But I didn’t have time to daydream any further, because when the hospital room door opened again, my eyes met not a menacing, naked figure, but a large crowd of people in various colors.
My classmates.
“Onodera-kun!
You’re awake!” Uraraka’s voice rang out like a bell as she entered, carrying a large basket of fruit, a bright smile on her face, but her eyes still held a hint of worry.
“We came to visit you!”
Behind her, other faces appeared one after another – Ojiro with his tail wagging nervously, Tsuyu with her wide eyes trying to appear calm, Mineta with a pale face still haunted by the experience, Todoroki with a cold, unreadable expression, and… Midoriya Izuku.
He stood at the end of the line, his left sleeve bandaged in pristine white, his green eyes slightly downcast, not daring to look me in the eye.
Like a child who had just done something wrong, he stood silently behind Ochako, as if trying to hide himself.
I sighed inwardly.
Perhaps he still hadn’t forgotten what happened yesterday.
But before I could even greet him, a dry, sharp voice rang out from behind the crowd.
“Move aside!”
The students immediately parted, creating a narrow passageway for the speaker.
Bakugo Katsuki strode in with an imposing gait, hands in his pockets, his bloodshot eyes staring directly at me with a burning gaze.
He wasn’t carrying any gifts, nor did he seem interested; he just stood there, chin held high, chest heaving like a beast restraining its rage.
“Onodera.” His voice was low, like the sound of grinding stones.
“Speak.
What did you do to that criminal?”
The atmosphere in the infirmary instantly froze.
I looked around.
No one said anything.
Uraraka was hunched over, her hands clutching the fruit basket like a lifeline.
Tsuyu put a finger to her lips, signaling silence.
Ojiro turned away, biting his lip.
Todoroki stood there, his eyes as sharp as blades.
And Midoriya…
he squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to prevent any memories of the previous day from returning.
No one answered.
Or rather, no one wanted to talk about it.
But Bakugo wasn’t the type to tolerate a fake silence.
“What are you all so quiet about?” He snapped at them, his voice a growl.
“Nothing, Bakugo-kun…” Uraraka mumbled, evasively.
“I asked Onodera!
Not you!” He roared, then turned to me, leaning in close to my face, his hot breath like fire against mine.
“What did you do to that criminal?
Don’t tell me you just knocked him unconscious and left him.
I saw the flames, heard the screams, and witnessed the criminal being burned to a crisp.
Explain yourself, you bastard!”
I closed my eyes.
I knew this moment would come, but I didn’t expect it to arrive so soon and so intensely.
“It wasn’t a criminal,” I said, trying to sound calm and gentle, as if I were explaining a simple math problem.
“It wasn’t even human.
It was a Nomu – a creature created from inhumane experiments, without consciousness, only capable of obeying orders to kill.
I simply destroyed it to protect everyone before All Might arrived.”
Bakugo stared at me for a long time, his eyes blazing red.
Then he laughed.
A dry, harsh laugh, like the rustling of sand in a storm.
“That sounds smooth, you asshole,” he nodded, his voice sarcastic.
“‘Biological weapon’?
‘Destruction’?
Nonsense!!”
“Bakugo-kun, stop talking…” Uraraka whispered, but he waved his hand to cut her off.
“Shut up!” He didn’t turn around, his eyes still fixed on me.
“I’m not finished.
You say it’s a biological weapon, but I saw it in pain.
It screamed.
It thrashed around like a living creature.
You can fool the idiots here, but don’t expect to fool me, you bastard!”
I calmly looked at him, not flinching.
“If you don’t believe me, you can ask Aizawa-sensei, or All Might.
They’ll explain it to you.”
Bakugo bared his teeth, his anger rising like a raging wave.
“Don’t mess with me!” He slammed his hand against the bed frame, making my bed shake.
The entire hospital room fell silent, the tension between us cracking like a broken string.
“You and I both know.
You’re not the kind of person who ‘simply eliminates a threat.’ You fought it.
You burned it alive.
You heard it scream and struggle.
And you still chose to burn it.
Is that normal?
Is that the act of a hero?!”
No one answered.
But I could feel the silence.
The silence of those trying to forget what they had seen.
The silence of those who wanted to believe I was a hero, but deep down, I was a murderer.
They were silent because they were afraid.
Afraid of Bakugo, afraid of conflict, afraid they would have to take sides.
But I knew that their silence was a silent judgment.
They didn’t speak, but their eyes said it all.
Bakugo took a deep breath, tried to calm himself, but his hands were clenched so tightly that the veins in his hands bulged.
“Who do you think you are?” he snarled, his eyes burning red.
“You think you can kill anyone and call it ‘justice’?
If so, you’re no different from the criminals you’ve eliminated!”
That statement was like a knife stabbing straight into my gut.
Anger.
It surged from the depths of my being, from the lonely days, from the long nights of agonizing helplessness, from the wounds I had tried to bury beneath the facade of strength.
I couldn’t hold back any longer.
“If I eliminate criminals and am considered a murderer, what you did to your friend before is no different from what I did, ‘firecracker’.”
The words rang out like thunder, tearing through the frozen atmosphere of the hospital room.
Everyone around was stunned.
Bakugo froze, his eyes wide, his lips moving as if to speak, but no sound came out.
“Onodera-kun!” Uraraka cried out, her voice filled with panic.
“What…
what did you say?!”
I regained my composure, but it was too late.
The atmosphere around us suddenly changed.
It was no longer a confrontation, but a deep chasm separating me from all of them.
“Onodera-san…” Tsuyu’s voice trembled.
“What do you mean…?”
I swallowed hard, trying to find a way to change the situation, but the words had already been spoken and couldn’t be taken back.
I looked at Midoriya.
He was still standing there, but completely different.
Izuku’s face was so pale I could see every blood vessel beneath his white skin.
His large, round eyes were wide, but no longer filled with astonishment, but with a deep, gaping wound.
He said nothing.
But that look – a mixture of betrayal, hurt, and a touch of fear – said it all.
I probably hurt him.
“Enough,” Bakugo suddenly said, his voice deeper than ever.
He turned his back, no longer looking at me.
“This conversation ends here.
I don’t want to hear another word from you.”
He walked away, everyone following.
Uraraka gave me a sympathetic look, then bowed her head, silently placing the fruit basket on the table and leaving.
Tsuyu followed her, her arm around Ojiro’s shoulder.
Mineta tiptoed out, his face still ashen.
Todoroki paused for a moment, looking at me with an unreadable expression, then turned away.
And finally, Izuku.
He stood silently in front of the door, not turning around.
A moment that lasted, like an eternity.
I wanted to call him back.
I wanted to say that I didn’t mean it, that I said it in anger, that I never wanted to expose Bakugo as a murderer no matter how bad he was.
I wanted to tell him I was sorry for hurting him.
But the words got stuck in my throat, I couldn’t utter them.
And then the door closed.
He was gone.
The hospital room became eerily silent.
I stared up at the stark white ceiling, lifeless.
The sound of the saline solution dripping from the IV bag was like a mournful melody.
A few tears silently rolled down my cheeks, but I didn’t wipe them away.
I’d said it.
I’d hurt Izuku, hurt the only friend I considered here.
You know what?
Fine.
At this point, I’ll definitely have to take matters into my own hands.
Somebody will pay.
And surely the first one will be that damn bastard who dared to question me…
…
Instead of a quick one-day shutdown, U.A.’s council decided to lock the school down for a full six days this time, digging deep into the U.S.J.
shitstorm to figure out what the hell went wrong.
Six damn days of no classes, no training, just a tense limbo while they poked around.
During that stretch, I asked Toga neither to visit nor popping by.
The cops were swarming everywhere, taking statements, sniffing around the incident like bloodhounds.
They claimed it was all “handled,” but there was still a mountain of loose ends to sift through.
One of the biggest?
Why my Quirk’s report from enrollment didn’t line up with the chaos I’d unleashed at the U.S.J.
They’d caught wind of me torching the Nomu with white phosphorus and sodium – moves that didn’t match the tame “body hardening” I’d scribbled down on the forms.
I’d seen that snag coming from a mile away, so I played it off smooth when they grilled me.
Told ’em I lose my shit too easy when I tap into that side of my Quirk – makes me unpredictable, so hiding it was just common sense.
They didn’t push too hard, probably ’cause I was still half-wrecked in a hospital bed, but they slapped me with a warning: Quirk disclosure’s mandatory, no exceptions.
Handed me a fresh form to update since I couldn’t exactly limp my ass to city hall in this state.
Did I fill it out straight?
Fuck no…
not the full truth, anyway.
Half-truths were my game – I wrote down that I can shift my body and other objects into specific materials I’ve absorbed, capped at three types max.
Enough to cover my ass if I pulled some off-the-books shit later, but vague enough to keep the real juice under wraps.
No way I was spilling the whole deal, not when I’d already seen how fast things could spiral.
While the police weren’t too harsh, U.A.
was.
Even though the reason given was that I needed to recover, suspending me for a whole week really annoyed me.
The teachers came to see me many times, constantly questioning me as if they wanted to find something “abnormal” in my head.
It drove me crazy, but I couldn’t do anything except give the same testimony and answers to everyone who came to “interrogate” me.
And during my time in the hospital, two people helped me a great deal.
The first, the most obvious one, was Recovery Girl.
Except they’re just as annoying as those U.A.
teachers, her Quirk was truly miraculous; with just a kiss, she shortened my hospital stay from several weeks to just four days.
She also gave me advice about my situation with Izuku, suggesting I should find a time to apologize properly before it was too late.
That was fine.
But in my plan, apologizing to Izuku, whether before or after everything was over, would only make things worse for him, even though it might actually benefit him in U.A.
and his future Hero career.
Well, an apology wouldn’t kill anyone, and Recovery Girl was actually quite pleased that I listened to her.
The other one, the secret one, was definitely Himiko.
Every time I come back here, my heart races because of what she did before arriving.
Five times.
And except for the time she was locked up at my house and then found her way here through the pager, she stabbed someone every single time.
I’ve fallen in love with a madwoman.
A deranged serial killer.
And she actually finds me “adorable” every time I worry about her getting caught.
Of course, aside from that dangerous and sick aspect, and the fact that she’s always naked here, everything else is pretty fun.
And thanks to her eyes, I’ve seen how rotten this world is.
The police are simply useless.
Ordinary heroes, while bringing safety to the people, are so arrogant they seem brainless, or extremely cunning but only interested in personal gain.
She certainly wouldn’t meet a high-ranking hero, because if she did, she’d definitely be arrested immediately.
Her skills weren’t perfected yet.
So I promised to teach her how to “conceal her presence” using techniques, with only one condition: Hunt, rob, kill, and drink the blood of criminals.
No more hunting innocent people.
Himiko hated it, but at my suggestion, coupled with some thought that popped into her head, she agreed immediately.
First mission: Aldera Junior High School.
Objective: To make that arrogant bastard pay.
A very high price with everything concealed in there.
Time: One day left.