The roar of the crowd still echoed in his ears long after he'd slipped away from the stadium's bright lights. Grey leaned against a nearby wall, heart hammering, adrenaline slowly ebbing from his veins. He had just alerted the heroes and it had worked.
He pulled his temporary press badge from his pocket and stared at it. It felt heavier now, charged with purpose. He had done more than observe. He had acted.
A hero someone in a bold, crimson costume had intercepted the cloaked figure moments later. From a safe distance, Grey watched as the villain was subdued. No dramatic explosion, no flashy Quirk fight. Just efficient, practiced hero work.
A hand touched his shoulder. He spun around, tense, only to see the sympathetic journalist who had helped him earlier. "You okay?" she asked softly. Her eyes flicked to the badge. "You gave a great tip. The agency's grateful."
He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Yeah… thanks." The words were hollow under the weight of what he'd done. He'd crossed a line.
She offered a small smile before slipping back into the press area. Grey exhaled and turned his gaze toward the stadium its silhouette glowing through the window. But before stepping away, his eyes caught the flicker of a TV screen in the corner, broadcasting the festival live: a sea of students on the field, and there, unmistakably, Midoriya Deku standing among them, determination in his eyes.
Grey's breath caught. Time seemed to slow. Then, softly, he whispered to himself, "So it finally begins."
The festival's energy was electric. Cheers roared through the stadium, vibrating through his chest like a war drum. Class 1‑A assembled for the second event, and Midnight's voice cut through the noise crisp, commanding, impossible to ignore as she laid out the rules of the Cavalry Battle. Teams of up to four one rider and three "horses" would fight for headbands worth millions of points. First place? A staggering ten million points. The stakes couldn't be higher.
Grey watched from the press area, map and notes clutched tightly in trembling hands. He'd studied the breakdown before, but seeing it live feeling the tension crackle in the air made it visceral. The headbands weren't just symbols; they were targets. The field had transformed into a battlefield.
Students surged forward, forming teams in a blur of motion. Some clustered around obvious frontrunners, others whispered strategy in tight huddles. Grey's breath caught as he spotted Team Midoriya take shape: Izuku, determination blazing in his eyes, flanked by Ochaco, the inventive Mei Hatsume, and the dark silhouette of Tokoyami. It was a fragile alliance brilliant, desperate, hopeful.
Then the horn blew. Chaos erupted.
Tetsutetsu's Quirk cracked the ground beneath him. Mei soared overhead, her jetpack sparking in the sun. Kyoka's Earphone Jack lashes sliced through the air, bouncing off Dark Shadow's protective form. Izuku darted forward, his desperation raw, his every movement powered by will.
Grey's heart hammered as he watched the spectacle unfold far more spectacular than any anime could capture. Sparks flew, dust rose, and every cheer felt like a promise of danger. This was a living, breathing world of Quirks and courage, and he was in the middle of it.
He edged closer to the sidelines, eyes scanning. Hero agency staff perched above, pro heroes in sharp costumes, cameras whirring. He adjusted his map in his mind rendezvous points, escape routes, blind spots. With every stolen headband, the battlefield shifted and so did the danger.
Team Midoriya and Team Todoroki clashed with ferocity that made Grey's pulse spike. Izuku's face contorted with resolve, sweat and grit shining on his brow. The spectacle was breathtaking and terrifying.
Grey stayed here, heart pounding, mind racing. Watching these moment. He was part of this world now, every second drawing him deeper into its chaos.
Back at his apartment that evening, Grey sat at his desk, illuminated by the glow of his laptop. He replayed the day's events in his mind: the fleeting glimpse of the villain, the hurried phone call, the hero's arrival. It had taken everything he had and more.
He opened a blank document and began typing:
"I don't know how long I can keep doing this."
He paused, recalling the email he'd sent to the hero agency. It wasn't just a warning; it was a declaration. This mail means that he had stepped into the world of heroes and villains, and for better or worse, he was already part of the story.
At that moment, the television in the corner flickered to life, and a news segment caught his eye. The screen showed highlights from the U.A. Sports Festival's opening day especially the intense duel between Izuku Midoriya and Shoto Todoroki.
The announcer's voice echoed in the small room, summarizing the emotional showdown:
"Midoriya endured grievous self-inflicted injuries breaking multiple fingers to withstand Todoroki's relentless ice attacks. With sheer determination and heartfelt words, he urged Todoroki to embrace his full power, shouting: "It's your Quirk. Not his."
This emotional plea pushed Todoroki to unleash his fire, culminating in a spectacular clash that almost destroyed the stadium. Though Todoroki won the match, the true victory was the emotional breakthrough he experienced.
Grey stared at the screen. The real world he inhabited mirrored the fiction he remembered but the stakes were far more tangible now. As Todoroki stood victorious, still shaken by the weight of his own power, Grey felt something shift inside him.
He closed the document and exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. He pressed his lips together, then spoke quietly to the empty room:
"Okay... everything will go smoothly, like today."
His voice sounded hopeful almost convincing. But—
The next day of the operation
The roar of cheers and festive music still echoed in his mind as Grey stepped into the corridor bright, orderly, and entirely disconnected from the chaos that would follow. Just moments ago, the Sports Festival had seemed like the perfect camouflage: a stage for heroism, competition, and distraction. Now, it was all gone.
Bright, flickering flames consumed the hallway. The heat was instantaneous, suffocating. Grey staggered back, eyes wide as he took in the horror around him. Civilians lay motionless on the ground, some showing no signs of life. Heroes in tattered costumes moved amid the carnage, their expressions a mix of shock.
Smoke coiled in the air, thick and acrid, making every breath a struggle. The fire crackled, painting the walls in an unholy glow. Grey's hands trembled as he pressed them against the cool surface of the corridor wall, searching for something anything familiar to hold onto.
"...How did this happen?"
His whisper was swallowed by the blaze.
Then, a familiar voice cut through the haze. The journalist who had helped him secure his temporary press credentials who had smiled and said: "Everything will be fine. The heroes will be there" laying collapsed against the scorched wall. Her eyes fluttered open, panic and realization flickering across her face.
"Grey…" she gasped, voice barely audible over the roar of the flames. She coughed, choking on smoke. "I thought heroes would protect us…"
Her hand weakly reached out, fingertips brushing his arm. He knelt beside her, heart pounding. Flames danced dangerously close, turning every second into a battle for survival.
Before he could respond, she exhaled and the light left her eyes.
Grey stared at her, frozen in shock. The world he'd tried to understand had just shown its darkest side. The heroes he believed in were not omnipotent. And now, the cost of being part of this world had become brutally clear.
He closed her eyes gently, the weight of her death pressing down on him. Outside, alarms wailed. Inside, fear and determination warred in his chest and turned to the hero standing a few feet away their costume singed, eyes wide with shock and sorrow.
"Why… didn't you stop it?" he demanded, voice trembling with grief and fury. "You could've… but why didn't you just kill them?"
The hero's expression faltered. For a moment, the roar of the flames and distant sirens seemed to pause.
They swallowed, voice tight. "Because… because heroes don't kill," they said, voice raw. "Even when it costs us everything."
The words rang hollow in the smoke-filled corridor, but they cut through Grey's fury like a blade. His vision blurred, emotions spiraling.
Grey stared at them, every emotion raw and exposed. Then, a bitter laugh escaped him small, sharp, almost hysterical.
"Right," he repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Heroes don't kill. Hum."