Chapter 14: USJ Part 1
Izuku's conversation with Aizawa and Kayama-sensei was quicker than he expected. Midnight had managed to sketch an accurate depiction of the intruder in just ten minutes—her efficiency was almost unsettling. The ease with which she had translated Izuku's descriptions into a lifelike image made him wonder how often she'd done this before.
With his part done, Izuku was sent back to class, walking alongside Aizawa-sensei.
The silence between them stretched.
Aizawa didn't seem bothered by it, but for Izuku, the quiet was anything but comfortable. His thoughts whirled with everything he'd seen—the disintegrated security gate, the villain in black, the document being taken. There were too many questions, and he couldn't just let them sit.
"Sensei," Izuku started, glancing up at the pro, "does this type of security breach happen often?"
Aizawa didn't break stride, but he did give Izuku a contemplative look—or at least, Izuku thought it was contemplative. It was hard to tell with the scarf obscuring most of his face.
Eventually, Aizawa muttered a response. "We haven't had a villain attempt to break into U.A. in a while. Before my time." He paused, voice lowering slightly. "That's what makes this situation concerning."
Izuku frowned. He'd figured as much—U.A. was the alma mater of All Might, after all. A villain would have to be exceptionally bold to try and infiltrate the school.
Still, something felt off.
"The press breaking in was one thing, but the villain I saw… they weren't part of the media crowd," Izuku said slowly. "They were looking for something."
Aizawa's expression remained unreadable.
"Midoriya, let me give you some advice," he said. "There's a difference between observing and overanalyzing."
Izuku blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Your Quirk gives you an advantage, but don't assume you'll always get the full picture," Aizawa continued. "You saw part of the truth—but not all of it. That's why we investigate before jumping to conclusions."
Izuku absorbed the words, nodding slowly.
He didn't have enough information to piece everything together, even if he had suspicions. That was frustrating, but it was something he'd have to accept.
His mind briefly flashed to the villain with the decayed hands and twisted grin. He had casually rummaged through faculty documents like he knew exactly what he was looking for. He had left so quickly as if he had already won.
What if he had?
Izuku clenched his fists.
This wasn't like a random attack or a publicity stunt—this was deliberate. Someone had planned this, which meant U.A. might be a target for something bigger.
Izuku wanted to ask more, but the weight of Aizawa's presence made him hesitate. He sensed that his teacher had already thought about all of this, and pressing him for more would be pushing past the limits of what Aizawa was willing to share.
This was above his pay grade.
He had been lucky to stumble upon the villain's trail. But it wasn't his job to figure it out in the grand scheme of things.
It was the heroes' job.
All he could do for now was prepare for whatever was coming next.
When Izuku and Aizawa reached the classroom, the atmosphere was lively with chatter. Conversations buzzed across the room, overlapping in excited bursts, each voice trying to outpace the others.
The hot topic of discussion? The media break-in.
Izuku deliberately kept his classmates in the dark about the true nature of the security breach. He didn't want to cause unnecessary panic. As far as they were concerned, the alarm had been triggered by overzealous reporters pushing past U.A.'s defenses.
Even so, nerves still ran high.
"What kind of school lets the press just waltz in like that?" Kaminari muttered, his arms crossed, as he leaned back in his chair.
"It was pretty intense," Sero agreed, resting his chin in his hand. "I mean, did you see how packed the entrance was? Felt like some kind of riot."
"Well, it's All Might's fault," Jiro pointed out dryly. "No offense, but the guy's kind of a walking media frenzy."
"No offense taken," Mina chimed in playfully, despite not being the one Jiro was addressing. "He is the Number One Hero, after all! You think anyone's just gonna ignore the fact that he's teaching here?"
Amidst the discussion, Hagakure sat on the edge of her seat, still rattled from earlier. Mina and Asui flanked her, fussing over her like protective siblings.
"We should've kept a closer eye on you," Asui said, concern evident in her tone.
"Yeah, girl! That crowd was brutal." Mina pouted. "Next time, we're forming a human shield around you."
Hagakure gave a nervous laugh. "I appreciate the concern, but it's fine! Just a few bruises."
Izuku watched the exchange, feeling a slight pang of guilt. He was glad Hagakure was okay, but the situation had been avoidable. The chaos of the evacuation had left students scattered and vulnerable—and if something like this happened again, they needed a better plan.
Before he could dwell on it further, movement at the front of the class caught his attention.
Yaoyorozu stood near the podium, raising a hand to get the class's attention. Her voice rang out, calm and confident.
"Everyone, please settle down. Class is starting."
Her firm but polite tone worked almost immediately. The chatter died down, and students turned their attention forward.
Izuku caught her gaze and gave her a slight nod of thanks. She returned it with an acknowledging smile before taking her seat.
Aizawa took his usual position at the podium, his apathetic gaze sweeping over the room as he ensured everyone was paying attention.
"Alright, listen up."
His tone was as dry as ever, but something made students instinctively straighten.
"For today's hero training, we'll have three instructors instead of the usual one. The class will be led by All Might, myself, and another hero from the faculty."
The reaction was instantaneous.
A wave of excitement rippled through the class, whispers and murmurs quickly turning into full-blown excitement.
"Three instructors?" Kaminari echoed, his eyes lighting up. "Wait, does that mean—"
"Do you think it's Endeavor?!" Sero cut in. "He's the Number Two Hero, right? What if he's the third instructor?"
"Wouldn't make sense," Jiro said, arms crossed. "Doubt U.A. would bring in someone that explosive for a regular class."
"I hope it's Hound Dog," Kirishima grinned. "That dude's hardcore."
Sero, who had raised his hand earlier, finally got a nod from Aizawa, allowing him to voice what everyone was thinking.
"What will we be doing differently this time around, Sensei?" he asked, brow furrowed.
Aizawa responded by reaching into the folds of his scarf and pulling out a stack of flashcards. One of them had bold blue lettering.
He flipped it around.
"Today's Heroics class will be focused on rescue. Disasters, shipwrecks, and everything in between."
Another wave of chatter erupted.
"Rescue, huh? Seems like today will be a breeze, then," Kaminari said casually to Mina.
Kirishima immediately scoffed. "Dude, take this seriously! Rescue work is the duty of every hero!" His eyes practically burned with enthusiasm. "I'm already feeling so pumped!"
Izuku couldn't help but smile at his friend's infectious energy.
"I'm best in the water," Asui added, her voice calm but eager. "I hope we get to train in a wet environment. Ribbit."
Despite the high energy in the room, their chatter was cut short by Aizawa's stern voice.
"Hey. I'm not done."
His cold tone sliced through the excitement like a blade, and the room immediately hushed.
Aizawa's red-rimmed eyes swept across them, ensuring they were listening before continuing.
"You can decide whether or not to wear your costume this time. Remember that in some situations, your costume might hinder your performance."
The classroom walls shifted mechanically as he spoke, revealing costume briefcases neatly stored in compartments.
"The training will take place off-campus, so we'll be taking a bus to the facility. That's all. Start getting ready."
With those final words, Aizawa turned on his heel and exited the classroom.
The moment he was gone, the room erupted into movement.
Students rushed to their assigned costume briefcases, excited whispers filling the air.
Izuku quickly joined the flurry of activity, grabbing his case and heading toward the changing rooms.
His costume had only required minor repairs after the last Heroics class. His armor plating held up well, and most of the damage had been cosmetic.
Still, there was a small note attached to the case.
The adhesive grenade attachment you requested is still pending approval. To gain clearance, you must attend an explosives-handling seminar after class.
That made sense. U.A. didn't play around when it came to dangerous equipment.
At least the letter from Kamihara-sensei confirmed he was cleared to carry his tanto.
Izuku was quicker at getting into his costume this time, managing to exit the locker room alongside Shinso, who had been eyeing his gear quietly. It wasn't hard to tell why—their aesthetics were similar, favoring function over flash, and it seemed like Shinso was considering adding similar utility items to his equipment.
"Let me know if you want to learn how to use some of these," Izuku said, tapping one of the pouches strapped to his belt. His tone was casual, but the offer was genuine.
Shinso glanced at him, his expression thoughtful, before nodding. "I might take you up on that."
As they approached the bus, Izuku noticed Iida standing near the entrance, arms crossed, looking deep in thought. The telltale furrow of his brows and the way his fingers twitched made it obvious—he was mentally drafting a seating plan.
Izuku clapped his hands, cutting in before Iida could begin one of his dramatic declarations.
"It's open seating, everyone," he announced, loud enough for the class to hear. "Sit wherever you want."
Iida visibly deflated at that, his shoulders slumping slightly. But to his credit, he didn't argue, instead adjusting his glasses with a resigned sigh.
With that settled, the students began filing in, chatting amongst themselves as they found seats.
Izuku, for his part, ended up sitting between Asui and Sato. He planned to listen amicably to the conversations around him, but that plan was quickly derailed.
"Midoriya…"
Asui's calm voice cut through the noise, making Izuku turn his head toward her.
"Oh, yes, Asui?" he responded, momentarily grateful for the distraction—Aoyama had been staring at him again, and he wasn't sure how long he could pretend not to notice.
"Call me Tsu," she corrected before tilting her head slightly. "You have an Ocular Quirk, like Aizawa-sensei—but you're also strong and fast. Ribbit. Can you explain how your Quirk works?"
The volume in the bus dipped slightly.
Had Izuku been paying closer attention to his surroundings, he might have noticed how Todoroki stiffened ever so slightly at the question.
"Oh boy, Tsu," Kirishima grinned, giving Izuku a playful nudge. "You've really opened the floodgates with that one."
Izuku let out an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, I tend to go into a lot of detail when I talk about my Quirk. Just ask Mina—she got the cliff notes version once."
"Yup!" Mina beamed, leaning in. "And it was still, like, a full-on lecture."
Yaoyorozu, who had been quietly listening until now, perked up at that.
"University lectures?" she asked, her interest piqued. "You've researched that extensively?"
Izuku nodded. "Yeah. I mean, my Quirk is... complicated. I've had to look up Ph.D. dissertations to try to make sense of some mechanics."
Yaoyorozu's eyes practically sparkled with intrigue, and Izuku had the distinct feeling that she would ask for sources later.
Still, he might as well explain with the bus now fully locked onto him.
"To start with, I'm what's considered a late bloomer when it comes to Quirk development," Izuku began. "Most kids develop their Quirks between the ages of three and five. I didn't develop mine until I was almost seven."
That made a few students blink in surprise.
"Seven?" Kaminari repeated. "Dude, that's really late."
"It is," Izuku agreed. "But some people don't develop their Quirks until their thirties."
"No way," Sero said, looking genuinely surprised. "That's a thing?"
Izuku nodded. "Yeah. Some studies suggest that late bloomers' Quirks develop differently due to mutations in the Quirk Factor gene. That often results in Quirks that are unique or completely unrelated to family lineage."
"Oh, that's fascinating," Yaoyorozu mused. "Then does that mean neither of your parents had an ocular Quirk, Midoriya?"
"That's right," Izuku confirmed. "My mom has a minor telekinesis Quirk—she can attract small objects toward herself. My dad was a fire-breather. And there's no record of anyone in my family having an ocular Quirk."
"That's kind of weird to think about," Tsu admitted. "I'd feel strange if I didn't have my family's Frog Quirk. Ribbit."
Izuku hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, I sometimes wonder what it'd be like to have either of my parents' Quirks."
Then, with a focused breath, he activated his Quirk.
His emerald left eye seemed to swirl into the pupil, leaving behind a red canvas painted by the swirling spinning of two tomoe that emerged from the pupil. Izuku's pale right eye sharpened, and the veins near it subtly bulged as water rushed to deliver the nutrients needed for it to handle its enhanced perception.
"As you can see," Izuku continued, his voice steady, "this is what my Quirk looks like when it's active. Each eye has a different function.
"My right eye, the Byakugan, gives me 360-degree vision, telescopic sight, and x-ray vision. I can see through solid objects, detect heat signatures, and, most importantly, observe how quirk energy moves through a person's body.
"My left eye, the Sharingan, gives me enhanced perception. Everything I see moves so slowly that it's basically precognition. I can predict movements, track objects at insane speeds, and anything I see gets permanently ingrained into my mental and muscle memory."
"Wait—" Jiro cut in, eyes narrowing. "Permanently?"
Izuku nodded. "Yep. If I see someone practicing a skill, it gets recorded perfectly in my mind. Barring no distinctly different physical changes to myself, I can perform the skill just as perfectly as them."
"Wait, wait, wait," Kaminari interjected, leaning forward. "You're saying that if you watched a dude who's been, I dunno, playing guitar for fifty years, you could just… copy his technique?"
Izuku nodded. "Pretty much, although it would only mean I would know how to play that one song - I'd still need to study up on music theory to figure out what he's actually doing"
"That's still insane, though."
The murmurs on the bus grew louder, and students digested the information.
"But that doesn't explain your strength and speed, does it?" Kaminari pointed out, frowning. "Your eyes don't make you punch harder."
Izuku chuckled. "Yeah, that's where things get a bit weird."
He tapped his temple. "According to some Quirk therapists, my Quirk shares traits with abilities that rely on emotional distress for growth. In particular, they theorize that intense emotional distress actually triggers an awakening."
"Awakening?" Iida echoed.
Izuku gestured toward his Sharingan. "When I first got my Quirk, I only had one tomoe. I also couldn't manipulate my quirk energy—which is what I do when I enhance my strength and speed.
"But after a particularly… intense sparring session with my sensei—and the stress of Kirishima moving away—my Quirk evolved. That's how I gained the second tomoe."
Eijiro scratched the back of his head, looking a little sheepish.
"I always figured it was a manly spar that pushed your Quirk further," he admitted.
Izuku grinned. "Well, you moving away was part of it, too."
"How else was I supposed to feel when my brother in all but blood was leaving?"
That got a few chuckles from their classmates.
From there, the conversation branched into other topics.
IIzuku eventually deactivated his Quirk, letting out a slow breath as his vision returned to normal. He leaned back in his seat, allowing the chatter of his classmates to wash over him. The conversation had naturally shifted from analyzing his abilities to a lighthearted debate over which student had the best Quirk for pro-hero work.
"I think Iida's Quirk is pretty solid," Sero argued, leaning forward. "Speed's always useful in rescue ops and combat."
"What about Jiro?" Mina chimed in. "Her sound attacks could totally work for search-and-rescue missions—sonar style!"
Izuku listened, adding his thoughts when prompted, though his mind was partially elsewhere. His gaze flicked toward the back of the bus, where Bakugo sat—arms crossed, expression brooding.
Unlike usual, the blonde hadn't blown up at anyone.
Well, mostly. Bakugo had only shouted once or twice—surprisingly, not at Izuku.
That in itself was odd.
Maybe that humbling I gave him finally decided to stick? Izuku thought before shaking his head with a small, wry smile. Nah. That's being way too optimistic.
Before he could dwell on it further, Aizawa's curt voice cut through the noise:
"We're here."
Conversation halted instantly, and all eyes turned toward the imposing structure ahead.
Looming in front of them was an impressive dome-shaped facility resting on the far edge of U.A.'s sprawling campus grounds. It was massive, easily rivaling some of the largest stadiums in the country, its sleek metallic surface gleaming under the midday sun. The structure's curved architecture, reinforced with thick support beams and layered plating, gave it an almost futuristic feel—a testament to U.A.'s cutting-edge training facilities for its students.
The bus rumbled to a slow stop, the engine humming as Izuku's gaze flickered toward the main gateway.
A towering set of double doors stood at the entrance; bold letters emblazoned across the top:
"UNFORESEEN SIMULATION JOINT."
Some of his classmates chattered excitedly, pointing at the building, but Izuku noticed that a few of them had utterly missed the signage.
Flanking the entrance were several large floodlights, likely meant to illuminate the facility for nighttime exercises. A high-security perimeter fence, similar in design to U.A.'s reinforced barriers, surrounded the facility. Surveillance cameras were positioned along the outer walls, their lenses sweeping the area with methodical precision.
Despite its immense size and heavy security, the U.S.J. felt… isolated. Unlike the bustling energy of the main campus, this area sat farther away, tucked into a quiet, almost eerie section of U.A.'s training grounds.
Even before stepping off the bus, Izuku had a feeling that this would be very different from their previous training sessions.
The doors hissed open, and the students filed out, stretching their legs as they saw the facility up close.
Then, standing near the entrance, a figure in black and white greeted them.
Pro Hero Thirteen.
Unlike the flashy, combat-heavy Pro Heroes most students idolized, Thirteen's presence differed.
The rescue hero wore a black-and-white space suit, complete with a reinforced collar and a full helmet. Her costume was modest, practical, and unmistakably functional. The helmet's visor was a deep, opaque black, completely obscuring her face, giving her an air of mystery yet lacking the intimidation factor seen in more battle-focused heroes.
And yet, despite their covered appearance, Thirteen carried an undeniable presence.
Where Aizawa exuded stern discipline, and All Might radiated booming confidence, Thirteen's energy was different. It was warm, reassuring, and steady—the kind of presence that made people feel safe.
Izuku had studied Thirteen's career before.
They weren't a hero who fought for glory or recognition. They weren't someone who stood at the frontlines to take down villains.
They were a hero who saved lives.
And yet, beneath that gentle demeanor, Izuku knew the true power Thirteen possessed.
Their Quirk, Black Hole, was one of the most devastating abilities in the hero world. With a simple motion, Thirteen could generate a miniature black hole capable of sucking in and disintegrating anything—matter, debris, even living beings.
It was a terrifying ability that could easily be used for destruction.
But Thirteen never did.
They wielded their Quirk precisely, using it only to clear rubble, create safe escape routes, and prevent further disasters.
In a way, they embodied the purest form of heroism.
A hero not defined by power—but by responsibility.
As the students gathered around, excitement and curiosity buzzed through the group. Even Bakugo, who had been relatively quiet, looked at Thirteen with analyzing eyes.
Perhaps the most significant reaction came from Uraraka, who practically had stars in her eyes as she stepped off the bus. Her face lit up with admiration, and her hands clenched into excited fists as she saw their instructor for the day.
"Thirteen…" she murmured, her voice filled with awe.
It was clear that Thirteen was the one who truly inspired her out of all the Pro Heroes they had met so far. And Izuku couldn't blame her. Thirteen was purely a rescue hero, unlike many other top-ranking heroes, who were known for their combat prowess. Someone who had built her reputation on saving lives instead of taking down villains.
Before she could gush any further, a cheerful voice cut through the mild chatter.
"Hello, future heroes!" Thirteen called out, her tone animated as she stretched her arms in welcome. "Let's go ahead and get inside! I'm looking forward to working with you all."
Uraraka visibly trembled in excitement, barely containing the urge to bounce on her feet. "This is gonna be the best training ever!" she whispered, clutching at her cheeks.
The students eagerly followed Thirteen and Aizawa into the facility, a mix of curiosity and anticipation in the air. Even Bakugo, while not openly displaying any excitement, stayed silent, which was about the closest thing to interest he ever showed.
But as impressive as the exterior was, it was nothing compared to what awaited them.
As soon as they stepped through the entrance, Izuku's breath hitched, his Byakugan activating instinctively as he took in the sheer scale of the facility.
The interior of the U.S.J. was massive, stretching far beyond what they had seen from the outside. It wasn't just a single disaster simulation—it was a collection of them carefully designed to replicate real-world emergency scenarios.
To the far left, a massive, deep-water lake stretched across one section, its surface shimmering beneath the artificial lighting. A lone, half-sunken ship sat in the middle of the lake. Chlorine scent lingered in the air, suggesting the water was specially treated for prolonged training sessions. Floating platforms and overturned boats bobbed near the edge, indicating that this area was meant for flood rescues or shipwreck scenarios.
Next to it, a charred, burning cityscape roared with controlled flames, the fire raging safely within its containment field. The air in that section rippled with heat, and even from this distance, Izuku could see fire-damaged buildings, collapsed structures, and crushed vehicles, simulating the aftermath of a devastating fire or explosion.
Further in, a mountainous terrain loomed, filled with jagged cliffs, rocky slopes, and unstable ledges that looked dangerously real. This area would undoubtedly test their ability to navigate treacherous landscapes, likely simulating earthquake aftermaths or landslides.
Other sections of the U.S.J. contained additional hazards—tornado wreckage zones, landslide simulations, and blizzard conditions, each meticulously crafted to put them in the shoes of rescue professionals.
At the center was a pavilion where all the paths to the different facilities met. This pavilion was a central point around which the disaster training facilities seemed to border.
The entrance to the U.S.J. was an observational platform, allowing visitors to get a good view of most of the facilities.
Izuku exhaled slowly, a mixture of excitement and apprehension curling in his chest.
Based on the gasps of amazement from his classmates, Izuku figured they were just as impressed by the facilities as he was. Even students who typically kept their cool—like Todoroki or Shoji—were looking around with genuine intrigue. The sheer scale and variety of the training grounds were unlike anything they had ever seen before.
"Shipwrecks, landslides, fires, windstorms, and more!" Thirteen announced proudly, stretching out her arms in a grand gesture toward the facility. The excitement in her voice was palpable as she motioned toward each simulated disaster. "It's a training ground that I designed to cover all kinds of accident and disaster scenarios! I call it the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, or U.S.J. for short! Not to be mistaken for Universal Studios Japan!"
A few students chuckled at the joke, while others remained too in awe of the facility to respond.
Despite Thirteen's enthusiasm, Aizawa-sensei remained as unimpressed as ever. He strolled forward, hands stuffed in his pockets, and shot the rescue hero a pointed look.
"Thirteen," he said, his gravelly voice cutting through the air, "where's All Might? He was supposed to meet us here."
At that, Thirteen leaned in, lowering her voice so only Aizawa could hear. Izuku strained his ears, but without his Byakugan active, he couldn't read her lips to make out the words. However, his sharp gaze didn't miss how Thirteen subtly lifted three fingers in response.
Three fingers? Izuku narrowed his eyes slightly. What does that mean?
Aizawa sighed heavily, rubbing his head before shrugging in resignation.
"It can't be helped," he muttered. "Let's go ahead and start."
Seizing the cue, Thirteen straightened up, her enthusiasm unshaken despite Aizawa's usual sour mood.
"Before we begin, there's something important I need to talk to you all about," she said, instantly regaining the class's attention. Though her voice remained light, her words had a new weight—an underlying seriousness that hadn't been there before.
She let the silence settle for a moment before speaking again.
"Everyone, I'm sure you all know my Quirk—Black Hole."
At that, Uraraka practically vibrated with excitement, nodding eagerly.
"Of course! You've saved so many people with it!" she chirped, her admiration for the rescue hero shining through.
Thirteen gave a slight nod, but instead of matching Uraraka's energy, her tone darkened.
"Yes… but you should never forget that my Quirk is also a power that can kill—very, very easily," Thirteen replied. Looking across the gathered students, she added," I wager some of you have that capability as well."
The air in the room changed instantly. The light atmosphere from before vanished, replaced with a sudden, unsettling tension. Several students shifted uneasily while others outright tensed at the bluntness of her words.
Izuku felt his stomach tighten slightly.
Yeah. No kidding.
Some? That was putting it lightly. Almost everyone in their class had a Quirk that could kill someone—either accidentally or intentionally. Even the more benign-sounding ones—like Jiro's sound-based Quirk or Sero's tape—could turn deadly in the wrong circumstances.
And judging by the wide-eyed, somewhat aghast expressions on some of his classmates, this was probably the first time many of them had seriously considered that. Privately, Izuku was glad that Kamihara-sensei had drilled the darker aspects of hero work into him from a young age. He wasn't as naive as some of the others. Uraraka, in particular, suddenly seemed to have stopped bouncing around and looked a bit green at the possibility that her favorite hero could kill.
Thirteen let the silence linger for just a moment before continuing.
"In our society, Quirks are regulated, and Pro Heroes undergo extensive training to use them safely," she said, her voice steady but firm. "But that doesn't change the fact that many Quirks—yours included—can take a life with just one wrong step."
The gravity of her words sank in. Even students who had been brimming with confidence moments ago now looked thoughtful, even troubled.
Izuku's gaze flickered toward Shinso. The usually indifferent teen had his arms crossed, but his fingers clenched slightly against his sleeve. Brainwashing was a powerful tool, but it wasn't hard to imagine how it could be abused.
Thirteen continued, pressing forward.
"Aizawa's Quirk Apprehension Test showed you the limits of your abilities. All Might's combat training forced you to experience the danger of using your powers against others. But today, we're focusing on something different."
She spread her arms as if embracing the entire facility.
"This training isn't about overcoming opponents—it's about saving lives. I want all of you to leave today with a new understanding: your powers aren't just for fighting."
A moment of silence followed before the entire class erupted into enthusiastic applause.
Izuku found himself grinning.
Thirteen's words resonated deeply with him. While many dreamed of being heroes who worked for glory, fame, and combat, he had always found something far more inspiring in the ability to help and protect.
He wasn't the only one. Yaoyorozu and Iida nodded approvingly while Asui's large eyes blinked with interest. Even Todoroki—usually passive—seemed to be contemplating her words.
As the applause died down, Aizawa finally pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against, stepping forward.
"All right then," he said, voice as dry as ever. "First up—"
He never got to finish.
The lights dimmed.
The power flickered.
And then—
A deep, eerie hum filled the facility as something warped in the air like reality itself was being torn apart.
Aizawa's posture shifted immediately—his body language changing from tired teacher to battle-ready Pro Hero in an instant.
His sharp eyes locked onto the center of the pavilion.
"Thirteen," he snapped, his voice cutting through the confused murmurs of the students. "Something's off. Gather the students and keep them safe."
The confusion only grew.
"What's going on?" Kaminari asked, looking around as the room grew darker.
Instinct kicked in, and Izuku's Byakugan activated as he turned his gaze to the pavilion.
His breath hitched.
A swirling, inky-black portal opened at the center of the facility. A horde of figures began stepping through, their twisted grins and menacing postures making it clear that these were not Pro Heroes.
Villains.
Dozens of them.
And standing at the very back, watching the chaos unfold with an almost lazy amusement, was a familiar figure—
Pale skin. Wild, unkempt hair. Black clothes. And those horrifying, decayed hands.
Izuku's blood ran cold.
"Sensei," he called out, his voice sharper than intended. "That's the intruder."
Aizawa didn't even hesitate. He gave a single, sharp nod—an unspoken confirmation that this was no longer just a lesson.
This was a real battle.
And the enemy had already made their move.
Chapter 15: USJ Part 2
Izuku tensed, every instinct screaming at him as the void of wrongness coalesced into a humanoid form. Even before his Byakugan fully processed the twisting, warped reality around them, he could feel it—something was fundamentally unnatural about these two.
The moment his vision adjusted, his stomach clenched.
Through his Byakugan, the flow of quirk energy had always followed a natural rhythm—bright, branching pathways coursing through the body, glowing in various shades of blue. Mutant Quirks, though more complex, still adhered to this fundamental truth of quirk biology. Their bodies, despite their physical differences, still looked human through his vision.
But these two were different.
The mist villain was a sickly, pulsating mass of unnatural energy. His pathways weren't blue at all, but a shifting, volatile mess of dark purple. The core of his energy wasn't spread throughout a body like a normal person's; it was coiled around his neck, almost as if that bracer-like armor was the only thing keeping him physically tethered to reality. The longer Izuku stared, the more he felt like he was looking at a fabricated existence—something that shouldn't be.
And then there was the brute.
Izuku's eyes flicked to the hulking mass of stitched-together flesh, and his breath hitched. His body didn't just contain quirk energy—it overflowed with it. An excess, an overabundance that no normal human should possess. It was like his body wasn't meant to hold so many quirks at once, and yet, somehow, it did. The flow of energy through his body was wrong, forced, like it was being pumped into him artificially.
His bones didn't align properly.
His muscles were too thick, too disproportionate, as if grafted on from different sources. The gaps in his skin, exposing patches of raw, corded muscle and bone, suggested that this thing—this brute—was something more assembled than born.
Izuku had seen mutants with extreme features before. Hell, Shoji and Tsu were clear examples of the diversity of quirk-based biology. But even the most inhuman of quirks still had a flow. A pattern.
This thing had none.
It was as if someone had taken pieces of different people, jammed them together, and forced their quirks to work in unison.
It was monstrous.
And when his gaze flicked back to the grinning, decayed hands of the villain standing between them, a sick realization crawled up his spine.
These weren't normal villains.
They were experiments. Aberrations of nature.
Izuku sucked in a breath, pulse hammering.
Desperately, he turned his gaze toward the rest of the enemy forces, half-expecting to find another aberrant, another unnatural quirk signature among the villains gathering in the plaza.
He scanned them—one by one—normal.
They were normal.
Not good, obviously, but human at least. The strange dark purple quirk pathways were nowhere to be seen among them.
Izuku let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
But the relief was short-lived.
All around him, the class was murmuring, confusion and unease settling into their ranks as Thirteen stepped forward, beginning to usher them away from the growing confrontation.
But Izuku wasn't done.
Aizawa-sensei needed to know.
"Aizawa-sensei—" Izuku's voice came out sharper than intended, his urgency overriding his usual instinct to speak carefully. His fists clenched as he forced himself to sound calm even as his brain screamed otherwise. "Watch that mist villain and the big brute. Something about the way their quirks work is wrong."
Aizawa's sharp eyes flicked toward him, the only visible reaction being a slight narrowing of his gaze. A heartbeat later, he gave a single nod.
Then, without hesitation, he launched himself into the fray.
Izuku's stomach churned as he watched his teacher disappear into the crowd of villains.
He knew Aizawa could handle himself.
But even so… something about this was different.
Something about this was so much worse.
Izuku shifted his attention to the pale-haired villain with the decayed hands, his stomach twisting into knots. He was speaking—muttering in a way that reminded Izuku of his own muttering storms, except this was different.
Where Izuku's muttering stemmed from a need to analyze, to understand, to solve—this man spoke like he wanted the world to rot.
Under normal circumstances, his words would have been muffled—hidden by the grotesque severed hand gripping his face. But Izuku's Byakugan cut through it like glass.
He read his lips perfectly.
"All Might's not here."
"So we kill the students instead."
Izuku's heart stopped.
His pulse surged in his ears as the words hit him like a freight train.
They weren't just here to cause destruction. They weren't just here for a fight.
They were here to kill All Might.
And if All Might wasn't here… then they would do the next best thing—slaughter his students to bring him running.
Izuku felt his throat dry up as his mind raced through the implications.
That must have been what was stolen earlier today—A teacher's schedule. They must have known All Might was going to be here. And now that he isn't…
His fingers darted toward his pocket, reaching for his phone, heart hammering against his ribs—only to freeze when he saw the screen.
No service.
Izuku's stomach plummeted.
That can't be right. U.A.'s security system should be sending trespasser alerts to the teachers right now.
Before he could speak, he caught Yaoyorozu's voice, sharp with urgency as she voiced the very same concern to Thirteen.
"Why isn't the security system activating?" she asked, her normally composed tone laced with unease.
"That's what I'd like to know," Thirteen murmured, her gloved hands subtly tightening into fists.
A heavy silence settled over the group as realization crept in.
It was Todoroki who finally broke it, his voice eerily calm but laced with steel.
"Whether the villains only showed up here or throughout the whole school, it doesn't matter," he said, folding his arms, his mismatched gaze sweeping over the enemy forces below. "With the trespasser sensors down, it means they have someone with a Quirk that can mess with them."
Thirteen seemed to stiffen at that.
Todoroki continued, his voice low but certain. "We're in an isolated part of campus, and they attacked during a scheduled class session. That's not a coincidence. This was planned." His gaze narrowed. "They may be fools—but they aren't dumb."
Izuku clenched his fists, feeling his breath come in shallow bursts.
Damn. They don't realize it yet. They haven't put together why the villains are really here.
He couldn't keep quiet. His classmates had to know about the type of danger they were dealing with.
"They're here for All Might," Izuku said, forcing his voice to be steady. His classmates turned to him, some blinking in confusion. He took a deep breath and continued, "I read the lips of the villain in black—the one standing at the back." His green eye flicked toward the pale-haired leader as a sick chill crept down his spine. "Since All Might isn't here, we're going to be used as bait."
A heavy silence.
Then—grim understanding settled over the group.
Uraraka's hands curled into fists. Iida's fingers twitched at his sides. Shinso's usually passive expression hardened into something sharper.
"They're trying to force All Might to come here," Izuku continued, voice grim but certain. "And they'll kill us to do it."
Yaoyorozu's face paled, but she squared her shoulders. "Then we need to evacuate immediately and find a way to raise the alarm."
Izuku nodded. But there was one more thing to check first.
His Byakugan scanned the class, flicking from face to face until his gaze settled on Kaminari.
Izuku's mind raced. Kaminari had a radio headset. If their phones weren't working, maybe his long-range support gear had a chance.
He took a quiet but urgent step toward the blonde.
"Kaminari," he whispered. "Any way you can contact the school with your headset?"
Kaminari blinked at him, startled, then quickly adjusted the earpiece. "Huh? Uh—yeah, let me—" His eyes suddenly widened. A sharp crackle of static blared into his ears, making him wince.
"Shit," he hissed. He adjusted the dial, pressing the earpiece closer. "I'm getting nothing but—damn it—I'll keep trying."
Izuku gave him a firm nod. "Good. Keep at it."
With that, he turned and fell into step behind Thirteen.
As he evacuated with the rest of the class, he kept up with what was happening down in the plaza. His Byakugan was helping him keep up with Eraserhead''s battle.
His teacher had already engaged the villains.
At first, Izuku had worried. The villains had him outnumbered nearly fifteen-to-one. Against those odds, any hero—no matter how skilled—would be overwhelmed.
But he shouldn't have worried.
Eraserhead moved like a wraith, his body flowing through the mass of villains with an almost unnatural efficiency. There was no wasted movement, no unnecessary strikes—only pure combat mastery.
The first villain lunged—a lean man with jagged teeth and razor-sharp claws—but Eraserhead's goggles gleamed, and his quirk was gone before he even realized it.
The villain's momentum stumbled mid-swing, his claws dulling back into human fingernails. His eyes barely had time to widen before Eraserhead's capture scarf lashed out like a striking viper, wrapping around his wrist.
Eraserhead yanked.
With a twist of his hips, he redirected the villain's own momentum, sending him flipping violently over Erasehead's shoulder and crashing headfirst into the pavement.
One down.
Izuku barely had time to process the smooth brutality of the takedown before three more villains charged in unison.
A woman with fire trailing from her palms, a hulking brute with stone-like skin, and a wiry man with daggers flashing between his fingers.
Izuku's Byakugan locked onto Eraserhead's eyes, as they gleamed to life again.
The fire wielder gasped in pure confusion as the flames in her hands flickered out, leaving her completely vulnerable.
Eraserhead was already on her.
A step in. A precise chop to the throat.
She crumpled, coughing violently, already out of the fight.
The hulking brute still had his raw physicality, but Eraserhead was three steps ahead.
The villain swung, a powerful hook that could shatter bones—
Eraserhead leaned back, letting it barely graze past his nose.
With a flick of his wrist, his capture scarf whipped out, wrapping around the brute's ankle.
Eraserhead yanked hard.
The brute's own weight worked against him. He toppled backward, his skull cracking against the pavement with a sickening thud.
The dagger-wielding villain hesitated.
Too late.
Eraserhead closed the distance in a heartbeat, slipping past his defenses with effortless ease.
A palm strike to the wrist.
Daggers clattered to the floor.
A knee to the gut.
The villain's breath exploded out of him.
Then a final, brutal elbow strike to the back of the head sent him crashing into unconsciousness.
Three more down.
Izuku gritted his teeth.
This isn't even a fight—it's a massacre.
More villains poured in, clearly panicking now, rushing Eraserhead all at once.
A massive beast-like mutant, a man with whip-like appendages, another with quills bristling from his arms.
Eraserhead didn't flinch.
He moved through them like water, weaving between attacks with almost inhuman grace. Despite these villains being Mutant types, of which Eraserhead coudln't erase with his quirk, his sensei seemed unbothered by the fact he was at such disadvantage.
The mutant's claws tore through the air—Eraserhead ducked, letting the villain's swipe pass inches above his head.
A kick to the knee.
The joint bent the wrong way, and the mutant howled in agony, collapsing.
The whip-user lashed out—Eraserhead sidestepped, grabbed the tendrils mid-strike, and with a savage twist of his body, used the villain's own attack to slam him face-first into the pavement.
The quill villain fired off a volley of spikes—Eraserhead snatched his scarf out of midair, the fabric wrapping around two spikes and flinging them back at the attacker.
The villain barely had time to yelp before his own quills embedded into his shoulder.
Another one down.
The remaining villains hesitated.
Eraserhead stood in the middle of a growing pile of unconscious enemies, his breath slow and even, as if he hadn't even exerted himself.
His goggles reflected their fear back at them.
For a split second, none of them dared to move.
Izuku could feel the shift.
They're starting to realize they're outmatched.
But that's when he saw it.
The pale-haired villain—the one still standing in the back, untouched.
Watching.
Waiting.
And next to him—
That brute.
That thing, with its stitched-together flesh and wrongness, still hadn't moved.
Izuku's heart clenched.
Why hasn't it moved?
A sick feeling crept up his spine as he realized—
Aizawa was winning too easily.
Was this planned?
They were letting him fight.
They were waiting for something.
Before Izuku could ponder on Aizawa's plight any longer, new movement in the plaza caught his attention. The mist villain was swirling, warping, and being sucked inwards…and emerging right in front of his escaping classmates.
And began to monologue.
I thought they only did that in the movies.
He was going on about killing All Might, so Izuku took the time to look him over again. It was obivous that bracer on his neck imposed a sort of stability on his form, and seemed like a major weakpoint to target.
Before Izuku could dwell on Aizawa's plight, a new movement in the plaza snagged his attention.
The mist villain was shifting.
The deep, inky darkness that made up its body began to churn, twisting and swirling in a way that defied physics. The formless mass collapsed inward, folding into itself as if being sucked into an unseen void.
And then—
It reappeared.
Izuku barely had time to react before the villain's swirling mist coalesced right in front of the escaping students.
Teleporter. Unknown maximum distance. Unknown maximum portal size. Fast with his portals. Originate from his mist. Whole body is mist when teleporting, this was how Izuku's mind was currently handling the new information in front of him.
He'd already seen the portal open once before, but, up close, it was impressive just how seamless the transition was between locations. It didn't have the typical constraints a quirk of his would have. Mass limitations? Size limitations? The mist villain could even decide whether or not to pass through his own portals based on Izuku's memory of the break-in. Only the portal had been present at the exit point.
The ultimate teleporation quirk? Or perhaps, quirks? There's no way a single quirk can accomplish all that without limitations. This mist villain seems to be able to set up those portals too quickly and the only downside I can see is that they need to originate from him.
As Izuku worked at getting his mind back on track, he noticed that the mist villain began to speak, despite his body not fully forming on this end of his portal.
Seriously? A monolgue? I thought they only did that in the movies.
The villain's tone was smooth, almost elegant, yet thick with arrogance, the kind that dripped from every syllable like venom from a blade.
As he spoke, the dark mist that composed his form churned, expanding outward like ink bleeding into water. The sheer fluidity of his movement was unnerving—he didn't shift or sway like a normal being, he billowed, stretched, twisted in ways that defied logic.
The temperature around them seemed to dip ever so slightly, as if the air itself recoiled from his presence. Shadows curled unnaturally at the edges of his mist, distorting under an unseen force, like space itself was bending in reaction to him.
"My, my… how disappointing," he purred, his voice saturated with condescension, echoing through the space with an unnatural resonance—too deep, too smooth, too precise. A voice that didn't just speak but imposed itself upon the air.
"To think that All Might entrusted the next generation to such… frail hands."
The mist thickened, dark tendrils reaching outward, curling as if testing the air. The movement wasn't random—it was deliberate, intelligent, predatory.
Then, the fog began to coalesce, shifting into the vague impression of a human form—but never quite committing to it. The faint glow of piercing yellow eyes flickered within the haze, gleaming with a chilling amusement.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he continued, his smooth, almost theatrical cadence remaining unnervingly steady, as if this was nothing more than a casual conversation.
"I am Kurogiri, a humble servant of the League of Villains."
The name hung in the air, heavy and deliberate, like a promise of violence yet to come.
The League of Villains?
Izuku's mind raced as even more information being presented.
A named organization! That means strucuture, leadership, planning, and funding. This isn't just some random gang—it's a real group
Kurogiri continued, his form shifting like restless smoke, coils of mist unraveling and reforming with a slow, calculated grace.
"Our goal is quite simple… We are here to kill All Might."
The words hit like a hammer.
A suffocating stillness fell over the students. The weight of that statement pressed against their chests, cold and heavy, like an unseen force had suddenly stolen the air from the room.
Izuku's hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms as his heart slammed against his ribs. He barely registered the stiffened shoulders, the shallow breaths, the sheer disbelief radiating from his classmates beside him.
Kurogiri drifted forward.
The movement wasn't rushed, wasn't aggressive—it was patient.
Like a predator drawing closer to cornered prey.
The creeping fog stretched unnervingly close, its tendrils licking at the edges of their group, closing in like an iron noose.
"But, unfortunately," Kurogiri mused, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of mocking amusement, "it appears he isn't here. A pity."
His mist swirled, coiling higher, thicker, as if savoring the moment.
"But no matter… We will simply send him a message."
The temperature seemed to plummet.
The mist twisted. Sharpened. Expanded.
Then—
It lunged.
A wave of darkness, swift and suffocating, rushed toward the students.
Izuku's breath caught.
His Sharingan flared, twisting reality into slow-motion clarity.
Izuku saw it all unfold—every detail frozen in time, every movement amplified.
Thirteen's palm lifted.
His stomach dropped.
No—
Black Hole was an incredibly powerful Quirk, capable of erasing anything caught in its pull. In almost any other scenario, Thirteen would have instantly turned the tide. A villain like Kurogiri, however, wasn't just a bad matchup—he was her perfect counter.
Izuku could already see the worst-case scenario playing out in his head.
If she activated her Quirk, Kurogiri could redirect the singularity.
A portal. A split-second opening. And then—
Izuku didn't let himself finish the thought.
Before she could unleash the vortex, he moved—stepping forward with practiced precision, reaching out, and gripping Thirteen's outstretched arm.
"Thirteen-sensei, watch your Quirk usage," he urged, his voice low but urgent. "With his portals, it could be turned against us."
She hesitated. Her fingers twitched.
A flicker of understanding flashed behind her visor. The hesitation saved her.
But before Izuku could exhale, movement from behind stole his focus.
Two figures shot past him.
Explosive momentum. A streak of orange. A blur of red.
"Damn it—!"
"DIE, YOU BASTARD!" Bakugo roared, launching himself straight at the villain.
Beside him, Eijiro surged forward, hands clenched into hardened fists.
"You really think we'd just roll over for you? That ain't manly at all!" Eijiro called, his voice brimming with confidence.
Izuku couldn't stop them in time.
A blinding explosion detonated against Kurogiri's mist-like form, sending ripples of force outward. The class instinctively shielded their eyes, flinching against the sudden shockwave.
For most of them, Kurogiri vanished in the blast.
But Izuku saw everything.
His Byakugan cut through the smoke, revealing the truth beneath the illusion.
That… did nothing.
Kurogiri hadn't moved. Hadn't recoiled. Hadn't even reacted.
The explosion passed through his mist-like body as though it were nothing more than a passing breeze. Kirishima's punch had been equally useless—hitting nothing but empty air.
Izuku's breath hitched.
No damage. No effect. Nothing at all. I can't even tell if he opened a portal to absorb the force of the explosion away from his bracer with how hard it is to tell what I'm seeing from his quirk pathways.
The smoke thinned, revealing Kurogiri's untouched form.
Not a single wisp of mist was out of place.
His yellow eyes gleamed, filled with something disturbingly close to amusement. A predator savoring the moment before the kill.
"My, my… That was quite a dangerous attack from a bunch of students," he mused, his smooth, polished voice dripping with condescension.
A soft chuckle curled through the air, light, casual—mocking.
"Then again," Kurogiri continued, as though he were merely indulging in polite conversation, "you are the cream of the crop, aren't you?"
Izuku's stomach twisted.
This wasn't a villain reveling in destruction.
This was something patient. Calculated. Unbothered.
Thirteen stepped forward, her usual calm splintering into something sharp.
"You two need to get back with the group—now!"
Bakugo growled, hands still sparking, his fury rolling off him in waves. Kirishima clenched his jaw, fists tight at his sides.
Izuku saw it in their postures—they didn't want to retreat.
But before they could argue, Kurogiri moved.
Not with the heavy, predictable weight of a physical body.
He stretched.
"Oh, don't worry, Thirteen."
His voice remained soft, but the promise it carried was anything but.
The mist billowed outward, thickening, crawling like living ink bleeding into reality.
"I've been instructed not to gut them like rats right away."
Izuku's blood turned to ice.
The air felt wrong, suffocating. Every hair on his body stood on end.
Kurogiri expanded.
His mist twisted, unfurled, its tendrils curling at the edges like smoke from an open wound.
"But instead…"
The shadows stretched—too fast, too deliberate.
"…we'll scatter them."
Then—
The mist lunged.
"…and torture them slowly."
The air shivered, charged with something dark. Twisted. Inescapable.
"It should be quite the enjoyable experience."
Izuku's heart slammed against his ribs.
He reacted on instinct, twisting to the side just in time to avoid one of the writhing tendrils. Too close. Too fast.
Someone screamed.
Through his sharpened vision, he saw bodies vanishing—one moment there, the next swallowed whole by the twisting void.
He barely had time to register Kirishima's desperate shout—Bakugo's furious explosion of sparks—before a second tendril shot toward him.
Too many tendrils.
Too many portals.
Too many chances to be caught.
He kicked back, twisting, forcing his body to move faster than instinct allowed. His feet barely touched the ground before a rip in space bloomed beneath him.
There was no warning.
No moment to adjust.
No time to even scream.
The air warped. Tilted.
Then—
Everything inverted.
The world snapped out of focus, like gravity had given up on holding him in place.
His stomach lurched.
His limbs flailed, grasping for anything—
But there was nothing.
Only the feeling of being flung violently forward.
The rush of cold air slamming against his body.
The moment of pure, uncontrollable weightlessness.
Then—
Light.
A sudden return of the sensation of warmth as he was removed from the cold place.
Izuku braced for impact.