He spun, blade already drawn, and thrust backward.
SHNK!
The katana pierced through swirling darkness.
A portal.
Pitch black, edges warping like liquid shadow.
Stain's grip tightened as the blade sank deeper into the void, meeting no resistance.
From within the darkness, a voice emerged sounding calm and polite.
"Greetings, Hero Killer."
The portal solidified slightly, revealing a figure composed entirely of black mist. Two glowing yellow eyes stared out.
"May I have a moment of your time."
Stain didn't lower his blade.
"Who are you?"
The mist-figure didn't move.
"My name is Kurogiri." The mist-figure didn't move despite the blade piercing through its form. "I've come on behalf of someone who wishes to speak with you."
"I don't take meetings." Stain pulled his katana free. The blade came away clean without a drop of blood.
"I thought you might say that." The yellow eyes shifted slightly. "Which is why I came personally."
Stain's grip tightened on his weapon. "As you can see, I don't have time for this. Get to the point."
"My employer sends you an invitation."
"An invitation to what?"
"To a conversation. Nothing more." Kurogiri's form rippled. "My employer has been watching your work with great interest. He believes your ideals align with his own goals."
"I work alone."
"So we've observed." Kurogiri inclined what passed for a head. "But perhaps you've noticed... the world is not kind to those who operate alone. Especially those being actively hunted."
Stain said nothing.
Kurogiri continued.
"Tonight, you encountered an obstacle. A masked individual who interfered with your mission. Ingenium survived because of him."
Stain's jaw clenched.
"You know about that."
"We know many things, Hero Killer. That man is on our radar as well." Kurogiri's tone remained pleasant. "And we can offer you resources. Information. Support to continue your crusade with help and without interference. All you need to do is here is out."
"I don't need help."
"Don't you?" The yellow eyes gleamed. "You're injured. Surrounded by heroes actively searching for you. Your movements tracked."
Stain's silence stretched.
Kurogiri pressed gently.
"My employer doesn't wish to control you. He simply believes that your goals—purging false heroes from society—complement his own vision for change."
"And what vision is that?"
"One where the corrupt system that props up these false heroes is dismantled entirely." Kurogiri's voice dropped slightly.
Stain pointed his katana at Kurogiri's eyes.
"Who is your employer?"
"Someone who shares your disdain for the current state of hero society." Kurogiri's form shifted. "Someone who has the means to ensure your work continues uninterrupted."
"Then he can come to me himself."
"He anticipated that response," Kurogiri said smoothly. "Which is why—"
"No."
Kurogiri stilled.
"No?"
"I don't follow anyone. I don't work for anyone." Stain's voice was cold. "And I certainly don't walk into portals for strangers promising power."
"This is merely—"
"I just failed." Stain's tone didn't change. "Ingenium is alive because some masked nobody interfered. And now you appear, knowing things you shouldn't, offering help I didn't ask for."
He stepped forward.
"How convenient."
Kurogiri's form solidified slightly. "I assure you, we had nothing to do with—"
"I don't care." Stain's eyes were hard. "Hosu is crawling with heroes right now. And you want me to trust you enough to follow you through that portal?"
"If you would simply—"
"Get out."
Silence.
The yellow eyes regarded him for a long moment.
"My employer will be disappointed."
"He'll get over it."
"You're making this more difficult than it needs to be, Hero Killer."
"Good." Stain's grip didn't waver. "Difficult is how it should be. If your employer wants to talk, and your resources are as good as you say, he'll know where to find me."
Kurogiri's form began to shift, the portal edges pulling inward.
"Very well. But know this—the offer stands. When you're ready to accept reality, we'll be waiting."
"Don't hold your breath."
The darkness swirled one final time.
"We'll be in touch, Hero Killer. Sooner than you think."
And then he was gone.
The rooftop fell silent.
Stain stood alone, katana still raised, blood dripping from his wounds.
He lowered the blade slowly.
'First that masked man, and now this ... Which means people have been watching me. Probably have been for a while.'
He looked down at his bandaged wounds, at the blood soaking through the gauze.
'But I'm not desperate enough to trust shadows offering power.'
"Cowards," He sheathed his katana and moved toward the fire escape, eyes blazing with renewed fury.
"False heroes. Hidden puppeteers."
Finally vanishing into the shadows.
"I'll cut you all down."
__
U.A High, Class 1A
The classroom was quieter than usual.
Aizawa stood at the front, arms in his signature capture scarf, most of his body still wrapped in bandages from the USJ incident.
"Your performances at the Sports Festival were... acceptable."
That was probably the closest thing to praise anyone would get from him.
"Some of you exceeded expectations. Others confirmed my initial assessments." His gaze swept the room. "And one of you refused to accept a gold medal while chained to a podium."
Bakugo, sitting in his usual spot, had the gold medal stuffed in his mouth like a gag. His eyes were murderous, but he didn't move.
Several students glanced at him nervously.
Aizawa continued as if this were completely normal.
"Over the next two days, you'll be on break. Use that time to rest and recover. When you return, we'll begin discussing internships."
Murmurs rippled through the class.
"Internships?" Kaminari perked up. "Already?"
"The Sports Festival exists to showcase your abilities to Pro Heroes," Aizawa explained. "Based on your performances, agencies will send offers. You'll choose one and spend a week learning from a working Pro."
"How many offers do we usually get?" Mina asked.
"That depends entirely on your performance." Aizawa pulled up a screen showing a bar graph. "Historically, top performers receive dozens. Others receive fewer."
"These numbers will be finalized after the break," Aizawa said. "For now, go home. Rest. Don't do anything stupid."
His eyes landed on specific students as he said that last part.
Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugo all felt the weight of that stare.
"Dismissed."
Aizawa left without another word.
The moment the door closed, the tension broke.
"Damn. That was intense."
"I can't believe we'll be going on Internships soon."
"I know. Bakugo and Todoroki are so gonna get the most offers. Right Bakugo?"
Bakugo didn't respond. The medal remained in his mouth.
"Uh... Bakugo?" Kirishima tried again. "You okay, man?"
CLANG!
The gold medal hit the desk with a sharp metallic sound.
Everyone froze.
Bakugo stood slowly, chair scraping back.
His eyes locked onto Midoriya with that terrifying intensity that made half the class flinch.
"Deku."
Midoriya's blood ran cold.
"Y-Yes?"
"Tell me how to get to Class 1-D."
[U.A. High School - Class 1-D - General Studies Department]
Yuta sat at his desk, surrounded.
Not metaphorically.
Literally surrounded.
His entire class had gathered around his seat the moment homeroom started, forming a chaotic crowd of excited, curious, and slightly intimidated students.
"Dude, you made it to the FINALS!"
"You beat Todoroki! TODOROKI!"
"How did you do that thing where you disappeared?!"
"Was that teleportation or super speed?!"
"Why did you forfeit?! You could've won!"
Hana, Kimura, and Tanaka, had claimed the spots closest to his desk, acting as a buffer between him and the more aggressive questioners.
"Guys, give him some space," Hana said, though she looked just as eager for answers.
"Space? SPACE?!" A student from the back shouted. "He just became the most famous General Studies student in U.A. history and you want us to give him SPACE?!"
"Technically second-most famous," Kimura corrected, pushing his glasses up. "Remember that guy from three years ago who—"
"Nobody cares about that guy!" someone interrupted.
Tanaka leaned in, grinning. "So. Spill. What was it like fighting Bakugo?"
"Loud," Yuta said flatly.
The class erupted in laughter.
"But seriously," Hana pressed. "Why did you forfeit? You were still standing!"
"I was out of stamina." Yuta shrugged. "Pushing further would've been stupid."
"But you made it to the finals!" another student protested. "Don't you want to be number one?!"
"Not really."
Silence.
Everyone stared at him.
"...What?" someone finally said.
"That's SO BORING!" Tanaka groaned. "Come on, man! You had the whole country watching! You could've been a legend!"
"I'm fine with second place."
"SECOND PLACE ISN'T—"
"EVERYONE SIT DOWN!"
The door slammed open.
Mrs. Nakamura, stood in the doorway with her arms crossed and an expression that could curdle milk.
The class scrambled back to their seats in record time.
She walked to the front of the room.
"Well. That was quite the spectacle."
A few students shifted uncomfortably.
"Akutami." Her gaze landed on Yuta. "Stand up."
Yuta stood.
Mrs. Nakamura regarded him for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
"Congratulations. You've done what no General Studies student has accomplished in over a decade—reached the tournament finals and secured a transfer to the Hero Course."
The class erupted in applause.
Yuta remained standing.
"However," Mrs. Nakamura continued, and the applause died down. "Don't let this go to your head. You forfeited. You didn't win. Remember that."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Sit down."
Yuta sat.
Mrs. Nakamura turned to address the entire class.
"The rest of you performed adequately. Some better than others. But remember—this was one event. One day. Your futures are not defined by a single tournament."
She paused.
"That said, those of you who made it past the first round should expect some attention. Not Hero Course levels, but enough to open doors if you choose to pursue them."
A few students perked up at that.
"Now." Mrs. Nakamura clapped her hands once. "There will be no school for the next two days. Use that time to rest, recover, and reflect on your performances."
She glanced at Yuta.
"Especially you, Akutami. I expect you'll be busy with transfer paperwork when we return."
"Understood."
"Good. Class dismissed."
The moment she left, the room exploded into conversation again.
But before anyone could swarm Yuta's desk a second time, the door opened.
And Bakugo Katsuki walked in.
The room went dead silent.
Bakugo's eyes swept the classroom, landing immediately on Yuta.
"You."
Yuta waved.
"...Hi?"
"Outside. Now."
__
Enjoying the story? Want to read ahead?
Support the novel and unlock early access to unreleased chapters by joining my Patreon!
💧 WATER TIER (5$) – Read 3 chapters ahead of public releases
🌍 EARTH TIER ($7) – Read 5 chapters ahead, with bonus lore, author notes, and behind-the-scenes content
🔥 FIRE TIER ($10) – Read 8 chapters ahead, get full access to all extras, and vote in exclusive polls for bonus content
📎 Patreon.com/Future805
Even a small pledge makes a huge difference — thank you for reading