Chapter 7
THREE MONTHS AFTER CLASSES STARTED…
The chattering was endless.
Tomura Shigaraki stood among the small crowd gathered near the UA High gates, his hoodie pulled low over his face. The summer heat made the fabric stick uncomfortably to his skin, but it was better than drawing attention.
Tomura's daily walks had become a ritual of sorts - staying just close enough to UA University to observe, but far enough to avoid their security measures. Kurogiri had spent weeks mapping out the camera locations, grumbling the entire time about unnecessary risks.
"This is an itch I need to scratch," Tomura had told him, and Kurogiri knew better than to argue further. There was something satisfying about walking these streets, watching the institution that churned out his enemies.
Here, in these hallowed halls, they shaped their precious heroes - and here, he would tear it all down.
His fingers twitched in his pockets as he listened to their mindless prattle.
"Did you see Present Mic on his morning show? My daughter loves him - says she wants to be just like him when she grows up!"
"Pfft, Midnight's the real star. Have you seen her latest rescue footage? Pure class!"
"Yeah, but nobody beats Eraserhead when it comes to practical hero work. Did you hear he's teaching at UA University now too?"
The urge to silence them crawled up Tomura's neck like insects. His fingers found their way to his skin, scratching, scratching.
Five points of contact.
That's all it would take.
Just five fingers, and their meaningless chatter would crumble to dust.
CONTROL YOURSELF. YOU ARE BETTER THAN THIS BASE INSTINCT.
The command rang through his memories, his Master's voice cutting through the fog of violence. Tomura's hand trembled as fragments of his past surfaced - small hands covered in dust, a dog's collar with no dog, a woman's face crumbling away. His Master had taught him to harness that pain, to transform it into something greater than mere destruction.
"Remember what happened to them. To her," he had said. "Channel that rage where it belongs."
In his mind's eye, he saw it clearly - UA University crumbling beneath his touch, walls cascading down like dominoes. Heroes scrambling to save their precious students, only to disintegrate at his fingertips. Civilians fleeing in terror, their screams a symphony of chaos.
Tomura could almost feel it, the concrete turning to ash beneath his feet as he climbed higher, reaching the top of the rubble mountain he'd created. A monument to destruction. His masterpiece.
The fantasy was intoxicating. His fingers twitched with anticipation, the itch growing stronger, more demanding -
His phone buzzed. A message from Kurogiri:
"Drop made. Behind Kiyashi Market, usual spot."
The interruption soured his mood, but it grounded him. There were steps to follow. A plan. The itch would have to wait.
As he walked through the backstreets, Tomura's thoughts drifted to their mysterious informant. He'd never met the mole - his Master's careful planning at work - but for their sake, the intelligence better be worth the investment. Failure wasn't an option. He'd take particular pleasure in watching another fraud crumble between his fingers.
The market's service alley was deserted this time of day, the dumpsters creating convenient shadows.
Behind a loose brick in the wall, he found what he was looking for - the latest issue of "Rising Stars," UA University's student paper.
The irony wasn't lost on him: their pride made them predictable. Every issue was a roadmap to their training methods, their schedules, their weaknesses - all wrapped up in glossy pages and self-congratulatory prose.
Tomura thumbed through the pages, jaw clenching at the headlines.
"Class 1-A's Rising Talents!"
"Future Pro Heroes: A Look Inside UA University's Elite Program!"
"Student Spotlight: Innovation in Quirk Development!"
Tomura's eyes scanned frantically for any mention of All Might, but found nothing. Again. Every few weeks, this same ritual. Every few weeks, this same disappointment.
A photo spread about UA's new training facilities caught his eye - or rather, something in it did. Among the pristine equipment and staged poses, there was an oddly candid shot: a green-haired kid with an awkward laugh, surrounded by classmates, facing off against a scowling blonde with violent red eyes.
Tomura's gaze lingered on the image longer than he intended before he turned the page with a click of his tongue.
The paper crinkled in his grip. These children, playing at being heroes in their pristine campus, celebrated before they'd even earned their licenses.
How many of them would wash out? How many would end up as sidekicks, their dreams of glory crushed by reality?
Page after page of researcher interviews, student achievements, innovations in Quirk studies - all meaningless without information about All Might.
Kurogiri's words echoed in his head:
"Master would want you to be observant. The smallest detail could reveal our enemies' weaknesses."
Tomura clicked his tongue in irritation. What was there to observe? Every page just screamed to be destroyed. Every smiling face begged to be turned to dust. He didn't want to study them - he wanted to end them.
But Master's methods had gotten them this far. The mole. The intelligence. The waiting. Soon enough, they'd show their weaknesses. And when they did, he'd make sure the symbol of peace wasn't around to save them.
THAT DAY, HOURS LATER…
The classroom door slid open with enough force to make several students jump, the sound cutting through their usual morning chatter. Aizawa shuffled in, looking more disheveled than usual as he pushed a cart loaded with metallic briefcases.
But it wasn't their homeroom teacher's entrance that caused the sudden hush falling over Class 1-A.
"Good morning, future heroes!"
Midnight sauntered in behind him, her hero costume hugging every curve as she strutted to the front of the room. The R-Rated Hero lived up to her reputation, her presence commanding attention in ways that had nothing to do with heroics.
Several students suddenly found their textbooks fascinating, while others couldn't seem to remember how to blink.
"Sweet merciful - " Sero's eyes went wide before a massive hand clamped over his mouth.
"Keep it together, man," Satou whispered, though his own cheeks had reddened noticeably. He cast a worried glance at Mineta, who seemed to be having trouble breathing. "Hey, you okay? Need some sugar to calm down?"
"I think I've died and gone to heaven," Mineta managed between wheezes, eyes nearly popping out of his head. "Did you see the way she - "
Satou's other hand gently but firmly turned Mineta's head toward the front of the room.
"Focus on the briefcases," he muttered, though he couldn't quite hide his own flustered expression. "Just... look at the briefcases."
"Is it getting hot in here?" Kaminari tugged at his collar, electricity crackling slightly in his hair.
"Dude, you're literally sparking," Jirou jabbed him with one of her jacks, though her own face was slightly pink.
From his seat, Izuku noticed even Todoroki seemed affected, a thin layer of frost forming on his right side while steam rose from his left. The usually composed Yaoyorozu cleared her throat and adjusted her already perfect posture, while Iida's hands chopped the air with even more vigor than usual, as if trying to dispel certain thoughts through sheer motion.
"If you're all done," Aizawa's voice carried its usual exhausted irritation. His capture weapon writhed slightly as he spoke, making several students sit up straighter.
"During enrollment, you submitted hero costume designs with your applications." He gestured to the cart with a resigned sigh. "They're ready."
The energy in the room transformed instantly.
Even Todoroki, who typically regarded everything with cold indifference, lifted his head with interest. Yaoyorozu began reviewing what looked like technical specifications, while Kaminari practically vibrated with excitement.
"Finally!" Ashido bounced in her seat, her black and gold eyes sparkling. "I've been dying to see how mine turned out!"
"This is gonna be so manly!" Kirishima pumped his fist, his sharp teeth gleaming.
Satou reached into his pocket, pulling out what looked like a small candy bar. "Been saving this for a special occasion," he grinned, breaking it in half and offering a piece to Sero. "Sugar rush to celebrate?"
In his seat, Izuku's hands tightened on his desk.
The costume design he'd submitted – it had gone through countless iterations in his notebooks over the years. Each detail carefully considered, inspired by heroes he'd studied. Even after discovering his Quirk, he'd kept most of the original elements, though he'd made subtle modifications to accommodate both his Sharingan and One For All. Now it wasn't just sketches anymore. It was real.
"Form a line," Aizawa droned, already looking like he regretted this entire process. "When I call your name - "
"FUCK YEAH!" Bakugo exploded out of his seat, small detonations crackling in his palms. "Time to show these extras what a real hero looks like!"
"Sit. Down."
Aizawa's eyes flashed crimson, his hair rising ominously. Bakugo dropped back into his chair with a scowl, though the hungry grin never left his face.
"As I was saying," Aizawa continued once order was restored, "collect your case when called. Then - " his tired expression gained an edge that made several students swallow nervously, " - we'll be testing them. Live combat scenarios."
The excited murmurs turned anxious. Izuku felt his stomach twist.
Combat scenarios?
His eyes darted around the room - Uraraka biting her lip but looking determined, Iida already taking rapid notes about proper costume maintenance, Satou cracking his knuckles with a nervous smile.
"Oh, this is going to be fun!" Midnight's laugh echoed through the suddenly tense room. "Nothing reveals a hero's true character like their first real fight!"
"Plus," she added with a wink that made Mineta collapse back in his chair, "it's always exciting seeing how students interpret their hero personas through costume design."
Aizawa picked up the first briefcase, checking its label with exaggerated weariness.
"Aoyama..."
As his classmates began collecting their cases one by one, Izuku's mind raced with possibilities. His Quirk was still new, its abilities not fully mapped. In a real fight, against his classmates' diverse Quirks... His hand unconsciously touched his face, just below his eye.
The ancient presence stirred within him, eager for combat, but Izuku pushed it down. He'd have to be careful.
Very careful.
"Midoriya."
Izuku started at Aizawa's call, nearly tripping as he hurried forward. As he took his case, its weight felt significant - not just physically, but symbolically.
This wasn't just a costume. It was the first step toward becoming the kind of hero he'd always dreamed of being.
"Hurry up," Aizawa grumbled. "Satou, you're next."
Satou stepped forward, his usual friendly demeanor showing through despite his obvious excitement.
"Man, I can't wait to see how they handled the reinforced elements for my Sugar Rush," he grinned, accepting his case. "The support department must've had fun with all our weird requirements, huh?"
Izuku couldn't help but smile at his classmate's enthusiasm. They were all taking their first real steps toward becoming heroes, each in their own way. Even Bakugo's aggressive impatience seemed more anticipatory than angry.
But as Izuku returned to his seat, briefcase clutched carefully to his chest, he couldn't shake a feeling of unease. Combat scenarios meant his classmates would see his abilities - both of them - in action.
And something told him that once they did, nothing would be quite the same.
AROUND THE SAME TIME…
The bell above the bar's hidden entrance chimed softly as Tomura slipped inside, having doubled back twice to ensure no one had followed him. The newspaper was crumpled in his fist, pages wrinkled beyond repair. Stale air and dim lighting greeted him - a welcome change from the oppressive summer heat outside.
"Welcome back," Kurogiri's misty form solidified behind the counter, already reaching for a glass. "I trust the retrieval went smoothly?"
Tomura scratched at his neck, dropping onto a barstool. His other hand slammed the crumpled newspaper onto the counter.
"Why are we waiting?" The words came out in a hiss.
"I could tear down half their precious university before they even knew what was happening. Start with the dorms, maybe. Watch them scramble like ants when their sanctuary crumbles - "
The itch intensified, spreading from his neck to his chest. With trembling fingers, Tomura reached for one of the severed hands he kept close, pressing it against his face.
The familiar sensation washed over him - a twisted comfort, each discolored finger a reminder of his purpose.
This hand, preserved in its decay, brought an odd sense of calm. He know who this belonged to at the back of his head, locked in the deepest recesses of his mind. Only the itched remained, now abated by the fingers' sensation.
The scratching slowed, but the anger remained, simmering beneath his skin.
Kurogiri's yellow eyes dimmed slightly, his misty form exhaling what might have been a sigh.
"We've been through this, Tomura," he said, his tone carrying the weight of countless similar conversations. He set a drink in front of his charge, the glass frosted with condensation.
"Even Master, with all his power, was forced to retreat into the shadows. The Pro Heroes don't just control the streets - they control how people think, what they believe is right and wrong."
His mist swirled slowly, deliberately.
"Master could have razed cities, turned their precious moral order into ashes. But he understood that to truly destroy something, you must first understand how it works. We have to rot their institution from within before we can tear it down completely."
The glass in his hands caught the dim light as he polished it.
"Only then can we return the world to what it should be - a place where power isn't masked by false righteousness. Where destruction and hatred flow freely, as nature intended. But first, we must be patient."
Tomura's eyes rolled behind the hand clasped to his face. The same sermon, always the same. He could practically mouth the words along with Kurogiri at this point - every time the itch became unbearable, every time for the past few months he suggested simply reducing UA to rubble.
But Master had assigned Kurogiri to him for a reason. The misty bastard was meant to help build his empire of fear, so Tomura would endure these tedious lectures.
For now.
"Savoring," he spat the word like poison, though his grip on the hand against his face loosened slightly.
"I'm tired of watching. Observing. Reading their pathetic little school paper." His fingers drummed against the glass, not quite making contact. "Every day they parade around, playing at being heroes - "
"And every day," Kurogiri cut in, his tone measured but firm, "we gather more intelligence. Learn their patterns. Their weaknesses." He gestured to the crumpled newspaper. "Their pride makes them predictable. When the time comes, you won't just damage UA - you'll obliterate it. And everyone will watch, powerless to stop you."
Tomura's scratching slowed.
"You sound like Master."
"Because I was there," Kurogiri's form seemed to darken, memories shifting through his misty substance. "I watched him build and destroy, build and destroy. Each failure taught him something new. Each setback made him stronger."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Do you know why he chose you, Tomura Shigaraki?"
The hand on Tomura's face twitched. Something cold crept into his voice. "To destroy everything."
"No."
Tomura's eyes snapped to meet Kurogiri's. He hasn't expected this kind of retort. Kurogiri's response was unusually sharp.
"Any villain can destroy. But you…" Tomura felt Kurogiri intentionally slow down, to pace himself, "You understand the fundamental rot beneath their heroic smiles. You've felt it since you were a child. Master saw that in you. The potential to not just destroy their world, but to make them question everything they believe in."
Tomura's red eyes fixed on Kurogiri, his fingers unconsciously moving to his neck again.
"And these stupid papers? These reconnaissance missions?"
"Are teaching you to see beyond mere destruction. Notice how they structure their classes, how they pair their students, how they train their next generation."
Kurogiri's mist condensed slightly, becoming more focused. In the yellow eyes beneath the void of the smoke surrounding his head, Tomura sensed… nostalgia.
"Every detail is a weapon, Tomura. Master didn't just teach you how to destroy - he taught you to understand what you're destroying. That's what makes you different from common thugs who just want to watch things burn."
The silence that followed was heavy. Tomura's hand finally left his neck, reaching for the glass.
"And what if - " he paused, considering his words carefully, "what if I find something interesting in all this... observation?"
Kurogiri's yellow eyes gleamed. "Then Master's lessons are finally taking root."
"Because Master understands the value of patience." Kurogiri began wiping down glasses, a habit that seemed more human than necessary for his form. "This isn't punishment, Tomura. This is preparation. The greater the anticipation, the sweeter the victory."
The promise in those words was almost enough to quiet the constant itch beneath his skin.
Almost.
Tomura lifted the glass with practiced care - four fingers only, never five.
"And our little spy? Any sign they might crack under pressure?"
"They know the consequences of failure." Kurogiri's form darkened slightly. "As do we all."
Tomura took a sip, letting the cool liquid ease his throat. The itch remained, but it was duller now. Manageable. He could wait. He would wait.
After all, what was destruction without an audience to appreciate it?
AN HOUR LATER…
The boys' locker room buzzed with excitement as cases clicked open and costumes emerged. Izuku held his breath as he lifted the lid of his own case, the support department's meticulous packaging crinkling under his fingers.
"Man, they really went all out with the reinforced material!" Satou grinned, flexing his arms in his new costume's sleeves. The yellow jumpsuit looked simple at first glance, but closer inspection revealed sophisticated reinforcement across stress points where his Sugar Rush Quirk would affect his muscles most. "Should hold up even when I bulk up now."
"Looks solid," Ojiro nodded approvingly, his own martial arts uniform designed with a special opening for his tail. "We should spar sometime - test how they handle combat stress."
"You're on! Though maybe after I've had a sugar boost," Satou laughed, securing his distinctive yellow mask. "These support department folks think of everything, huh?"
On the other side of the room, less wholesome conversations were developing.
"Dude," Mineta whispered to Sero, though not quite quietly enough, "do you think Yaoyorozu's costume will really be like her design submission? You know, with the..." He made a gesture that earned him a light smack from Sero's tape.
"Keep it down, man!" Sero hissed, though his own cheeks reddened. "But yeah, I mean, her Quirk needs exposed skin to work, right? So technically it's practical..." He trailed off, earning knowing snickers from those nearby.
"And did you see Midnight earlier? If that's what Pro Heroes wear, then maybe - " Mineta's next comment was cut off by another of Sero's tape strips.
Izuku felt his face burning, trying to focus on his own costume instead of their implications about their female classmates. But when he finally pulled out his hero costume, all other thoughts faded away.
Green.
That was his first impression - a deep, forest green that seemed to absorb and reflect light in equal measure. The material felt both sturdy and flexible as he lifted it, understanding flowing through him as he recognized elements he'd sketched so many times in his notebooks.
The mask caught his eye first - white and rigid, designed to protect while incorporating the signature smile that had inspired him for so long. Not an exact copy of All Might's, but an homage - his own interpretation of that symbol of hope. His fingers traced the reinforced material, remembering all those sketches in his Hero Journal, all those dreams of standing tall like his idol.
The rest of the costume balanced practicality with symbolism. The green jumpsuit featured white lines that would glow faintly in darkness, creating a pattern reminiscent of lightning or flowing energy - perfect for One For All. Reinforced pads at knees and elbows would help with his new fighting style, while the red boots offered both protection and stability for his improved mobility.
But it was the gloves that made his breath catch. Carefully designed to withstand the force of his punches while providing the precise control he'd need for both his powers. At least, this was the theory - there's no way to know if they can withstand One For All's powers unless he actually uses them. And on each palm, subtle but unmistakable - the same smile pattern, miniature versions of the one on his mask. A reminder that every action, every punch thrown, should be in service of bringing hope to others.
"Yo, Midoriya!" Kirishima's voice broke through his reverie. "You gonna put it on or just stare at it all day?"
Izuku quickly began changing, but his mind kept drifting to what this costume represented. This wasn't just clothing - it was his first step toward becoming the kind of hero he'd dreamed of being.
Each piece felt like putting on a new identity, transforming him from Izuku Midoriya into something more.
As they filed out toward the simulation zone, Izuku couldn't help but marvel at his classmates' costumes. Each one told a story about its wearer's aspirations and personality.
Todoroki's outfit was elegant in its simplicity - a white jumpsuit with a beige combat vest. Iida's armor gleamed with mechanical precision, every plate and joint designed to complement his Engine Quirk. Bakugo's gauntlets promised explosive power, while his mask's sharp grin seemed to dare anyone to challenge him.
Fumikage's dark cloak rippled dramatically as they walked, while Aoyama's sparkled with what had to be actual crystals. Shoji's outfit adapted seamlessly to his multiple arms, and Kaminari's design incorporated conductive materials that sparked slightly as he moved.
"Looking good, everyone!" Satou called out encouragingly, his mask unable to hide his infectious enthusiasm. "We actually look like real heroes!"
"That's the idea," Ojiro replied with a knowing smile, his tail swishing behind him. "Though looking the part is just the beginning."
They emerged into the sunlight of the training ground, where the girls were already waiting. Izuku felt his face heat up again as he realized Mineta and Sero's earlier comments hadn't been entirely exaggerated - some of the costumes were more... revealing than others.
He quickly focused his gaze forward, though he couldn't help noticing how each female classmate's costume reflected their individual approach to heroics.
Uraraka's sleek design emphasized mobility, while Asui's frog-themed outfit perfectly complemented her Quirk. Yaoyorozu's costume, while revealing, was clearly designed for maximum efficiency with her Creation ability. Ashido's acid-resistant material sparkled in the sun, and Jirou's outfit incorporated her audio equipment seamlessly.
Standing there in formation, costumes gleaming in the morning light, they looked like a real hero team. Not students playing dress-up, but future defenders of peace. Each costume represented not just its wearer's powers, but their dreams, their ideals, their vision of what a hero should be.
Izuku touched his mask, feeling the smile beneath his fingers. All Might's smile had given hope to millions. Maybe someday, this smile - his smile - would do the same.
"Alright, heroes-in-training," Aizawa's voice cut through their moment of collective awe. "Time to see if those costumes are more than just fancy fashion statements. Training Ground Beta. Now."
As they marched toward their first real combat training, Izuku felt that familiar presence stir within him, his eyes threatening to shift to crimson. But for once, it didn't feel like rage or power-hunger. It felt like anticipation. Like readiness.
Like hope.
AROUND THE SAME TIME…
The TV in the corner crackled to life, static cutting through the bar's silence.
Through the hazy footage, a silhouette emerged - features obscured but presence unmistakable, like a dark star bending reality around itself.
"I trust our little bird delivered today's intelligence?" Master's voice filled the room, smooth yet carrying an edge that made Tomura's grip tighten on his glass.
"Tell me, Tomura... what caught your eye in today's reading?"
Tomura's gaze flickered to the crumpled newspaper.
That photo of the green-haired student and his angry classmate flashed in his mind, stirring something uncomfortable in his memory.
"Nothing about All Might," he started, but something in Master's silence made him pause. The hand against his face felt heavier suddenly, each finger a reminder of his purpose.
Master never asked idle questions.
Every word was calculated, every silence pregnant with expectation. One wrong answer could mean disappointment - though Master never showed it openly. He'd just smile that unchanging smile, and the punishment would come later, subtle and sharp, like decay spreading through healthy tissue.
The itch returned, crawling up his neck with vengeful intensity.
"Just more propaganda," he spat, fingers finding their familiar scratching rhythm. "Hero wannabes prancing around their fancy campus, learning how to fight pickpockets and rescue cats from trees."
"Is that all you see?" Master's voice carried a hint of amusement. "Look deeper, Tomura. What else?"
But Tomura was already standing, the barstool scraping against the floor like nails on glass.
"All this training - for what? To become better at hiding? To master the art of avoiding security cameras?"
The scratching intensified, skin beginning to flake beneath his nails.
"Weeks of doubling back, checking my tail, reading their worthless paper. Some Symbol of Fear I am, skulking in shadows like a common thug."
His laugh was harsh, bitter, echoing off the bar's empty bottles.
"The only ones feeling fear are us, aren't we? Always watching our backs, always waiting for the 'right moment.' Always..." his voice cracked slightly, "...following rules."
"Rules exist to be broken," Master interjected softly, "at precisely the right moment."
"And when is that moment?"
Tomura's voice rose, charged with years of festering hatred.
"What's the point of this little group if we never act? While we hide, they worship their false gods in broad daylight."
The hand on his face trembled with barely contained rage.
"You promised me glory in destruction after everything I've suffered. Everything I lost."
His next words came out as a whisper, dangerous and sharp.
"Was I just some street rat you pitied? Or am I really your instrument of chaos? Because right now - " he gestured at the crumpled newspaper, " - it seems like you never intended for me to incite any real fear at all."
Kurogiri remained perfectly still, his misty form barely rippling. The bartender's silence spoke volumes - he was already anticipating Master's orders for later punishment. Tomura knew it too, but he was beyond caring.
"Tomura."
Master's voice cut through the tension like a surgeon's blade, still carrying that unchanging pleasantness that made it all the more terrifying.
"You disappoint me. Not with your question - but with your lack of vision."
The shadow on the screen shifted slightly, leaning forward as if to share a secret.
"Your Decay is magnificent precisely because it destroys in an instant. But tell me, which is more satisfying: watching a single wall crumble, or seeing an entire structure collapse because you've methodically destroyed its foundation?"
Tomura's scratching slowed, his attention caught despite himself.
"All Might revels in the moment of saving," Master continued, his tone almost contemplative. "He swoops in, smiles for the cameras, basks in instant gratification. And that, my child, is his weakness. But you..."
There was pride in his voice now, twisted and dark.
"You must learn to savor the inevitable. The slow rot. The creeping decay that spreads unseen until everything is primed to fall."
The static on the screen intensified briefly, like reality itself disturbed by Master's presence. "Don't let impatience rob you of your perfect moment. When you strike - and you will strike - it won't just be destruction. It will be their complete undoing."
Tomura's hand lowered slightly from his face, revealing a rare glimpse of the scarred skin beneath.
"And this waiting, this watching... it's all part of that?"
"Every great work requires proper preparation," Master's smile was audible in his words. "Timing is everything. Kurogiri?"
"The preparations proceed as planned," Kurogiri answered smoothly, professional as ever. His misty form seemed to darken with satisfaction. "Our network is in position. We await only your signal."
"Excellent."
Master's presence filled the screen completely now, though his features remained shadowed.
"You see, Tomura? Everything has its season. Your moment will come—and when it does, no amount of heroic intervention will stop what we've set in motion."
"And what exactly have we set in motion?" Tomura asked, a new edge in his voice. Not defiance now, but curiosity.
"The end of their age of peace," Master replied simply. "And the beginning of yours."
In the silence that followed, Tomura's fingers traced the edges of the newspaper photo again. Those students, so proud in their new costumes, had no idea what was coming. The thought brought a smile to his face, hidden beneath the hand of his father.
Maybe Master was right.
Maybe there was something satisfying about watching prey fatten itself for slaughter.
The TV screen erupted into static, Master's presence vanishing as abruptly as it had appeared. The harsh electronic noise filled the bar for several uncomfortable seconds before Kurogiri calmly reached over and switched it off.
"You should consider yourself fortunate," Kurogiri's misty form rippled slightly as he resumed polishing glasses. "Master was in a generous mood today. Your... outburst could have warranted correction."
Tomura slumped back onto his barstool, scratching intensifying.
"This waiting is punishment enough." His red eyes fixed on Kurogiri through the gaps between the fingers pressed against his face. "When exactly are we going to strike? What's this grand plan everyone keeps hinting at but won't explain?"
His voice took on a dangerous edge.
"Or am I just a puppet being strung along?"
"Now, now," Kurogiri's tone carried a warning beneath its professional smoothness.
"As Master said, patience is key. The Symbol of Fear shouldn't concern himself with trivial details." He set down the glass he'd been polishing, yellow eyes gleaming. "Let me handle the logistics while you focus on what's truly important – savoring the moment when it all comes together."
"And what exactly is coming together?" Tomura's fingers drummed against the bar, not quite making contact. "More reconnaissance? More waiting? More - "
"A performance," Kurogiri cut in, his misty form expanding slightly. "One that will make history remember your name. Trust me when I say this, young Tomura – what we're planning will shake their society to its very foundation."
Something in Kurogiri's tone made Tomura pause his scratching.
"You sound... excited. You never sound excited."
"Because I've seen the full scope of what's coming." Kurogiri's usually professional demeanor cracked slightly, revealing a glimpse of genuine anticipation. "The pieces we're moving into place, the dominoes we're setting up... When they fall, it won't just be UA that crumbles. It will be their entire system of false heroics."
Tomura leaned forward slightly. "Is there anything specific Master wants me to do? Besides..." his lip curled beneath the hand on his face, "...waiting?"
"Actually, yes." Kurogiri's form seemed to darken with pleasure. "You might want to prepare a speech for when All Might dies at your hands. Something suitable for the history books."
The scratching stopped entirely. Tomura's eyes widened behind the hand, then narrowed with malicious glee.
"A speech?" A raw laugh escaped him. "I like that. I like that a lot."
His free hand spread across the bar's surface, fingers splayed. "Something to say while I watch him crumble to dust?"
"Think bigger," Kurogiri advised, his mist swirling with unusual animation.
"This won't just be an assassination. It will be the moment that marks the end of their era and the beginning of yours. The death of the Symbol of Peace and the rise of the Symbol of Fear – all captured for the world to witness."
"To witness..." Tomura's voice took on a dreamy quality.
"Yes... yes, that's perfect. Let them watch their precious hero turn to dust. Let them see their symbol crumble while I - "
He stopped suddenly, head tilting.
"Wait. You said 'captured.' Are we planning something public?"
"All in good time," Kurogiri's professional mask slipped back into place. "For now, focus on your role. The Symbol of Fear should project... appropriate menace. Consider how you'll present yourself. What message you want to send. After all..." his yellow eyes gleamed, "if we're making history, we should make it memorable."
"Oh, it'll be memorable."
Tomura's fingers curled against the bar's surface.
"I've got years of messages saved up for our dear Symbol of Peace. Years of watching him prance around, spreading his lies about justice and hope." His laugh turned harsh. "I'll make sure his last moments are filled with despair. Make him understand exactly what he's leaving behind."
"Good," Kurogiri nodded approvingly. "Channel that anger. Refine it. But remember - this isn't just about All Might. It's about everything he represents. Their entire corrupt system needs to be exposed before it's destroyed."
"Exposed?" Tomura's scratching resumed, but slower now, more thoughtful. "You mean we're not just going to kill him?"
"Death would make him a martyr," Kurogiri explained, his voice dropping lower. "But if we destroy not just his body, but everything he stands for? If we reveal the lies behind their heroic façade?" His mist darkened with satisfaction. "That's the kind of decay that can't be reversed."
"Break him before destroying him," Tomura mused, warming to the concept. "Make him watch his precious peace crumble before he does." A grin spread beneath the hand. "Make sure everyone watches it crumble."
"Now you're thinking like a true Symbol of Fear."
Kurogiri began preparing another drink, his movements precise and measured.
"The plan may seem complex, but your role is beautifully simple: be the face of their nightmares. The villain who brought down All Might. The one who showed the world that their peace was always an illusion."
Tomura accepted the fresh drink, lifting it carefully with four fingers.
"To making history then," he said, his voice carrying an edge of genuine anticipation. "And to speeches worth remembering."
"Indeed." Kurogiri's form rippled with dark amusement. "Though perhaps we should work on your public speaking first. Your last villain monologue was a bit... raw."
"Everyone's a critic," Tomura muttered, but there was no real anger in it. His mind was already composing speeches, imagining the moment when All Might would kneel before him, when the world would watch their symbol turn to dust between his fingers.
Yes, he thought, taking a careful sip. I can wait a little longer for that.
AROUND THE SAME TIME…
Training Ground Beta loomed before them, its towering urban structures casting long shadows across the gathering students. The morning sun glinted off their new costumes as they waited, an air of anticipation hanging thick in the air.
"For this Battle Trial," Aizawa drawled, looking even more exhausted than usual, "I won't be providing the briefing." His capture weapon shifted slightly as he stepped aside. "Your instructor will be - "
"I AM HERE!"
All Might's voice boomed across Training Ground Beta as he landed in a three-point stance, concrete cracking beneath his feet. Rising to his full height, he flashed his signature smile, somehow even more brilliant in person than on TV. "Coming through like a - "
He glanced around, cape billowing.
"Ah, the door was supposed to be here! Well, the dramatic entrance still counts!"
"It's really him!" Kaminari whispered, electricity crackling in his hair from excitement.
"The Symbol of Peace himself," Yaoyorozu added, maintaining her composure despite the clear admiration in her voice.
"Man, look at those muscles!" Satou grinned beneath his mask, flexing his own considerable arms. "That's what I'm aiming for when my Sugar Rush is at full power!" He turned to the students around him, enthusiasm infectious. "Can you believe we're actually going to learn combat from All Might himself?"
Even Bakugo's usual scowl softened slightly, though he quickly covered it with a derisive "tch" when he caught Izuku looking.
"Before we begin," All Might announced, producing a small notebook that looked comically tiny in his massive hands, "let me explain today's exercise! Heroes spend most of their time fighting villains indoors - in homes, offices, secret bases! So today, we'll simulate those conditions with our INDOOR BATTLE TRIAL!"
He produced a script from somewhere, squinting at it briefly before continuing with renewed enthusiasm.
"Most villain encounters happen indoors! While flashy TV shows love showing heroes fighting in the streets, the real pros spend most of their time in buildings! Offices! Homes! Secret underground lairs!"
Pulling out a small box, he explained the setup.
"You'll be divided into hero teams and villain teams! Two-on-two battles!" His eternal smile somehow widened. "The scenario is simple: villains have hidden a nuclear weapon in the building. Heroes must either retrieve it or capture the villains. Villains win by protecting it until time runs out or capturing the heroes!"
"A nuclear weapon?" Yaoyorozu raised her hand. "Isn't that a bit..."
"FEAR NOT! It's just a prop! Though a very expensive one, so try not to destroy it completely!" All Might laughed heartily. "Remember, you're indoors! Think carefully about how and when to use your Quirks!"
He produced another box, this one marked with "LOTS" in bold letters. "Now then! Let's draw lots to determine teams!"
The random selection process began, each student drawing their assignment with varying degrees of excitement or apprehension. Izuku's heart thundered in his chest as he reached into the box, pulling out his lot.
"Oh!" Uraraka's face lit up as she bounced over to Izuku. "We're partners!"
Izuku managed a nervous smile, his mask hiding his slight blush. After their encounter at the entrance exam, being paired with Uraraka felt like fate giving him another chance to prove himself.
"And they'll be facing..." All Might dug through the lots dramatically, "Team D! Young Iida and Young Bakugo!"
The temperature seemed to drop several degrees as Bakugo's eyes locked onto Izuku.
Small explosions crackled in his palms, his grin turning feral. Beside him, Iida adjusted his glasses with mechanical precision, already looking contemplative about their upcoming battle.
"You'll be our second match of the day!" All Might announced, either missing or choosing to ignore the crackling tension. "Everyone to the observation room! Let's watch Young Todoroki's team show us how it's done!"
As they filed toward the monitors, Izuku's mind raced with possibilities. Bakugo would be coming for him specifically - that much was certain. But Iida's presence added a whole new dimension to the challenge.
Speed and power, a dangerous combination.
"We can handle them," Uraraka said quietly beside him, her determined expression visible through her helmet's visor. "Your analytical skills, my zero gravity... we'll find a way."
Izuku nodded, grateful for her confidence. The ancient presence stirred within him, eager for the coming confrontation, but he pushed it down. They had time to plan while watching the other matches. Time to think. Time to prepare.
"Right," he replied, reaching for his backpack. "Let's learn everything we can from these first two battles."
His hand found his Hero Journal as they entered the observation deck. Whatever was coming, he'd face it with every tool at his disposal - his notes, his training, and now, a partner who believed in him.
Behind them, Bakugo's voice carried its usual edge: "Enjoy taking notes, De-ku. Won't help you when I'm done with you."
The crimson threatened to rise in Izuku's vision, but he focused instead on opening his notebook to a fresh page. He had two matches to analyze before their turn.
Two matches to figure out how to win.
MINUTES LATER…
Izuku already had his Hero Journal out before they reached the monitors, fresh page ready. Satou peered over his shoulder curiously.
"You really analyze everything, huh?" he asked, not unkindly. "Mind if I watch too? Might learn something useful for my own match."
"O-of course!" Izuku nodded, surprised but pleased by the interest. "Actually, I've been curious about how your Sugar Rush works with different types of - "
"FIRST MATCH!" All Might's voice cut through their conversation. "Hero Team: Young Todoroki and Young Shoji! Versus Villain Team: Young Ojiro and Young Hagakure!"
The monitors showed multiple angles of the battle building. Izuku's pencil flew across the page as the teams took their positions.
"This'll be interesting," Satou commented, leaning closer to watch. "Ojiro's martial arts against Todoroki's raw power. Plus Hagakure's stealth..."
"But Shoji's sensory abilities could counter that," Izuku muttered, already sketching quick diagrams. "And if Todoroki's power is anything like his father's..."
The six monitors in the observation room gave multiple angles of the mock building. Izuku's pencil moved rapidly as he watched both teams take their positions.
"Villain team gets five minutes to set up!" All Might announced. "Heroes, use this time to strategize!"
On screen, Ojiro and Hagakure moved the nuclear weapon to the top floor.
"Smart," Satou commented. "High ground advantage. Plus all those stairs and corridors give them more chances to ambush."
"Look at Ojiro's positioning," Izuku pointed. "He's using his tail to test the floor's structural strength. They might be planning to - "
"TIME'S UP!" All Might's voice boomed. "HERO TEAM MAY NOW ENTER THE BUILDING!"
Instead of entering, Todoroki turned to his partner.
"Shoji-san, please wait outside."
"What's he planning?" Satou wondered aloud.
Izuku's eyes widened as understanding hit. "The temperature - "
Before he could finish, a massive wave of ice erupted from Todoroki's right side. It wasn't just a simple freeze - the ice climbed the building's exterior like a living thing, crystalline structures blooming across windows and walls. Inside, the temperature plummeted.
"He's not just trapping them," Izuku muttered, sketching frantically. "The ice is spreading through the building's infrastructure. Look at how it follows the support beams!"
Through the internal cameras, they watched Ojiro react instantly. His tail slammed into the approaching ice wall, shattering it temporarily. "Don't let it reach you!" he called out. "Hagakure, get to higher ground!"
"Too late!" someone in the observation room gasped.
The ice had already encased the floor beneath them. Ojiro managed one more powerful tail swing, but the frost crept up his legs mid-motion, trapping him. The floating gloves that indicated Hagakure's position suddenly stopped moving, frost coating them.
"But wait," Satou frowned, "if they're stuck, isn't Todoroki also - "
The ice beneath Todoroki's feet suddenly melted as he activated his left side, creating a clear path while the rest of the floor remained treacherously frozen. He walked calmly toward the building's entrance, each step precise and controlled.
"He's using his hot side like a guidance system," Izuku realized, his pencil practically smoking. "Keeping the ice solid enough to trap enemies but melted just enough for mobility. The precision required..."
"That's kind of terrifying," Satou said, though he was grinning. "Remind me not to get on his bad side."
Inside, Ojiro hadn't given up. Despite being partially frozen, he was using his martial arts training to maintain balance, his tail striking strategically at ice formations. "This much ice has to have a weakness!" he called out. "Hagakure, if you can move at all - "
"I-I'm a bit stuck!" her disembodied voice called back. "And it's really cold!"
Todoroki entered the building, moving with calculated efficiency. When Ojiro managed to break free one leg, another wave of ice immediately re-trapped it. The temperature dropped further as Todoroki layered his ice, making sure his opponents stayed immobilized.
"Wait a minute..."
Izuku's brow furrowed as he reviewed his notes.
"If he has both ice and fire Quirks, why only use the fire for movement? He could melt a direct path to the weapon, maybe even create a steam distraction like his father does."
Satou nodded thoughtfully, unwrapping a small candy bar. "Yeah, like Endeavor in that Hosu incident - total inferno, but perfectly controlled." He broke the candy in half, offering part to Izuku. "Want some? Helps me think better."
"Thanks," Izuku accepted absently, still studying the monitors. "It's almost like... like he's deliberately avoiding using his fire Quirk. But why limit yourself in a combat trial?"
On-screen, Todoroki reached the top floor. The weapon sat unguarded - Ojiro still trapped two floors below, Hagakure immobilized somewhere nearby. The temperature had dropped so low that frost coated the camera lenses.
"Maybe he's saving it?" Satou suggested, though he sounded unconvinced. "Like a secret weapon for tougher matches?"
"No..." Izuku's eyes narrowed as he watched Todoroki's careful movements. "Look at his left side - he's using the absolute minimum heat necessary. Just enough to move, nothing more. It's too deliberate to be strategic." His pencil tapped against the page. "There's something else..."
Todoroki approached the weapon with the same methodical calm he'd shown throughout the battle. The ice beneath his feet melted and refroze with each step, leaving a crystalline trail behind him. His expression remained unchanging, almost cold as the ice he commanded.
"HERO TEAM WINS!" All Might announced as Todoroki's hand touched the weapon.
The entire match had taken less than two minutes.
"That's..." Satou shook his head in amazement, "that's some serious power. But you're right - why not use everything you've got? Especially in our first real combat trial? But then again, we have to think about collateral damage."
Izuku added a final note to his analysis: 'Todoroki Shoto - deliberately restraining fire side? Personal reason?' He circled it twice, then drew a small question mark.
Izuku paused his writing, looking up at the monitors where Todoroki was now carefully thawing his opponents.
"You're right. Raw power is impressive, but a hero also needs to consider collateral damage." He quickly added this observation to his notes. "Thanks, Satou-kun! I almost missed that aspect."
"Hey, that's what teammates are for, right?" Satou gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder that nearly sent him stumbling. "Oh, sorry! Sometimes I forget my own strength. Speaking of which..." He glanced at the team assignments. "Think you could help me analyze my upcoming match? I've been working on controlling my power output after using sugar, but..."
As they discussed strategy, Izuku couldn't help but smile behind his mask. It felt good, having someone actually interested in his analysis rather than mocking it. Someone who saw his observation skills as useful rather than creepy.
Maybe, he thought, watching All Might praise Todoroki's performance while simultaneously pointing out areas for improvement, this is what being a real hero student feels like.
Izuku barely had time to finish his notes on Todoroki's overwhelming victory when All Might's voice boomed through the observation room.
"SECOND MATCH!" The Symbol of Peace's eternal smile somehow grew wider. "Team A versus Team D! Heroes and Villains, to your positions!"
The familiar weight of dread settled in Izuku's stomach as he closed his Hero Journal. Beside him, Uraraka stood straighter, her helmet visor catching the light from the monitors.
Across the room, Bakugo's predatory grin widened, small explosions already dancing in his palms.
That crushing anxiety Izuku knew so well began to rise - the same feeling he'd had all those years being Bakugo's target.
But something was different now. The ancient presence stirred within him, not with rage but with...
Anticipation.
Remember your training, a voice whispered in his mind. It sounded like his own, but carried echoes of something older, something that had faced battles since time immemorial.
Remember what brought you here.
Images flashed through his mind: Gran Torino's brutal but effective lessons. The weight of refrigerators on Takoba Beach. All Might's guidance. His mother's tears of joy when he got into U.A.
Each memory felt like another piece of armor settling into place.
As they filed out of the observation room, Bakugo shouldered past him roughly. "Ready to die, De-ku?" he snarled, voice dripping with familiar venom.
But Izuku didn't flinch. For the first time in their long history, he met Bakugo's crimson glare steadily. The old fear was still there, but now it had company: determination, training, and two different kinds of power thrumming through his veins.
"Ready to begin," he replied quietly, and meant it.
The real test was about to start.