Kirishima stepped outside U.A.'s dormitory building, inhaling the crisp evening air. The campus was unusually quiet, the usual chatter of students absent. Everyone was still recovering, both physically and mentally, from the attack at the USJ. He could still hear the distant echoes of that day in his mind—the growls of the Nomu, the manic laughter of Shigaraki, the agonized cries of his friends.
The school grounds were mostly empty, students either in recovery or too shaken to wander around aimlessly. He found himself near one of the smaller gardens on campus, a quiet place where blades of grass swayed with the wind and insects skittered in the dirt beneath his feet.
He crouched down, watching as ants carried away the remains of a beetle, its broken body lying still as its tiny scavengers stripped it apart piece by piece. It wasn't cruelty—it was survival. They were taking what they needed, doing what was necessary to keep moving forward.
Another insect caught his eye—a butterfly with tattered wings, struggling against a gust of wind. It flapped and flapped, desperate to keep itself afloat, but no matter how hard it fought, the damage had already been done. The wind won, and the butterfly crashed to the ground, its movements weak, helpless.
Kirishima swallowed hard. Was this what being a hero was?
He had always believed in the ideals of heroism—that standing strong, being resilient, and fighting with everything you had was what made someone a hero. That was what being "unbreakable" meant, wasn't it?
But watching that butterfly fight a losing battle, he wondered—was it really strength to fight a battle you could never win?
The ants didn't fight the wind. They moved with it. They worked in unison, taking what was necessary, adapting to their environment. They weren't bound by rules of morality or heroism. They did what they had to in order to survive.
And heroes? Heroes fought blindly against the storm. They threw themselves into battle because that's what the system demanded. Because the law expected them to. But what if the law was what held them back? What if, in trying to be righteous, they were only making it easier for villains to win?
He clenched his fists, staring out at the city skyline beyond the school's barriers. The lights of Musutafu flickered like stars, illuminating the streets below. It looked peaceful from here, but he knew better. Underneath that glow, crime festered. People suffered. Heroes were supposed to stop that suffering, but could they? Were they even capable?
He had grown up idolizing heroes, believing in their strength, in their ability to keep order. But after what happened at the USJ, the certainty he once had was cracking. The villains had walked into U.A., a school that was supposed to be the safest place in the country, and nearly killed them all. If not for All Might, they would have died. And even then, All Might had barely won.
That fact kept gnawing at him.
If even All Might had struggled, then what chance did they have? What chance did anyone have?
He thought about the news stories he had seen, about how villain attacks had been increasing over the years. More people were suffering, and despite all the heroes, despite all the regulations and pro agencies, crime wasn't stopping. It was growing.
The system wasn't enough.
Kirishima sighed and started walking, letting his feet carry him away from the dorms. He wasn't sure where he was going, only that he needed to move. As he wandered through the well-manicured paths of U.A., his mind kept circling back to one thought:
What if there was another way?
What if the hero system, with all its rules and restrictions, was holding them back? Heroes were bound by laws. By bureaucracy. They had to wait for approval to act, had to follow strict regulations. And in that time, people died.
He thought about how Aizawa had scolded him for acting recklessly. How he had said Kirishima needed to think, to plan, to strategize. But in that moment, against Shigaraki, there had been no time to plan. There had only been action. If he had hesitated, if he had thought too much, someone would have died.
Sacrifices had to be made. But maybe there was a way to minimize them. Maybe heroes needed to be something more—something unrestrained. Someone who could move when needed, without waiting for permission.
A figure who operated outside the law, but still fought for the people.
An anti-hero.
The thought sent a chill down his spine. It felt wrong, didn't it? Heroes didn't break the rules. They didn't work outside the law. That was what villains did.
But… was it really that simple?
Was it villainous to do what had to be done?
His mind flashed back to the look in Shigaraki's eyes as he reached for him. There had been no hesitation. No restraint. And because of that, Shigaraki had almost won.
Maybe restraint wasn't an option anymore.
Kirishima stopped walking. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. He had always wanted to be a hero—to be strong enough to protect the people who needed him. But now he was realizing something else.
Maybe to truly save people… he had to become something else.
Something more.
The streetlights flickered overhead as he made his decision.
The hero system wasn't enough.
But he would be.