The common room of the Heights Alliance dorms was bathed in a warm, amber glow. The smell of jasmine tea and the low, comforting hum of a nearby vending machine created a rare pocket of normalcy. For a moment, it was easy to forget the drones patrolling the perimeter outside.
Izuku sat on the plush sofa, a steaming mug held between his hands, while Uraraka and Kaminari lounged in the adjacent armchairs.
"Man, internships," Kaminari groaned, stretching his arms over his head. "The list of agencies is huge. I'm still holding out for Mt. Lady. Can you imagine? I'd get to be the sidekick to a giantess. Think of it!" He chuckled, then his smile faltered slightly, turning nostalgic.
"Man... if Mineta were here, he'd probably be laughing his head off at that. Or, you know, being way weirder about it."
A brief, quiet shadow passed over the group. The empty chair in the classroom was still a fresh wound.
"He made his choice, Kaminari-kun," Uraraka said softly, swirling the tea in her cup. "But yeah... it's definitely quieter without him."
Trying to lift the mood, Izuku leaned forward, his eyes sparking with that familiar, analytical light. "Actually, Kaminari, I was thinking about your quirk. If you really want to grow, you shouldn't just look for popularity. You should look for someone like Fourth Kind. He's a stickler for discipline. You have so much raw power, but you struggle with precision and discharge control. A hero with a 'combat-manual' mindset would help you learn to use your electricity in concentrated bursts instead of just... well, frying your brain."
Kaminari blinked, looking impressed. "Whoa. Tactical. What about Uraraka?"
Izuku didn't even hesitate. "For Uraraka-san, I'd suggest Gunhead. You have a quirk that's great for utility, but you're vulnerable in close-quarters combat once people figure out your touch-range. Learning martial arts and 'CQC' would make you a nightmare for villains to deal with. You'd be a gravity-defying grappler."
Uraraka's eyes widened. "Gunhead... the Battle Hero? I hadn't even thought of him! That's... actually really smart, Deku-kun!" She paused, grinning. "Have you ever thought about being a quirk analyst expert? You're like a walking encyclopaedia."
Izuku smiled, a bit bashfully, his mind flashing back to his childhood room in Musutafu, filled with charred notebooks. "I did. I used to write everything down in notebooks, strengths, weaknesses, combo possibilities. I had thirteen volumes by the time I was fourteen."
"Do you still have them?" Kaminari asked. "I'd pay you to do one on me."
Izuku shook his head slowly, his expression turning more somber. "A hero I really respect saw them once. He complimented my dedication, but he warned me... he said if those books ever fell into the hands of a villain, they wouldn't be 'hero notes' anymore. they'd be a hit-list. A manual on how to kill every hero in the country."
The whimsical air in the room chilled. Kaminari and Uraraka both nodded, the weight of that reality sinking in.
"That's... terrifyingly true," Uraraka whispered.
"Don't worry," Izuku added, a small, secretive glint in his eye. "I still take notes. I just don't use paper anymore. Everything is stored in complex, encrypted computer code that I wrote myself. I use a multi-layered cypher based on obscure hero trivia and old dialects. Unless you're me, it just looks like corrupted data."
"Clever," Kaminari muttered. "Sneaky, but clever."
"Speaking of clever," Izuku said, looking around the common room. "I haven't seen Iida-kun since we got back. I know he's the class rep, but he hasn't even been in the common area for dinner. Is he still adjusting to the dorms?"
The silence that followed was heavy and sudden. Uraraka and Kaminari exchanged a look, one filled with a profound, aching pity.
"Izuku-kun..." Uraraka started, her voice barely a whisper. "Have you... have you not been online at all this week?"
Izuku rubbed the back of his neck. "I've had my notifications off. I have been... busy. Why? What happened?"
"It's Iida's brother," Kaminari said, his usual spark gone. "Tensei. The Turbo Hero: Ingenium. He was attacked in Hosu City. It was the Hero Killer, Stain."
Izuku felt the mug slip slightly in his grip. "Stain? How bad is it?"
"It's bad," Uraraka said, her eyes glistening. "He survived, but the report says he's paralyzed from the waist down. He... he may never walk again, Izuku. His career as a hero is over."
Izuku felt a cold, hollow vacuum open in his chest. Ingenium. He remembered Iida talking about his brother with such pride, the shining armor, the legacy of the Iida family, the hero who led sixty sidekicks. To have that taken away in a single, silent night in an alleyway...
"I can't imagine it," Izuku breathed. But as the words left his lips, he stopped.
He could imagine it.
He remembered the years of being quirkless, the feeling of standing on the outside of a dream, looking in through a glass wall he could never break. He knew the agony of being told your future was a closed door. But for Iida, it wasn't just a door closing; it was a ceiling collapsing.
"Why?" Izuku asked, his voice low and trembling. "Why would someone do that to a hero like Ingenium?"
"Because of his 'philosophy,'" Kaminari said, his jaw tightening. "Stain thinks the current hero society is fake. He thinks most heroes are just 'vultures' looking for fame and money. He says only 'True Heroes' like All Might deserve to live, and he's 'purging' everyone else to try and force society back to some old-school ideal. He's a lunatic, but... people are actually starting to listen to him online."
"Disgusting," Izuku spat. The word felt like lead in his mouth. He thought of the "Champion" name he had chosen, a name meant to stand for everyone. Stain's philosophy was the antithesis of that.
Izuku set his mug down on the table, the tea forgotten. He stood up, his green eyes burning with a sudden, sharp clarity.
"I have to go see him," Izuku said. "Iida is at the hospital in Hosu, right? I can't just sit here."
"The teachers might not let you leave campus, Deku-kun," Uraraka warned, reaching for his sleeve. "With the new rules..."
"Not even for an hour?" Izuku said, his voice ringing with a conviction that made them both fall silent. "Iida's our Representative. He's our friend. I don't think he should be on his own right now."
___
The blue light of the smartphone screen was the only thing illuminating Izuku's face in the dimness of the morning train. He stared at the chat history with Tenya Iida.
Izuku:Iida-kun, are you sure you're okay? We're all worried about you.
Izuku:I'm heading out for my internship now. I'll be near Hosu. If you need anything, please tell me.
The responses were curt. Stilted.
Iida:I am alright. Thank you for your concern. Focus on your training.
Izuku sighed, locking the screen. He knew that "alright" was a lie. He knew the weight of a brother's legacy being shattered, and he knew the dangerous silence that followed it. But for now, he was tethered to his own path. All Might had kept his promise by sending Izuku to the one man who had taught the Symbol of Peace everything he knew.
Izuku felt the weight of the new device strapped to his wrist, a sleek, matte-black bracelet designed by Nezu himself. It was a GPS tracker, a biometric monitor, and an emergency beacon all in one. A single firm tap would alert every pro-hero and student within a five-mile radius of his exact coordinates. It was a safety net that felt like a leash, a constant reminder that the school no longer trusted the world to leave its children alone.
The house on the outskirts of Hosu was unassuming, a bit weathered, and tucked away in a quiet district. When Izuku entered, he found an old man lying face-down in a pool of red liquid.
"AH! HE'S DEAD!" Izuku shrieked, his heart jumping into his throat.
"I'm alive... just spilled my sausage and ketchup," the old man grumbled, slowly picking himself up. This was Gran Torino. He looked like a retired grandfather, small, hunched, and a bit senile, until he moved.
In a blur of yellow and white, the old man was suddenly on the ceiling, then the wall, then inches from Izuku's face. His eyes were sharp, like a hawk's.
"Toshinori told me you were a bit of a crybaby, but you've got a decent frame," Gran Torino remarked, his voice cracking like dry parchment. He landed lightly on a stool, peering at Izuku. "He said you're controlling eight to ten percent without turning your bones into powder. Hmph. That idiot was all brawn and no brains, he treated the quirk like a sledgehammer. What about you?"
"All Might is... he's trying his best to teach me," Izuku said defensively.
"His best is a joke!" Gran Torino barked, though there was a glint of affection in the insult. "The man couldn't teach a dog to bark. He just did everything. He didn't have to think."
The old man's expression suddenly softened, the manic energy fading into something more somber. He leaned back, his eyes searching Izuku's. "So, Tell me, Ninth. Forget the training for a second. How has the journey been? Really?"
Izuku went quiet. He sat on a worn wooden chair, the weight of the last few months suddenly pressing down on him.
"It's been... painful," Izuku whispered. "And not the good kind of pain, the kind from working out. It's a constant dread. Every morning I walk into UA, I wonder if the alarm is going to go off. I see the empty desks. I see the blood on the grass in my dreams. Koji Koda is dead. Bakugo was... he was almost gone. I feel like I'm walking through a graveyard every day, and even if I wanted to run away, even if I wanted a normal life, I can't. Because of One For All. I'm tied to it. I'm tied to everyone who died for it."
Gran Torino didn't interrupt. He listened to the boy's voice crack, watching the way he gripped his knees until his knuckles turned white.
"I don't understand," Gran Torino said quietly, his voice unusually gentle. "I was a hero in a time of chaos, yes, but we didn't have commercial airliners being used as guillotines. I feel for your class, kid. I really do. You've been forced to skip the 'student' part and go straight to the 'soldier' part."
He stood up, walking to the window to look out at the Hosu skyline. "In my gut, I feel the dark times returning. It feels like society is looping back to the dark days before Toshinori became the Pillar. But it's worse now. Back then, quirks were simpler. Now? There are more people, more powers, and they're getting stronger. More volatile."
"The Quirk Singularity Theory," Izuku muttered.
Gran Torino turned, surprised. "You know of it?"
"I read a book," Izuku said, his analytical mind briefly taking over the trauma. "It was an old, banned text by Dr. Kyudai Garaki. The theory suggests that as quirks mix and evolve over generations, they will eventually become too powerful and complex for the human body to contain. The 'vessel' will fail. We're seeing it already, quirks that damage the user just by existing. If the League is finding ways to force that evolution, or if people like Yoshi Abara are 'awakening' post-death... it means the biological limit is breaking. We aren't just fighting villains anymore, we're fighting a structural collapse of humanity's power."
Izuku didn't even realize he spoke Yoshi's name, but he did assume that the old man knew of him.
Gran Torino stared at him for a long, silent beat. "Banned books, eh? Toshinori was right. You are a nerd." He gave a sharp, dry chuckle. "But an impressive one. You've got a better grasp of the 'big picture' than most of the Top Ten."
The old man checked his watch, his posture snapping back into a disciplined, military straightness.
"Pack your things, kid. We need to move. We're meeting Toshinori soon."
Izuku blinked, standing up. "Already? I thought he had meetings."
"He did. But he's cut them short," Gran Torino said, heading for the door. "He's found a lead on the men who were loitering around the Abara apartment. There is a lot we need to go over, and I want you in the room when we do. This isn't just a training exercise anymore, Midoriya. This is a hunt."
"Let's go," Izuku said.
___
The boardroom was bathed in the clinical glow of a dozen monitors, the hum of high-end servers providing a steady, vibrating pulse to the room. Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi stood at the head of the table, his trench coat draped over a chair, looking as though he hadn't slept since the USJ incident.
"Detective Tsukauchi," Izuku said, bowing respectfully as he entered with Gran Torino. "It's good to see you again. I... I wish it were under better circumstances."
Tsukauchi offered a tired but genuine smile. "Midoriya-kun. I remember you well from the USJ. You've grown quite a bit in a few short months." He glanced toward Toshinori, who sat in the shadows at the end of the table, his skeletal hands steepled.
"Let's get to it," Gran Torino grunted, hopping onto a chair. "The kid is on a clock."
Tsukauchi nodded and tapped a key on his laptop. The central screen flickered, displaying three high-resolution photographs of men in sharp, charcoal-black suits. They didn't look like villains, they looked like middle-management salarymen. Clean-shaven, short hair, neutral expressions.
"These are the men seen loitering around the Abara apartment in the weeks leading up to Yoshi's disappearance," Tsukauchi began. "We've identified them as former members of the Kuro-maku, the Black Curtain. They were a small, traditionalist Yakuza cell that operated out of Yokohama at first."
"Yakuza?" Izuku whispered, his mind racing. "But I thought... I thought their influence died out years ago."
"They did, for the most part," All Might said, his voice a low rumble. "When I started my career, the Yakuza were slowly fanning out. As Hero Society rose, they couldn't compete with the flashy, individualistic nature of modern villains. They were forced into the shadows, becoming remnants of a bygone era. Most turned into small-time protection rackets or dissolved into legitimate corporate shells."
"The Kuro-maku was one of those shells," Tsukauchi continued. "They dismantled almost exactly three months ago, the same week Yoshi Abara went missing. But here is the strange part, the members didn't just go into hiding. They died. In ways that suggest they were being 'cleaned up.'"
He swiped to the next slide, showing crime scene photos. Izuku felt his stomach churn.
"Hiroki Sato," Tsukauchi pointed to the first man. "Found in a submerged car in the Tokyo Bay. The cause of death wasn't drowning. His lungs were filled with dry, pressurized concrete dust. No water. Just dust."
He moved to the next. "Kenjiro Ito. Found in a locked hotel room. He died of extreme dehydration, despite being found sitting in a full bathtub with the shower still running. It's as if the water refused to touch him."
"And Takumi Abe," Tsukauchi finished. "Heart failure in a public park. It was a midsummer night, eighty degrees outside. When the paramedics found him, his internal body temperature was exactly zero degrees Celsius. He froze from the inside out."
The room went cold. Izuku looked at the images, then back at All Might. "These aren't just accidents. These are quirk-related executions."
"Exactly," Tsukauchi said. "Our speculation is recruitment. Yoshi was an orphan. His sister was gone. He was about to enter deep in debt to his landlord, Shigeo Kanemura. He was the perfect target for a Yakuza 'lure.' Although traditional groups like the Kuro-maku are notoriously xenophobic, they prefer their recruits to be strictly Japanese and human-looking. Yoshi, being half-Nigerian, would never have been a 'made man' in their eyes. But as a foot soldier? Someone disposable to run errands or take the fall for a crime? He was ideal."
"The Yakuza history is deep and bloody," Tsukauchi said, oblivious to the ghost. "They value 'Honour' and 'Order,' which are often just synonyms for 'Silence' and 'Control.' If Yoshi got caught involved with the Yakuza, he was walking through a minefield."
All Might stood up, his tall, gaunt frame casting a shadow over the maps and files. "It seems we've reached the limit of what paperwork can tell us for today. We have names, we have connections, but we lack the 'how' and the 'where.'"
He turned his gaze toward Izuku. "Young Midoriya, you've spent the morning in a boardroom. That's one facet of hero work, the investigative side. But a hero must also know the pulse of the city. I want to see how you handle yourself on the streets."
Izuku blinked. "Patrol? Now?"
"Yes," All Might said. "The Hero Killer has the local heroes on edge, and the atmosphere is thick with paranoia. Gran Torino will take you on a standard patrol route through the business district. I will be watching."
"You're coming with us?" Izuku asked, his eyes widening.
"From a distance," All Might clarified with a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "If the Symbol of Peace walks down the street right now, the patrol becomes a parade. I would just get in the way of your learning. I want to see how Champion interacts with the world when he thinks no one is looking."
"Go on, kid," Gran Torino barked, heading for the door. "Put your costume on. Let's see if that green spark of yours can actually navigate a sidewalk without causing a ten-car pileup."