The largest press conference room at U.A.
High School had never felt so suffocating.
The air was thick with fury, curiosity, and the unmistakable glee of hundreds of reporters from television stations, web outlets, and social media news sites.
On the podium, Principal Nezu, Aizawa Shouta, and Vlad King sat in a row.
All Might was absent.
The Symbol of Peace had been ordered to stay away to prevent the media firestorm from incinerating the last pillar of superhero society.
Nezu tapped the microphone lightly.
A small screech rang out, drawing the attention of the entire hall.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” Nezu began, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of a mountain.
“Regarding the broadcast incident during the U.A.
Sports Festival finals, we would like to issue an official statement.”
The hall fell into absolute silence.
Every camera lens was aimed at the small creature that looked like a cross between a bear and a mouse.
“First, U.A.
affirms that the content of the leaked footage and documents broadcast nationwide… is currently under verification.
However, as a leading educational institution, we absolutely do not tolerate any form of school violence or encouragement of suicide.”
Nezu paused for a moment.
His beady black eyes swept across the crowd like a predator observing a pack of hungry wolves.
“Therefore, we have made the following decision: Student Bakugo Katsuki will be indefinitely suspended pending a full investigation.
Additionally, his title as this year’s U.A.
Sports Festival Champion has been officially revoked.”
The hall erupted.
Arms shot up chaotically as overlapping shouts created a storm of noise.
“Principal Nezu!
Does this mean U.A.
admits to admitting a student with the personality of a criminal?!”
“What do you think about All Might personally awarding a medal to someone who once told his classmate to commit suicide?!”
“We contacted Aldera Middle School and they refused to comment!
Did U.A.
use its influence to cover up Bakugo Katsuki’s records?!”
Aizawa gritted his teeth.
His hand hidden beneath the table clenched into a fist so tight his knuckles turned white.
He leaned forward toward the microphone, his voice hoarse and sharp as a razor, cutting through the chaos.
“U.A.
has covered up nothing.
We admit students based on open practical and theoretical exams.
As for Aldera Middle School, U.A.
has officially sent a formal request to the Ministry of Education for a comprehensive investigation into their record-keeping system.
If there was any concealment, the responsibility lies with those who falsified behavioral evaluations long before that student ever stepped through our gates.”
“But you are Heroes!” A female reporter shot to her feet, thrusting her microphone toward the podium.
“You are expected to see through people’s true natures!
Instead of protecting the weak, you allowed a school bully to become the center of the nation!
If this hadn’t been exposed by the criminal Gentle Criminal, would Bakugo Katsuki have become a legitimate ‘Pro Hero’ and continued trampling over others?!”
That question struck like a knife to the heart.
Aizawa froze.
Nezu could only maintain his calm expression with visible strain.
This disaster had far exceeded the bounds of a simple school scandal.
It was eroding the public’s trust in the entire system.
“U.A.
should just shut down!” Someone shouted from the back of the room.
“That’s right!
Stop letting potential murderers wear hero costumes!”
Outside U.A.’s main gate, the situation was even worse.
Thousands of protesters had flooded the surrounding streets.
Banners and placards demanding Bakugo’s expulsion, All Might’s resignation, and the Ministry of Education to close U.A.
filled the sky.
Riot police had set up barricades, but the crowd’s rage could not be quelled.
A fortress once considered impregnable was now shaking and on the verge of collapse – all because of a single, perfectly placed spark.
…
At the same time, in Class 1-A’s homeroom.
No lights were on.
The only illumination came from the flashing police and media vehicle lights outside the school gates.
Some students who couldn’t return home due to the surrounding protesters had been temporarily evacuated into the classroom.
Distant chants echoed against the soundproof walls like thunder rumbling in a storm ready to devour everything.
Kirishima Eijiro slumped over his desk, hands roughly messing up his bright red hair.
“Damn it… How did things end up like this?” he muttered, his voice filled with utter disillusionment.
“Bakugo… I knew he was rough.
I knew he had a short temper.
But telling someone to jump off a roof and die?
I can’t… I just can’t accept that.”
Uraraka Ochako hugged her arms tightly, her whole body trembling.
Her usually round, bright eyes were now filled with tears.
“When I saw that video earlier… I was scared of him.
Really scared.
Everything feels so terrifying right now…”
Todoroki Shoto sat silently in the corner, his cold gaze fixed on the window.
“To be honest, I always felt his nature was truly brutal, not just hot-tempered.
I wonder where this will lead…”
Iida Tenya stood at the teacher’s podium, but he lacked his usual commanding presence.
His glasses reflected the red and blue flashing lights from outside.
He turned to Midoriya Izuku, who was curled up in the back row.
“Midoriya-kun,” Iida said, his voice low.
The entire class held its breath.
All eyes turned toward the green-haired boy.
They weren’t stupid.
Even though the victim’s face had been blurred in Gentle Criminal’s video, that scrawny figure, messy hair, and the explosions from Bakugo’s hand… everything was too obvious.
Moreover, they suddenly remembered the first days of school.
They remembered the practical training battle where Bakugo had furiously targeted Izuku with irrational hatred.
And above all, they remembered what Onodera Ryuga had said in the hospital, and the contempt he had always shown toward Bakugo from day one.
Ryuga had known everything.
He had tried to warn them and protect Izuku, but no one had understood.
“Izuku…” Uraraka walked over and gently placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder.
“The person in that video… was you, right?
You’re the one Bakugo told to…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence.
Sobs choked her throat.
Izuku slowly raised his head.
His eyes were swollen and bloodshot.
Tears rolled endlessly down his freckled cheeks.
“Yes,” Izuku whispered, his voice weak and shattered.
“Since middle school… Kacchan has always been like that.
Back then I didn’t have a Quirk… I was useless… so he…”
“No one has the right to do that to you!” Kirishima slammed his fist on the desk and stood up, eyes blazing with rage.
“Whether you awakened your Quirk early or late, Midoriya, you’re the bravest person I know!
What Bakugo did wasn’t manly.
It was garbage!”
“Midoriya,” Iida stepped forward and bowed deeply at a perfect 90 degrees.
“As class representative, I apologize for not noticing your suffering sooner.
We cheered for Bakugo without knowing he had been trampling on your pain.”
“We’ll always be here for you, Deku.” Uraraka hugged Izuku tightly, bursting into loud sobs.
Izuku sat there, wrapped in the arms of his true friends.
But deep in his eyes, beyond the emotion, there was an indescribable, profound sadness.
He looked out at the night sky through the window.
Yes, Kacchan had done terrible things.
He had hurt him deeply.
Izuku thought, clenching the hem of his pants.
But… it shouldn’t have gone this far.
His career, his dream of becoming a hero who surpasses All Might… everything had been completely crushed.
He had lost it all in a single night.
Another tear fell.
Izuku didn’t know whether he was crying because the humiliations of his past had finally been acknowledged, or because of the cruel reality crushing his childhood friend.
…
The night wind carried a chilly mist, blowing fiercely across the concrete rooftop of a dilapidated apartment complex on the city outskirts.
Far below, Musutafu’s neon lights still shone brilliantly as always.
But if one looked carefully, police cars with flashing lights could be seen converging toward the city center, where U.A.
was enduring the greatest storm in its history.
I sat on the edge of the rooftop, legs dangling freely over the void.
The wind whipped my black hair, bringing a false sense of freedom.
The leather choker remained snug around my neck, hiding the vivid red bite marks, but the suffocating pressure of the day had completely dissipated.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
Gentle Criminal had performed far better than I expected – almost *too* well, to the point everything had spiraled out of control.
If I didn’t handle the aftermath carefully, this world might soon gain another villain.
Possibly even one with a technique called “Allahu Akbar” powerful enough to blow up an entire neighborhood.
“Ryuu-kun~”
A sweet, drawn-out voice like a pampered cat’s meow came from behind.
Himiko Toga, wearing one of my oversized sweaters that covered her shorts, skipped over cheerfully.
In her hands were two large, vibrant pomegranates.
“Want some?
I just went ‘shopping’ at the convenience store down the street!” Himiko giggled, plopping down beside me.
The way she emphasized “shopping” made it clear that some unfortunate store clerk was probably unconscious behind the counter.
I took one.
The pomegranate’s skin was rough and ice-cold.
“Pomegranate?
It’s out of season, yet they still have them.” I muttered, using my thumb to forcefully peel the skin.
Crack.
The shell split open, revealing clusters of deep red, plump arils packed tightly together like coagulated drops of blood.
Pomegranate juice spilled out, staining my fingers dark red and sticky.
Legend said Persephone ate pomegranate seeds in the Underworld, dooming herself to never truly leave.
Himiko and I were willingly chewing and swallowing these seeds, as if to affirm that we had already sunk too deep into hell.
“Tasty?” Himiko popped a few arils into her mouth, chewing noisily.
The fresh red juice stained the corners of her lips, making her look as if she had just devoured something alive.
“Sweet,” I replied flatly, putting some arils in my mouth.
“But a little bitter.”
Himiko swung her bare legs gently.
Her pale golden eyes followed the rushing car lights on the distant highway.
“U.A.
was really noisy today, huh,” she suddenly said, a hint of delight in her tone.
“I watched the news.
That explosion guy with the blond hair… his face when he was exposed was hilarious.
It was your work, right, Ryuu-kun?”
I neither confirmed nor denied it.
I simply finished chewing the arils in my mouth and swallowed.
“Just a little lesson,” I said, my eyes turning cold.
“He deserved it, even if things escalated a bit more than expected.”
Himiko tilted her head and leaned fully against my shoulder.
The sweet scent of her body wash mixed with the faint smell of blood and wildflowers wafted into my nose.
“So… you did it for that green-haired kid?” Himiko’s voice suddenly dropped, becoming colder and devoid of playfulness.
“For Izuku?”
I paused for a second.
The hand peeling the pomegranate tightened slightly.
“Partly,” I answered calmly, not wanting to lie and provoke her.
“But mostly for personal reasons.
I just really hate that bastard Bakugo.”
Himiko stayed silent for a moment, then poked my cheek.
“You really are a terrible person, Ryuu-kun.” She smiled faintly.
“You protect him by using someone else’s hand to destroy his bully, then stand far away pretending you had nothing to do with it.
You manipulate everyone – including me.”
I turned to look at her.
My fingers, stained with fresh red pomegranate juice, gently touched her thin cheek, brushing aside the ash-blonde bangs covering her forehead.
“Do you hate me for that?” I asked, my voice low and hoarse in the night wind.
“No.” Himiko rubbed her cheek against my palm like a kitten craving warmth.
“I love you.
Because you’re just as terrible as I am.
We’re both awful in our own ways, Ryuu-kun.”
I gazed deeply into her eyes.
Behind the madness, behind the bloodlust, was an extremely lonely figure.
Our dark empathy, like toxic glue, bound these two rotten souls together.
“Himiko.” I called her name, suddenly changing the subject.
“Your family… are they doing well?”
Himiko’s chewing motion froze instantly.
The surrounding temperature seemed to drop several degrees.
Her pale golden eyes widened, pupils contracting into vertical slits like a snake’s.
The comfortable atmosphere was instantly replaced by hatred, disgust, and a thick, suffocating killing intent.
“Why are you bringing them up?” Her voice was ice-cold, completely devoid of warmth.
“Just remembered suddenly.” I said calmly, my thumb still gently stroking her cheek.
“The people who abandoned you.
The ones who forced you to ‘act normal’ instead of teaching you how to live with your Quirk.
Do you want to take revenge on them the way I did with that explosive bastard?”
Himiko stared at me.
The killing intent in her eyes fluctuated violently.
I could feel the bloodlust surging through her veins.
If it had been anyone else, their throat would have been slit the moment they touched that wound.
The silence stretched on as if endless.
The wind whistled past our ears, carrying distant police sirens.
Then, suddenly, the killing intent vanished.
Himiko lowered her eyelids, hiding her sharp gaze.
She reached out, wrapped her arms around my waist, and buried her face in the crook of my neck.
Her hot breath brushed against the leather of the choker.
“No need,” she whispered, her voice fragile but resolute.
“Why?”
Himiko lifted her head and pressed her lips – stained with bright red pomegranate juice – against mine.
A fleeting kiss, carrying the tartness of the peel and the sickening sweetness of twisted love.
“Because this is already my family.”
She smiled – the most serene smile I had ever seen from her since bringing her to this apartment.
“Those people… that place… they’re no longer home.
My home is here.
With you.
As long as you let me drink your blood, as long as you let me love you… I don’t care if they live or die.”
My heart skipped a beat.
Not from emotion, but from the immense satisfaction of someone who had just completed the most perfect psychological painting.
That answer was more than enough.
I had succeeded.
From using my twin brother’s appearance to break down her defenses, using blood to intoxicate her, using confinement and abuse to create Stockholm Syndrome, and now…
The invisible chains had tightly bound Toga Himiko’s soul to me.
She no longer belonged to the League of Villains in the future.
She was mine.
Completely and utterly.
I wrapped my arms around her slender back, fingers threading through her messy hair as I gently stroked her head.
“Yeah.
This is your home now.” I whispered, my gaze drifting over her shoulder toward the horizon glowing with city lights.
“Good girl.”