The Beta Training Ground was that same mock city where Arashi had taken his entrance exam. The same lifeless streets, the same fake new-buildings, the same oppressive sense of artificiality and an impending storm. But this time, everything was different. Back then, he was alone, cornered by his own fear. Now, he stood among his classmates, clad in his new, alien costume, feeling… a different kind of vulnerability.
At the entrance to the "city," All Might awaited them. He shone in all his glory, his Silver Age costume gleaming metallically under the artificial sun of the training ground.
"YOUR COSTUMES LOOK SPECTACULAR, YOUNG HEROES!" His voice, thunderous and inspiring, made hearts race. "EACH ONE IS MORE THAN JUST CLOTHING—IT'S YOUR BANNER, YOUR SYMBOL, YOUR STATEMENT TO THE WORLD ABOUT WHO YOU ARE AND WHAT POWER YOU CARRY!"
His gaze swept over the vibrant, unconventional outfits. Midoriya's flashy green suit, Bakugo's massive gauntlets, Ashido's sleek, form-fitting leotard. His eyes lingered on Arashi for a moment, on his dark, matte, almost invisible gear, a flicker of curiosity in them, but he quickly moved on.
"BUT HEROISM ISN'T JUST ABOUT FLASHY DISPLAYS IN OPEN SPACES!" All Might continued. "MOST CONFRONTATIONS WITH EVIL HAPPEN INDOORS! HOSTAGES ARE TAKEN, AND VILLAINS TARGET VARIOUS DEVICES!"
He explained the exercise: teams of "heroes" and "villains." The "villains" had to protect a hypothetical bomb hidden in one of the buildings. The "heroes" had to disarm it or capture the "villains" within the allotted time.
The class buzzed with excitement. This wasn't a fight against robots. This was their first real, albeit simulated, hero exercise.
"YOU'LL BE DIVIDED INTO TEAMS OF TWO!" All Might announced, and names began shuffling randomly on the large screen behind him.
Arashi watched as pairs lit up. Bakugo and Iida. Midoriya and Uraraka. Todoroki and Shoji. Ashido and Jiro. His heart froze. He saw the pool of unassigned names dwindle. Three left… two…
Finally, a single name flashed on the screen in proud solitude.
TANAKA ARASHI
Silence. Everyone turned to look at him. He stood, feeling his face flush beneath his matte collar. Awkwardness, shame, and a bitter sense of inevitability mixed into a single cocktail.
"LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE WILL HAVE TO FIGHT TWICE!" All Might boomed cheerfully, either not noticing Arashi's discomfort or pretending not to. "NO MATTER, IT'S EXCELLENT ENDURANCE TRAINING FOR A FUTURE HERO! WE'LL RUN THE FIRST BATTLE WITH THIS SETUP!"
Arashi quietly stepped aside, trying to blend into the shadows. His costume was perfect for it. He heard hushed whispers, felt eyes on him—not hostile, but curious, appraising. "The weirdest guy in class left without a partner." Perfect.
All Might announced the first teams. "Villains": Iida Tenya and Bakugo Katsuki. "Heroes": Midoriya Izuku and Uraraka Ochaco. They were to face off in one of the high-rise buildings.
Arashi, like everyone else, watched the battle on the large screen, which broadcasted the events inside via hidden cameras. He saw Iida, incredibly fast and methodical, turn corridors into deadly traps with his speed. He saw Bakugo, ferocious and untamed, tearing through floors like a hurricane, hunting Midoriya.
Then he saw the most interesting part. Midoriya. That same timid, stuttering boy who seemed on the verge of breaking under his own insecurity. But when it came to action, he transformed. His movements, though clumsy, were filled with a strange, desperate resolve. He didn't just run. He analyzed, planned, and took incredible risks.
Arashi froze, watching as Midoriya, at the cost of immense pain and another broken finger, unleashed a devastating wave of power that nearly demolished the entire building. He saw Uraraka push her Quirk to its limits to immobilize Bakugo and secure the "bomb."
It was… chaotic. Raw. Painful. But incredibly effective. They won. Not through strength or sophistication, but through pure, raw heroism and a willingness to sacrifice.
When the teams returned—heroes triumphant though battered, villains furious and bewildered—All Might began his debrief. He praised tactics, critiqued mistakes, and pointed out flaws.
Arashi listened, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He thought about the pain Midoriya endured using his Quirk, yet his face glowed with the realization of victory. His gaze shifted to Bakugo, whose rage was directed not only at his defeat but at underestimating his opponent.
They fought. Truly. They poured everything into it. And he, Arashi, had to do the same. Alone. Against whom? Todoroki with his icy power? Bakugo in his blind fury? The thought sent a chill through him.
"Alone," a cold voice whispered in his head. "They left you alone. Because you're different. Because you're dangerous. But that's good. We don't need obstacles. We'll show them what true power means. We'll freeze their blood. We'll turn their pride to dust."
Arashi clenched his gloved fists, feeling the cold plates dig into his palms.
"Shut up," he shot back mentally. "This isn't about power. It's about control. I will control."
All Might finished the debrief, praising both teams for their spirit.
"NOW…" He glanced at the list. His eyes lingered on Arashi for a moment. "…THE NEXT FIGHT WILL BE DETERMINED. BUT FOR NOW, REST AND ANALYZE THE PREVIOUS BATTLE! TANAKA, STAY."
Classmates dispersed, discussing what they'd just witnessed. Some cast sympathetic or curious glances at Arashi. He stood alone before the towering figure of the Symbol of Peace, feeling impossibly small and vulnerable.
"TANAKA-BOY," All Might's voice softened but retained its power. "I'VE SEEN YOUR FILE. AND YOUR… UNIQUE SITUATION. I CAN'T LET YOU FIGHT ALONE AGAINST A PAIR. THAT WOULD BE UNFAIR AND IRRATIONAL."
Arashi nodded silently, a mix of relief and disappointment tightening inside him.
"CONSIDERING YOUR QUIRK AND ITS PECULIARITIES," All Might continued, "I'VE DECIDED TO ALTER THE CONDITIONS FOR YOU. I WAS GOING TO ASSIGN YOU A PARTNER, BUT AFTER SOME THOUGHT, I REALIZED IT'S TOO SOON TO TRAIN YOU IN TEAMWORK. YOUR FIGHT WILL BE SPECIAL. YOU'LL FACE ME."
Arashi's head snapped up, disbelief flooding him. His gaze met the radiant blue eyes of the Symbol of Peace.
"NOT FOR REAL, OF COURSE!" All Might laughed, seeing his shock. "THIS WILL BE AN EXERCISE IN CONTROL AND SURVIVAL! I'LL BE THE 'VILLAIN' GUARDING THE OBJECT. YOUR TASK IS TO GET PAST ME AND TOUCH THE OBJECT WITHIN FIVE MINUTES. USE YOUR POWERS TO GET THROUGH. READY TO TAKE THE CHALLENGE?"
It was unexpected. Not a fight, but a test. A test of the very skills he was trying to hone—control, precision, stealth. Against the strongest hero on the planet.
Fear was overwhelming. But deep inside, a tiny, stubborn spark ignited. A challenge. He'd been personally challenged.
He straightened to his full height, meeting All Might's glowing eyes.
"Yes, sir," he said, and to his own surprise, his voice didn't waver. "I'm ready."
All Might grinned broadly.
"EXCELLENT! THAT'S THE RESPONSE I EXPECTED! NOW GO REST. YOUR TURN IS LAST TODAY. LET'S SHOW THEM WHAT YOU'RE CAPABLE OF, YOUNG HERO!"
Arashi nodded and turned, walking toward his classmates, who were already buzzing about his upcoming "battle" with All Might. An incredible challenge awaited him. And he had to be ready. Not as a destroyer. But as a shadow. A ghost. One who would slip past the Symbol of Peace himself.
***
One by one, teams took turns on the training ground. Ashido and Jiro versus Mina and Sero—acid traps against sonic attacks and unbreakable barriers. Todoroki and Shoji versus Koda and Hagakure—instant freezes of entire corridors against stealthy scouting attempts. Each battle was vibrant, noisy, filled with unexpected tactics and displays of growing skill. Arashi watched, analyzed, feeling the gap between their flashy, spectacular abilities and his own dark power grow ever more apparent.
Finally, All Might raised his hand, signaling the end of the last sparring match.
"GREAT WORK! EVERYONE SHONE BRILLIANTLY!" His voice was, as always, brimming with enthusiasm, but then it shifted to a more serious tone. "HOWEVER, PLANS SOMETIMES CHANGE FOR A GREATER PURPOSE—THE INDIVIDUAL GROWTH OF EACH FUTURE HERO!"
He turned to the class, his gaze settling on Arashi, who stood apart.
"SO, I'VE MADE A CHANGE TO TODAY'S LESSON! THE FINAL BATTLE TODAY WON'T BE A TEAM FIGHT! TANAKA ARASHI WILL FACE ME ONE-ON-ONE!"
The air on the training ground froze. For a second, complete, deafening silence reigned, broken only by the hum of the ventilation. Then chaos erupted.
"WHAT?!" The exclamation came from nearly the entire class at once.
"With him? One-on-one? Against ALL MIGHT?" someone whispered in awe.
"But that's unfair!" Uraraka cried, looking at Arashi with genuine sympathy.
But the loudest outburst came from Bakugo. His face contorted with pure, unbridled rage. He stepped forward, fists clenched so tightly that tiny explosive sparks danced across his gauntlets.
"WHAT KIND OF NONSENSE IS THIS?!" he roared, ignoring the fact that he was shouting at the Symbol of Peace. "THIS NOBODY?! THIS NOBODY GETS THE HONOR OF FIGHTING YOU INSTEAD OF ME?! I WAS FIRST IN THE EXAM! I'M THE STRONGEST HERE! IT SHOULD BE ME!"
His shout echoed across the training ground, filled with hurt, anger, and raw envy. He couldn't bear that such an honor—to face his idol—had been given to someone he considered insignificant.
All Might looked at him calmly.
"THIS ISN'T A REWARD, BAKUGO-BOY. THIS IS A LESSON. FOR EVERYONE," he said, his gaze sweeping the class, silencing them with his authority. "STRENGTH TAKES MANY FORMS. NOW YOU'LL SEE ONE OF THEM. TANAKA, TAKE YOUR POSITION."
Pale but with a resolute gaze, Arashi nodded and stepped onto the designated area in front of one of the buildings. His dark costume looked especially grim against the bright hero outfits. His heart pounded in his throat, but inside, there was icy clarity. He knew what to do. This was his chance. Not to win—that was impossible—but to show control. To learn to manage them under maximum stress.
"BEGIN!" All Might's voice thundered. "YOUR TASK IS TO REACH THE BOMB. READY?"
"Yes," Arashi replied, closing his eyes to block out the surprised, mocking, or sympathetic stares of his classmates. He drowned out Bakugo's furious muttering in the background. He turned inward. Not to the wall. Not to the barrier. He reached for a specific entity. The most familiar, the most "obedient" of them. He didn't command; he asked. He didn't demand destruction but expressed a need for protection, for obstruction.
Witch-King. I need only you. Help me. Be my wall. My barrier.
Pain hit instantly, sharp and familiar, splitting his skull. But this time, it was… focused. Not a chaotic explosion, but a sharp, precise strike. He felt the air around him grow heavy, thick, as if turning to water.
And then it happened.
The space before Arashi shuddered. The air rippled, like heatwaves over scorching asphalt, but instead of heat, it radiated an icy, deathly chill. The temperature on the training ground plummeted by dozens of degrees in an instant. Frost formed on Arashi's matte costume and on All Might's armor, who stood dozens of meters away by the bomb.
From nothingness, from pure void, a dark, billowing figure began to form. Taller than human, incorporeal, made of coalescing darkness and bitter cold. Pale, glowing points in its hood held no expression, only an eternal, indifferent hunger. In its hand materialized a long blade, trailing frosty mist.
This was the Witch-King. Not an illusion. Not a hologram. But an ancient, archetypal entity, the embodiment of fear and suppression.
Absolute, tomb-like silence fell over the training ground. Everyone froze, paralyzed not just by the cold but by a sudden, primal terror emanating from the shadowy figure. Smirks vanished. Izuku paled and stumbled back. Bakugo stood with his mouth agape, his rage instantly replaced by shock and instinctive readiness to fight. Even Todoroki, usually impassive, widened his eyes, seeing ice colder and older than his own.
They didn't see a "Quirk." They saw something else. Something ancient, dark, and infinitely dangerous. For the first time, they saw the true essence of Arashi Tanaka's power.
The Witch-King hovered above the ground, its eyeless gaze fixed on All Might. It didn't attack. It simply was. Its presence drained sound, light, and warmth from the surroundings, creating a zone of absolute, chilling silence.
Arashi knelt, leaning on one hand, his body trembling faintly, blood trickling from his nose. But his eyes, full of pain and immense effort, were locked on the entity. He didn't scream. He didn't collapse. He controlled. He held it in this world, allowing it to do nothing but exist and act as a barrier.
All Might didn't move. His smile vanished, replaced by a focused, serious expression. He didn't see a monster. He saw a boy who, with incredible willpower, kept a force capable of consuming him and everyone around him on a leash.
"So that's what it is…" he murmured, so quietly only he could hear. "The true Quirk…"
The icy silence following the Witch-King's appearance lasted perhaps only a couple of seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Twenty pairs of eyes were glued to the spectral figure, drinking the warmth and light from the air itself. Even Bakugo was speechless, his explosive rage momentarily subdued by primordial horror.
All Might moved first. Not with an attack. With a single step forward.
"INTERESTING!" His voice, though muted by the unnatural silence, broke through the frosty oppression like a ray of sunlight through clouds. "AS THEY SAY, THE BEST DEFENSE IS A GOOD OFFENSE, YOUNG HERO! AND VILLAINS WON'T JUST STAND AND WAIT FOR YOU!"
His muscles tensed, and he vanished. Not literally. His speed was so great that to the untrained eye, he simply evaporated, leaving only a sonic boom that tore through the icy silence like paper. He didn't charge straight at the spectral guardian. He descended from above, like a falling star.
"TEXAS SMASH!!!"
His fist, concentrating power capable of altering the weather, struck not the shadow itself but the space before it. The air compressed, then exploded outward in a devastating shockwave. It wasn't an attack on a physical body but a strike against the very materialization of the entity.
The Witch-King met the blow, raising its icy blade. For a nanosecond, it seemed it might hold—ancient magic against modern might. But the forces were too unequal. With a deafening crack, like breaking glaciers, the blade—and the Nazgûl itself—shattered into a myriad of sparkling fragments that evaporated before hitting the ground.
Air rushed back into the void with a whoosh. The frost on All Might's armor and the students' faces melted instantly. The pressure lifted.
Arashi, still on one knee, gasped as if struck in the chest. He staggered, feeling as though a piece of his flesh had been torn out. The pain was deafening. He nearly collapsed but held himself up, palms pressed against the cold asphalt. His breathing became ragged, blood trickling from his nose and ears.
"ONE!" All Might boomed, landing softly. His face was serious, without a hint of mockery. "BUT THAT WASN'T ENOUGH, TANAKA! SHOW ME MORE! SHOW ME WHAT YOU CAN DO WHEN YOUR QUIRK IS SHATTERED!"
Arashi swallowed the bitter taste of blood. The voices in his head, briefly silenced by shock, roared again, full of fury and resentment.
"He dared! He dared destroy us! Make him pay! Unleash us! ALL OF US!"
Struggling to his feet, he focused again. Pain became fuel. He summoned the Witch-King once more. The shadow materialized again, but its form was less distinct, its cold less all-consuming. All Might attacked again. This time, he used Carolina Smash, creating a tornado that swept up the spectral figure, tearing it into wisps of scattered darkness.
"TWO!" All Might declared.
Arashi groaned, spitting blood. He felt his strength draining at a catastrophic rate. He summoned the Witch-King again and again. Three times. Four. Each time, All Might found a new way to dispel it—with a crushing blow, a hurricane wind, or the sheer, overwhelming force of his presence, against which even ancient darkness paled.
This wasn't a fight. It was a slaughter. A demonstration of absolute superiority. The Symbol of Peace hadn't even broken a sweat. He was simply doing his job—showing the futility of trying to stop him with brute force.
Arashi collapsed to his knees, his body wracked with uncontrollable tremors. He was empty. Drained dry. His will cracked, and with it, the wall he'd built over years began to fracture. Despair flooded him, cold and sticky. He'd lost. He'd proven nothing. He'd only shown everyone how weak he was, how pathetic his attempts to control something meant to defy control.
And in that moment of utter collapse, from the depths of his being, beyond the crumbling wall, came not a furious whisper but a quiet, cold, rational voice. The voice of the Witch-King.
"Alone… we are weak. Give us more. Open the gate. We… will help. We will give power… for your purpose."
It wasn't a plea for freedom. It was an offer. A deal.
Without thinking, driven only by instinct and an overwhelming desire not to fall face-first into the dirt, Arashi raised his head. His eyes, filled with tears of pain and humiliation, met All Might's.
And he stopped holding the door.
He flung it open.
The air on the training ground didn't just grow cold. It died. Sound ceased entirely. Light dimmed, as if a colossal shadow had enveloped the space. Several students cried out from the sudden chill piercing their costumes.
And then they appeared.
Not one. Four.
The Witch-King emerged again, but now its form was denser, more material, its eyeless gaze burning with vengeful fury. Beside it coalesced another figure—shorter but stockier, wielding a massive hammer of black ice that radiated an ominous green glow. The third and fourth held long blades in their hands. A single glance at them tightened throats with fear.
All Might stopped smiling. His face became stone, focused. For the first time in the fight, he assumed a true battle stance.
"FINALLY!" he thundered, but his voice no longer carried its usual lightness. Now it was a warning. "NOW WE SEE THE TRUE SCALE!"
The Nazgûl didn't attack individually. They surged forward as a unified front, displaying terrifying synchronicity.
The Witch-King hovered ahead, its blade tracing complex arcs, freezing the space before All Might to hinder his movements. The hammer-wielder, with a deafening roar felt in the bones, swung its club at the hero. All Might parried with his elbow, the clash of power and ancient magic sending a shockwave across the training ground, staggering the students.
The third Nazgûl moved invisibly, flickering in and out, its blade seeking to leave deep scratches on All Might's costume. The fourth flanked, parrying All Might's most dangerous attacks.
All Might fought. He moved with unimaginable speed, his fists flashing like lightning, each strike forcing one Nazgûl or another to retreat or dissolve momentarily, only to reform. He was stronger. Immeasurably stronger than any one of them, or even all together. But for the first time in years, he wasn't fully dominating. He was forced to defend. He retreated. Slowly, meter by meter, under the onslaught of four ancient beings, they pushed him back from the building where the bomb stood. Cold slowed his movements. The hammer battered his arms. Blades sought weaknesses in his armor. Their presence tried to poison his mind. This wasn't a battle for destruction. It was a battle of attrition, of suppression.
And while the titans clashed, while all eyes were fixed on the epic clash of Light and Darkness, a barely noticeable figure crawled through the shadows.
Arashi. He wasn't on his knees. He barely breathed. His own body had become a battlefield, a conduit for an alien, uncontrollable force. He didn't control the Nazgûl. He was their portal, their conduit. And while they fought, he, driven by the last shred of his own will, crawled from the shadow they cast.
He used them as cover. Used the incredible noise and energy surges to fade into the background. He slithered like a worm across the icy asphalt, skirting the battle, staying in the blind spot.
All Might, fully absorbed in combating four formidable foes, lost sight of him for a second.
That second was enough.
With superhuman effort, Arashi rose to his feet by the building's wall, right by the "bomb"—the target he needed to touch. His costume was encrusted with frost. His face was deathly pale, corpse-like. But worst of all were his eyes. They were no longer gray. They burned with a toxic green fire, full of suffering, hatred, and endless, all-consuming longing. These weren't his eyes. They were the eyes of those he'd unleashed.
He reached out. His fingers, nearly blackened from the cold, trembled.
And he touched the bomb.
The timer's signal blared deafeningly in the sudden silence. The battle stopped instantly. All four Nazgûl froze, then began to dissolve like a mirage, taking the icy cold and unbearable pressure with them.
All Might stood, breathing heavily. His costume bore scratches and dents, his cape frozen in places. He wasn't injured. But he was serious. As serious as if he'd just emerged from a true life-or-death battle.
He turned and looked at Arashi.
Arashi still stood by the wall, his hand pressed to the bomb. He didn't move. His eyes, still filled with that green fire, stared into the void. As if he himself didn't comprehend what he'd just done.
The training ground was in ruins. His classmates stood in stunned silence. Arashi Tanaka had just achieved the impossible. He touched the target.
But looking at him, at his transformed, inhuman face, no one could rejoice for him. They saw only the cost of his victory. And it was horrifying.
In the silence that followed the timer's signal, the training ground seemed frozen not just by cold but by collective shock. No one moved. No one made a sound. All eyes were fixed on Arashi—the small, dark figure by the building's wall, his hand still trembling on the target. His frost-covered costume cracked with every slight movement, like old skin. But worst of all were his eyes. That venomous green fire in them didn't fade; it pulsed, like a living thing trying to break free. These weren't the eyes of a teenager. These were the eyes of ancient evil, having tasted battle and craving more.
All Might straightened to his full, towering height. His breathing was steady, but his eyes held something new—not surprise, not anger, but deep, professional respect mixed with concern. He slowly turned to the class, his voice, usually thunderous, now muted, like an echo in a vast cave.
"THIS… IS THE END OF THE EXERCISE," he said, lacking his usual enthusiasm. "TANAKA-KUN REACHED THE GOAL. HE… WON."
The word "won" hung in the air like a verdict. The class erupted in reactions. Not applause, not cheers—a mix of horror, disbelief, and revulsion.
"What… what was that?" Uraraka whispered, her face pale, hands trembling. She instinctively leaned toward Midoriya for support. "That… that wasn't a Quirk. Those were… monsters!"
Midoriya, barely standing after his own battle, stared at Arashi with wide eyes. His analytical mind raced. Four entities… Materialized shadows… Not just illusions. They're real… But the cost… Oh God, the cost… He couldn't tear his gaze from Arashi, seeing not a classmate but a victim of his own power.
Bakugo, still seething with rage, stepped forward, his fists sparking. But something in him broke. He didn't shout. He just stared at Arashi, his face twisted with a mix of anger and… fear? No, Bakugo didn't fear. He hated. Hated that this "nobody" had just done what he, Katsuki Bakugo, had dreamed of his whole life—challenged the Symbol of Peace and didn't break.
"That's… cheating," he growled finally, his voice hoarse. "That's not heroism. That's… filth. You summoned demons, damn it! You're not a hero, you're a freak!"
His words echoed across the training ground, and several classmates nodded, unable to hide their agreement. Todoroki stood silently, his heterochromatic eyes narrowed. He knew cold better than most. But this cold was different—not physical, but spiritual. He felt his own Quirk resonate with it, like an echo. Interesting… But dangerous. Too dangerous.
"I felt them…" Jiro said, sitting on the ground. "Those things… They didn't just appear. They… whispered. In my head. Like they wanted to… break me."
Momo, usually composed, nodded, her face pale. She'd created a small heater from her body to warm her classmates, but it barely helped. "That cold, that terror. And he… he carries it inside him?"
Arashi didn't hear them. He heard nothing. The world around him blurred into a green haze. The voices—now not one, but four—roared in his head, intertwining in a chaotic chorus.
"He dared… He dared break us. Again and again. He must pay!"
"No, master… Master is weak. He let us out, but now… now we won't leave."
"Yes… We stay. We take him. Make him ours."
Arashi tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't obey. His body felt alien—cold as a corpse, heavy as stone. He felt the Nazgûl clinging to his consciousness, refusing to return behind the wall. The crack he'd created had become a chasm. He himself had become a chasm.
"TANAKA-KUN!" All Might's voice cut through the noise in his head. The Symbol of Peace stepped closer, his figure blocking out everything. "THE EXERCISE IS OVER!"
Arashi raised his head. His lips moved, but the sound wasn't his—low, hissing, like wind in a grave.
"Not… over…" he whispered, and his voice carried the echo of four distinct tones. "We… want… more…"
All Might frowned. He'd seen this before—in the eyes of villains who'd lost control of their Quirks. But this was worse. This wasn't a loss of control. This was a merging.
"ENOUGH!" he roared, his voice, amplified by will, striking Arashi like an invisible wave. "YOU ARE A HERO! NOT THEM! YOU CONTROL THEM, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND!"
All Might's words, filled with unshakable conviction, pierced the chasm. Arashi blinked, and the green fire in his eyes flickered. He felt his own will, weak and battered, cling to those words like a lifeline.
"No… We won't leave!"
But Arashi, summoning his last strength, mentally screamed: "You will! This is MY will! MINE!"
The struggle was internal, invisible to others. His body convulsed, as if in seizures. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his head. The Nazgûl resisted, their whispers turning to roars, but Arashi held on. He remembered Rumi's words: "Your Quirk is some serious crap. But you use it to take down other crap." He recalled the school's philosophy: "We hone talents." He thought of his parents, their fear and love.
With a scream of pain and fury, he locked them away. The wall rose again—not the old, battered one, but a new one, fortified by his will. The green fire faded. His eyes became gray—tired, but human.
He collapsed forward, face-first into the asphalt, and lost consciousness.