminder of why everyone here wanted to be a hero. The class walked taller, their excitement tangible, feeding off his energy like plants reaching for sunlight.

It was masterfully done. A strategic morale boost, whether he intended it that way or not.

Thirteen took the lead, guiding us through a side hall to a changing room where our costumes were waiting. I took my time securing each piece, adjusting the fit to ensure nothing was loose or out of place. Functionality over aesthetics—I had made that clear when designing it. Once everyone was dressed, we reconvened and were led into what looked like a destroyed city block. The moment the doors slid open, the atmosphere shifted.

Smoke clung to the air, thick and acrid. Sirens blared in the distance, their echoes bouncing off cracked pavement and twisted metal. Broken glass crunched beneath my boots. Collapsed buildings leaned against each other precariously, entire streets transformed into war zones of toppled infrastructure. The level of detail was unnerving—this wasn't just a set. It was a manufactured disaster frozen in time.

Thirteen's voice carried over the scene. "Most of you have seen hero battles on TV or in the news," she began, her tone calm yet firm. "But what you don't often see is the aftermath. The destruction left behind rarely makes headlines. Today, you'll experience what that actually means." She gestured toward the simulated ruins. "This particular scenario is based on a real event—a battle All Might fought in Los Angeles early in his career."

There was an audible shift in the class. Interest. Curiosity. And in Midoriya's case, something bordering on reverence. His hands twitched at his sides, eyes practically glowing with anticipation.

All Might took over the explanation, stepping forward with an easy confidence. "Welcome to the City of Angels!" His voice boomed, effortlessly commanding attention. "This fight was against two villains, both highly dangerous in their own right. One had the ability to generate and fire military-grade weapons from his body—very similar to Yaoyorozu's ability to create objects from lipids."

Yaoyorozu stiffened slightly at the comparison.

All Might continued, lifting a single finger for emphasis. "But unlike you, Young Yaoyorozu, this villain had formal training. A doctorate in nuclear physics, to be precise. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he didn't care about collateral damage." His expression hardened. "Not all villains are desperate or misguided. Some simply enjoy destruction."

That got the class's attention. The shift in their body language was immediate—small things, like the way Shoji's shoulders tensed, or how Sero stopped fiddling with his gloves.

"The second villain was a mutant-type with a shark-based Quirk and multiple arms. Strong, fast, and adaptable to both land and sea combat. And the Pacific Ocean was right there." All Might's eyes narrowed. "Had they reached the water, we wouldn't have caught them."

Thirteen activated a projector, displaying old footage of the battle. At first, the city in the video appeared normal—bustling streets, a bright California skyline—but then, chaos erupted.

"Los Angeles sits in a basin in Southern California," All Might narrated. "To the west, you have the Pacific Ocean. Various rivers cut through the city, which made this robbery a nightmare to contain."

On-screen, the shark villain crashed through multiple cars, tossing them aside like they were weightless. He was huge, his body stretching across five lanes of traffic.

"This guy? He wasn't just a villain—he was their escape vehicle." All Might gestured to the monstrous figure. "He had a six-story wingspan and could glide short distances. Almost like something out of King Kong."

"Sir?" Iida raised a hand, always the first to seek clarification.

"Yes, Young Iida."

"So the rocket villain—he was firing indiscriminately?"

"Precisely. He had some control, but his primary strategy was overwhelming force. Heat-seeking missiles, phosphorus shells—he had no concern for civilian casualties. His only goal was escape."

Thirteen took over again, her voice measured but firm. "By the time they were stopped, four city blocks had been rendered uninhabitable. The rocket villain's explosives took down multiple buildings, and the phosphorus caused burns, breathing issues, and severe allergic reactions. The sheer destruction displaced hundreds of people."

The footage showed crumbling skyscrapers, civilians trapped beneath debris, emergency responders struggling to contain the damage.

"Your mission today," Thirteen stated, "is to rescue as many civilians as possible. You will be placed in teams, each assigned to a different section of the disaster zone. Your goal is not to fight, but to save lives."

The weight of the words settled over the class. This wasn't a battle, not in the way they were used to. There was no 'winning' in the traditional sense—only damage control.

"All Might and I will be observing, offering guidance and feedback. We don't expect perfection. We expect effort."

There were nods of understanding all around.

All Might and Thirteen would be observing, offering advice and critiques, but for all intents and purposes, this exercise was ours to handle. That meant our success—or failure—would depend on how well we worked together.

My team consisted of Kirishima, Mineta, and Bakugo. The moment teams were announced, Kirishima grinned, cracking his knuckles in excitement. "Alright! Let's do this!" Bakugo scoffed but rolled his shoulders, eyes already flicking across the ruins as if assessing what he could blow up first.

While Kirishima and Bakugo were busy hyping themselves up, Mineta seemed to be attempting to shrink into himself, arms hugging his chest as he eyed the simulated disaster zone like it was about to personally attack him. His costume—a fitted purple-and-white ensemble with yellow accents—looked more suited for a commercial mascot than a hero.

I narrowed my eyes at the color choice. "Why yellow?"

Mineta blinked at me, startled by the sudden attention. "Uh, it's non-stick," he muttered, tapping his head. To demonstrate, he wiped his scarf across his scalp, letting it glide off without resistance. "Stops my Quirk from sticking to me."

Logical. I nodded. "So it also signals to your teammates what won't adhere. Efficient."

Mineta visibly hesitated, as if he hadn't expected any kind of validation. Then, his confidence rebounded, and he struck an exaggerated pose. "Like what you see?"

I stared at him.

A single bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face as the silence stretched. His pose faltered.

"...It's a JoJo reference," he mumbled, deflating.

Instead of acknowledging his loss, he decided—for some reason—to double down. "You know, Tanya, I've noticed you staring at me in class."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah! I catch you looking at me all the time!" His chest puffed up, smugness creeping into his expression. "If you've got a crush, you can just say so. I don't blame you—there's a lot to admire!"

I frowned slightly, tilting my head. "Oh. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable."

Mineta's smirk widened, undoubtedly misinterpreting my words as some kind of confession.

"I was just curious about your Quirk," I clarified.

The smirk froze.

"Oh?" His voice had noticeably lost its confidence.

"Yes. Do your spheres secrete any kind of juice?"

Mineta audibly choked. "Wait, what?"

"Like, if someone were to twist or squeeze them while they were still attached, what would happen? Do they pop off immediately, or is there resistance? Does it hurt?"

Mineta's expression was difficult to describe—something between horrified and profoundly regretting every decision that led to this moment.

"I, uh—"

"Also, what's the average regeneration rate? Do they grow back evenly, or do some spots sprout faster than others?"

He rubbed his arms, clearly wishing he could teleport away. "I-I'll answer those later."

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice for what I thought was an important follow-up. "Have you ever tried eating one?"

Mineta made a noise that was not human.

"WHY WOULD I DO THAT?!" he yelped, stumbling back.

At this point, Kirishima had lost it, doubling over in laughter. Even Bakugo smirked, shaking his head in amusement.

Mineta, rather than retreat, scanned the room for an escape route. His eyes landed on Yaoyorozu, and his expression shifted slightly as he took in her hero costume.

I frowned. That was unproductive. "If you want to talk to her, you can just message her after class," I suggested, keeping my tone neutral. "No need to sit here staring at her like a lost puppy."

Mineta turned to me, looking strangely offended. "Wait. Are you jealous or something?"

I exhaled. "Hardly. I just think you might actually stand a chance if you stopped acting like a creep for five seconds."

The advice seemed to physically stun him.

Before he could recover, I caught movement from the corner of my eye. Mina had locked onto him from across the room, her expression unreadable. Slowly, she pointed at her eyes, then at him.

Mineta paled, then scrambled to catch up with the group.

Good. Maybe now he'd focus.

The distant call of "Start!" rang through the USJ, and we sprinted into the wreckage.

Throughout the exercise, Thirteen and All Might observed our actions through various cameras, offering feedback and praise where it was due.

Instead of scattering, I directed our group into a more organized strike team—though, in reality, it was more about following the explosive force that was Bakugo while issuing commands to Red Riot and Grape Juice in response to his actions.

My focus was on listening to the shifting rubble, the mechanical whirs of downed robots, and the crackling static of still-active circuits buried beneath collapsed structures. I guided Dynamight toward the areas where these sounds were strongest, instructing him to control his blasts so that they wouldn't destabilize what remained of the terrain. Grape Juice followed behind, throwing his quirk onto anything that looked like it might collapse further. Red Riot, our muscle, took point in clearing away heavier debris. With the assistance of my quirk, my songs keeping them moving and enhancing their strength in small bursts, we methodically extracted the simulated victims trapped beneath the wreckage.

Minutes blurred into an hour, and our pace remained steady—until it didn't.

Even with my support, I could hear the subtle shifts in their breathing, feel the slight delays in their movements. Kirishima's strength was still there, but the weight of the debris took just a second longer for him to lift. Dynamight's explosions, once precise and controlled, had become slightly erratic. Mineta, trailing behind, had gone from sluggish to near stumbling.

Red Riot struggled with a metal bar obstructing our path. Before Bakugo could react, I grabbed his wrist before he could set off another explosion.

"Alright—"

His head snapped toward me, teeth clenched, barely restraining a growl.

I tightened my hold on his arm. "We need to slow down."

The muscle in his jaw twitched.

"FINE! THIRTY SECONDS!"

He ripped his arm free and stalked toward a nearby wall, leaning against it with his arms crossed, scowling like the frustrated teenager he was.

Kirishima hesitated before sitting down with a sigh, rolling out his shoulders. Mineta, however, didn't even try to play it off—he just collapsed onto the ground, his sweat soaking into his already damp uniform.

I unscrewed the cap on my canteen and poured the cool water down my throat, the chill soothing the raw burn of my voice box. I turned to Mineta to offer him some water, but I noticed something strange.

His quirk caused the round orbs on his head to regrow rapidly, but now… blood was starting to seep between them. He drank water from the canteen I handed him greedily as I stared at his bleeding scalp.

Before I could comment on it, Bakugo's voice cut through the room.

"THIRTY! GET UP!"

Thirteen's voice crackled over the radio almost immediately, her tone even but firm. "Hero Team Two, halt what you're doing."

We froze. Bakugo, mid-motion for another explosion, growled in frustration. Kirishima straightened, rolling his shoulders like he was preparing to argue. Mineta, still slumped against the debris, looked like he was about five seconds from keeling over.

"What now?" Bakugo snapped, shooting a glare at the nearest camera as if he could intimidate the Pro on the other end.

Thirteen remained unfazed. "Who is assigned as team lead?"

Kirishima and Bakugo immediately shouted over each other—

"I am!"

"No, dumbass, I am!"

They whipped around to face one another, eyes sparking with irritation.

I sighed. "We didn't actually assign one," I admitted, rubbing my temple.

A brief silence followed before Thirteen spoke again. "That's what I thought. Out of the four of you, the one demonstrating the most leadership at this moment is Echo."

I heard Bakugo's teeth grind together.

"What?!"

Thirteen either didn't hear him or didn't care. "Recognizing when to stop and rest is just as important as pushing forward. You all need to understand your physical limits. In real rescue work, teams operate in shifts. You don't keep going until you drop—because if you do, you become another casualty."

I nodded, understanding immediately. Soldiers didn't just charge headfirst into battle and fight until they collapsed. Logistics, rotations, pacing—it all mattered. If someone pushed too far, they became dead weight.

Predictably, Kirishima and Bakugo weren't satisfied with that explanation.

"We can keep going!" Kirishima insisted.

"I ain't weak like these extras!" Bakugo added, voice sharp.

Thirteen didn't miss a beat. "Putting down your teammates for their limitations doesn't make you a leader. Even if you have the strength to continue, what happens when you need someone else to hold up a collapsing wall? What if you don't have the skills to save an injured civilian while keeping an unstable structure from caving in? Rescue is a team effort. If you want to keep saving people, you need to recognize that you can't do it alone."

Bakugo scoffed but didn't argue further. Kirishima still looked reluctant but seemed to be mulling over the words.

Mineta, though, hadn't moved. "Your head's bleeding, why?" I pointed out bluntly, asking the question I wanted to ask earlier.

He flinched slightly, muttering, "Yeah… happens when I overdo it."

"Then why didn't you tell us earlier?"

He blinked at me. "What do you mean?"

"If you're going to be useful in a team, you need to communicate," I said, crossing my arms. "You should've let us know that using your quirk too much causes damage. We could've adjusted our pace or let you work more defensively."

Mineta hesitated, his hands clenching against his arms. "Why do you even care?"

I raised a brow. "Because your quirk is actually better suited for rescue than mine."

He looked up, confusion flickering in his expression. "What?"

I exhaled. "Your quirk can create physical barriers, reinforce weak structures, and stabilize unstable debris. That's practical. My quirk? All it does is make people feel stronger. It's flashy but not actually helpful in a real rescue scenario."

Mineta opened his mouth, then closed it. His brows furrowed, clearly caught off guard. "But… you actually saved people back there."

"With a team," I corrected. "If I was alone? I wouldn't have been able to do half of what we did. Meanwhile, your quirk lets you control the environment. If you weren't running on empty, you'd be one of the most useful people here."

He looked away, rubbing his arm awkwardly. "I mean… yeah, I guess when you put it like that…"

I sighed. "You're not useless, Mineta. But if you don't start telling people what you can't do, you're going to make yourself into dead weight."

He was quiet for a long moment, then muttered, "Yeah. I get it."

Kirishima, who had been listening in, grinned and clapped him on the back. "See? You're more useful than you think, man! Just gotta work on that stamina, right?"

Mineta let out a breath, still looking a little flustered but nodding. "Right."

Thirteen's voice crackled back to life. "Your next assignment is water rescue. The flood zone presents entirely different challenges—communication is harder, footing is unpredictable, and if you don't pace yourselves, you'll burn out faster than you did here. Recovery Girl and her assistants are waiting at the staging area. Rehydrate and get checked over before proceeding. That's an order."

Bakugo, still clearly irritated, stomped off ahead. Kirishima followed after him, tossing a grin over his shoulder. "C'mon, guys, let's go."

I moved to follow but glanced back at Mineta one last time.

"…You good?" I asked.

He hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Yeah."

I nodded in return, then turned and walked toward the flood zone.

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[h4]Kyoka Jiro, Hero Student, 1-A Seat #12[/h4]

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We arrived at the flood zone after the search-and-rescue drill, and I was already feeling it. My earjacks were sore from lifting debris earlier, and the ache was a dull reminder of how much strain I had put on them. Thirteen gathered us again, explaining the objective: navigate a massive simulated flood, retrieve 'victims'—mannequins placed throughout the zone—and handle the unpredictability of water rescues. Strong currents, submerged obstacles, and unexpected hazards were all part of the challenge. It wasn't just about swimming; it was about coordination, problem-solving, and smart Quirk use in an environment that could turn deadly fast.

Taking off my jacket, I carefully placed it on top of my electronics, making a mental note to seriously ask for waterproof gear in the future. The idea of short-circuiting my own equipment mid-rescue was not a fun thought.

Looking around, I took in the massive pool ahead. It wasn't some controlled, even-depth swimming pool—it had varying depths, artificial currents, and murky areas to simulate real-life disasters. The deeper sections looked like they could swallow you whole.

A nervous pit settled in my stomach.

It had been a long time since I went swimming.

I shifted my focus, noticing how some of the class gravitated toward Yaoyorozu, who was efficiently creating some kind of tent—probably a triage station. Tanya stood nearby, directing people like she was born for it. I caught a glimpse of All Might, standing off to the side with an approving smile, watching everyone fall into their roles.

I realized I had been staring when I heard a loud splash behind me. Shaking my head, I turned back and took a deep breath before stepping off the edge into the water.

The cold wrapped around me instantly, sending a shock through my system. For a second, all I could hear was the sound of water rushing past my ears as I sank beneath the surface.

Then I kicked up, breaking through with a deep inhale, blinking against the glare from the overhead lights.

"Alright, listen up," Thirteen's voice echoed across the pool, steady but firm. "Communication and coordination are essential. Keep an eye on each other, and prioritize the victims' safety."

A distant buzz rang out, followed immediately by All Might's booming voice.

"Start!"

The pool erupted into motion.

My classmates fanned out, some diving straight into the deeper sections, others carefully navigating the shallower areas. I took a breath and pushed forward, swimming as fast as I could.

My Quirk was next to useless for something like this. Soundwaves didn't travel the same way underwater, and my earjacks couldn't pick up vibrations clearly through the liquid. Which meant I was working off pure instinct and my own two eyes.

Ducking beneath the surface, I opened my eyes against the sting of chlorinated water and scanned my surroundings. The visibility wasn't great, but there—movement.

A mannequin was wedged between two submerged structures, its 'arm' barely visible between them.

I propelled myself forward, kicking hard and reaching out. My earjacks whipped forward, wrapping around the mannequin's arms so I could get a better grip. The added weight made movement sluggish, but I powered through, kicking off the bottom and hauling the 'victim' toward the surface.

Breaking through the water, I gasped for air and called out, "Got one!"

I wiped my eyes, scanning for the triage station. Thirteen stood near the shore, monitoring everything, while Koda waited nervously for the incoming 'victims.'

I swam over and handed off the mannequin, Koda taking it with a sheepish nod.

"Good work!" Thirteen called.

I turned back toward the water.

One down.

More to go.

I settled into a rhythm, focusing on spots no one had reached yet. Some of the stronger swimmers, like Asui and Yaoyorozu, were handling the deeper currents, so I stayed near the mid-range zones, avoiding the powerful water flows I definitely didn't trust myself to get out of.

The water wasn't my element—but I wasn't about to let that stop me.

At first, the water was manageable. My swimming wasn't anything special, but I could keep up—until the currents shifted.

One moment, I was making decent progress. The next, a sudden surge of water nearly knocked me off balance. The waves churned with unpredictable force, dragging some of my classmates off course. I barely caught myself against the pool's edge, gripping the tiles tightly as I lifted myself out of the water to regain my bearings.

From my new vantage point, I scanned the pool, watching the others struggle against the shifting currents. Some were doing fine—like Tsuyu, who practically looked at home in the chaos, smiling as she kicked effortlessly through the water.

Well. No harm, no foul.

Then—

"Kyoka, over here!"

I turned at the sound of Toru's voice, only to blink when I realized something. Where were her clothes?

"Toru! Where are your—"

Before I could finish the thought, I noticed the violent splashing around her transparent outline. I barely had time to process the fact that she was—ahem—completely unburdened by fabric before I saw what she was struggling with.

A mannequin, caught in one of the new turbulent sections of the pool, bobbed just out of her reach. She was kicking hard to stay afloat but was clearly having trouble.

Shoving everything else aside, I dove back in, cutting through the water as fast as I could. My earphone jacks extended instinctively, wrapping around Toru's arms to help stabilize her while I grabbed hold of the mannequin. Together, we managed to pull the 'victim' free from the current, guiding it toward the triage station at the edge of the pool.

Once we reached the shallows, I pushed my dripping bangs out of my face and exhaled. "So…" I trailed off, my gaze flicking toward Toru's very, very visible waterfall effect.

She shrugged, completely unbothered. "It's not like anyone is seeing anything, and my costume is filled to the brim with electronics."

Fair enough.

Still didn't help that the way the water cascaded down her—

Nope. Abort. Abort.

I dunked my head back under the cold water and swam away.

Later, as I pulled myself back onto the pool's edge, shaking off excess water, my eyes landed on something unfortunate.

Toru's still-dripping silhouette.

And a certain purple midget practically frothing at the mouth as he stared.

I was about to stomp over and give Mineta a piece of my mind when Momo suddenly swooped in, wrapping a thick towel around Toru and shielding her from view.

Before I could add to the verbal beatdown I was mentally preparing, Tanya's voice cut through the moment with the sharpness of someone issuing a command.

"Alright, Mineta, focus on the job."

The boy flinched so hard he nearly tripped over his own feet, eyes finally snapping away from Toru.

Tanya stood next to him, arms crossed, radiating the same no-nonsense energy she always did when giving orders. "I understand you can't swim in your costume, but here's where you can help. Your quirk can reel in people from afar and pull debris out of the water, making it safer for everyone else."

Mineta blinked at her. "So… you want me… to fish?"

"Yes," Tanya replied immediately, handing him a rope. "Your quirk is really versatile. Stuff like this could make you a top-tier hero."

I narrowed my eyes slightly at the way she phrased that. Top-tier was pushing it, but… she wasn't wrong. His quirk had some serious applications in rescue scenarios.

Mineta glanced between her and the rope, then sighed, pulling a few of his sticky orbs off his head and attaching them. "I don't know how far I can toss it, and it's not exactly precise, but I'll try…"

With a small grunt, he swung the line out over the water, reeling in a piece of floating debris with surprising ease.

I blinked. Huh. Maybe he isn't completely useless after all.

Still a perv, though.

The exercise continued, each new scenario pushing us further. A simulated boat capsizing, mannequins tangled beneath weighted ropes, an underwater entrapment. Every challenge forced us to rely on each other more. The hours passed, exhaustion creeping into our movements despite our best efforts.

And then—

"Halfway done!"

All Might's voice rang out across the flood zone.

Halfway?!

The groan that rippled through the group was almost palpable. My arms felt like lead, my lungs were burning, and I wasn't sure how much more I could—

Music.

At first, I thought I was imagining it. A strange, rhythmic beat in the distance.

Then I realized it wasn't just me.

Everyone around me started to react. The exhaustion that had been pressing down like a weight suddenly lifted. My heart pounded faster, my limbs felt lighter.

I knew this sensation.

Tanya.

Smiling, I stretched my earjacks above the water, trying to catch more of the melody.

She was singing.

At first, I couldn't tell what it was—All Might was also singing, though it sounded like he was mostly just shouting his own name repeatedly—but as the songs changed, I recognized the beats.

Some cartoon openings. The HPSC anthem (which had to be a joke). More high-energy, fast-paced tracks that kept everyone moving.

It was like a drug, surging through the water like an electric current.

With renewed energy, I dove back in, pushing through the fatigue as I reached for the next mannequin.

By the time the exercise finally ended, my body was done. Muscles aching, joints stiff—but damn if I didn't feel good.

As I pulled myself out of the water one last time, I spotted Tanya sitting on a small stool next to a set of speakers that definitely hadn't been there before.

I let out a breathless chuckle.

Figures.

I shot Tanya a thumbs-up, and her sharp eyes flicked over to me. She gave the barest hint of a smile—so subtle that if I hadn't been paying attention, I might have missed it—before she unscrewed her canteen and took a sip of water. Typical Tanya.

The rest of the class gathered around the cluster of mannequins we had rescued, some slumping onto whatever chairs they could claim. The ones who had barely been in the water looked a little too comfortable, while those of us who had been swimming for the better part of the exercise were left stretching out our aching limbs.

"Good work, everyone!" Thirteen's voice rang out from a raised platform, her tone filled with warmth and encouragement. "I commend you all for your diligence and see great potential for a few future rescue heroes in this group! If you're seriously interested in pursuing rescue work, come see me. And for those of you who should consider it but might not realize your own potential, expect a letter of recommendation to continue your training."

Uraraka, practically vibrating in place, was already getting ready to bolt toward Thirteen the second we were dismissed.

Then All Might stepped forward, and just like that, the air changed.

"You students have shown incredible dedication today," his voice crashed over us like a tidal wave. "As you rise in your heroic careers, always remember the moments that shape you. The lives you save will not always be the ones celebrated on TV. The cameras may capture the highlights, but true hero work—the rescues, the moments of selflessness that go unseen—those are the ones that truly matter."

I swallowed, his words hitting deeper than expected. Hero work wasn't just about the flashy battles or the moments that made the front page. It was about everything else, too. The rescues that went unnoticed. The people who would never even know how close they came to disaster.

Thirteen chimed in, her tone more serious than usual. "He's right. Rescue heroes save thousands of lives a year, but the public will only ever hear about a handful of them. If you're in this for recognition, you won't last long. And you need to accept something else—you won't always be able to save everyone."

"That's bullshit!" Bakugo snapped.

Thirteen didn't flinch. "No, that's reality," she said, her voice unwavering. "Sometimes, despite your best efforts, people will die. Your teammates may die. You may go into a mission with a full team and come back as the only one left. If you don't recognize that now, it will break you later."

Her words landed like a punch to the gut.

All Might's gaze settled on Bakugo and Kirishima. "Team Yamada, how many robots did you rescue during the first activity?"

Mineta, surprisingly quick on the draw, squeaked out, "Twenty-five, sir."

All Might nodded. "Impressive. Thirteen, how many robots were left behind in their section?"

Thirteen scanned the group. "Thirty."

Kirishima jolted, eyes wide. "What!?"

"This is in comparison to Team Jiro," Thirteen continued, "who saved forty, missing only fifteen. Every team had fifty-five robot victims in their section. Team Jiro was the MVP of the first zone. Team Asui performed best in the second, and Team Todoroki in the third. None of you rescued everyone, but you were never expected to."

"Then what the hell was the point of the exercise?!" Bakugo shouted, frustration seeping into his voice. Sparks crackled in his palms as he tried to process the lesson, his rage barely contained.

Tanya, ever the composed one, was already anticipating the outburst. "The point was to test our physical limits in a rescue situation," she said calmly. "We learned team building, the importance of pacing ourselves, and—"

"All Might never needed any extras to save people!" Bakugo cut in, his voice raw.

All Might's expression softened. "That's where you're wrong."

The shift in his tone made the entire class go quiet.

"I may be the Number One Hero, but I am not infallible," he said, his voice quieter, but no less powerful. "I cannot be everywhere at once. I do get tired. I never wanted my achievements to create this illusion—that I am some hero above all heroes, an unstoppable god among men. That was never the reality."

His words carried the weight of experience, of regrets we couldn't yet understand.

He swept his gaze over us, his presence commanding as ever. "I am human—just like you. And one day, my time as a hero will come to an end. In your lifetime, I will hang up my cape. And when that happens, one of you will take up the mantle."

My heart skipped a beat.

I wasn't the only one who noticed it.

Tanya's head had turned toward Midoriya, and for a moment—just a split second—I saw something shift in her expression.

I wasn't sure what it was, but the weight of it lingered in my mind.

All Might wasn't done.

"It is my dream to see more female heroes rise, to see hardworking duos flourish, to witness heroes who thrive with support gear. I want to see a return to heroism that is not driven by fame or status, but by the genuine desire to protect and save others."

His words resonated, stirring something deep in my chest.

Then, as if switching gears entirely, he grinned his trademark, blindingly bright smile and pointed toward the exit. "Now! The faster you all get to the bus, the sooner you can fuel your bodies and continue your journey toward becoming those heroes!"

The class blinked.

And then, as if suddenly realizing how hungry we were, chaos erupted.

Chairs scraped against the floor as people practically launched themselves toward the changing rooms. A few students tripped over their own feet in their rush to get moving. Uraraka, who had been bouncing in her seat earlier, vanished in a blur of pink energy as she zero-gravity-ed herself toward the exit.

I let out a breath, shaking my head with a tired smile.

All Might knew exactly how to control a crowd.

As the students sprinted toward the promise of food, I stole one last glance at Tanya.

She hadn't moved yet.

She was still sitting on that stool next to those suspiciously not-there-earlier speakers, her expression unreadable.

I didn't know what was running through her head, but something about All Might's words had gotten to her.

Still, she wasn't the type to talk about it.

So instead of saying anything, I just gave her one more nod before following the others.

Even heroes needed to eat, after all.

The sun was blinding as we stepped out of the USJ, the exhaustion of the day settling into our limbs like lead. The simulations had drained me, but there was still a buzz of satisfaction in the air as we gathered near the entrance.

"Again, great job, Class 1-A," Thirteen said, pride clear in her voice. "You handled the disaster scenarios with commendable teamwork and efficiency."

I glanced around at my classmates. Some were beaming—especially Uraraka, who was practically vibrating in her seat from the praise—while others, like Bakugo, were scowling as if teamwork was some sort of personal insult.

All Might stepped forward, his presence alone making it feel like we'd won something. "Indeed! You all exhibited remarkable growth and potential. Your dedication to saving lives is truly inspiring!"

"Thank you, Thirteen!" Uraraka beamed. "It means a lot coming from you and All Might!"

Midoriya, standing nearby, nodded so hard I thought he might snap his own neck. "I won't let you down, All Might! We'll continue to give it our all!"

Thirteen's visor swept across the group. "Remember, heroes are not just defined by their Quirks, but by their character and their ability to protect and inspire. Keep that in mind as you continue your training."

Kirishima clenched his fist. "We won't let you down, Thirteen! We'll become heroes that people can rely on!"

All Might nodded approvingly. "We have no doubt about that, young Kirishima. Each of you possesses the potential to become extraordinary heroes. Just remember to stay true to yourselves and never lose sight of what it means to be a symbol of hope."

Tanya stepped forward, her voice raspy from overuse but steady as ever. "Thank you, All Might, and thank you, Thirteen. Your guidance and belief in us means the world."

I wasn't sure how much of that was just Tanya playing the part of the model student, but there was something in her voice—something genuine.

Thirteen nodded. "You're welcome, Yamada. Remember, heroes aren't born overnight. It takes dedication, hard work, and a genuine desire to help others. Keep pushing yourselves, and you'll continue to grow."

With that, Thirteen and All Might bid us farewell, watching from the doors of the USJ as we boarded the bus.

Everything that had happened today ran through my head, and I could only sum it up with one thought:

Today totally rocks.

I was so distracted, thinking about the exercises and the sweet, sweet promise of food, that I completely missed the fact that Aizawa was sitting at the back of the bus until we were halfway inside.

His presence had all of us pausing in shock. We'd expected to be left alone with the Robot, but Aizawa just grunted, rubbing at his eyes like he really didn't want to be here.

"Maintenance issue," he mumbled. "Wake me up if you need anything."

Conversations picked up, but not nearly as loud as they had been in the morning. The exhaustion was hitting everyone. A yawn slipped out of me before I could stop it, and I slumped against my seat, the vibrations of the moving bus lulling me further.

It wouldn't hurt to get some shut-eye before we got back to our classroom… at least, if Aizawa didn't have anything to say about it.

As if reading my mind, Tanya cleared her throat, her voice slightly hoarse. "Everyone, I've been informed that there was a villainous attack on our route back to U.A., so we'll be taking a longer route. There's enough time for a nap if you want."

There was a collective murmur of acknowledgment as most of the class leaned back in their seats. A few students pulled out their phones, searching for information on the attack, but I wasn't one of them. Instead, I tugged my headset down over my eyes and let sleep take me.

---

[h4]Tanya Yamada, Hero Student, 1-A Seat # 6[/h4]

---

Today was exhausting.

At least I had Lunch Rush's food to look forward to.

The bus rumbled beneath me, the steady vibration threatening to lull me into something resembling relaxation. Around me, the rest of the class had mostly settled into a state of exhaustion, their earlier chatter dulled to quiet murmurs. Even Bakugo had finally shut up, slumped against his seat with his arms crossed and a perpetual scowl still etched into his face.

Recalling how long the trip back had taken this morning, I started mentally counting down the minutes. That was, until I heard the distinct buzz of a notification. Aizawa groaned, shifting slightly in his seat as he pulled his phone out with all the enthusiasm of a man who deeply regretted checking his messages. He barely glanced at the screen before shutting it off and sinking deeper into his seat, rubbing at his temples.

A second later, my own phone vibrated.

I glanced down. Forwarded Message from Principal Nedzu—sent from Aizawa.

Villain attack on the road; the route has been updated; see you in two hours.

I exhaled sharply through my nose. Two hours? That was going to cut into my precious food window. No Katsudon fresh from the kitchen. No guaranteed takoyaki before it got picked over.

I considered announcing it to the others but, after a quick glance around at my half-dozing classmates, I decided to keep it simple.

"We're taking a longer route back," I said, loud enough for the bus to hear. "Villain attack on our usual path. You might as well get some sleep."

There were a few groans of annoyance—Sero cursed under his breath about missing lunch—but no one had the energy to complain much. Slowly, conversations died down, some students pulling out their phones while others adjusted themselves for a quick nap.

I let my gaze sweep across the bus, noting where my friends were. Kyoka was slouched near the back, her earjacks occasionally twitching, either from the conversations around her or an attempt to tune them out entirely. Toru was talking animatedly with Mina, her transparent hands waving through the air.

I turned toward the window, watching the scenery blur past in streaks of green and gray.

Midoriya, ever the boundless well of enthusiasm, sat beside me, still riding the high from the day's training. His hands moved in animated gestures as he recounted every moment, eyes shining with excitement as he analyzed every decision, every technique, every lesson from the Pro Heroes.

I nodded along, humming at appropriate intervals, but my mind was elsewhere.

Food.

Would Lunch Rush have Katsudon today? Maybe okonomiyaki? What about matcha ice cream? My stomach grumbled at the thought. I glanced at my phone, debating whether I had time to check the cafeteria's menu.

Izuku kept talking, oblivious to my wandering thoughts.

"…and then All Might himself showed up and personally commended the team for their quick thinking and heroism!" he finished, his enthusiasm practically radiating off him.

"That's incredible, Izuku," I said, offering a small smile while my mind continued calculating how fast I could reach the cafeteria once we got back. For a son, he is rather devoted to his father, being as starstruck by the man as he is.

The bus began to slow.

At first, I barely noticed, still half-lost in thought. But after a few moments, the quiet stretched too long.

Midoriya was still bouncing in his seat, his excitement undampened. "Hey, thanks for listening. I really appreciate it!"

I smiled, not letting the guilt of my inattentiveness show. "Of course, Izuku. You always have such amazing stories to tell."

Then I glanced past him, looking out the window.

Something wasn't right.

The streets were empty.

Too empty.

At this time of day, the roads should have been crowded. Pedestrians, cars, movement—there was nothing.

The stoplight ahead turned green.

Then red.

The bus didn't move.

I blinked, frowning slightly as my brain tried to process the delay. I turned toward the robot driver—and felt a chill creep up my spine when I saw the LED screen was dark.

"It's off."

I looked toward the back of the bus. Aizawa hadn't moved.

I hesitated before stepping over and nudging his leg with my foot.

His red eyes snapped open instantly, his Quirk activating by reflex.

A wave of pressure slammed into me, my throat locking up, my muscles seizing—

Then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

Aizawa blinked, shaking off the remnants of sleep. He yawned, voice gravelly. "What is it, Yamada?"

I straightened. "The driver. It's off."

Midoriya had already leaned forward, inspecting the silent machine. His fingers hovered over the controls, like he could somehow reset it.

Aizawa pushed himself up, his posture shifting. His gaze flickered toward the window, his brows furrowing.

"Something's wrong."

He turned his attention toward the driver. A pause. His lips pressed into a thin line.

"...stupid rat welded the thing to the bus."

That was all the warning I got before he forced the doors open and stepped outside.

I watched him go, my fingers tightening slightly against my arms. Something felt wrong.

I pulled out my phone. No signal bars.

My breath hitched.

The villain attack on our usual route.

The driver was sparking this morning.

No communication. Route shifted.

"...There is no one around."

Something moved outside.

A figure appeared—a young man, standing where no one had been just moments ago.

Teal hair.

A half-mask.

A gray t-shirt and jeans, lazily thrown together—and a cape of hands.

My eyes flickered toward Aizawa. His back was tense, his weight shifting slightly.

I pointed at the figure. "Who's that?"

Izuku, beside me, shrugged. "Some low-ranking hero?"

I turned to stare at him, unimpressed. For someone who idolizes heroes, that's an embarrassing lack of knowledge.

Before I could reply, the bus shuddered.

The back tires dropped—as if the ground had suddenly vanished beneath us.

I twisted in my seat, my mouth opening to warn—

Then something slammed into me.

A force—unexpected, violent—shoved me forward toward the open door.

My mind flickered back, unbidden, to the last time I had been tackled, and for a split second, my body seized in reflexive horror.

Midoriya's grip latched onto my arm, his panic cutting through the chaos.

And then—

We were falling.

We hit the concrete, the impact jarring my bones as we rolled from the momentum. My instincts screamed at me to move, to orient myself, and assess the battlefield.

I ripped my arm free from Midoriya's grip, my boots scraping against the pavement as I pushed myself upright.

Where did the bus go?

Why was it so quiet?

Midoriya's hand grabbed for me again—

Under attack!

I leaned into his instincts, following his momentum as he yanked me aside. A heartbeat later, the space we had just occupied was swallowed by black mist, spreading like a corrosive ink spill, warping the air with an almost liquid shimmer.

A voice—smooth, almost casual—broke through the quiet.

"That's enough. Save your energy for All Might."

My head snapped toward the source. Hero? No—criminal.

Aizawa was already in motion, his goggles snapping into place, his body low and poised. He wasn't attacking.

Why?

I stopped. Listened.

Bones cracking. A low sizzle—from the right.

A drumbeat. Cymbals clashing—from the left.

Ambush.

The clashing discord of competing noise rang out below us. Another portal of black mist churned beneath Aizawa's feet.

He leapt, narrowly avoiding the pit forming beneath him, rolling into a low dodge just as a flurry of darts shot from the windows above.

Then he was on the masked villain.

The shift was instantaneous. Scarf flick—tight grip—immobilization.

"Call off your friends and bring back the bus."

For a split second, the villain hesitated—then, he laughed.

A sound like crumbling paper and rasping lungs, sending an involuntary twitch through my ear.

Then—

A sandstorm erupted.

Aizawa jerked back, his scarf disintegrating where it had been wrapped around the villain.

Decay.

He barely had time to recover before hidden enemies opened fire. Bone darts, acid-green liquid, jagged splinters tearing through the air from both sides of the street.

Aizawa had no choice but to keep moving, weaving through relentless fire, making his way toward cover.

"Ahhh. That scarf of yours was a little tight there," the villain mused, flexing his fingers, watching Aizawa like a predator toying with its prey.

"I'd rather not get stun-locked by that thing again."

He raised a hand.

Snap. Snap. Snap. Steady, rhythmic, like the ticking of a metronome.

"Let's deal with this mini-boss quickly before the next phase starts."

Mini-boss?

"Smoke, bring the fodder here, and for God's sake, get the adds secured."

Another portal yawned open—this one chaotic, jagged—its sound warping reality, a distorted beat playing in reverse.

From it, a squad of bouncers in tailored suits emerged, cracking their knuckles.

Not thugs. Hired muscle. Organized.

They waited, their attention shifting toward the teal-haired villain, who continued his steady snapping as if directing an orchestra.

"Get the hero, boys."

The two largest mutants charged—sleeves rolled up, metal knuckle-dusters glinting in the dim city lights.

Then—Midoriya moved.

No.

He rushed forward before I could stop him, his arm cocked back, seven discordant melodies following his momentum.

The moment I heard the warping noise again, my stomach twisted.

Another portal.

This time, in front of him.

"Midoriya, STOP!"

He didn't.

Instead, he dove under it, the sheer force of his mad dash keeping him going.

I gritted my teeth and ran.

If something happened to him, and I did nothing—

The public might crucify me if the son of All Might dies.

Another portal churned beneath me, its cacophony of noise and wind trying to yank me off balance.

I turned my dash into a hop, keeping my momentum as I chased after the reckless idiot.

The two mutants noticed Midoriya's charge and shifted their focus, abandoning their assault on Aizawa.

Instead, they turned to intercept him.

Midoriya didn't falter. His arm pulled back, his muscles tensed—

"SMASH!"

The air detonated around his fist, the force hitting like a warhead. The mutant hurtled backward, his body flipping violently down the street, crashing through concrete and rolling into a heap. The shockwave rattled nearby buildings, windows cracking from the sheer force.

For a moment, even the ringleader paused, his rhythmic snapping faltering as he turned his gaze to the carnage.

Then, a portal swallowed the fallen villain.

A second rip in space yawned open farther down the street, depositing the mutant unceremoniously onto the pavement, his bulk skidding to a stop.

The groan that followed was the only sound for a beat—

Then the illusion shattered.

Aizawa moved first, seizing the opening. A quick step forward—faster than the eye could track—a brutal kick to the throat. His remaining opponent choked, staggering back.

Midoriya held his stance, his fist still clenched, but even from here, I could see the damage. His wrist—his forearm—

Broken.

Fractured at best.

I need to get him out of here.

The teal-haired villain tilted his head.

"Smash? Fan of All Might, are you?" he asked, voice dripping with mockery.

His fingers curled, a slow, deliberate snap echoing through the battlefield.

"Let's see how you like it when that type of power is used against you. Get the Nomu here."

That name made Aizawa flinch.

His reaction was instantaneous—ducking under a slow, telegraphed swing, then snapping out a jab, fist striking groin—a sharp grunt—then flipping the larger opponent over his shoulder, slamming them to the ground.

His body twisted—dodging another volley of bone darts, acidic sprays, splinters raining from above. His movements were pure efficiency, barely wasting a single motion.

Then his gaze snapped to us.

"Get out of here, you two!"

I stared, disbelieving. "I'm tryi—"

And then—

Sound.

Not sound as in noise. Not something recognizable, tangible, logical.

No.

This thing—the assault on my ears—was impossible.

It was like asking a blind man to describe colors, trying to force understanding where none existed.

A sickening orchestra of contradictions—

Rubber bouncing. A child's toy, harmless, playful—warping into something unholy.

Straining metal. Screeching under tension, as if a bridge were seconds from collapsing under its own weight.

Rushing water. A river—no, a flood, something too massive to contain.

Pumping blood. A heartbeat, but wrong, slow, like it was being forced through dead veins.

A hollow, ringing void. A vacuum of sound, swallowing everything else in its wake.

It pressed against my skull, burrowed into my bones, the vibrations slithering through me in a way that felt wrong—

And something massive began to step through the darkness.

A choir of agony and hate, resonating with a frequency that should not exist.

A sound opposite of the only other people I had met who resonated like a choir—All Might and his son.

It emerged from the portal, taking two deliberate, earth-cracking steps.

A beast of a man, grotesque in a way that made my stomach recoil, yet eerily precise, like a weapon built to be perfect in its monstrosity.

It was a fusion of human and animal, but unlike any quirk mutation I had ever seen. This was not a natural deviation of genetics—this was something created.

Something wrong.

The criminal's body was immense, towering over us with a hulking form that carried the same exaggerated musculature as All Might—but where All Might was imposing yet heroic, this was twisted, uncanny.

Its skin was a bruised, purplish hue, too dark, its surface stretched unnaturally tight over bulging muscle and thick, wire-like veins that pulsed beneath the skin, as if struggling to hold in what lay beneath.

A bald, misshapen head, its dull black eyes flickering toward each of us in turn, vacant yet calculating, like something barely aware of its own autonomy.

It wasn't just built for destruction—it was designed for it.

A weapon.

"Nomu. Show them your strength."

The teal-haired villain's words barely finished leaving his mouth before a low, bestial growl rumbled from deep within the thing's chest.

I barely had a second to process it.

Then the street exploded.

A loud, deafening crash rang out as Nomu moved—not ran, not lunged—disappeared from where it had been standing, the sheer force of its movement fracturing the pavement beneath it.

My mind barely caught up before I saw its trunk-like arm descend, aiming directly for Midoriya.

MOVE!

Before I could react, Aizawa tore forward, pushing the green idiot out of the way just as Nomu's fist came down like a meteor.

Impact.

The force shattered the concrete, a shockwave tearing through the street, sending debris flying in all directions.

Aizawa was hit, full force.

His body snapped backward, slamming into the pavement just feet from me.

For a terrifying moment, he didn't move.

That…

What the hell is this thing?!

Bizarro Might?!

I barely had time to process before the teal-haired villain spoke again, voice still bored, completely unfazed by the display of power.

"Nomu—keep them alive. Only maim the old one. Their screams will draw All Might's aggro."

I stiffened.

They're baiting him.

This wasn't random—this was a plan, one that was already in motion.

A muttered curse from the teal-haired man barely registered as Nomu lunged again, its massive form closing in on Aizawa's crumpled figure.

Midoriya froze, and I could almost feel it—the realization slamming into him, the first clear moment where his idealism collided with reality.

It was too late.

We were surrounded—at least eight enemies, organized, and they had a method of transporting reinforcements at will.

Where.

The hell.

Were the Heroes?!

My thoughts halted—

A bone-shaking roar tore from Nomu's throat, reverberating through the air like a war drum.

A declaration of power.

And I realized—

We weren't just trapped.

We were prey.

Memories of war cries flooded my mind, threatening to overwhelm me with a violent torrent of emotion. Anger. Fear. Desperation. A storm clashed within me, the battlefield seeping into my present reality like a nightmare breaking free from its cage.

I grit my teeth, cursing Being X for putting me in another harrowing situation—another arena where survival balanced on the razor's edge.

Gunfire.

Sharp, echoing cracks rang out from the buildings above—the criminals revealing themselves once more.

I threw myself to the side, instinctively avoiding the sniper fire, landing in a crouch as the chaos around me escalated.

The sound of bones grinding against pavement, concrete cracking under monstrous force—Nomu was moving again, his massive frame lunging toward Aizawa, who was dodging with all he had while bullets rained down.

But something wasn't adding up.

Why were they only shooting at Aizawa?

Midoriya rushed forward, sparks of green lightning flickering around his arm.

I cursed.

That idiot was going to get himself killed.

I pushed off the ground, trying to reach him, but he was already too far ahead—charging toward the stunned bouncer, the one bracing for impact against the far more muscular teenager.

"SMASH!"

The bouncer was sent flying once more, caught midair by a swirling purple vortex, the teleporter pulling him out of the fight.

I grabbed Midoriya by the shoulders as he rubbed at his wrist—did he break it again?!—but now was not the time.

"Izuku! What are you doing? We need to go!"

He ripped himself free, twisting to face me, his expression hardened with determination.

"We can't just leave—"

"Yes, we can!" I snapped, but the words died in my throat.

Nomu moved.

In the corner of my vision, the monster gripped Aizawa's arm—

And shattered it like a twig.

Aizawa's cry of pain was brief—cut short as Nomu slammed him into the ground, his massive frame looming over him like a predator securing its kill.

My breath hitched.

I knew better than to scream.

To draw attention.

The creature turned, its body tensing as it locked onto us, its empty black eyes devoid of thought—of mercy.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him.

The old man, smirking wickedly, his lips forming a single word.

I refuse.

A cold rage flared inside me.

I refused to let Being X dictate my fate.

I refused to let this warped world crush me under its terrifying weight.

I refused to submit to whatever game this deity had planned.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as my anger burned away my fear.

The being's smile widened—its eyes narrowing in mocking amusement.

I refuse.

I barely registered my own strength as my grip tightened on Midoriya's shoulder.

Then—

A sharp flicker of movement caught my attention.

The ringleader—the teal-haired villain—had pulled out a phone, his fingers tapping away at the screen.

My mind worked instantly.

If I could turn this situation to our advantage—if I could manipulate him into letting us go—

Then maybe—

"HAVE NO FEAR! FOR I AM HERE!"

The air cracked open as a comet of muscle and force descended from the heavens.

A gust of wind tore through the battlefield, debris kicking up, the sheer force of the impact rattling my bones. I instinctively covered my eyes, my grip on Midoriya the only anchor keeping me grounded.

He didn't even flinch.

When the dust settled, Aizawa had been moved, his battered form leaning against a wall, and at the center of the new crater—

All Might and Nomu, locked in a clash of strength.

A battle of titans.

"Ah, look who finally showed up," the ringleader drawled, his voice carrying an almost amused tone. "The Symbol of Peace himself."

All Might's grin never wavered.

His muscles tensed.

He heaved Nomu off him, his fist slamming into its side with a window-shattering impact.

The monstrosity didn't budge.

Its flesh rippled, absorbing the full force of the blow—but it did not react.

It felt nothing.

I barely had time to process that impossibility before a soft chuckle broke through the air.

The ringleader.

His laughter grew, twisting into something deranged, victorious.

All Might's eyes narrowed, but instead of stopping, he spun, grabbing Nomu's body and throwing it—

Straight at the ringleader.

A portal tore through the air, Nomu disappearing before impact, only for a man made of smoke—the teleporter—to finally appear beside the villain.

"Behold!" the ringleader declared, voice dripping with madness. "The unstoppable force that is my Nomu! A man born of science and darkness! The harbinger of All Might's downfall! With him at my side, we will shatter the facade of Heroism and force all of Japan to see the ones they discriminate against!"

All Might stood resolute, his grin unwavering, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty.

"Your delusions of grandeur will never come to pass."

He straightened, despite the torn white dress shirt and slacks from earlier, and radiated the undeniable presence of the Symbol of Peace.

"A real hero will always find a way for justice to be served. As long as I stand as the Symbol of Peace, the beacon of hope will never be extinguished."

I tuned out the monologue battle.

All Might was here.

That meant we could leave.

I yanked Midoriya's attention toward me. "We need to get Aizawa and run!"

"Three hours."

I blinked. What?

Midoriya refused to move, his lips parting only to repeat the phrase under his breath.

"Izuku!" I hissed, shaking him harder, forcing him to look at Aizawa—bloodied, injured, barely standing.

His face shifted—conflicted. Understanding. Horror. Doubt.

Maybe this was the first time he had seen his father fight like this.

Before either of us could speak, gunfire erupted again.

All Might caught the projectiles midair, his massive hands closing around them like they were nothing.

"Stand down now, and this won't have to get ugly."

The ringleader's eyes flickered with amusement.

"Smoke. Send the raid away. They did their job."

His voice lowered—

"Nomu, kill All Might."

The edges of my senses prickled—the remaining villains vanished into portals.

And Nomu—

Nomu charged.

The roar that escaped its throat was inhuman, ghastly, a sound that shook the air like a death knell.

A grin stretched across his face, unwavering despite the force of the impact rattling the air around us.

"So, that's your answer?" he asked, voice still light, still carrying that same unshakable confidence.

His grip tightened.

"Then allow me to respond—Delaware Smash!"

The counterpunch slammed into Nomu's gut, the sheer force behind it sending shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. The air compressed, dust and debris exploding outward, forcing me to stumble backward into the nearest building as my boots struggled to keep traction.

I gritted my teeth and forced my attention away from the battle. All Might would handle Nomu.

I had another objective.

Aizawa.

I turned my gaze toward him, barely suppressing a grimace. His forearm was shattered, blood pooling beneath him, his face pale and slick with sweat. But even in his injured state, his red eyes remained locked past me, his focus elsewhere.

Right. He was still erasing the ringleader's Quirk.

That was the only reason the villain hadn't used whatever ace he had up his sleeve.

I crouched beside Aizawa, pulling out bandages from my belt, hands already moving with methodical efficiency.

"Stay with us, Aizawa. You can't fall asleep yet."

His breaths were shallow, uneven. Izuku knelt beside me, his trembling hands tightening the tourniquet, causing Aizawa to wince, but his eyes didn't close.

"Just… get out of here already," Aizawa muttered, his voice weaker than before. "All Might won't be able to keep this up for long."

I scowled.

Great. Now the teacher is delirious.

His eyes rolled slightly, threatening to drift shut, but I reacted instantly, smacking the side of his head—ignoring the bloody handprint I left behind.

"Do, re, mi—wake up, wake up."

A cough. His eyes blinked back open. Good.

I kept humming, switching between random jingles, commercial tunes, anything with a simple melody to keep him from slipping too far into unconsciousness.

Izuku shot me a bewildered look, but I ignored him, keeping my hands steadily working as I secured the final wrap around Aizawa's arm, locking it in place with a tightened sling against his chest.

"One minute," I muttered. "That's all we needed."

But even in that minute, the battle raged on.

Nomu and All Might hadn't stopped their assault on each other—their fists connecting in brutal, earth-shattering impacts, their movements blurring between blows. The force of their strikes tore into the pavement, cracked the surrounding buildings, and sent wind currents roaring across the battlefield.

Being this close to their fight was dangerous.

"Izuku, we need to get Aizawa out of here. Please."

But—just like before—he shook his head.

"We can't just abandon—"

"Izuku! We will only get in his way!"

He grimaced, looking away from me, his fists clenching at his sides.

What is with this kid?! Aizawa's the one with the concussion, not him!

A final clash of blows sent both titans skidding apart, and in the stillness that followed, Nomu stood grinning, unbothered.

And All Might… was panting.

I froze.

He was panting.

"You have gotten weaker, All Might."

The ringleader's voice carried a smugness I wanted to wipe from existence.

The smoke villain stood beside him, ready to teleport them away the moment things went south.

"Time has nerfed you," the villain continued. "And with Nomu's Shock Absorption, he will put that final nail in your meta."

Shock Absorption?

All Might's grin shifted.

His eyes narrowed.

"Shock Absorption, you say?"

There was no hesitation.

He launched himself forward—his fists now a blur of impossible speed.

Nomu reacted instantly, keeping up, blocking every hit, even returning some.

Wind kicked up around them as the clashing of bone and flesh rang like war drums.

All Might's voice thundered through the chaos.

"Your Quirk is only Shock Absorption. Not Nullification! That means—"

His next punch connected.

A crater formed beneath them.

"—there is a limit to what you can take!"

The ground cracked, spiderweb fractures splitting through the pavement as a fire hydrant erupted nearby, spraying water high into the air.

Nomu staggered from the onslaught, his feet skidding back.

Then—

A mighty uppercut.

Nomu was sent hurtling skyward, his body flailing through the air like a ragdoll launched from a cannon.

All Might followed.

A single leap carried him ten stories high, closing the distance in the blink of an eye. His fists rained down in a relentless barrage, each blow colliding with monstrous force, each impact shaking the very air itself.

From below, we could only watch—watch as Nomu curled in on himself, his body trying and failing to defend against the onslaught.

Then—

Near the ground, All Might twisted, his movements fluid, precise. He shifted his weight, planting his boots on Nomu's back—

And then drove him downward.

The shockwave tore through the street, collapsing what little remained of the already shattered pavement.

Dust and debris billowed outward, choking the air.

All Might stepped back.

His stance lowered, his fist drawn back—

A familiar glow radiated from his form, but to me, it was more than that.

The air pulsed—not just with power, but with sound.

A chorus of voices, a rainbow of soundwaves, bursting brighter, louder, stronger with every second.

I was the only one who could see it.

"You may have heard this lesson before," All Might said, his voice booming, unwavering—

"But let me teach you what it really means to go beyond—"

Nomu rose.

Unscathed.

I sucked in a breath, but before my shock could settle, All Might was already moving.

He appeared in front of Nomu in an instant, his presence dominating.

His Quirk shined, sang—

A thousand souls bursting in unison.

"PLUS ULTRA!"

The force of the impact was indescribable.

The remaining windows shattered. Cement walls cracked. The very air itself split apart.

A blur of motion—Izuku grabbed my arm, hauling both me and Aizawa away from the collapsing building, just as the structure groaned under the force of the battle.

When the dust settled—

Nomu was gone.

Not beaten. Not crumpled on the street like the previous opponents.

Gone.

I followed the trajectory of the attack, my eyes drifting upward—

The clouds high above were torn open, a wound in the sky—

As if something had been launched through them at incomprehensible speeds.

No. No, I did not just witness a murder.

I swallowed, suppressing the wicked curl of amusement threatening to stretch across my lips.

All Might wouldn't want me thinking such things.

All Might was a hero, after all.

I let the thought linger, tucking it away. Maybe I could use this to my advantage later.

A groan from Aizawa snapped me back to reality.

I resumed singing, my voice low, steady, ensuring he didn't lose consciousness.

"Stay awake, sir. It's almost over. All Might saved us."

Izuku's starstruck expression hadn't shifted—he was so enraptured by All Might's victory that he had almost forgotten Aizawa was literally bleeding out on his back.

My words must have jolted him back to reality, because his expression shifted to panic, his grip on Aizawa tightening.

"I really have gotten weaker," All Might laughed, his voice carrying through the clearing dust. "Back in my heyday, that would have only taken five hits. Today, it took more than three hundred. Hahaha!"

A taunt.

A proclamation of strength, meant to demoralize the enemy.

Now, the villains would surrender—and I could finally go home, claim trauma, and leave the hero course.

"You have been bested. Surrender, and we can all get this over with quickly."

I could already see it.

The next steps.

The way out of this mess.

Then—

"You… That's not what was supposed—"

The ringleader trembled.

The air around him shifted, a low, eerie sound like sand slipping through fingers filling the silence.

Thin hands reached forward, fingers outstretched, trembling—

Like he meant to grab something.

A vision flashed through my mind.

A hero dissolving into dust.

I acted instantly.

"Sir, he can disintegrate anything on touch—!"

But before I could finish my warning, Midoriya moved.

I lunged for him, grabbing at his sleeve—but he was too fast.

A black portal bloomed before him, its edges writhing, warping space like a churning void—

And then—

A hand shot out, latching onto Izuku's throat.

Everything froze.

Izuku.

Me.

All Might.

Even the remaining villains held still.

A low chuckle rose from the ringleader's chest, his fingers tightening around Midoriya's neck, holding him in place like a puppet on a string.

He didn't move from his original spot.

Instead, his voice rang out, his tone carrying the weight of twisted delight.

"All Might… you will kneel before me."

His grip tightened, Midoriya's breath hitched—

"And beg me to spare this child."

Silence.

A cold, suffocating silence.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Then—

"I said KNEEL!"

Steam billowed from All Might's body, rising off him in thick waves as his calculating gaze flicked between the villains and Midoriya.

He was measuring the distance.

Measuring the risks.

Whatever conclusion he reached—

He slowly sank to one knee.

I swallowed hard, my position near Aizawa suddenly too exposed, too vulnerable.

I turned to Aizawa—our eyes met.

His expression didn't change, but—

His red irises flashed.

I nearly screamed.

The ringleader's mocking laughter split the air.

"And there we have it! The mighty Symbol of Peace! The beacon of Hope for all!"

My gaze darted to All Might.

His eyes were dark, focused not on the villain, but on us.

Midoriya.

Aizawa.

Me.

"You see, All Might, I hate to have to threaten children like this, but you leave me no choice," the villain droned, his voice thick with gleeful self-importance. "The way the world looks up to you—"

He was monologuing.

Of course, he was monologuing.

Perfect.

"The way they worship you, as if you are some divine figure."

I tensed, subtly shifting my weight.

I had one chance.

One opening.

How much strength would it take to tear Midoriya from his grip?

"But now, with you gone," he continued, oblivious, "I will show the world just how rotten it is at its core. I will be the cure. I will tear down all of hero society and usher in a new—"

"Now."

Aizawa's gravelly voice barely reached my ears, but the moment I heard it, the moment I registered his glowing red eyes, I moved.

A blur of motion.

The villains noticed too late.

I lunged for Midoriya, my fingers latching onto the fabric of his sleeve, yanking him from the villain's four-fingered grip.

But the momentum pulled me backward—

I stumbled, my balance snapping out of alignment.

All Might surged forward, but before he could reach us—

A portal tore open in front of him.

He skidded to a halt, digging his feet into the ground, narrowly avoiding stepping into the swirling black void.

Another portal opened—

Behind me.

An arm locked around my neck.

Tight. Unyielding. Cold.

"No, no. We can't have that now, can we?"

The suffocating stench of stale Doritos and flat Mountain Dew flooded my senses, an offensive mix of synthetic filth and poor life choices. The sheer disgust nearly made me gag, but worse than that—

I knew.

I knew I had only moments before Aizawa's Quirk disengaged.

Before I was dead.

The moment stretched into eternity.

My world contracted to the vice-like grip around my throat.

Panic detonated in my mind.

Air became a luxury denied.

I couldn't strengthen myself—I couldn't break free.

My lungs screamed for breath, but none came.

Each heartbeat became a war drum, thundering in my ears, a frantic rhythm of survival on the edge of collapse.

I knew this feeling.

The ghost of a noose whispered across my mind, a memory of a past death that had almost claimed me.

Being X's hand tightening around my fate.

Again.

My body reacted before my mind did, fighting like a cornered animal.

My hands clawed at his arm, nails digging, scraping, seeking anything—skin, tendons, weakness—anything that could pry myself free.

I refused.

I refused to let this be my end.

Not like this.

Not without a fight that would rage until every last ember of Being X's wretched plans burned to nothing.

Then—

A shock.

Pain.

The arm loosened.

Air rushed back into my lungs, the relief so sudden and staggering I could barely process it before—

The vice returned.

But—

Different.

The grip wasn't just around my neck anymore.

It was inside my throat.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't think.

Panic exploded through me, my body screaming for oxygen as my vision blurred, the edges blackening like ink spreading across paper.

Sounds warped.

Distant at first.

Then louder—too loud—all-consuming—

I didn't realize my eyes had shut until—

They were forced open.

Blurred figures stood over me. Teachers.

Aizawa.

Recovery Girl.

More.

And behind them—

A shadow. A presence.

Being X.

Standing just beyond them, silent, watching—

Mouthing that damned word.

Pray.

I refuse.

I refuse.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

---

[h4]Kyoka Jiro, Hero Student, 1-A Seat #12[/h4]

---

I woke up with a start.

The rhythm of the bus had changed. The wheels weren't moving.

I blinked blearily, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings. We weren't at U.A. yet. We were still in the city, parked between buildings.

"The driver shut off," someone muttered.

Well, that sucks. I guess I get more time to sleep—

"Something's wrong."

Aizawa's voice cut through the air like a blade.

The bus door hissed open.

I stretched, looking around, noticing that Tanya and Midoriya were near the front, standing next to the open door.

"Who's that—"

"Some low-ranking hero?"

I pushed myself up to get a better look—

Then the bus lurched.

It felt like the back wheels had fallen into a ditch, but there was no ditch.

"Aizawa!"

"No time!"

Everything happened too fast.

Tanya looked back at me—her expression unreadable—just before she was tackled out of the bus.

And then—

We fell.

The impact knocked the wind out of me, pain jolting up my spine as the bus floor slammed into my back. Chaos erupted around me.

Screams. Explosions—

A piercing ring tore through my skull, my earjacks overloaded from the sheer volume of Bakugo's Quirk going off too close. I clutched at my ears, cursing as my vision blurred.

Somewhere through the haze, I heard shouting.

"Bakugo, shut up!"

"Where the hell are we?!"

I forced my eyes open, blinking against the spots clouding my vision.

The gates of U.A. loomed in front of us.

What? No—no. That wasn't right.

I staggered to my feet, my head still swimming as I looked around. Everyone was here. The whole class.

Except Tanya and Midoriya.

A chill shot down my spine.

"We left them back there—" I started, but Tsuyu cut in, her voice eerily steady.

"Black mist circled the bus. We fell here."

Black mist.

A sick feeling twisted in my stomach.

The teachers—already rushing toward us—exchanged glances. Principal Nedzu pulled out his phone, his small fingers tapping furiously against the screen.

"Recovery Girl will check all of you over," he said, too calm, too controlled. "Don't worry about your classmates. We will find—"

A scream ripped through the air.

I turned just in time to see Uraraka pointing up.

A black portal had torn itself open in the sky.

Two figures dropped.

The mist dissipated.

Gravity took hold.

The teachers moved faster than I'd ever seen.

They caught them.

I took a step forward, my pulse hammering in my ears. Something was wrong. The teachers were circling them, forming a barrier.

Someone grabbed me—I wasn't even sure who—but I shoved them off. My eyes locked onto Tanya—

Why was she wearing Midoriya's boots?

Then I heard it.

"I—I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Midoriya's voice—choked, desperate, trembling—crashed over me like a wave of static.

I took another step forward, but then—

The smell hit me.

A sharp, overwhelming stench of copper.

Blood.

So much blood.

"Hold her down!"

"Where's Recovery Girl—where is she?!"

"Her throat—her chest, it— fuck!"

I froze.

I could hear it dripping.

Thick, wet splatters hitting the ground.

"She's decayed—oh god, it's spreading—!"

Another voice, panicked. "Get something—get something to stop the bleeding—!"

A strangled, wet cough. A weak, gasping inhale.

"Tanya, stay with us—!"

I barely recognized my own voice when I whispered, "No."

"Get the kids out of here!"

"I'm sorry, I—I—"

Midoriya.

I could still hear him, barely above the chaos. His voice cracking, each word breaking apart like glass.

"I—I couldn't—I couldn't stop it—I couldn't—"

More movement. A shuffle. A body shifting—Tanya's?—and then—

"I'm sorry—"

And then—

A wall of cement slammed down in front of me.

Cutting me off.

Blocking my view.

I lunged forward, my hand slamming against the wall. "NO—!"

But I couldn't see anymore.

Only hear.

Choked voices. Barked orders. A frantic rush of movement.

I pressed my palms against the stone, my earjacks twitching, straining to catch any more sound, anything at all—

I heard someone sobbing.

And then, nothing.

---

AN: To think. There is only sixty five more pages to edit and then I can get to new content. le sigh.

As I said in my other story: SoonTM. SoonTM.