He spun, blade already drawn, and thrust backward.
SHNK!
The katana pierced through swirling darkness.
A portal.
Pitch black, edges warping like liquid shadow.
Stain’s grip tightened as the blade sank deeper into the void, eting no resistance.
From within the darkness, a voice erged sounding calm and polite.
"Greetings, Hero Killer."
The portal solidified slightly, revealing a figure composed entirely of black mist. Two glowing yellow eyes stared out.
"May I have a mont of your ti."
Stain didn’t lower his blade.
"Who are you?"
The mist-figure didn’t move.
"My na is Kurogiri." The mist-figure didn’t move despite the blade piercing through its form. "I’ve co on behalf of soone who wishes to speak with you."
"I don’t take etings." Stain pulled his katana free. The blade ca away clean without a drop of blood.
"I thought you might say that." The yellow eyes shifted slightly. "Which is why I ca personally."
Stain’s grip tightened on his weapon. "As you can see, I don’t have ti for this. Get to the point."
"My employer sends you an invitation."
"An invitation to what?"
"To a conversation. Nothing more." Kurogiri’s form rippled. "My employer has been watching your work with great interest. He believes your ideals align with his own goals."
"I work alone."
"So we’ve observed." Kurogiri inclined what passed for a head. "But perhaps you’ve noticed... the world is not kind to those who operate alone. Especially those being actively hunted."
Stain said nothing.
Kurogiri continued.
"Tonight, you encountered an obstacle. A masked individual who interfered with your mission. Ingenium survived because of him."
Stain’s jaw clenched.
"You know about that."
"We know many things, Hero Killer. That man is on our radar as well." Kurogiri’s tone remained pleasant. "And we can offer you resources. Information. Support to continue your crusade with help and without interference. All you need to do is here is out."
"I don’t need help."
"Don’t you?" The yellow eyes glead. "You’re injured. Surrounded by heroes actively searching for you. Your movents tracked."
Stain’s silence stretched.
Kurogiri pressed gently.
"My employer doesn’t wish to control you. He simply believes that your goals—purging false heroes from society—complent his own vision for change."
"And what vision is that?"
"One where the corrupt system that props up these false heroes is dismantled entirely." Kurogiri’s voice dropped slightly.
Stain pointed his katana at Kurogiri’s eyes.
"Who is your employer?"
"Soone who shares your disdain for the current state of hero society." Kurogiri’s form shifted. "Soone who has the ans to ensure your work continues uninterrupted."
"Then he can co to himself."
"He anticipated that response," Kurogiri said smoothly. "Which is why—"
"No."
Kurogiri stilled.
"No?"
"I don’t follow anyone. I don’t work for anyone." Stain’s voice was cold. "And I certainly don’t walk into portals for strangers promising power."
"This is rely—"
"I just failed." Stain’s tone didn’t change. "Ingenium is alive because so masked nobody interfered. And now you appear, knowing things you shouldn’t, offering help I didn’t ask for."
He stepped forward.
"How convenient."
Kurogiri’s form solidified slightly. "I assure you, we had nothing to do with—"
"I don’t care." Stain’s eyes were hard. "Hosu is crawling with heroes right now. And you want to trust you enough to follow you through that portal?"
"If you would simply—"
"Get out."
Silence.
The yellow eyes regarded him for a long mont.
"My employer will be disappointed."
"He’ll get over it."
"You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be, Hero Killer."
"Good." Stain’s grip didn’t waver. "Difficult is how it should be. If your employer wants to talk, and your resources are as good as you say, he’ll know where to find ."
Kurogiri’s form began to shift, the portal edges pulling inward.
"Very well. But know this—the offer stands. When you’re ready to accept reality, we’ll be waiting."
"Don’t hold your breath."
The darkness swirled one final ti.
"We’ll be in touch, Hero Killer. Sooner than you think."
And then he was gone.
The rooftop fell silent.
Stain stood alone, katana still raised, blood dripping from his wounds.
He lowered the blade slowly.
’First that masked man, and now this ... Which ans people have been watching . Probably have been for a while.’
He looked down at his bandaged wounds, at the blood soaking through the gauze.
’But I’m not desperate enough to trust shadows offering power.’
"Cowards," He sheathed his katana and moved toward the fire escape, eyes blazing with renewed fury.
"False heroes. Hidden puppeteers."
Finally vanishing into the shadows.
"I’ll cut you all down."
__
U.A High, Class 1A
The classroom was quieter than usual.
Aizawa stood at the front, arms in his signature capture scarf, most of his body still wrapped in bandages from the USJ incident.
"Your performances at the Sports Festival were... acceptable."
That was probably the closest thing to praise anyone would get from him.
"So of you exceeded expectations. Others confird my initial assessnts." His gaze swept the room. "And one of you refused to accept a gold dal while chained to a podium."
Bakugo, sitting in his usual spot, had the gold dal stuffed in his mouth like a gag. His eyes were murderous, but he didn’t move.
Several students glanced at him nervously.
Aizawa continued as if this were completely normal.
"Over the next two days, you’ll be on break. Use that ti to rest and recover. When you return, we’ll begin discussing internships."
Murmurs rippled through the class.
"Internships?" Kaminari perked up. "Already?"
"The Sports Festival exists to showcase your abilities to Pro Heroes," Aizawa explained. "Based on your performances, agencies will send offers. You’ll choose one and spend a week learning from a working Pro."
"How many offers do we usually get?" Mina asked.
"That depends entirely on your performance." Aizawa pulled up a screen showing a bar graph. "Historically, top perforrs receive dozens. Others receive fewer."
"These numbers will be finalized after the break," Aizawa said. "For now, go ho. Rest. Don’t do anything stupid."
His eyes landed on specific students as he said that last part.
Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugo all felt the weight of that stare.
"Dismissed."
Aizawa left without another word.
The mont the door closed, the tension broke.
"Damn. That was intense."
"I can’t believe we’ll be going on Internships soon."
"I know. Bakugo and Todoroki are so gonna get the most offers. Right Bakugo?"
Bakugo didn’t respond. The dal remained in his mouth.
"Uh... Bakugo?" Kirishima tried again. "You okay, man?"
CLANG!
The gold dal hit the desk with a sharp tallic sound.
Everyone froze.
Bakugo stood slowly, chair scraping back.
His eyes locked onto Midoriya with that terrifying intensity that made half the class flinch.
"Deku."
Midoriya’s blood ran cold.
"Y-Yes?"
"Tell how to get to Class 1-D."
[U.A. High School - Class 1-D - General Studies Departnt]
Yuta sat at his desk, surrounded.
Not taphorically.
Literally surrounded.
His entire class had gathered around his seat the mont horoom started, forming a chaotic crowd of excited, curious, and slightly intimidated students.
"Dude, you made it to the FINALS!"
"You beat Todoroki! TODOROKI!"
"How did you do that thing where you disappeared?!"
"Was that teleportation or super speed?!"
"Why did you forfeit?! You could’ve won!"
Hana, Kimura, and Tanaka, had claid the spots closest to his desk, acting as a buffer between him and the more aggressive questioners.
"Guys, give him so space," Hana said, though she looked just as eager for answers.
"Space? SPACE?!" A student from the back shouted. "He just beca the most famous General Studies student in U.A. history and you want us to give him SPACE?!"
"Technically second-most famous," Kimura corrected, pushing his glasses up. "Rember that guy from three years ago who—"
"Nobody cares about that guy!" soone interrupted.
Tanaka leaned in, grinning. "So. Spill. What was it like fighting Bakugo?"
"Loud," Yuta said flatly.
The class erupted in laughter.
"But seriously," Hana pressed. "Why did you forfeit? You were still standing!"
"I was out of stamina." Yuta shrugged. "Pushing further would’ve been stupid."
"But you made it to the finals!" another student protested. "Don’t you want to be number one?!"
"Not really."
Silence.
Everyone stared at him.
"...What?" soone finally said.
"That’s SO BORING!" Tanaka groaned. "Co on, man! You had the whole country watching! You could’ve been a legend!"
"I’m fine with second place."
"SECOND PLACE ISN’T—"
"EVERYONE SIT DOWN!"
The door slamd open.
Mrs. Nakamura, stood in the doorway with her arms crossed and an expression that could curdle milk.
The class scrambled back to their seats in record ti.
She walked to the front of the room.
"Well. That was quite the spectacle."
A few students shifted uncomfortably.
"Akutami." Her gaze landed on Yuta. "Stand up."
Yuta stood.
Mrs. Nakamura regarded him for a long mont.
Then she smiled.
"Congratulations. You’ve done what no General Studies student has accomplished in over a decade—reached the tournant finals and secured a transfer to the Hero Course."
The class erupted in applause.
Yuta remained standing.
"However," Mrs. Nakamura continued, and the applause died down. "Don’t let this go to your head. You forfeited. You didn’t win. Rember that."
"Yes, ma’am."
"Sit down."
Yuta sat.
Mrs. Nakamura turned to address the entire class.
"The rest of you perford adequately. So better than others. But rember—this was one event. One day. Your futures are not defined by a single tournant."
She paused.
"That said, those of you who made it past the first round should expect so attention. Not Hero Course levels, but enough to open doors if you choose to pursue them."
A few students perked up at that.
"Now." Mrs. Nakamura clapped her hands once. "There will be no school for the next two days. Use that ti to rest, recover, and reflect on your performances."
She glanced at Yuta.
"Especially you, Akutami. I expect you’ll be busy with transfer paperwork when we return."
"Understood."
"Good. Class dismissed."
The mont she left, the room exploded into conversation again.
But before anyone could swarm Yuta’s desk a second ti, the door opened.
And Bakugo Katsuki walked in.
The room went dead silent.
Bakugo’s eyes swept the classroom, landing imdiately on Yuta.
"You."
Yuta waved.
"...Hi?"
"Outside. Now."
__
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