Nobu wasn't your average villain. He wasn't chasing grand ideologies, world domination, or twisted revenge. He wanted one thing: money enough to disappear and live comfortably without lifting another damn finger.
That was it. Not evil, not righteous. Just done with the grind.
When Wolfram picked him up, promising a high-payout gig, Nobu saw an out. One mission. Millions. Then poof—gone. A beach, a drink, no responsibilities. Daigo, his offensive meathead of a partner, would do most of the heavy lifting anyway.
It was the perfect plan.
So why was he getting bodied by a high school brat who still looked like he should be in gym class?
Nobu barely dove to the side as an explosion detonated beside him, scattering concrete like shrapnel. His palms slammed against the ground, displacing the gravel, redirecting the debris to form a barrier that shielded him.
Bakugo Katsuki came in from above, flipping mid-air with absurd finesse. With a bang-bang of twin blasts, he accelerated like a missile, dodging Nobu's swipe and closing the gap with violent precision.
"DIE."
A bright flash. A thunderous boom. Nobu barely managed to throw up another wall of rubble, his Quirk—Displacement—flaring to its limits. The hastily formed barrier held, but the concussive force slammed through and knocked him backward like a ragdoll.
Bakugo landed hard, knees bent, steam curling from his gauntlets, his crimson eyes locked onto his foe.
"What the hell are villains doing on a hero island? This ain't a summer vacation."
Still dazed, Nobu spat out blood, wiped his lip, and chuckled.
"What else? Looting, killing, havoc... You know, the usual Tuesday villain shift."
Bakugo didn't smile. He didn't even flinch.
Instead, he lowered into a stance, palms behind him, explosions popping rhythmically like a warning drumbeat.
"Then I've got the usual shift for you: hospital bed or prison cell."
Nobu's fingers twitched. He knew the look . This kid wasn't just fighting—he was hunting.
"Even with the worst matchup... I'm not going out that easily!"
He lunged—only for Bakugo to vanish in a blur. A thunderclap erupted inches from his face. A direct blast, no theatrics.
Darkness took him.
💀 Villain Reflection
As Nobu crumpled to the ground, half-conscious, his mind buzzed.
"Was this ever winnable?"
"Maybe I should've opened a bakery…"
Bakugo stood over the unconscious man, shaking out his gauntlet with an annoyed grunt.
"Tch… Wasn't even trying. You guys talk big and fold like napkins."
No response.
Bakugo clicked his tongue and turned as Tenya Iida jogged in, adjusting his glasses.
"We've secured the area. What about him?"
Bakugo motioned to the unconscious heap with a thumb.
"He's done. Now, someone get me a damnusablee villain. This one's brain's mush."
Iida took a moment, glanced at the purple, bloated figure slumped nearby—once the stocky villain with stretching limbs—now courtesy of a Kirishima special.
"Kirishima handled the rest. He moved on through the breach—" Iida pointed at the torn metal wall, jagged with impact marks. "That hole was his work."
Bakugo scoffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"Of course it was. Freakin' headfirst, no plan…"
He walked toward the breach, eyes narrowed in thought.
"...Bet that damn ki-freak is having fun while I'm here wasting time."
Iida fell into step beside him.
"You could try using names, Bakugo."
"They have names? Since when?"
"Since birth!"
Bakugo ignored him, muttering under his breath.
"Damn extras, can't leave anything for me."
As they walked briskly through the dim, metallic halls of the tower, Iida glanced sideways at Bakugo, lips pursed. The tension between them wasn't awkward, just… unspoken.
"Bakugo…" Iida finally muttered, breaking the silence.
"Tch. What?" Bakugo didn't bother turning.
"Could we talk?" Iida asked, more hesitant now, his voice thick with effort, as if dragging the words out of his pride.
Bakugo stopped for a second, then resumed walking. "...Aren't we already?"
"You know what I mean," Iida pressed. "You're the type to speak when angry, not when thoughtful. And I believe you've had more thoughts lately."
Bakugo narrowed his eyes. "You practicing for some hero therapy license or somethin'? Save it."
"Actually," Iida said calmly, "I've noticed something about you."
Bakugo shot him a sideways glare. "This better not be sappy."
"You've changed."
"Oh, hell."
Iida ignored the scoff.
"Before, you were a fire that burned indiscriminately. Uncontrollable. Now… now you burn with direction. You're still intense, but now you're willing to walk beside someone instead of through them. You're… compassionate."
Bakugo deadpanned. "You think that flowery crap'll get you to No.1? Sounds like a wasted essay to me."
"Took me fifteen minutes to draft that phrasing," Iida admitted. "But I'm a better leader than a poet, so I'm used to getting to the point."
"So get to it."
"You're no longer fighting alone. And that matters."
Bakugo didn't reply. Not verbally. But his eyes softened—for just a second—before hardening again at the faint echo of heavy footsteps.
"Hold up." Bakugo's tone changed—focused, alert. "You hear that?"
Iida instantly snapped into action, lifting his pant legs to reveal the chrome engines embedded in his calves. They both ducked, peering around the next corner.
A tactical squad—fully armoured, rifles slung tight, boots pounding the floor with military rhythm—was charging straight toward them.
"A full sweep unit," Iida whispered.
"I'll blast a smokescreen," Bakugo said, stepping forward as he clicked his palms. "Buy you a window."
"That's all I need," Iida confirmed, engines already rumbling.
Bakugo grinned—not one of joy, but a dangerous, ready smirk.
"Let's see how fast your damn legs are."
🚪 Elevator Showdown: Kuro & Todoroki
Back near the elevator shaft, metal creaked and groaned under the pressure of small fingers forcing it open from the inside.
Kurokami Tenshin emerged—his black combat uniform now lightly singed, his hair tousled, his face scratched but grinning.
Beyond the door: a squad of soldiers, guns already raised in confusion and tension.
"Oh," Kuro said cheerfully, cocking his head. "You guys made it to this floor too?"
The soldiers raised weapons, but Kuro didn't flinch. Instead, he closed his eyes, and purple ki radiated from his hand, spiralling upward, sizzling with divine fury.
"Divine Wrath," he whispered.
In the next instant, the hallway lit with a burning orange light. The condensed sphere of ki hovered briefly, then detonated outward in a controlled burst of force. Walls groaned. Steel dented. The soldiers were flung like dolls.
As the smoke cleared, Kuro floated upward, surrounded by crackling ki like an ascended monk-god from a martial arts tale.
"Twenty-three points, give or take." He tapped his chin. "That puts me ahead of you now, Shoto."
Todoroki stepped out from behind the elevator, his face calm and unreadable, a thin mist of ice trailing from his footsteps.
"By eight points. You're not that far ahead."
"Far enough," Kuro grinned.
"I'll win by the end," Todoroki said simply.
Kuro's grin only widened. "Then I guess we've got a game."
With that, the two stepped forward into the rising chaos, their banter oddly comforting amid the danger—a sign that they still had fight left to give.
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Auther: This arc is gonna take a minute.]