Monday morning.
The central station platform in downtown Musutafu was loud and teeming with people.
The loudspeaker announcements for the high-speed train schedules blended with the hurried footsteps of office workers.
Yet in one corner of the waiting area, the atmosphere was so thick and suffocating that passersby instinctively took a detour to avoid it.
Class 1-A was gathered there, preparing for the week of internships at professional hero agencies.
Aizawa-sensei stood with his arms crossed in front of us, his dark-circled eyes carrying their usual sharp, cold edge.
He began going over the basic rules: always keep your hero costume case with you, absolutely do not wear your costume in public unless you are on duty, do not lose it, and most importantly, maintain proper conduct.
The words of good luck were delivered curtly, dryly, in true Aizawa Shota fashion.
I leaned against a marble pillar a short distance away, coolly observing each face in the class.
They had split into small groups while waiting for their trains, some excited, some anxious.
But hanging over all of it was an awkwardness they could not hide.
And the epicenter of that awkwardness was none other than Bakugo Katsuki.
He stood at the edge of the group, both hands shoved deep into his pockets, lips pressed into a thin, tight line.
Those blazing red eyes that usually burned with arrogant fire were now shot through with bloodshot streaks of restraint and hatred, glaring down at the tips of his shoes as if he wanted to incinerate the entire world.
Yes, that bastard was still allowed to do his internship.
After Gentle Criminal dropped that media bomb that wrecked everything, U.A.
faced the biggest crisis in its history.
But never underestimate Principal Nezu’s ability to “whitewash” and manage a crisis.
With a series of political arrangements, a nationally broadcast public apology press conference, and most importantly, a private settlement brokered in the shadows between the Bakugo and Midoriya families, that was all it took for U.A.
to secure his enrollment.
Naturally, given the Midoriya family’s soft-hearted nature, they accepted the apology.
How do I know?
Obviously, I was called in as a mediator between the two of them.
It is just that Izuku’s mother, besides looking at me with very strange eyes, also seemed to “go along outwardly while disagreeing inwardly.”
However, Bakugo’s punishment was far from light.
His championship title was stripped, he was placed under strict probation, and this internship week was his “trial sentence.” He was dispatched to Best Jeanist’s agency.
This choice was not to teach him how to fight, but so that Best Jeanist, a man renowned for elegance and iron discipline, could mold and forcibly reshape his insolent attitude.
If he judged Bakugo unfit to continue his studies, U.A.’s gates would slam shut on him forever.
He knows this.
Everyone in class knows this.
So right now, that rabid dog is no different from a muzzled beast, growling deep in his throat but not daring to bite recklessly.
Serves him right.
I shifted my gaze away from Bakugo, turning toward another corner, the place that could be considered the sole source of light in this gloomy atmosphere.
Midoriya Izuku’s group.
I should have stuck closer to him, but for this internship week, the original script calls for Gran Torino to forge Izuku, and I don’t want to interfere with his One For All “upgrade” process.
Besides, he was busy…
acting in a romance drama.
Izuku was standing next to Ochako.
And the atmosphere between those two…
oh, I swear to God, it was so pink and sweet it gave me diabetes.
“U-Um…
is your bag heavy, Uraraka-san?
I-I’ll carry it for you?” Izuku stammered, his face bright red as he scratched his messy bird’s-nest hair.
“N-No worries, Deku-kun!
I can manage!
Save your strength for training!” Uraraka waved her hands wildly, her cheeks tinged pink, her eyes darting everywhere to avoid looking directly into his.
And then, as both reached for a water bottle at the same time, their fingers accidentally touched.
Both jolted back a full meter, mouths stuttering frantic apologies, faces reddening like overripe tomatoes.
Watching them treat each other like that, they were no different from two idiots in the early, tentative throes of a crush, even though I would bet none of them had dared to actually confess yet.
It was not just me; those standing nearby had noticed too.
“Hey…” Kaminari Denki nudged Mineta Minoru in the ribs and whispered.
“Those two…
since when have they been sneaking around dating?
The vibe is totally like newlyweds.”
Mineta could not keep his composure.
That depraved dwarf was biting down on his handkerchief, tears and snot smeared all over his face, his eyes streaked with bloodshot veins of jealousy.
“Damn it!!
Midoriya!!
You damn nerd!!
Why does he get to have the springtime of youth while I’m still suffering in loneliness?!
Uraraka-san!!
Ahhh!!”
Youth, indeed.
Well, let them enjoy it, because these peaceful days are about to come to an end.
Just as I was about to look away, my gaze accidentally met Izuku’s.
He gave a small start, then offered me an awkward but utterly sincere smile.
I only gave a slight nod in return, a polite acknowledgment.
I turned to look at the person standing beside Izuku.
Ida Tenya.
“We’ll always be here if you need to talk,” Izuku was saying seriously to Tenya.
“Any time, Ida-kun.
We’re friends, so let us share your burden.”
Tenya smiled, adjusting his glasses.
“Thank you both.
I will keep that in mind.
Let’s all do our best during this internship week.”
A perfect smile.
A textbook response from a model class president.
Everything seemed so natural, which put Izuku and Uraraka completely at ease.
But they did not fool me.
From the perspective of someone steeped in criminal psychology and the distortions of human nature, I could see right through that mask.
Tenya’s eyes…
they were dead.
Behind that normally steadfast blue gaze lay a pitch-black abyss, simmering with a fury of absolute resentment that he was using every ounce of effort to conceal.
It was not hard to understand.
The Hero Killer, Stain, had butchered his older brother Ingenium, turning a proud hero into a cripple paralyzed from the waist down, forced to abandon his career forever.
For someone who worshiped his brother like a religion, that collapse was a brutal psychological blow that struck directly at Tenya’s value system.
And I knew exactly what Tenya was planning.
He chose his internship agency in Hosu, the place where Stain had just struck.
He was not going there to learn.
He was going there for revenge.
The train whistle pierced through my train of thought.
“The train bound for Hosu is now ready for departure.
Passengers, please board.”
I had also chosen my internship in Hosu.
Not because I admired any hero there or simply wanted to take it easy, but because I needed a stage of chaos to collect more power, and more importantly, to complete my own plan.
…
The Shinkansen bullet train sped away, leaving the bustling urban district behind.
I sat in a double seat, chin propped on my hand, watching the scenery blur past the window in streaks of color.
The inside of the car was rather quiet.
Only Tenya and I were U.A.
students on this train.
Sensing the heavy atmosphere enveloping both of us, Tenya spoke up first.
Perhaps he was trying to swallow down his real feelings so I would not probe deeper, or maybe he was testing my reason for choosing Hosu, a coincidence far too suspicious.
“Onodera-kun…” he began, his voice somewhat hesitant after a long silence.
“What do you think about interning with professional heroes?”
I still did not turn my head, my eyes fixed on the glass window where a half-reflection of my own indifferent face stared back.
“Same as everyone else,” I answered flatly.
“A chance to learn.
To see how this hero world truly operates behind all the media glamour.”
A short silence lingered again.
I could hear Tenya exhale sharply, as if struggling with himself.
“Do you think…
being a hero sometimes means having to carry out justice against those who cannot be forgiven?”
He was probing my moral limits.
With a head and heart burning like hot coals, it was hardly surprising he was agitated enough to voice his true thoughts.
I slowly turned my head, looking straight into the eyes hidden behind Tenya’s prescription glasses.
No beating around the bush.
No comfort.
I struck directly at the core.
“You’re thinking about the guy who attacked your brother, aren’t you?”
Tenya’s body trembled slightly.
His shoulders went rigid.
He did not deny it, which surprised me a little.
Perhaps the pressure had grown too immense for him to bother acting in front of someone as blunt as me anymore.
“Yes.” Tenya clenched the fist resting on his lap, his voice shaking with restraint.
“That man…
he hurt Tensei.
I…
I can’t just sit here and watch him roam free outside the law.”
“Personal revenge, then?” I concluded coldly, stripping away every pretty phrase he was trying to dress it up in.
Tenya did not answer, but the white knuckles of his fingers said everything.
He was thrashing on the boundary between a Hero and an Avenger.
“Ida.” I spoke, my voice dropping low and carrying the chill of a superior lecturing.
“Killing one criminal won’t reduce their numbers.
If you let your emotions drive your actions, you’ll only hobble yourself with fatal mistakes.
And if you screw things up because of that foolish emotion, you won’t be the only one to pay the price.
Your friends, your family, and the honor of the name Ingenium that your brother worked so hard to build…
all of it will be buried alongside that impulsive, righteous act of yours.”
Tenya hung his head.
Every word of mine was like a hammer blow to his reason.
He was biting his lip, probably blaming himself for letting hatred override the hero ideals his family had instilled.
But that was only the prelude.
I was not here to play the school counselor and guide him back to the righteous path.
I was here to shatter that obsolete moral value system and reshape it the way I wanted.
“…However, that’s all just rotten hypocrisy.”
Tenya’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock.
I leaned forward, closing the distance between us.
My pitch-black eyes bored deep into his soul.
“Now, let me put it this way.
You know how politicians talk, right?
Everything they do, no matter how much they paint it as for the people and by the people, always has a tinge of personal color.
No one sticks their nose into someone else’s business for nothing.
If you want revenge that badly, you’ll surely find a justification.
No need to agonize over it.”
The air in the train car seemed to thin out.
The atmosphere became dense and stifling.
Tenya glared at me, his lips trembling.
In his gaze was a complex mix of shock, confusion, and a flicker of light that sparked as his most secret thoughts were brutally validated by me.
He had no idea what I was really thinking, but my words had struck directly at the enormous mass of contradictions tearing his chest apart.
“I…
I did not expect you to say something like that, Onodera-kun.” Tenya spoke, his voice faltering but then immediately turning sharp, a weak attempt to cling to his own ideals.
“Forgive me for being blunt.
You are insulting Tensei, Onodera!
My brother never taught me to use deceitful reasoning to achieve justice!
The law is the boundary that keeps humans from becoming beasts!”
“This world doesn’t run on dreams and pink fairytales like the tooth fairy or Santa Claus, Tenya.” I leaned back in my seat, folding my arms across my chest, my eyes once again turning to the window where the high-rises of Hosu City had begun to appear in the distance.
“Every action has its price.
You want true ‘Justice’?
You’ll have to accept striding along the blurred line between good and evil, between black and white.
Your hands will have to be stained so that others can stay clean.
You must be ready to shoulder every consequence, every infamy, and even society’s rejection.”
I turned my face back and offered a faint smile, the smile of a devil presenting a lucrative contract.
“No need to worry about me blabbing.
This will be our little secret.
Just go and do whatever you believe is right against the one who destroyed your family.
Don’t worry, I’ll help you fulfill your deep dark fantasy1 and make sure you won’t die stupidly under his blade.
In return…”
I drawled, my eyes narrowing with calculation.
“…I will need you to help me with something else at another time.
Something very big.”
The steady rumbling of the train echoed on, merging with the tension simmering in silence.
Tenya did not object anymore.
He just sat there, his breathing somewhat ragged, processing the massive amount of information and the psychological trap I had just laid.
He no longer saw killing Stain as “personal revenge.” Through my manipulation, he had legitimized it into an “act for justice,” a noble sacrifice that transcended the feebleness of the law.
Every chess piece was being arranged perfectly.
Van Darkholme, in an interview (IDK where is it)