"In this world, people are born as either heroes or villains. At least, that's what they say."
Smoke lingers in the air, twisting into the night like specters of the destruction left behind. The streets are fractured, littered with debris, distant sirens wailing through the silence. And there—at the center of it all—she stands. Knees weak. Hands trembling. Blood—her own, theirs—drips onto the pavement, pooling beneath her feet.
"So where does that leave me?"
"You need to stop this, young one."
The voice cuts through the haze, deep and unwavering. All Might stands before her. His golden hair is streaked with blood, his cape torn, but his presence remains unshaken. She should be afraid. Should be furious. Should be something. But all she feels is tired.
She raises a hand, fingers twitching, and the air bends. Rubble lifts from the ground, weightless in her grasp. A sharp inhale. A flick of her wrist. The force erupts—cars crushed, concrete splintering. It should be an attack to kill. But it isn't.
Because she's holding back. And he knows.
"You're struggling."
Her chest tightens. She refuses to acknowledge it. Refuses to think about what brought her here. The ashes, the screaming, the silence that followed.
"I know what happened." All Might's voice is softer now, almost cautious. "To your parents."
Her breath hitches.
The shadows stretch beneath her feet, twisting like clawed hands, reaching for something already lost.
"Shut up."
She lunges. He meets her halfway. Fist against invisible force, pressure splitting the very earth beneath them. She strikes again, a surge of power tearing through the air, but he doesn't waver. He doesn't fall. And deep down, she knows—he won't.
"You're holding back."
A flicker of something unfamiliar flashes in his eyes. Not judgment. Not anger. Recognition. She stiffens. She wants to deny it, to push forward, to end this fight before it drags on any further—but her grip slips. The weight inside her chest grows heavier, her mind fracturing under the pressure. Her power surges, wild, unchained.
Then, something inside snaps.
"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!"
The turmoils build inside her mind. Everything feels too much. The world is closing in on her, suffocating, overwhelming. And then—it snaps. Her emotions crack open like a dam, and suddenly, her power spirals out of control.
A pulse erupts from her, invisible but terrifyingly real—a telekinetic explosion fueled by raw emotion. Glass shatters. Cars lift off the ground. Buildings groan as their foundations quake. The sheer force ripples outward like a tidal wave, swallowing everything in its path. All Might's eyes widen. This isn't just power. This is a breakdown. And it's going to take innocent lives with it.
And then—screams.
Civilians.
She sees it—people caught in the destruction, screaming. Their terror claws at her. This is wrong. This is exactly what she swore she wouldn't become. And before she can stop herself—
One final push, her power reverses—she sends the people flying away from the collapsing structures, shielding them from harm. The dust settles. Silence rings in her ears. She barely registers the movement around her until— in the moment of hesitation, she knows that—the trap closes.
"NOW!"
Restraints coil around her in an instant. Too many heroes. She feels them—Endeavor, Hawks, even Aizawa and the International Heroes. They had been waiting. Watching. And now that she had let her guard down, they pounced.
She struggles, but the Quirk-suppressing technology drains her strength instantly. Her limbs feel heavy, her power silenced. The fight is over before she can even process it. She looks up, breathless, and sees All Might staring at her—not with anger, but with something worse.
Pity.
And it makes her stomach turn. And somewhere in the depths of her mind, her other self laughs.
"Told you."
A dim room. Cold metal. Surveillance lights hum softly overhead, casting flickering shadows against the walls—a classified underground facility. No doubt meant for dangerous individuals like her. Her wrists are bound, her power dulled by suppressors, her body weak from the fight. She isn't dead. That's a surprise.
And then—a voice.
"Well, well. Quite the spectacle you made out there."
Her eyes flicker to the speaker. A small creature—a mouse? A bear? Something far more dangerous than either. Principal Nezu.
He watches her, sharp eyes gleaming with something indecipherable. Amusement? Interest? Curiosity.
The room is silent for a moment, thick with unspoken tension. Then, the other half speaks first. "Hah. Didn't realize we had fans. Should I start signing autographs?"
Nezu chuckles, unfazed. "No need. The footage alone is quite the signature." He taps a file against the table, watching her carefully. "But tell me, young one… if you were truly set on destruction, why did you save those civilians?"
She leans back against the cold chair, tilting her head slightly. The other self smirks. "What can I say? I got sentimental. Maybe the whole 'tragic anti-hero' thing suits me better."
A pause. A shift in Nezu's expression, almost imperceptible. He's studying her. Or rather… both of them.
"Interesting. So, you care about innocent lives?"
"Care is a strong word." The smirk deepens, but there's something guarded beneath it. "Let's just say… I had a moment. Won't happen again."
"Hmm. I wonder if that's true."
Nezu leans forward, resting his paws lightly on the table. "Because someone is willing to sponsor you."
For the first time, her actual self reacts. A subtle shift, a sharp inhale—but she doesn't speak.
The other half, however, chuckles softly.
"Oh? You mean someone out there actually thinks I'm worth redeeming? How touching. Let me guess, some hero with a soft heart and a savior complex?"
Nezu's smile doesn't waver. "Something like that. But let's be clear… this isn't mercy."
The weight in his tone dims the sarcasm just slightly.
"It's a gamble."
The room falls into silence again. For the first time, the other half doesn't immediately respond. There's something unsettling about how Nezu looks at her—like he already knows which path she'll take before she even does.
Her fingers twitch against the restraints.
"And if I refuse?"
Nezu tilts his head, still eerily calm. "Then you stay here. Or worse."
The other self sighs, a slow, exaggerated exhale.
"Tch. Well, when you put it like that, how could I say no?"
But beneath the sarcasm, there's something else. A weight pressing down on both of them. The truth neither of them wants to face.
A quiet, almost reluctant thought slips through.
"…What happens to us now?"
Nezu smiles. "That depends on you."
The underground facility was always cold.
Not in the way that sent shivers across skin, but the kind that seeped into the bones, numbing everything from the inside out.
Sterile walls. Dim lights.
A silence that hummed with too many unspoken things.
She sat on the cot, knees pulled up, wrists still bandaged from where the suppressors bit into her skin. It had been days. Weeks? She wasn't sure. Time moved strangely in places like this.
And yet, no matter how much time passed, her mind always circled back to the same thing.
"You're struggling."
All Might's words still grated against her. But worse—Nezu's words wouldn't leave her alone.
"This isn't mercy. It's a gamble."
The other her scowled.
"Gamble, huh? Guess that makes us one big messed-up casino chip," her other self drawled, stretching out lazily in the back of her mind. "What do you think, oh tragic one? Feel like proving the rodent wrong? Or should we give them a real reason to be scared?"
She didn't answer. Instead, a memory surfaced.
—
The metallic tang of blood. The suffocating grip of restraints. Hands prying into her skull, into her thoughts, into her very existence.
"Again."
Pain. White-hot, searing. The scent of burnt ozone.
"Again."
Screams—were they hers? Someone else's? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except—
"AGAIN."
—
Her breath hitched. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the memory down. It clawed at the edges of her mind, but she shoved it away.
It's over. It's done.
"…You're thinking about them again."
Her other self didn't sound mocking this time. Just observant. Knowing.
"Is that so...?" She exhaled, slow and shaky. Before she could spiral further, the door clicked open.
A figure stood in the doorway—tall, tired, his dark hair falling messily over sharp eyes.
Aizawa Shouta.
For a moment, neither spoke. He stared, assessing her like she was some unsolvable puzzle.
She tilted her head, breaking the silence first. "And here I thought they'd send someone a little more... presentable."
"And here I thought I'd be escorting someone who doesn't talk like they're auditioning for a villain monologue."
A pause. Then, the slightest smirk tugged at her lips, , perhaps she herself didn't realize that...she could "smile"?
"I think so."
Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. "Let's go. You have an exam to take."
Her amusement faltered. She blinked, momentarily thrown. "You're… actually letting me take the entrance exam?"
"No. I'm dragging you there just to watch." His voice was dry, unimpressed. Then, more seriously—"Principal Nezu believes in second chances."
She studied him carefully. "And you?"
Aizawa's gaze was unreadable. He didn't trust her. That much was clear. But there was something else, too.
"I don't believe in throwing away potential."
Her chest tightened.
Her other self chuckled. "Oh? A teacher with a soft spot? How poetic."
Aizawa ignored the comment, motioning toward the hallway. "Move. We don't have all day."
—
U.A. Entrance Exam
The bus ride had been uneventful. Aizawa barely spoke, only offering curt instructions. She had kept quiet, occasionally glancing at the city outside—the same city she nearly tore apart.
When they arrived at U.A, she felt the weight of a thousand stares. Whispers. Nervous glances.
"Oh, look. A zoo exhibit. How flattering." She rolled her eyes at her other self but said nothing.
Then—a boy with messy green hair almost bumped into her.
"Ah—sorry!"
She blinked. He looked familiar.
Green eyes. Too wide. Too bright. Like he was still clinging to the idea that things could be good.
Before she could react, he gave a nervous smile. "Are you here for the exam too?"
Her lips parted slightly. She could lie. Could push him away. But—
"Not quite so... But yeah...."
His eyes widened a little in surprise. "Oh! Well, good luck!"
…What?
She barely had time to process the genuine encouragement before he hurried toward the examination hall. Her other self snickered. "He's way too nice. I almost feel bad for him."
Almost.
With a sigh, she stuffed her hands into her pockets and followed.
Whatever this was—whatever Nezu had planned for her—it was just beginning.
The air in the observation room was heavy.
Not with hatred, but something close—calculated scrutiny.
As Aizawa led her inside, the gazes of several pro heroes locked onto her. No words were spoken, but she could feel the weight behind their eyes. A mixture of unease, doubt, and silent assessment.
"They're dissecting you," her other self murmured, amusement curling around her words. "Trying to decide what kind of monster they've let through the door."
She ignored the voice in her head, keeping her expression blank. There was no need to react. No need to show them anything.
Aizawa gestured toward a seat, deliberately placing her between himself and Hound Dog. A not-so-subtle message.
We don't trust you.
We're watching you.
Fine. It wasn't like she expected anything less.
Settling into her chair, she let her gaze flicker toward the massive screens in front of them. The entrance exam had begun.
Students scattered across the test grounds, each facing down the mechanical threats before them. Some moved with clear confidence, their Quirks flaring like second nature. Others stumbled, hesitating under the pressure.
Her heterochromatic eyes narrowed.
Weakness, strength, fear, determination—she could see it all.
The heroes around her murmured among themselves, analyzing performances, pointing out promising candidates. She tuned most of it out, watching as the strong rose above the chaos, and the weak fell behind.
Then—her gaze landed on him.
Midoriya Izuku.
The same boy who had spoken to her earlier. Nervous, awkward, but undeniably burning with something fierce.
And yet, he hadn't scored a single point.
Her eyebrows twitched into a frown. "It's almost times up.... What's he doing?"