The lazy afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the classroom floor.
At the podium, Shota Aizawa flipped through the attendance book with his usual tired, unreadable stare. It was a quiet, peaceful afternoon like any other. At least, until that moment.
Tap—
A faint vibration broke the stillness. Face down on the podium, Aizawa’s phone trembled soundlessly.
His gaze hardened at once. Taking a slow breath, he checked the caller ID and raised the phone to his ear without hesitation. His movements were as sluggish as ever, but the eye beneath his messy hair had already gone sharp.
"...What is it."
A short, heavy silence hung over the line.
"...Say that again."
For a brief moment, Aizawa shut his visible eye, then opened it again. The line of his jaw tightened.
"...Understood. I'm on my way."
Click—
The call ended, and the classroom seemed to freeze.
Without another glance at the attendance book or the chalkboard, he stepped away from the podium.
"Self-study."
There was no warmth in his voice. The students exchanged uneasy looks. Just as one of them started to speak, Aizawa raised a hand—a small motion, but sharp enough to stop the room cold.
"Don't ask questions. If anyone asks for me, tell them it's an emergency."
His voice stayed low, but every word cut through the room.
Bang—
The back door slammed shut, and the sound of his hurried footsteps faded quickly down the hall.
The soft music in the cafe had faded into the background. It was as if the room itself had stepped back, leaving only the four of them and the weight pressing down on their chests. Kendo, Nejire, Pony, and Komori sat in silence, as if time had stalled.
The four girls exchanged uneasy glances. In each other’s trembling eyes, they saw the truth hidden behind Mirko’s strength—the agonizing pain she had carried all alone. She had fought like a blazing fire, fallen hard, and risen again even fiercer than before, never once allowing herself a moment of weakness.
Nejire drew a shaky breath. She clasped her trembling hands to her chest, trying to steady her racing heart.
"...I..." she whispered, her voice fragile. "...I still want to protect Mirko."
Her voice was quiet, but her resolve did not waver.
"I may not be able to heal all the wounds she carries... but I still want to stay by her side. I want to help her... even if it's only a little."
Pony gave a small, silent nod. The bright smile that usually lit her face was gone, replaced by a deeper, calmer determination. Komori managed a faint smile too, though tears trembled on her lashes. Without a word, Kendo reached out and wrapped her hand around Nejire’s trembling ones. In her deep teal eyes, regret had given way to firm solidarity. No one said anything else, but the vow they shared was unmistakably clear.
Right at that moment—
Bzzzt—
A sharp buzz cut through the silence from Kendo’s pocket. She quickly pulled out her phone, and a brief flash of relief crossed her face when she saw the screen.
"It's Shiozaki. The counseling must be over. Hello? Yeah, we're at a cafe nearby. Is Mirko—"
She never finished the sentence.
"What?!"
Kendo let out a choked gasp. Her eyes flew wide, and she went still, lips parted.
The room froze at her reaction. Nejire, Pony, and Komori all stared at her in alarm. Kendo forced herself to stay quiet and listen to the rest of the call. By the time it ended, her face had gone rigid, though she somehow kept her voice steady.
"...Got it. I'll wait here."
The call disconnected.
"W-What... happened?" Pony asked cautiously in halting Japanese.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Kendo let out a deep breath, as if she could no longer keep it hidden. Enlarging her hands with her Quirk, she put up a barrier to block out any sound. When she finally spoke, her voice was heavy.
"...Mirko is missing."
Screech—!
"'Shroom! M-Missing?!" Komori shoved her chair back in shock.
Kendo forced herself to say the rest. "There's something I haven't told you all. Mirko has been... suffering from severe hallucinations caused by Shigaraki's cells... activated by Rewind."
Nejire froze as if she'd been struck. Her royal blue eyes locked onto Kendo.
"Shigaraki's... cells... activated...?!"
The moment that horrific name hit her, both of her arms fell limp onto the table.
The edges of her vision twisted and blurred. The cafe around her drained of color, swallowed by a blinding white flash and the deafening roar of a storm.
KABOOOM—!
It wasn't just a sound. She felt it in her bones.
An ashen sky. The crumbling U.A. flying fortress. Torn steel plates. Debris drifting through the air like ash.
At the center of that hell—Bakugo was falling.
Shigaraki’s grotesque mass of flesh had pierced his chest, and that single, horrific instant stretched into forever. Blood and torn flesh scattered into the void, raining down through the storm.
"...Ah... Ahh—"
Nejire’s lips trembled as a scream rose in her throat.
To her left, someone was reaching out and screaming. Lemillion.
He hurled himself toward Bakugo, throwing everything he had into that desperate reach, but he couldn't make it. His scream tore through the air, unanswered.
And then came Shigaraki’s laughter.
Nejire’s heart lurched.
"...Mirko is... with that...that..."
Her lips barely moved. The words slipped out in fragments.
As the strength drained from her arms and her body started to fold, Komori and Pony lunged to catch her.
"'Shroom! Nejire!"
"Are you okay?!"
Nejire dragged in a ragged breath and forced her trembling gaze back to the present.
"...Shiga...raki... Mir...ko..."
Her voice broke into a ragged sob.
Right at that moment—
SKREEEECH—!!
At the ear-splitting screech of tires, Nejire’s gaze snapped toward the window. Out on the street, a black sedan slammed to a stop, kicking up a cloud of dust across the asphalt. Before the car had even fully stopped, both doors flew open.
Hawks was the first one out. Right behind him, Shiozaki nearly stumbled in her haste, her tied-back vines whipping wildly with the movement. In the corner of the parking lot, Kuroiro, who had been lazily crushing out a cigarette, stopped mid-step. Hawks swept into view like a disaster.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
"H-Hawks, sir? Shiozaki too...? What on earth—"
He got no further. Shiozaki grabbed his arm at once.
"Kuroiro, you have to come with us. There's no time—we need to move now."
Still completely lost, he stumbled toward the stairs as she pulled him along.
"H-Hey—what the hell is going on?!"
Hawks was already charging up the stairs to the second floor. His footsteps hammered against the stairwell, echoing through the cafe.
The door burst open. Nejire, Kendo, Pony, and Komori all looked up at once.
Hawks shut the door behind him, letting out a short, ragged breath before sweeping the room with a sharp gaze.
"Mirko is in danger. She completely broke down during counseling," Hawks said, his voice low. "She lost her grip on reality and ran straight into the forest..."
Before he could finish, Nejire stepped forward. Her pupils shook.
"Wait... Mirko has been seeing Shigaraki—hearing his voice—is... is that true?"
Hawks didn't look away. Meeting Nejire’s unsteady gaze, he gave a slow, grim nod.
"...It's true."
All the color drained from Nejire’s face. The usual softness vanished from her voice.
"Why didn't you tell us?!"
Hawks closed his eyes briefly, as if bracing himself, then opened them again.
"...At first, even we weren't sure. And by the time we confirmed it... Aizawa, Best Jeanist, Mirko, and I agreed to keep it strictly classified."
Nejire took another shaky step forward. Her eyes were wide with panic.
"We have to find Mirko right now. Start a public search—"
"We can't do that." Hawks cut her off, his voice firm. "Eri could become a target."
"I know how important Eri's safety is!"
Nejire bit down hard on her lower lip. Her royal blue eyes flashed with desperation. "Mirko is out there with that monster right now!"
Her voice nearly broke into a scream. Before anyone could respond, Shiozaki stepped forward quietly.
"That is... exactly why we can't make any reckless moves."
Her voice was thin and trembling, but the fear in it was held together by a heavy sense of responsibility.
"What we're dealing with isn't an ordinary hallucination. These are Shigaraki's cells... remnants left behind by the vessel of All For One."
She drew a long, shaky breath.
"And Mirko confessed... that she hears her comrades cursing her."
Nejire’s face twisted in devastation. In that instant, she understood why Mirko had avoided seeing her.
"If we send out a large search party too quickly... and she mistakes us for hallucinations she has to fight..."
Shiozaki forced out the rest in little more than a whisper.
"...She might never come back."
A crushing silence filled the room.
Hawks pinched the bridge of his nose, let out a rough breath, and ran a hand through his hair.
"First... I've already contacted the heroes who fought alongside Mirko in the 'Coffin in the Sky' battle."
"Aizawa is on his way here. Monoma is searching the north with Kamui Woods and Tokage. Tamaki's covering the eastern valley."
Nejire’s breath caught. "...Tamaki..."
Hawks nodded. "Yeah. The second he heard, he moved."
His voice turned grim again.
"But Deku's in Kyushu, Lemillion's in Hokkaido, and Bakugo's overseas. And of all times, Jeanist isn't picking up. Damn it."
Silence settled over the room again. Hawks lowered his eyes for a moment, mapping out the terrain in his head, then looked up.
"The west leads straight to the city center. If she'd gone that way, someone would've seen her by now."
At that moment, Nejire stepped forward without hesitation.
"I know the southern route well. I've done support missions there."
Hawks looked between Nejire and Pony.
"Good. Nejire and Pony will cover the southern sector from the air. I'll take the ground with Aizawa once he gets here."
Pony bit her lip, then nodded quickly.
Shiozaki placed a hand over her chest and spoke with quiet resolve.
"I'll start near the cathedral. The terrain there is difficult—dense forest, narrow ridges. My vines will make the search easier."
Hawks turned to the others at once.
"Kendo. Komori. Kuroiro. You three back up Shiozaki. Traces, movement, sounds—if you notice anything at all, report it immediately."
Kendo nodded calmly. Komori, visibly tense, answered at once. "Y-Yes, sir!"
Lastly—Kuroiro.
He had only come to walk Komori to the cafe. All he knew was that Mirko had been receiving counseling. He had no idea what had really happened, or how deep this situation ran. Feeling the weight of the moment at last, he bit his lip and silently regretted not coming inside with her sooner.
"...Haa."
He stared into space for a moment, then let out a hollow scoff.
"Another twist in the dark... How fitting."
For all his usual dark theatrics, Kuroiro was already moving, taking his place at Komori’s side.
Hawks drew in a sharp breath and swept his gaze across the room.
"...One last thing. In the worst-case scenario..."
His eyes hardened. Everyone turned to him.
"Mirko could completely lose her sense of self—and mutate into something like Shigaraki."
Silence hit the room.
Nejire stopped breathing. Kendo’s fingers went rigid against the table. Komori clutched her chest, and Pony’s lips trembled. Shiozaki squeezed her eyes shut like a prayer, while Kuroiro went pale, unable to say a word.
Hawks stepped forward.
"...But—" His gaze was hard as steel. "I won't let that kind of crap happen."
Nejire bit down hard on her lip. A moment later, her wavering gaze steadied.
"...Mirko has... fought alone for far too long."
Her voice was low, but it carried through the room.
"For all that time... she has always fought for us."
Something in the room shifted. In everyone's mind flashed the same image: the back of a great hero who, even as her limbs were torn away, never once turned from the enemy, but kept charging forward through blood to protect the others.
Nejire raised her head. A new fire burned in her royal blue eyes.
"That's why—"
Her fists tightened. She was no longer trembling.
"Now it's our turn to protect her."
A quiet resolve passed through the room, drawing them together as one.
A family restaurant near the airport. From the outside, it looked ordinary, but inside, it had been carefully designed for privacy. It was a quiet, unofficial meeting place for heroes, discreetly arranged through the HPSC.
As Best Jeanist stepped inside, the staff recognized him at once and guided him to a private room at the back.
The door slid open. Mt. Lady was already there.
"Jeanist! Over here."
She wore her usual bright expression.
Jeanist gave a slight bow before turning toward the corner. Sitting there was a man with a hat pulled low over his eyes. But even before he saw the face clearly, that sharp, silent presence could only belong to one person.
The man slowly rose from his seat, fingers brushing the brim of his hat.
Swish—
He took it off.
The soft light caught the faint scars that still remained from his recovery. But those eyes—steady, focused, and utterly calm—were unmistakably Edgeshot’s.
Jeanist’s breath caught for a moment, his usual composure faltering just slightly.
"...Edgeshot."
Mt. Lady drew in a breath, then broke into a smile full of relief.
"You're really back... You really are."
Edgeshot bowed his head slightly.
"It has been a while. Both of you."
When he raised his head again, a faint smile touched his lips.
"...The treatment is finally complete. There will be an official announcement soon."
Mt. Lady covered her mouth with both hands, unable to hide her joy.
"Really...? You're really returning to active duty?"
Edgeshot nodded.
"Yeah. Soon... The Lurkers will stand together once again."
Her eyes lit up.
"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear that."
Jeanist let out a quiet breath as well, a rare warmth showing in his expression.
"...You've been through so much, Shinya."
One of Edgeshot’s brows twitched, and then he let out a short laugh.
"It's certainly been a while since anyone called me that."
He ran a hand through his silver hair and leaned lightly back against his chair.
"Actually... there's a reason I returned quietly this time."
His voice remained soft and calm.
Both Mt. Lady and Jeanist looked up at him. Edgeshot’s usually sharp eyes had softened.
"There were many people I wanted to see. The other Lurkers, Tsunagu senpai..." His voice trailed off for a moment before he finally said, quietly and plainly, "And—Mirko."
The mood in the room shifted.
"I heard Mirko had completed her return mission," Edgeshot said. "So I called her. But... her voice... she sounded completely exhausted. That's why I wanted to see her for myself."
Mt. Lady leaned back slightly in her chair and let out a small sigh.
"I've tried calling her a few times lately, but she hasn't picked up once." Concern flickered across her face as she went on. "According to Hawks, she came down with a really bad case of the flu and hasn't been able to answer her phone much."
At that, Jeanist’s eyes flickered ever so slightly. He alone knew the truth, and neither of the others noticed.
"If she saw my face—" Edgeshot lifted both hands over his head, mimicking rabbit ears. "Those long ears of hers would perk right up."
The joke was so unexpectedly sweet that a warm laugh passed through the room.
"By the way... when is Kamui getting here?"
Mt. Lady shrugged.
"He's out on a support mission in some mountain village with Phantom Thief and Lizardy. The wood hero doing wood hero things, as usual. He probably won't make it until evening."
Edgeshot raised an eyebrow. "When the two of you finally get married, I'll officiate the wedding. You should start preparing."
Mt. Lady’s face flushed bright red, and she planted both hands on her hips.
"W-We are not at that stage yet! I-I still have way too much work to do, okay—"
Right at that moment—
Bzzzt—
Jeanist’s phone vibrated. A short, sharp sound. The name "Hawks" lit up on the screen.
Jeanist answered with a small smile, more relaxed than he had been in a while.
"Ah, Chairman. As it happens, we have a very welcome guest here today. When you hear who—"
But in the very next second, at Hawks’s first words through the receiver, Jeanist’s expression changed completely.
"...What... did you just say."
The warmth vanished from the room at once. Edgeshot and Mt. Lady stared at him, their expressions hardening in silence.
[Jaku Hospital Ruins]
Even the wind and dust seemed to hold still. A deep, heavy silence lay over the ruins. Dirt, blood, and iron dust thickened the air with a foul metallic stench.
In the middle of the wreckage, Mirko remained on her knees, barely holding herself upright. The bitter burn of stomach acid and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Her red eyes burned. Though Rewind had restored her arms to perfection, phantom pain still tore through them, and her mind felt scraped hollow.
Mirko’s chest spasmed. Every breath felt as if it were burning her lungs away. Her very existence as a survivor felt like an unforgivable sin.
Shigaraki looked down at her coldly. Each time the wind stirred his colorless hair, iron dust skittered across the shattered floor. In the blood-stained air, the low hum of the wind sounded almost like a warning.
"Isn't it unfair?"
His voice slithered through the cold air and into her ears like a snake.
"You're the only one suffering. All the other heroes have found their own happiness."
A thin, grotesque smile spread across his lips.
"Fulfilling their dreams. Finding love. Basking in glory and laughing."
The phantom leaned closer, his voice dropping to a sickeningly sweet whisper.
"All while forgetting their dead comrades."
Mirko kept her head bowed. She didn’t even have the strength to answer. The phantom only smiled wider.
"Even the League found a way to live on. Spinner is writing. Compress is reading..."
Then he twisted the knife.
"And Garaki... rotting comfortably in his cell."
That name hit her like a bolt of lightning.
The underground hell of Jaku Hospital.
The cold capsules where silent bodies were sealed away.
The corridors reeking of blood.
The endless modification surgeries—the hell where flesh was torn and screams split the air.
The old man's finger, pressing a single button and unleashing five High-Ends at once.
—Kyudai Garaki.
All her memories collapsed into a single, blazing point. It scraped against her skull, wrung out her chest, and made her blood boil.
"...Garaki."
The name slipped slowly past her lips—
Every breath, every nerve, every sound within her sharpened, narrowing toward a single point.
Vengeance.
The only thing left in her chest.
The only thing that could drag her back to her feet.
Proof that she was still alive.
Her red eyes burned through the darkness of the ruins, blazing with ferocious intensity.