[Third Person POV]
**Underground Facility Beneath Jaku General Hospital**
The sterile hum of machinery filled the dimly lit laboratory, where rows of monitors displayed flickering data streams and surveillance footage. Dr. Kyudai Garaki hunched over his desk, his grotesque features illuminated by the cold blue glow of multiple screens. His beady eyes fixated on one particular video—a compilation of combat footage from the U.A. Sports Festival.
Lightning crackled across the screen in brilliant yellow arcs. A blonde teenager moved faster than the camera could properly track, leaving afterimages that blurred into streaks of light.
The impact of his strikes sent shockwaves rippling through the air. The doctor's twisted smile widened with each replay.
"Fascinating," Garaki muttered while adjusting his glasses as he leaned closer. "Absolutely fascinating. Super speed combined with lightning generation... yet officially registered as mere 'Electrification.'" He tapped the screen where Kaminari Denki's profile information glowed. "Such potential hidden behind such a mundane classification."
"His Quirk truly is fascinating, isn't it, Doctor?"
The deep and commanding voice resonated through the chamber like distant thunder. Garaki didn't flinch—he'd grown accustomed to his master's voice.
"It would make an excellent addition to my collection," the voice continued, dripping with dark amusement. "Super speed and lightning generation... imagine the possibilities when combined with some of my Quirks."
Dr. Garaki swiveled his chair around to face the speaker. Standing in the shadows was a tall, imposing figure whose mere presence seemed to drain the warmth from the room. All For One—still recovering from his catastrophic battle with All Might, his body wrapped in life-support apparatus, yet his aura of menace remained undiminished.
"Master," Garaki acknowledged with a slight bow of his head.
All For One stepped forward, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Despite his injuries, he moved with the confidence of someone who'd never truly known defeat—only temporary setbacks.
"It would be even better if we could make him fall to our side," AFO mused, "A hero aspirant turning to villainy... now that's always worth looking forward to. The irony alone would be delicious."
Garaki's grotesque smile widened as he gestured to the stack of documents beside his keyboard. "We've collected extensive data during those two days of the Sports Festival. We can target his family—leverage his emotional attachments." He spread out several papers containing detailed information of Kaminari family records, residential addresses, known associates, patrol routes of his Pro Hero mother.
All For One's laugh was low and chilling, like ice cracking under pressure. "That's our primary option, yes. Appeal to his protective instincts and his fear of loss." His voice hardened. "But if he refuses our generous offer, we'll need to remove him from the board entirely. A sixteen-year-old child who can vaporize a Nomu specifically designed to combat All Might is not something we can afford to ignore or underestimate."
"Agreed," Garaki nodded vigorously, his enthusiasm is almost childlike despite the sinister subject matter. "However, we need to address our more immediate crisis first. Thanks to the Pro Heroes' operation, most of the League of Villains has been wiped out."
As if summoned by those very words, a swirling purple portal materialized in the center of the laboratory. The warp gate expanded with an unsettling warbling sound, and two figures stepped through.
Shigaraki Tomura emerged first, his distinctive pale blue hair disheveled, his perpetually chapped lips pulled back in a snarl. His hand moved compulsively to his neck, scratching at the irritated skin with increasing violence. Behind him, the massive dark form of Kurogiri floated silently, his yellow eyes the only visible feature in his misty body.
"Those damn Pro Heroes!" Shigaraki spat, his voice cracking with barely suppressed rage. His scratching intensified, leaving angry red marks on his pale neck. "They almost got us all! If it wasn't for Kurogiri—"
"Calm yourself, Tomura," All For One's voice cut through the younger villain's rant like a blade through silk.
Shigaraki's hand froze mid-scratch, though his entire body still trembled with fury.
Garaki pulled up additional footage on his monitors. "The day following the Sports Festival finale, the Pro Heroes launched a coordinated assault on your recruitment base. The timing was... unfortunate."
"Unfortunate?" Shigaraki's laugh was bitter and manic. "They knew exactly when to hit us! Right when I'd called in recruits—made it easier for those heroes to capture most of them in one sweep!"
The monitors displayed chaotic battle footage of explosions of flame, the distinctive red feathers of Hawks cutting through the air, Mount Lady's gigantic form blocking escape routes, Aizawa's capture weapon restraining multiple villains simultaneously. And there, at the center of it all, All Might's unmistakable golden presence, still the Symbol of Peace despite his secret weakness.
"All Might showed up," Shigaraki continued, his scratching resuming with renewed vigor. "Along with Endeavor, Hawks, Mount Lady, Eraserhead, and a dozen other top-ranked heroes. It was a massacre." His red eyes gleamed with dangerous light. "We had a few Nomus stationed there as contingencies. Used them to create enough chaos for our escape."
"A tactical retreat," All For One said smoothly. "It's not defeat. There's a crucial difference, Tomura."
"I didn't like running," Shigaraki admitted, forcing his hand away from his neck. "But even I know I can't fight all of them at once and I refuse to be captured again like some common criminal."
"Which shows wisdom," AFO replied, "But focus on the positives, Tomura. Most of your core members escaped successfully."
Dr. Garaki pulled up a new screen, displaying profiles of surviving League members. "Dabi, Twice, Spinner, and Mr. Compress all evaded capture."
Images appeared in sequence.
Dabi - his distinctive patchwork skin and intense blue eyes staring back from the screen. "Cremation Quirk. Exceptional destructive potential."
Twice (Jin Bubaigawara) - his masked face shown in profile. "Double Quirk. Can create perfect copies of anyone. Extremely valuable for infiltration and overwhelming opponents through numbers."
Spinner (Shuichi Iguchi) - the lizard-like heteromorph wielding multiple blades. "Gecko Quirk. Enhanced mobility and weapon expertise."
Mr. Compress (Atsuhiro Sako) - the theatrical villain in his signature mask and top hat. "Compress Quirk. Spatial manipulation for transport and combat applications."
"These four have Quirks and potential rivaling established Pro Heroes," Garaki noted with satisfaction.
"Additionally," Dr. Garaki continued, clearly pleased, "the fall of the Shie Hassaikai provided an unexpected recruitment opportunity. Several of Overhaul's former subordinates have joined our cause, and because they weren't at the base during the raid, they remain free."
More profiles appeared on screen.
Kendo Rappa - the muscular brawler with his distinctive mask.
Hekiji Tengai - the calm and calculating barrier user.
Shin Nemoto - the interrogation specialist.
Deidoro Sakaki - the drunken fighter with his disorienting Quirk.
Yu Hojo - the crystallization user.
"Former Hassaikai members who joined the League and avoided capture because they didn't attend that fateful meeting," Garaki explained. "They bring additional combat power and specialized skills."
Shigaraki studied the faces on screen, his expression slowly shifting from rage to calculation. "So we're down to these ten, plus Kurogiri and myself. Everyone else is in custody."
"A leaner organization," AFO observed, "but concentrated quality rather than diluted quantity. Now then—" his voice took on a sharper edge, "—how did the heroes locate your base so precisely? We checked both of you for tracking devices immediately after your escape from custody."
Dr. Garaki turned his analytical gaze to Shigaraki. "Kurogiri doesn't have a physical body vulnerable to tracking devices. Which means, Tomura, you're the only viable candidate for implantation. Did you experience anything unusual in the two weeks since your escape from custody? Any medical procedures, unexpected illnesses, strange symptoms?"
Shigaraki's brow furrowed in concentration, his hand moving reflexively toward his neck before he caught himself. "Nothing strange during those two weeks. I made sure to check for..." His eyes suddenly widened, the color draining from his already pale face. "Wait. Two days ago, I had this weird stomach pain, but then—"
His hand shot down toward his rear end and his expression transforming into absolute fury.
"THOSE BASTARDS!" Shigaraki's scream echoed through the facility. "They put a tracker in my body! Through my ass! I'LL KILL THEM! I'LL DISINTEGRATE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE HEROES!"
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Dr. Garaki couldn't suppress a slight grimace. "Ingenious, really. An undetectable tracker passed through your digestive system, likely coated to avoid detection by standard means. Probably expelled naturally, but not before transmitting your location for weeks." His scientific curiosity was already engaged. "I need to research this technology. The applications could be—"
"Tomura," All For One's voice cut through both the younger villain's rage and the doctor's rambling. "Calm yourself. You will have your revenge soon enough. And when you do, it will be all the sweeter for the wait."
Shigaraki was practically vibrating with murderous intent, both hands now clawing at his neck hard enough to draw blood. "I swear I'll find out whose idea this was. I'll make them beg. I'll make them suffer for this humiliation!"
"In time," AFO assured him. "Doctor, proceed with our plans for the Kaminari boy."
"Of course, Master."
All For One's attention returned to the screen displaying Denki's profile—action shots of him moving at impossible speeds, surrounded by crackling lightning, his golden eyes sharp with intelligence that seemed far beyond his years.
'This boy...' AFO thought, studying every detail. 'I can see it. The potential for villainy lurks beneath that heroic exterior. That pragmatism, efficiency and that willingness to end fights decisively... with the right pressure, the right motivation, he could become something magnificent on our side.'
His lips curved into a smile beneath his mask. 'First, we'll try to recruit him. Appeal to his intelligence, show him the futility of the hero system, offer him power beyond his imagination. But if that fails...'
The smile widened.
'If he refuses, I'll take his Quirk. Add it to my collection. And then I'll eliminate the threat he represents. I have several Nomus ready with Quirks specifically selected to counter his speed and electrical abilities. We've learned from the USJ incident. This time, there will be no escape. Just an inevitable defeat.'
All For One committed Denki's face to memory—those sharp golden eyes, that confident smirk, that dangerous intelligence practically radiating from the screen.
'One way or another, Kaminari Denki, you will serve my purposes. Whether as an ally... or as another Quirk in my arsenal.'
...
[Denki's POV]
Class 1-A, Later That Day...
The hero name selection dragged on longer than necessary, which was saying something considering we'd already spent way too much time on this yesterday. But hey, at least it was entertaining watching Bakugo get progressively more pissed off as Midnight shot down his increasingly villain-sounding name choices.
'Seriously, "Lord Explosion Murder"? Dude, that's not a hero name, that's a villain title from a bad action manga.'
Todoroki had gone with simply "Shoto," which was boring but practical. Very on-brand for Mr. Half-and-Half.
Finally, mercifully, we finished up.
"Now then, let's talk about your internships," Aizawa-sensei announced, his perpetually exhausted expression somehow looking even more tired than usual. He launched into an explanation of how internships worked, what students who didn't receive nominations should do, the importance of learning from established heroes, blah blah blah.
'I swear, if he mentions "logical ruse" one more time, I'm gonna—'
"So think carefully about where you want to go before you choose," Aizawa concluded, already looking like he regretted having to deal with us. He and Midnight-sensei started distributing papers with our individual nomination lists.
When Midnight reached my desk, she made eye contact and smirked in that way that immediately put me on guard. That smile promised either something amazing or something that would cause me significant trouble.
"I didn't know you'd be this lucky," she purred, placing my paper down with deliberate slowness. "Or maybe it's because you won every single event on your own. Quite the impressive performance, Kaminari-kun."
"Uh, thanks, Sensei," I replied cautiously, watching her saunter away to deliver papers to the other students.
'Okay, what was that about? Why do I suddenly feel like I'm walking into a trap?'
I glanced down at my nomination list and immediately understood Midnight's reaction. My eyes locked onto one name in particular, and my heart rate kicked up a notch.
Rumi Usagiyama - Rabbit Hero: Mirko
'She actually nominated me. She ACTUALLY nominated me!'
I'd been hoping for this, obviously. Who wouldn't want to intern with one of the top and beautiful heroes in Japan?
Now that it was real, sitting right there in black and white, my brain immediately went into analysis mode.
'Okay, let's think this through logically. Pros and cons. Mirko is primarily a melee fighter—kicks, punches, raw physical combat. In terms of technical skill development for my Quirk specifically, she can't teach me much I haven't already figured out on my own.'
I continued scanning the list.
'But her personality is perfect for my training style. She won't coddle me or hold back. And she's fast—really fast. We could have actual speed competitions, push each other to our limits. Plus, she operates solo most of the time, which means more freedom, more autonomy, less bureaucratic nonsense—'
My internal monologue screeched to a halt.
'And absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent NOT because she's attractive. I'm practically dating Momo now. We held hands. We went on that festival date. I'm a taken man. A committed individual. I do not notice such things anymore.'
Even my own thoughts sounded unconvincing.
'Okay, fine, yes, Mirko is objectively gorgeous and has an amazing figure and those legs could probably crush my skull like a watermelon—BUT that's not why I want to intern with her! It's purely professional! Strategic and Combat-oriented!'
I nodded to myself, satisfied with this completely believable justification that nobody, especially not my traitorous teenage hormones, would ever question.
Then another name on the list caught my attention.
Sir Nighteye Agency
'Nighteye... All Might's former sidekick and analytical genius. His Foresight Quirk could provide incredible strategic insights...'
My mind raced through possibilities. Training with Nighteye could give me valuable intel on upcoming threats, help me refine my strategic thinking, maybe even let me subtly influence events to prevent some of the darker timeline outcomes.
'This is actually a tough choice. Mirko for pure combat experience and freedom, or Nighteye for intelligence gathering and strategic development.'
"So, Denki, who did you choose?"
Momo's voice snapped me out of my analysis paralysis. She was leaning slightly toward my desk, her dark eyes curious and that small smile playing at her lips that I was rapidly becoming addicted to seeing.
'Focus, Denki. Form words with your mouth.'
"Rumi Usagiyama—the Rabbit Hero Mirko. Or Sir Nighteye's agency," I replied, keeping my tone casual despite my internal chaos. "Still deciding between them. What about you?"
Momo's expression shifted to thoughtful contemplation, her finger tapping against her chin in that adorable way she did when seriously considering something. "I'm torn between Uwabami and Ryukyu. Since I have time, I thought I should carefully consider which would benefit my development more."
'Oh, thank god she mentioned Ryukyu. This is my chance to nudge fate in the right direction.'
In the original timeline, Momo had lost in the first round and ended up with Uwabami—a hero more focused on publicity and modeling than actual combat training. A complete waste of Momo's potential. But now, thanks to our extra training sessions, she'd made it further and actually had the option to choose Ryukyu.
"I think you should definitely go with Ryukyu," I said, trying to sound helpful rather than suspiciously insistent. "She's a much better combat hero than Uwabami. You'd learn way more practical skills from her. Plus, her agency handles serious missions, not just photo shoots and commercial work."
Momo nodded slowly, clearly taking my suggestion seriously. "You make a good point. Ryukyu does have an excellent reputation for developing young heroes' combat abilities."
"Exactly! And between you and me," I leaned in conspiratorially, lowering my voice, "Uwabami is basically a celebrity hero who uses her interns as accessories for modeling gigs. Total waste of your talent."
A small laugh escaped Momo's lips, her hand covering her mouth. "Kaminari! That's rather harsh."
"Harsh but true," I grinned back.
Across the classroom, I could see Eijiro and Mina huddled together, comparing their nomination lists and debating choices.
"Yo, Denki!" Eijiro called out, waving his paper. "Did you see how many nominations I got? That's insane, man!"
"It's good!" I called back. "But did you decide where you're going yet?"
"Thinking about Fourth Kind's agency," Eijiro replied, his shark-tooth grin wide. "Seems like the kind of place that would really push me to be more manly!"
'Good choice, actually. Fourth Kind is tough but effective. Eijiro will benefit from that kind of discipline.'
Mina chimed in, bouncing slightly in her seat with excitement. "I'm looking at Selkie's agency! Maritime rescue sounds so cool!"
I gave them both a thumbs up before my attention drifted toward Midoriya.
The green-haired analyst was hunched over his desk, completely absorbed in studying his nomination list. Even from here, I could see his hands trembling slightly with what was probably a mixture of excitement and overwhelming anxiety.
'He got around 2,000 applications. All those scouts saw his potential, even if his performance was... chaotic.'
My eyes narrowed slightly as I watched him. 'The best choice for him is obviously Gran Torino. The old man knows about One For All, has the experience to properly train Midoriya in using it, and won't accept any of his self-destructive nonsense. Sir Nighteye would be another solid option, though that might complicate things timeline-wise.'
I felt the familiar weight of meta-knowledge pressing down on my shoulders. 'But it's his choice to make. I can't control everything, can't orchestrate every single decision. That way lies madness and the inevitable moment when the universe decides to kick me in the balls for trying to play god.'
Still, if Midoriya asked for advice, I'd definitely steer him toward Gran Torino.
The rest of the day proceeded with mind-numbing normalcy. Classes blurred together in a monotonous parade of lectures, notes, and the occasional training exercise that barely qualified as a warm-up compared to my usual regimen.
'God, I miss the entertainment of the Sports Festival already. But not every day can be a villain attack or a Sports Festival. Sometimes heroism is just... school, paperwork and normal teenage stuff.'
When the final bell rang at 3 PM, I practically leaped from my seat.
'Thank you, Japanese education system, for ending school at a reasonable hour. In my previous life, high school was legit torture—stuck in that building until 6 or 7 PM like some kind of academic prison sentence.'
I grabbed my bag and turned to Momo, who was gracefully organizing her materials. "Hey, want to grab ice cream with Eijiro, Mina, and me? My treat."
Her face lit up with that genuine smile that made my stomach do weird flips. "I'd love to, Kamanari. Thank you for inviting me."
We met up with Eijiro and Mina at the school gates, the four of us walking together toward the nearby shopping district. The spring weather was perfect—warm but not hot, with a gentle breeze carrying the scent of blooming cherry blossoms.
"Man, internships are gonna be intense," Eijiro said, stretching his arms above his head. "I'm pumped!"
"You're always pumped," Mina teased, poking his side. "I swear you operate on a single emotion: enthusiastic determination."
"And what's wrong with that?" Eijiro shot back, grinning.
"Nothing! It's super manly!" Mina laughed.
I caught Momo's eye and we shared an amused look, the kind of silent communication that felt surprisingly natural between us.
The ice cream shop owner recognized us immediately as we walked in, his weathered face breaking into a warm smile. "Ah, if it isn't U.A.'s rising stars! The Sports Festival was incredible to watch!"
"Thanks!" we all replied in varying degrees of enthusiasm.
"Your usual, Kaminari-kun? Butterscotch?" the owner asked, already reaching for the scooper.
"You know it!" I confirmed, leaning against the counter.
Momo ordered matcha with red bean—while Eijiro went for chocolate and Mina chose strawberry. We grabbed our cones and claimed our favorite table by the window, the afternoon sunlight streaming in and painting everything golden.
For a while, we just enjoyed the ice cream and each other's company, trading jokes and speculation about internships.
"So Denki," Mina said, pointing her spoon at me with a mischievous glint in her eye, "Mirko, huh? Interesting choice."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, immediately defensive.
"Oh nothing," Mina's grin widened. "Just that Mirko is super famous for being, you know, gorgeous and badass. Mostly gorgeous."
"I'm choosing her for her combat expertise and training methodology," I replied with as much dignity as I could muster while Eijiro started snickering.
"Sure you are," Mina winked.
Momo's spoon clinked against her cup slightly harder than necessary, though her expression remained perfectly neutral. "I think it's a strategic choice," she said, her tone just a touch cooler than before. "Mirko's speed-based combat style would complement Denki's abilities well."
'Is... is Momo jealous? That's adorable and also oh god I need to fix this.'
"Exactly!" I jumped on Momo's defense like a lifeline. "It is professional development. Nothing to do with anything else whatsoever."
Eijiro was barely containing his laughter now, his shoulders shaking. "Dude, you're making it worse."
"Shut up and eat your ice cream," I muttered, taking an aggressive bite of my butterscotch cone.
Momo's lips twitched upward slightly, and I saw the tension leave her shoulders.
We continued chatting, the conversation flowing naturally between hero talk, speculation about our classmates' choices, and Mina's increasingly wild theories about what kind of training we'd each receive.
"I bet Mirko just kicks people until they get stronger," Mina declared confidently.
"That's... actually probably accurate," I admitted.
The sun slowly descended toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. My butterscotch ice cream was perfectly creamy, the company was great, and for once, everything felt normal. Peaceful. Like maybe I could just be a regular teenager enjoying an afternoon with friends and his... whatever Momo and I were officially calling this.
'Girlfriend? Dating? Seeing each other? I should probably clarify that at this point. You know, with actual words. That thing normal people do.'
I glanced at Momo, who was delicately working on her matcha ice cream, and felt warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with the weather. 'Yeah. I could get used to this.'
...
[Third Person POV]
Several Blocks Away...
The air shimmered and distorted, reality itself seeming to tear like fabric as a vivid green portal spiraled into existence in a shadowed alley. The phenomenon would have attracted immediate attention in broad daylight, but the alley's position and the late afternoon shadows provided just enough concealment.
A figure stepped through the portal, moving with the careful deliberation of someone whose every action carried significant weight. The man appeared to be in his early fifties, though there was something off about him—something that suggested his true age might be far different from his appearance. He carried an ornate walking stick, more ceremonial than functional, and on each wrist gleamed massive clock faces, their mechanisms visibly moving with impossible complexity.
His eyes—sharp, calculating, filled with the dangerous knowledge that came from seeing time itself as a plaything—scanned the area with predatory focus. The clocks on his wrists pulsed with faint light as he consulted them, then turned his gaze toward the ice cream shop down the street.
Through the large window, he could clearly see four teenagers enjoying their ice cream: a spiky-haired blonde boy laughing at something, a pink-skinned girl gesticulating wildly, a red-haired boy grinning widely, and a dark-haired girl with an elegant bearing trying to hide her own smile.
The man's face twisted into something between a smile and a snarl.
"Finally," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of years—or perhaps centuries—of obsession. "I'm back. Back to before he became what he is. Before he ruined everything."
His fingers tightened around his walking stick until his knuckles turned white.
"His wife is even here. His friends. All of them, young and vulnerable and unaware of what they'll become." A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Perfect. I can end them all before they become the nightmare that destroyed my future. Before Kaminari Denki becomes the monster who—"
The man raised his hand, the clocks on his wrists beginning to glow with an ominous light as he prepared to activate his Quirk. Time itself seemed to slow around him, the air growing heavy with potential energy.
"Time Lord's Judgment—"
CRACK!
Purple lightning, distinctly different from any electrical discharge that should exist in nature, struck down from a clear sky with impossible precision. The bolt hit Time Lord square in the chest, and his entire body went rigid as electricity coursed through him. His scream died in his throat, muscles locking up as the voltage overwhelmed his nervous system.
Before he could collapse, additional tendrils of purple lightning wrapped around him like living restraints, forming an intricate collar of crackling energy around his neck and binding his limbs. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, could barely breathe.
"Phew! Almost lost you there, Time Lord."
The voice was young, feminine, and carried a note of satisfaction mixed with irritation. "It's way past time you got back to your prison home. Did you really think you could escape our timeline and not get tracked?"
Time Lord's eyes widened in recognition and pure, primal fear as he saw who had stopped him.
A young woman—perhaps twenty years old—stood at the alley entrance. She was strikingly beautiful, with long black hair that seemed to shimmer with traces of purple energy. Her hero costume was sleek and modern, predominantly black with a brilliant yellow lightning bolt emblazoned across the chest. But it was her eyes—golden, sharp, crackling with barely restrained power—that made Time Lord's blood run cold.
The woman's gaze drifted from her captive to the ice cream shop, and her expression completely transformed. The dangerous hero melted away, replaced by something softer, almost childlike in its wonder and affection.
"Dad..." she whispered, her eyes locked on the blonde teenager laughing with his friends. "Mom..."
Time Lord's eyes bulged. 'No. No, this can't be—'
His attempt at thought was interrupted by an explosion of pain as the woman's electrically-enhanced kick connected with his groin with devastating precision. His eyes rolled back, his mouth opened in a silent scream that his paralyzed vocal cords couldn't produce.
"How DARE you!" the woman snarled, her voice crackling with fury and electrical discharge. "How dare you try to harm my father! My mother! You pathetic, time-stealing mongrel! Learn your place!"
She didn't stop with one kick. Purple lightning flowed from her hands as she delivered a systematic beating, each strike precisely calculated to cause maximum pain without killing him outright. Electricity danced across Time Lord's body, shorting out his nervous system over and over, each surge bringing fresh agony.
"I should fry your brain right now," she hissed, raising her hand as purple lightning began to concentrate at her fingertips, growing brighter and more intense. "Turn you into a vegetable. End your miserable existence once and for—"
"Asuna."
The sharp, disapproving voice came from a holographic projection that suddenly materialized from the watch on the woman's wrist. The hologram displayed what appeared to be an advanced AI interface—streamlined, efficient, with a distinctly feminine design aesthetic.
"It would be best if you stopped before you actually kill him," the AI said, its tone carrying the exasperated patience of someone who'd had this exact conversation many times before. "Need I remind you that murdering prisoners from the future creates significant temporal paradoxes?"
Asuna's hand didn't lower, the purple lightning still crackling dangerously. "But Gideon, he was about to harm Dad and Mom! I should make sure he never—"
"I'm well aware of his intentions," the AI—Gideon—interrupted, and if a hologram could massage its temples in frustration, this one would be. "However, killing him would create a temporal divergence that could endanger your very existence. Not to mention your father would be extremely disappointed in you for taking a life unnecessarily."
That made Asuna hesitate. The lightning dimmed slightly.
"Besides," Gideon continued, "your temper is something you inherited directly from your father, and he spoils you far too much by encouraging it. I've lost count of how many times I've had to prevent you from 'permanently solving' problems."
Asuna's fierce expression cracked slightly, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "Dad says my passion is one of my best qualities."
"Your father thinks everything you do is perfect because you're his precious daughter," Gideon replied dryly. "This does not mean you should electrocute everyone who annoys you."
Asuna glanced back at the ice cream shop, her expression softening again as she watched the blonde teenager—her father, somehow, impossibly—laughing without a care in the world. The dark-haired girl beside him said something that made him grin even wider.
"They look so happy," Asuna murmured. "So young. So... unaware of everything that's coming."
"Which is exactly how it should be," Gideon said gently. "Their timeline must proceed naturally. You know the rules, Asuna. We observe and protect from external interference, but we do not alter their path."
"I know, I know," Asuna sighed, though she couldn't help pulling out a small device from her pocket—some kind of advanced camera. "But it won't hurt to take a few pictures, right? My siblings would be insanely jealous if they knew I'd seen Mom and Dad when they were kids."
She snapped several photos in quick succession, capturing different angles of the scene: Denki throwing his head back in laughter, Momo trying to hide her smile behind her hand, the four friends enjoying a simple moment of peace.
"Your father at sixteen was indeed less intimidating than his current iteration," Gideon admitted. "Though the core personality is clearly already present."
"He's always been amazing," Asuna said with absolute conviction. She took one last, long look at the scene before forcefully dragging her attention back to the still-paralyzed Time Lord. "Alright, Gideon. Let's get this trash back where he belongs."
Purple lightning formed into a whip-like construct in her hand, wrapping around Time Lord's immobilized form. With practiced ease, she began opening another portal—this one more stable and controlled than Time Lord's desperate escape route, its edges perfectly defined and glowing with that same distinctive purple energy.
"Temporal Corridor established," Gideon announced. "Destination: Maximum Security Temporal Prison, Sector 7, Cell 394."
"Good," Asuna said with satisfaction. She turned back one last time, her golden eyes—so like her father's—filled with affection and sadness and determination all at once.
"It was nice seeing you in your youth, Daddy," she whispered, knowing he couldn't possibly hear her across the distance and time. "And you too, Mommy."
Then, with a burst of purple lightning, she dragged Time Lord through the portal. Reality sealed behind them with a sound like distant thunder, leaving no trace they'd ever been there.
...
Back at the ice cream shop, Denki's head suddenly snapped toward the alley where the temporal disturbance had occurred. His expression shifted from relaxed enjoyment to sharp alertness in an instant, his golden eyes narrowing as he focused on something the others couldn't perceive.
"Kaminari-Kun?" Momo asked, noticing his sudden change in demeanor. "Is something wrong?"
For a moment, he didn't respond, his head tilted slightly as if listening to something just beyond the range of normal hearing.
"Denki?" Mina leaned forward, concern replacing her usual playfulness. "You okay, dude?"
He blinked, the intensity fading from his expression as he refocused on his friends. "Yeah, sorry. Just thought I heard someone call my name." He glanced toward the alley one more time, frowning slightly. "Probably nothing."
'But why do I feel like I just missed something really important?' he thought, unable to shake the strange sensation that had washed over him.
"Earth to Denki!" Eijiro waved a hand in front of his face. "You're spacing out, man."
"Right, sorry," Denki shook his head, forcing a grin. "What were we talking about?"
But even as he rejoined the conversation, even as he laughed at Mina's jokes and felt warmth spread through his chest at Momo's smile, a tiny part of his mind kept circling back to that moment.
He took another bite of his butterscotch ice cream and determinedly focused on the present moment—on his friends, on this peaceful afternoon and the simple joy of being a teenager enjoying ice cream on a spring day.