(A/N: I tried to make this longer, for the fights but it was kinda way to easy to make them, and simple to make fully).
The atmosphere in the monitor room was thick, a volatile cocktail of awe and lingering shock.
Bakugo stood in the far corner, his shadow long and jagged against the concrete wall. He wasn't screaming; he wasn't even looking at the screens. He was staring at his own trembling palms, the scent of burnt nitroglycerin still clinging to his skin like a brand of failure.
Near the back, Izuku was frantically scribbling, but his eyes kept darting toward Shizuka.
Shizuka stood at the rear of the room, her presence a cool, silver anchor. She didn't resemble a student who had just prevailed in a scuffle; she appeared as a statue carved from celestial stone.
"Match Number Two!" All Might's voice boomed, though the usual heroic vibrato wavered for a fraction of a second as his gaze lingered on the scorched monitor showing the aftermath of Bakugo's explosion. "Team J as Heroes! Team C as Villains! Begin!"
On the main screen, Mina and Sero were high-fiving at the entrance of Building A.
"Okay, Sero-san!" Mina chirped, her pink skin glowing under the afternoon sun. "The plan is speed! We're calling it 'Stick and Slide!' You tape up the corridors to slow them down, and I'll lay down an acid track so we can skate right past whatever traps they've got!"
"Got it, Ashido-san!" Sero grinned, his elbows already poised. "With your mobility and my restraint power, we'll have that bomb secured before Sato-kun can even finish his first sugar rush!"
They moved into the building with a burst of kinetic optimism. In the monitor room, the students watched with interest, but Shizuka closed her eyes. She didn't need the cameras.
Through The Force, the building was a hollow shell filled with flickering lights. In the foyer, there were two bright, dancing sparks—Mina and Sero. But higher up, on the fourth floor, there was something else.
Shoto Todoroki was a frozen well; his presence in The Force was a deep, jagged canyon of ice, masking a roiling, suppressed sun on his left side that he refused to acknowledge. The discord was deafening to Shizuka's senses—a spiritual fracture that made her teeth ache.
"Sato," Todoroki's voice came through the comms, cold and flat. "Stay by the weapon. Don't touch anything."
Rikido blinked, his bulky frame looking out of place in the small room. "Wait, shouldn't we set up a perimeter? Sero's tape is—"
"It won't be necessary."
Shoto walked to the stairwell. He didn't hurry. He moved with the grim, mechanical certainty of a glacier. He reached the third-floor landing and stopped. Slowly, he moved, placing his right hand against the wall.
In the monitor room, Shizuka's eyes opened.
"Brace yourselves," she told the class.
CRACK-THOOM!
It wasn't a battle.
A massive, crystalline wave of ice erupted from Shotos palm, surging through the building's skeletal structure. In the monitor room, the thermal cameras instantly washed out into a blinding, solid wall of blue. The sound through the speakers was a terrifying groan—the sound of steel and concrete shrieking as they contracted under a sub-zero assault.
Mina and Sero hadn't even reached the second floor. They didn't have time to scream. The ice chased them down the hallway like a living predator. In a heartbeat, the third floor was transformed into a frozen cavern.
Mina was trapped mid-stride, her acid-slicked feet frozen into the floor, the ice rising to her chin. Sero was pinned against a pillar, his elbows encased in jagged frost.
"Ch-ch-ch-cold!" Mina's teeth clattered like a telegraph.
"I... can't... breathe..." Sero gasped, his breath hitching in a cloud of white mist.
Todoroki exhaled, a long, misty sigh. He walked down the stairs, his boots crunching on the frost. He didn't look at them as he passed. He simply reached out, touched Sero's frozen shoulder to signify a capture, and continued toward the exit.
"The Villain Team wins!" All Might announced, his voice sounding genuinely shaken.
The monitor room was dead silent. The scale of the power was staggering.
Bakugo was staring at the screen, his pupils dilated to pinpricks. His world was falling apart. First, the "Space Freak" had pinned him without effort. Now, this half-and-half bastard had ended a match in five seconds without breaking a sweat. He felt a jagged, sulfurous spike of resentment.
Izuku was muttering, his pen nearly tearing through the paper. "The thermal output... the rapid expansion... such mastery over his own Quirk…."
"It is not control, Izuku," Shizuka corrected, using his first name with a soft, guiding weight. "It is repression. Feel his emotions and remember his Quirk. He wields Fire and Ice yet there is a deep discord in him. Something that prevents him from using his fire. Until he heals the split, his power is a burden not an ally."
Going back to her past memories, Shizuka had read the reason why… but at the same time, that kind of anger, that hatred could get others killed. He has to bring his fire out.
Izuku looked at Todoroki on the screen, who was now indifferently melting the ice with a touch. "A burden... like a curse?"
"Precisely. Power without purpose is just a gilded cage."
"Next! Match Three! Team D as Heroes! Team G as Villains!"
The screens flickered to life. Momo Yaoyorozu and Yuga Aoyama were already in position. Momo's face was the picture of focused intensity. She wasn't just building a defence; she was engineering a kill-box.
"Aoyama-san, please take your position at the end of the primary corridor," Momo commanded, her hands glowing as she pulled complex components from her skin. "I am installing automated capture-net turrets and pressure-sensitive flooring. If they breach the door, your Navel Laser will provide the suppressive fire needed to force them into the traps."
"Merci, Yaomomo! My sparkle shall be the final thing they see!" Aoyama struck a pose, his belt sparking.
Outside, Tenya Iida and Mashiro Ojiro were strategising.
"Ojiro-kun," Iida said, his engines idling with a low thrum. "The most logical defence for Yaoyorozu-san is a fortified position. My speed is ineffective if I am caught in a snare. I need you to create a breach."
Ojiro nodded, his large tail thumping the ground. "I'll act as the vanguard. My martial arts are suited for close-quarters dismantling. You just wait for the signal."
The buzzer sounded. Ojiro moved first. He entered the hallway like a whirlwind. When Aoyama fired his Navel Laser, Ojiro didn't retreat. He used his tail to pivot, spinning through the air with acrobatic grace. He used the momentum to strike the wall, launching himself toward the first automated turret.
Clang!
With a precise strike of his tail, he crushed the turret's sensor. He moved with a quiet, rhythmic efficiency that caught Shizuka's eye.
"He's like a dancer," Shizuka noted from the monitor room. "Look at his centre of gravity. It never wavers." She watched Ojiro with genuine respect.
Ojiro was "quiet." He didn't have the loud, screaming energy of Bakugo or the fractured cold of Todoroki. He was disciplined. If he were Force-sensitive, she mused, he would make a remarkable Padawan. He understands that the body is a temple of motion.
"Now, Iida-kun!" Ojiro shouted, pinning Aoyama behind a pillar.
"RECIPRO BURST!"
Iida vanished as a trail of blue flames erupted from his calves. For three seconds, he was a silver streak that defied the cameras. He bypassed the capture nets before they could deploy and ignored the pressure plates.
Momo had just finished a metal shield, but Iida was already behind her. His hand touched the cold metal of the nuclear weapon.
"HERO TEAM WINS!"
In the analysis, Shizuka spoke up. "Iida-san's speed was the finishing blow, but Ojiro-san was the architect of that victory. He dismantled a superior tactical position through sheer discipline. That is the mark of a true warrior."
Match 4 was a study in sensory warfare. Tsuyu and Tokoyami were a formidable pair. Tsuyu clung to the ceiling, her camouflage making her nearly invisible, while Tokoyami sat in the centre of the room, Dark Shadow looming over him like a vengeful spirit.
"We are the shadow in the dark, Ribbit," Tsuyu whispered.
Outside, Kyoka Jiro knelt, plugging her earphone jacks into the wall. Mezo Shoji stood behind her, his duplicated ears twitching.
"I have them," Jiro whispered. "Third floor, North-East corner. One is stationary... the other is... pulsing? It's a strange heartbeat."
"That's Dark Shadow," Shoji replied. "I can hear the rustle of feathers in the rafters. Asui-san is above."
They entered with a plan. Jiro didn't aim for the villains; she aimed for the building. She slammed her jacks into a structural pillar and unleashed a "Heartbeat Distortion."
The concrete began to hum. In the monitor room, the students could see the air shimmering with sonic frequency. Dark Shadow, being a sentient energy construct, was hyper-sensitive to the vibration. The spirit began to wail, its form flickering like a dying candle as the frequency disrupted its cohesion.
"Now, Shoji-san!"
Shoji rushed in, his massive frame blocking the disoriented Dark Shadow, while Jiro used a second pulse to pinpoint Tsuyu's location in the rafters. Before the frog-girl could leap, Jiro had her cornered with a sonic burst that rattled her equilibrium.
"Heroes Win!"
"Precision," Shizuka murmured. "Jiro-san understood that her enemy wasn't the boy, but the frequency of his power. Impressive."
"Final Match! Team E as Heroes! Team B as Villains!"
The room grew quiet as Izuku and Kirishima stepped onto the field. Across from them were Uraraka and Kaminari.
"Alright, Midoriya! This is it!" Kirishima slammed his fists together, activating his hardening with a sound like grinding stones. "Man, everyone else has been so flashy. Moriya-san with the Force, Todoroki with the ice... we gotta show 'em what we're made of! What's the plan?"
Izuku stood at the entrance to the building, his green costume slightly loose around his shoulders. He closed his eyes.
Usually, his mind would be a hurricane of mutterings—analysing Kaminari's voltage limits, Uraraka's weight capacities, the tensile strength of the flooring. But today, the 'static' that usually clouded his thoughts was damp.
He took a breath. In. Out.
He remembered Shizuka's voice in the cafeteria. 'Instead of letting my mind jump randomly, I anchor it to the Force... I track the breath... the hum...'
He felt it. Faintly. The buzz of the electricity waiting in Kaminari's veins on the fourth floor. The nervous, floating lightness of Uraraka.
"Kaminari-san is going to turn the objective room into a kill-box," Izuku said, his voice surprisingly steady. He opened his eyes, and they were clear. "He has a wide-range discharge. If we walk in there, we get fried. Uraraka-san will likely use floating debris as a secondary defence."
"So we're walking into a trap?" Kirishima grinned, showing his shark-like teeth. "Sounds manly."
"Not if we change the rules," Izuku replied. "Kirishima-kun, your Hardening... it insulates you, right?"
"Yeah! I can take heat, shock, blades—you name it!"
"Then you're the shield," Izuku said, formulating the strategy with a newfound fluidity. "When we breach, you take point. You draw Kaminari's fire. You become the lightning rod."
"And you?"
"I flow," Izuku said simply. "I move through the gaps."
Inside the bomb room, Denki Kaminari was pacing. "Okay, Uraraka-chan, I'm gonna turn this whole floor into an electric chair. If they step in, they fry! You just float those heavy pillars and drop 'em if I miss!"
"Got it, Kaminari-kun!" Uraraka touched a pile of heavy industrial pipes, making them float near the ceiling. She looked determined, though her fingers trembled slightly. "I won't let Deku-kun win easily!"
The buzzer sounded.
"HERO TEAM, START!"
Izuku and Kirishima moved. They didn't run blindly. They moved with a synchronized rhythm. Izuku felt the layout of the building—not through blueprints, but through the subtle echo of the Force. He knew where to turn.
They reached the fourth floor. The air was already tasting of ozone.
"Ready?" Kirishima asked, hardening his skin until he looked like a jagged, red golem.
"Now," Izuku whispered.
Kirishima kicked the door open.
"1.3 MILLION VOLTS!" Kaminari shouted instantly, panic and adrenaline overriding his trigger discipline.
A blinding web of yellow electricity filled the room. It arced from the walls, the ceiling, the floor—a chaotic storm of pure voltage.
"INDUCTIBLE DISCHARGE!" Kaminari screamed.
But Kirishima stepped forward. He stood like a monolith in the centre of the doorway. The electricity, seeking the path of least resistance, arced toward him. He roared, his hardened skin acting as a ground, absorbing and deflecting the raw energy into the floor. He was a jagged mountain in a lightning storm, unmoving, unbreakable.
"Wh-what?!" Kaminari gasped, his brain short-circuiting from the massive output. "He's... not... dropping?!"
"MY TURN!" Kirishima yelled, charging forward to grapple the stunned electric user.
While Kaminari was focused on the unmovable object, he missed the unstoppable flow.
Izuku moved.
He didn't rush with his usual frantic, bone-breaking energy. He breathed. Five percent.
The green lightning of One For All crackled around him, but it didn't look violent. It looked like a second skin. He leaped off the doorframe, kicking off the wall to bypass the electrified floor.
"Release!" Uraraka shouted.
The heavy pipes she had floated dropped from the ceiling, a rain of steel meant to crush the intruder.
In the monitor room, Bakugo watched, waiting for the nerd to panic. Waiting for him to break an arm trying to punch the steel.
But Izuku didn't punch.
He sensed the falling debris before it entered his vision—a ripple in the Force warning him of the displaced air.
He spun in mid-air. He caught the first pipe with the sole of his boot, using the momentum to kick off it, propelling himself deeper into the room.
He twisted his body, sliding through a gap between two falling concrete slabs with the grace of water flowing around a stone.
"He's... dancing?" Mina whispered in the monitor room.
"No," Shizuka said softly, a small, rare smile touching her lips. "He is conducting."
Uraraka's eyes widened. "Deku-kun?!"
She tried to float herself to intercept him, but Izuku was already there. He didn't strike her. He landed in a crouch, used the stored kinetic energy in his legs to spring upward, vaulting over her head.
He landed in front of the nuclear weapon. The green sparks faded from his skin.
He reached out and placed his hand on the papier-mâché bomb.
"HERO TEAM WINS!" All Might announced.
Izuku stood there, chest heaving slightly, staring at his hand. It wasn't broken. His legs weren't shattered. He had navigated a zone of lethal electricity and falling steel without taking a single hit.
He looked up at the camera, a look of pure, bewildered joy on his face.
In the monitor room, Shizuka nodded once, proud of Izuku's progress already.
The school day ended with the orange glow of twilight bathing the U.A. campus in a warm, nostalgic light. The students of Class 1-A were filtering out, exhausted but buzzing with the adrenaline of their first real heroics class.
Shizuka waited near the shoe lockers. She had changed back into her uniform, the lightsaber once again clipped to her waist, concealed beneath her blazer. She watched the students pass—Bakugo, who stormed out without a word, his pride bruised but his spirit clearly plotting its revenge; Todoroki, who walked alone, a solitary island of ice; and finally, Izuku.
He was walking with Uraraka and Iida, laughing at something Uraraka had said, but his eyes were constantly searching the crowd. When he spotted Shizuka, he froze.
"Iida-kun, Uraraka-san, go on ahead," Izuku said, his voice brimming with a new kind of confidence. "I... I have something I need to talk to Moriya-san about."
"Of course, Midoriya-kun!" Iida said, chopping the air. "A debrief between allies is highly logical!"
Once they were gone, Izuku approached her. He looked like a different person than the boy who had walked into Class 1-A that morning.
"Moriya-san," he said, bowing low. "Thank you. For what you said at lunch. I... I felt it today. It helped a lot."
Shizuka looked at him, her silver eyes softening. "You took the first step, Izuku. You chose to listen instead of shout. But that was a controlled environment. The real world is not so accommodating."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, handwritten slip of paper. "Take this."
Izuku took the paper, his fingers brushing hers. It was a phone number.
"Meet me at the Tythonian Ridge at 7:00 PM tonight," Shizuka said, her voice dropping into a resonant hum. "It's in the wooded hills behind the Dagobah Municipal Beach Park. It is a secluded place, but The Force is strong there. It is where we will begin your real training."
Izuku's eyes widened. "The real training?"
"You have the seeds of a Guardian, Izuku. But you need to learn how to tend the garden." Shizuka turned to leave, her golden hair catching the last of the sunlight. "Do not be late. And Izuku?"
"Yes?"
"Bring your notebook. You'll have a lot to record."
She walked away, leaving Izuku standing in the twilight, the paper clutched in his hand like a sacred relic.
Meanwhile, Shizuka's mind was on the time.
The train ride to the Nighteye Agency was a blur of urban grey and sunset gold. Shizuka stood near the doors, her reflection in the glass looking back with silver, tired eyes.
She checked her phone, the screen showing her the time of 16:25. She had been 5 minutes late.
She hurried through the lobby, her boots clicking softly on the polished marble. When she reached the lounge, she didn't hear the usual silence of a high-end office. She heard... giggling.
The elevator doors hissed open, and Shizuka stepped into the lobby. She was five minutes late—a minor catastrophe by Sir Nighteye's standards, and a frustrating lapse in her own discipline. She adjusted her blazer, ensuring the hilt of her lightsaber was tucked out of sight, and moved toward the lounge.
The sound that met her wasn't the sterile tapping of keyboards or Mirai's stern dictation. It was the high, melodic sound of a child's laughter, punctuated by a deep, wheezing sound that could only be described as a repressed chuckle.
Shizuka paused at the doorway, her Force-senses washing over the room.
Mirai Sasaki, the man feared by villains for his cold, prophetic gaze, was currently sitting on a low ottoman. He was wearing a pair of oversized, glittery pink cat-ear headbands. Eri was standing on the sofa behind him, carefully "styling" his perfectly slicked hair with a collection of All Might-themed hair clips.
"No, Uncle Mirai," Eri said, her voice small but commanding. "You have to smile. All Might says a hero always smiles so the people aren't scared. If you look grumpy, the Force will get dusty."
"Eri-chan," Nighteye replied, his voice a strained attempt at its usual monotone, "I assure you, my facial muscles are currently arranged in a configuration that denotes maximum approachability. And I believe we have reached the limit of 'clips' the human scalp can support."
"Just one more," Eri insisted, clipping a tiny 'Texas Smash' emblem right onto his fringe. "There! Now you look like a Hero of Light."
Shizuka leaned against the doorframe, a soft smile on her face. "I don't know, Eri. I think he might need a bit more glitter before he can claim that title."
Eri's head snapped toward the door. Her eyes lit up with a brilliance that outshone any quirk. "MAMA!"
The girl scrambled off the sofa, her sea-green shoes thumping against the carpet as she sprinted toward Shizuka. Shizuka knelt just in time to catch the small, bluish off-white-haired whirlwind. The impact nearly sent her tumbling backward.
"You're late," Eri muffled as she pushed herself into Shizuka's shoulder, her small arms squeezing with surprising strength. "I counted the clock ticks. It was three hundred and one ticks."
"I am sorry, princess," Shizuka whispered, pulling back to tuck a stray lock of Eri's hair behind her horn. "All Might wasn't used to teaching and it was his first day today."
Mirai stood up slowly, the pink cat ears bobbing with every movement. He looked ridiculous, yet he didn't immediately remove them. He adjusted his glasses, peering over them at Shizuka with his usual analytical intensity.
"Sixteen-twenty-five and forty seconds, Moriya-san. I had predicted your arrival at sixteen-twenty, but I suppose the 'All Might Factor' is the one variable even foresight struggles to quantify."
Shizuka stood, keeping a protective hand on Eri's shoulder. "I apologise for the delay, Mirai-san. And I see you've been busy... adapting your office culture."
Nighteye looked at the cat ears in the reflection of a framed All Might poster. "Eri-chan was persistent. She informed me that my 'aura' was too grey and that it needed more 'sparkle' to attract the positive current of the Force. I found her logic to be... irrefutable."
Eri giggled, hugging Shizuka's leg. "He let me use the special glitter pens, too! Look, Mama!"
She pointed to a drawing on the coffee table. It was a crude but colourful depiction of two figures—one tall with golden hair and a bluish-green stick and one small figure with a horn. They were surrounded by a swirling blue cloud.
"It's us," Eri said proudly. "In The Force ocean."
Shizuka's chest tightened—a warm, blooming ache. "It's beautiful, Eri. Truly."
"Centipeder is making tea," Eri added, tugging on Shizuka's hand. "He said he'd bring the biscuits with the jam in the middle. Sit down! Tell me about school! Did you save anyone?"
Shizuka allowed herself to be led to the sofa. Nighteye remained standing, leaning against his desk, though he finally reached up and removed the cat ears, placing them carefully beside a bust of All Might.
The lounge of the Nighteye Agency was an oasis of warmth in a building dedicated to cold logic. As Centipeder drifted in with a tray of tea and the promised jam biscuits, Shizuka felt the tension of the day—the jagged heat of Bakugo's rage and the icy discord of Todoroki—begin to melt away.
"Eat, Mama," Eri commanded, pushing a biscuit toward Shizuka's mouth. "You look like you fought a big monster."
Shizuka took a small bite, the sweetness of the jam a welcome contrast to the metallic tang of the training ground. "Not a monster, Eri. Just a very loud boy who hasn't learned how to be quiet yet."
"Is it the boy with the boom-palms?" Mirai asked, his eyes sharp as he took a seat across from them. He gestured for Centipeder to set the tea. "I watched the live feed from the U.A. servers. Your performance was... efficient. Though I suspect Nezu will have a few questions regarding the structural integrity of his building after that explosion."
Shizuka sighed, brushing a crumb from her lip. "Bakugo-san is a force of nature without a rudder. I did what was necessary to ground him. But Midoriya-san... he is different. He's starting to listen."
Eri tilted her head, her big, curious eyes fixed on Shizuka. "Is he the one with the green sparkles? You said his heart sounds like a drum."
"He is," Shizuka nodded. "And today, he learned how to play the drum instead of just hitting it."
"That's good," Eri said solemnly, reaching for her own tea—mostly milk and honey. "I don't like when things are too loud. Like the bad man. He was always loud, even when he was whispering."
A shadow passed over the room at the mention of the "bad man"—Overhaul. Even after two years of safety, the phantom of Chisaki's cruelty occasionally flickered in Eri's eyes. Nighteye's expression softened, a rare ripple of genuine empathy crossing his features.
"You've done a remarkable job with her, Moriya-san," Mirai said softly. "Her progress in the social-integration programme is statistically improbable given her history. It seems your 'Force' has a way of mending more than just broken objects."
"The Force is life, Mirai-san," Shizuka replied, her hand instinctively finding Eri's. "It flows where it is needed. Eri didn't need a Jedi; she just needed to know that the world isn't a cage."
Eri leaned against Shizuka's side, the warmth of the tea making her sleepy. "Mama? When I grow up, can I go to the hero school too? I want to help people breathe, like you did for the green boy."
Shizuka felt a lump in her throat. She looked down at the girl who had been her daughter in every way that mattered. "You can be whatever you choose to be, Eri. But being a hero isn't just about school. You're already a hero to me."
"I don't have the Force, though," Eri whispered, looking at her small, pale hands. "I tried to move the spoon like you do. I focused really hard until my head felt tingly, but the spoon just stayed there. It was a very stubborn spoon."
Shizuka chuckled, pulling Eri into a closer embrace. "You don't need the Force to be special, princess. You have your own light. Your Quirk is a gift of time that comes from The Force."
Nighteye cleared his throat, his glasses glinting. "Eri-chan, the ability to make a man of my standing wear pink cat ears is a feat of psychological manipulation that even the most seasoned villains would envy. I would say your 'power' is quite formidable."
Eri giggled, the sound bright and clear. "That's because you have a funny aura, Uncle Mirai. It's all stiff, like a board. I just had to bend it a little."
"I shall endeavour to be less... 'board-like' in the future," Mirai noted, though his lips twitched upward.
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the clink of teacups and the distant hum of the city outside.
Eri's eyelids began to flutter, the weight of the day finally catching up to her. She let out a tiny, contented sigh and curled into a ball, her head resting on Shizuka's lap. The blue-white hair fanned out over Shizuka's uniform like a silk veil.
Shizuka ran a hand through the girl's hair, her touch as light as a breeze. She looked at Mirai, who was watching them with a look of quiet, professional satisfaction.
"She's asleep," Shizuka whispered.
"Then it's about time you had home." Mirai had said and Shizuka indeed.
Shizuka stood up carefully, lifting the sleeping girl into her arms. Eri didn't wake; she simply tucked her face into the crook of Shizuka's neck, one small hand clutching Shizuka's blazer.
"Goodnight, Mirai-san," Shizuka said, pausing at the door.
"Goodnight,Shizuka," Mirai replied.
As Shizuka walked toward the elevator, the Agency was quiet. Through the glass walls, the lights of Musutafu were beginning to twinkle, a thousand tiny stars reflecting the vastness of the universe.
She stepped into the elevator, the doors closing on the day. As the lift descended, Shizuka closed her eyes, letting the current carry her home.