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Blue Lock : The Spirit of The Greatest
One Piece: Sol Ragnarok
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The siren signaled the end of the fifth match, but the echo of black energy lingered in the air of Ground Gamma. The medical bots were already swarming around the unconscious Midoriya, lifting him onto a stretcher.
Aizawa stood on the observation deck, his expression unreadable. "Match suspended. Midoriya is incapacitated. The win goes to Class 1-A by default due to superior standing combatants, though it's a technicality."
Vlad King wiped sweat from his forehead. "That power... what was that? It didn't look like super-strength."
"A quirk singularity? Or an evolution?" Aizawa muttered, turning away from the window. "Either way, it's another headache."
Down on the field, the tension dissipated slowly. Monoma looked at his hands, still frustrated by the 'blank' he had drawn. Shinso stared at the spot where Akaza had stood; the memory of that terrifying grip on the black energy burned into his mind.
"Hey, newbie," Rumi said, walking past Shinso and slapping him hard on the back. "Not bad. You've got guts trying to brainwash Aki. Stupid, but gutsy."
Shinso rubbed his shoulder, wincing. "Thanks... I think."
Akaza didn't say anything. He just watched Izuku being carted away. He's growing.
Several Days Later
The winter chill had fully settled in. The trees on campus were bare, skeletal fingers scratching at the grey sky. Inside the main building, however, things were heating up.
"Interview practice?" Kaminari asked, tilting his head.
"Yes," Aizawa said, standing at the podium. "You have your licenses. You're doing work studies. The media will eventually find you. And when they do, you need to not look like idiots. Or villains." He glared at Bakugo.
"HAH?!" Bakugo barked.
"To help with this," Aizawa continued, ignoring him, "we have brought in special instructors."
The door slid open.
"Hello, U.A.!" Mt. Lady squeezed through the door, striking a pose, followed by Midnight.
"We're here to teach you how to work the camera!" Midnight announced with a crack of her whip. "Image is everything in this business!"
The class was split into groups. They had to stand in front of a mock press pit — played by Aizawa and the guest heroes — and answer questions regarding a hypothetical villain attack.
It went about as well as could be expected.
"Make a cool face!" Mt. Lady shouted at Shoto.
Shoto stared into the camera, his face completely blank. "I have saved the civilians."
"Too stiff! You're hot, use it! Smile!"
Shoto attempted a smile. It looked painful.
"Next!"
Bakugo stomped up to the podium.
"Mr. Ground Zero," Midnight asked, playing a reporter. "The villain caused significant property damage. What do you have to say to the residents?"
"THEY SHOULD BE GLAD I SAVED THEIR SORRY ASSES!" Bakugo roared into the mic. "BUILDINGS CAN BE REBUILT! SHUT UP AND PAY YOUR TAXES!"
"Zero points!" Midnight yelled. "You're terrifying! Try to be reassuring!"
"I AM REASSURING! I KILLED THE BAD GUY!"
Next was Izuku. He was vibrating with nerves.
"Deku! How did you defeat the villain?"
"W-Well!" Izuku stammered, looking directly into the lens. "I-I assessed the s-situation and... um... the structural integrity... and... uh... ALL MIGHT IS GREAT!"
"Too nervous!" Mt. Lady sighed. "You look like you're about to throw up."
Then, it was Akaza's turn.
He walked up to the podium, his hands in his pockets. He looked calm. Too calm.
"Hero Name: Asura," Midnight said, reading her clipboard. "There are reports that you used excessive force against the villain. Critics say your methods are too brutal. How do you respond?"
It was a loaded question, one that mirrored the real whispers circulating online about the Muscular incident. The class went silent.
Akaza looked at the camera. He didn't blink.
"The villain is neutralized," he said, his voice flat and even. "The civilians are alive. The threat is gone. My methods are efficient. If you want a show, go to a circus. If you want safety, call me."
He stared down the lens for a second longer, then turned and walked away.
"Cut!" Mt. Lady yelled. She looked at Midnight. "It's... intense. A bit scary. But... honestly? It kinda works. It's the 'bad boy' angle. The silent protector. The demographics will eat that up."
"It lacks charisma," Midnight critiqued. "But it commands respect. Better than screaming about taxes, at least."
Bakugo tch'd loudly from the back.
Gym Gamma - Evening
The sun had set, and the gym was bathed in artificial light. The class was wrapping up their personal training.
Izuku stood near a pile of cement blocks. He took a deep breath, focusing on the memory of the black energy. Not the fear of it, but the feeling. The core.
"Control," he whispered. "Lock it down. Use a tiny bit."
He extended his hand. One For All flickered at 8%.
Blackwhip.
A single, thin tendril of black energy shot from his knuckles. It wobbled, unstable, but it didn't lash out. It wrapped around a soda can sitting on a block ten feet away. Izuku grit his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. He pulled.
The can flew toward him. He caught it.
"I... I did it!" he gasped, the tendril dissipating.
"Sloppy," a voice said.
Izuku turned. Akaza, Rumi, Bakugo, and Shoto were standing nearby, taking a break from their own sparring session.
"It took you five seconds to manifest it," Akaza critiqued, walking over. "In a fight, you're dead three times over. And you telegraphed it."
"I'm still learning!" Izuku defended, clutching the soda can. "It's hard to control!"
"It's an extension of you," Akaza said. "Stop treating it like a separate entity. It's just another muscle. Flex it."
He turned back to his group. "Again."
The Big 4 resumed their training. It was a terrifying sight.
Bakugo was in the air, using his Meltdown heat to create distortions, making himself harder to hit while raining down precise shots. Shoto was sliding on ice rails, firing blasts of fire to cover Rumi's approach.
Rumi was a white blur, using Geppo to bounce off the air, her movements erratic and impossible to track. She launched herself at Akaza.
Akaza stood in the center, his eyes closed. Compass Needle was active. He wasn't using his shockwaves offensively. He was using his new technique.
Internal Kinetic Reinforcement.
As Rumi's heel came down for an axe kick, Akaza raised his forearm. He didn't brace. He vibrated.
THUD.
The sound was dull, heavy. Rumi bounced off his arm as if she'd hit a rubber wall made of steel. She flipped backward, landing on her feet.
"That shield is annoying!" she complained. "It kills all my momentum!"
"That's the point," Akaza smirked, opening his eyes. "Can't hurt what you can't impact."
"Hey!" Bakugo yelled, landing. "My turn. Try blocking this!"
He unleashed a focused AP Shot. Akaza shifted his stance, his body humming. The explosion hit him... and dispersed. The kinetic force was scattered across his entire skeletal structure and grounded instantly. He slid back a few inches, smoke rising from his arm, but he was unharmed.
"Monster," Shoto muttered, shaking his head.
Teacher's Lounge
Aizawa sat at his desk, grading papers. Or pretending to. He was staring at the class roster.
"They're growing fast," Vlad King said, pouring coffee. "Especially after the joint training. Class B is fired up, but Class A... they're on a different level."
"They've seen war," Aizawa muttered. "That changes you."
All Might sat on the sofa, looking at a photo of Izuku and Bakugo cleaning the dorms. "Young Midoriya unlocking the quirks of the predecessors... it is unprecedented. The power is evolving faster than we anticipated."
"And Asura," Nezu said from his desk, stacking chess pieces. "He is evolving, too. But in a different direction."
The teachers looked at the principal.
"He has fully embraced his role," Nezu said, his voice cheerful but his eyes sharp. "He isn't trying to be a symbol of peace. He is becoming a symbol of fear for the villains. A deterrent. It is... effective."
"It's dangerous," All Might whispered.
"It's necessary," Aizawa countered, closing his file. "We don't have the luxury of idealism anymore, All Might. The League is quiet. Too quiet. They're planning something. And when they strike, we need wolves, not sheepdogs."
HPSC Headquarters - Top Floor
The office of the President of the Hero Public Safety Commission was vast, cold, and overlooking the entire city.
Hawks leaned against the wall, looking bored. He was wearing his hero costume, his wings taking up a significant amount of space. He hated these meetings. The red tape, the bureaucracy, the fake smiles.
The heavy oak door opened. The President, a middle-aged woman with a sharp gaze and an air of absolute authority, walked in. She didn't look up from her tablet.
"You're late, Hawks."
"Traffic," Hawks drawled. "Saved a cat, signed a few babies. You know the drill. So, what's the gig? You sounded serious on the phone. Are we finally taking down the League?"
"We are accelerating our timeline," the President said, sitting behind her massive desk. "Your infiltration is yielding results, but it is too slow. The League is expanding. The Liberation Army is moving. We need a two-pronged approach."
She pressed a button on her desk.
"You have a new partner."
The shadows in the corner of the room seemed to deepen. The air grew heavy, charged with a faint, low-frequency hum.
Hawks' eyes narrowed. His feathers twitched, sensing a vibration he recognized.
A figure stepped out of the shadows.
He was tall, draped in a long, high-collared white coat with black accents that flared slightly as he moved. Beneath the coat, sleek, futuristic black armor covered his chest and legs, detailed with glowing blue circuitry that pulsed like a slow heartbeat.
His face was hidden behind a full, sleek black helmet adorned with sharp, curved horns that swept back like a crown of blades. A glowing blue visor cut across the faceplate.
Hawks just smiled, a sharp, knowing look in his golden eyes.
"Well," Hawks said. "If it isn't the ghost of Kamino."
The armored figure didn't speak. He just stood there, a silent sentinel.
"This is Dark," the President introduced, as if presenting a new weapon system. "He is an independent contractor working directly under my supervision. He does not exist on any database. He has no license, no record, and no rules."
She looked at Hawks. "Your role remains the same. You are the eyes. You infiltrate, you gather intel, you play the part of the disillusioned hero. You keep them comfortable."
She pointed a pen at Dark. "He is the sword. While you work from the inside, he will be dismantling their operations from the outside. Surgical strikes. Asset denial. Elimination of high-value targets that we cannot legally touch."
"I see," Hawks said, pushing off the wall and walking around the armored figure, inspecting him. "Good cop, bad cop. Except the bad cop is a walking tank."
He stopped in front of Dark. "You don't talk much, do you?"
"I speak when necessary," the synthesized, distorted voice boomed from the helmet. It sounded nothing like the student Hawks knew. It sounded like a machine.
"Right," Hawks laughed. "Efficient. I like it."
"He will accompany you tonight," the President ordered. "There is a warehouse in the harbor district. Suspected Nomu storage. You will guide him in. He will... handle the rest. Do not get in his way, Hawks."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Ma'am."
"Dismissed."
The two heroes walked out of the office. They moved down the pristine, white hallway in silence until they reached the elevator.
The doors closed, sealing them in.
The moment they were alone, Hawks' posture relaxed. He dropped the boredom, his expression sharpening into a smirk. He didn't look at the helmet. He looked straight ahead at the metal doors.
"Nice suit," Hawks said, his voice dropping the professional veneer. "Nezu really went all out on the budget, huh?"
Dark stood rigid, looking forward. "I don't know what you mean." The voice synthesizer was still on.
Hawks chuckled, shaking his head. He reached out and draped an arm casually around the armored shoulders of the most dangerous teenager in Japan.
"Come on, kid. You can't fool a bird." He tapped the side of the helmet. "I know that fighting style."
He leaned in close.
"Looking good, Akaza."
Dark turned his head slowly. The blue visor stared into Hawks' eyes. There was a pause, a moment where the lethal intent spiked, measuring the threat.
Then, the synthesizer clicked off.
"You're sharp, Hawks," Akaza's real voice came from inside the helmet, muffled but recognizable. "Keep it to yourself."
Hawks grinned, patting the armor. "My lips are sealed. Us black-ops types gotta stick together, right? Besides..."
The elevator dinged, opening to the lobby. Hawks stepped out, his wings spreading.
"It'll be nice to have someone watching my back who actually knows how to throw a punch."
Dark stepped out behind him, the synthesizer clicking back on.
"Understood," the robotic voice replied.
They walked out into the night, the Winged Hero and his shadow, ready to start a war the world would never see.
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