The day before the U.A. Sports Festival, Izuku and Mei were working late in the support workshop, surrounded by scattered tools, blueprints, and various half-assembled gadgets. Mei, as usual, was brimming with excitement, but this time it wasn't just about her inventions.
"So, Izuku!" Mei exclaimed, looking up from her latest project. "Are you excited about the Sports Festival? It's the perfect chance for me to show off my babies!" Her eyes gleamed as she spoke, clearly eager to have her inventions in the spotlight.
Izuku, focused on adjusting the settings on Cerebro, looked up with a slight smile. "I think it's great for you. You'll get to show off all your amazing work," he said, acknowledging her enthusiasm.
Mei raised an eyebrow. "But what about you? You're not going to compete?"
Izuku shook his head. "I'm not entering the festival. I don't want too much attention. My quirk… it's better if only a few people know what I can do."
"Eh? Seriously?" Mei looked surprised. "You could win for sure if you wanted to! You're crazy powerful!"
Izuku laughed softly, but his decision was firm. "I know. But I'd rather stay low-profile. My quirk isn't really flashy for something like the Sports Festival. It's more effective in the background."
Mei pouted slightly, but she quickly shifted her focus back to her own excitement. "Well, more attention for me then!" she said with a wide grin. "I'm going to show the world my babies!" She turned back to the workbench, adjusting her equipment with renewed energy.
Izuku couldn't help but smile at her boundless enthusiasm, but in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake the lingering concern about what had happened at USJ. He knew more dangers were on the horizon, and the last thing he wanted was to expose himself in front of a massive audience. Not now, at least.
The next day, the U.A. Sports Festival began in full swing, and as expected, it was a grand spectacle. Class 1-A and 1-B put on incredible performances, each student pushing their quirks to the limit. Mei, true to her word, used the festival as a platform to introduce her babies—her latest inventions. She drew significant attention from scouts and companies interested in her technological prowess.
Meanwhile, Izuku stayed behind in the workshop, watching the event unfold from a small screen. Bakugo, with his usual intensity, dominated every round, blasting through his opponents with sheer power and will, eventually taking the top spot and securing victory.
Throughout the entire U.A. Sports Festival, Bakugo couldn't help but keep glancing around, searching for any sign of Izuku. From the start of the obstacle race to the final match, he expected Izuku to appear at some point—perhaps as a last-minute contestant, eager to prove himself in front of everyone. But as each event passed, Bakugo's frustration grew. Izuku was nowhere to be seen.
"Where the hell is he?" Bakugo gritted his teeth. It wasn't just about the competition; it was the principle of the matter. How could someone like Izuku, someone who had grown up beside him and then suddenly surpassed him in such a terrifying way, not take part in the festival? Didn't he care about showing his strength? Or maybe... maybe he thought the festival was beneath him.
That idea festered in Bakugo's mind throughout each event. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. "Deku thinks he's too good for this now," he muttered under his breath. "Doesn't even need to try anymore."
Memories of the USJ incident flashed through Bakugo's mind, the sight of Izuku's calm, focused expression as he effortlessly stopped dozens of villains without lifting a finger. If Izuku could do that from such a distance, with such ease, then winning the Sports Festival would be nothing for him. "He could win without breaking a sweat," Bakugo thought bitterly. And that realization dug into him like a thorn.
As the final round approached, Bakugo clenched his fists in frustration. He fought with everything he had, obliterating his opponents with explosive force, his emotions boiling over. But as he stood victorious in the center of the stadium, cheers ringing in his ears, his victory felt incomplete. Without Izuku there, it was as if the win didn't even matter. It felt like he hadn't really defeated anyone. He was left with an unsettling void.
As he walked off the stage, trophy in hand, he scanned the crowd one last time. Still, no sign of Izuku. "Damn you, Deku," Bakugo muttered under his breath, gripping his trophy harder. He couldn't shake the feeling that, somewhere, Izuku was watching—unimpressed, uncaring, and far beyond his reach.
While the festival proceeded smoothly, behind the scenes, a more ominous event was unfolding. After receiving the intel from Izuku's telepathic investigation during the USJ attack, Nezu had acted swiftly. Thanks to his influence and connections, the decision was made to transfer Shigaraki, along with the captured Nomu and Kurogiri, to Tartarus—the most secure prison for the world's most dangerous villains.
Shigaraki had originally been assigned to a standard facility, but Izuku's revelation about his ties to All For One had shifted the course of his fate. The threat he posed wasn't ordinary, and Nezu's insight ensured that every precaution was taken.
As the convoy transporting Shigaraki, Nomu, and Kurogiri made its way to Tartarus, things took an unexpected turn. The villain had been restrained and sedated, yet, just as they neared their destination, something dark and sinister began to happen.
The guards noticed Shigaraki twitching, and before they could react, thick, black sludge began to pour from his mouth. The sludge swirled around him like a dark cloud, enveloping his body.
"What the hell is that?!" one of the guards shouted.
In a matter of seconds, Shigaraki disappeared, the black, mud-like substance vanishing along with him.
Shigaraki arrived at Dr. Garaki's lab, disoriented and frustrated after his sudden escape. The transition had been jarring, the teleportation process rougher than what he was used to with Kurogiri. He stumbled slightly as he walked into the sterile, dimly lit room.
Dr. Garaki turned to him, his old, hunched frame leaning over a monitor. "You're safe now," the doctor rasped. "All for One sent me to extract you. It wasn't easy, but I prepared a contingency Nomu just in case Kurogiri was captured."
Shigaraki blinked, still catching his breath. "Contingency Nomu?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation. His mind was still swimming, the events of the USJ attack flashing before him.
Dr. Garaki nodded, pushing up his glasses as he approached. "Yes, this method of teleportation is far less refined than Kurogiri's. It's less... comfortable, as you experienced, but it worked. We had to get you out of there before they could transfer you to Tartarus."
Shigaraki clenched his fists, his face twisting into a snarl. "I wasn't supposed to get caught! Those damn heroes..." His voice broke, frustration bubbling over into the beginnings of a tantrum. He kicked a nearby chair, sending it flying across the room. "How did things go so wrong?!"
Before Garaki could respond, the monitor flickered, and the calm, imposing voice of his master filled the room. "Shigaraki," All for One began, "I've heard about what happened. Tell me everything."
Shigaraki bit back his anger, but it was evident in the way his hands trembled as he spoke. "It was a disaster, Sensei. We were about to crush them. But suddenly, all of us—me, Kurogiri, the Nomu, and every villain there—were frozen. We couldn't move. It was like... like someone was in my head, controlling me!" His voice wavered with rage and confusion. "It wasn't one of the heroes. It couldn't have been!"
All for One listened intently, his expression unreadable. "Interesting," he mused after a long pause. "UA hasn't released any details of this event to the public. There's been no mention of such a quirk in any reports."
Garaki glanced at the screen, his eyes narrowing. "It's clear that UA is hiding something. They must have someone with an exceptionally powerful quirk, one they don't want the world to know about."
Shigaraki growled, his fists tightening. "Whoever it is, they ruined everything!"
All for One leaned back slightly, his tone contemplative. "This changes things, Shigaraki. UA is protecting someone—a weapon, perhaps. A quirk powerful enough to stop not just you but the Nomu, Kurogiri, and an entire army of villains all at once."
Shigaraki's anger simmered beneath the surface, but now, curiosity began to mix with his fury. "So, what do we do?"
All for One's voice took on a colder, more calculating edge. "We find out who this person is. UA may think they've hidden their secret well, but we have our own resources within their walls. I will have my contacts investigate. If they truly possess such a powerful quirk, it could be a great asset to us... or a threat that needs to be eliminated."
Shigaraki sneered, his fingers twitching with anticipation. "I'll kill them myself once we know who they are."
Dr. Garaki shuffled forward, his hands clasped behind his back. "For now, Shigaraki, you need to recover. We'll continue to build your strength and prepare for our next move. The heroes may have won this battle, but the war is far from over."
Shigaraki nodded, his eyes still burning with rage. "They won't get away with this."
The screen on the monitor flickered once more. "Be patient, Shigaraki. We will strike when the time is right. And when we do, UA and their secret weapon will fall." The monitor clicked off, leaving the room in an eerie silence.
Stain, the Hero Killer, stood motionless on the edge of a tall building, his figure shrouded in shadow. His cold, unwavering eyes stared down at the streets below, where Ingenium lay battered and broken, unable to move after their brutal encounter. The moonlight illuminated the scene, casting a pale glow over the fallen hero.
Ingenium's armor was cracked, his breathing labored, as he struggled to push himself up, but his limbs failed him. Blood pooled around his body, and the sound of distant sirens echoed through the city, though help was still far away.
"You're not worthy," Stain muttered to himself, his voice low but filled with disdain. His red scarf fluttered slightly in the night breeze as he gripped the handle of his katana, blood still dripping from its blade. "This world is full of fakes... pretenders who don't deserve to call themselves heroes."
He watched Ingenium for a few more moments, his mind racing with thoughts of purging the corrupt society of false heroes. Stain's mission was righteous in his eyes—a crusade to cleanse the hero system of those who sought fame and fortune instead of true justice.
"Only those with true conviction have the right to be called heroes," he whispered, stepping away from the edge of the building and disappearing.