Kuro floated upward, boots landing gently against the scorched metal just outside the elevator shaft. The burnt edges glowed faintly from the earlier blast.
Behind him, Todoroki stepped out calmly, brushing dust off his uniform. He gave Kuro a flat look.
"You left the door half-closed on purpose, so the elevator couldn't interfere with your entrance."
Kuro whistled innocently, raising his hands like a guilty child caught mid-cookie theft.
"Me? Sabotage? You wound me, Ice-boy."
He paused, his expression shifting. Eyes narrowed. The faint flicker of purple Ki shimmered across his irises.
"...I can hear Bakugo's heartbeat."
Todoroki stopped. "What?"
"It's close. Rapid. Rhythmic. Elevated stress. Adrenaline kicking in." Kuro tapped his temple. "Superhuman physiology. That includes enhanced hearing. Every sense."
Todoroki arched a brow, nonchalant as always. "So you're a walking sensor tower."
"More like a flying fruit-eating surveillance drone with a winning smile," Kuro replied proudly.
Todoroki walked past a fallen soldier, nudging his side with his foot to ensure he was unconscious. He spotted a radio headset still blinking with activity and picked it up.
"We should head to Bakugo's location," Todoroki muttered. "He might need help."
Kuro scoffed.
"Tch. He'd never lose to anyone... unless it's me."
"That's blind faith," Todoroki replied flatly. "And he's stuck with Kirishima."
Kuro smirked. "Don't diss the Protagonist. He may have the directional instincts of a concussed potato, but he's reliable."
Todoroki stared. "Three bowls of cold soba says Bakugo's struggling."
Kuro's eyes lit up. "Oh? Two bags of mangoes say he isn't. Deal?"
They bumped fists to seal the wager, the moment oddly light despite the tension of their mission.
đ´ď¸Â Surveillance Room â Wolfram & David
Somewhere in the upper floors of I-Island's central tower, the air buzzed with artificial lighting and quiet malice.
Wolfram stood before a large screen, sipping black coffee from a ceramic mug that looked painfully ordinary. Behind him, David Shield and his assistant Samuel sat in guarded silenceâhands bound, eyes alert.
David observed the chaos unfolding on-screen, his brows tense with restrained worry.
"You're not going to escape, you know," Wolfram said suddenly, not even looking back. "So stop trying to count guard rotations or subtle shifts in security feeds."
David didn't answer.
Wolfram smirked. "But I get it. You're just waiting for All Might, huh? Hoping your golden god will swoop in and save the day?"
He turned around, casually leaning on a nearby console.
"Tell me, David⌠how strong is he, if All Might's a ten... then the strongest villain caps at six. Maybe seven. Hell, even outside Japan. Nobody's that bold. Not when he stands at the top. Not when hope is a person."
David finally looked up. "And that's why you'll lose. Because the second All Might is free... It's over."
"Hah!" Wolfram laughed. "See? There it is. That spark. You only talk when I bring up All Might. You're so easy to read."
David squinted slightly. Something in Wolfram's voiceâoff. Forced. More theatrical than he remembered.
"You're starting to sound more like a villain... and less like an actor."
Wolfram's expression stiffened.
He walked toward a large tarp-covered object in the corner of the room. With a single tug, he pulled it back, revealing a reinforced cage.
It didn't move. But the presence inside it was felt.
David stared. "What... is that?"
"Not what," Wolfram replied. "Who."
He took another sip of his coffee. "Only one villain's ever matched All Might. Only one man's exceeded that mythical ten. All For One."
David's eyes widened. "That's impossible. He's supposed to beâ"
"Injured. Beaten. Out of commission. Yes, yes. I know. Everyone thinks that. But let's say..." Wolfram gestured loosely, "...someone started handing me gifts. Weapons. Gear. Upgrades. Enough to level the playing field."
David's heart thudded as he slowly turned toward Samuel.
He mouthed something: "Get ready."
But Samuel didn't respond.
He kept his head down. Avoiding David's eyes.
David's chest tightened. He slowly followed Samuel's gaze downward, away, ashamed.
Wolfram leaned closer, his voice suddenly cold.
"You thought this was your plan, didn't you?"
David didn't answer. Couldn't.
Wolfram walked back toward the monitor, grinning under his breath.
"But it's not your story anymore, Professor Shield. It's mine."
________________________________________________________________________________________
[Auther: No, it's mine.]