[Third Person POV]
**Hosu City Streets**
"Where are the heroes?! Someone—anyone!"
The desperate scream cut through the chaos as a man in a business suit frantically jabbed at his phone, trying to reach the Hero Association emergency line while simultaneously attempting to unlock his car door with trembling fingers.
He never got the chance to do either.
A Nomu—this one smaller than some of its brethren but no less terrifying, with mottled gray skin and an exposed brain that pulsed with sickly light—tore the car door clean off its hinges with a shriek of tortured metal. The door spun through the air like a discarded toy before crashing into a storefront thirty meters away.
The man's phone clattered to the pavement, the emergency line still ringing uselessly as massive hands wrapped around his torso and yanked him from the vehicle.
He flew through the air in a graceless arc, his trajectory ending with a brutal impact against the asphalt. Something in his arm made a sound like a snapping branch—sharp, wet, wrong. Pain exploded through his nervous system, white-hot and all-consuming.
"HAAAWAAAWWW!"
The Nomu's roar was barely recognizable as anything that had once been human. It crouched low, muscles bunching beneath its mottled skin, preparing to launch itself at the downed man.
The businessman's mind went blank with terror. Every rational thought evaporated, replaced by pure animal panic. There was nothing he could do—no escape, no defense, no last-minute miracle.
So he did the only thing left. He closed his eyes.
'If I can't see it,' some desperate part of his brain whispered, 'maybe it won't be real. Maybe I'll wake up. Maybe—'
He kept his eyes squeezed shut and kept them shut.
And—FWOOOSH—
The sound of displaced air, followed immediately by—BOOM!
The ground shook beneath him, but the anticipated impact—claws tearing through flesh, teeth finding throat—never came.
Confused and terrified, the man slowly opened one eye. Then both eyes snapped wide.
The Nomu was gone—no, not gone. Embedded in the wall of a building fifteen meters away, its body creating a crater in the brick facade. Yellow electricity crackled across its motionless form, sparks dancing through the cracks in the wall like lightning trapped in stone.
And standing where the Nomu had been a moment before—standing between the businessman and certain death—was a figure in a red and yellow costume, electricity still flickering across his body like a living aura.
"Just as I expected," the kid hero said, his tone almost conversational despite the violence he'd just enacted. "These things don't have the regeneration that the USJ specimen had. A single hit with enough voltage scrambles their neural pathways completely. Makes them significantly easier to handle."
He turned to face the businessman, and despite the mask obscuring part of his face, his expression seemed almost apologetic.
"You alright, man?" The hero extended a hand to help him up. "Pretty rough night, huh? Anyway, I've got about twelve hundred other emergencies to handle, so—you should probably get somewhere to treat that arm. Hospital's two blocks north. Can you make it?"
The businessman nodded mutely, still too shocked to form words.
"Cool. Stay safe!"
The hero turned to leave.
"WAIT!"
The word burst from the businessman's throat before he could think about it. The kid hero paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
"Wait—who are you?!" The question came out desperate, needy. "I need to know who saved me!"
The hero's posture shifted slightly—something almost playful entering his stance.
"Me?" Even through the mask, the grin was audible. "I'm the fastest man alive."
Yellow lightning began crackling more intensely around his body.
"Call me Flash."
FWOOOSH—
He was gone, leaving only a lightning trail and ozone smell in his wake.
The businessman stood alone in the street, one arm hanging at an awkward angle, his car door lying in a demolished storefront, a Nomu-shaped crater decorating the building behind him, and absolutely no idea how to process what had just happened.
"...Flash?" he whispered to the empty air.
Hosu city was fragmenting. Nomu attacks scattered across seventeen different sectors simultaneously. Fires bloomed like deadly flowers. Structural collapses threatened entire blocks. The emergency services were overwhelmed—too many incidents, too few heroes, response times stretching from minutes into dangerous double-digits.
Heroes who'd been deployed—Endeavor, Mirko, dozens of others—were engaged with the more powerful specimens, the High-End variants that required sustained combat to bring down. The regular Pro Heroes were spread impossibly thin, trying to cover ground that required three times their numbers to patrol effectively.
And then something changed. The heroes fighting in the commercial district felt it first—a tremor, brief but distinct, followed by the sensation of static electricity raising the hair on their arms.
They turned, confused, and found themselves facing a figure that hadn't been there three seconds ago.
The costume was distinctive—red and yellow, with a lightning bolt emblazoned across the chest. The build was athletic but not bulky, optimized for speed rather than raw power. And the way he stood suggested someone who was perpetually about to move, like a photograph trying to capture lightning mid-strike.
Before any of them could speak—before they could ask who he was, what agency he represented, whether he had authorization to be here—he moved. Not moved but vanished.
What followed happened too fast for normal perception to track.
The Nomu that had been advancing on a group of civilian evacuees suddenly found itself face-down in the pavement, its brain sparking with residual electricity, motionless.
A second Nomu, preparing to bring a fist down on a fallen hero, was intercepted mid-swing—grabbed, redirected, and introduced to a wall at roughly the speed of sound.
A third, fourth, fifth—each one dropped with surgical precision, each encounter lasting less than a second, each strike placed with the kind of accuracy that suggested the attacker could see their nervous systems and was targeting specific nodes to ensure instant shutdown.
Within seconds, the immediate area around the heroes was clear and the mysterious speedster stopped directly in front of the group of stunned Pro Heroes, gave them a casual two-finger salute, and vanished again into the chaos.
"What—" one hero managed. "What was that?!"
"Did you see the symbol?" Another hero pointed at where the speedster had been.
Another hero—older, with years of street experience—was staring at the path of destruction the speedster had carved through the Nomu ranks. "He's not just fast. He's precise. Each strike targeted to disable instantly."
She shook her head slowly, something like respect coloring her voice.
"That kid just cleared what would have taken us twenty minutes of coordinated combat in few seconds."
...
[Denki's POV]
I moved through Hosu like electricity through a circuit—following paths of least resistance, jumping from crisis point to crisis point, my electrical sense mapping the city in real-time.
'Usually,' I thought, depositing another group of civilians at a police checkpoint before vanishing again, 'anime focuses on the handful of standout heroes—the top ten, the famous faces, the ones with merchandising deals. But there are hundreds of others out here. Average heroes with average Quirks, doing the work anyway.'
A hero with a strength-enhancement Quirk was struggling to lift a collapsed beam off a trapped family. I arrived, added my speed-enhanced strength to his effort, and had the family clear before he'd finished registering my presence.
'They're here,' I continued my internal monologue, already moving to the next emergency. 'Facing creatures designed to kill All Might, knowing they're outmatched, and they're doing it anyway because that's what heroes do.'
Another Nomu, terrorizing a group of teenagers outside a convenience store. I introduced its face to the pavement with enough force to crack the concrete in a five-meter radius.
'This is why I chose Rumi's agency over Nighteye's currently,' I realized, bouncing between buildings to gain a better vantage point. 'With Nighteye, I'd be stuck in office protocols, strategic planning. All important stuff, sure. But it wouldn't have put me here, on the ground when this incident happened, where I can actually make a difference in real-time.'
I saved a mother and her two children from a burning building, carried them through the structure at speeds that made the flames seem frozen, and deposited them with the fire rescue teams.
I was about to move to the next crisis point when a voice called out behind me. "Hey! Wait!"
I turned—probably too fast, given the way the Pro Hero flinched slightly—and found myself facing a man in a motorcycle-themed costume, his hero bike propped against a nearby wall.
"Thank you," he said, and there was genuine gratitude in his voice. "I know vigilantism is technically illegal, and by the book I should probably arrest you for unauthorized Quirk usage, but—" He gestured at the disabled Nomus, the saved civilians, the fires that had been prevented from spreading. "Without your help, we would have lost a lot more people tonight."
He actually bowed—a proper, respectful bow. "You have our gratitude."
I felt heat rise to my face, suddenly uncomfortable with the direct praise. "I'm not a vigilante. I'm interning with Mirko—this is technically supervised fieldwork. Very... loosely supervised. Like, she's somewhere in the city also fighting Nomus, so that counts, right?"
The hero straightened as a smile tugging at his lips despite the chaos. "Close enough for me. Stay safe out there, kid. And—" His expression grew more serious. "Whatever agency you end up with after graduation? They're going to be lucky to have you."
Before I could respond—before my teenage brain could formulate something appropriately humble and professional—my electrical sense suddenly screamed a warning.
My head snapped south, toward Hosu's business district.
BOOM!
The explosion lit up the night sky like a miniature sun—massive, violent, sending a column of dust and debris fountaining into the air between distant buildings.
'That's not a Nomu attack pattern,' I analyzed instantly. 'Too concentrated. Too much raw destructive power in a single location. That's either a High-End going all-out, or—'
"I have to go," I told the bike hero, already feeling electricity beginning to crackle across my body.
"Go," he replied immediately, understanding in his eyes. "We've got things handled here."
I nodded once, then vanished in a streak of yellow lightning.
...
[Third Person POV]
**Business District**
The air in Hosu's business sector was thick with smoke, soot, and the acrid smell of scorched concrete and burned flesh. Small fires still smoldered in various locations—the aftermath of Endeavor's methodical destruction of every Nomu that had made the mistake of entering his operational area.
The current Nomu—the last one in this sector—was still thrashing weakly in Endeavor's grip. The Number Two Hero held the creature by its neck with a single hand, lifting it completely off the ground as if it weighed nothing despite its obvious mass.
The Nomu's claws scraped uselessly against his forearm, its exposed brain pulsing frantically as its regeneration attempted to keep pace with the continuous fire damage.
It was failing.
"Burn," Endeavor said, his voice completely emotionless.
The flames erupted with focused intensity—concentrated heat that could melt steel in seconds, now directed entirely at the Nomu's head. Fire enveloped the creature's skull in an instant, searing through flesh, bone, and brain tissue before the thing could even manage a scream. The smell of burning spread quickly, acrid and nauseating.
The Nomu went limp.
Endeavor simply released his grip, letting the corpse drop to the pavement where it landed with a heavy thud, its charred skull cracking against the concrete. It joined three other similarly destroyed Nomu bodies scattered around the immediate area.
Silence settled for perhaps five seconds before being broken by approaching footsteps.
"Endeavor-san!" Burnin' called out, her distinctive green flaming hair dancing behind her as she rushed from between the downed Nomu corpses. Despite the intensity of the combat, she maintained her characteristic energy. "All sectors in this zone are clear! The remaining Nomus have been eliminated or driven off!"
Endeavor gave her a brief assessing look—checking for injuries more than acknowledging her report—before nodding curtly. "Come with me. The cleanup can be handled by the others."
"Understood!" Burnin' flashed a confident grin, clearly energized by the action despite the grim circumstances.
They'd taken perhaps four steps when—BOOOM!
The explosion was massive—powerful enough to shake the ground beneath their feet and send a violent column of dust, debris, and smoke erupting into the night sky from Hosu's southern zone, several blocks away.
Endeavor stopped immediately. His eyes narrowed, flames flickering more intensely across his shoulders as his analytical mind processed the implications. The direction, the magnitude, the timing—
"That's our next destination," he stated flatly.
Without waiting for acknowledgment, Endeavor launched himself forward, flames propelling him across the street with explosive force. Asphalt cracked under his feet as he accelerated, his hero costume billowing dramatically as he closed the distance toward the source of the disturbance.
Burnin' grinned with barely suppressed excitement before igniting her own flames more intensely and taking off after him, her laughter carrying through the smoke-filled air.
"Finally! Something interesting!"
Meanwhile, in another part of the area, Rumi was grinning as she tore through the battlefield—kicking Nomu left and right, calling them out as she smashed them into the ground.
"This is the best!" she shouted. "I'm glad I chose to be here!"
...
The narrow alley existed in its own pocket of reality—cut off from the chaos consuming the rest of Hosu by walls of brick and shadow and the particular quality of silence that comes before violence.
Iida Tenya was pinned to the filthy ground, his body held immobile by the blade of a worn katana that had pierced completely through his left arm and buried itself in the asphalt beneath. Blood spread slowly from the wound, staining his costume and the dirty pavement in equal measure.
His breath came in short, pained gasps. His mind raced between panic, pain, and the growing horror that he'd made a terrible mistake.
Stain stood above him, using his body weight to keep the blade—and therefore Iida—firmly pinned. His posture was casual, almost bored, as he gazed toward the alley's exit with dark, calculating eyes.
"Hmph." The sound was dismissive, irritated. "This whole chaos... that's his doing, isn't it? That man-child throwing his tantrum."
He clicked his tongue with a sharp sound of disgust. "Doesn't matter. I'll deal with him later. After I've finished what I came here to do."
With a sharp, practiced motion, Stain ripped the katana free from Iida's arm.
"AGH—!" The scream tore from Iida's throat before he could suppress it, his body writhing with pain that felt like it was setting every nerve ending on fire.
Before he could even think about trying to move—about activating his Quirk, about escaping—Stain slowly, deliberately, ran his tongue along the bloodied blade.
The effect was immediate.
Iida's body locked up completely, every muscle hardening like stone as the paralysis Quirk took hold. His eyes went wide with panic and fury, his mind still working even as his body refused every command he gave it.
Stain turned slightly, casting an almost casual glance at the boy frozen on the ground.
"First," he said, his voice carrying the patient tone of someone explaining something obvious to a child, "I'll deal with you. The brat who came to me playing hero without understanding what that word actually means."
Iida gritted his teeth, tears forming in the corners of his eyes—tears of frustration, pain, and the growing realization that he was about to die here. "Y-you..." he choked out, his voice barely functional. "You'll pay for what you did to my brother! He... he'll never be a hero again because of you! He was everything a hero should be, and you—"
Stain sighed, visibly impatient.
Iida tried to continue, emotion thick in his voice. "He was my hero... my example... the person I've spent my entire life trying to be worthy of—"
CLANG.
The tip of the katana embedded itself in the concrete centimeters from Iida's face, shattering the pavement with enough force to send chips of broken asphalt bouncing across his cheek.
"Shut up," Stain said, his voice low and cutting. "I don't have the patience for pathetic speeches about wounded pride tonight."
He pulled the weapon back slowly, raising it with deliberate, ominous intent.
"I'll just kill you now," he continued, studying the blade. "And then get on with the real work of my revenge against this rotten society."
The air in the alley seemed to freeze.
Until a green blur shot through the narrow space between the walls.
Stain's head snapped to the side—combat instincts honed through hundreds of encounters screaming warning—just as a fist wreathed in crackling green energy slammed toward his face.
He raised his hands to block at the absolute last possible instant—pure reflex and years of survival instinct more than conscious decision.
"DETROIT SMASH!"
The impact was devastating even partially blocked—the force sending the Hero Killer flying like a projectile down the length of the alley until he crashed into the back wall with enough violence to send cracks spider-webbing through the brick.
Midoriya Izuku landed in front of Iida, his feet planted firmly on the ground, his entire body trembling from the strain of using One For All at higher percentages than was probably wise for sustained periods.
"Iida-kun!" he said, breathing hard. "I came to save you!"
Iida stared at him, eyes wide with a mixture of shock, horror, and something that might have been despair. "M-Midoriya...?" His voice came out broken. "Why...? This has nothing to do with you... you shouldn't have—this is my fight—"
"What are you saying?!" Midoriya turned slightly, and despite his obvious exhaustion, his expression was fierce. "Of course it has to do with me! How could I just stand by while my friend was in danger?! What kind of hero—what kind of person—would that make me?!"
"Tsk... perfect."
The voice echoed from the back of the alley, cold and sharp. Then the rubble shifted.
Stain rose slowly from the impact crater, his body creaking, his face now covered in dust, blood, and the kind of fury that came from being genuinely surprised. The bandages that had partially covered his face were coming loose, falling away in strips.
"Another brat," he snarled, each word dripping with venom. "How many more will show up tonight to make this even more irritating than it already is?"
The wrappings covering his right eye slipped away completely, revealing both eyes now—red, burning with fanatical intensity that felt almost physical in its weight.
The air grew heavy with killing intent.
Midoriya shifted his stance, positioning himself more firmly between Stain and the paralyzed Iida.
Stain stared directly at him, and when he spoke again, his voice carried barely restrained rage.
"How many more brats—" he roared, the sound bouncing off the alley walls, "—will I have to carve through tonight?!"
...
[Midoriya's POV]
Stain's blade came at my throat like liquid mercury—smooth, fast, impossible to predict until it was almost too late.
I leaned back at the absolute last possible moment, feeling the cutting wind of the katana pass centimeters from my neck. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I could hear it in my ears.
'Don't stop moving. If I stop, I'm dead.'
Without giving him time to follow up, I leaped backward, landed lightly on the balls of my feet, crouched low—And exploded forward.
One For All surged through my legs at 10%, the green lightning crackling around my body as I launched toward the left wall. My feet made contact with the brick, momentum carrying me upward. I bounced to the right wall, then back to the left, building speed and height with each movement Gran Torino had drilled into me for three days straight.
In a perfect spin, I came down with a dropkick aimed at Stain's back, channeling 15% specifically into my legs for the impact.
"HAH!"
The impact connected—I felt it through my entire body—but Stain barely moved.
My eyes widened in disbelief as the Hero Killer merely slid forward a single step, his stance completely stable, absorbing the force of an attack that should have sent him flying.
'How is he—?!'
Stain twisted his torso in a sharp, economical motion, his katana already coming around in a slash aimed at my midsection.
Pure instinct took over.
I planted my hands on his shoulders, using his own body as leverage, and vaulted over him. My feet made contact with his head as I pushed off, launching myself upward.
I bounced from wall to wall again, gaining height and speed, the air tearing around me as I accelerated.
'Detroit—!'
I shot forward at 15%, my charged fist descending like a meteor toward his exposed back. But Stain moved.
Not away—past my attack, slipping through the angle of my punch with the kind of combat awareness that only came from hundreds of real fights. His counter-slash with the cleaver in his free hand caught my thigh before I could even process that I'd missed.
The pain was sharp and immediate.
I hit the ground hard, rolling several meters before crashing into the alley wall. Spots danced in my vision as I struggled to push myself up.
"What was that...?" I muttered, confused and rapidly cataloging everything I'd just witnessed. "How can he dodge attacks at 15%? That's—the speed should be too much for normal human reaction time, but he's reading my movements before I even commit to them."
'Combat experience,' I realized with growing dread. 'He's fought so many heroes that he understands how they move, how they think. He's not reacting to my speed—he's reacting to my intent, reading my body language before I even throw the punch.'
I tried to back up, putting myself between Stain and the still-paralyzed Iida while my mind raced through everything I knew.
My body suddenly locked up. Complete paralysis, every muscle going rigid simultaneously.
'No—!'
I watched helplessly as Stain slowly licked the blood from his cleaver blade, the realization hitting me too late.
'When he cut my thigh. He got my blood then. I was so focused on the pain and maintaining distance that I didn't think about—'
"The game ends here," Stain said, his voice low and impatient.
I tried to move—tried to do anything—but nothing responded. Not even a finger twitched.
'He needs blood contact. The paralysis activates when he ingests it. That's the key to his Quirk, but knowing that doesn't help me now when I can't move and—'
"This society is rotten," Stain continued, almost conversational despite the circumstances. "Fake heroes are everywhere, all of them. They wear the title but none of them understand what it actually means."
He studied me for a long moment, something calculating in his expression. "But maybe you... you're worth keeping alive. There's something genuine in your eyes."
He turned away from me, heading back toward Iida.
"DON'T!" The scream tore from my throat, desperate and raw. "DON'T TOUCH HIM!"
Stain raised his katana with practiced ease, the blade catching the dim light filtering into the alley.
"I'll just finish this quickly," he said, completely unmoved by my screaming. "Then I can return to my real work. To the vengeance this city deserves."
The blade began its descent—but a blast of flames erupted through the alley entrance.
Stain's reflexes were instantaneous, launching himself backward as fire passed through the space where he'd been standing a heartbeat before. The heat lit up the dirty brick walls, turning shadows into sharp relief.
My eyes went wide.
Standing at the alley entrance, shrouded in dissipating steam and smoldering embers, was Todoroki Shoto.
"Midoriya," he said, his voice carrying that characteristic serious tone. "Learn to write more well-organized emergency messages next time."
'He came. He actually came from my garbled location text!'
Todoroki's gaze swept the scene—taking in me frozen on the ground, Iida pinned and paralyzed, the blood, the general state of disaster that surrounded us. Then his eyes locked on Stain.
"You almost made me arrive too late," he said quietly, and there was something dangerous in that calm voice.
Iida's eyes widened, his paralyzed vocal cords managing a strangled sound. "T-Todoroki?! How did you—?!"
"Tsk..." Stain's voice cut through the moment, low and thick with irritation.
He kept his head slightly lowered, a shadow covering half his face in a way that made him look even more dangerous.
"Great..." he muttered, and despite the word, his tone suggested this was the opposite of great. "Another brat to ruin what was supposed to be a simple kill..."
"TODOROKI!" I screamed, ignoring how my frozen lungs made the shout feel like it was tearing something. "DON'T LET HIM CUT YOU! If—"
But Stain appeared in front of Todoroki like a shadow made solid and his blade already raised to carve through him.
Todoroki reacted instantly. His left side erupted in flames—a violent wave of heat that forced Stain to leap back in a quick retreat, the air visibly distorting around the inferno.
Without giving the villain time to recover, Todoroki stomped the ground.
Ice exploded upward and outward, covering the entire alley in seconds. The floor rose as massive pillars of ice emerged beneath me and Iida, lifting us carefully off the ground and away from immediate danger.
Stain jumped back again, his feet slipping slightly as ice spread across the ground like a living thing.
Then Todoroki switched to flames, launching a sustained burst that melted the ice beneath the pillars supporting me and Iida. We slid down the dissolving ice formations, landing near Todoroki who immediately positioned himself in front of us.
"You're not killing either of them," he stated, his voice carrying absolute conviction. "Not today while I'm here."
Stain snarled, his teeth clenched so hard I could hear it.
I managed to force words out despite my paralyzed state. "T-Todoroki-kun... be careful... getting cut..." Deep breath. "It paralyzes you... if he ingests your blood..."
Todoroki's eyebrow rose slightly in surprise. Even Stain looked momentarily taken aback that I'd figured out his Quirk's mechanism.
"I see," Todoroki murmured, already adjusting his tactical approach. "Then it's best to end this quickly before—"
CRACK—
The sound was like thunder compressed into a single instant.
Yellow lightning materialized in the alley—not traveling through it, but appearing as if reality had simply decided lightning belonged there now.
The streak of light resolved into a figure moving faster than any of us could properly track, and in the space between heartbeats—Stain was no longer standing.
He was pinned face-down into the ground, his body creating a massive crater in the alley floor, electricity crackling violently across his form. His eyes rolled back, consciousness fleeing in the face of voltage that would have killed a normal person instantly.
Silence...
Then Todoroki and I simultaneously turned our heads toward the source of the lightning, and—
'That electrical pattern. The way it moves. The distinctive yellow color—'
"Yo, guys."
The figure solidified as the electricity faded from his body, revealing the red and yellow costume with its distinctive lightning bolt emblem.
Kaminari Denki stood in the alley like he'd just arrived for a casual training session rather than the middle of a life-or-death confrontation.
"Seems like you're all pretty busy playing hero and dramatically confronting the villain," he said, his tone carrying that familiar sarcastic edge. "So I took the liberty of getting that injured Pro Hero to the hospital—you know, the one who was literally dying of blood loss right there—" he gestured to where we'd completely forgotten about Native in all the chaos, "—and then came back to provide backup."
He glanced down at Stain's unconscious form, tilted his head thoughtfully, then looked back at us with exaggerated confusion.
"Wow, what happened here? Who managed to defeat the infamous Hero Killer so completely that he's doing a perfect impression of unconscious Yamcha? That's actually impressive."
Todoroki's expression went completely deadpan. "Really, Kaminari?"
Kaminari's grin was absolutely unrepentant. "Sorry, sorry! I'm just trying to lighten the mood after all that dramatic tension. You guys were getting way too serious."
He moved toward us, his expression shifting to something more genuinely concerned as he crouched beside me. "How are you holding up, Midoriya? That's a nasty cut on your thigh."
"I-I'm okay," I managed. "Paralyzed, but okay. His Quirk—"
"Yeah, I caught that part." Kaminari moved to check on Iida next, and I saw his expression tighten slightly at the extent of Iida's injuries. "Hey, Iida. We're going to have a serious talk later about the difference between justice and revenge, but for now—" He stood up smoothly. "I'm taking you to the hospital. You're in no condition to be lying in a dirty alley."
"Kaminari-kun, wait—" I started.
"No waiting," he interrupted cheerfully. "Medical attention is time-sensitive. Todoroki, you good to handle things here until the Pros arrive?"
"Obviously," Todoroki replied.
"Cool. See you guys in a bit!"
Yellow lightning erupted around Kaminari and Iida simultaneously, and then they were gone—vanished in a streak of light that left afterimages on my retinas.
I stared at the empty space where they'd been.
"He just..." I started.
"Saved all of us, defeated Stain instantly, evacuated the most critically injured, and left before we could even properly thank him," Todoroki finished. "Yes. That's very characteristic of Kaminari."
We both looked down at the unconscious Hero Killer, still sparking with residual electricity.
"How much do you think he was holding back during the Sports Festival?" I asked quietly.
Todoroki was silent for a long moment. "...I don't want to think about it."
...
[Denki's POV]
I deposited Iida at a hospital in a quieter district—far from the Nomu attacks, properly staffed, with emergency services that weren't currently overwhelmed by the chaos in central Hosu.
The doctors took one look at his injuries and immediately rushed him into emergency treatment. I gave them a rapid-fire explanation of the situation (Some villain attack, blade through the arm, definitely going to need surgery, no I can't stay for paperwork I have to get back), ignored their protests about proper procedure, and vanished before anyone could try to make me fill out forms.
'Iida's safe. Native's safe. Midoriya and Todoroki can handle themselves until backup arrives. Time to check on the larger situation.'
I ran back toward central Hosu, my electrical sense mapping the city as I moved. The Nomu presence was diminishing—either eliminated or driven off by the concentrated hero response. The fires were being contained. Civilian casualties, while present, were significantly lower than they would have been without intervention.
'Not perfect. But better than the original timeline. That counts for something.'
I arrived back at the alley to find that the situation had evolved considerably in my absence.
Stain was now properly restrained—some kind of specialized restraint that even a Pro Hero would have trouble breaking—and was being loaded into an armored transport van under heavy guard. He was still unconscious, which was probably for the best given how unhinged he'd seemed.
Rumi was there, looking bored with the cleanup process but perking up slightly when she spotted me. Gran Torino stood nearby and his expression is unreadable. Endeavor was present as well, his flames dimmed but still flickering across his shoulders, his attention fixed on... me, actually.
'Why is he staring at me like that? It's unsettling. Stop it, man. I'm not into uncles.'
Todoroki and Midoriya were off to one side, being checked over by emergency medical personnel. Both were giving statements to police officers, though they kept glancing my direction.
The officer coordinating everything—Kenji Tsuragamae, the dog-faced police chief I recognized from my meta-knowledge—was currently addressing the group.
"Now then," he said in a professional tone but carrying weight, "we need to establish who was responsible for subduing the Hero Killer."
Every single person in the area turned to look at me simultaneously.
'Well, that's not uncomfortable at all.'
"Where have you been?" Rumi spoke up before anyone else could. "I've been looking for you around this area since we split up to cover more ground."
'Oh, she's playing this perfectly. Establishing that I was operating under her supervision rather than going rogue.'
Kenji asked Rumi directly. "So he's your intern? You didn't inform him about the restrictions on Quirk usage?"
Rumi explained to him that I had activated my quirk under her supervision, and then we separated to cover more ground. But it was clear he wasn't buying that explanation.
"You broke the law," Kenji stated, his gaze sweeping across me, Midoriya, Todoroki, and the absent Iida. "Unauthorized Quirk usage in public, vigilante action, engaging a known dangerous criminal without proper authorization—"
"No," Midoriya interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. "I also acted without thinking. I should have looked for a Pro Hero first instead of charging in alone. This is on me."
"I'm partly responsible too," Todoroki added from the side, his expression serious. "I made the decision to respond to Midoriya's distress signal without alerting proper authorities first."
Kenji's attention finally settled fully on me. "And what about you? Don't you have anything to say?"
The others had been apologetic, contrite, acknowledging their violations of protocol.
I considered that approach for approximately half a second. "Nah, I'm good," I said casually.
Rumi snorted, barely suppressing a laugh.
"You're... good?" Kenji repeated, his expression suggesting he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "You have nothing to apologize for?"
"Yeah, no. There's no point in saying sorry when I know I'll probably do the exact same thing again if someone's in danger." I shrugged. "I mean, that's what heroes are supposed to do, right? Save people who need saving?"
I met his gaze steadily. "Feel free to blame me or punish me if you want—that's your choice, and I can't change it. Just like you can't really change what I'll do in situations like this." I paused. "Heroes save people. That's the job. Everything else is just paperwork."
It was risky speaking so bluntly to a police officer, but I needed to maintain my position. I doubted they'd escalate things further; this would likely remain contained, just like in the original timeline.
Rumi whistled appreciatively. "Way to go, kid. I'm proud to have you as my intern."
"That's not something to be proud of!" Kenji protested. "You're encouraging his disrespect for proper—"
"Alright, that's enough," Gran Torino cut in, his voice carrying surprising authority for someone his size. "You can lecture them about protocol later. Right now, let's focus on the fact that these kids prevented multiple deaths tonight and captured one of the most dangerous villain currently operating in Japan."
He fixed Kenji with a look. "You want to write them up for breaking rules? Fine. Do it later. But don't pretend their actions weren't necessary."
Kenji sighed heavily, clearly recognizing he was outnumbered. "Fine. But understand—officially, you cannot take credit for this capture. You're not licensed heroes. The credit will go to the Pro Heroes who responded to the scene."
"I know that," I replied.
"Since Kaminari was operating under my supervision," Rumi interjected, "I can take official credit if it makes your paperwork easier. Though honestly, do whatever you want with it. I'm bored and want to leave."
"You can't just—" Kenji started.
"Investigation over?" Rumi asked pointedly. "Because if we're done here, my intern and I have other places to be."
The police chief looked like he wanted to argue further, but ultimately just made a frustrated gesture of dismissal.
I caught Midoriya's eye as we prepared to leave. He gave me a small, grateful smile. Todoroki offered a brief nod of acknowledgment.
But as I turned to follow Rumi, I felt someone's gaze boring into my back.
I glanced over my shoulder and found Endeavor still staring at me with that intense, analytical expression. Like he was trying to solve a puzzle I represented.
'That's... probably fine. Maybe. Hopefully he's not planning anything weird.'
Gran Torino caught my eye as well, giving me a subtle nod that somehow conveyed both approval and a warning to be careful.
'Fair enough, old man. Message received.'
Once we were clear of the police cordon and official eyes, Rumi stretched languidly before turning to me with that familiar wild grin.
"So," she said. "That was fun. Want to head home at full speed?"
'She wants me to carry her again. Of course she does.'
"I'm not your personal transportation service," I pointed out.
"Sure you are. You're fast, I'm heavy enough to be good resistance training, and it's way more efficient than taking the train." She hopped onto my back without waiting for permission, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and her legs around my waist. "Besides, you held back all night. I want to see your actual top speed."
"You're asking me to go all-out?" I clarified, electricity already beginning to crackle around my body. "With you on my back? Through city streets?"
"Yep!" She sounded delighted by the prospect. "Show me what the Sports Festival champion can really do when he stops playing nice!"
'This is dangerous and irresponsible and probably violates multiple traffic laws and—'
I grinned, electricity crackling more intensely in my eyes. "Hold on tight, Rumi. You asked for this."
"THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!"
I moved and the world compressed into a streak of yellow lightning as I pushed my speed to its limits—not quite Mach 5 (that would be genuinely dangerous in an urban area), but faster than I'd gone with a passenger before.
Buildings blurred into abstract shapes. The wind roared. Rumi's laughter carried over the sound of displaced air, wild and joyous.
'Yeah,' I thought, grinning despite the concentration required to navigate at these speeds. 'All in all, this turned out pretty well. People saved, villain captured, friends safe, and I even got to make a dramatic entrance. Not bad for a night's work.'
The yellow lightning streak that was us vanished into the Hosu night, leaving only ozone and fading laughter in our wake.
...
[Third Person POV]
**Police Cordon**
After the speedster and his mentor had vanished into the night, the remaining heroes and police stood in somewhat awkward silence.
Todoroki was the first to speak, "Kaminari held back significantly during the Sports Festival."
"Obviously," Midoriya agreed, though his expression was troubled. "The speed he demonstrated tonight was... I don't think any of us actually understood how fast he could move until we saw it in a real combat situation."
Gran Torino made a thoughtful sound. "That boy's got good instincts." Though he didn't show it, he was clearly intrigued. The boy in question was the one who had taught Midoriya to manage his strength properly.
Endeavor had been silent throughout this exchange and Gran Torino just smiled mysteriously.
Then Endeavor simply turned and walked away, flames trailing behind him as he headed toward the transport vehicle.
Todoroki and Midoriya exchanged glances.
Midoriya said quietly. "How are any of us supposed to keep up?"
"We train hard, that's the only thing we can do," Todoroki replied, watching the direction the lightning streak had vanished. "In that way, we can get strong enough that we don't embarrass ourselves by comparison before we can keep up with him."
"...That's going to take a lot of training."
"Yes," Todoroki agreed. "It is."