Madara carried Death Red Fist on his back, his figure flickering rapidly through the night. Within mere seconds, he brought the wounded hero to a quiet spot near a hospital, one safely tucked away from the chaos.
"What... what are you?" Death Red Fist stared in awe, his voice filled with disbelief. Madara's movement had been so fast, it felt like they'd ridden on the wind.
But what puzzled him even more wasn't the speed—it was why someone whose Quirk was supposedly just Hypnosis could be this powerful.
"Ten months ago," Madara said, helping Death Red Fist sit against the wall, "you would've rushed to save me without hesitation, wouldn't you?"
Death Red Fist leaned back, catching his breath. "Yeah… but you were the one who defeated that thing, weren't you?" He looked over, squinting. "The sludge villain. You keep denying it, but I know it was you."
He gave a weak laugh. "Your Quirk's Hypnosis. The other kid was Explosion. No Quirk but Hypnosis could've messed with the sludge villain's mind like that."
Madara stood up, looking off into the distance. "That's over now. We don't owe each other anything."
He pointed toward the hospital's glowing sign. "You should be able to walk from here, right?"
"Wait—' we don't owe each other'? What's that supposed to mean?" Death Red Fist reached up, grabbing the edge of Madara's shirt. "And aren't you coming to the police station with me? Do you even know who that guy was?"
"Stain," Madara replied without flinching. "The Hero Killer. Yeah, I know exactly who he is."
He gently pried Death Red Fist's hand off his shirt. "But I don't want the police involved. As far as I'm concerned, this never happened."
"Why did you save me then? You said it yourself—you didn't owe me anything."
Madara paused for just a moment. "Because... I don't mind looking at you."
"..."
"And yet..." He suddenly frowned, murmuring to himself as he turned to leave. "Feels like I forgot something..."
Ten minutes later—
As Madara slowly walked down the road toward home, the realization hit him like a slap.
The groceries he'd just bought... were still back in the alley where he fought Stain.
He stopped walking.
"..."
For Madara, the encounter with Stain was nothing more than a minor incident—just another late-night detour.
The next day, he arrived at U.A. High on time. But the moment he stepped into class, he was summoned to the teacher's office.
And he wasn't alone.
Bakugo Katsuki, looking as furious as ever, was called in with him.
"Ugh, this is a pain."
In the faculty office, Aizawa Shouta sat behind his desk, wrapped in his sleeping bag as always, eyes barely open. "I didn't think something like this would happen on the first day of class."
He didn't need to explain. The incident with Bakugo fainting during his usual bickering with Madara was still fresh.
"Uchiha," Aizawa said, his voice suddenly sharp and focused, "you should understand that using Quirks in personal disputes on campus is strictly forbidden. Break that rule again, and I will expel you."
His gaze shifted to Bakugo. "As for you, I don't expect miracles when it comes to your attitude. But at least learn to control yourself a little. Don't cause unnecessary drama."
"Tch. Whatever," Bakugo muttered, hands shoved in his pockets, face turned away.
"And you, Uchiha?" Aizawa asked.
"I'll try."
"…Since this is your first offense, I'll let it go without a formal punishment." Aizawa opened a drawer and pulled out a file. "However, you two will handle school cleaning duty for the rest of the month."
"Huh?! What the hell?!" Bakugo exploded. He slapped the folder back down on Aizawa's desk and jabbed his finger in Madara's direction. "You're making me clean with this pink-eyed freak?!?"
"Yes," Aizawa replied flatly. "Together. Every day. After school."
Bloodshot eyes glared at both of tthem m—especially at Madara.
If looks could kill, Madara would've been vaporized on the spot.
Bakugo fumed for a long moment before finally snapping again. "Damn it, I'm gonna KILL YOU, pink eye!!!"
"..."
The morning classes at U.A. were filled with general education: basic English, history, and so on. Surprisingly, most of it was laughably easy—elementary level.
But what made U.A. special wasn't the classes. It was lunch.
The school's cafeteria served world-class food at unbelievably low prices.
Madara, however, had only one favorite: ramen.
And for just 100 yen a bowl, it was heaven.
After lunch, it was time for the afternoon class—Hero Basics.
Just as the bell rang, the door burst open.
"I! AM! HERE!! Entering through the door like a normal person!"
A massive man in a red, white, and blue suit stood proudly in the doorway. Muscles rippled beneath his costume. His cape fluttered behind him.
"All Might!" someone gasped.
"The real All Might?!"
"Whoa, look at that costume—straight out of the Silver Age!"
"He's HUGE!"
Even the calmest students were starstruck. Izuku Midoriya practically melted into a puddle.
All Might strutted to the front of the class, posing like a superhero on a comic book cover. "I'll be your instructor for Hero Basics! This course will push your limits and build the foundation for becoming real Heroes! It's intense—but the credits are worth it!"
Then he raised a hand and pointed toward the wall.
With a whir, metal boxes emerged from compartments, each marked with a number.
"These are your battle suits!" All Might boomed. "Custom-made based on the Quirk reports and preferences you submitted when you enrolled."
"Now! Go get changed into your hero costumes—and meet me at the training grounds immediately!"
"YES, SIR!!!"
The class erupted in excitement. Everyone rushed to grab their gear.
Madara, meanwhile, just adjusted his collar slightly and walked calmly after the others, eyes quietly gleaming.