The first thing the screen showed was an alley swallowed by shadows, with not a single light escaping its depths. Yet beyond it, the city's glow was vibrant enough to be mistaken for daylight. It was a dark corner nestled between the bright city lights—a gap between two buildings that wouldn't attract much attention.
"Is this supposed to be some horror film?" Aizawa's voice cut through the theater's low murmurs, reflecting the thought running through most of the audience's minds.
The camera suddenly snapped to an average-looking man—a small, unassuming figure with graying hair and blocky glasses—the stereotype of a quirkless Japanese salaryman.
All For One's eyes narrowed with the wisdom of ages. "So, this is set in Japan, possibly? From his appearance, this looks like the pre-quirk era or its beginning."
Before he could continue his thought, both the explosion brat and his disciple—Tomura, his adopted son (he wasn't even sure at this point how to view him)—spoke up.
"Why are we watching this?" they both said simultaneously.
"Shut up, you Extra! Don't copy what I say!" Tomura shot back, arms crossed and scowling.
"Right back at you, Pomeranian!" Bakugo retorted, fists clenched as if ready to explode.
"What'd you call me, you pale-hand freak?!" Tomura snapped.
"You heard me, bitch. Or maybe that rabies you've been whining about is messing with your head," Bakugo sneered, baring his teeth.
Both were about to lunge at one another when an invisible force slammed Bakugo back into his seat, accompanied by an eerie voice echoing through the theater.
Bat-Mite appeared with an extreme frown laced with malicious intent.
"So these are the next generation of heroes? You can't even go less than two minutes before interrupting the show."
"Pathetic! Nothing like the Almighty Batman."
"The blond one—no mere hero. More villainous than many in your League. Take Toga, who was cast aside by her quirk, lost in darkness without guidance. Her quirk led her astray, but shouldn't that be on the hero society that abandoned her?"
He fixed All Might with a glare. "And you, Toshinori, did you know this one tormented your disciple every day—mentally, physically? Statistically, it's a miracle Midoriya didn't crumble."
"Don't believe me? Well, let's list all the things he's done."
Bat-Mite's voice bellowed across the theater as he laid bare Bakugo's darkest past with cruel relish. Every crime, every misstep cataloged in sharp, uncompromising detail. It was less narration and more judgment cast over a future hero's broken path.
SUICIDE INCITEMENT
Midoriya's Perspective:
For Midoriya, the theater around him dimmed as the ghosts of old scars clawed their way back. The cruel whispers, taunts from hands that were supposed to protect, nights spent wrestling with despair alone in the darkness of his mind.
His breath grew shallow, fingers curled into the stiff fabric of his seat. "Not again," he whispered, eyes fluttering shut, bracing against the onslaught.
His heart pounded with the weight of every insult and every shove, every moment of isolation that followed. The word "suicide" stabbed like a jagged blade, pulling him down into a pit of despair he'd fought desperately to escape.
Tears welled but never spilled, stifled by years of forcing a smile and pretending it didn't hurt. The theater grew unreal around him, colors dimmed, sounds dulled; all that mattered was the ache inside, the sense of being utterly alone with his pain.
The faint scent of antiseptic and stale classroom air filled the room, each sensory detail anchoring Midoriya's fractures to cruel reminders of what he had endured.
Bakugo's Perspective:
Bakugo's mind, however, was different.
Suicide incitement? The phrase skimmed his mind with a dismissive sneer. Like I gave one damn about the weak. If someone's dumb enough to break under a little heat, then that's their problem, not mine.
Villains' Reactions:
Villains seated across the theater chuckled with scorn.
"Typical," Dabi sneered. "Hero society's perfect angels hiding messy realities."
"Well, well," hissed Toga, toothy grin sharp but eyes cold. "Little Deku's been through hell, hasn't he? And his best friend? An absolute nightmare."
Shigaraki sneered, voice dripping with contempt. "Perfect example of what's rotten at the heart of hero society—you peel back the shiny mask, and it's just scars covered in lies. They preach justice but create monsters."
The villains in the theater leaned into their seats, their faces alight with a mix of sardonic amusement and cold calculation, like predators reveling in the unveiling of their prey's vulnerabilities.
Dabi chuckled darkly, adding, "The system screws the vulnerable, then pretends to save them. No wonder they fall."
Heroes' Reactions:
Aizawa's voice cut through, calm but edged with bitterness. "We're supposed to be symbols of hope, but we let this happen. We failed the very souls we promised to protect. History used as a weapon instead of a lesson."
ATTEMPTED MURDER
Midoriya's Perspective:
Images flashed before Midoriya—Bakugo's uncontrolled explosions, the terror, the near-catastrophic moments when self-control was lost. The acrid burn of smoke and heat filled his senses, mingling with the raw terror of the moment.
All Might's Reaction:
As Midoriya's torment unfolded in the theater, All Might's expression twisted into something unrecognizable. His hands gripped the arms of his chair with white-knuckled fury, the knuckles pale and strained. His fingers tangled painfully in his own hair, clutching with desperate agitation.
His iconic bright grin—once a symbol of endless hope—vanished completely, replaced by a grimace sharp enough to cut the thick silence. Teeth clenched so tightly they ground on each other, a low growl rumbling deep in his throat.
The image of Bakugo's relentless torment of Midoriya was like a knife plunged into the man who had sworn to protect and nurture the next generation. That the torment had continued unchecked, day after day, strangled all the hope and joy from his chest.
How could I have been so blind? All Might thought, anger coiling tightly inside him, spiraling into a bitter storm. How could I, the symbol of peace, miss the suffering of the boy I was meant to save?
His voice was caught in his throat, raw with regret and rage. The regret tasted bitter and heavy like ash.
The weight of failure pressed relentlessly upon him, breaking down the towering ideal he had fought to maintain. This was no longer the bright, smiling hero—it was a man broken by the enormity of his mistakes, burning with a fierce, roaring anger he struggled to contain.
All Might's eyes, usually radiating warmth and light, now flashed with cold fire as he vowed silently that he would never let such neglect pass again, no matter the cost.
The silence around him was heavy, thick with shared pain and regret—a mournful echo of battles lost and scars unseen.
All For One's Taunt:
The theater held a heavy silence aside from quiet murmurs and shifting seats. All Might's face was etched with pain and guilt.
A cold, mocking voice cut through—the venom dripping sharply from All For One's words. "Ah, All Might, the symbol of peace, the great mentor… but did you truly see your student's suffering? Or did your shining image blind you to the darkness he endured? Perhaps I, the master of shadows, understand mentorship better than you ever will."
The audience shifted uneasily at the jab, the tension thickening.
Bakugo's Perspective:
In contrast, Bakugo's mind was a blaze of biting honesty.
Attempted murder? His smirk curled disdainfully. I don't kill because I want to—I break so the weak understand strength isn't a game. If you're in my way, get out. I won't apologize for survival.
ASSAULT AND BATTERY
Midoriya's Perspective:
The sting of his fists, thunderous and angry, seared into Midoriya's mind. Therapy rooms cold and sterile, voices raised over anger management drills. Each battle, both physical and mental, etched deeper into his psyche.
Midoriya's breath hitched violently, hands trembling as memories slammed into him—fractured glass, broken promises, desperate nights.
His vision tunneled, colors drained to grayscale. The air thickened, suffocating, and sound dulled to a muted echo.
Heroes' Reactions:
Recovery Girl folded her arms, her tone sharp and pragmatic. "I see broken bones every day. But broken spirits? Those wounds kill just the same if you ignore them."
Midnight frowned, her voice sharp. "He's a walking time bomb who nobody bothered to defuse. No wonder he lashes out."
Gran Torino adjusted his thick glasses, voice gravelly with measured resolve. "I've trained heroes who could move mountains, but the greatest battle is always the one within. Midoriya's pain is the fiercest war of all."
Bakugo's Perspective:
Bakugo's internal monologue was fierce.
Assault, battery? he thought. That's strength, raw and honest. I don't hide behind pretty words or false smiles.
UNAUTHORIZED QUIRK USE
Narrative:
Lines of stern warnings and harsh penalties flashed across the screen, daily reminders Bakugo had fought against—not just authority but himself.
Heroes' Reactions:
Iida's measured tone resonated throughout the theater. "Rules aren't chains but guidance—a lesson he's struggled to learn."
Villains' Reactions:
Toga leaned back in her seat, amusement playing across her features. "So many rules, and so many broken kids. How could this be anything but a disaster?"
Shigaraki's eyes gleamed in the dim light, a sinister smile twisting his lips. "It's the great lie, isn't it? The heroes sell hope and order, but what they really build is a machine for grinding down souls. Bakugo's just a byproduct, a natural reaction to the system's cruelty."
Toga's grin deepened, her sharp teeth glinting in the flickering light of the screen.
"This isn't about Bakugo alone," she purred, voice lilting with sarcasm. "It's everyone like him—villains who masquerade as heroes."
She tapped a finger against her temple. "Look at what they expect from these kids. Perfection, composure, obedience to rules they never had a say in making. And when those kids shatter, who picks up the pieces? No one."
Bakugo's Perspective:
Unauthorized quirk use? Bakugo scoffed silently. Rules are for losers. I bend 'em, break 'em, 'cause rules don't build heroes—power does.
DESTRUCTION AND HARASSMENT
Midoriya's Perspective:
The smell of scorched property and broken glass assaulted the senses of all watching. Friends hurt in the crossfire of Bakugo's unchecked wrath. The small cruelties, the sleepless nights.
Midoriya saw himself as a child again, small and trembling, crushed beneath Bakugo's relentless verbal attacks. "You'll never be a hero," the voice sneered in his ears over and over, echoing through countless sleepless nights. The pain was raw, the fear suffocating.
Heroes' Reactions:
Uraraka squeezed Midoriya's trembling hand. "We saw the aftermath... felt the pain with him."
Bakugo's Perspective:
Destruction of property? His glare sharpened. Collateral damage. You want some other hero to sweep your mess? I'm not here to play janitor.
Harassment and intimidation? The sneer returned. You call it that; I call it dominance. If you can't handle me, don't stand in my spotlight.
INSUBORDINATION AND RECKLESSNESS
Heroes' Reactions:
All Might's voice was heavy but resolute. "Pride turned into reckless courage. A failure of patience in both teacher and student."
Villains' Reactions:
Shigaraki's tone grew darker, more biting. "They call him reckless, dangerous, but who taught him that might equals right? Who encouraged people to use violence to solve their problems? The system. Their precious 'symbol of peace'—All Might."
Dabi watched calmly, flames faintly licking his fingertips as he spoke with a voice like smoke curling through the air. "He's angry enough to burn down everything. His explosions aren't chaos; they're screams for recognition, for freedom from these chains called hero society."
Dabi's laughter rose—dark and resonant. "The world doesn't understand heroes like him. They want angels with spotless wings, but life's darker than that. We embrace the fury because it's real."
The villains' voices merged into a chorus of somber truths and bitter laughter, each word cutting through the theater's fragile calm.
Bakugo's Perspective:
Reckless endangerment? Mocking laughter filled Bakugo's thoughts. If I don't push limits, how will I grow? I risk it all because I'm not here to be safe—I'm here to be the best.
CONFRONTATION IN THE THEATER
With every accusation, every list unfolded by Bat-Mite, Bakugo's pulse beat with ruthless pride.
Todoroki, no longer able to contain his fury, rose from his seat. The temperature in the theater dropped noticeably as frost crept along his right side, while steam rose from his left. He crossed the aisle with deliberate, measured steps, eyes locked on Bakugo with unwavering intensity.
"Get up," Todoroki commanded, his voice carrying the weight of barely contained ice.
Bakugo stood, matching his glare with equal intensity. "What's your problem, Half-and-Half?"
Without warning, Todoroki closed the distance. He tackled Bakugo, driving him backward into the armrest of a seat. The impact knocked the wind from Bakugo's lungs, but he recovered quickly. Todoroki's fist came next, a brutal punch aimed at Bakugo's jaw that connected with force. Bakugo staggered back, tasting blood, fire flashing in his eyes, but the defiance in his expression didn't waver.
"Answer me. Say it. Do you regret it?" Todoroki demanded, his voice like ice, fist still clenched at his side.
Bakugo spat blood to the side, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His breath came rough and ragged, voice raw with unshakeable pride. "Regret? I don't know the meaning of the word. I did what had to be done. Weakness won't get you anywhere in this damn world."
No remorse showed in his burning eyes.
No hesitation clouded his fiery mind.
If anything, the accusations sparked a darker, more intense flame.
His voice rose with anger and absolute certainty. "I'm not broken. I'm not a villain or a failure. I'm the fucking storm. And I'm coming for the top, no matter who gets crushed in the process."
You think I'll bow down because of your judgments? he snarled inwardly. I'm the storm you never saw coming. I don't apologize. I don't regret. I take what's mine by any means necessary.
Todoroki held his gaze, voice cold yet steady. "You're burning yourself out. Fury won't carry you through forever."
Bakugo sneered, letting spit fall deliberately before him as a show of defiance. "I don't care. I'll fight through every goddamn storm until I'm number one. That's not ambition—that's destiny."
Behind his fierce mask of pride and aggression was honesty—brutal, unfiltered, and uncompromising—and a resolve none could shatter.