Arashi Tanaka raced through the collapse zone, his boots slipping on cracked asphalt littered with concrete shards and glass. The air in the USJ was thick with dust, heavy with the scent of smoke and metal. What was meant to be a training ground for Class 1-A—a simulation of disasters where students could hone their skills under the watchful eyes of their teachers—had turned into a real battlefield. Merciless. Brutal. Villains had stormed in through a black portal created by an unknown quirk, scattering the students across the complex's zones: the flood zone with its churning waters, the fire zone with roaring flames, the mountain zone with steep slopes, and the collapse zone—a labyrinth of crumbling buildings where every step could be the last. Arashi was here, in the chaos of tremors and falling debris, where the ground shook, and the walls shuddered from impacts.
His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline dulling the aching pain from recent training. Sweat on his forehead mixed with dust, leaving streaks on his pale face. This isn't a simulation, he thought, leaping over a fissure splitting the asphalt. This is real. Real villains. Real danger. Echoes of Rumi Usagiyama's words rang in his mind from the day she found him among the ruins: "The world needs saving. By any means. Even the darkest ones." And Nezu, with his calm but steely certainty, had added: "U.A. isn't a place for the weak. It's for those ready to embrace their power." Arashi couldn't hide. He couldn't retreat. His goal was clear: reach the center of the USJ, where, by his calculations, the teachers were fighting the main threat.
The ground beneath him trembled, and a massive concrete slab broke free from a half-destroyed building, plummeting toward him. Arashi instinctively cracked open the door in his mind—not fully, just enough to release a faint wave of cold. A shadow coalesced in the air before him—the Witch-king, the first and most powerful of the Nazgûl. His cloaked figure materialized for a split second, and an icy blade, woven from ancient darkness, sliced through the slab with a crack. The fragments, coated in frost, shattered into dust before hitting the ground. "Thank you," Arashi thought, quickly sealing the door. The Nazgûl whispered in his head, their voices low, viscous, and hungry: "Give us more… Open it wider…" But he kept them in check. Losing control, like in his fight with All Might, wasn't an option. Not now, with his teachers' and classmates' lives at stake.
Ahead, among the debris, silhouettes appeared. Two villains—low-level thugs, judging by their tattered costumes and makeshift weapons. One, with skin covered in stone-like growths, hurled boulders manipulated by his quirk. The other, lanky and jittery, triggered localized earthquakes that made the ground beneath Arashi wobble like jelly. They spotted him and grinned maliciously.
"Hey, kid! A hero, huh?" the stone-skinned villain shouted, flinging a boulder the size of a basketball at Arashi.
Arashi dodged, his gray eyes narrowing. He didn't summon the Nazgûl fully—that would be too costly. Instead, he focused, letting a thin stream of his quirk escape. A wave of icy cold and despair surged forward, invisible but palpable. The villains froze in place. Their faces contorted, their eyes dulled. The stone-skinned one dropped his boulder, which thudded at his feet. "Why… why are we doing this?" he mumbled, sinking to his knees. His partner simply sat on the ground, staring into nothingness, his arms limp. Their will was broken, their minds plunged into apathy.
Arashi ran past, not wasting time on a fight. "They're neutralized. That's enough," he thought. His quirk didn't kill—it shattered spirits, forcing enemies to surrender without a single blow. But deep down, he felt the Nazgûl clawing at the wall in his mind, demanding more. "We can do more… We can destroy…" He clenched his teeth and kept running, ignoring them.
After minutes of sprinting, dodging collapses and navigating the traps of the collapse zone, he finally broke through to the central plaza of the USJ. The massive dome with its central fountain was surrounded by the bodies of defeated villains—some unconscious, others curled up in defeat. In the center fought Aizawa, known as Eraser Head. His capture scarf, controlled by his quirk, writhed like a living thing, binding and neutralizing enemies with surgical precision. His eyes glowed red, erasing the quirks of anyone caught in his gaze. Arashi crouched behind a broken wall, watching. Aizawa was alone against a mob—dozens of villains surrounded him, but he dismantled them methodically, like a machine. The scarf wrapped around one's neck, erasing their power; a fist crashed into another's jaw, knocking them out. "He's holding on," Arashi thought, clenching his fists. "But for how long?"
The air suddenly shuddered. From a black portal woven of mist emerged a tall, gaunt figure with pale blue hair, disheveled and sticking out in all directions. His body was adorned with severed hands—real, dead hands attached to his shoulders, neck, and wrists. He scratched his neck nervously, his eyes, full of madness, scanning the plaza. This was Tomura Shigaraki, as Arashi would later learn. Beside him materialized something horrifying: a massive Nomu with an exposed brain, a bird-like head, and a muscular, scarred body. The mere sight of it sent a chill down Arashi's spine—not from his quirk, but from primal, animal terror.
"Eraser Head," Shigaraki rasped, his voice high, almost childlike, but dripping with malice. "The one who erases quirks. Cool. But your eyes… they dry out, don't they? You can't keep them open forever."
Aizawa didn't respond. His eyes flared red, focusing on Shigaraki, erasing his quirk. But the Nomu was already moving. Its fists slammed into the ground, creating a shockwave that split the asphalt. Aizawa dodged, his scarf wrapping around the monster's arm, but the Nomu didn't even notice—its strength was too great, its body seemingly invulnerable.
Arashi spotted movement near the fountain. Midoriya and Tsuyu had broken through from their zone and were trying to take cover. Shigaraki saw them, his lips curling into a manic grin.
"Oh, hero pups. Perfect. Kurogiri, teleport them here. I'll reduce them to atoms."
A black portal opened beneath their feet, but Tsuyu, with her frog-like agility, leaped, pulling Midoriya and Mineta to safety. Shigaraki clicked his tongue in irritation and stepped toward Aizawa, his hand reaching for the teacher's face.
Aizawa fought desperately, erasing the Nomu's quirk, but the monster only slowed, continuing its advance. Shigaraki grabbed Aizawa's elbow, and the fabric of his costume began to disintegrate into dust. Blood seeped from the teacher's arm, but he broke free, gritting his teeth in pain.
Arashi couldn't wait any longer. The urge to protect—to save Aizawa, to save his friends—overpowered his fear. He flung open the door in his mind, holding nothing back. "Help me!" he screamed mentally to the Nazgûl. Cold surged outward, the air froze, and sound dulled as if the world held its breath. Four figures materialized around him: the Witch-king with his blade, the Hammer-wielder with a massive club, and two other Nazgûl. In Arashi's hand appeared his own blade, forged from his will, trembling with strain.
"Attack!" he shouted, charging forward. The Nazgûl rushed the Nomu, their presence freezing the air.
The Nomu turned to the new threat, its grotesque face twisting in a snarl. The Witch-king struck first—his blade sliced into the monster's shoulder, leaving a deep gash, but the wound closed almost instantly. The Nomu's regeneration was terrifying. The Hammer-wielder slammed his club into the creature's back, creating a shockwave that knocked lesser villains aside, but the Nomu merely staggered. It grabbed the club with one hand and hurled the Hammer-wielder into a wall. The shadow disintegrated, and Arashi cried out in pain, as if he'd been struck himself.
The other two Nazgûl attacked from the flanks, their blades slashing the Nomu's skin, leaving scratches that vanished as quickly as they appeared. Seeing the futility of physical attacks, the Nazgûl shifted tactics, unleashing a bone-chilling scream that drove lesser villains to their knees, maddened by fear. But the Nomu, devoid of a mind, was immune. Its movements were mechanical, relentless, like a machine built for destruction.
Arashi ran to Aizawa, helping the teacher crawl to cover. "Sensei, hold on!" Aizawa, wincing in pain, nodded.
Arashi had bought time—the Nazgûl distracted the Nomu, giving Aizawa a chance to retreat. But the fight wasn't over. Shigaraki screamed, furious that his plan was disrupted again: "Nomu! Kill them all!" The monster roared, its fist smashing into the Witch-king, tearing the figure to shreds. Arashi gasped, feeling part of his soul rip apart. Blood poured from his nose, his body shaking. The Nazgûl regrouped, attacking in turns to keep the Nomu at bay. The Hammer-wielder, reformed, struck the Nomu's knee, bending it at an unnatural angle.
But the Nomu was unstoppable. Its regeneration made it nearly invulnerable, and its lack of a mind rendered it immune to mental attacks. It grabbed the Hammer-wielder, crushed him like a toy, and tossed him aside. Arashi collapsed to his knees, pain searing through him like a red-hot knife. One Nazgûl tried to target the Nomu's exposed brain, but the monster caught its wrist and tore it in half. The Nazgûl and Nomu clashed in a dance of violence and brutality. With each blow, the Nazgûl grew less corporeal.
But the fight wasn't as one-sided as it seemed. The Nomu's regeneration slowed, its movements less swift than at the start. The Nazgûl's cursed screams and dark magic were taking their toll, gradually sapping the creature's strength.
The Witch-king held on the longest. His blade flashed, leaving frosty trails on the Nomu's body, but each strike was in vain. Finally, the Nomu seized the Witch-king by the throat, squeezed, and the shadow disintegrated in a cloud of icy dust. Arashi screamed, collapsing, his body wracked with uncontrollable tremors. Blood streamed from his nose, ears, and even his eyes. Green fire flared in his gaze—the wall in his mind was crumbling. The Nazgûl, though destroyed, still whispered: "You're weak… Give us more… We can win…"
Shigaraki laughed, scratching his neck. "You're no hero—you're a monster! Like Nomu! But your shadows are nothing against him!" His hand reached for Tsuyu, who was trying to drag Aizawa to safety. Aizawa, weakened, couldn't focus his gaze, his eyes flickering, losing strength.
Midoriya, having broken through to the center, charged forward. His fist glowed with One For All. "Tanaka! Hold on!" He struck: "SMASH!" The blow hit the Nomu's side as it moved to shield Shigaraki, knocking the monster back a meter. But it recovered instantly, its skin knitting together as if untouched. The Nomu retaliated, its fist slamming into Midoriya, sending him crashing into the fountain. Midoriya collapsed, his finger broken from the impact, his face contorted in pain.
Tsuyu used her tongue to pull Aizawa behind debris, but Shigaraki noticed her. "Where you going, frog?" he hissed, stepping forward.
Arashi tried to stand, but his body wouldn't obey. The Nazgûl were gone, their power drained, and his own will was fraying. "I… can't…" he whispered, the green fire in his eyes burning brighter. He tried to close the door in his mind, but it wouldn't shut—the rift was too wide. "I failed… everyone…"
Shigaraki closed in on Tsuyu, his fingers nearly touching her. Aizawa, summoning his last strength, raised his head, his eyes flashing red, but Shigaraki dodged, his hand darting toward the teacher's face. "Goodbye, Eraser Head."
And then a voice, brimming with unyielding power, tore through the air: "I AM HERE!"
All Might burst into the USJ, his towering figure blocking the light. He surged across the plaza like a hurricane, his fist crashing into the Nomu with a deafening: "UNITED STATES OF SMASH!" The shockwave rolled through the dome, hurling the monster across the plaza. The Nomu slammed into a wall, leaving a truck-sized dent. Its body twitched, but even its regeneration couldn't instantly recover after such a blow, especially after the Nazgûl's attacks had slowly drained its energy.
Shigaraki froze, his eyes widening in shock. "All Might took down Nomu in one hit?!" he hissed, retreating to Kurogiri's portal. "This wasn't the plan! Kurogiri, we're leaving!"
The portal swallowed them both.
Arashi lay on the ground, his breathing ragged, blood streaming down his face. He stared at All Might's invincible figure, feeling a mix of relief and shame. "I couldn't do it… I was weak…" The Nazgûl were silent, their whispers gone, but he knew they weren't truly gone—they were waiting, lurking behind the rift in his mind.
All Might knelt beside him, his face serious but with a warm spark in his eyes. "You did well, Tanaka-kun."
Aizawa, bandaged by Tsuyu, nodded. His voice was hoarse but firm: "Good work, Tanaka."
Midoriya, crawling from the debris, limped over, his hand hanging limp, fingers broken. "You saved us, Tanaka…"
Tsuyu nodded, her large eyes full of gratitude. "You stopped Shigaraki, Arashi-chan. If it wasn't for you, I'd be…"
Arashi looked away, his cheeks burning. He didn't feel like a hero. He felt broken, drained, on the edge. But the words of his friends, his teacher, and All Might were like an anchor, keeping him from falling into the abyss.
The villains retreated, their portal carrying them away, but the battle left its marks. The USJ was in ruins. The students had faced the most dangerous moment of their lives.
Later, in the infirmary, Arashi lay on a cot, hooked up to IVs. His body ached, his head throbbed, but inside, it was quiet. The Nazgûl were dormant, their power spent, but he knew they'd return. They always did. He recalled Shigaraki's words: "You're a monster, like Nomu."
He clenched his fist, staring at the ceiling. "I'm not a monster. I'm a hero. And I'll get stronger."