_____[POV: Third person]_____
The air was calm that morning in Chūgoku, the sky clear and the sun's rays casting a soft glow over the building facades and the city's scorching asphalt. People hurried by, children laughed as they played in the parks, and the elderly enjoyed the gentle breeze… until everything was swallowed by the deafening sound of an explosion.
SFX: BOOM!
Glass shattered and dust flew as a bank's facade was blown apart. Four masked figures dashed out, laughing loudly, carrying bags stuffed with cash. The crowd screamed in panic. The villains leaped into a dark car parked in front of the bank—the engine roared, and within seconds, they were speeding through the city's narrow streets.
"Central unit, we have fleeing robbers from OTK Bank!" shouted the frantic voice of an officer over the radio.
Patrol cars appeared on the road, sirens wailing like hungry dogs, kicking off a chase through the city's winding streets. The villains' car swerved through intersections, scraping against poles and trash cans, knocking over everything in its path. One of them even used his Quirk to unleash a sonic scream, flipping the police cars like dominoes.
"Now this is the life, HAHAHA!" The driver looked back, laughing loudly—and didn't see the truck turning the corner. The metallic crunch of the collision echoed through the streets.
SFX: CRASH!
The villains' car tumbled down the road like a toy before skidding to a stop on its side, scraping against the asphalt and sending sparks flying. The nearby crowd rushed over, surrounding the wreckage with phones already in hand. The villains, dazed but alive, staggered out of the car.
One of them, nervous, grabbed a boy watching the scene and yanked him by the hair, pressing his bladed arm against the child's neck. The others stared in shock.
"What the hell are you doing, idiot?"
"He's our ticket out! When the hero shows up, he'll think twice!"
That's when a voice rang out, firm and slightly dramatic:
"Justice CRASH!!"
A flying bicycle shot through the air like an improvised meteor and slammed into the villain's back, sending him stumbling forward with a sharp cry. The boy broke free and ran to his mother on the other side of the street.
The crowd, now alert, widened their eyes.
"It's him..."
"The Bicycle Hero..."
"Mumen Rider!?"
Mumen Rider emerged on the road's horizon, adjusting his helmet and clenching his fists. His armor gleamed under the sun, despite being clearly cheap and scratched. The villains stared at him in silence for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"What…? Who's this clown?" one of them asked.
"This guy threw a bike at me!!" complained another, still rubbing his sore back from the impact.
Mumen Rider stepped forward with determination. His gaze, hidden behind dark sunglasses, remained resolute.
"You... endangered civilians... That's unforgivable!" he said between gasps, clearly exhausted from pedaling so hard after the villains' car.
Without waiting for a response, he launched his Justice Punch at the largest villain. The blow struck the villain's abdomen… who smirked.
"My Quirk makes my body pliable, champ. No punch's getting through here."
Mumen Rider was thrown back by a brutal counter but managed to steady himself. Before he could recover, another villain—the one hit by the bike—was already lunging at him with blade-covered arms, ready to slice him apart. He barely dodged, finding himself surrounded.
"What're you gonna do now, hero?" one taunted.
"He seems pretty weak," another jeered.
"I heard from the crowd he's Quirkless!" the third shouted, laughing.
"Hahaha! So he's just some wannabe vigilante," the fourth sneered, blades poised. "Doesn't matter. I'll carve you up for throwing a bike at—!"
"Luna Fall!"
SFX: THOOM!
A crushing sound split the air as something white and fast as lightning descended from the sky—a giant rabbit's foot slammed straight into the blade villain's head, slamming him into the ground like a ragdoll.
The crowd gasped.
"MIRKO!!"
Mirko landed like a comet, knees flexed, letting out a grunt. Her red eyes scanned the scene.
"Making a mess in my territory? What a joke."
The villains barely had time to react before she spun mid-air with a devastating roundhouse kick.
"Luna Ring!"
She took out two at once, sending them crashing into a building. The last one tried to run but didn't get far—a backflip and a precise kick later, he was out cold.
Landing lightly, Mirko turned to Mumen Rider. The crowd cheered, but she just crossed her arms, glaring at him with mild irritation.
"Seriously? You're still at this, 'Bicycle Guy'?"
Mumen Rider, panting, weakly raised a fist.
"Justice... never... takes a day off."
"Tch," Mirko scoffed, brushing past him as civilians swarmed to take pictures of her, ignoring the hero who'd stopped a hostage situation moments ago.
The police arrived, handling the usual—handcuffs, reports, caution tape. As Mirko finished her debrief, Mumen Rider approached, removing his helmet respectfully.
"Thank you for the assist, Mirko."
She turned slowly, red eyes flashing.
"Assist? ASSIST? I did everything! You were just dead weight! If you didn't have that hero license, you'd be getting fined for playing vigilante!"
Satoru (A/N: Mumen Rider's real name) stayed silent, accepting the scolding.
"You just get in my way, you know that? Every time, I have to save your Quirkless ass! Why don't you quit? Go sell insurance! Be a teacher! Anything! Just… stay out of my district!"
Finally, he looked up from behind his glasses, voice low but firm:
"My answer's the same as always. I'll stay."
Mirko gritted her teeth, clearly furious. But after a deep breath, she leaned in and growled in his ear:
"If I catch you going after my prey again… I'll kick your ass out of my hunting grounds myself."
She walked off, leaving Satoru standing motionless in the street.
He sighed, exhausted, and walked to his bike, Justice, putting his helmet back on. But before he could mount it, he heard:
"Mr. Hero!"
The woman from earlier, with the boy who'd been taken hostage. She bowed gratefully, eyes shining.
"Thank you so much for saving my son. I'm truly grateful."
The boy bowed too, shyly.
"Thanks, Bike Man!"
Satoru smiled.
"It was nothing. Just what any hero would do."
_____[POV: Ryuji]_____ (A/N: Finally some Ryuji POV)
My head was still a complete mess.
Not the good kind of chaos—the quiet kind, where you piece together theories with an iced coffee in hand and Rice Cake napping at your feet—but the loud, overwhelming, impossible-to-ignore kind. Adrian had dumped so much information on me that I swore my brain wanted to quit and flee to the countryside.
Regents. Resets. A ridiculously powerful enemy who killed me named Ghamid, which sounded more like the name of some hardcore prescription drug. And, of course, the fact that we were all puppets in some gods' reality show while they sat around with nothing better to do... fantastic. Turns out the world is run by drunk screenwriters with a fetish for existential suffering.
"Everything will work out at the meeting with Lucifer..." I muttered to myself, trying to sort through my thoughts as I walked.
I'd asked Lucifer to set it up because I needed all my creations in one room to explain what was happening and how we'd move forward. Everyone would be there—well, except Satoru. The guy was on a special mission, busy with... who knows, probably rescuing kittens stuck in trees or something.
But then a familiar sound snapped me out of my mental spiral—a high-pitched whine right beside me.
"Rice Cake?"
The little white fluffball stared up at me with the most dramatic eyes in the universe. Literally looked like I'd committed a war crime against her.
SFX: GRRRROOOOWL.
Ah, right. Her stomach had decided to provide the apocalyptic soundtrack.
I watched as she theatrically flopped onto the ground like she was about to starve to death.
"Relax, I've got snacks for you in the bag."
...
...Wait.
I looked down at my hand. Empty. Like, completely. No bag, no food, just the crushing weight of disappointment and silence judging me.
Oh, wonderful.
The memory hit me like a reality slap—I'd left everything with Josei at the market when I ran off after Adrian. Everything. Every last penny of that well-spent grocery mission, lost to the void.
I dragged a hand down my face, frustrated.
"How does someone with a photographic memory forget a damn bag?" I grumbled, a little too loud. "Oh, wait… I didn't forget. I just drowned the info in an Olympic-sized pool of useless data and labeled it 'not important.' Congrats to me."
Another growl. Another whimper.
I sighed even deeper. Rice Cake stared at me with the most pitiful eyes on the planet.
"Fine. Fine. Food emergency. Justifies bending principles."
A golden aura flickered around my hand, and an identical bag materialized, complete with all the same items I'd bought.
"I really hate doing this..." I muttered, pulling out a gourmet treat. "Takes all the meaning out of buying stuff with sweat, blood, and long lines. But whatever. You win, fluffball."
Rice Cake devoured it like it was her last meal, eyes sparkling, crumbs flying like confetti.
"You're overacting for a furball who turns her nose up at kibble," I said, but with a tiny smirk. "Spoiled brat..."
We walked a little farther until the house came into view. My sanctuary of peace and... well, it had peace. But the scene waiting at the door wasn't exactly calming.
Josei was there, talking to my mom. They were laughing about something I couldn't hear, but Josei's smile vanished the second she saw me. And yep—she was holding the grocery bag I'd forgotten.
Damn it.
I subtly snapped my fingers, disintegrating the fake bag before they noticed. Last thing I needed was my mom thinking I'd turned into a drug dealer after disappearing for 30 minutes.
And of course, she noticed me with missile-like precision. Her smile dropped in a second.
"Ryuji Fugimoto," she said in that sweet-but-deadly tone. "Where were you?"
My throat went dry.
"I—"
"He had to leave," Josei cut in, her voice shaky but firm. "A friend needed urgent help. He left the groceries with me at the store and ran off."
My mom arched a brow at me.
"Hm. True?"
I nodded with a "Yeah, what can you do?" face.
"You shouldn't leave others to handle your responsibilities, Ryuji. You have duties, sweetheart."
I lowered my head, taking a deep breath. I hated disappointing her. Even though, technically, I was an entity with the power to disintegrate planets by sneezing.
"I know, Mom... Sorry. Won't happen again."
She sighed but smiled—the kind that said, "You'll give me a heart attack one day, but I love you."
Josei glanced at me sideways, timid. Her fingers gripped the bag's handle like it was a shield. Her expression flickered between relief, embarrassment, and something... odd.
Hm.
Well, I wasn't about to read her mind to figure it out—privacy matters and all.
But something told me I owed her proper thanks later. Maybe a good gift. Or an actual conversation. Who knows.
_____[POV: Izuku Midoriya]_____
My eyes were practically begging for eye drops—dry and heavy—after an entire night buried in reports, simulations, and statistics. The Sports Festival had been a minefield—but also a veritable goldmine for data collection. Techniques, movement patterns, flaws… pure, raw intel for me.
People still milled about the business district, but I turned down a quieter alley, one of the few that still held that almost therapeutic silence. I let out a loud yawn as I unlocked the padlock on my rented warehouse, which, from the outside, looked like just another repair shop. And honestly, that was exactly the impression I wanted.
I stepped inside, shut the door behind me, and made my way to the right wall. Pressing my right palm against the concrete surface, a hologram flickered to life where I touched it, scanning my biometrics. When the light shifted from red to green, the wall slid open, revealing a hidden passage with a descending staircase. I sighed and started down, muttering to myself:
"I really should start listening to my mom… going to bed earlier doesn't sound so bad right now."
The lower floor was dark, save for a few dim floor lights guiding my steps. I stopped in front of the office and clapped my hands, forcing my voice into something more energetic:
"Wake up, kid. Daddy's home."
Beep.
"Welcome back, sir," Jarvis replied in that smooth British tone of his—the kind that made me want to smile, even when I was dead on my feet.
One by one, the lab's lights flickered on, revealing my world: workbenches, computers, control panels, half-finished parts, compact weaponry, tools, pieces of armor. A perfectly ordered chaos.
Holographic screens materialized in front of me, a flood of data arranging itself into floating windows. My hands moved swiftly, pulling up files, cross-referencing intel, aligning graphs, rescheduling timelines, and reorganizing every scattered project. So much to do. There always was.
The lights reached the back of the lab, and there she was.
My newest obsession: a roughly 8-foot-tall iron armor frame, far larger and more robust than the D.E.K.U. model, some sections still gleaming with fresh metallic paint—my most ambitious solo project yet. Quirk Buster.
I plugged the PEN drive into the console, initiating the backup of all the festival's data. Jarvis began running analyses on his own—he knew what to look for. I glanced at the armor again, feeling that familiar mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.
"It's gonna be a long day, Jarvis."
"Preparing systems. Coffee, sir?"
I smirked.
"You know me too well."
Work was calling. I couldn't stop. Not yet.
_____[POV: Third person]_____
The two days off that Aizawa had granted Class 1-A had come to an end. U.A. High buzzed back to life with the sound of hurried footsteps, laughter, and excited chatter as the students returned. The 1-A classroom was especially lively that morning, with everyone exchanging stories about what they'd been up to since the Sports Festival.
"A bunch of people came up to talk to me on the way here," Uraraka commented shyly, scratching her cheek.
"Well, duh! You got third place!" Mina replied with a wide grin.
Uraraka flustered, her cheeks turning slightly pink.
"Yeah… even my parents and I still can't really believe it happened." She clenched her fists with determination. "But next time… I'm taking first place!"
Tsuyu, as blunt as ever, muttered:
"Hard to do with Ryuji and Todoroki in the way, ribbit."
Uraraka let out an awkward chuckle and murmured a weak, "Yeah…" in agreement.
On the other side of the room, Ryuji stretched in his seat before turning to his friend, who looked more like a zombie than a student.
"Izuku… you need sleep. You're gonna collapse at this rate."
Izuku rubbed his red, heavy eyes, his voice sluggish.
"I know, I know… I'll go to bed early tonight. Promise."
Before Ryuji could say anything else, the door opened, and Aizawa walked in with his usual tired—yet still imposing—expression. He didn't even need to say "quiet"; the class automatically settled down, a testament to the respect they all had for him.
Aizawa's gaze lingered on Izuku for a brief moment, and a faint smile—rare for him—escaped his lips. Izuku blinked in confusion, unsure why his teacher was looking at him with something almost like… pride?
"I hope you all made good use of those two days off," Aizawa began, his voice firm. "You earned them after the festival. But today's Hero Informatics class will be special."
A murmur of curiosity rippled through the room, but Aizawa raised a hand to continue.
"Before that… we have a new student joining us. She'll be filling the vacancy left by Bakugo."
At the mention of his name, the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The air grew heavier, conversations dying out. Izuku, in particular, lowered his gaze, guilt still fresh in his mind—even though none of it was his fault.
The door opened, and a girl stepped in with light, silent footsteps. Short, silky black hair, pointed cat ears twitching slightly, and a fluffy tail swaying behind her. Her dark eyes gleamed with mischief. Kuruhana Nemuri.
"Hello, Class 1-A! I'm Kurohana Nemuri! Hope we get along, nyan~" she said, striking a peace sign and ending with a playful meow that drew surprised looks and stifled smiles from most of the class.
Izuku, sitting behind Ryuji, muttered:
"I didn't expect them to fill Bakugo's spot so quickly…"
Ryuji shrugged, not taking his eyes off the girl.
"Was bound to happen. With her performance in the festival and… well, the circumstances."
Nemuri cheerfully walked to the empty desk—right in front of Ryuji—and as soon as she sat down, she plopped her head down as if she were right at home. The confused stares didn't faze her.
Aizawa cleared his throat, regaining everyone's attention.
"Alright. Today's lesson is special because you'll be choosing your hero names."
The class erupted in excitement.
"FOR REAL?!"
"NOW?!"
"I'VE WAITED SO LONG FOR THIS!"
Nemuri flinched at the sudden outburst, lifting her head with wide eyes. Ryuji chuckled, crossing his arms.
"Welcome to Class 1-A, Nemuri. Here, your peace will be stolen every minute."
"N-Nyan?! S-so much energy…"
"As I mentioned last class," Aizawa continued, "—the offers you received will directly influence this process. Hero names help establish your identity, and even though you're only first-years, the exposure you've gotten has already put you on the radar of several agencies."
He raised his hand, and a projector displayed the list of offer rankings.
"Here are the results."
A respectful silence fell over the room as they saw the top of the list.
1st Place: Ryuji Fugimoto — 8,247 offers.
"D-Do that many agencies even exist in Japan?" Jiro whispered in disbelief.
The focus then shifted to second place—Shoto Todoroki, with 4,123 offers. Other names followed, with Uraraka and Iida also standing out.
Aizawa crossed his arms, observing their reactions.
"Don't worry if you didn't get any offers. All of you will still have work experience. I'll personally oversee it."
The room gradually settled, but glances still flickered toward Ryuji, who just sighed, resting his chin on his hand.
"And now they probably think I'm some kind of prodigy or something…" he muttered with a smirk. "Little do they know I'm just a generic blond anime protagonist lookalike with a weakness for coffee jelly."
Nemuri glanced back at him curiously.
"Coffee jelly? Nyan… that's weird…"
"...Get out."
Aizawa continued, his voice firm but calm, capturing the class's attention:
"As you already know, after facing the incident at U.S.J., you've already stepped into the real world of heroes. But witnessing a pro hero's daily life firsthand will be even more useful than any training. And that's why you'll need codenames—but choose wisely, because..."
Before he could finish, the door swung open, and as if she had rehearsed her dramatic entrance, Midnight strode into the room with a sharp click of heels and a provocative smile.
"Because if you pick a bad one..." she said, theatrically finishing Aizawa's sentence, "...it'll be a complete nightmare."
The class reacted with a mix of excitement and nervous laughter. Midnight leaned against the desk, eyeing the students with her signature teasing demeanor.
"Codenames aren't just cool nicknames. They're the image you'll present to the world, the essence that'll become a symbol of who you are as heroes," she added, crossing her arms.
Aizawa merely nodded, crouching down and pulling out his trusty sleeping bag.
"Midnight will oversee this. Use your time well. Remember: names and natures should match. Good luck." And with that, he burrowed into the bag like a worm retreating from the world.
Excitement erupted in the classroom. The students huddled in groups, tossing around ideas, scribbling on cards, and testing out combinations. Some classic names emerged, following tradition... until only three figures remained standing: Kurohana Nemuri, Izuku, and Ryuji.
Nemuri was the first to lazily stroll to the front of the class, as if each step were a battle against the existential exhaustion of being a feline teenager in a world of expectations.
"Ugh, okay... my hero name is..." She raised her card with one hand while the other covered a yawn. "Catwoman~ nyan!" She struck a pose, hands curled like paws, winking with a "W"-shaped smile.
The class burst into laughter and applause. Some even shouted "Kawaii!" from the back.
Midnight chuckled.
"Interesting choice... I would've bet on Catgirl. Why not?"
Nemuri shrugged with the same nonchalance as a cat swatting something off a table.
"I looked at you and imagined you in a cat outfit... and then—bam, inspiration. But I'm too lazy to think of another one now, so this'll do, nyan~."
Midnight let out an amused giggle, appreciating the girl's straightforward simplicity. Nemuri returned to her seat and immediately curled up in her chair like a cat by a fireplace.
Next was Izuku.
Unlike Nemuri, he walked with determination. His eyes gleamed behind dark circles—evidence of sleepless nights spent on projects and tests. He held up his card proudly, his smile almost cracking the seriousness he was trying to maintain.
"My codename is... The Armored Hero: D.E.K.U!" he declared energetically.
The class erupted in cheers. Kaminari whooped in approval, and Sero whistled.
"Dude, that name's sick! It's got that full-on tech-hero vibe!"
Izuku glanced at Ryuji, who simply smirked and gave a silent thumbs-up in support.
Midnight crossed her legs, assessing him.
"I like it. Technical, direct, and impactful. You'll have to live up to that 'Armored Hero' title, D.E.K.U."
Izuku nodded firmly.
Then, it was Ryuji's turn. He stood slowly, the room falling quiet almost out of respect. It was inevitable—the aura he carried affected everyone. His steps were steady, his presence serene. When he reached the front, his sharp blue eyes swept over the attentive faces. He raised his card, and his voice rang out, weighted with meaning.
"The Golden Guardian of Good: Sentry."
A brief silence settled over the room. Kaminari repeated it aloud, as if testing the weight of the name:
"Sentry..."
"That's a manly and imposing name!" Kirishima exclaimed, eyes sparkling with excitement.
"It really suits him," Izuku murmured, studying the card with curiosity, as if seeing something deeper in it.
Midnight scrutinized the name on the card.
"That's a bold name to take... You'll have to work hard to live up to its weight, Sentry," she said, finishing with a teasing lick of her lips.
"Don't worry. I'll give it my all."
Izuku smiled, recognizing in his friend's choice a greater meaning—something only those who had known him since the beginning would understand. To the others, it was a powerful name. To him, it was more than that: a symbol of a promise, of hope... and of a past too heavy for a 14-year-old with eyes that had seen forty.
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(A/N: I finished the chapter with almost 4,000 words—those who love long chapters definitely devoured every line without mercy. Anyway, our MC's hero name has been chosen, and HarHarMahadev is probably very happy because I used his suggestion. Well, I kinda liked the name too—it was a toss-up between "Pillar of the World" or "Golden Guardian of Good." Honestly, "Pillar of the World" sounded way too absurd, so I decided to go with "Golden Guardian of Good" instead. I hope you enjoyed the read. Your presence always keeps me going with this fanfic-writing hobby of mine. I always have this thought in my head that there must be a bunch of people waiting for me to update this fanfic, and that keeps me motivated to keep writing. I truly appreciate your support and look forward to seeing you in the next update.)