The attack on USJ by the League of Villains was merely the beginning—though none of them truly grasped the magnitude of what was to come. Experiencing a real battle against genuine villains struck deep into the hearts of every student present at the scene.
Despite being overwhelmed by fear, the students managed to stall the villains briefly before reinforcements arrived.
Eraser Head lay unconscious on the hospital bed, his body grievously injured, ensnared in a web of tubes and pipes that kept him alive. He had fought valiantly, subduing numerous villains in his desperate attempt to shield his students. Yet, Shigaraki and Nomu had delivered a devastating assault, leaving Eraser Head with shattered bones and near-fatal wounds.
Meanwhile, Detective Tsukauchi met with Nezu, U.A. 's principal, to ensure the entire campus was secure. Once safety was confirmed, he and his fellow detectives proceeded to scour the U.A. premises for any lingering threats.
Two excruciating days had passed since the USJ incident, and Eraser Head remained in critical condition, his recovery agonizingly slow.
A low groan escaped Shin's lips as he awoke close to noon, his gaze drifting to Rika, who was sprawled comfortably atop him.
"Morning, Rika-chan."
She giggled warmly, her tiny hands clutching his cheeks as he playfully kissed her forehead. After a few minutes of lighthearted teasing, Shin jolted out of bed, clad only in his boxers.
After washing up, he descended the stairs with Rika perched securely on his shoulders.
"Oh, you're up, Shin."
"Morning, Dad. Morning, Mom."
His mother's voice was soothing. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay… but my body still hurts." Shin gritted his teeth, his fist clenching involuntarily. "I need to get stronger. I can't afford to waste any more time."
His father studied him, recognizing the resolve in his son's eyes. To be a hero meant embracing the reality of life-and-death battles—of facing real villains and risking everything to protect others.
A memory surfaced: Shin, training in the woods before U.A., vehemently refusing to let Rika become a hero. He had sworn to be her protector, to shield her from the dangers he himself would face.
"I've called Doflamingo. He's on his way to Japan." His father's lips twitched into a faint smile.
"Uncle Doffy?" Shin's eyes lit up with anticipation. "I can't wait for him to train me," he muttered, tightening his fist.
His father wiped away the moisture gathering in his eyes. "I know how badly you want to grow stronger… but don't expect him to go easy on you."
"Don't worry, Dad. I'll surpass both you and Uncle Doffy someday."
"I believe you will… but he might just kill you in the process."
Shin burst into laughter, oblivious to the gravity of his father's words. "Stop joking, Dad. You're hilarious."
"Am I?"
A loud growl from Shin's stomach abruptly ended their conversation.
"Shit. Heh."
"It's nearly noon. Go eat your breakfast," his mother chided, busying herself with changing Rika's diaper.
Turning to his wife, Shin's father murmured, "Tell me, sweetheart… how do you feel about our son fighting real villains?"
She exhaled softly. "If he's determined to walk the path of a hero, then he must prepare to fight like All Might and the pros."
Nakamura let out a weary sigh. "I'm worried about Shin. I mean… he's coming."
"He?"
"Doflamingo." His voice was icy, yet eerily composed.
"How has he evaded capture for this long? He's an SSS-Class threat."
"True. But what concerns me is how Shin will react when he learns the truth."
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there." She rose, cradling the sleeping Rika in her arms. "I'll put her to bed."
"Alright, sweetheart."
After finishing his meal, Shin changed and stepped outside for an intensive run. He was determined to shed any excess weight, to become twice as fast—to forge his body into a weapon so he would never again succumb to paralyzing fear.
Sweat streamed down his temples, his heart hammering violently against his ribs, yet he pushed forward. He ran until his muscles screamed in protest, until his lungs burned with exertion. Pausing only to gulp down water, he then headed to the gym, lifting weights to build endurance and raw strength—preparing himself for his uncle's arrival.
Unbeknownst to him, that arrival had already occurred.
…
A sinister smirk curled Doflamingo's lips. "Hehehe." His low, mocking laughter slithered through the air as his fingers twitched rhythmically. Stepping away from the airport, he slipped into a deserted alleyway—somewhere secluded, where his Quirk could be unleashed without attracting unwanted attention.
He was acutely aware of his notoriety. As an SSS-Class villain in Japan's history—ranking alongside All For One (AFO)—his mere presence would trigger alarms. If any Pro Heroes spotted him, All Might and every available enforcer would descend upon him in an instant.
Yet, there was a delicious irony in his existence: his Quirk could neither be stolen by AFO nor nullified by Eraser Head. That inviolability had forced him into exile years ago, fleeing to Korea to operate in the shadows as "The Joker"—a master of subterfuge and intelligence extraction.
Through Nakamura, Doflamingo had learned of the USJ incident days prior. Now, he was intrigued. Whoever led this "League of Villains"—this Shigaraki, who dared declare war on the Symbol of Peace—was either a fool or a pawn in a far grander scheme.
"This'll be entertaining," he mused, his grin widening. "But first… a reunion with little Shin."
With a flick of his wrist, razor-thin strings erupted from his fingertips. His signature pink feather coat—flamboyant yet menacing—rippled as he crouched, then launched himself skyward with explosive force.
Unlike Shin and his father, Doflamingo had mastered his Quirk to its absolute zenith—achieving Awakening, a transcendent evolution of power honed through decades of ruthless discipline. Now, he stood as a true apex predator.
The ground cratered beneath him as he ascended, his strings latching onto the clouds to propel him forward at blinding speed. His smirk never faltered. He would mold Shin into something greater—forge him into a successor who could surpass even him.
After all, every king needs an heir… or a worthy usurper.
After soaring through the clouds for some time, Doflamingo deactivated his Quirk with a dark chuckle, hands buried deep in his pockets as he plummeted earthward. The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, kicking up a dense cloud of dust that sent nearby patrolling heroes staggering from the sudden, violent tremor.
"Who's coming? Let's play tag." His maniacal laughter echoed as civilians scattered in terror, recognizing him instantly as a threat. "Oh, I forgot," he mused, tapping his forehead theatrically. "Brother dearest told me not to cause trouble." The memory of Nakamura's warning flickered through his mind.
Before he could slip away, one of the patrolling heroes burst onto the scene, eyes wide with alarm.
"W-Who are you?" The hero stammered, bracing himself.
Doflamingo flicked a single finger, sending an invisible string lashing out at blistering speed. It struck the hero's temple with surgical precision, dropping him unconscious before he could blink. "Consider this mercy," Doflamingo drawled, stepping over the fallen man. "He did say no trouble… hero."
Melding seamlessly into the fleeing crowd, he pulled out his phone, scanning the address Nakamura had sent. After a leisurely stroll through the city's underbelly, he arrived at his destination: the Nakamura residence.
With a twist of his fingers, the lock clicked open, and he shouldered the door inward—only for a fist to collide with his face the moment he crossed the threshold.
"Learn some manners, Mingo," Nakamura growled, though the stern words were undercut by the smirk tugging at his lips.
Doflamingo threw his head back, laughing wildly as he pressed a hand to his bruised cheek. "How long has it been, old friend?"
"Who knows?"
Their shared laughter filled the foyer before Nakamura disappeared upstairs to fetch his wife, returning moments later with a chilled bottle of champagne.
"I hope you didn't cause any trouble on your way here?" Nakamura said, pouring the drinks.
"Who knows!" Doflamingo replied, waving a dismissive hand.
Sakura, Shin's mother, glided toward him, her smile sweet as poisoned honey. Leaning in, her whisper was a blade wrapped in silk: "If you ever harm my baby boy, I'll peel the flesh from your bones with my bare hands."
Doflamingo took a slow sip of champagne, the glass hiding his grin. "Aye aye, captain."
The trio clinked glasses, swapping stories and reminiscing—until the creak of the front door shattered the moment.
Shin stepped inside, drenched in sweat, his breath ragged from training. Then his eyes locked onto the man lounging on the couch, that familiar golden hair, that smile—
"Uncle Doffy?!" He gasped.
Doflamingo tilted his head, the shadows deepening around his grin as a low, guttural chuckle escaped him.
"The beast has returned…"
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