Kenjiro POV
One second, we're standing there like idiots, listening to Thirteen's speech about heroism and saving lives.
The next?
The plaza tears open.
A swirling black void spits out villains like some kind of fucked-up clown car, and suddenly, we're not in a training exercise anymore.
We're under attack.
At the front of the pack, three figures stand out.
The first is a guy who looks like he raided a thrift store for "edgy horror villain" cosplay—pale blue hair, a severed hand gripping his face, and a voice that sounds like he gargled broken glass.
The second is a living shadow, golden eyes gleaming from within a misty body.
And the third?
Big. Real big. Hulking, exposed brain, blank eyes—like someone took a horror movie monster and slapped it into a suit.
Yeah. Not good.
Hand-Face—Shigaraki, I remember from the anime—scratches his neck, irritated. "Where's All Might?"
His misty buddy, Kurogiri, checks something—a schedule?—and frowns. "He was supposed to be here."
Shigaraki's fingers twitch. "Did we get lied to?"
Eraser Head's voice cuts through the tension. "Thirteen, protect the students. Evacuate and contact the school."
Midoriya panics. "But—sensei! You can't fight them all alone—"
Eraser Head doesn't even glance back. "I'm a pro. Worry about yourselves."
And then he moves.
The first wave of villains raises their guns.
Eraser Head's scarf uncoils like a living thing, his hair lifting as his Quirk activates.
"Huh? My Quirk—!"
Click. Click. Click.
Nothing happens.
Eraser Head's eyes glow red, his scarf lashing out—bam, bam, bam—knocking them out before they can even scream.
Damn.
I knew he was strong, but seeing it?
Midoriya gapes. "I—I totally underestimated him—"
I grab his arm, yanking him back. "Yeah, no shit. Now move!"
We barely make it three steps before the mist villain—Kurogiri—materializes in front of us.
"Apologies," he says, voice smooth as poisoned honey. "But I cannot allow you to leave."
Thirteen shifts into a defensive stance. "Students, back up—"
Bakugo doesn't listen.
"Like hell we're listening to you!"
He explodes forward, Kirishima right behind him, hardening his fist.
Me? I don't bother with a battle cry. I just act.
My arm stretches, reshaping mid-air—Mochi Fist—slamming toward Kurogiri's center mass.
But the bastard just smirks.
Our attacks pass through him.
"Tch." Of course. Intangibility.
Kurogiri's golden eyes gleam. "I am Kurogiri of the League of Villains. Today, we are here to ensure the death of All Might."
Thirteen's fingers twitch toward her Quirk. "You won't—"
Kurogiri's mist expands.
"Scatter, children."
The world twists.
One second, I'm standing there.
The next?
Nothing.
Black. Weightless.
Then—
"Shit—!"
I wrench myself forward, my body liquefying just enough to resist the warp's pull. Beside me, Kirishima stumbles—I grab his wrist, yanking him free before the mist can swallow him whole.
We land hard on the concrete, gasping.
Kirishima blinks. "Dude—how the hell did you—?"
I flex my fingers, mochi-like texture fading back to normal. "Fast reflexes."
And a Quirk that lets me reshape my body at will.
But there's no time to explain.
Because we're alone.
The rest of the class?
Gone.
Kirishima curses, looking around. "Where'd they—?"
I cut him off. "Scattered. Kurogiri sent them to different zones."
His eyes widen. "Then we gotta—"
"Find them. Yeah."
I scan the facility.
Eraser Head's still fighting in the plaza, but he's outnumbered.
Shigaraki's watching, scratching his neck like this is all boring now.
And Kurogiri?
He's gone.
Damn it.
Kirishima clenches his fists. "We can't just leave everyone—"
I smirk. "Who said anything about leaving?"
His grin matches mine.
Time to hunt some villains.
******
The first villain charged at me with a battle cry that sounded more like a squeak.
Pathetic.
I sidestepped, my arm morphing into a dense, rubbery mass before driving my fist straight into his gut. The guy folded like a cheap lawn chair, skidding across the pavement.
Kirishima let out a sharp laugh beside me, his hardened fist smashing into another thug's jaw. "Man, you make that look easy!"
I smirked. "That's because it is."
A third villain lunged from my blind spot, his mouth stretching grotesquely as he spat a glob of acid straight at my back.
Predictable.
My body rippled, the projectile passing through me like I was made of smoke before reforming instantly. The guy's eyes widened.
"Wha—?!"
I didn't let him finish.
My leg snapped up in a Muay Thai knee strike, reinforced with my Quirk—impact spreading like a shockwave as he launched into a wall.
Kirishima whistled. "Damn, dude. Save some for me."
I rolled my shoulders. "Plenty to go around."
And there were.
Villains kept coming—some with blades, others with Quirks that made them bulk up or shoot projectiles. None of it mattered.
I flowed.
Taekwondo kicks lashed out like whips, my limbs elongating mid-strike to catch enemies off guard. A brute with reinforced skin tried to grapple me—bad move. My arm twisted, wrapping around his wrist before I yanked him off balance and drove a mochi-coated elbow into his temple.
Thud.
Another one down.
Kirishima was holding his own, his hardening letting him trade blows with two villains at once. He grinned, sharp teeth flashing. "We're wrecking these guys!"
I didn't answer.
Because in the distance, at the center of the plaza, Eraser Head was in trouble.
Eraser Head moved like a ghost—swift, precise, his capture weapon a blur as he disabled villain after villain. But even he had limits.
And Shigaraki knew it.
The pale-haired freak dodged a swipe of Eraser's scarf, his fingers twitching. "Your Quirk's annoying," he rasped. "But you blink, don't you?"
Eraser Head's eyes were bloodshot, dry from overuse. He had to blink eventually.
And when he did—
Shigaraki lunged, fingers outstretched.
Decay.
I moved.
My body stretched, shooting across the battlefield like a bullet.
Shigaraki's fingers grazed Eraser Head's elbow—
"Not today."
My mochi-coated fist slammed into Shigaraki's ribs, sending him skidding back.
Eraser Head didn't waste time. He retreated, putting distance between them.
Shigaraki straightened, his red eyes burning with irritation. "You."
I cracked my neck. "Me."
Kirishima landed beside me, fists raised. "You good, sensei?"
Eraser Head's breath was ragged, but he nodded. "Stay sharp. His Quirk—"
"—disintegrates anything he touches. Yeah, I noticed," I finished.
Shigaraki's grin widened. "Smart kid. Too smart." His fingers flexed. "Nomu."
The thing behind him—the hulking, brain-exposed monster—twitched.
Oh, hell no.
Before I could react, a boom echoed from the entrance.
Thirteen had Kurogiri pinned, her black hole Quirk tearing at his misty form.
"Students, run!" she shouted.
Kurogiri's golden eyes narrowed. "Foolish."
His mist warped, twisting her own Quirk against her. The suction ripped into her suit, and Thirteen collapsed.
No.
Iida moved, engines roaring as he bolted for the exit. Kurogiri flickered, reappearing in his path—
"Not happening!"
Shoji's massive arms slammed into Kurogiri, grappling him just long enough for Iida to blast past.
Go. Get help.
Shigaraki scratched his neck, annoyed. "Kurogiri, you let one escape."
The mist villain reformed, voice calm. "My apologies."
Shigaraki sighed. "Whatever. Nomu—kill the brats."
The monster's blank eyes locked onto us.
Eraser Head shifted into a defensive stance. "Kenjiro, Kirishima—fall back."
I didn't move.
Because Nomu was fast.
Too fast.
One second, it was standing there.
The next?
Its fist was inches from my face.