Third Person POV
BAANG!
The massive doors of the USJ slammed open, reverberating like a cannon blast. All Might strode in, his cape flaring behind him. But this was not the smiling symbol of peace the world knew — his jaw was clenched, his teeth gritted with fury. His presence was thunderous, but his eyes burned with something heavier: shame and rage.
"Everything will be fine," he said, though his voice was edged with iron instead of hope.
He hadn't come by coincidence. While resting, unease gnawed at his heart, a dread he could not shake. Acting on instinct, he rushed to the USJ. On the way, he encountered Iida, who breathlessly gave him the details of the nightmare unfolding inside. And yet, nothing Iida said could prepare him for the sight that met his eyes when he entered.
"Why? Because I am—" The words caught in his throat.
The training grounds were devastated. Craters split the concrete floor, steel beams jutted at broken angles, and scorched debris was scattered everywhere like the remains of a battlefield. Smoke coiled upward, filling the ruined dome with a heavy haze. The aftermath of a war.
And in the center of it all, students stood in a tight circle, shielding something from his view. No cheering, no relieved cries of "All Might is here!" — only silence. Their heads were bowed, their expressions weighed down with grief and guilt.
This was wrong. His arrival was supposed to inspire hope, to bring light to the darkest places. But here… their faces looked like those of soldiers who had survived, but at a terrible cost.
He pushed through their circle, and they parted wordlessly to make room. At the center, Momo Yaoyorozu knelt, hands trembling as she pressed bandages against Aaron's unconscious body.
When All Might saw him, his chest seized. Aaron lay broken — bruised, bloodied, his uniform torn to ribbons, his skin a patchwork of cuts and burns. His breath was shallow, his pulse faint. He looked less like a boy and more like a casualty dragged from the front lines.
All Might's heart trembled. A deep, unbearable shame clawed at him. A student… my student… in this state because I wasn't here.
This wasn't the first time he had failed to arrive in time, but it was the first time the one paying the price was a child under his care.
"His condition is critical. He needs immediate medical attention," Aizawa rasped as he approached, his own body heavily bandaged, his movements stiff with pain.
"Is everyone else all right?" All Might asked, though his gaze never left Aaron's battered frame.
"Other than Aaron, only Thirteen is badly injured. Everyone else is fine. If not for Aaron taking on that monster… many more would have been hurt." Aizawa's voice was heavy with reluctant respect.
All Might exhaled sharply. "The heroes and medical teams should be here any minute. Don't move him until then. His body won't withstand it."
And then, like salvation, the heavy clamor of boots filled the dome. Pro heroes poured in alongside Principal Nezu, followed by the flashing red of medical teams. The students stepped back as professionals swarmed the scene. Medics lifted Aaron, Thirteen, and Aizawa with practiced efficiency, rushing them toward waiting ambulances.
For now, all All Might could do was watch as they carried away the boy who had fought in his place.
...….
Elsewhere — a dimly lit bar
Shigaraki stumbled out of Kurogiri's portal, rage still simmering under his skin. He nearly tripped but caught himself, forcing his posture into something that looked like control. His gaze flicked toward the glowing TV screen.
"We failed," he muttered.
"Hmm… well, I certainly expected this outcome," said a calm, distorted voice from the television.
Another voice, sharper and more eager, cut in. "So, tell me — how did our creation fare against All Might?"
Shigaraki's nails scraped at his neck. "All Might… he wasn't there," he snarled through clenched teeth.
The line went quiet for a moment.
"If All Might wasn't there, then how did you lose, even with Nomu?" the impatient voice demanded.
Kurogiri answered this time, his tone steady. "A student. A student held his ground against Nomu for a full minute. And in the end, with Erasure Head's interference erasing Nomu's quirks, the boy defeated him."
He paused, as though even he struggled to believe the words. "The boy's fighting style —similar to All Might. And his quirk… it seems to be a body-strengthening one. He was strong, but not enough alone. Without Aizawa, he would have fallen."
"HAHAHAHAHA!" The second voice — Dr. Garaki — burst out laughing, mad and shrill. "Utter nonsense! My Nomu, defeated by a mere fifteen-year-old boy? Preposterous!"
But the first voice, All For One, remained still. Silent. His mind was elsewhere. A boy, with All Might's style. A boy with a strengthening quirk. So… you chose this child as your successor, Toshinori?
The thought coiled into certainty.
"Find everything about this boy," AFO commanded. The screen went black.
...
UA — Principal's Office
"…and then he fainted," Aizawa finished his grim report.
Nezu folded his paws, eyes sharp but calm. "All right, you may leave now. Even with Recovery Girl's treatment, you need rest."
When Aizawa was gone, only three remained: Nezu, Tsukauchi of the police, and All Might.
"From our investigation," Tsukauchi began, "the villains clearly knew Class 1-A's schedule. They were waiting for you, All Might."
His gaze hardened. "The schedule was leaked. We must find out how."
All Might stayed silent, his fists tightening.
Nezu spoke evenly. "I will examine UA's database. If it has been tampered with, I'll know."
Tsukauchi adjusted his notes. "And then, the boy. That purple-skinned monster was designed to kill you, All Might. Yet a first-year student bested it. He's far too strong for someone his age, far too experienced for someone with no record."
All Might's mouth opened, but Tsukauchi continued before he could defend Aaron. "I'm not accusing him of anything. But something about him doesn't add up. Even Aizawa's account suggests he's accustomed to fighting villains. We'll need to question him once he wakes."
Nezu's sharp eyes twinkled with mischief. "You didn't secretly pass your quirk to Aaron, did you?"
All Might sighed, heavy. "You know I chose Midoriya, shounen."
"Very well," Nezu said lightly. "Back to business. I looked into Aaron's background. Too clean. He trained in martial arts, yes, but that alone doesn't explain his combat ability. No other fights on record. No history of violence. Not here in Japan, nor in America."
Nezu's tone grew grave. "And one more thing — Recovery Girl's report. She said his mind, not his body, showed the worst exhaustion. His injuries are healed, but his consciousness… remains drained. That, she believes, is why he hasn't woken yet."
The weight of the mystery hung thick in the air.
"For now, we'll wait until he wakes. In the meantime, the villains are our priority."
Nezu's voice lowered. "And about Nomu. Our doctors confirmed his body was manufactured. Artificial. He carried multiple quirks. They called him your perfect counter." His gaze locked with All Might's.
"No matter how I look at it," Tsukauchi added quietly, "this points back to one person. Are you sure he died in your battle five years ago?"
All Might's eyes shadowed, his jaw hardening. "…His body was never recovered. If he's alive… then this is far worse than we feared."
...….
Two days later
Class 1-A's classroom was silent. No chatter, no squabbles, no outbursts. The seats were filled, but each student sat heavy with their own thoughts.
'If only I had been faster.' Iida thought, guilt gnawing.
'I'm weak… pathetically weak.' Midoriya berated himself, and Bakugo, too, simmered with rage at his own uselessness.
'If I had used both quirks… could I have made a difference?' Todoroki wondered, pride clashing with shame.
The door slid open, and Aizawa stepped in, his presence pulling every gaze to him.
"His injuries are healed," he said plainly. "He's just exhausted. He should wake up in a day or two."
The tension broke in a collective sigh of relief.
But Aizawa cut it short. "Don't relax yet. The fight isn't over. The Sports Festival is coming."
The class erupted with chatter, disbelief replacing silence.
"Wait — after everything, will that really be okay?" Jiro asked, concern sharp in her voice.
"The higher-ups insist on it," Aizawa explained. "They want to show the world that UA is not weak. That our security is unshaken."
He paused, his tired eyes scanning them all. "And more importantly — the Sports Festival is your chance. Pro Heroes will be watching. This is where internships are offered. Where futures are decided. So prepare yourselves."
And with that, he left them to their thoughts — a class now bound by guilt, determination, and the weight of what was coming.
....
Current location: USA
Footsteps thundered down a long corridor. A man pushed open a door to a lavish study, bowing to the figure within — an older man, late fifties, seated behind a dark oak desk, his aura one of quiet menace.
"We… we have brought the young lord back, my Lord."
The elder's voice was devoid of warmth. "His condition?"
"He remains in a coma, my Lord. Stable, but unresponsive. He's been moved into the room prepared for him."
The elder's eyes narrowed. "And Hero? Have you learned anything?"
The messenger hesitated, faltering under his master's gaze. "N-no, my Lord. He hasn't been seen for nearly three years. Tracking him has proven… difficult."
"You will hurry." The old man's calm tone sliced like a blade. "Find him. No matter what it takes. He will pay for putting my son in this state."
"Yes, my Lord."