The Man Out of Time: Chapter 34 (Patreon)

Disclaimer: My Hero Academia was created by Kohei Horikoshi and is owned by its respective copyright holders. Marvel Comics characters and concepts are owned by Marvel Entertainment. I do not own any pre-existing characters, settings, or other copyrighted material from either franchise. I own only the original characters and story elements created specifically for this fanfiction. This is a nonprofit fan work created solely for entertainment purposes.

The Man Out of Time

Chapter 34

“To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.”— Winston Churchill

Last time on “The Man Out of Time” …

As Yagi closed the door, sealing them off from the corridor, Midoriya glanced at Coulson, whose expression of mild annoyance was uncharacteristic. Turning back to Nezu, he asked, "What brings you here, sir?"

Nezu's smile widened as he approached Midoriya, extending a hand in greeting. "Oh, just a small matter," he replied, his beady eyes twinkling with mischief. "I've come to personally welcome Captain America himself to my department. A hero of your stature deserves a proper introduction."

Midoriya blinked twice, processing Nezu's words. Slowly, he extended his hand, grasping Nezu's paw. "You...you know?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

Dean Nezu chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, I've known since you first applied here."

"What?!" Midoriya's gaze snapped to Coulson and Yagi, both of whom wore expressions of mild frustration. "But...how? The cover S.H.I.E.L.D provided was supposed to be foolproof."

"Yes, your cover would have likely succeeded elsewhere," Nezu said, his grin broadening. "But those places don't have me."

Coulson added, "Nezu is among the smartest beings on the planet. He's solved more cold cases and complex investigations than anyone else. Even S.H.I.E.L.D has sought his expertise on several occasions."

Nezu's laughter filled the room, tinged with a hint of pride. "No spy organization can keep secrets from me!" His words seemed to dance around the office, much to Coulson's evident irritation, who couldn't help but twitch at Nezu's boast.

As they settled into their seats, with Nezu comfortably reclaiming Yagi's office chair, Midoriya cleared his throat to restart the conversation. "So, Dean Nezu, now that you know who I am, what happens next?"

"Well," Nezu began, his voice carrying a mix of seriousness and intrigue, "under normal circumstances, you'd be facing expulsion for falsifying your application."

Midoriya's face remained impassive, but his grip tightened slightly on the arms of his chair as the weight of Nezu's words settled in the air.

"However," Nezu continued, leaning forward slightly, "these are anything but normal circumstances. Your secret—this dual identity—is as critical to protect as the secret of One For All. Therefore, I am prepared to keep it."

Relief washed over Midoriya, and he exhaled deeply, his shoulders relaxing. "Thank you, sir. I can't express how much—"

"That being said," Nezu interjected, his tone turning grave, "you must be prepared for the possibility that your identity could be exposed. Given All For One's involvement, it's not a question of 'if' but 'when' your true identity might come to light."

Midoriya's brow furrowed as he contemplated the implications. The thought of his identity being revealed was daunting—how would the world react, and what would it mean for his new friends?

Before he could delve deeper into his worries, Yagi shifted the conversation. "Let's focus on the immediate issues at hand," he suggested briskly.

"Very well," Nezu agreed, turning to Coulson. "Agent Coulson, what has S.H.I.E.L.D uncovered about the events in Hosu?"

Coulson nodded, beginning his brief. "On the surface, the attack appeared to be a random act of violence spurred by Shigaraki Tomura's penchant for destruction. However, Stain's involvement indicates a deeper strategy orchestrated by All For One. He aimed to align Stain's radical ideology with the League of Villains' actions—a connection the Japanese media is now starting to piece together."

"Which means," Yagi added grimly, "that the League might soon expand, becoming larger and potentially more dangerous than before."

Coulson confirmed the concern with a grave nod. "There have been significant stirrings within the Japanese underworld. Various villains, ranging in notoriety, are now seeking out the League, either drawn by Stain's convictions or the allure of joining a rising power."

"They must have a hideout," Midoriya interjected. "Any leads on their location?"

Coulson shook his head, his expression grim. "Difficult to say. Kurogiri's warp Quirk makes tracking their movements nearly impossible. We're working on it, though."

Nezu added, "I will be assisting in the efforts to locate the League. Until then," he glanced at the three men, "we need to prepare for the inevitable confrontation."

Midoriya frowned, his gaze dropping. "You're right. Honestly, with everything that's happened, I've been questioning whether I can continue my studies at UA."

Yagi's eyebrows arched in surprise. "What do you mean? Are you thinking about dropping out?"

"It's not that I want to leave," Midoriya clarified, meeting Yagi's concerned look. "But given All For One's goal to defeat us, Toshinori, we can't overlook the likelihood of another attack on the school."

A heavy silence fell over the room as the gravity of the situation settled in.

"I wouldn't worry excessively about that," Nezu interjected, breaking the silence. "UA's security systems are among the best in the world, significantly enhanced since the USJ incident. Even All For One would think twice before launching a direct attack. This leads me to another important matter."

Nezu's gaze sharpened. "Captain, I recommend that you move onto campus as soon as possible."

"Into a dormitory?" Midoriya queried, his brow furrowing.

Coulson nodded in agreement. "Given the circumstances, S.H.I.E.L.D concurs that you'd be safer within UA's fortified environment. That, and our agents are starting to be stretched thin with other missions across the globe."

"I understand, but wouldn't moving into a dorm be unusual this late in the semester? Might it not raise questions?" Midoriya asked, skepticism in his tone.

"Leave that to me," Nezu reassured. "Though the relocation is not solely for security reasons," he added, sharing a meaningful look with Yagi.

Yagi nodded solemnly. "Cap, given recent events, we believe it's necessary to accelerate our plans."

Understanding dawned on Midoriya, though he remained concerned. "But if I were to inherit One For All now, wouldn't it raise suspicions about my sudden increase in strength?"

"Actually," Dean Nezu replied with a sly grin, "I've devised a strategy to address that very predicament."

Musutafu, Japan – May 2197

Midoriya Izuku had never owned much in his life. Neither in the far past nor present.

That made packing easier in the practical sense, but it did not make it simple. The small studio apartment that had served as his first real home in this era looked strangely bare with half-filled boxes lined against the wall. His books were stacked neatly in one box, his journals and notebooks in another, and the few personal items he had allowed himself to keep on display were wrapped carefully in old shirts before being set aside.

The room had always been simple. By most people’s standards, it was not much.

To Midoriya, it had been proof that he was alive.

He stood by the desk with one of his old notebooks in hand, his thumb resting along the worn edge. This apartment had been quiet, plain, and sometimes lonely, but it had also been his since coming to Japan. After waking up more than a century and a half out of place, after learning that everyone he had once known was gone, after being told to adapt to a world that had moved on without him, this little room had given him somewhere to breathe.

A place to study, train, and wonder who Midoriya Izuku was when Captain America was not needed.

He set the notebook into the box and closed the flaps.

“Sentimental?” Coulson asked from the doorway.

Midoriya glanced back. Agent Phil Coulson stood there in his dark suit, a tablet in one hand.

“A little,” Midoriya admitted. “Didn’t expect that.”

“Usually means the place mattered.”

“It did.” The super-soldier looked around the apartment again, taking in the small kitchen, the desk, and the couch where All Might had once woken up after passing out from shock. “It was the first normal place I’ve had in a long time.”

Coulson’s expression softened slightly. “I know.”

Midoriya smiled faintly, though it faded as his eyes drifted toward the door. “Doesn’t feel like a normal dorm move though.”

“No,” the agent replied honestly. “It isn’t.”

Midoriya appreciated that he did not dress it up.

Coulson stepped inside, glancing toward the SHIELD-marked cases stacked by the entrance. “Nezu has already smoothed everything over on UA’s end. Officially, this is a security recommendation after Hosu and a temporary campus housing adjustment for a student with heightened risk factors.”

“And unofficially?”

“Soft lockdown.”

Midoriya exhaled through his nose, unsurprised. “That’s what I thought.”

“It’s not a prison, Cap.”

“No,” he agreed, folding another shirt with military neatness before placing it into a box. “But it’s not freedom either.”

Coulson did not answer immediately. Outside the apartment, two SHIELD agents moved quietly through the hall, collecting cases without drawing attention. They were dressed like movers, but Midoriya could tell from the way they carried themselves that they were anything but civilian. One had already checked the stairwell twice. The other kept his left hand free at all times.

The walls were closing in. Politely, professionally, and for very good reasons, but closing in all the same.

“Izuku.”

He paused at Coulson using his given name.

Coulson’s voice remained even. “After Hosu, after what happened with Stain, and after Romanoff had to reveal herself in the field, the situation changed. SHIELD resources are stretched thin, UA is one of the most defensible locations in the country, and Nezu is one of the few people on the planet I would trust to turn a school into a fortress without making the students feel like they’re living in one.”

Midoriya nodded. “I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

The answer was simple enough that the green-haired man almost laughed. He closed another box and lifted it one-handed, carrying it to the door where one of the disguised agents accepted it from him.

“Careful with that one,” Midoriya said. “Notebooks.”

The agent straightened slightly. “Yes, sir.”

Midoriya blinked.

Coulson’s mouth twitched.

“Still weird,” Midoriya muttered.

“People calling you sir?”

“People acting like I’m their commanding officer when I’m trying to move textbooks.”

“You are very difficult not to salute.”

“That’s not helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

Midoriya gave him a dry look before returning to the desk.

For a few minutes, they worked in companionable quiet. Coulson reviewed the inventory, the agents moved the heavier items, and Midoriya packed with careful efficiency.

From somewhere farther down the hall came the sound of a door opening, followed by light footsteps and the faint rustle of someone locking up for the morning.

Midoriya stilled.

His gaze drifted toward the front door. Uraraka lived a few doors down, close enough that their mornings had started overlapping without either of them really planning it. Close enough that a knock on his door from her had become one of those small things he had stopped being surprised by. Close enough that walking to campus together, studying together, or checking on each other after long days had become ordinary.

One of the last ordinary things he had.

Coulson noticed. “Miss Uraraka?”

Midoriya nodded quietly. “Yeah.”

“Have you told her you’re moving?”

“Not yet.” Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck. “I was going to tell her today.”

Coulson lowered the tablet a little. “You didn’t tell her before the movers came?”

“I thought it’d be easier if everything was already arranged.”

“Cap.”

“I know.”

“That was not a compliment.”

“I know that too.”

Coulson sighed, though there was more sympathy than reprimand in it. “For someone with enhanced strategic processing, you still occasionally make very young man decisions.”

Midoriya frowned. “That sounds insulting.”

“It was affectionate.”

“Still insulting.”

“Also accurate.”

Midoriya opened his mouth to respond but stopped when there was a soft knock against the doorframe. He turned and found Uraraka standing just outside the apartment, one hand resting against the edge of the open door.

She was dressed casually, but her eyes were fixed on the boxes. Her expression did not collapse. It only shifted a little, her usual brightness dimming as she took in the half-empty room.

“Izuku-kun?” she asked.

The quietness of her voice hit harder than if she had sounded upset.

“Morning, Occhan,” he greeted gently. “Sorry. I was going to come talk to you in a few minutes.”

Uraraka stepped inside slowly. Her gaze moved from the boxes, to the empty spaces on his bookshelf, to the men carrying sealed black cases through the door. One of them had the sleeves of his work jacket rolled down, but his posture looked too straight for a normal mover.

Her eyes then landed on Coulson.

He smiled politely. “Good morning,” Coulson greeted in easy Japanese. “Sorry for the commotion. We’re trying to keep the move quick.”

“Oh, good morning.” Uraraka bowed a little, still clearly caught off guard. “Are you with the moving company?”

“That’s right,” Coulson replied without hesitation, speaking in Japanese.

Uraraka glanced at his suit, his polished shoes, and the tablet in his hand.

“You’re dressed really nice for a mover.”

Midoriya’s eyes flicked toward Coulson.

Coulson, completely unbothered, adjusted one cuff with mild dignity. “I believe strongly in representing the company well.”

Uraraka blinked once.

Midoriya pressed his mouth into a line.

Coulson continued, “Also, I’m mostly logistics.”

“That makes more sense,” she admitted, though she still looked faintly suspicious.

“It usually does after the second sentence,” Coulson replied.

Midoriya coughed lightly into his fist. “Occhan, this is Phillips-san. He’s helping coordinate the move.”

“Phillips?” she repeated.

“Phil Phillips,” Coulson said smoothly.

Midoriya stared at him.

Uraraka’s brows lifted slightly. “Your name is Phil Phillips?”

“My parents had a sense of humor.”

For one dangerous second, Midoriya looked like he might actually break. He turned away and busied himself with closing a box.

Uraraka seemed uncertain whether she was supposed to laugh, so she only gave a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Phillips-san.”

“Likewise, Uraraka-san.” Coulson’s tone remained perfectly professional. “I need to confirm the transport route with the team downstairs. Midoriya-san, take your time.”

Midoriya gave him a grateful look that also carried a promise of later judgment.

Coulson left with the quiet efficiency of a man who knew exactly when to disappear. The remaining agents followed a moment later, leaving Midoriya and Uraraka alone in the half-packed apartment.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

Uraraka folded her hands in front of her. “So… you’re moving?”

Midoriya nodded. “Yeah. Onto campus.”

“Oh.” She tried to smile. “That’s good, right? I mean, after everything that happened in Hosu, UA is probably safer.”

“It is.”

“And with Dean Nezu there, and All Might, and the professors…” She nodded too quickly. “It makes sense.”

“It does.”

“Right.” Uraraka looked down at the nearest box. “That makes sense.”

Midoriya felt something twist in his chest. He had seen Uraraka scared, embarrassed, determined, and angry. He had seen her exhausted after training and beaming with pride after a hard-earned victory.

This was different. She was trying very hard to be happy for him, and that made it worse.

“Occhan,” he said softly.

Her fingers tightened around each other. “When?”

“Today.”

Her eyes lifted to his. “Today?”

“Most of the arrangements were finalized last night. Dean Nezu already had the room ready and wanted the move handled quickly.”

“Oh.” Her smile wavered. “That’s… really quick.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“No, it’s okay.” She shook her head, though her voice did not quite sell it. “You had a lot going on. And it’s not like you need my permission or anything. It’s your apartment.”

“Still. You’re my friend. You should’ve heard it from me before seeing boxes.”

Uraraka’s cheeks warmed faintly, but the sadness did not leave her eyes. She looked past him toward the desk, now stripped of most of its papers and notebooks.

“I guess I got used to it,” she admitted.

Izuku tilted his head slightly. “Used to what?”

“You being here,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Down the hall, I mean.”

He did not interrupt.

Uraraka’s gaze drifted toward the hallway outside the apartment. “It sounds silly when I say it out loud. I know we’ll still see each other at school, and training, and with everyone else. It’s not like you’re moving across the country or anything.”

“It doesn’t sound silly.”

She gave him a small, grateful look before continuing. “It’s just… you became part of my day without me really noticing it. Hearing you leave in the morning, walking together sometimes, knocking on your door when I had a question, knowing you were right there if something happened.” Her smile turned fragile. “I didn’t realize how normal that felt until now.”

Midoriya swallowed. For a man who had endured gunfire, war, ice, and a future that should never have been his, he found himself briefly undone by the idea that his presence had become someone’s normal.

“I didn’t realize either,” he admitted.

Uraraka looked at him in surprise.

Midoriya glanced around the apartment. “I’ve spent a lot of time trying not to get too attached to things. Places. Routines. People.” He paused, his mouth tightening with quiet self-reproach. “That probably sounds worse than I mean it.”

“No.” Uraraka shook her head. “I think I get it.”

“I don’t want to keep losing things,” he said. “So sometimes I tell myself not to hold onto them too tightly in the first place.”

Uraraka’s chest ached at the honesty. She had known Midoriya carried sadness, but sometimes the shape of it still caught her off guard. He spoke about loss like an old wound that had healed wrong, something he could function around but never fully forget.

“That sounds lonely,” she said.

“It can be.” Midoriya looked at her then, his expression softening. “But you and Yamomo made it less lonely.”

Uraraka’s eyes widened slightly.

He seemed to realize how direct that sounded, because a faint blush crept across his cheeks. Still, he did not take it back.

“You did,” he continued, quieter. “Having a friend down the hall helped more than you think.”

Uraraka felt heat gather behind her eyes and quickly looked down. Her heart was beating too hard, too fast, and she was afraid if she looked at him for too long, everything she had been holding back would spill out of her.

She loved him.

She knew that now with a clarity that was almost frightening, but the words stayed lodged in her throat.

“I’m glad,” she managed. “I’m really glad, Izuku-kun.”

Midoriya stepped closer, careful not to crowd her. “I’m not disappearing. I know this changes things, but I’m still here. We’ll still study together, train together, and walk to class when we can. And if you need me, you can always call.”

Uraraka let out a small laugh that sounded close to a sniffle. “You say that like I’m the only one who knocks on your door.”

“You do knock on my door a lot.”

“Hey.”

“I like it.”

Her complaint died before it could properly form.

Midoriya smiled gently. “I mean that.”

Uraraka’s face warmed, and for a moment she looked like she might say something more. Something too honest. Something neither of them could easily step back from.

Instead, she took a breath and forced a small, steadier smile. “Then I’ll still bother you on campus.”

“Good.”

“Maybe more.”

“I’ll prepare accordingly.”

“You better.” Her smile became a little more real, though sadness still sat beneath it. “Because if you think moving to UA gets you out of helping me study, you’re wrong.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.” She looked around the apartment one more time. “Do you need help?”

Midoriya blinked. “With packing?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Uraraka walked to the desk and picked up a small stack of notebooks before glancing at him. “But I want to.”

Midoriya’s expression softened again, and he nodded. “Thanks, Occhan.”

Later…

They packed together after that.

The quiet that settled over the apartment was not uncomfortable, just heavy in a way neither of them quite knew how to name. Uraraka handled his notebooks carefully, smoothing bent corners before placing them into boxes, while Midoriya worked through the kitchen with practiced efficiency born from years of moving between temporary places and learning not to leave a mess behind. Every now and then their hands brushed while reaching for the same item, and both of them reacted a fraction too slowly before pretending nothing had happened.

At one point, Uraraka opened a worn workbook and stared at it in disbelief. “You really did write the same kanji over and over again.”

Midoriya glanced over from the counter. “I had to.”

“There’s like five pages of just one character.”

“It was a difficult character.”

Uraraka flipped the page toward him. “It’s the one for tree.”

Midoriya looked mildly offended. “It has several strokes.”

“It has four.”

“Four complicated strokes.”

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it, bright and warm enough to loosen something tight in the room.

Midoriya smiled despite himself. He liked her laugh. He liked that she could still find one even now, with SHIELD agents moving through the building, security recommendations hanging over his head, and the shadow of All For One stretching longer by the day. Somehow, even at the end of this, she could still make the apartment feel like home one last time.

A few minutes later, Coulson returned and paused in the doorway. His eyes moved from Midoriya, to Uraraka, to the nearly finished stack of boxes.

“Good timing?” he asked dryly.

“Almost done,” Midoriya replied.

“I can see that. Uraraka-san, thank you for assisting.”

“O-oh, it’s no problem,” Uraraka said quickly. “I just wanted to help.”

Coulson’s gaze flicked briefly toward Izuku before returning to her. “I’m sure he appreciates it.”

Midoriya resisted the urge to sigh. Coulson’s tone remained perfectly professional, which somehow made the teasing significantly worse.

Uraraka, thankfully, did not seem to notice.

Coulson checked something on his tablet. “The last transport leaves in five minutes. After that, UA expects you on campus before lunch.”

“Understood.”

With that, Coulson stepped back into the hallway and disappeared from sight.

The final box was taped shut not long after.

Midoriya lifted it into his arms and headed for the doorway before slowing to a stop.

The apartment was empty now.

Not completely. The furniture remained, along with the appliances and bare necessities, but the warmth was gone. Now, it was just an apartment. Not a home.

Uraraka stepped beside him quietly, her hands clasped behind her back.

Midoriya glanced down the hallway, then toward her door across from his. “I guess this is it.”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Uraraka then turned to face him fully. Her fingers curled lightly against her palms as she forced herself to hold his gaze.

“I’m happy you’ll be safer.”

“I know.”

“And I know this is the right thing.”

“I know.”

Her lips pressed together briefly before she admitted, quieter this time, “But I’m still sad.”

Something in Midoriya’s chest tightened painfully at how honest she sounded.

“I am too,” he admitted.

The answer seemed to steady her more than reassurance would have.

Before she could lose her nerve, Uraraka stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Midoriya froze for half a heartbeat in surprise. His expression then softened. Balancing the box against one arm, he carefully returned the hug with the other, holding her gently, like he was afraid of making the moment heavier than it already was.

Uraraka closed her eyes.

She knew this was not a confession. She knew she was not saying goodbye to him, not really. Classes would continue. They would still see each other every day.

But this still felt like the end of something small and precious.

No more knocking on his door before class. No more morning workouts together. No more late-evening study sessions. No more casual hallway conversations.

For the first time since he told them he was moving, the reality of it settled fully into her chest.

So for a few selfish seconds, she let herself hold onto him anyway. Eventually, she pulled back before the moment could become too much for her. Her cheeks were pink, but she managed a smile.

“I’ll see you at UA, Izuku-kun.”

Midoriya smiled back at her, softer than before. “See you at UA, Occhan.”

He then turned and walked down the hallway with the last box in his arms.

Uraraka stayed where she was, watching him go.

Near the stairwell, he stopped once and glanced back toward her. She lifted her hand in a small wave, trying very hard to keep her smile steady.

He returned the gesture before disappearing down the stairs.

Silence settled over the hallway.

Slowly, Uraraka looked toward his apartment door.

It was still there, only a few steps away, but it already felt different. Empty. The quiet presence she had grown used to knowing was on the other side was simply… gone.

Her hand drifted to her chest, where her heart felt too full and too heavy all at once.

“I really am in trouble,” she whispered to herself.

The next morning, Class 101-A was not even five minutes from homeroom starting, and everyone was making a valiant attempt at pretending the day would be normal.

Midoriya sat at his desk with his notebook open, already reviewing the day's lesson plan. Across the room, Uraraka stole a glance toward him before quickly looking back down at her own notes.

Near the center of the classroom, Yaoyorozu was reviewing something on her tablet while Tokage leaned over the back of the chair in front of her, looking far too pleased with herself.

“So,” Tokage said, keeping her voice low enough not to carry across the room, “any updates on your new costume?”

Yaoyorozu glanced up from the tablet, her expression brightening despite herself. “Yes, actually. The support company confirmed the final adjustments last night. The material is responding well to the DNA sample I provided.”

“Told you they were good.”

“You did,” Yaoyorozu admitted. “I confess I was somewhat nervous about the process, but if the fabric functions the way yours does, I should be able to create objects through it without compromising coverage or mobility.”

“Meaning no more obvious weak spots.”

“That is the goal, yes.”

Tokage grinned. “And it'll look good too, right?”

Yaoyorozu's cheeks warmed faintly. “Functionality is the priority.”

“Sure. Functionality.” Tokage's eyes flicked toward Midoriya for only a second. “I'm sure Greenie will write a very professional analysis about how functional it is.”

“Setsuna-chan.”

“What? I'm being supportive.”

“You are being deliberately impossible.”

“Those can overlap.”

Tokage leaned back with a satisfied smile. “Anyway, mine's getting a few changes too.”

Yaoyorozu's embarrassment faded into curiosity.

“Oh? What kind of changes?”

Tokage's smile became entirely too innocent. “You'll see.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It's the only answer you're getting.”

Before Yaoyorozu could press further, the classroom door slid open.

The room settled almost immediately.

Aizawa walked to the front of the room with his usual tired expression. “Take your seats.”

Everyone did.

He looked over the class once before speaking. “The Hosu Incident is officially closed from the university’s perspective.”

That immediately had everyone's attention.

“However,” Aizawa continued, “the investigation being closed does not mean the consequences are over.”

Iida's shoulders stiffened.

“The League of Villains demonstrated they are willing to attack populated areas and exploit moments of chaos. That means every one of you should assume your internships, work studies, and hero activities may become more dangerous moving forward.”

Todoroki spoke first. “Sensei, this isn't just about Hosu. Is it?”

“No.” Aizawa met his gaze. “It isn't.”

Tokoyami folded his arms. “A shadow lengthens over hero society.”

Jiro sighed. “I hate when he says stuff like that and he's right.”

Aizawa ignored the comment. “For that reason, security procedures around UA have been adjusted.”

Iida's hands tightened against his desk.

Uraraka noticed immediately. “Iida-kun?”

“It is nothing,” he replied too quickly.

That only made several students look at him.

“Iida,” Aizawa said, his voice as flat as ever.

Iida straightened in his seat. “I merely mean that, given what happened in Hosu, I cannot help but feel some responsibility for the additional precautions being taken.”

The room quieted.

Midoriya's expression softened.

“I am aware this is not the appropriate time to discuss it,” Iida said, cutting himself off before he could say more. “But I intend to speak with everyone properly. Soon.”

Kirishima glanced at him, already understanding. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Whenever you're ready, man.”

Bakugo scoffed. “Tch. If you've got something to say, say it before finals. Last thing we need is Glasses spiraling mid-fight.”

Iida snapped upright. “Bakugo-kun! I assure you my performance in the Final Exams will not be compromised!”

Bakugo leaned back with a sharp grin. “Good. Don't drag down whoever gets stuck with you.”

Aizawa's eyes narrowed slightly. “Since Bakugo brought it up... Final Exams begin soon. Written exams first. Practical exam details will be provided later.”

Kaminari paled. “Written exams first?”

Jiro gave him a flat look. “That's the part you're worried about?”

“All parts worry me, Jiro.”

“You're a doomed student.”

Lunch had barely begun before Kaminari started complaining about the written exams again. His voice carried across the cafeteria as the Cap Squad settled around two pushed-together tables, earning a snort from Sero and a flat remark from Jiro that studying generally worked better when it happened before midnight. Ashido and Tokage joined in, while Yaoyorozu tried unsuccessfully to assure Kaminari that he was probably doing better than he believed.

Iida barely heard any of it. He sat near the end of the table with his lunch untouched, watching Midoriya answer something Uraraka had asked him. He had tried several times that morning to find the right moment, but each opportunity had slipped past while he searched for the right words.

Eventually, Iida stopped searching.

“Midoriya-kun,” he said.

Midoriya looked over. “Yeah?”

“Would you have a moment to speak privately?”

Something in Iida’s tone must have carried more than he intended, because Midoriya’s easy expression softened. He glanced toward the lunch in front of him before nodding.

“Sure.”

They left the others behind and stepped outside onto one of the quieter campus walkways. The cafeteria remained visible through the windows behind them, but their voices faded beneath the rustling trees and distant sounds of campus.

Iida stopped beside an empty bench.

For a moment, he simply stood there.

Midoriya waited. That somehow made it easier.

“I owe you an apology.”

The super-soldier’s brows lifted slightly. “Tenya—”

“Please.” Iida adjusted his glasses. “I know we spoke in the hospital. I know I apologized to Manual-san, and I have accepted my punishment. But I never properly said this to you.”

The green-haired man nodded, letting him continue.

The navy-haired young man drew a breath. “You knew why I went to Hosu. You knew what I intended to do, and you still came after me.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you there.”

“I know.” His gaze dropped. “And that is precisely why I needed to speak with you.”

His posture straightened even as embarrassment weighed on his expression. “I chose Hosu because of Stain. Not because it was the best internship for me, and not because I believed I could help the city. I wanted revenge for my brother.” His mouth tightened. “Manual-san warned me, and I ignored him. When I finally found Stain, I was so consumed by hatred that I forgot what Ingenium was supposed to mean.”

Midoriya listened quietly.

“I nearly died because of it. Native-san nearly died. And then you entered that alley because of me.”

“That last part was my decision.”

Iida looked up. “Midoriya-kun—”

“No.” The super-soldier’s voice remained gentle, but there was enough firmness behind it to stop him. “You made a bad choice. I’m not going to pretend you didn’t. But me going into that alley was mine.”

Iida frowned. “But if I had not been there—”

“Native would be dead.”

That stopped him.

Midoriya leaned back against the bench, folding his arms loosely. “You went there for the wrong reason. No argument. But you still got between Stain and somebody he was going to murder, and when I showed up, you got back on your feet and helped me stop him.”

Iida’s expression tightened. “Only after you reminded me what my brother’s name was supposed to represent.”

“Then remember it next time without me.”

There was no anger in the words… and that made them land harder.

Iida lowered his head. “I intend to.”

“I know.”

The immediate confidence made Iida look back up.

Midoriya gave him a small smile. “You know what I saw when we got back?”

Iida waited.

“A guy who didn’t care about getting credit for Stain’s capture. A guy who apologized to his mentor instead of making excuses. Then Aizawa gave you janitorial duty and you accepted it without complaining.”

A faint grimace crossed Iida’s face. “The western hallway has an alarming amount of discarded chewing gum.”

Midoriya chuckled. “Heroism is sacrifice.”

“I am beginning to suspect Aizawa-sensei enjoys assigning that particular corridor.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

The tension eased just enough for Iida’s shoulders to relax.

The green-haired man’s expression became serious again. “Tenya, what you did in Hosu matters. Remember it.”

Iida nodded solemnly.

“But remembering it and punishing yourself forever aren’t the same thing.”

Iida went silent.

Midoriya glanced through the cafeteria windows toward their classmates. “I’ve known good people who made terrible decisions because they were angry, scared, or hurting. Some learned from it. Some let one mistake decide who they were afterward.”

His eyes grew distant for only a moment before returning to Iida.

“The mistake matters, yes. But what you do after it matters more.”

Iida swallowed. “I was supposed to become Ingenium. For a while, I feared Stain was right about me. That I was only wearing my brother’s name without being worthy of it.”

Midoriya shook his head. “Your brother didn’t give you that name because he thought you were already perfect. He gave it to you because he believed in the man you could become.”

The words struck deeply enough that Iida had to look away. After a few seconds, Iida adjusted his glasses again and straightened. “Then I have considerable work ahead of me.”

Midoriya smiled. “Welcome to the club.”

A surprised laugh escaped Iida before he could stop it. He looked more like himself afterward. “I still owe you my thanks. You saved my life.”

The super-soldier pushed away from the bench. “Then do something with it. Become the hero your brother knows you can be.” He lightly tapped two fingers against Iida’s shoulder. “That’ll cover it.”

For several seconds, Iida said nothing. His expression then steadied, and he bowed—not deeply enough to turn the moment into another apology, but with sincere gratitude.

“I will.”

“I know.”

They started back toward the cafeteria together.

Halfway there, Iida glanced toward Midoriya. “Midoriya-kun?”

“Yeah?”

“If I ever behave that foolishly again, you have my permission to strike me with your shield.”

Midoriya considered it. “Front or back?”

Iida stared at him in alarm. “I was not expecting you to negotiate the terms!”

“Should’ve been more specific.”

“Midoriya-kun!”

Midoriya couldn’t help but laugh.

Aizawa made his way down the long hallway with his trademark scowl hidden beneath his haggard hair and scarf. It was evident that he was lacking sleep again. He could have used this time during his lunch break to catch up on said necessity had it not been for—what he considered—important matters.

And those matters orbited around one person in particular.

'The Urban Guard, Romanoff, Hosu…and now moving onto campus.' He recited the reasons behind his motif. 'And the fact that Midoriya was involved in all of those along with this so-called background someone fabricated. This isn't a coincidence.'

In his stalwart path, he passed by an adjacent hallway where Midnight walked. She, too, was walking and stopped when Aizawa just passed her.

"Shouta?" she called out.

Aizawa didn't bother looking back. "Hey, Nemuri."

Kayama decided to join him in his trajectory. "Seems unlike you to be up and about during your nap hour."

"I can say the same to you. You're not normally in this area at this hour."

Kayama frowned. "Something came up, and I figured you'd be around."

"Sorry, but now's not a good time."

The R-Rated Hero slowed her pace slightly, her expression turning serious. "It's about Midoriya, isn't it?"

Aizawa's eyes narrowed slightly, a low growl confirming the female hero's suspicions. "… What do you know?"

Kayama put a hand to her chin. "Not as much as you, perhaps. But I've caught onto some things that make me think there's a lot more than what he leads on."

Aizawa made a mental note of this. He didn't like it, but if Midnight was starting to catch onto his suspicions, there was no going back now. "We'll discuss this later. Right now, I need to have a word with the Dean. Excuse me." He hurried his pace and headed down the hall, though Midnight continued in her pursuit for answers.

One long stroll later, the two found themselves in front of the Dean's door. Whatever answers Aizawa was looking for, there was only one person he knew that could be aware of this. Time to confirm those suspicions.

He knocked on the door.

"Yes? You may enter," a chipper voice called from inside.

The door opened, allowing Aizawa and Kayama entry into Nezu's office. The humanoid mouse was characteristically sipping at a piping cop of hot tea with several documents neatly organized in various stacks. Most likely related to the university and internal affairs.

The Dean of Heroics greeted his staff with a small smile. "Aizawa-kun and Kayama-chan, it's rare to see you in my office on short notice." He was formal as ever.

"Something came up that couldn't be put off any longer," Aizawa stated.

Nezu's head dipped towards his desk. "I see. Tell me, what seems to be the issue?"

Aizawa reached back for something he was carrying on his person. A series of files on Izuku Midoriya. One glance told Nezu all that he needed to know.

Midnight was taken aback by the files as well. 'That much detail?'

"I see you've been doing your homework on your students, Aizawa-kun," Nezu remarked.

"Eagle Industries, his educational background, I looked into it all. But there were little leads to those," he paused as Nezu glanced at the files. "His military training aside, everything else is a clean record…too clean. You know something about this, don't you?"

Nezu's charming smile faded, realizing where this was heading. Swift glances at the various papers told Nezu how invested Aizawa was into Midoriya. Though to a certain degree, he couldn't blame him.

"You've always had a critical eye for certain individuals, Aizawa. Especially pertaining certain personnel that catch your attention. That's what makes you an effective Underground Hero." He closed the file. "But, in the case of Midoriya…I believe it would be best not to pry any further."

Aizawa's eyes narrowed. He did not like that answer. "So you do know."

Midnight remained quiet as she folded her arms. With how big of a deal they were making this out to be, even she was starting to get worried.

"Aizawa…Kayama…I understand your concerns regarding Midoriya, as you should be. But there is a reason why he is here. I won't go breaking policies and disclose the privacies of his circumstances, but I will say this: There are threats out there that would kill for what he's worth. And to no expense at that."

The office tension flatlined almost instantly. That said plenty for the two teachers to know how drastic Midoriya's circumstances were.

"Who else is involved? All Might, perhaps?" Aizawa egged on.

Nezu closed his eyes. "He's affiliated, yes. But he's unable to disclose such details as well."

Finding the opportunity to approach, Midnight took the stand. "If it's to that extent, why go far as to keep him on campus? I understand our security systems have improved, but there's a chance that it'll become a bigger problem… One that could potentially harm our students."

"My thoughts exactly," Aizawa grunted. "Dean Nezu…" He approached the desk, looking the mouse-like being dead in the eye. "As his homeroom instructor, I believe that ensuring my students' safety is my top priority. If Midoriya is under threat, I can't let that interfere with my class's future."

Nezu hummed. "Yes, I see your point. But while he is under your jurisdiction, Aizawa-kun, you, in turn, are under mine. To that end, Midoriya's circumstances are to remain undisclosed." He reached for his teacup and saucer pan and paused before it reached his mouth. "For your sake as well as the other students, I'd rather you keep this between us. Am I clear?"

Aizawa watched Nezu take a long sip. He essentially told him not to pry his nose any further than he should. He wanted to know more. No, he needed to know more. But it was clear that there was a boundary there that he was teetering on… and his instincts told him that crossing that boundary would have dire consequences.

With finality, Aizawa turned away. "… Fine. But if Midoriya's situation extends any further—”

"Yes, I'll tell you everything."

"Good." Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Aizawa took his leave, with Kayama in tow.

Once the door closed, Nezu swiveled in his seat to look out at the glass window overlooking the campus. He watched a flock of birds flying in a V-shape, though there was one flying faster than the rest.

'Sometimes, even those who guide cannot always lead everyone the way they see fit. It takes special individuals to make their own path, no matter who is against it.'

Aizawa and Kayama walked down the corridor back towards the instructor's cubicle room. That conversation just now left a lot more questions that have answers, but are unable to be solved. At least by them.

"I never imagined that Midoriya's case would be that deep," Kayama muttered. She looked over at Aizawa, seeing his brooding expression set forward. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"From where it stands, nothing," he answered. "But it's clear that Midoriya's presence is creating a ripple effect. And I'd rather not have that endanger our students."

"But from what I've seen, he doesn't have any ill intentions."

"Maybe… But that doesn't make him any less dangerous. Our job as Heroes is to prevent that danger from getting out to the world." He sighed. "Follow me."

"Where to?"

"You wanted to know what I uncovered, right? If I can't keep my eye on him, having another set of eyes is helpful."

The two teachers walked down the hall back to the office, where they would have to spend the rest of their lunch break with some detailed discussions.

Midoriya’s new dorm room was still unmistakably temporary. Most of the furniture had already been arranged by UA staff, but several boxes remained stacked against one wall. Books sat in uneven piles across the desk, a duffel bag rested unopened near the closet, and a handful of magazines had been spread across the bed while Midoriya sorted through what was worth keeping close at hand.

A knock came at the door.

Midoriya looked up from the notebook in front of him. “Come in!”

The door slid open, revealing Yaoyorozu.

She smiled politely. “Good afternoon, Midori-kun.”

“Hey, Yaomomo.” He returned the smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.” She stepped inside, taking in the room.

It was… very Midoriya.

Orderly despite the boxes. Notes were already scattered across the desk. A whiteboard leaned against the wall with half-finished diagrams and names written across it. Several binders were stacked neatly beside it.

One sticky note immediately caught her attention.

Need to talk with Momo.

Her cheeks warmed.

Midoriya followed her gaze.

“Oh! Right. That’s why I asked you here.”

He walked over to the desk, completely unaware of the effect those words had.

“I’ve been thinking a lot since Hosu.”

Yaoyorozu listened quietly.

“I think it’s time we started putting together a proper long-term plan.”

She blinked. “…A long-term plan?”

“Yeah.” He reached for a notebook. “I’ve been thinking about the kids.”

Her heart skipped. “…The… children?”

“Hm?” Midoriya looked up. “Oh. Well… yeah.”

He nodded absentmindedly. “I think every one of them is different.”

“…”

“They’re all developing at different rates.”

“…”

“Some will mature faster than others.”

Yaoyorozu’s face steadily turned pink.

Midoriya continued flipping through papers. “And each one is going to need individual attention.”

She swallowed.

Across the room, a magazine slid from the bed onto the floor with a soft thump.

Instinctively, she bent to pick it up.

The cover read:

MEN’S HEALTH

Below the title was a smiling Pro Hero holding a toddler on his shoulders.

THE MODERN HERO FATHERBalancing Family, Duty, and Parenthood

Yaoyorozu stared.

Midoriya glanced over. “Oh, thanks.”

He accepted it without looking at the cover and placed it on top of another magazine. That one was opened to a bookmarked page.

A bold heading caught her eye.

Nutrition Before PregnancyWhat Both Parents Should Know

Her entire body froze.

Midoriya was already writing again. “I’ve also been researching nutrition.”

“…”

“I want to make sure everyone gets what they need from the beginning.”

Yaoyorozu felt like the room had suddenly become very warm. “…Midori-kun.”

“Hm?” He looked up with his usual attentive smile.

She took a slow breath. “If… if this is truly what you wish…”

His pencil stopped.

“I believe… before we reach that step…”

“…”

“You should meet my parents.”

Midoriya blinked. “…What?”

“My father would insist upon it.”

“…”

“And…” Her face had become impossibly red. “If… if your intentions are honorable enough to ask for my hand… then I believe it would only be proper.”

Midoriya’s brain stopped working. “…Your… hand?”

“Yes.” She clasped her own hands together, gathering every ounce of courage she possessed. “I… I would prefer we wait until after graduation.”

Midoriya continued staring.

“But… if you truly believe we should begin sooner…”

She looked away. “I… would trust your judgment.”

There was complete silence.

Midoriya opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. No words came out.

Yaoyorozu mistook the silence for uncertainty. Taking another shaky breath, she nodded once to herself.

“Then… perhaps I should demonstrate that… I am equally committed.”

Her fingers rose to the top button of her blouse.

Midoriya’s eyes widened. “…Yaomomo?”

“One moment.”

As she undid the first button, Midoriya’s brain finally rebooted. “WAIT!”

She jumped.

Midoriya nearly launched himself across the room. “WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!”

His hands flew in front of his face while simultaneously trying not to look directly at her. “PLEASE DON’T TAKE THAT OFF!”

Yaoyorozu froze with one button undone.

“…”

“…”

“…What?”

Midoriya looked absolutely horrified. “I-I-I’M TALKING ABOUT THE CLASS!”

Silence.

“The… class?”

“Yes!”

“The children?”

“I MEANT EVERYONE!”

Yaoyorozu stared.

Midoriya pointed frantically toward the whiteboard.

“The kids!”

He grabbed one of the pages.

“Iida!” Another. “Kirishima!” Another. “Tokage!”

Yaoyorozu looked from the papers…to the whiteboard…to the binders…then slowly down toward the magazines lying on the bed.

Midoriya followed her gaze.

For the first time…he actually looked at the covers.

THE MODERN HERO FATHER

“…”

Nutrition Before Pregnancy

“…”

“…Oh.” His face immediately became just as red as hers. “…That… probably didn’t help.”

Yaoyorozu looked down. Then slowly, with the dignified precision only Yaoyorozu Momo could somehow maintain while dying of embarrassment, she quietly fastened the button she had undone.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved.

The room fell into perhaps the most painfully awkward silence either of them had ever experienced.

Midoriya stared very intently at the whiteboard.

Yaoyorozu stared very intently at the floor.

Neither of them seemed willing to acknowledge the magazines again.

Finally, Midoriya cleared his throat. “So.”

Yaoyorozu’s shoulders rose slightly. “Yes.”

“I think… we were having two very different conversations.”

Her face reddened all over again. “That would appear to be the case.”

“I am so sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologize.” She lifted both hands quickly. “I misunderstood. Terribly. Catastrophically.”

“I called everyone ‘the kids.’”

“I made several assumptions.”

“The magazines were bad.”

“They were… misleading.”

“I didn’t notice the covers.”

“I noticed them very much.”

Midoriya pressed both hands over his face. “Oh no.”

Despite herself, Yaoyorozu made a tiny sound. At first, Midoriya thought she might be crying. He then realized she was laughing.

It was quiet, mortified, and mostly hidden behind her hand, but it was laughter.

That broke something in him too. His shoulders shook once, then again, and before long he was laughing as well. Not loudly, not enough to erase the embarrassment entirely, but enough to make the room feel breathable again.

Yaoyorozu lowered her hand, still pink to the tips of her ears. “I cannot believe I said that.”

“I cannot believe I made it sound like that.”

“You asked me here to discuss a long-term plan for the children.”

“The class.”

“After leaving several parenting articles in plain view.”

“I was reading the nutrition section for recovery diets.”

“There was a bookmark in the pregnancy article.”

“The training article was on the next page.”

“You must admit the evidence was overwhelming.”

Midoriya looked at the magazine again, then winced. “I would lose this case in court.”

Yaoyorozu covered another small laugh with her fingers.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The humor faded gently, leaving something warmer and more fragile in its place.

The green-haired young man looked down at the papers in his hand. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t mean to put you in that position.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t want you to feel like I’m ignoring what you said either.”

Yaoyorozu’s blush returned, softer this time. “Midori-kun…”

He looked embarrassed too, but his voice stayed careful. “I just don’t want to take advantage of a misunderstanding. You were trying to answer something you thought I was asking seriously, and I respect that.”

Her expression softened. That was very like him.

Embarrassed, flustered, and still more concerned with whether she felt respected than with his own discomfort.

“I appreciate that,” she said quietly.

Midoriya nodded once, then glanced at the whiteboard. “I should also probably stop calling everyone ‘the kids.’”

Yaoyorozu tilted her head. “You have done that before?”

“Mostly in my head.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s an old habit.”

“I see.”

Because to him, the class was young. Not incapable. Not weak. Not lesser.

Just young in a way he was not, even if his face still belonged among them. He carried a century and a half of absence, a war, a uniform, and too many losses beneath the surface. Sometimes the difference slipped out in language before he could catch it.

Midoriya looked down at the roster on his desk. “But it’s not really fair to them,” he admitted. “Not after USJ. Not after the internships.”

Yaoyorozu’s expression grew thoughtful.

He continued, quieter now. “You’re not children. You’re future heroes. And if I keep thinking of all of you as kids I need to protect, I might miss what they need to become stronger.”

“Right, and there’s no time like the present.” Yaoyorozu stated.

Midoriya nodded in agreement. “Right.”

For the next hour, the room became less of a temporary dorm and more of a command center. Papers spread across the desk. The whiteboard filled with notes. Yaoyorozu organized categories while Midoriya added combat analysis. They disagreed twice, revised several assumptions, and eventually created a framework that felt practical enough to use without overwhelming the class.

By the time they stopped, the evening light had shifted across the floor.

Yaoyorozu set her marker down and looked over their work. “This is ambitious.”

Midoriya stood beside her. “Too much?”

“No.” Her expression softened. “Very much like you.”

He looked at her, surprised.

She glanced at the board again. “You are always thinking about how to help everyone become better. Even when you are exhausted. Even when you are the one everyone else should be worried about.”

He did not answer immediately.

Yaoyorozu turned toward him. “You do not have to carry the class alone, Midori-kun.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

His smile turned sheepish.

She folded her arms.

He sighed. “I’m…still adapting.”

“Good.” Her voice gentled. “Then allow me to help.”

Midoriya looked at her for a long moment, and then smiled.

“Thank you, Yaomomo.”

She nodded, trying not to let the warmth in her chest show too clearly. “As vice president, it is my responsibility.”

“Of course.”

“And as your friend.”

His expression softened. “That too,” he said quietly.

Yaoyorozu cleared her throat and reached for her bag. “I should go before curfew regulations become relevant.”

“Right. Of course.”

She stepped toward the door, then paused.

“And Midori-kun?”

“Yes?” Her cheeks colored faintly, but she held her composure. “Perhaps, in the future, when you invite someone to discuss a plan for the ‘kids’…”

He winced.

“…you should specify which children you mean.”

Midoriya covered his face with one hand. “I will never recover from this.”

Yaoyorozu smiled, a little too pleased with herself. “Consider it incentive for clearer communication.”

“Understood.”

She opened the door, but before leaving, she glanced back at him and the whiteboard full of names.

Her expression warmed. “We will help everyone reach their peak,” she said.

Midoriya lowered his hand and smiled back. “Together.”

Yaoyorozu nodded once, then stepped into the hallway.

When the door closed behind her, Midoriya stood alone in the quiet room. For the first time since moving in, the space felt a little less temporary.

He looked at the whiteboard. At the names, at the plan, and then picked up the marker again and added one more note at the top.

No one left behind.

Kamino Ward, Japan

The League of Villains’ bar wasn’t as desolate as usual. At least, not for the time being.

Business remained slow, but a few patrons had left only minutes ago after drinking and discussing current events. One topic in particular had dominated the conversation.

Stain.

The name alone made Shigaraki’s neck itch like a rash had broken out. It didn’t help that the television was still covering the villain’s capture. He switched it off, barely keeping himself from accidentally disintegrating the remote.

“…we’re not the big story,” he hissed, contempt dripping from every word.

“It’s rather unfortunate that our efforts were overshadowed this way,” Kurogiri offered from behind the bar.

“Stow it. Just how many inquiries did we get? Anything we can get our hands on?”

The mist-covered villain gently set down the freshly cleaned glass. “There were twenty-three more inquiries, yet most were unstable extremists or attention seekers. Giran highlighted only a small pool of noteworthy individuals.”

“Let me guess. They wanted Stain, didn’t they?”

“Yes.”

That irritated Shigaraki more than the blow that damned green-haired military man had dealt him at the USJ. His itching intensified until he scratched around his collarbone as well as his neck.

The League was finally getting the attention he wanted, but for all the wrong reasons. Piggybacking off some infamous “Hero Killer” was far from ideal.

It wasn’t without cause, though. Hosu had been torn apart by his Nomu—high-class ones that had given even the great Endeavor and his son a run for their money. Yet all of that had become secondary to Stain’s last stand.

Before Shigaraki could scratch himself raw, Kurogiri intervened. “There may be an opportunity here if you make use of it. Stain’s influence need not diminish. Riding that momentum could prove useful if we turn his notoriety toward our own cause.”

Shigaraki glared.

“Foggy’s right,” a gruff voice said. “Just get on with it so we can move on with our lives.”

Both villains turned toward the third party. Logan sat at the far end of the bar, where he’d been for some time, nursing his second glass of beer.

“I know you’ve got a lot of problems, kid, but take ‘em to a therapist. Hearing you moan and groan about that Stain feller’s enough to put me to sleep.”

Shigaraki eyed him viciously. “Nobody asked you.”

“Then don’t be so loud. Walls can have ears, you know.” Logan tipped his head back and drained the rest of his beer.

Shigaraki’s nerves were already frayed, and it was taking nearly everything he had not to disintegrate the foreigner. “You know, the offer to join the League won’t be on the table forever. If you really want a shot at Midoriya that badly, why not join us already? We can make that happen, and more.”

The stout man slammed the empty glass onto the counter with a heavy sigh. Shigaraki had touched a nerve, and he didn’t like it.

“Ya don’t say? That does sound like a sweet deal,” he growled with heavy sarcasm. “But considering I’d be taking orders from an unstable man-child who should be wearing a cone around his neck, I’ll have to pass.”

In a blink, Shigaraki appeared beside him, eyes wide and fingers hovering inches from his face. “Watch your mouth,” he seethed. “Otherwise… you just might lose it.”

Logan remained unfazed, barely acknowledging the hand beside his face. “Here’s the thing, kid. I ain’t a major in business, but I’m pretty sure there’s gotta be some foundation of trust or whatnot. How about this? You tell me who makes your little ‘pets’ and who’s pulling your purse strings, and maybe I’ll consider it. I already know you use Foggy to get around. Handy, I’ll give him that.”

“Kurogiri,” the mist-covered entity corrected, but Logan ignored him.

“Why’s it matter who’s making my precious Nomu?” Shigaraki snapped. “And if your idea is to extort our resources, you might as well die right now.”

Logan remained unfazed. “Lemme guess, that attack at the USJ and Hosu were yours too? I don’t see how those two places are connected… well, aside from being places where people who annoy you seem to gather.”

Shigaraki’s irises trembled. His restraint was wearing thinner by the second.

“Calm yourself, Tomura,” a voice suddenly spoke. “It would be prudent to show your guest some hospitality.”

All three turned toward the television. Logan especially.

Something about that voice—the empty, leveled tone—gave him pause. A chill crawled along his spine.

“Master!” Shigaraki addressed the black monitor displaying NO VISUAL in purple letters.

“Supreme One, this is most unexpected,” Kurogiri admitted.

Logan stared at the screen with a furrowed brow. No one was physically there, yet the feeling crawling beneath his skin was unmistakable. It wasn’t like Stain.

This was something far more disturbing. His claws shifted beneath his skin. “So, I take it you’re the head honcho calling the shots, right? How much of that did you hear?”

“Quite enough, actually. I apologize for my tardy introduction. I’d hate to interrupt such a delightful conversation.”

Logan clicked his teeth, glare never leaving the television.

“I understand your reservations, but please forgive Tomura. As you can see, he is still adjusting to another unforeseen setback. Allow me to address your concerns.”

“Master, you can’t be—”

Shigaraki stopped when Logan stepped forward.

The man stood in the center of the bar with his arms crossed, facing the monitor as though engaged in a staring contest with an inanimate object.

Hard to tell who was winning.

“So, got a name?” Logan asked.

“You may call me whatever seems fitting. Mr. Logan, correct? Shigaraki has told me a little about you. It seems you have questions concerning a problem of your own.”

He spoke in fluent English, which briefly surprised Logan. He quickly returned the language.

“And you’re saying you have the answers?”

“I presume you’ve spent considerable time in Japan. And given that Midoriya reminds you of someone, I suspect you have some affiliation with the American military. Am I close?”

Logan scowled. “Thought I was asking the questions here.”

“Apologies. Merely curious whether I was in the ballpark.” The voice remained cordial. “You mentioned that business requires a certain amount of trust between parties. You’ve demonstrated considerable skill, Mr. Logan. Our offer may not be ideal, but it was not made on a whim. Your Quirk is impressive, yet Japan places restrictions on its use. You’ve already crossed that line by confronting Heroes yourself.”

Logan frowned. Truthfully, he didn’t give a damn about Japanese laws governing Quirks. But he’d be lying if he claimed he wanted Heroes chasing him while he tried to unravel his own problems.

“Yet your little poster boy over there is trying to make a name for this gimmick you’ve got going on,” he reasoned.

“True. We all have our motivations. But even the most determined individuals require the proper tools to achieve their desires.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed.

“Simply put, you’re lost. The only fragment of what you seek resides within one of Japan’s most prestigious academies. We share an interest in Midoriya, so perhaps a compromise is in order.”

“Like what?”

He didn’t like the sound of that.

“A probationary period. We provide limited resources to aid your search. In return, you observe Midoriya and the League of Villains. Watch us as we grow. Gather what information you can about Midoriya and his affiliations. If our actions draw him out, you are free to act as you see fit. Fair enough, wouldn’t you say?”

From the bar, Shigaraki and Kurogiri watched. The former was especially curious, having understood little of the English exchange. ‘Just what are they talking about?’

Logan hummed, almost growling as he considered it.

The entire reason he’d come to Japan was to discover who the green-haired man was and why he reminded Logan of someone buried inside his fractured memories. He needed to untangle the mess inside his head, and one way or another, that shield-wielding man seemed to be the key.

Being nearly broke didn’t help either. Still, Logan hardly trusted this unseen benefactor. Something about his voice stirred an unease he couldn’t explain. Was it worth it?

“I won’t press the matter further. I trust you’ll make the best decision. I hope to hear good news soon.”

The screen turned pitch-black. Silence returned to the bar while Logan stared at the floor, weighing his options.

After a moment, Shigaraki impatiently stepped forward. “Well? What’s it gonna be?”

Logan remained quiet until he finally lifted his head. “…Hey, Hands.”

Shigaraki twitched.

“Tell me this. Your next attack gonna have Broccoli Head there?”

Shigaraki narrowed his eyes. “We can arrange for that.”

Logan inhaled sharply, then released a cool sigh. “Well, good news for you. You twisted my arm just enough to make me believe you.” He turned toward them. “I’ll play along with your little gang for now…but under my terms. Got it?”

The Decay-user blinked. Whatever his Master had said clearly struck a nerve. So much for killing him now. He relaxed and sat back down. “Alright. What are these ‘terms’?”

“Leave Broccoli Head to me. If I find anything worth sharing, I’ll do just that and nothing more.”

“I see. So, as an envoy,” Kurogiri interpreted.

Shigaraki sneered. “I hate playing other people’s games.”

“Yes, but sometimes it’s best to play when the ball is in their court.”

The teal-haired man sighed, already fed up with the whole situation. “…Fine. Just keep your end of the bargain.”

The stout man shrugged. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

He casually returned to the counter and left enough money to cover his drinks. “And by the way, you might wanna improve the booze.”

With that, he waved over one shoulder and left the bar.

Kurogiri turned toward Shigaraki. “I find it difficult to believe such a man could be so accommodating.”

“Whatever Master said, it sure got to him.”

Shigaraki had no idea how right he was. Still, this could be what he needed. It wasn’t official, but they had Logan’s attention. Now he only needed to keep it.

If Midoriya mattered that much to the foreigner, perhaps Shigaraki should start focusing a little more… narrowly.

A fiendish smile spread across his face. “If Claw Boy doesn’t take his chance to kill Midoriya himself… then he’d better not cry when I do it for him.”

…

Musutafu, Japan – July 2197

The month of June passed beneath a mountain of textbooks, practice questions, training schedules, and increasingly desperate prayers from Kaminari.

For three straight days, Class 101-A had endured written examinations covering general academics, hero law, disaster response, Quirk ethics, tactical analysis, and enough mathematical equations to convince several students that villains were no longer the greatest threat to their futures. By the fourth day, the written portion was finally behind them.

But unfortunately, the practical exam was waiting.

Inside the men’s locker room, the air carried a mixture of fabric, metal, deodorant, and collective dread as the students changed into their respective costumes. Equipment cases rested open across the benches while lockers slammed and costume fasteners clicked into place.

Kaminari sat hunched forward with his elbows against his knees, staring blankly at the floor as though he had just returned from war.

“I studied until my brain started sparking,” he muttered.

Sero tightened the straps around his elbows and glanced toward him. “You’ve said that five times since yesterday.”

“I’m still feeling it.”

“That might be an actual medical condition.”

Kaminari slowly looked up. “Do you think Recovery Girl can fix failed mathematics?”

“Even medicine has limits,” Mineta remarked.

Kirishima pulled one of his sleeves into place and gave Kaminari an encouraging grin. “Come on, man. You worked hard. That counts for something.”

“Not if every answer was wrong.”

“That essay nearly broke me,” Kirishima admitted as he fastened the jagged gear around his shoulders. “But leaving it blank would’ve been cowardly.”

Bakugo slammed his locker shut hard enough to make Kaminari jump.

“Anyone who failed that garbage should transfer.”

Sero gave him an unimpressed look. “Some of us didn’t spend our childhoods studying how to become the number one student in every category.”

Bakugo’s glare sharpened. “Sounds like an excuse.”

“It was an observation.”

Nearby, Todoroki finished securing one of his boots and stood upright. “I believe I passed.”

Kaminari looked toward him hopefully. “How can you be sure?”

“I answered every question.”

Sero paused. “That does not mean you answered them correctly.”

Todoroki stared at him. A faint crease appeared between his brows as he considered that possibility for what seemed to be the first time.

“Then why ask us how we think we did?”

Sero opened his mouth, paused, and looked away. “You know what? Fair.”

Iida adjusted the armored pieces around his legs before straightening his glasses. “While nothing can be certain until the results are announced, I believe the study schedule was extremely beneficial. The review groups provided structure without sacrificing individual attention.”

Midoriya looked up from fastening one of the internal clasps of his own costume. “Everyone improved.”

His uniform looked nearly identical to the version he had debuted during the Hosu attack. The lighter green material bordered on cyan, while white covered the torso and bold vertical red stripes ran down the front. A brown utility belt fitted with several compact pouches rested around his waist, and his protective helmet remained folded behind his head, resembling a futuristic hood when it was not deployed.

The matching red, white, and cyan shield rested beside the bench within easy reach.

Kaminari stared at Midoriya with wounded disbelief. “You say that because you and Yaomomo understand all the questions.”

“We didn’t understand them for you,” Midoriya replied, securing one glove. “You still had to do the work.”

“I would’ve preferred if you had.”

“That would be cheating.”

“Only if someone found out.”

Iida made a scandalized sound. “Kaminari-kun!”

“I’m joking!”

Bakugo scoffed. “That’s what makes it pathetic.”

Kaminari pushed himself to his feet with a groan. “Laugh all you want, because at least one good thing came out of the last month.”

He reached into his open equipment case and lifted part of his upgraded costume with both hands.

At first glance, the changes appeared modest. The insulated material along his arms and torso was thicker without being bulkier, and small metallic components had been integrated around his belt, boots, and wrist equipment. Several detachable capacitors were arranged inside the case beside a compact black-and-yellow mouthguard.

Sero leaned closer. “You got new braces?”

“They’re not braces.” Kaminari held up the mouthguard defensively. “This is an advanced electrical focusing apparatus thing.”

Bakugo looked over his shoulder. “You turned yourself into a human stun gun with bad dental work.”

“They are precision capacitors!”

Kirishima’s eyes brightened. “So what do they do?”

Kaminari’s earlier despair disappeared as excitement took its place. He inserted the mouthguard and smiled broadly, revealing several conductive silver sections positioned along his teeth.

“The metal caps let me focus electricity through my mouth,” he explained, his speech slightly altered by the equipment. “Instead of releasing a huge area discharge, I can fire a narrow bolt at a target.”

Sero stared at him. “You’re going to shoot lightning out of your mouth?”

“Exactly.”

“That sounds incredibly unsafe.”

“The insulation was upgraded too.”

“For your mouth?”

“For everything.”

Tokoyami glanced over while fastening his cloak. “You have placed the storm behind your teeth.”

Kaminari pointed at him. “See? Tokoyami gets it.”

“I did not say it was wise.”

Midoriya stepped closer and studied the capacitors without touching them. “The focusing system should reduce energy loss, but the current still has to travel close to your brain and sensory organs.”

Kaminari’s smile weakened. “It has safeguards.”

“How many?”

“Several.”

Midoriya waited.

Kaminari looked away. “Enough.”

Bakugo snorted and returned to his locker.

“Can you demonstrate it?” Kirishima asked.

Kaminari immediately reached toward one of the capacitors.

“No,” Midoriya, Iida, and Sero said together.

His hand stopped.

Kaminari reluctantly placed the capacitor back into the case. “Fine. You’ll see it during the exam.”

Midoriya returned to fastening his shield harness. “Assuming the practical gives you the opportunity.”

Kirishima glanced over. “You still think they’ll pair us against the teachers?”

“That’s the traditional format,” Midoriya replied. “Two students face one instructor. The matchup is usually designed around a shared weakness or conflict they need to overcome.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed. “If they stick me with some useless extra, I’m winning alone.”

Iida frowned. “That attitude may be the exact reason you would be paired with someone.”

“Didn’t ask, Four-Eyes.”

Midoriya lifted his shield and settled it against his back. “Regardless of the pairings, we shouldn’t assume defeating the instructor is the only objective. UA rarely tests only one thing at a time.”

Kaminari stared at him. “You’re saying they might make it worse?”

“I’m saying we should be ready for changes.”

“That sounded like a yes.”

Across the hall, the women’s locker room was undergoing its own mixture of preparation and post-examination anxiety.

Ashido sat on a bench in the lower half of her costume, pulling one boot into place while scowling at the memory of the written tests. “I’m telling you that essay section was personally designed to hurt me.”

Jiro secured the equipment around her wrists. “It asked you to explain evacuation priorities.”

“For twelve hundred words.”

“You wrote more than that in our group chat complaining about it.”

“That was different. I was passionate.”

Asui pulled her gloves into place and looked toward Tokage. “How do you think you performed, Setsuna-chan?”

Tokage stood behind an open locker door, apparently making final adjustments to something no one else could see.

“I employed strategic guessing.”

Asui’s expression remained flat. “Guessing is not a strategy. Kero.”

“It is when you eliminate two answers first.”

“That is still guessing.”

“It’s educated guessing.”

“That sounds like guessing with confidence,” Jiro said.

Tsunotori sat nearby adjusting the horn-shaped openings of her headgear. Her brows had remained knitted together since entering the room.

“I think I did okay with mathematics and rescue procedures,” she said carefully, “but some of the language questions were difficult. There were words that looked almost the same but meant very different things.”

Yaoyorozu glanced toward her while fastening the support unit around her wrist. “Your written Japanese has improved considerably. Even if you misunderstood one or two questions, your scores in the other sections should compensate.”

Tsunotori smiled faintly. “Thank you, Yaomomo.”

Uraraka finished pulling on one of her redesigned boots. “The study guides really helped. Especially the little charts Izuku-kun made for hero law.”

Jiro snorted. “Little?”

Uraraka smiled sheepishly. “Okay, they were thirty pages.”

“And color-coded,” Yaoyorozu added.

“With an index.”

“And supplementary case studies.”

Ashido stared between them. “You two know that isn’t little, right?”

Yaoyorozu’s hands paused briefly over the wrist display.

“I simply wanted to make certain everyone had access to enough material,” she said, though a hint of nervousness remained beneath her composed tone.

Uraraka noticed it. “You’re worried too?”

Yaoyorozu looked down at her costume case. “Somewhat.”

Jiro raised an eyebrow. “You probably earned the highest score in the class.”

“We do not know that.”

“You completed the tactical-analysis essay with forty minutes left.”

“I used the remaining time to revise it.”

“Three times,” Tokage added from behind the locker door.

Yaoyorozu’s shoulders tightened slightly. “There may still have been errors.”

Uraraka smiled gently. “You helped all of us prepare. I’m sure you did great.”

Yaoyorozu returned the smile, but the concern did not fully leave her eyes. Passing was not the standard she had set for herself. She wanted to prove she deserved every expectation placed upon her, and that pressure had never been easy to silence.

Ashido suddenly looked toward Uaraka and blinked.

“Wait. Is that your costume?”

Uraraka’s face brightened as she stepped away from the bench.

Her redesigned uniform retained the familiar black-and-pink coloration of her earlier costume, but the shape was sleeker and more aerodynamic. The gauntlets were narrower, each containing its own reinforced grappling launcher, while the boots had been rebuilt around more powerful thrusters. Small stabilizing fins rested near her calves and forearms, and a lighter visor curved around her eyes.

Setsuna peeked around the locker door. “You look fast.”

“That was the idea.” Uraraka lifted one arm, showing the compact launcher built into the gauntlet. “Both wires can fire independently now, and the retraction system is stronger. The thrusters can also make smaller adjustments instead of only giving me one big push.”

Asui studied the reinforced sections around Ochako’s wrists and neck. “What are those for?”

“Pressure support. They’re supposed to help with blood circulation and reduce the nausea when I’m moving in Zero Gravity.”

Jiro nodded approvingly. “That sounds useful.”

“I wanted more control in the air,” the brunette explained. “Before, I still needed debris or something nearby to push from. This should give me more options.”

The pink-haired girl circled her once. “It also makes your waist look really—”

“Mina.”

“I was going to say aerodynamic.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Ashido grinned without denying it.

Yaoyorozu stepped out from behind another locker a moment later, and the room went quiet.

Her new costume was a sleek, close-fitting crimson bodysuit that covered her from the high, zippered collar down to her boots. Golden panels reinforced the shoulders, while white angular lines traced the hips and outer thighs, matching the bold, octagonal emblem centered across her chest. A segmented gold utility belt circled her waist, its compartments stocked with compact nutritional sticks, while gold knee guards, long dark-crimson gloves, and matching knee-high boots provided added protection. A slim display glowed green along her left forearm, integrated directly into the uniform.

(A/N: Credit to InsanityEnforcer234 on DeviantArt)

Uraraka’s eyes widened. “Momo, it looks amazing.”

“And expensive,” Jiro added.

Tokage finally emerged enough to inspect it properly. “They really did it.”

Yaoyorozu ran one hand over the material covering her forearm. “The fabric was produced using my DNA sample. When I activate Creation, the necessary sections become permeable to the object without tearing or exposing me. Once the object passes through, the material returns to its original state.”

She touched one of the reinforced panels along her side. “The support company also strengthened the areas I most frequently use for larger creations. The suit should distribute the strain more evenly.”

Tokage looked almost as proud as Yaoyorozu did. “All because my costume people are geniuses.”

“They deserve considerable credit,” Yaoyorozu agreed. “Your suit provided the original proof that DNA-integrated materials could function safely with a highly unusual Quirk.”

Ashido tilted her head, looking Yaoyorozu up and down. “You seem more comfortable in this one.”

Yaoyorozu paused. She then smiled, smaller but more genuine. “I am.”

Tokage’s grin turned mischievous. “Wonder what Greenie will think when he sees—”

“Setsuna-chan,” Yaoyorozu interrupted, her face turning red with alarming speed, “I strongly advise you to abandon that line of conversation.”

The room fell silent.

Tokage blinked. “I was only going to say he’d probably analyze the material.”

“Definitely not what you were going to say,” Jiro replied.

“No, but now I really want to know what happened.”

“Nothing happened,” Yaoyorozu said far too quickly.

Uraraka looked between them, curiosity flickering across her face.

Yaoyorozu immediately turned toward Tokage’s locker. “You stated that your own costume had been modified.”

Tokage narrowed her eyes, recognizing the attempted diversion but allowing it. “For now.”

She stepped fully into view.

Her redesigned green-and-purple suit retained its reptilian shape, but segmented luminous lines now ran across the fabric around her shoulders, waist, arms, and legs. Tiny propulsion nodes were embedded throughout the costume, including around her gloves and boots, while a streamlined tail section extended behind her. A narrow visor covered her eyes, displaying several small tracking symbols along its inner surface.

Tsunotori leaned closer. “What are all the little bumps?”

“Upgrades.”

“What kind?” Uraraka asked.

“The fun kind.”

Yaoyorozu examined one of the segmented lines. “These are positioned along the points where your body most commonly separates.”

Tokage tapped the side of her nose. “Good eye.”

“Are they propulsion units?”

“That would ruin the reveal.”

“You brought the costume into a room full of aspiring heroes,” Jiro said. “What did you think would happen?”

“I thought all of you would admire it and remain consumed by suspense.”

Ashido grinned. “Well, you got half of that.”

A chime sounded through the locker-room speakers, followed by Aizawa’s tired voice instructing both classes to report to the transportation area outside the Heroics building.

The students finished their preparations and filed into the corridor. Class 101-A regrouped outside the locker rooms before following the signs toward the campus bus depot, where several large UA buses waited along the curb with their engines already running.

Conversations about written scores and costume upgrades continued as everyone climbed aboard. Iida attempted to restore order from the aisle until Aizawa boarded last and silenced the entire bus with a single exhausted look.

The vehicles carried them away from the central university buildings and toward the sprawling section of UA’s campus reserved for large-scale training grounds for the Hero students. Mock cities, industrial facilities, warehouses, tunnels, and reinforced combat zones rose beyond the bus windows, each separated by thick barriers and enough open space to contain even the most destructive Quirks.

Several students leaned closer to the glass.

The grounds resembled the facilities traditionally used for the Final Practical Exams, though the number of active sectors suggested UA had prepared something considerably larger than a series of two-on-one battles.

Midoriya watched the arenas pass with growing suspicion.

There were too many barricades. Too many support vehicles. Far too many cameras.

The buses eventually slowed beside a broad central plaza linking the different examination zones. Aizawa rose from his seat before the vehicle had fully stopped.

“Leave your belongings on the bus,” he instructed. “Once you step outside, remain with your class until the examination briefing begins.”

The doors folded open with a hiss.

Class 101-A disembarked and gathered beside the bus, still adjusting gloves, visors, belts, and support equipment. Their conversations gradually faded as they took in the plaza ahead.

They had expected a handful of teachers, assigned buses, and several mock cities waiting in the distance.

They had not expected a crowd.

All twenty members of Class 101-B stood assembled near a second bus in their costumes. Ojiro adjusted the belt around his waist while Hagakure’s gloves and boots shifted beside him without a visible body connecting them. Monoma was already speaking loudly enough to irritate several members of both classes, while Kendo stood nearby with one enlarged fist prepared to silence him if necessary.

Shinso waited apart from the two classes in a dark hero uniform, his voice-changing mask resting around his neck.

Beside him stood Hatsume Mei.

Her specialized hero-support equipment looked like a collision between an armored flight suit and a mobile workshop. Mechanical components covered her arms and back, several compact tools hung from her belt, and the newly repaired Arc Reactor set into the center of her armored chest glowed with a steady bluish-white light. The manic gleam in her crosshair eyes suggested she had already forgotten this was an examination rather than a product exhibition.

The gathered examiners were even more concerning.

A short, muscular, tan-skinned woman stretched one long, powerful leg against a guardrail. She wore a sleeveless white combat suit fitted closely to her athletic frame, its dark accents drawing attention to the strength packed into her arms and legs. Long white hair spilled down her back beneath a pair of prominent rabbit ears, and her sharp red eyes swept over the assembled students with a fierce, almost hungry anticipation.

This was Japan’s current Number 7 Pro Hero, Rabbit Hero: Mirko.

Casually sitting atop one of the reinforced observation towers was a young man with tousled blond hair and a yellow-tinted visor covering his eyes, while a tan jacket hung loosely over the black clothing beneath it. Enormous crimson wings extended from his back, each individual feather moving subtly. He watched the students below with open amusement and a relaxed posture.

This was Japan’s current Number 3 Pro Hero, Wing Hero: Hawks.

Near the entrance to one of the mock cities, Thirteen spoke quietly with a blonde-haired woman. She was dressed in a blue, cat-themed hero costume complete with pointed ears, oversized paw-like gloves, and a long tail extending behind her. Thick blond hair framed a face that still appeared remarkably youthful.

This was a core member of the Wild, Wild Pussycats rescue team: Pixie-Bob.

Several paces behind Dean Nezu stood three students Midoriya immediately recognized as UA’s Big Three.

At the center of them stood a broad-shoulder young man with short blond hair swept upward in two curved sections. He had a wide smile and bright blue eyes that made him seem very approachable. He wore a white-and-blue costume with a long white cape hanging from his shoulders. If Midoriya were being honest, Mirio bared a strong resemblance with Toshinori before his accident.

This was Togata Mirio.

To Mirio’s right stood a young woman with long periwinkle hair that curled around her voluptuous body in thick spirals that nearly reached her knees. Her blue-and-white costume followed the same flowing pattern, with curved markings wrapping around her arms and legs. Large, curious eyes moved constantly between the students, the equipment, and the examination grounds with obvious excitement.

This was Hado Nejire.

Standing on Mirio’s other side, slightly behind the others was a young man with pointed ears protruded through untidy indigo hair, which hung low enough to partially hide his narrow eyes and uneasy expression. His dark hooded costume around his shoulders gave him a more withdrawn appearance than his companions, and he seemed to be studying the ground with intensity.

This was Amajiki Tamaki.

They were not the only unfamiliar faces. Apart from the Japanese Pro Heroes and fourth year students stood an older American man.

He stood apart from the Japanese heroes, inspecting a black recurve bow with the practiced care of someone checking a trusted weapon rather than examination equipment. His short gray hair and weathered features marked him as older than most of the faculty, but the lean muscle beneath his dark tactical uniform suggested age had done little to slow him down. Muted purple accents ran along the armor covering his chest and forearms, and a compact quiver rested across his back, filled with arrows whose unusual heads hinted at far more variety than the blunt practice tips currently fitted to the shafts.

Midoriya’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t recognize this man from any of his research in Pro Heroes. 

All Might stood at the center of the faculty group in full costume, arms folded proudly across his chest. His presence alone would ordinarily have dominated the plaza but surrounded by so many prominent heroes and unfamiliar examiners, even the Symbol of Peace seemed like only one part of something much larger.

Midoriya slowed to a stop. His eyes moved from Class 101-B to Shinso, then Hatsume, then the assembled teachers and guest heroes positioned throughout the staging plaza.

There were forty-two students. Far more than the traditional examination required.

Dean Nezu stood at the front with his paws folded behind his back. “Good morning, prospective heroes,” he began brightly. “As many of you have undoubtedly guessed, this year’s practical examination will differ slightly from the traditional format.”

The students looked between the gathered classes, the special examinees, the waiting buses, and the small army of Pro Heroes positioned throughout the examination grounds.

Kaminari slowly raised a trembling hand. “Define slightly.”

Nezu’s smile widened. “You will not be fighting in pairs.”

A/N: Hey everyone! It’s been a good while since I’ve updated this story.

However, in the last few months since returning to writing, I have picked up the motivation to finish what I started. I do intend to see this story to the end.

Because it’s been a while since I last wrote on this story, if you see anything peculiar about my writing, just know it’ll take me some time to get back in the swing of things.

Major credit to Insane Dominator for beta-reading and contributing to this chapter. I greatly appreciate the help!

The next chapter will be covering the revamped Final Exams. As you can tell, this will not be playing out like it did in MHA canon. The proverbial rug is getting pulled on you fine readers. Shout out to Monkey D. Conan for his input on the revised exam layout. It should make for an interesting mini-arc.

Special shoutouts for my Goin’ Ultimate members.

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