Finally, they reached a door with a nameplate that read "Eichi Uzuchi." Kaina gestured to it with a flourish. "And here we are! Your new home away from home."
Eichi stared at the door for a moment before reaching out and turning the handle. The room inside was modest but comfortable, with a bed, a desk, a closet, and a small window that looked out over the campus. It was... nice. Too nice, in Eichi's opinion. He wasn't used to having his own space, let alone one that felt so... normal.
Kaina stepped inside after him, her hands clasped behind her back as she surveyed the room. "What do you think? It's not much, but it's cozy, right?"
Eichi set the box of documents on the desk and glanced around. "It's great."
Kaina smiled, clearly pleased. "Great! I'll let you get settled in. If you need anything, just let me know. Oh, and dinner's at 7 PM in the common area. It's a good chance to meet your classmates."
Eichi nodded, though his expression made it clear he had no intention of attending. "Yeah. Thanks a lot."
Kaina hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to say more, but ultimately decided against it. "Alright, I'll leave you to it. Welcome again, to U.A., Eichi."
With that, she turned and left, closing the door softly behind her. Eichi stood in the middle of the room, the silence pressing in on him. He took a deep breath, his sharp eyes scanning every corner of the room. It was clean, almost sterile, and it felt... wrong. Too quiet. Too safe.
He walked over to the window and peered outside. The campus sprawled out below him, a maze of buildings and pathways. Somewhere out there, Nezu was watching. Somewhere out there, the Kiri-nin and his team were lurking. And somewhere out there, the heir was hidden, waiting to be found.
Eichi's jaw tightened as he turned away from the window. He didn't have time to waste on dorm rooms and dinner plans. He had a plan, and he wasn't about to let himself get comfortable.
He opened the box of documents and began sorting through them, his mind already allocating space for plans and contingencies. The room might be his for now, but it wasn't home. It never would be.
Eichi sat at the desk, the documents spread out in front of him like a battlefield map. His eyes scanned every line, every word, committing the details of his cover story to memory again and again. "Born and raised in Tsurui, Hokkaido. Orphaned at a young age. Raised in a small, rural community. Quirk: Enhanced Strength." He muttered the words under his breath, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, that'll fool everyone."
He tossed the papers back into the box and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The room felt suffocating, as if the walls closing in on him. He wasn't used to this—being trapped in a place that felt so... normal. It was unsettling, like wearing a mask that didn't quite fit.
The papers detailed the laws of this country, along with the education system. No killing, even as a pro hero, even if the situation demanded it. He saw it as foolish. A society that adhered to such rules and regulations, with their abhorrent obsession with human life, was doomed to collapse. What about those massacred? Was the perpetrator given a chance to redeem himself? What about the victims? Were they expected to forgive and forget?
Such injustice breeds hatred, and with it comes conflict. Human nature is always prone to evil if things became a shitshow and anarchy prevails. After all, those so-called villains are prone to doing it again if they are not threatened by the prospect of death.
Let's also not talk about the logistics of keeping said criminals in prisons. As more and more criminals filled the prisons, the more money they cost, and the lesser the sentences to keep the country from going into a deficit.
The cost to sentence someone to death is higher? How in the fuck does that make sense? Eichi deduced that because of laws placed to respect human life, the cost to bury someone is higher, as the estate for cemeteries is high, especially with the cost of living.
All of that he saw as nothing more than delusional. Why not just cremate and scatter the ashes? A criminal doesn't deserve mercy. Yes, a robber and a pickpocket can't be compared to murderers and rapists. However, when even the latter are given leniency, how can this society keep peace any longer?
However, Eichi decided to stop such thinking. If he kept it up, especially when the population wasn't expected to defend themselves against evil, it wouldn't end.
Madness, madness, and stupidity, thought Eichi as he clicked his tongue.
The academy books in the box explained how to augment one's Quirk, detailing the curriculum and the various tests students would face. As Eichi read through them, the similarities to the shinobi system were impossible to ignore. The annual school festival, for instance, was described as a grand event where students showcased their skills in front of pro heroes, agencies, and the public. To Eichi, it was nothing more than a flashier version of the Chunin Exams—a high-stakes tournament where young shinobi proved their worth and climbed the ranks.
The practical tests, where students were evaluated on combat abilities, teamwork, and problem-solving, reminded him of the Genin tests administered by Jonin instructors. Even the written exams and monthly physical assessments mirrored the rigorous academic and physical training of the shinobi academy. The only difference was the packaging: here, it was all wrapped in heroic ideals and public spectacle.
"So, this is their version of it," Eichi muttered, his tone dry. "Dress it up in capes and call it justice, but it's the same game. Just with more rules."
The parallels didn't end there. The hero system, much like the shinobi system, was built on hierarchy and control. Students were groomed to follow orders, to fit into a structure that prioritized image over practicality.