Yoshikage Kira had not planned to visit U.A. High School.
The invitation came from Izuku, relayed through an awkward phone call where the boy had stammered his way through explaining that All Might had spoken to Principal Nedzu, who had expressed interest in meeting the "supplementary combat instructor" who'd apparently taught one of their students more in three months than they had in a semester.
"It's completely optional!" Izuku had hastened to add. "You don't have to come if you don't want to, I know you're busy, but Principal Nedzu said he'd like to discuss possibly bringing you on as a guest instructor for—"
"I'll come," Yoshikage had interrupted.
Not because he had any interest in working with U.A. Not because he wanted to be part of their broken system.
But because the opportunity to demonstrate to an entire class of future heroes—and their teachers—exactly how inadequate their training was... that was too good to pass up.
So here he was, walking through U.A.'s gates in his "Hikaru Saito" identity, visitor badge clipped to his jacket, Killer Queen invisible at his side.
Let's see how badly they've failed these students, he thought.
Class 1-A: A Systematic Breakdown
The classroom was exactly as he'd imagined from the manga: spacious, modern, filled with teenagers who had no idea how unprepared they were for actual hero work.
Principal Nedzu—a creature that looked like a mouse-bear-dog hybrid in a suit—greeted him warmly. "Ah, Saito-san! Thank you for coming. Class, this is Hikaru Saito, a martial arts instructor who has been providing supplementary training to Young Midoriya. He's agreed to do a brief session on combat fundamentals."
The students looked at him with varying degrees of interest. Some curious, some skeptical, some—like Bakugo—openly hostile.
"Supplementary training?" a boy with spiky red hair—Kirishima—asked. "Like, extra hero training?"
"Like basic competence training," Yoshikage corrected. "Which you should have received in your first week here but apparently didn't."
The atmosphere in the room shifted.
"Excuse me?" a girl with a ponytail—Yaoyorozu—said politely but with an edge. "U.A. has the most comprehensive hero curriculum in Japan. We receive extensive training in—"
"Quirk application," Yoshikage interrupted. "Yes. I watched the Sports Festival. I saw exactly what kind of training you receive. It's inadequate."
"The hell did you just say?" Bakugo stood up, hands crackling with small explosions.
"Sit down, Bakugo," Yoshikage said coldly, and something in his tone—the absolute confidence, the complete lack of fear—made the explosive boy hesitate.
Yoshikage turned to address the entire class.
"I'm going to do something your teachers should have done on day one," he said. "I'm going to tell you exactly how unprepared you are for actual combat. I'm going to identify your weaknesses systematically. And then I'm going to explain what you need to do to address them."
He pulled out his notebook—the one from the Sports Festival, now extensively annotated.
"Let's start with you," he pointed at Yaoyorozu. "Momo Yaoyorozu. Creation Quirk. You can produce any non-living object from your body by understanding its molecular structure."
Yaoyorozu nodded, looking confused about where this was going.
"Your Quirk is one of the most versatile in this class," Yoshikage continued. "Potentially one of the most powerful. You could create explosives, firearms, advanced technology, chemical weapons. You could be a one-person army."
Yaoyorozu's expression brightened slightly.
"Instead," Yoshikage said flatly, "you create sticks. Shields. Simple machines. During the Sports Festival, you created a staff to fight Tokoyami. A medieval weapon against a modern opponent. That's not tactical thinking—that's a failure of imagination and training."
The brightness disappeared.
"Your Quirk requires knowledge of molecular structures," Yoshikage continued. "So why haven't you spent every spare hour studying chemistry, engineering, materials science? Why don't you have encyclopedic knowledge of weapons, tools, and technology? Your Quirk's limitation is your knowledge base, and you're not maximizing it."
He made a note in his book while Yaoyorozu sat in stunned silence.
"Next. Tokoyami Fumikage. Dark Shadow Quirk."
The bird-headed boy looked up warily.
"You have a sentient, semi-autonomous shadow creature that can change size and shape, with strength that increases in darkness. The tactical applications are endless—scouting, multi-directional attacks, environmental manipulation, psychological warfare."
Yoshikage paused.
"You use it as a battering ram. You send Dark Shadow forward in straight-line attacks while you stand still like a turret. You don't use its autonomous nature for independent action. You don't coordinate attacks from multiple angles. You don't use it for reconnaissance. You waste its potential on the most obvious application possible."
Tokoyami's beak was clenched tight, but he didn't argue.
"Ashido Mina. Acid Quirk with variable corrosiveness."
The pink girl smiled nervously. "Uh, hi?"
"You can produce acid that melts through almost anything," Yoshikage said. "You have excellent mobility and athletic capability. You should be a nightmare opponent—creating acid traps, area denial, dissolving enemy equipment and terrain."
He flipped a page.
"Instead you throw acid at people like you're in a water balloon fight. No strategy, no setup, no environmental awareness. During the Sports Festival, you had multiple opportunities to use your acid to alter the terrain to your advantage. You didn't take any of them."
Ashido's smile disappeared.
Yoshikage went through the class systematically, each critique precise and devastating:
Kirishima Eijirou: "Hardening Quirk with excellent defensive capabilities. You use it to tank hits instead of combining defense with counterattacks. You have no grappling training, no ground fighting skills. Anyone with submission techniques could choke you unconscious and your hardening wouldn't help."
Kaminari Denki: "Electricity Quirk with area-of-effect potential. You overload yourself into idiocy because you have no concept of power modulation or targeted discharge. You could incapacitate specific opponents with precision. Instead you're a flashbang that hurts yourself."
Jirou Kyouka: "Sound-based Quirk with reconnaissance potential. You use it almost exclusively for offense. You could be the team's intelligence gatherer, using your enhanced hearing to detect enemies, identify threats, coordinate teammates. You waste it on sonic attacks."
Hagakure Tooru: "Invisibility Quirk. Permanent invisibility. You could be the perfect stealth operative, infiltrator, spy. You have no training in silent movement, no combat training for surprise attacks, no understanding of how to exploit your advantage. You're invisible and somehow still useless in combat situations."
The invisible girl made a sound that might have been a sob.
Sero Hanta: "Tape Quirk with binding and mobility applications. You use it like Spider-Man's webs but with none of the tactical thinking. You could restrain multiple opponents simultaneously, create barriers, set traps. You just swing around and occasionally tie people up."
Satou Rikidou: "Sugar-powered strength enhancement. Straightforward Quirk, but you have no martial arts training to use that strength effectively. You're just a strong guy who punches things. Any skilled fighter could outmaneuver you."
Kouda Kouji: "Animal communication. You can control any animal. Do you understand how powerful that is? Birds for reconnaissance. Insects for infiltration. Larger animals for combat support. You could coordinate entire ecosystems against opponents. You barely use it."
He went through every student, even the ones who'd shown competence:
Todoroki Shouto: "Dual-element Quirk with massive offensive capability. You're tactically sound but psychologically compromised. Your refusal to use your fire side makes you predictable. You're also relying entirely on Quirk power with minimal hand-to-hand training. If someone gets inside your range, you're vulnerable."
Iida Tenya: "Engine Quirk. Excellent speed and mobility. But you move in straight lines, you telegraph your attacks, and you have no backup strategy if speed doesn't work. You're one-dimensional."
Uraraka Ochako: "Zero Gravity Quirk. You showed good tactical thinking during the Sports Festival, but your execution is slow and you're too hesitant to use your Quirk aggressively. You could be floating opponents into the sky and dropping them. You could be creating zero-gravity zones as area denial. You're not ruthless enough."
Finally, he turned to Bakugo.
"Bakugo Katsuki. Explosion Quirk. Powerful, versatile, with mobility and offensive applications."
Bakugo glared at him. "Yeah? What's my weakness, asshole?"
"You," Yoshikage said simply.
"What?"
"Your weakness is you," Yoshikage repeated. "Your Quirk is fine. Your physical capabilities are above average. Your combat instincts are decent. But your ego makes you predictable. Your need to prove dominance makes you take unnecessary risks. Your inability to work with others makes you a liability in team situations. Your refusal to adapt your strategy makes you one-dimensional despite having a versatile Quirk."
He closed his notebook.
"You could be an excellent hero," Yoshikage said. "If you got over yourself and actually thought about tactical application instead of just 'explode harder.'"
Bakugo looked like he wanted to murder him, but notably, he didn't argue.
Yoshikage turned to address the entire class.
"Every single one of you has significant potential," he said. "And every single one of you is being failed by a system that teaches Quirk usage instead of actual combat effectiveness. You're being trained to be flashy, not competent. Powerful, not tactical. Reactive, not strategic."
He looked at the teachers present—Aizawa had been observing from the back of the classroom, along with Present Mic and All Might in his civilian form.
"And your teachers are enabling this failure," Yoshikage continued. "Because they're products of the same system. They've been heroes for so long that they've forgotten what actual combat training looks like."
"That's a serious accusation," Aizawa said, stepping forward. "You're claiming professional heroes don't know how to train students?"
"I'm claiming you're training them to use Quirks, not to fight," Yoshikage replied. "There's a difference."
"Then prove it," Aizawa challenged. "You're so confident in your assessment? Demonstrate your superiority."
Yoshikage smiled.
Exactly what I was hoping for.
Exhibition Match: One Versus All
They moved to Training Ground Beta—an urban environment simulation perfect for the demonstration Yoshikage had in mind.
The terms were simple: Yoshikage versus all the U.A. teachers present. Aizawa, Present Mic, Ectoplasm, Cementoss, Midnight, and Thirteen. Six professional heroes against one "civilian martial arts instructor."
The students were watching from a safe observation area, cameras recording everything.
"This is insane," Yoshikage heard Izuku muttering. "He's going to fight six professional heroes? He's going to get destroyed—"
"Your concern is noted, Young Midoriya," All Might said quietly. "But I suspect Saito-san knows what he's doing."
Damn right I do, Yoshikage thought.
Principal Nedzu's voice came over the intercom. "The exercise will begin in thirty seconds. Victory conditions: Teachers must restrain or incapacitate Saito-san. Saito-san must evade or incapacitate the teachers. Lethal force is prohibited. Begin on my mark."
Yoshikage stood in the center of a simulated street, hands in his pockets, completely relaxed.
The teachers spread out, taking tactical positions. Aizawa on a rooftop for sight-line control. Midnight moving to flank. Cementoss preparing to manipulate the environment. Ectoplasm creating clones. Present Mic ready with sonic attacks. Thirteen holding back for support.
Professional positioning, Yoshikage noted. They're taking this seriously. Good.
"BEGIN!"
Aizawa's eyes locked onto Yoshikage, and his Erasure Quirk activated.
Yoshikage felt... nothing.
Because Killer Queen wasn't a Quirk. It was a Stand. And Erasure didn't work on Stands.
But he pretended to be affected, stumbling slightly, making Aizawa think his "combat enhancement Quirk" had been disabled.
Present Mic attacked first, unleashing a directional sonic blast that should have incapacitated any civilian.
Yoshikage moved.
Not superhuman speed—not yet—just excellent footwork and prediction, dodging before the attack fully launched.
Ectoplasm's clones rushed in from multiple directions, a coordinated assault meant to overwhelm through numbers.
Yoshikage flowed through them like water, Judo throws and Muay Thai strikes dispatching clones with minimal wasted motion. Each clone dissolved after a single hit—not designed for durability.
Testing my hand-to-hand capabilities, Yoshikage analyzed. Smart.
Cementoss raised walls to box him in, creating a concrete prison.
Yoshikage activated Hamon—just a burst, controlled release—and struck the wall with a palm strike.
The concrete shattered, golden energy conducting through the structure and causing catastrophic molecular disruption.
"What was that?!" he heard someone shout from the observation area.
Aizawa should have erased that, Yoshikage thought. He's going to realize his Quirk isn't working properly.
But Aizawa was already moving, capture weapon extending, trying to bind Yoshikage from range.
Yoshikage caught the cloth—Hamon-enhanced reflexes making the normally impossible catch trivial—and pulled.
Aizawa came flying off the rooftop, his weapon turned against him.
Yoshikage released the cloth mid-pull and delivered a Hamon-charged palm strike to Aizawa's chest as the hero came into range.
Not enough to seriously injure—he was controlling the output carefully—but enough to disrupt Aizawa's nervous system and knock him unconscious.
One down.
Midnight released her Somnambulist gas, sweet-smelling sedative flooding the area.
Yoshikage held his breath—Hamon breathing techniques allowed for extended breath-holding—and moved through the gas using Killer Queen's invisible hands to feel the environment.
He found Midnight by her heat signature, grabbed her wrist before she could react to the invisible Stand, and applied a Judo chokehold.
She was unconscious in seconds.
Two down.
Present Mic unleashed a full-power sonic scream, the kind that shattered concrete.
Yoshikage activated full-body Hamon, the golden energy creating a barrier that disrupted the sound waves before they could damage his body.
Then he threw a Hamon-charged pebble—picked up from the ground earlier—with perfect accuracy.
The pebble struck Present Mic's vocal apparatus with precisely controlled force, causing temporary paralysis of the vocal cords.
Present Mic collapsed, unable to scream, gasping for air.
Three down.
Cementoss was creating massive concrete structures now, trying to crush Yoshikage under tons of material.
Time to show them what Killer Queen can do.
Yoshikage touched a piece of concrete debris.
It became a bomb.
He detonated it.
The explosion—silent, perfect, complete—vaporized the debris and sent a shockwave that destabilized Cementoss's concrete creations.
"His Quirk is ACTIVE!" someone shouted from the observation area. "How is his Quirk active when Eraserhead is looking at him?!"
Because it's not a Quirk, Yoshikage thought.
He manifested Killer Queen fully now, knowing the teachers couldn't see it but the cameras would show his movements becoming supernaturally precise.
Killer Queen touched multiple pieces of debris, turning them into bombs.
Yoshikage detonated them in sequence, creating a controlled demolition that brought down Cementoss's structures.
The concrete hero was buried—not injured, the concrete formed a protective shell around him—but trapped and out of the fight.
Four down.
Ectoplasm had created even more clones, dozens of them, attacking from all angles.
This is where I show them the difference between Quirk reliance and actual combat skill.
Yoshikage didn't use Killer Queen. Didn't use Hamon beyond basic enhancement.
Just pure martial arts.
He flowed through the clones like he was dancing, each movement precise and economical. Jabs, crosses, hooks, elbows, knees, kicks—every strike from his eighteen months of daily training, executed with perfect form.
Clones dissolved around him like mist.
Within ninety seconds, all of them were gone, and Ectoplasm's real body—hidden among the clones—was on the ground with a Hamon-enhanced strike to his solar plexus rendering him temporarily paralyzed.
Five down.
That left Thirteen.
The space hero had been hanging back, probably hoping to use their Black Hole Quirk as a last resort.
Yoshikage appeared in front of them before they could activate it—Hamon-enhanced speed making him faster than their reaction time—and delivered a precise strike to a pressure point.
Thirteen collapsed, conscious but unable to move.
Six for six.
Total engagement time: four minutes, thirty-seven seconds.
The training ground was silent.
Yoshikage stood in the center of the destroyed urban simulation, not even breathing hard, surrounded by six unconscious or incapacitated professional heroes.
Principal Nedzu's voice came over the intercom, and there was audible excitement in his tone: "FASCINATING! Absolutely fascinating! The exercise is concluded. Medical team to Training Ground Beta immediately."
Yoshikage walked toward the observation area, where the students were staring at him in complete shock.
"That," he said clearly, "is what competence looks like. Not overwhelming Quirk power. Not flashy special moves. Just proper training, tactical awareness, and the ability to adapt to any situation."
He looked at each student in turn.
"Every teacher I just fought is stronger than me in raw Quirk power," he continued. "Aizawa has more experience. Present Mic has a more destructive offensive capability. Cementoss can manipulate an entire battlefield. But I won because I'm better trained, better prepared, and I actually think tactically instead of relying on my abilities to carry me."
"How—" Yaoyorozu started, then stopped. "How did you—Aizawa's Erasure should have—"
"Should have disabled my Quirk?" Yoshikage finished. "It did. The energy enhancement and combat form you saw? That wasn't my Quirk. That was pure technique. Martial arts trained to superhuman levels. Energy control learned through meditation and breathing exercises. Combat awareness developed through thousands of hours of practice."
This was a lie, of course. But a useful one.
"Anyone can do what I just did," he said. "You don't need a special Quirk. You don't need genetic advantages. You just need proper training and the discipline to pursue it."
He pulled out his notebook and tossed it to Yaoyorozu.
"That's every weakness I identified in this class, and recommended training to address them. You can share it or not—your choice. But understand this: If you graduate from U.A. without addressing these issues, you will fail as heroes. Not because you're not strong enough or don't have good Quirks, but because you're not competent enough."
He turned to leave, then paused.
"Oh, and Midoriya? Same time next week. We're adding weapons training to your curriculum."
"Y-yes sir!" Izuku squeaked.
Yoshikage left the observation area, medical personnel rushing past him to tend to the teachers he'd incapacitated.
Behind him, he could hear the students erupting in shocked conversation, questioning everything they'd been taught.
Good, he thought. Let them question. Let them doubt. Let them realize the system is failing them.
Maybe some of them will actually do something about it.
The League (Again): A Study in Futility
That evening, Yoshikage's intelligence network alerted him to another League of Villains meeting.
They're planning something, the report said. Chatter suggests major operation in two weeks.
Yoshikage sighed.
Of course they are. Because they learned nothing from the U.S.J. disaster. Nothing from my warnings. They're just going to keep being stupid until they all get arrested or killed.
He almost didn't go. Almost decided they weren't worth his time anymore.
But morbid curiosity won out.
He arrived at the bar to find the League in the middle of a heated argument.
"—telling you, we need to make a statement!" Shigaraki was shouting. "Something big! Something that shows we're not afraid of—"
He stopped when he noticed Yoshikage standing in the doorway.
"You," Shigaraki said flatly. "What do you want?"
"I heard you were planning something stupid," Yoshikage replied, walking in uninvited. "Thought I'd confirm before I completely write you off as hopeless."
"We don't need your approval," Dabi said from his position at the bar.
"No, you need basic competence, but apparently that's too much to ask." Yoshikage looked around the room. "What's the plan this time? Another direct attack on U.A.? Kidnapping someone? Random terrorism?"
The silence confirmed it.
"You're actually going to try the training camp attack," Yoshikage said incredulously. "I told you that would fail. I explained exactly why it would fail. And you're doing it anyway?"
"Sensei approved the plan," Shigaraki said defensively.
"Sensei is using you as a distraction," Yoshikage replied. "He doesn't care if you succeed or fail. You're just keeping heroes busy while he does... whatever it is he actually cares about."
"You don't know anything about Sensei's plans," Kurogiri said.
"I know he's a two-hundred-year-old manipulator who's had countless opportunities to destroy hero society and hasn't," Yoshikage replied. "Which means either he's incompetent—unlikely—or he has goals that don't align with what he's telling you."
"And what are YOUR goals?" Toga asked, tilting her head. "You keep showing up to criticize us, but you never actually do anything."
Yoshikage smiled.
"I'm about to," he said. "In fact, I'm about to do something none of you have managed in your entire villainous careers: I'm going to actually change the status quo."
"Big talk," Dabi muttered.
"It's not talk." Yoshikage checked his watch. "In approximately six hours, I'm going to erase the Symbol of Evil from existence. All For One will cease to be. And when he's gone, you'll realize how little you actually mattered to his plans."
The room went dead silent.
"You're going to what?" Shigaraki whispered.
"Kill All For One," Yoshikage said casually. "Well, not kill exactly. Erase. Remove from the timeline so completely that nobody will remember he existed. Including you."
"That's impossible," Kurogiri said.
"It would be impossible for you," Yoshikage agreed. "Because you're thinking in terms of Quirks and conventional combat. I'm thinking in terms of abilities you can't perceive or counter."
"You're insane," Shigaraki said. "Even if you could somehow kill Sensei, which you can't, you'd have every villain in Japan hunting you. You'd—"
"Nobody will remember him," Yoshikage interrupted. "That's the point. When I'm done, it will be like he never existed. You won't hunt me because you won't remember there was anyone to avenge."
He turned to leave.
"This is the last time I'm visiting," he said. "After tonight, you're on your own. You'll continue being incompetent villains. You'll continue failing at everything you attempt. And eventually, you'll all be arrested or killed because you're too stupid to learn from your mistakes."
"Wait—" Shigaraki started.
But Yoshikage was already gone, stepping into the night.
Behind him, he could hear the League arguing, probably debating whether he was bluffing.
They'll find out soon enough, he thought.
Or rather, they won't. Because they won't remember there was anything to find out about.
The Erasure: All For One
Yoshikage had been preparing for this moment for weeks.
He'd tracked All For One to his current location—a medical facility in Yokohama, heavily guarded, where the villain was recovering from his injuries and coordinating his various plans.
He'd studied the facility's layout, identified the security measures, planned his infiltration route.
He'd refined Bites the Dust: Requiem until it was perfect, tested it multiple times to ensure stability.
And now, at 2:37 AM, he was ready.
He approached the facility invisible—not through a Quirk, but through Killer Queen's ability to phase through walls and his own skills in stealth and infiltration.
The guards never saw him. The cameras never caught him. The security systems remained unaware.
He moved through the building like a ghost, Hamon suppressing his life signs, Killer Queen scouting ahead with invisible precision.
All For One's room was on the top floor, isolated, surrounded by the most advanced security in the building.
Meaningless against someone who can walk through walls.
Yoshikage stepped through the final barrier and into the room where the Symbol of Evil rested.
All For One was in his life-support chair, breathing apparatus covering his face, surrounded by medical equipment.
But his eyes—or the sensors where his eyes should have been—turned toward Yoshikage immediately.
"Ah," All For One's voice came through the apparatus, cultured and calm. "The young man from before. I wondered if you'd come back."
"You knew I would," Yoshikage said.
"I suspected. You have the feel of someone who doesn't leave loose ends." All For One's head tilted. "You're here to kill me, I assume?"
"Something like that."
"Interesting. Most people who want me dead make grand declarations first. Explain their motivations, their grievances, their moral justifications." All For One sounded almost amused. "You're just... here. Businesslike. I appreciate the efficiency."
"I'm not doing this for moral reasons," Yoshikage said. "I'm doing it because you're an obstacle to my goals. Your existence complicates things. So I'm removing you."
"Direct. I like that." All For One shifted slightly in his chair. "But you should know—I have dozens of Quirks designed specifically to protect me from assassination attempts. Force fields, danger sensing, automatic retaliation. You won't reach me before I counter."
"You're assuming I need to reach you," Yoshikage replied.
He activated Killer Queen.
The Stand manifested, invisible to All For One but present and ready.
"Bites the Dust: Requiem," Yoshikage said quietly.
Killer Queen's third eye opened, blazing with golden Hamon energy.
"What—" All For One started.
The Stand touched the air between them, and reality bent.
All For One didn't explode. Didn't disintegrate. Didn't die in any conventional sense.
He simply... stopped existing.
One moment, the Symbol of Evil was sitting in his chair, speaking.
The next moment, there was just an empty room with medical equipment connected to nothing.
Yoshikage felt the timeline shift, reality restructuring itself around the absence.
All For One had never existed.
Which meant the Quirk singularity wars had happened differently. Hero society had developed differently. All Might's history was different—no mentor to kill, no great villain to define himself against.
Tomura Shigaraki had never been Tenko Shimura rescued by a villain. He'd had a different life entirely, probably never became a villain at all.
The League of Villains either didn't exist or existed in a completely different form.
And nobody—nobody—would remember it had ever been otherwise.
Except Yoshikage.
Because he was the one who'd activated Bites the Dust: Requiem. He was the center of the effect. His memories remained intact.
He stood alone in the empty room, feeling the weight of what he'd just done.
I just erased the main villain of the series, he thought. Changed the entire timeline. Removed one of the most powerful beings in this universe from existence so thoroughly that nobody knows he was ever there.
This is what real villainy looks like. Not speeches. Not grand gestures. Just making your enemies cease to exist.
He turned and left the facility the same way he'd entered, invisible and undetected.
Behind him, security teams would find the medical equipment running with no patient. They'd be confused, would check records, would find... nothing. Because there had never been a patient.
The conspiracy theories would start. The confusion would spread.
But nobody would remember All For One.
Nobody except Yoshikage Kira.
Aftermath: A Changed World
Yoshikage returned to his apartment and immediately checked news sources, historical records, his own notes.
Everything had changed.
The history he remembered—the history from the manga—was gone. This timeline had developed differently without All For One's influence.
Hero society still existed, but it was subtly different. All Might was still the Number One Hero, but his backstory was altered. No murdered mentor. No great villain defining his career. He'd become the Symbol of Peace through different circumstances.
The League of Villains didn't exist. Tomura Shigaraki was... Yoshikage searched online and found him listed as a social worker helping trauma victims. That's ironic.
Dabi—Touya Todoroki—had apparently survived his training incident and reconciled with his family. He was a mid-ranked fire hero working independently.
Toga had been successfully treated for her Quirk's psychological effects and was a normal high school student.
Kurogiri had never been created because the doctor who would have created him had been working for All For One, and without All For One, that doctor had pursued different research.
I dismantled the entire villain side of the plot, Yoshikage realized. The training camp attack won't happen because there's no League to attack it. The Kamino incident won't happen. The Paranormal Liberation War won't happen. All of it, just... gone.
He should have felt triumphant. Satisfied. He'd accomplished what he'd set out to do—removed a major threat and changed the timeline.
Instead, he felt...
Empty.
Because the problems he'd identified—the systematic failures of hero society, the corruption of the HPSC, the inadequate training of students—those were all still there.
All For One had been a symptom, not the cause.
I erased the wrong person, Yoshikage thought. Or at least, I erased only one of many people who need to be erased.
But that was fine.
Because he'd just proven the concept. Bites the Dust: Requiem worked. He could erase anyone from existence.
HPSC officials who were irredeemably corrupt? Erased.
Heroes who were actively harmful to society? Erased.
Systems that couldn't be reformed? Remove the people maintaining them, erase them so thoroughly that nobody remembers why the system existed in the first place.
This is the ultimate power, Yoshikage realized. Not destruction. Not control. But the ability to make problems cease to have ever existed.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Izuku: "Hikaru-san! Are you okay? I had the weirdest feeling like something changed but I can't remember what. Did you feel it too?"
Yoshikage stared at the message.
Midoriya is sensitive to the timeline changes. Probably because of One For All, or because he's naturally perceptive, or because he's connected to me through Bites the Dust.
He typed back: "Just a strange night. Don't worry about it. See you for training next week."
Then he pulled out his master notebook and began writing.
Project: Systematic Dismantlement of Hero Society
Phase 1: Discredit - COMPLETE
Exposed 17 corrupt heroesCreated widespread doubt about hero systemDemonstrated villain incompetence (obsolete—villains no longer exist in previous form)
Phase 2: Disrupt - IN PROGRESS
Demonstrated superiority to U.A. teachers ✓Identified weaknesses in Class 1-A training ✓Developed Bites the Dust: Requiem ✓Erased All For One ✓Next: Target HPSC infrastructure and corrupt officials
Phase 3: Destroy and Rebuild - PLANNING
Use Bites the Dust: Requiem to remove irredeemable elementsCreate power vacuum that forces systemic changeEstablish new framework for hero society based on competence, not genetics[Details to be determined]
He stared at the notebook, at the grand plan that was actually starting to work.
I just changed the world, he thought. Removed one of its biggest threats without anyone even knowing there was a threat to remove.
And I can do it again. And again. Until this society is what it should have been from the beginning.
Killer Queen manifested beside him, glowing faintly with residual Hamon energy.
"We're just getting started," Yoshikage said quietly. "All For One was practice. Now we move on to the real targets."
The Stand's third eye—the mark of Bites the Dust: Requiem—gleamed in the darkness.
Outside, the world continued as if nothing had changed.
But everything had changed.
All For One had never existed.
And Yoshikage Kira had proven he could erase anyone from reality itself.
The moment you thought you'd achieved enough, he reminded himself, was the moment you started losing.
But I haven't achieved enough. Not nearly enough.
There's still an entire corrupt system to dismantle.
And now I have the perfect tool to do it.
He closed his notebook and began planning his next move.
The countdown to Phase 3 had begun.
And nobody—nobody—would see it coming.
Because by the time they realized what was happening, they would have been erased from existence.
Quietly.
Efficiently.
Perfectly.
Just as it should be.