THE FAREWELL
The morning air outside the Hosu General Hospital was crisp, carrying the faint, metallic scent of city reconstruction and the distant hum of the Shinkansen. Sherlock stood at the entrance, his right arm resting in a sleek black medical sling. Beside him, Thomas Itadori stood like a pillar of granite, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his charcoal suit.
"The transport is here," Thomas said, gesturing toward a black sedan idling at the curb. "You're heading back to a world of notebooks and bells, Sherlock. Don't let the normalcy of UA dull your edge. Hosu wasn't a school trip; it was a glimpse into the throat of the beast. What's coming next won't be settled with a few clever lines and a lucky draw."
Sherlock adjusted his glasses, his emerald eyes reflecting the sharp morning sun. "I've updated the variables, Uncle. I know exactly where my limits lie now. The math of my body is no longer a theory."
"Is it?" Thomas stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, authoritative rumble. "That 'Thousand Paper Blast'... it's a suicide note disguised as an attack. You reached for the Void because you were desperate. Don't do it again unless you're prepared to never come back. You're a Sheets, but you're also an Itadori. We don't die in back alleys, and we certainly don't die for nothing."
Sherlock looked at the bandage peeking from his collar. "I don't intend to die, Uncle. I intend to win. Next time, I won't be reaching for the Void—I'll be controlling it."
As Sherlock stepped toward the car, Thomas called out one last time, a rare, sharp smirk crossing his face. "The Hero Public Safety Commission processed your provisional registration this morning. If you're going to act like a professional, you need a designation that isn't just 'Student.' What did you put on the form?"
Sherlock paused, his hand on the door handle. He thought of the cards, the intricate origami scouts, and the way he had turned a deadly alleyway into a theater of calculated illusions.
"The Paper Magician," Sherlock replied, his voice calm and resolute.
Thomas let out a short, dry laugh. "A bit theatrical. But then again, every good cleaner needs a bit of showmanship. Farewell, Paper Magician. Try not to burn out before the summer."
THE RETURN TO THE MANOR
The drive back to the Sheets estate was a journey through a landscape that felt increasingly alien to Sherlock. The lush greenery of the private roads leading to the manor seemed too peaceful, too orderly compared to the visceral chaos of Hosu. When the car finally pulled into the sprawling, cobblestone driveway, the massive oak doors were already being held open.
Sebastian, the head butler, stood at attention with his usual impeccable posture, but the atmosphere inside the foyer was far from its usual cold formality.
Arthur Sheets stood at the base of the grand staircase. He looked every bit the powerful patriarch—clad in a tailored navy waistcoat—but his face was a mask of stern composure betrayed by the tightness around his eyes. Beside him, the Head Maid, Martha, who had practically raised Sherlock after his mother's passing, was already dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
"Master Sherlock!" Martha cried, breaking protocol and rushing forward as soon as he crossed the threshold. She hovered her hands over his sling, afraid to touch him but desperate to inspect the damage. "The news... the fires in Hosu! We saw the reports of the Hero Killer! To think you were in the middle of such savagery while we were here in the quiet!"
"I'm quite alright, Martha," Sherlock said, his voice softening. He allowed her to fuss over him for a moment, sensing the genuine fear behind her maternal hovering. "The bandages are mostly a precaution at this point."
"A precaution?" Arthur's voice boomed through the foyer, cutting through Martha's fretting. "In my study. Now."
The walk to the private library was silent. The heavy mahogany doors clicked shut with a definitive thud, sealing them in a room that smelled of old leather and expensive tobacco. Arthur turned to face his son, his shadow stretching long across the Persian rug.
"I sent you to an internship to learn the logistics of the hero industry, not to undergo a total biological collapse," Arthur began, his voice tight with restrained fury. "Thomas called me. He told me everything. He said you purged your system to the point of cardiac arrest. Do you have any idea what that does to the Sheets legacy? To the stability of our name? To me?"
Sherlock didn't flinch. He walked over to the window, looking out over the perfectly manicured gardens that stretched for miles. "The situation in the alleyway was a cascading failure of variables, Father. Tenya Iida was compromised. Native was paralyzed. Midoriya and Todoroki were at their limits. If I hadn't introduced a Zero-Sum variable, there would be four less UA students today. The legacy would have survived, but I would not have."
Arthur stepped into the light, his expression shifting from anger to a pained sort of frustration. "And if it is required again? Will you simply throw your life away every time the math doesn't favor you? You are a Sheets. You are meant to lead, to calculate, to thrive—not to be a martyr in a gutter."
Sherlock turned back to face him. The green in his eyes seemed deeper now, haunted by the crimson twilight of Hosu. "I won't use it recklessly, Father. I promise you that. But I've learned that sometimes, the only way to save the board is to flip it. I will not trigger the 'Thousand Paper Blast' unless it is the absolute last variable in a losing equation. And by the time that happens... I plan to have mastered the technique so that I don't just survive the void—I own it."
Arthur looked at his son for a long time, seeing the ghost of his late wife in the boy's stubborn jawline and unwavering gaze. He sighed, the tension finally leaving his shoulders as he leaned against his desk.
"You have her heart," Arthur whispered, more to himself than to Sherlock. "And unfortunately, you have her sense of duty. Get some rest, Sherlock. Sebastian has prepared a meal rich in cellulose and iron. You return to UA tomorrow, and I expect you to be the top of your class—not just in the field, but in the books."
"I intend to be both," Sherlock said, bowing slightly.
As he walked toward his quarters, Sherlock felt the weight of the house pressing in on him. It was a place of safety, of luxury, and of stagnant peace. But as he looked at his bandaged hand, he knew his heart was no longer here. It was in the chaos, in the calculation, and in the thrill of the "trick."
THE REUNION: ECHOES OF HOSU
The heavy doors of Class 1-A swung open, and the usual cacophony of teenage energy hit Sherlock like a physical wave. After a week of sterile hospital walls and the hushed, oppressive silence of his father's manor, the chaos of the classroom felt grounded.
"Everyone! Have you heard? The Hero Killer!" Kaminari was practically vibrating at his desk, waving his arms. "I saw the news! You guys were actually there in the thick of it!"
"We were just lucky that Pro Heroes arrived when they did," Iida said, his voice stiff and formal, though he was standing straighter than he had before the internship. His gaze briefly met Sherlock's as the latter walked to his desk. A silent, heavy nod passed between them—a recognition of the blood they had shared in that dark alley.
"I saw the footage of the fires," Ashido chirped, leaning over to Uraraka. "Hosu was like a war zone! Midoriya, Todoroki, Iida, and Sheets-kun... you guys are like celebrities now!"
"It wasn't like that," Midoriya stammered, waving his hands dismissively. "We really didn't do much..."
Sherlock sat at his desk, sliding his bag into the side hook. His right arm was finally free of the sling, but the black compression sleeve peeking out from his blazer sleeve served as a reminder of his limits. He began organizing his pens with mechanical precision when he felt a shadow fall across his workspace.
He looked up. Momo Yaoyorozu was standing there, a stack of curriculum papers clutched to her chest. She had been watching him since he crossed the threshold, her internal monologue a frantic race of observations.
He's changed, she thought, her heart giving a strange, uncoordinated thud. His posture is more guarded, but his frame... he seems more defined. The way he carries himself is less like a student and more like... a survivor. Her eyes lingered on his hair, which had grown just long enough to partially obscure the sharp, analytical light in his Crimson red eyes. It gave him a rugged, mysterious edge that made her throat feel suddenly dry. She cataloged the way his fingers moved—steady, sure, and elegant. Why am I noticing the length of his hair? This is highly illogical. He is a classmate. A Friend. We are here for academic excellence.
"Sherlock-kun," she said, her voice slightly higher than usual. "It is... a relief to see you in person. The reports from Hosu were quite distressing. To think a student of your caliber was pushed to such physical extremes."
Sherlock looked into her dark eyes, noticing the faint flush on her cheeks. "The variables were unpredictable, Yaoyorozu-san. But as you can see, I have recalculated. I am at 98% operational capacity."
"I see," she replied, her heart skipping a beat as he looked directly at her. "I am glad. Class was... notably quieter without your input."
"Quiet down," a tired, gravelly voice echoed from the front. Aizawa-sensei shuffled into the room, looking like he hadn't slept since the previous year. "The bell rang. Sit."
The classroom fell into an instant, respectful silence. Aizawa didn't waste time with pleasantries.
"You've all had your fun playing hero for a week. Now, it's back to the reality of being students. The final exams are approaching. If you fail the written portion, you won't even be allowed to take the practical. And if you fail the practical... there will be no summer training camp. You'll be in remedial hell."
THE CAFETERIA LUNCH
The UA cafeteria was a sea of noise and the scent of Lunch Rush's famous white rice. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. Sherlock sat at a table near the center, the mahogany surface of his tray a sharp contrast to the bright white of the room.
To his right sat Momo Yaoyorozu, her posture impeccable even while eating. Across from them were Tokoyami and Shoji, a table of quiet, observant types. Just a few feet away, at the adjacent table, sat the more boisterous group: Midoriya, Iida, Uraraka, and Mina Ashido.
"Man, everyone's internship stories are so cool!" Mina chirped, poking at her food. "Uraraka got all toughened up by Gunhead, and Iida-kun sheets, midoriya and shoto was in the middle of everything in Hosu!"
"I still have a long way to go to truly honor the name Ingenium," Iida said, his voice echoing with a new, somber resolve.
Momo, who had been listening quietly, let out a small, heavy sigh. She looked down at her tea, her expression clouding with a flicker of self-doubt. "All I did was... well, Uwabami had me doing commercial shoots and modeling. She said it was important for a hero to have a public image, but compared to everyone else's combat training, I feel quite behind."
Before Sherlock could offer a logical rebuttal to her self-deprecation, a shadow fell over their table.
"Oh, look who it is! The celebrities of Class 1-A!" Neito Monoma from Class 1-B leaned against the end of their table, a condescending smirk plastered on his face. "Must be nice to get so much attention for almost getting yourselves killed in Hosu. But don't get too comfortable. One day, the 'trash' of 1-B will surpass you, and—"
"Good afternoon, Monoma-san," Sherlock interrupted smoothly, his voice a calm, flat baritone. He didn't look up from his meal. "I trust your internship with the Vlad King was intellectually stimulating? Your tactical adaptability has always been a fascinating variable to observe."
Monoma choked on his next insult, his face turning a light shade of purple. Being met with genuine, polite interest instead of anger always threw him off his rhythm. "I—yes! It was! Far more efficient than your—"
Itsuka Kendo appeared behind him, delivering a swift chop to the back of Monoma's neck. "Sorry about him! He never knows when to stop."
"Greetings, Kendo-san," Sherlock said, offering a small, respectful nod. "How was your time with Uwabami? I imagine the modeling was a unique challenge for someone of your pragmatic nature."
Kendo laughed, dragging Monoma away by his collar. "It was... different! But I learned a lot about public presence. See you at the practical exams! I hear they're going to be a nightmare this year!"
As Kendo waved and left, Sherlock turned to Momo. He noticed her eyes following the Class 1-B representative.
Kendo-san seems so confident, Momo thought. She handled Uwabami's training and still kept her edge. And the way she and Sherlock-kun spoke... they seem to have a very... professional rapport. A tiny, cold prickle of something she couldn't identify—and wouldn't dare call jealousy—flashed through her mind. He greeted her with such a bright, sincere smile. I suppose pragmatists naturally gravitate toward one another.
"Yaoyorozu-san," Sherlock said, drawing her back. "Uwabami's focus on the 'public eye' is a vital variable. In a hostage situation, a hero's aesthetic can lower the victim's heart rate by up to 15%. Your training wasn't a waste; it was a study in psychological stabilization."
Momo blinked, the warmth returning to her face. "You... truly think so?"
"I don't 'think' it," Sherlock replied, returning to his rice. "I've calculated it. You're more prepared than you realize."
THE ALL MIGHT RACE: GAMMA RADIUS
The afternoon training session took the class to Ground Gamma, a dense, vertical labyrinth of industrial pipes, steel girders, and twisting catwalks.
"I'm here!" All Might's voice boomed as he stood atop a high platform. "For this afternoon's exercise, we will be doing a rescue race! Five people at a time! I'll send out a distress signal from the center, and the first person to reach me wins!"
The first group was called: Iida, Midoriya, Ojiro, Mina, and Sherlock.
"Wait, Sherlock's in this one?" Sero asked, watching from the observation deck. "He replaced me in the rotation. But this is a speed and mobility race. Iida and Deku are the favorites, surely."
"Don't count the Magician out," Tokoyami muttered. "He doesn't run; he calculates the shortest path between two points."
Sherlock stood at the starting line, his eyes closed. He wasn't looking at the steel maze; he was visualizing it.
Deploying "Oragami Scouts," he whispered.
Ten tiny origami spiders dropped from his sleeves and vanished into the pipes. Within seconds, Sherlock's mind was flooded with thermal and structural data. He could "feel" the heat of the steam vents and the vibration of the moving machinery within a 50-meter radius. He didn't need to see the obstacles; he already knew their frequency.
"GO!" All Might roared.
Iida blasted forward, his engines screaming as he took the main catwalk. Midoriya followed with a sudden, emerald flash of Full Cowl, leaping between the pipes with the agility of a frantic rabbit.
Sherlock didn't leap. He glided.
He activated the Shikigami Dance, his body becoming a blur of white and black. As he hit the first vertical pipe, he didn't climb it—he used a Molecular Hardened Card as a temporary anchor, swinging around the curve with zero loss of momentum.
Midoriya was pulling ahead, his new "movement" style leaving the class in awe. "He's like a different person!" Kirishima shouted. "Look at those leaps!"
But Sherlock was silent. He saw a massive steam vent ahead, its temperature rising to a level that would stall Iida's engines or burn Midoriya's skin. Without slowing down, Sherlock flicked two cards. They didn't hit the vent; they hit the pressure valves nearby, diverting the steam for exactly 1.5 seconds—the exact window he needed to pass through.
He moved through the maze like a ghost in the machine. While Iida was forced to take wide turns and Midoriya had to calculate his landings, Sherlock was moving in a near-perfect diagonal line toward All Might.
In the final stretch, Midoriya and Iida were neck-and-neck, but then, a swirl of white paper passed them from above. Sherlock had used the rising heat from a lower furnace to create a thermal lift for his paper-shrouded body. He landed on the platform, his breath steady, exactly one second before Midoriya's hand touched the railing.
"SHERLOCK SHEETS WINS!" All Might declared, his grin wide.
THE GROWTH OF THE ELITE
The class was silent for a moment before erupting into chatter.
"No way! He beat Deku and Iida in a straight race?" Kaminari yelled. "How did he even see those shortcuts?!"
Midoriya landed on the platform, panting, his eyes wide with realization. "Sheets-kun... you weren't just moving fast. You were manipulating the environment's physics as you went, weren't you?"
"I simply used the scouts to identify the path of least resistance," Sherlock replied, offering a hand to help Midoriya up. "Your growth is impressive, Midoriya. Your movement is no longer a imitation; it's becoming your own."
"And you," Iida said, walking over and adjusting his glasses. "Your precision is... frightening. You didn't waste a single Joule of energy."
From the observation deck, the rest of the class watched the three boys standing with All Might.
"They've all changed," Uraraka said softly. "The internship... it didn't just give them experience. It gave them a new way of looking at the world."
Momo watched Sherlock from the monitor. Her heart was still racing, partly from the excitement of the race and partly from the sight of Sherlock standing atop the highest point in Ground Gamma, the wind ruffling his dark hair.
He didn't just win, she realized. He mastered the chaos. If that is the standard he has set... then I have a mountain to climb before the practical exams.
_________________________________________
I am thinking to write another mha fanfic choose which one i should start first The FF will start from next week Please all of you choose one
1. MHA:- The Devil footprint ( quirk based on shinra from fire force )
2. MHA:- The Creeping Hunger ( quirk based on Creeping Hunger artifact from lotm mc can have 5 quirk but have to killed that person to have it )
3. MHA:- The illustionist ( quirk based on loki illusion magic mc will be like an magician and tickster)
4. MHA:- Mr Fool ( quirk based on lotm fool pathway our mc will will be isekai and have fool pathway )