The night over, I-Island had turned into controlled chaos.
Sirens wailed in layered harmony. Emergency drones zipped between buildings. The artificial shoreline glowed with blinking hazard lights as rescue boats fanned out beneath the falling debris from the shattered arena.
And at the center of it all—
Kyoka Jirou stood on a makeshift platform of broken steel, gripping a microphone like it was an opponent she had to defeat.
"If anyone is injured out there, please try to head here!" she called, forcing projection into her voice despite the tightness in her chest. "If you can't move, shout or make noise—we'll come to you! Keep an eye out for anyone unconscious!"
Her earphone jacks extended instinctively, brushing the ground and nearby structures, feeding her vibrations—footsteps, cries, the shifting of unstable rubble. It was overwhelming—so much noise.
So many heartbeats.
"You're doing great, Kyoka!" Momo Yaoyorozu encouraged from beside a rapidly growing stack of medical supplies she was creating on the fly—bandages, splints, disinfectant kits. "Though perhaps if you introduced yourself, it might—"
Jirou turned her head slowly.
The look she gave Momo could have stopped an artillery barrage.
Momo coughed delicately.
"…I believe the triage area needs more gauze," she amended smoothly, pivoting away.
Jirou muttered something under her breath, then lifted the mic again.
"Emergency medical area here! Follow my voice if you're injured! Don't panic—help is already on the way!"
Her voice steadied with each repetition. Less tremor. More command.
Introvert or not—Someone had to take control.
And right now, that someone was her.
Above the streets—
A streak of purple tore through the smoke.
Kurokami Tenshin shot forward like a comet, rubble exploding apart under precise punches as he cleared paths through collapsed walkways and shattered storefronts.
"Anyone in here?!" he called, voice bright even in the wreckage.
A faint cry answered.
He darted through a cracked doorway and emerged seconds later with an elderly couple cradled gently in his arms.
"Hang tight! Free express delivery!" he grinned, before launching skyward.
He kept his speed controlled this time.
He had learned the hard way that civilians and supersonic flight did not mix well.
Still—
He couldn't help the muttering as he zigzagged back toward the triage zone.
"I barely got to punch anything… I mean, Patch was fun, sure—but that was a group thing. Didn't even see the final boss. Bakugo did? Of course he did. You'd think he's the main character or something…"
He dropped the couple off gently, offered a thumbs-up, and took off again.
From above, he spotted a high-class restaurant near the commercial district. Elegant exterior. Now split open by a massive slab of fallen arena debris embedded through its center like a cruel decoration.
Kuro's eyes lit up.
"Okay! Rescue mission number… I lost count!"
He dove—
—but a smooth sheet of ice shot across the ground before he could enter.
He skidded to a stop, boots scraping.
Shoto Todoroki stepped forward from the mist, one hand still pressed to a fractured wall. Frost crawled outward from his palm, stabilizing the structure instantly.
"I hear you," Todoroki said calmly. "To think Midoriya outperformed us in the decisive moment… unpleasant."
He shifted, flames blooming from his left side as he melted through a blocked exit with surgical precision.
"I'm glad Denki and Iida were invited," he continued evenly, stepping through the smoke, "but being left out of the climax feels… inefficient."
Kuro blinked.
"…You're mad."
"I am mildly dissatisfied," Todoroki corrected.
Which, from him, meant absolutely furious.
"They hog the glory," Kuro huffed as he ducked inside, hoisting two stunned waiters under his arms. "Then we get stuck with auxiliary work? Nah. I'm not holding this loss. Next villain shows up? Ours."
"Agreed."
Todoroki stepped back out moments later, an ice platform expanding beneath the remaining staff—about fifteen employees huddled together, shaken but intact.
He raised his left hand.
Flame erupted behind them, controlled and angled, transforming the sled into a hovering craft that lifted smoothly into the air.
They weren't sliding across the ground.
They were flying.
The fire side propelled them with steady bursts, keeping pace with Kuro's ground sprint easily.
The restaurant manager—a sharply dressed middle-aged man whose suit probably cost more than most cars—clutched the railing of the ice sled.
"I… I can't help but notice," he muttered shakily to his employees, "these two sound disappointed."
A younger waiter nodded nervously. "They seem upset they didn't risk their lives."
Kuro, sprinting alongside the hovering sled, overheard that.
He turned his head mid-run.
"Hey! We would've risked our lives! We didn't get the chance!"
Todoroki didn't look back, but a faint flicker of flame flared brighter behind him.
"Our classmates engaged a high-level combatant without informing us," he said coolly. "That will not happen again."
The employees exchanged glances.
One whispered, "I feel like two very polite supervillains are rescuing us."
Kuro laughed.
"Relax! We're heroes! Just competitive ones!"
They reached the triage zone quickly.
Kuro skidded to a stop, lowering the waiters carefully.
Todoroki descended the ice sled in a controlled glide, extinguishing the propulsion flame the moment they touched down.
Momo rushed forward immediately, directing civilians toward medical teams. Jirou's voice continued guiding the injured like a lighthouse beam through fog.
For a moment—
The two boys stood side by side, watching.
Smoke curled into the sky where the arena had fallen.
Somewhere beyond the haze, All Might had delivered his final blow.
But neither of them had seen it.
Kuro crossed his arms, looking up at the sky.
"…Next one's ours."
Todoroki's gaze remained forward, mismatched eyes reflecting the flashing emergency lights.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Next time, we end it."
Behind them, the restaurant manager exhaled shakily.
"…Remind me never to complain about service delays again."
And above the island, hidden behind drifting smoke and falling ash— someone prayed Seth wouldn't take a week to post a chapter.
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[Auther: Another chapter done...see ya tomorrow, I guess.]