— — START — —
A buzzing sound could be heard above the skies of a particular neighborhood.
Perched on a drone, a bulky teen shouted, "Goggles rule! These winds and bright flashes won't affect my mighty peepers at all!"
A sharp voice whipped toward him. "Huh, Mister Blaster? More like Mister Copycat! Stop spouting that nonsense after all that crap you gave Aizawa for it?!"
Mister Blaster crossed his arms. "Hmph! Like I care about that wimp, Yamada. That gloomy weakling who never stops whining."
Yamada—Present Mic—narrowed his eyes. "Weakling? Aizawa?"
A sly grin spread across his face. "Since you're stuck in 3B, you wouldn't know, Sensoji. Aizawa may start slow, but once he digs deep and finds his guts, he's a tough cookie to handle."
Sensoji—Mister Blaster—clicked his tongue, "Tch, tell him to stop losing his guts then."
"Fair point, I guess. Must be nice to be so simple-minded, huh..."
Suddenly, the Pro Heroes flying ahead shouted, "Hey, newbies! Stop chattering and get ready!"
They struck their poses. "We're here without delay! Acting fast to save the day! We're the Buster Union—the hero team that packs a punch!"
The leader pointed toward a gigantic, toad-like Villain looming in front of them. "Everyone, unleash your full power. Target that villain, dead ahead!"
"Hell yeah! Here we go!" Present Mic yelled as the hero team unleashed their quirks in a blazing storm.
But the Villain merely opened its enormous mouth and swallowed their attacks whole. Slowly, large orbs bulged along its back, trapping every single one of their blasts.
"What the- It ate our attacks and grew new lumps!?"
- - - - -
On the other side of the neighborhood…
"Think it's going to rain, Shota?" a light-blue-haired teen asked, riding a fluffy cloud just a few feet above the pavement.
Shota—Eraserhead—scanned the skies. "I don't think so. The weather app only said it would be partly cloudy today."
"Well, let's hope so. I hate getting wet," the teen replied, grinning brightly as the wind ruffled their hair.
"Hey! It's Loud Cloud!" a small boy shouted excitedly from their side.
Loud Cloud—Shirakumo—smiled warmly. "Ooh! If it isn't the nursery brigade, out on a march!"
"Lemme ride!" "Me too!" "Yeah! Yeah!"
The children scrambled onto the solid cloud Shirakumo controlled, giggling as it gently bounced under their weight. Their nursery teacher could only smile, shaking her head helplessly at the joyful chaos.
"Careful, don't fall now!" Shota called out, his voice steady but kind.
As they crossed the street, he added vigilantly, "Wait, look both ways before crossing."
"You're a natural at this, Shota," Shirakumo said warmly, floating beside him.
"Nah, you're just careless."
Swarmed by eager kindergarteners, Shirakumo laughed softly. "You'd be pretty good at this, y'know! Like at a daycare or as a schoolteacher."
Shota looked at him with tired eyes. "Me? No. You, maybe. What could children possibly like about me?"
Shirakumo only smiled knowingly, the corners of his eyes crinkling as the little cloud bobbed gently beneath the laughing children.
After traveling a short distance, the children clambered off the cloud, their laughter echoing through the neighborhood.
"Bye-bye, Loud!" they called, waving enthusiastically.
"See ya!" the light-blue-haired teen saluted.
"Goodbye, Eraserhead!" another shouted.
Shota paused for a moment, letting the voices linger in the air. He gave a small, quiet smile and returned their waves.
"See?" Shirakumo said, perched beside him, his own smile bright as the sun, warming the gray clouds that started to form around them.
"You really should stop convincing yourself that you can't do this, y'know," the blue-haired cloud hero added.
The black-haired teen stared at him, eyes narrowing slightly.
"You could do just about anything you put your mind to," the floating teen continued.
"Anything? Like, run a daycare? Or be a teacher?" Shota asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yep!"
Shota exhaled, shaking his head. "You should think before you speak, Shirakumo."
"Naw, I'm serious."
*Bzz* *Bzz*
A phone buzzed insistently.
"Hmm? It's Kayama…" Shota muttered, picking up the receiver.
"Aizawa! Start evacuating the area! Now! We've got a nasty villain wrecking the neighborhood!" a frantic voice yelled through the line.
At the same time, the black-haired teen felt it beneath his boots — a subtle rumble of the streets as if the city itself was warning them.
"Dammit! Let's go, Shirakumo!" he shouted.
The pair sprinted toward the spot where the children had been dropped off.
"Huh? It's them again!" one of the kids exclaimed.
The cloud-wielding teen leapt off his hovering formation, arms outstretched. "Get on, kids! You too, ma'am!"
"O-okay!" the children stammered, scrambling onto the solid cloud as it floated steadily.
Above them, the sky darkened, heavy clouds gathering in protest. Shota glanced upward, jaw tight. 'Tsk, we're in for some weather,' he thought.
"C'mon, everyone! Let's make this evacuation fun!" Shirakumo called, his tone light enough to turn fear into laughter for the children.
But then- BOOM!
Dust exploded into the air, revealing a massive villain towering over the streets, his shadow swallowing the pavement.
"That guy's… jumbo-sized!" the Shirakumo exclaimed, eyes widening.
Suddenly, a Pro Hero spun into action. "Leave this to His Majesty!"
He had lengthy, messy dark hair tied in a long ponytail, long bangs partially covering the right side of his face, and a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. A tuft of chest hair peeked from his frilled, open-jacket ensemble, part of a flamboyant two-piece suit.
"Get the little ones out of danger!" the Hero shouted, springing toward the villain with a rose clenched firmly between his teeth, striking a dramatic pose.
The black-haired teen gritted his teeth, keeping one hand on the cloud as it drifted steadily. "Let's make sure everyone gets out safe," he muttered, scanning for civilians.
The blue-haired teen adjusted the formation beneath the children, his grin unwavering despite the rumbling chaos around them. "Follow me, kids! No one gets left behind!"
The Villain, however, did not remain idle. One of the massive, swollen lumps on the toad-like creature's back detached, swelling grotesquely before releasing a devastating soundwave.
"That was… Yamada's voice quirk!?" Eraserhead exclaimed.
Before anyone could react, a second attack followed—blinding flashes of light erupting outward, slamming into the Pro Hero and hurling him violently through nearby buildings.
"And now… Sensoji's blast! So he stores up quirks in the lumps of his back?!"
The aftermath was immediate and catastrophic. The surrounding structures groaned under the strain, cracks spiderwebbing across concrete pillars. Then came the collapse. Massive chunks of cement and steel raining down toward the group.
"No—!" Shota shouted.
Faced with an impossible choice, the Cloud Hero reacted instantly. Solid clouds surged beneath the children and their teacher, protecting them from harm's way. But in doing so, he left himself exposed.
A massive slab of debris crashed down.
"Shirakumo!!!" Shota screamed. "This can't be—! Shirakumo!!!"
The solid cloud shielding the children dissipated, returning to mist as the dust settled.
Frozen in place, the black-haired teen felt his breath hitch when he heard it—a heavy, deliberate step behind him.
Turning slowly, his eyes took in the devastation: injured civilians scattered across the street, fallen Pro Heroes struggling to rise, children crying in terror, bystanders trapped beneath rubble.
'I… I'm the only one still standing…?!'
- - - - -
In a house in a different district...
The rain had started without warning.
It tapped gently at first, then harder, streaking the windows in long, uneven lines as gray clouds swallowed the afternoon light. Inside the house, everything felt smaller somehow. Quieter.
She stood near the window, arms folded loosely, eyes fixed on the street beyond the glass.
The news replayed behind her.
Footage looped. Smoke. Sirens. Blurred shapes running past the camera. The reporter's voice spoke of an attack in a nearby district—heroes dispatched, civilians evacuated, details still unclear.
She didn't need the specifics.
Her fingers tightened at her sleeves.
"…I hope he's doing fine," she murmured, barely louder than the rain.
Her son hated getting wet. Always had. Complained the whole way home whenever the clouds turned dark, the weather turned, shoes soaked, hair dripping, uniform clinging uncomfortably. He laughed it off, of course—said it didn't matter, said it was nothing—but she remembered the way he'd wrinkle his nose, how he'd grumble before smiling anyway.
She glanced at the sky again.
The rain showed no signs of stopping.
"…I hope he wore his jacket," she added softly.
Behind her, the world continued as if nothing were wrong.
On the floor, Sorashi sat cross-legged atop a rug scattered with toys, fully immersed in his own dramatic battlefield. In his hands, two figures were locked together in an intense clash.
One wore a bright orange gi with a blue belt and wristbands, black hair frozen in sharp, gravity-defying spikes. His face was fierce even in plastic—wide eyes, a determined grin, fists clenched as if always ready for another fight.
The other stood taller and leaner, crowned with gold. He wore flowing armor etched with swirling patterns, a red sash tied at his waist, and a long staff held firmly in one hand. A thin tail curved behind him, molded mid-swing, as though he might leap off the floor at any moment.
Sorashi slammed them together with enthusiasm.
"Bam! Pow!" he announced proudly.
The spiky-haired one flew back, straight into a stack of blocks that collapsed with a clatter. Sorashi gasped, eyes wide, then immediately corrected the scene, propping the figure back up.
"No no," he said seriously. "Again."
He made swooshing noises as the staff swung.
"Hyah! You lose!" he said in a mock voice.
The crowned toy figure stood victorious. At least for now.
She watched him for a moment, her expression softening despite herself. He hummed as he played, utterly unbothered, building and destroying his battlefield with careless joy. Outside, rain pattered against the roof. On the screen, disaster replayed itself over and over.
She reached for the remote and lowered the volume, the images still flickering but muted now.
Her gaze drifted back to the window.
"Be careful," she whispered, though she wasn't sure who she was speaking to.
And the rain kept falling.
— — END — —