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TRY MY NEW(KIND OF) FANFIC: ONE PIECE: SOL RAGNAROK
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It had been weeks since the Kamino Incident, since the fall of the Symbol of Peace. The streets were quieter, but the shadows longer. People looked at the sky with a little more fear, wondering who, if anyone, would be there to catch them if they fell. The era of All Might was over. The vacuum he left behind was large.
But nature hates a vacuum. And where one star burns out, the universe works to ignite the next.
Taneo Tokuda, a freelance journalist with a camera around his neck, stood at the gates of U.A. High. He adjusted his glasses and looked up at the glass barrier. He wasn't here for the pros. He wasn't here for the scandals. He was here to find the spark.
"The next Symbol," he muttered to himself, flashing his press pass to the security scanner. "He or she is in there somewhere. I know it."
His request was simple: a puff piece. A "Day in the Life" of the famous Class 1-A, the students who had been at the center of every major villain attack this year. The public needed reassurance. They needed to see that the next generation was strong, happy, and ready. Principal Nezu, surprisingly, had agreed.
Aizawa met him at the entrance to the Heights Alliance dorms. The hero looked like he hadn't slept in a decade.
"You have until curfew," Aizawa grumbled, his eyes bloodshot. "Don't interfere with their routine. Don't ask sensitive questions about the investigation. And for the love of god, don't annoy the ones in the back corner."
"The ones in the back?"
"You'll know them when you see them," was all Aizawa said before shuffling away into his sleeping bag in the corner of the common room.
Tokuda stepped into the living area. It was… surprisingly normal. It smelled of toast and coffee.
"Breakfast is ready!" a voice called out.
Tokuda raised his camera. Click.
Tenya Iida, the Class Rep. Public perception: A serious, by-the-book leader from a prestigious hero family. The Ingenium legacy. He was currently chopping the air with his hands, lecturing a blond boy about the proper way to butter toast.
Click.
Denki Kaminari and Hanta Sero. The comic relief, but survivors of the frontline. They were laughing, trying to balance spoons on their noses. The public saw them as relatable, the "everyman" heroes.
Click.
Ochaco Uraraka and Tsuyu Asui. The gravity girl and the frog. Fan favorites for their approachable, cute aesthetics, but insiders knew they had nerves of steel. They were calmly eating rice, discussing homework.
Tokuda moved through the room. He captured Momo Yaoyorozu, the rich girl with the creation quirk, looking elegant even while eating cereal. He snapped a shot of Eijiro Kirishima, the hardening hero, arm-wrestling Rikido Sato for the last pancake.
It was a scene of domestic peace. A reassurance that, despite the villains, despite the war, they were still just kids.
And then, he saw the corner table.
The air around it seemed…in a world of their own.
Four students sat there, separated from the rest by an invisible wall.
Click.
Shoto Todoroki. The son of the new Number One, Endeavor. The boy with the scar. The public saw a prodigy, a powerhouse of ice and fire who had prioritized civilian safety during the License Exam. He was eating a traditional Japanese breakfast with precise, mechanical movements, his eyes distant.
Click.
Katsuki Bakugo. The boy who was kidnapped. The victim of Kamino. The media painted him as a volatile, angry youth with a villainous quirk, but one who had surprisingly strong survival instincts. He was currently scowling at a bowl of spicy curry, radiating an aura of "don't talk to me or I'll explode."
And then, the two who really caught Tokuda's journalistic eye.
Click.
Rumi Usagiyama. The Rabbit Hero: Mirko. The girl who had taken the most damage from the villain Muscular and lived. She was leaning back in her chair, her feet, clad in fluffy slippers, resting on the empty seat next to her. A new, thin white scar cut through her right eyebrow. She was laughing at something Bakugo said. The public loved her energy but feared her brutality. She was a wild card.
Click.
Akaza. Hero Name: Asura.
Tokuda lowered his camera for a second, just staring. This was the one. The winner of the Sports Festival. The boy with the black eyes. The one who had reportedly "eliminated" the villain, Muscular. The internet forums were torn on him. Half called him a monster, a necessary evil in a dark world. The other half called him a hero who did what had to be done.
He sat next to Rumi, calmly drinking black coffee. He wasn't engaging in the banter. He was just… existing. His presence was a black hole of calm. He looked up, his pitch-black eyes locking directly onto Tokuda's lens.
Tokuda shivered. That's not the look of a student, he thought. That's the look of a soldier.
He decided to get closer. He needed a quote. Something to humanize the "monsters" of Class 1-A.
"Good morning! Taneo Tokuda, freelance journalist. Do you mind if I get a few shots for the article? The public is dying to know how the top students of U.A. start their day!"
Bakugo ignored him. Shoto blinked. Akaza took another sip of coffee.
Rumi, however, turned her gaze on him. It wasn't friendly.
"A journalist, huh?" she drawled, her voice sharp. "You vultures usually wait outside the gate."
"Ah, well, special permission!" Tokuda laughed nervously, stepping a bit too close to get a better angle on her scar. "I just wanted to ask about your recovery! The battle in the forest must have been terrifying. How does it feel to be back?"
The camera lens zoomed in, causing Rumi's eye to twitch. She hated being pitied. She hated being the "victim" in the story.
"Terrifying?" she repeated, her voice dropping an octave. "You want to know how it felt?"
She moved. It wasn't a normal movement. It was a blur.
In the blink of an eye, Rumi had pivoted in her chair. Her leg shot up in an arc aimed directly at the camera.
"I'll show you how it felt!"
"WOAH!" Tokuda yelped, freezing in terror, unable to dodge.
THWACK.
A gust of wind ruffled Tokuda's hair. The kick had stopped inches from his camera.
It hadn't stopped on its own.
Akaza's hand was there. He hadn't even looked up from his coffee. His left arm was simply extended, his palm effortlessly catching Rumi's ankle mid-strike. The impact, which should have broken a normal person's arm, didn't even make him spill his drink.
"Not here, carrots," Akaza said, his voice bored. "Aizawa said no harming the press; this one has Nezu's permission."
Rumi huffed, her leg still held in his grip. "He was in my face, Aki! He's annoying!"
"He's doing his job," Akaza replied, gently pushing her leg down. "Besides, the paperwork for harming a journalist will be a nightmare."
"Tch. Fine." She glared at Tokuda. "Back off, lens-face. Before I decide, the paperwork is worth it."
Tokuda stumbled back, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He snapped a photo with trembling hands. The Rabbit's aggression. The Asura's control. The dynamic… it's incredible.
"S-Sorry! I'll… I'll just go over there!"
He retreated to the other table, where Midoriya was muttering about hero analysis.
The rest of the day was a whirlwind of observation. Tokuda followed them to class, then to the gym for training.
He watched Izuku Midoriya. The boy was plain, unassuming. He had messy green hair and freckles. But when he activated his quirk, when green lightning crackled around him, there was an intensity that felt familiar. Click. "He breaks his bones to save people," Tokuda mused. "A bit mad, but… passionate."
He watched Bakugo flying through the air, explosions propelling him with terrifying precision. Click. "A perfectionist masked by rage. He wants to win more than anyone."
He watched Shoto using fire and ice in harmony, a dance of elements.
Click
" Finally accepting his own power."
And he watched the pair in the corner. Rumi was practicing her aerial steps, trying to walk on air, her frustration evident, but her determination unshakeable. Akaza was sparring with her— or rather, dodging her attacks with a fluidity that looked like water flowing around a stone. He rarely attacked, but when he did, it was a precise tap that sent her back. They laughed, they bickered, they fought. They were in a world of their own.
Click. "The survivors. They've seen the darkness, and they're not afraid of it anymore."
As the sun began to set, the students started to head back to the dorms. Tokuda started packing up his gear. He had enough for a dozen articles. But he still needed one thing. The "why."
He spotted Izuku Midoriya sitting on a bench outside the dorms, looking at a photo on his phone. Tokuda walked over.
"Midoriya-kun, right?"
Izuku jumped. "O-Oh! Tokuda-san! I… I didn't see you there!"
"Mind if I sit?" Tokuda asked, sitting down before Izuku could answer. He looked at the phone screen. It was a picture of All Might. "He was amazing, wasn't he?"
"Yes," Izuku whispered. "He is."
"You know," Tokuda said, leaning back and looking at the sky. "I've been taking pictures of heroes for a long time. I've seen the fakes, the glory-hounds, the ones in it for the money. And I've seen the real ones."
He pulled out his camera and scrolled through the photos he'd taken today. He stopped on one. It wasn't Akaza, or Bakugo, or Todoroki. It was a candid shot of Izuku during training. He was battered, sweaty, and exhausted, but he was reaching out a hand to help Iida up. There was a spark in his eyes. A familiar spark.
"When All Might pointed at the camera," Tokuda said softly, "when he said, 'It's your turn... everyone thought he was talking to the villains. Or to the other pros. But I don't think so."
Izuku tensed, looking at the journalist.
"I think he was talking to you."
Izuku's breath hitched. "W-What makes you say that?"
"Call it a hunch," Tokuda smiled. "I can see it. The way you move. The way you worry about everyone else before yourself. Even today, after everything that happened with Akaza and the others... you were still trying to bridge the gap. I'll give you some advice: don't try to change the person, try to understand them."
Izuku looked down at his hands. "I… I don't know if I can fix it. They… they think I'm a fake. That Akaza's way is the only real way. It's hard for me to understand them."
"And what do you think?"
"I think..." Izuku looked up, his eyes burning with a quiet, green fire. "I think saving people isn't just about fighting villains. It's about saving their hearts, too. Akaza... he saved us physically. But he's hurting. They all are. If I give up on them... if I just accept that violence is the only answer... then I'm not a hero. I want to be a hero who saves everyone. Even the ones who say they don't want to be saved."
Tokuda smiled. It was the quote he needed. The reassurance the world was waiting for. It wasn't the cold, efficient power of Asura. It wasn't the explosive victory of Bakugo. It was this. The relentless, irrational, beautiful hope.
'A true idealist, just like All Might.'
"That's the trick part. You say they are hurting, but look at these photos," Tokuda said, as he showed Izuku all the images of Akaza laughing with Rumi, and Rumi fighting with Bakugo while Shoto and Akaza drank tea.
"Do they look like someone who is hurting?"
The question left Izuku stunned. He was right, maybe they are fine with the way they do things, maybe that's what it means to 'understand them and not change them'.
Looking at Izuku's expression, Tokuda smiled and stood up, patting the boy on the shoulder. "Hope my advice helps you see the bigger picture."
He walked away, leaving a stunned Izuku on the bench.
Tokuda reached the gate, looking back at the Heights Alliance one last time. He had his story.
The Fortress, he thought, visualizing the article. Inside, there are heroes who kill to protect. There are explosions of rage. There are walls of ice. And there are heroes of pure heroics. A quality he loved but knew was too idealistic for the world they live in.
"The future is bright," he murmured, snapping the lens cap on. "Complicated... but bright."
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