The screen resumed where it left off, showing the crab-like villain stomping forward, his massive claw raised high as he loomed over the frightened child. The poor kid was frozen in fear, his tiny frame trembling and his face contorted in terror. The villain sneered, ready to smash his claw down like a guillotine.
But just before he could bring it down—
Crack!
A rock flew through the air and struck the villain squarely on the side of the face, snapping his head sideways with a grunt of surprise.
Gasps echoed across the theatre.
The screen shifted to show the man from earlier—the one who'd been slammed into the trash heap—now standing tall and defiant, dust and bruises clinging to his disheveled suit. His eyes burned with determination.
Most of the room stared in stunned silence.
"He's… still standing?" Momo whispered in disbelief.
"I thought he was out cold," Sero muttered, leaning forward.
"He tanked a direct hit… with no Quirk?" Kaminari added.
"I take it back," Aoyama said dramatically. "He does sparkle… with sheer grit."
However, two people weren't surprised at all.
Knuckleduster was smirking from the moment the rock flew.
"Tch. Knew he had fight in him," the old vigilante muttered under his breath, arms crossed.
Beside him, Koichi smiled faintly, recognizing something familiar in the way the man stood.
"That's the look," Koichi murmured. "Master's look when he sees someone Who can give him a good fight."
Eri, who had been visibly uneasy since the man's earlier injury, perked up slightly. Though she didn't quite understand everything—especially with the blood edited out or recolored—she instinctively relaxed seeing Koichi and Grandpa Knuckle react like that. And without knowing why they smiled, she smiled too.
The episode continued.
"Stop right there!" the man shouted, stepping in front of the child. "If I watch you kill a kid right in front of me, I'll have nightmares!"
He threw off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, fire entering his voice.
"You know, when I was a little boy, I didn't dream of becoming a businessman. I wanted to be a hero. A real one! The kind who could send rotting villains like you flying with just one punch!"
He clenched his fist and struck a makeshift pose, holding his tie like a sash.
"Screw looking for a job… Bring it on, Crab!"
The moment hit everyone hard.
The students, who had earlier scoffed at his cowardly retreat, now found themselves stunned. His voice had changed—there was conviction in it. He wasn't just rambling anymore. He meant it.
"He… really said that," Sato mumbled.
"I was ready to hate him," Jirou admitted, "but now… he kinda sounds like someone I'd root for."
"That's some whiplash development," Kaminari muttered, clearly impressed.
Kirishima's eyes gleamed. "From sleazeball to manly in ten seconds flat. Not bad at all!"
Even Bakugo—who had been openly mocking him earlier—was watching silently now, his expression unreadable.
But while the students were caught in the emotional shift, a few of the pro heroes and staff were focused on something more specific.
"That line…" Gran Torino muttered, his eyes narrowing.
"You heard it too?" Aizawa said quietly.
All Might was silent, his expression thoughtful.
Midnight raised a brow. "He said he wanted to send villains flying with one punch."
Principal Nezu's eyes flicked toward the screen, deep in thought. "It's such an oddly specific phrase, isn't it? Not 'beat them' or 'take them down'—but to defeat them in a single blow."
Recovery Girl leaned forward, voice hushed. "Is that supposed to be symbolic? Or… literal?"
The room grew tenser again as their minds began to churn.
None of them said it out loud, but the question had already taken root in their heads.
Could this man really be him
The episode resumed.
"Oh, a hero, huh?" the crab villain sneered, lifting his massive claw. Without hesitation, he slammed it across the man's face.
The blow echoed with a sickening crack.
Then came a vicious uppercut, knocking the man off his feet. He hit the ground hard, sprawled on his back like a discarded ragdoll.
"You're pathetic," the villain growled, marching toward him with slow, deliberate steps.
The audience tensed.
Their earlier confidence—when the man stood up defiantly—vanished.
"He's… not getting up," Kaminari murmured, voice low.
"He's quirkless," Iida muttered grimly. "At least… that's what we assumed. But even if he isn't, that didn't help him."
Midoriya's brain raced, cycling through possibilities. Could the man still escape? Could he stall? Could he survive?
"This is bad," Iida repeated, more urgently this time. His hands were clenched tight enough to shake. "There's no way he can win like this."
Ochako leaned forward, eyes locked on the screen. "Maybe… maybe he can still buy time," she said. "For the kid to run. Or for the police to arrive. That's enough."
Her words gave Iida something to hold onto. Even Midoriya's storm of thoughts slowed, just a little.
But while most of the students were worried, the villains mostly looked on with amused detachment—except for a few.
Knuckleduster watched the screen in silence, his expression unreadable. But a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Koichi glanced sideways and caught it. Then, slowly, he smirked too.
They weren't smiling out of confidence. They were smiling because they recognized this moment.
Knuckleduster had seen this kind of fight before—one-sided, overwhelming, and yet somehow winnable. Not with brute strength. But with guts. And with the right kind of madness.
Koichi didn't have the same experience, but he'd watched his master enough to know when something wasn't over.
And they were both thinking the same thing.
"He's not done," Knuckleduster muttered.
"He's still got something," Koichi agreed.
The screen confirmed it a moment later—with a twist no one expected.
The man groaned and slowly pushed himself up. His face was bruised, suit torn, but his eyes were sharp.
The villain laughed. "Your life ends now!"
He lunged with another crushing blow.
But the man moved—fast.
He leapt into the air, dodging the attack entirely. Then he landed right on the villain's arm and sprinted down it like a narrow bridge.
"What the hell?!" Kaminari blurted.
"He's running on his arm?!" Yaoyorozu leaned forward in disbelief.
Just before leaping off, the man looped his necktie around one of the villain's eye stalks. As he fell, he yanked it hard.
The scene exploded into chaos.
With a violent rip, the tie tore through the villain's eye stalk—and with it, the internal organs behind it. A stream of black, oily fluid burst into the air, raining down in thick globs.
The child froze, eyes wide.
The villain's body slumped forward and hit the ground with a heavy crash.
The man stood tall, breathing heavily, atop the unmoving corpse.
Stunned silence followed.
Several students recoiled. A few pale-faced extras even passed out in their seats.
Mina swallowed hard. "That was… brutal."
Kirishima blinked, still processing. "That wasn't just brutal. That was manly… in a horrifying way."
No one was more shocked than the vigilantes.
Knuckleduster and Koichi had both predicted the same strategy—go for the eyes, visually that was his, weak point. But neither imagined the man would go that far.
"That's not just instinct," Knuckleduster muttered. "That's killer intent."
"Yeah," Koichi said quietly. "That was real."
But the one visibly shaken was Tamaki.
His friends noticed his stiff posture and pale face.
"Tamaki? Are you alright?" Nejire asked gently.
Mirio followed her gaze, then blinked in realization.
"Oh, crap… Tamaki, you do eat crab."
Kirishima turned. "Wait, yeah… if you took in crab DNA—"
"You might end up looking like that thing," Tokoyami finished.
Tamaki curled deeper into his seat. "Please stop talking…"
Meanwhile, Twice let out a long whistle.
"Okay, wow," he said. "That was brutal. I LIKE IT!"
Some villains nodded along, impressed. Others—like Toga—pouted.
"Ugh. That wasn't even real blood," she grumbled. "Looked like oil…"
Spinner was focusing on something else he just killed the villain he thought
but then everyone else had the same realization creeping in.
This man had just killed the villain. Calmly. Efficiently. Without flair.
And as that truth settled in, it replaced awe with something heavier.
A quiet, unsettling fear.