The moment Madara left the training ground, the door closed with a quiet thud behind him, leaving Snake still seated in stunned silence. The dagger embedded in the floor—barely missing a critical part of his anatomy—continued to glint ominously beneath the ceiling lights. Sweat beaded at his temple, and his pride, though bruised, wasn't enough to mask the gnawing feeling in his gut.
He had just been humiliated.
Snake clenched his fists as he stared at the dagger, the realization dawning on him with uncomfortable clarity: this kid—this transfer student from a different world—was no ordinary child. He wasn't even close.
Meanwhile, Madara strolled calmly down the pristine corridors of the Hero Association headquarters, hands buried in his pockets. The earlier encounter had barely registered as a warm-up in his eyes. Though not one to enjoy needless conflict, the blatant arrogance of someone like Snake had made it impossible not to retaliate.
And yet... Madara's mind wasn't on Snake. Not anymore.
His Sharingan deactivated, returning his vision to normal as he stepped into the elevator. His eyes narrowed faintly as his mind turned toward what truly interested him—understanding the nature of the 'weirdos' in this world. If these creatures were becoming frequent enough to require a massive organization like the Hero Association, then something far greater was stirring in the shadows.
He pressed the button for the rooftop lounge. A part of him longed for fresh air. And quiet.
Outside, the rooftop was calm. Cool wind brushed his cheeks. The sun stood high, casting bright beams over the city's sweeping skyline. From this height, City A looked peaceful, bustling, and unaware of the potential calamities waiting in the wings.
Madara sat down on a bench near the edge, his eyes scanning the clouds. In this new world, without chakra as the dominant force, quirks reigned. Heroes were ranked by popularity and power, but the structure lacked the discipline of the shinobi hierarchy he once knew. It felt chaotic. Incomplete.
Still... there was opportunity in chaos.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the smartphone the Association had given him. Dozens of notifications flashed across the screen—status reports, mission alerts, and training recommendations. Most of it was noise.
But one notification stood out:
[New Alert: Dragon-Level Threat Detected in City Q. S-Class Heroes Dispatched.]
Madara raised a brow. 'Dragon-level'—that was their highest tier for disaster classification, wasn't it?
His thumb hovered over the details, and with a quick swipe, the report opened.
Threat: Unknown organic life form exhibiting extreme regenerative abilities.
Casualties: 143 civilians confirmed dead.
Current Response: S-Class Heroes Atomic Samurai and Puri-Puri Prisoner en route.
Public Warning Level: Severe.
Madara's eyes narrowed.
That sounded like the kind of fight he could learn from.
Back in the underground command room, several senior Hero Association officials gathered to review the footage from the earlier sparring match.
Specifically, the moment Madara vanished and reappeared behind Snake.
One of the tech analysts paused the footage. "Playback speed is at 0.01x... but we still can't track his movement."
Another official leaned forward. "You're saying even our slow-motion equipment couldn't capture it?"
"Correct. From frame A to frame B, he crosses twenty meters instantly. There's no blur trail, no transition. It's almost like... teleportation, but without any spatial disruption."
"And yet he claims not to be a Hero?" murmured one of the researchers. "That level of speed and control... even Flashy Flash would have difficulty keeping up."
The lead analyst nodded slowly. "And that dagger throw at the end—do you know how much precision it takes to stop a blade within a centimeter of a vital area?"
Another official pulled up Madara's basic profile. "Still, he's technically just an intern. He doesn't even have a formal Hero license."
"Then we better update his file," said the lead analyst grimly. "Before Sweet Mask or one of the S-Class Heroes decides to test him personally."
Later that evening, back in his assigned apartment, Madara stood in front of the mirror, peeling off the bloodstained bandage from the fight with the tiger-headed monster at the airport. Though barely scratched, the Hero Association had insisted on medical checkups.
"Tch," Madara scoffed as he tossed the unused salve into the trash. "Their medicine is still a century behind medical ninjutsu."
A knock came at his door.
He didn't move.
Another knock.
"…You can come in," Madara finally said.
The door creaked open and a man stepped inside. This one didn't wear the standard Association uniform. Instead, he was dressed in a sleek black outfit with a high collar and strange circular goggles over his eyes.
"I'm from the Analysis Bureau," he said calmly, "assigned to monitor your first week of internship."
Madara gave him a cursory glance. "Spy?"
"Supervisor," the man replied with a thin smile. "You made quite an impression today. The higher-ups would like to avoid unnecessary... escalation."
Madara chuckled, not bothering to mask the edge in his tone. "Then they shouldn't assign clowns like Snake to evaluate me."
The supervisor made no response to that.
Instead, he handed Madara a new device—sleek, black, and smaller than the previous one. "This is a restricted Hero Watch. It grants you access to live threat updates, hero deployment tracking, and approved emergency response channels."
"And this is supposed to interest me why?"
"Because," the man said, "we'd like to send you out tomorrow."
Madara raised a brow. "To where?"
"City B. A new pattern of underground humanoids is surfacing—stronger than usual. They've killed two C-class Heroes and injured one A-class."
Madara's expression finally shifted, just slightly.
"Finally something worthwhile."
The next morning, before sunrise, Madara stood at the train station platform alone, his long black coat fluttering slightly in the early wind.
He had packed lightly: just the new Hero Watch, a change of clothes, and his usual bandages and supplies tucked into a hidden pouch.
The digital voice on the intercom called out: "Express train to City B arriving in one minute."
Behind him, a familiar voice called out. "You're really planning to go alone again?"
Madara turned slightly.
Yaoyorozu Momo stood behind him, dressed in a white coat and looking more worried than angry. "You didn't even say goodbye before you left U.A."
"I didn't think I needed to," Madara said coolly.
She frowned. "You're always running off, doing everything by yourself. Why won't you let anyone help you?"
"Because I don't need help."
"That's not true," she said, stepping closer. "It's okay to rely on someone."
Madara met her eyes and, for a long moment, said nothing.
The train pulled in, its doors hissing open.
"I'll come back," Madara said quietly. "But this is something I need to see for myself."
Without waiting for her reply, he stepped onto the train and vanished behind the closing doors.
Momo stood there, the wind rustling her coat, watching the train pull away.
And somewhere deep in City B, the underground trembled as something monstrous stirred.
---
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