Location: U.A. Faculty Observation Room
Smoke from Endeavor's half-burned cigarette curled toward the ceiling. Beside him, a digital display replayed footage of the Obstacle Course. The screen showed a cloaked figure moving calmly through the carnage, never rushing, never reacting—only existing, untouchable.
Endeavor squinted.
"You're telling me this kid finished first?" he muttered, eyes narrowing.
"Yūgami-no-Mikado," Eraserhead replied, arms folded. "His Quirk's called Domain. That's all we've confirmed."
"Doesn't look fast. Doesn't look strong."
"He isn't. Not in the usual sense."
"So how the hell did he—?"
"He walked," said Aizawa, cutting in. "That's what he does. He walks through everything."
From the side, Nezu tilted his head, whiskers twitching.
"Absolute control within a limited space," Nezu mused. "He never crossed his fingers during the event. But when he does... I suspect we'll see something quite different."
"Dangerous?" All Might asked, his voice tight but neutral.
Nezu's eyes glinted.
"Let's just say… I'm very curious what lies inside the line he doesn't draw."
---
Location: Twitter - Trending Page
#UASportsFestival
#Class1A
#WhoIsMikado
#TheCloakedOne
#HeDidntEvenRun
Clips of Mikado walking through explosions had already gone viral. Dozens of slowed-down edits. Speculation threads. A fan-drawn gif of him standing still while debris curved away from his body had already hit 200k likes.
"this dude walked thru a giant robot like it was a park stroll??? someone explain"
"i paused it at 3:17 and there's NO DUST on him. none. what the hell."
"okay but what's with the finger thing. does he have to snap or something??"
"nah it's when he crosses his fingers, i saw it in that spar last week, the guy FLINCHED"
"lowkey scared. he doesn't even look angry. he looks like he's waiting."
---
Location: Somewhere Underground
The monitor flickered in a dimly lit chamber.
Shigaraki scratched at his neck as he watched the replay—looping footage of Mikado appearing at one end of the obstacle field, then another, like a ghost flickering between film frames.
"Kurogiri," he rasped. "Pause."
The screen froze.
There he was—hands at his sides, hood brushing his shoulders, eyes lidded, indifferent.
"Who is he?"
"New student. Top rank in the first round. Very little public record."
"What's his Quirk?"
"They say Domain. But… they don't know what that means yet."
Shigaraki leaned forward.
"I like him," he whispered. "He doesn't try to win. He just exists in a way that makes everyone else look wrong."
He stood, stretching his fingers out wide.
"I want him watched. If he ever crosses those fingers on camera… I want to know what the world looks like from inside."
---
Location: U.A. Arena - Waiting Lounge
The top sixteen had been chosen. One-on-one battles would begin in the morning.
Mikado sat alone again, legs crossed on a bench, cloak draped perfectly over the edges. His fingers were steepled—not crossed, just resting against each other in contemplation.
Midoriya passed by, hesitant. The air around Mikado still felt heavier than the rest of the room. Not in temperature. Not in pressure. Just… in presence.
He sat down two benches away.
"You really don't like using your Quirk," Midoriya said quietly.
"I don't dislike it," Mikado replied without looking up.
"Then why hold back?"
Mikado opened one eye.
"Because the first time I fully activate it, I want the world to see something it doesn't forget."
Midoriya swallowed hard.
He didn't know why, but the way Mikado said it—not "me," but "it"—made something crawl up his spine.
---
Location: U.A. Arena – Announcer Booth, Minutes Later
"Tomorrow's battles will be broadcast nationwide!" Present Mic roared, voice electric. "And you can bet we'll be watching every move—especially from our top-ranked mystery man!"
He jabbed a finger toward the screen, where Mikado's still image lingered beneath the bracket chart.
"Yūgami-no-Mikado! The student who walked through a battlefield untouched! And who still hasn't shown his real Quirk!"
"Whoever draws him first," Midnight said with a smirk, "better be ready to find out what happens when he stops holding back."
---
Late that night, back at his apartment, Mikado stood on the roof alone, hood pulled back. The wind rustled the edge of his cloak.
He held his hand out.
Two fingers hovered apart.
Then slowly—deliberately—crossed.
The air hummed.
Streetlights across the block dimmed for half a second.
And in the silence, Mikado whispered to himself.
"They'll stop calling it a Quirk soon."