Yoshikage Kira was beginning to understand why the original Kira had been so obsessed with maintaining a quiet life.
It wasn't just preference. It wasn't just personality. It was the simple, unavoidable fact that other people were exhausting.
He stared at his watch as reality rewound itself for the seventh time in three days, felt the familiar sensation of Bites the Dust activating as time compressed and folded backward by one hour, and resisted the urge to scream into the void.
Izuku Midoriya, he thought with mounting frustration as the world stabilized around him, cannot keep his goddamn mouth shut.
When Yoshikage had planted Bites the Dust on the boy, he'd anticipated maybe one or two activations, maximum. Someone getting suspicious about the "journalist" who'd interviewed Izuku, perhaps a hero doing a follow-up investigation that got too close to his identity.
What he had not anticipated was that Izuku was apparently physically incapable of not over-sharing when asked literally any question about his life.
The first activation had been understandable. A teacher at Aldera Middle School, going through Izuku's recent activities after the slime villain incident, had asked if anyone had contacted him for interviews. Izuku had enthusiastically started describing "Hikaru Saito" in extensive detail—hair color, eye color, approximate height, the café where they'd met, the questions asked—and Bites the Dust had triggered, exploding the teacher and resetting the timeline.
The second activation, six hours later, had been Izuku telling his mother the exact same information.
The third had been Izuku writing about it in his hero analysis notebook, which apparently counted as "providing identifying information" enough to trigger the protection.
The fourth through seventh had been variations on the theme: Izuku telling All Might (who had apparently made contact right on schedule), Izuku telling his new U.A. classmates after the entrance exam, Izuku nearly telling a police officer during a routine Quirk registration update, and—most recently—Izuku apparently trying to research "Hikaru Saito" online to send him a thank-you message.
Each time, Bites the Dust activated. Each time, the timeline reset by one hour. Each time, Yoshikage retained his memories while everyone else forgot.
And each time, Yoshikage's respect for Izuku's analytical abilities dropped another notch.
The boy is supposed to be intelligent, Yoshikage thought, rubbing his temples as he sat in his apartment, Killer Queen manifested beside him in silent commiseration. He's supposed to have a genius-level understanding of Quirks and tactics. How is he this STUPID about operational security?
But he knew the answer, really. Izuku had spent his entire life being ignored, dismissed, treated as irrelevant. The one time someone had shown genuine interest in his perspective, had treated him like he mattered, the boy had latched onto it like a drowning man to driftwood. Of course he wanted to share that experience. Of course he wanted to tell everyone about the nice journalist who'd actually listened to him.
It was almost sad.
It was also incredibly annoying.
"I'm going to have to modify the trigger conditions," Yoshikage muttered to Killer Queen. "Make them more specific. 'Only activates if someone is actively investigating Hikaru Saito's identity with hostile intent' or something. Otherwise I'm going to be stuck in time loops forever because Midoriya has the discretion of a excited puppy."
Killer Queen tilted its head, and Yoshikage felt the Stand's quiet agreement.
He closed his eyes, focused on the bomb planted in Izuku's psyche, and carefully adjusted the parameters. It was delicate work—Bites the Dust was his most complex ability, and modifying it while active required intense concentration—but after several minutes, he felt the conditions shift and settle into their new configuration.
There, he thought. That should prevent casual mentions from triggering it while still protecting against actual investigations.
He opened his eyes, checked his watch, and confirmed that time was flowing normally again. No more loops. No more resets.
At least, not unless someone actually tried to find him.
Problem solved. Again. Now what's next on the list of incompetence I need to manage?
As if in answer, his phone buzzed with a news alert.
BREAKING: All Might Joins U.A. High School Faculty
Yoshikage stared at the notification, processing implications.
All Might at U.A. meant canon was progressing. Izuku had presumably received One For All—no time loops had triggered around that event, which meant All Might hadn't asked about the journalist interview during their training. The entrance exam had happened. The school year was beginning.
Which meant, according to his timeline calculations, the U.S.J. incident was approximately one week away.
The League of Villains' first major attack. Their debut on the national stage. The moment they tried to kill All Might and cement themselves as credible threats to Hero Society.
Yoshikage had warned them it would fail. He'd explicitly told them the heroes would be ready, that their strategy was flawed, that they needed to regroup and actually plan.
Surely they'd listened. Surely even Shigaraki, for all his childish impulses, had enough self-preservation to recognize that attacking U.A. directly was suicide.
Surely—
His phone buzzed again. This time it was an alert from one of his monitoring programs, tracking underground villain communications.
URGENT: Large-scale Nomu deployment detected. Estimated 50+ units mobilized toward Musutafu. League of Villains communications chatter indicates imminent major operation.
Yoshikage closed his eyes and counted to ten in three different languages.
They hadn't listened.
Of course they hadn't listened.
Because why would they? Why would a group of emotionally stunted, strategically incompetent criminals listen to perfectly reasonable advice from someone who'd already proven they could defeat them effortlessly?
"They're actually doing it," he said aloud, voice carefully flat. "They're actually attacking U.A. Despite everything I said. Despite being completely outmatched. Despite having no possible victory condition."
Killer Queen made a sound that might have been Stand-equivalent of a sigh.
"And this is why," Yoshikage continued, standing up and moving to his closet, "villains in this universe fail. Not because heroes are particularly competent—they're not. Not because the system is robust—it's riddled with holes. But because villains are aggressively, determinedly stupid."
He pulled out a black outfit—nondescript, easily forgotten, with a face mask and gloves—and began changing. If the League was going through with this idiocy, he needed to be there. Not to help them, god no. But to observe. To document their failure. And possibly to clean up the mess before they embarrassed the entire concept of villainy beyond recovery.
But first, he had another problem to address.
His phone had a second alert, this one from a monitoring program he'd set up at Aldera Middle School.
INCIDENT REPORT: Student altercation involving Bakugo Katsuki and Midoriya Izuku. Bakugo detained by faculty for aggressive behavior. No charges filed.
Yoshikage stared at the notification, feeling something cold and dark settle in his chest.
No charges filed.
Of course not. Because Bakugo had a powerful Quirk and a wealthy family and teachers who worshipped at the altar of genetic superiority.
And because Yoshikage's threats, apparently, hadn't been sufficient.
He'd been clear. He'd been direct. He'd demonstrated his capabilities and made explicit promises about what would happen if Bakugo continued his behavior.
And Bakugo had tested him anyway.
"Some people," Yoshikage said quietly, "only learn through experience."
He finished dressing, checked his appearance in the mirror—completely unremarkable, easily forgettable—and manifested Killer Queen beside him.
"Two stops today," he told the Stand. "First, a reminder for Bakugo about the consequences of defying direct warnings. Second, the U.S.J., to watch the League of Villains confirm everything I said about their incompetence."
Killer Queen's eyes gleamed, and Yoshikage smiled without humor.
"Let's start with Bakugo. This won't take long."
Aldera Middle School's detention room was on the third floor, a small space with barred windows and uncomfortable chairs where students who'd violated school rules sat in supervised silence until their parents collected them.
Bakugo Katsuki sat alone, arms crossed, face set in a permanent scowl, radiating fury.
The teacher supervising him—a tired-looking man with a Quirk that let him change the color of his hair—was grading papers and pointedly ignoring his charge. This was apparently routine enough that the man had brought a thermos of coffee and a stack of assignments to work through.
Yoshikage observed from outside the building, hidden in the shadow of a nearby tree, and planned his approach.
Direct confrontation was out—too many potential witnesses. But he didn't need direct confrontation. He had Killer Queen.
He watched the detention room for another ten minutes, timing the teacher's bathroom breaks and attention patterns. Then, when the man stood to use the restroom down the hall, Yoshikage moved.
Killer Queen phased through the wall—Stands could pass through solid matter when not interacting with it—and manifested inside the detention room.
Bakugo didn't see it, of course. Nobody could see Stands except other Stand users.
But he definitely felt it when Killer Queen grabbed his shoulder with invisible force.
Bakugo jumped, spinning in his chair, hands crackling with reflexive explosions. "What the—"
Killer Queen touched the desk in front of him.
It exploded silently, vaporizing completely, leaving Bakugo staring at empty air where solid wood had been seconds ago.
The color drained from his face.
"No," he whispered. "Not again. Not here. You can't—"
Killer Queen touched his chair.
Bakugo scrambled backward as the chair disappeared beneath him, tumbling to the floor, eyes wide with panic.
"I warned you," Yoshikage's voice came from everywhere and nowhere, a trick of acoustics and Killer Queen's precise manipulation of air pressure to carry sound. "I told you explicitly what would happen if you continued to bully Midoriya."
"I didn't—it wasn't—" Bakugo was backing toward the wall now, hands up, explosions dying in his palms. "It was just one time! He was being annoying and I just—"
"Just what?" Yoshikage's voice was cold. "Just attacked him again? Just proved that you learned nothing from our last conversation? Just demonstrated that you have no self-control and no respect for consequences?"
Another desk exploded. Then another. Killer Queen systematically destroying the room's furniture while remaining completely invisible, creating an atmosphere of impossible threat.
"I'm sorry!" Bakugo shouted, and there was real fear in his voice now. "Okay? I'm sorry! I won't do it again, I swear, just—"
"You're not sorry you did it," Yoshikage corrected. "You're sorry you got caught. There's a difference."
The window bars began to disappear, one by one, vaporizing with silent precision.
"Here's what's going to happen," Yoshikage continued. "You're going to transfer schools. You're going to tell your parents you want to attend a different middle school for your final term. You're going to remove yourself from Midoriya's life completely."
"I can't just—my parents won't—"
"You'll figure it out," Yoshikage said flatly. "You're supposed to be intelligent, aren't you? Creative problem-solving is part of hero work. Consider this a test."
"And if I don't?" Bakugo asked, voice shaking but defiant. "What if I tell someone about this? What if I—"
The floor beneath Bakugo's feet cracked, a perfect circle of destruction around where he stood.
"Then I stop being subtle," Yoshikage said simply. "I've been kind so far, Bakugo. I've limited myself to threats and property damage. But my patience has limits."
He let that sink in for a moment, watching through Killer Queen's senses as Bakugo processed the implications.
"You have until the end of the week to arrange the transfer," Yoshikage continued. "If by next Monday you're still attending the same school as Midoriya, I'll consider it a declaration that you prefer the hard way."
"The hard way?" Bakugo echoed.
"The way where I send all my evidence to the Hero Public Safety Commission," Yoshikage clarified. "Complete with video footage, testimony from other students, medical records showing the pattern of injuries Midoriya has sustained over the years, and a detailed analysis of how Aldera Middle School's administration has systematically enabled your behavior."
He paused, then added with casual cruelty: "U.A. High School has very strict policies about accepting students with records of violent assault and Quirk abuse. It would be a shame if your application was rejected because of something preventable."
Bakugo's face went white. "You wouldn't—"
"Try me," Yoshikage said coldly. "You have five days. Choose wisely."
Killer Queen withdrew, phasing back through the wall, and Yoshikage melted into the shadows as the supervising teacher returned from the bathroom.
Behind him, he heard Bakugo trying to explain to the confused teacher why half the detention room's furniture had disappeared.
That should do it, Yoshikage thought with grim satisfaction. Hit him where it actually hurts—his hero school admission. Self-preservation will accomplish what morality couldn't.
Now, on to the main event.
The Unforeseen Simulation Joint was exactly as he remembered from the manga: a massive training facility designed to simulate various disaster scenarios, complete with different environmental zones and state-of-the-art equipment.
It was also, currently, being invaded by approximately seventy low-level villains, one very powerful Nomu, and the core members of the League of Villains.
Yoshikage observed from the facility's upper level, having arrived ahead of both the League and the students through simple advance planning and a bit of breaking-and-entering. He'd positioned himself in the shadows of the observation deck, completely invisible to everyone below, with a perfect view of the central plaza.
Killer Queen stood beside him, equally invisible, both of them waiting for the show to begin.
They didn't have to wait long.
Kurogiri's warp gate opened in the central plaza, dark mist swirling, and villains began pouring through. Small-timers, most of them. The kind of criminals who normally robbed convenience stores or mugged civilians. Now they were being thrown at U.A. High School, against professional heroes, in an attack that had no clear objective beyond "cause chaos."
It was, Yoshikage reflected, possibly the stupidest thing he'd ever witnessed.
And he'd watched the entire final arc of My Hero Academia.
Shigaraki emerged from the portal, scratching his neck with four fingers, looking around the facility with visible anticipation.
"Where is he?" Shigaraki muttered. "Where's All Might? He's supposed to be here..."
And there's your first mistake, Yoshikage thought. Your entire plan is based on faulty intelligence. All Might isn't here. He's running late because he's already hit his time limit for the day. You brought an army to fight an enemy who won't show up.
The U.A. students arrived moments later—Class 1-A, fresh-faced and utterly unprepared for actual combat despite their hero training. Yoshikage recognized Izuku immediately, the boy's green hair distinctive even from this distance.
He also recognized several other faces from the manga. The protagonist's future classmates, most of whom would go on to be moderately successful heroes with varying degrees of character development and plot relevance.
Right now, though, they were just terrified teenagers.
"Stay together!" Eraserhead—Aizawa Shouta, their homeroom teacher—shouted, positioning himself between the students and the villains. "Thirteen, get them to safety!"
"But there's so many—" one of the students started.
"GO!"
Kurogiri warped in front of the fleeing students, mist form expanding to block their escape.
"I'm afraid we can't let you leave," the villain said politely. "This is a private matter between the League of Villains and All Might. Please remain calm and—"
Bakugo and Kirishima attacked, explosions and hardened fists striking through Kurogiri's misty body ineffectively.
Idiots, Yoshikage thought. You can't punch mist. This is basic tactical analysis.
The situation devolved rapidly. Kurogiri warped most of the students to different zones throughout the facility, scattering them. Eraserhead engaged the low-level villains in the plaza, his capture weapon and hand-to-hand skills making up for his Quirk's limitations against multiple opponents.
And Shigaraki stood in the center of it all, watching, waiting for All Might to arrive and save the day.
He's not coming, Yoshikage thought. Well, he is eventually, but not soon enough for your plan to work. You've already lost, Shigaraki. You just don't know it yet.
He watched for another few minutes, observing the chaos with clinical detachment. The students were handling themselves adequately—better than expected, really, considering this was their first real combat situation. The villains were pathetic, barely coordinated, more concerned with causing destruction than accomplishing any actual objective.
And the Nomu—the bio-engineered super-weapon that was supposed to be able to fight All Might—was just standing there, inactive, waiting for orders from Shigaraki.
What a waste, Yoshikage thought. You have a weapon specifically designed to counter the Number One Hero, with shock absorption and regeneration and multiple Quirks, and you're using it as a static guard. You could be systematically eliminating the students, forcing All Might to choose between fighting you and protecting them, creating actual tactical pressure. Instead you're waiting politely for him to arrive and fight you on his terms.
This is why you fail.
He was about to continue his internal critique when something caught his attention.
Movement in the water zone. Three students—Izuku, a girl with a frog Quirk, and a boy with something that looked like engine exhausts in his legs—were making their way back toward the central plaza.
And Izuku was muttering to himself, analyzing the situation, coming to conclusions.
Of course he is, Yoshikage thought. The boy can't help himself. Always thinking, always analyzing, never able to just shut up and follow instructions.
Then Izuku did something incredibly stupid.
He charged at Kurogiri.
The boy moved before his companions could stop him, One For All crackling around his arm—so All Might had given it to him, right on schedule—and threw a punch directly at Kurogiri's physical body, the metal brace that held his mist form together.
It was, Yoshikage had to admit, actually decent tactical analysis. Hit the solid part of a mist villain, disrupt their form, create an opening.
It was also suicidal, because Izuku was a fourteen-year-old with minimal combat training attacking a villain who could warp him into pieces.
Kurogiri reacted exactly as Yoshikage expected, opening a warp gate to redirect the punch and preparing another gate to scatter Izuku across several different zones simultaneously.
And this is where Eraserhead saves him, uses his Quirk to shut down the warp, and—
Except Eraserhead was across the plaza, buried under a pile of villains, his attention divided.
And Kurogiri's gates were opening.
And Izuku was going to be bisected by spatial distortion in approximately two seconds.
Damn it.
Yoshikage moved without thinking, Killer Queen phasing through the railing and launching itself across the plaza with Stand speed, covering the distance in a fraction of a second.
Killer Queen's fist struck Kurogiri's physical body directly, invisible impact that the villain never saw coming.
The mist villain flew backward, his warp gates collapsing, body tumbling across the ground.
Izuku stumbled, his punch hitting empty air where Kurogiri had been, and looked around in confusion.
"What just—"
"MIDORIYA!" the frog girl shouted. "Don't just stand there, move!"
The three students retreated while the villains were still processing what had happened, and Yoshikage melted back into the shadows, Killer Queen returning to his side.
Why did I do that? he wondered, annoyed with himself. I have no reason to save him. He's not my responsibility. If he dies, the story changes, but so what? I wanted the story to change.
But he knew why, really. He'd planted Bites the Dust on Izuku. The boy was, in a sense, Yoshikage's property now. A tool, a contingency plan, a walking defense mechanism.
And Yoshikage took care of his tools.
That's all it is, he told himself firmly. Protecting my investment. Nothing more.
Killer Queen's eyes seemed skeptical, but the Stand didn't comment.
Below, the battle was continuing. Eraserhead was being overwhelmed. The students were scattered and struggling. Shigaraki was getting impatient, scratching his neck harder, demanding to know where All Might was.
And the Nomu was still just standing there.
This is pathetic, Yoshikage thought. This is supposed to be a major villain organization's debut, and it's just... sad.
He'd seen enough.
Time to make an appearance.
Yoshikage dropped from the observation deck with Killer Queen controlling his descent, landing silently in the central plaza about thirty meters from where Shigaraki was having what appeared to be a breakdown.
"Where is he?!" Shigaraki was shouting at Kurogiri, scratching his neck frantically. "You said All Might would be here! You said the schedule was confirmed! WHERE IS HE?!"
"There may have been a miscalculation," Kurogiri said carefully, still recovering from Killer Queen's invisible punch. "The intelligence suggested—"
"I don't CARE what the intelligence suggested!" Shigaraki interrupted. "I want All Might! I want to kill All Might! That's the WHOLE POINT!"
"Perhaps we should retreat and—"
"NO!"
Yoshikage cleared his throat.
Both villains spun toward him, Shigaraki's hands already raised, Kurogiri's mist form roiling with defensive energy.
"You," Shigaraki hissed, recognition dawning. "You're that guy from the bar. The one who—"
"The one who warned you this would fail," Yoshikage finished, walking forward calmly, hands in his pockets. "Yes. Hello again. I see you ignored my advice."
"How did you get in here?" Kurogiri demanded. "The facility was secured, the heroes have countermeasures—"
"I walked in the front door three hours ago," Yoshikage said simply. "Your security is a joke. But that's not important right now. What's important is that you're currently in the middle of a catastrophically failed operation, and you need to make a decision about whether to cut your losses or commit to complete disaster."
"This isn't a failure," Shigaraki said, but his voice was uncertain. "All Might will come. He has to come. And when he does, Nomu will—"
"Nomu will fight him, yes," Yoshikage agreed. "And then what? Even if your bio-weapon manages to stalemate or defeat All Might—which is optimistic given that you've never actually tested it against him—what's your exit strategy? How do you escape when every hero in the prefecture is en route to this location? How do you extract your forces when you've scattered them across multiple zones with no coordination?"
Shigaraki opened his mouth, then closed it.
"You don't have answers," Yoshikage observed. "Because you didn't plan beyond 'attack U.A. and kill All Might.' There's no strategy, no contingency, no actual thought put into this."
"Sensei said—"
"Sensei told you what you wanted to hear," Yoshikage interrupted. "He gave you a target and a weapon and let you fill in the details yourself, knowing you'd make mistakes, knowing you'd fail, because that's how he teaches. Through failure and trauma and near-death experiences."
He looked around the plaza, at the scattered villains, the struggling heroes, the chaos.
"And this is a failure," he continued. "You've committed seventy villains to an attack that has accomplished nothing except alerting Hero Society to your existence. You've revealed your teleportation capabilities, your bio-engineering, your organizational structure. You've given the heroes intelligence while gaining nothing in return."
"We've hurt them," Shigaraki insisted. "We've shown we're a threat—"
"You've shown you're a nuisance," Yoshikage corrected. "There's a difference. A threat would have achieved an objective. A nuisance just causes property damage and gets cleaned up."
Kurogiri shifted uneasily. "Perhaps we should listen—"
"No," Shigaraki said firmly. "No more retreating. No more planning. I'm tired of waiting. Nomu!"
The bio-engineered creature's head turned toward its master.
"Kill him," Shigaraki ordered, pointing at Yoshikage. "Kill this smug bastard, then we'll wait for All Might together."
Yoshikage sighed. "Really? This is your response to constructive criticism? Siccing your super-weapon on someone trying to help you?"
"You're not trying to help," Shigaraki said. "You're trying to make me feel weak. Just like everyone else. Just like society. Just like—"
"Oh, shut up," Yoshikage said tiredly. "I'm not your therapist and I'm not interested in your victim complex. If you want to waste your Nomu fighting me instead of accomplishing anything productive, fine. But don't pretend this is about anything except your ego."
Nomu attacked.
The creature moved with shocking speed, crossing thirty meters in less than a second, its muscular arm swinging toward Yoshikage with enough force to pulverize concrete.
Killer Queen caught the fist.
To observers—and by now, several students and villains were watching—it looked like Yoshikage had simply raised his hand and stopped the Nomu's attack with his bare palm. The invisible Stand between them, the actual force doing the blocking, was completely imperceptible.
Nomu pulled back and attacked again, a flurry of punches that should have overwhelmed any defense.
Killer Queen deflected each one with casual precision, invisible fists meeting bio-engineered muscle, neither giving ground.
"Interesting," Yoshikage said, analyzing the creature even as he defended. "Shock absorption, super strength, regeneration. Multiple Quirks integrated into a single body. Impressive engineering, even if the ethics are horrifying."
He ducked under a particularly wild swing and Killer Queen struck back, a precise blow to Nomu's solar plexus that should have folded the creature in half.
The Nomu absorbed the impact, its shock-absorption Quirk distributing the force harmlessly, and regenerated the minor damage instantly.
"And there's the problem," Yoshikage continued, still perfectly calm. "You've created a weapon specifically to counter All Might's strength-based attacks. But what about everything else?"
Killer Queen touched the Nomu's extended arm.
Nothing happened.
The Nomu attacked again, and Yoshikage dodged, frowning.
Interesting. Killer Queen's primary bomb doesn't seem to work on living beings in this universe. Or perhaps it's specific to the Nomu? Some kind of defense against Quirks that directly affect the body?
He filed that information away for later analysis and tried a different approach.
Killer Queen grabbed Nomu's arm and threw the creature—not with strength alone, but with perfect leverage and technique, using the Nomu's own momentum against it.
The bio-weapon crashed into the plaza's fountain, shattering stone and sending water everywhere.
"Sheer Heart Attack," Yoshikage said quietly, and Killer Queen's left hand detached, forming into the miniature tank-like Stand.
SHA rolled forward with its characteristic whirring sound, heading directly toward the Nomu—the hottest heat signature in the immediate area thanks to its overactive metabolism.
The Nomu stood, water streaming off its body, and faced the approaching Stand.
SHA detonated on contact.
The explosion was loud, a concussive blast that shook the entire facility and sent students screaming. When the smoke cleared, the Nomu was missing its left arm and a significant portion of its torso.
For about three seconds.
Then the damage regenerated, flesh knitting itself back together with disturbing speed, and the Nomu was whole again.
"Incredible regeneration," Yoshikage observed. "Even direct explosive damage recovers almost instantly. The bio-engineering on this is genuinely impressive."
SHA had already reconstituted itself on Killer Queen's hand, ready to be deployed again.
"But regeneration isn't the same as invincibility," Yoshikage continued. "It has limits. Energy requirements, cellular fatigue, damage thresholds. If I keep destroying it faster than it can regenerate—"
"NOMU!" Shigaraki screamed. "STOP PLAYING WITH HIM AND KILL HIM!"
The Nomu's eyes focused with new intensity, and its attacks became more aggressive, less predictable.
Yoshikage was forced to actually pay attention now, Killer Queen blocking and dodging with increasing effort.
Fast, he thought. Much faster than the manga suggested. And the strength is genuinely impressive. If I didn't have Killer Queen, this thing would have killed me in the first exchange.
But he did have Killer Queen, and more importantly, he had intelligence.
He let the Nomu push him back, appearing to struggle, drawing its attention completely. Then, when it committed to a particularly powerful overhead smash, Killer Queen dodged to the side and touched the ground beneath the Nomu.
The entire section of floor became a bomb.
Yoshikage detonated it.
The explosion sent the Nomu flying upward, its lower body completely vaporized. It crashed down twenty meters away, already regenerating but temporarily incapacitated.
"The problem with creating a weapon that can only follow simple orders," Yoshikage said, not even breathing hard, "is that it can't adapt to unconventional tactics. It's strong, yes. Durable, yes. But stupid."
He turned to face Shigaraki, who was staring at him with wide eyes.
"Just like its master," Yoshikage added.
Shigaraki's face contorted with rage. "I'm going to kill you. I'm going to dust you and scatter the particles and—"
"You're going to retreat," Yoshikage interrupted, "because All Might just arrived."
And indeed, the distinctive sound of the Number One Hero's entrance—a door being smashed open with excessive force—echoed through the facility.
"I AM HERE!" All Might's voice boomed, and Yoshikage had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the sheer dramatic excess.
The Symbol of Peace stood in the entrance, muscles bulging, cape billowing despite the lack of wind, expression set in that trademark smile that was somehow both reassuring and vaguely threatening.
He took in the scene: the scattered students, the wounded Eraserhead, the destroyed plaza, the villains, and Yoshikage standing calmly in the middle of it all.
"VILLAINS!" All Might declared. "Your reign of terror ends NOW!"
"Oh god, he's monologuing," Yoshikage muttered. "Kurogiri, if you have any sense of self-preservation, you'll open a portal and evacuate your forces immediately."
"But Nomu—" Kurogiri started.
"Nomu was designed to fight All Might at full power," Yoshikage said quickly, urgently. "Look at him. Really look at him. Does he look like he's at full power?"
Kurogiri's mist form shifted, and Yoshikage could tell the villain was actually paying attention now, analyzing All Might with tactical precision.
And there were signs, if you knew what to look for. All Might's breathing was slightly labored. His smile was a touch forced. His muscles, while impressive, weren't quite as bulging as they should be.
"He's already past his time limit for the day," Yoshikage said. "He's running on fumes and willpower. If you fight him now, you might actually win. But you won't, because Shigaraki will make a mistake, or All Might will pull off something unexpected, or reinforcements will arrive. There are too many variables."
"We have to try," Shigaraki said, but his voice was uncertain now. "Sensei said—"
"Sensei isn't here," Yoshikage said flatly. "And he won't save you if this goes wrong. Make the smart choice, Shigaraki. Retreat. Preserve your forces. Learn from this failure and come back stronger."
For a long moment, Shigaraki stood frozen, scratching his neck frantically, trying to decide.
Then All Might moved, crossing the distance to the nearest group of villains in a single leap, and the decision was made for him.
"Kurogiri," Shigaraki said reluctantly. "Get us out. All of us. Now."
"But the objective—"
"NOW!"
Dark mist swirled through the facility, portals opening beneath every villain simultaneously. The low-level criminals vanished, extracted to safety. The Nomu—still regenerating from its last injury—was pulled through a larger portal.
And Shigaraki, Kurogiri, and the handful of core members disappeared just as All Might reached their position.
The Symbol of Peace's fist slammed into empty ground, creating a crater but hitting nothing.
He spun around, looking for targets, and his eyes landed on Yoshikage.
Who was still standing calmly in the middle of the destroyed plaza, hands in his pockets, completely unharmed.
"YOU!" All Might said, pointing dramatically. "Are you with the villains?!"
"No," Yoshikage said simply. "I'm a civilian who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"A civilian who was fighting a Nomu," All Might said skeptically. "I saw the end of that battle. You have significant combat capabilities."
"I have a good Quirk and better training," Yoshikage said with a shrug. "Neither of which are illegal. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to leave before more villains show up or this building collapses."
"I'm afraid I can't let you leave until we've—"
Yoshikage sighed.
This was going to be complicated.
The aftermath of the U.S.J. incident was, predictably, a bureaucratic nightmare.
Yoshikage was detained for questioning—not arrested, but definitely not free to leave—while heroes and police tried to figure out who he was, what he'd been doing there, and whether he was a threat.
He provided his identification: Hikaru Saito, twenty-two, freelance journalist. He'd been investigating rumors of a potential attack on U.A. for a story. He'd arrived early to scout the location. When the villains appeared, he'd hidden and observed until the Nomu attacked him directly, forcing him to defend himself.
It was a plausible story. Not great, but plausible.
The heroes were suspicious—showing up to an active villain attack was odd, and his combat capabilities were definitely above civilian average—but they couldn't prove anything. He hadn't broken any laws, hadn't attacked any heroes, had technically been defending himself.
And when they tried to verify his story, checking backgrounds and credentials, they found exactly what Yoshikage had prepared: a complete digital footprint for Hikaru Saito, including published articles, social media history, and educational records.
After six hours of questioning, they reluctantly let him go with a warning not to investigate dangerous situations in the future.
Yoshikage agreed politely, collected his belongings, and left.
He made it three blocks before Bites the Dust activated.
Oh, for the love of—
Time rewound. The timeline reset. Yoshikage retained his memories while everyone else forgot.
When reality stabilized, he was back at the U.S.J., still being questioned, and he realized what had happened.
Someone had asked Izuku about the journalist who'd interviewed him. Izuku had started to describe "Hikaru Saito." The bomb had triggered.
Of course, Yoshikage thought wearily. Of course Midoriya would mention the interview during his own questioning. Why wouldn't he? The boy shares everything.
He adjusted Bites the Dust's parameters again, making them even more specific, and the loop stopped.
The questioning proceeded exactly as before, and this time nobody asked Izuku about journalists.
Six hours later, Yoshikage was released.
He returned to his apartment, made tea, and sat down to process the day's events.
The League of Villains had confirmed everything he'd thought about them: incompetent, poorly coordinated, driven by emotion rather than strategy. They'd had overwhelming force and every advantage, and they'd still failed to accomplish any meaningful objective.
Bakugo had proven he would only respond to threats that directly impacted his goals. Moral arguments meant nothing; the possibility of losing his hero school admission had been the only effective leverage.
And Izuku... Izuku was going to be a problem. The boy was too talkative, too analytical, too prone to over-sharing. Bites the Dust would protect Yoshikage's identity, but it was a reactive measure, not a preventative one.
I need to either remove the bomb or find a way to make Midoriya more discreet, Yoshikage thought. The constant time loops are going to drive me insane.
But removing Bites the Dust meant losing his best contingency plan. And making Izuku more discreet would require direct intervention, which meant more contact, which meant more risk of exposure.
No good options, he concluded. Just varying degrees of problematic.
Killer Queen manifested beside him, and Yoshikage looked at the Stand thoughtfully.
"We need a new approach," he said aloud. "The League of Villains is too stupid to work with. Bakugo is too volatile to predict. And the heroes are too entrenched to reform from within."
He sipped his tea, mind working through possibilities.
"I think," he said slowly, "it's time to stop reacting to this universe's nonsense and start being proactive. If the existing villains won't be competent, if the heroes won't hold themselves accountable, if society won't change on its own..."
He smiled, and it wasn't pleasant.
"Then I'll have to apply more direct pressure."
Killer Queen's eyes gleamed in agreement.
"Tomorrow," Yoshikage decided. "Tomorrow we start making real moves. No more warnings. No more demonstrations. Tomorrow, we show Hero Society what a real villain looks like."
He finished his tea, set down the cup, and began planning.
The games were over.
Now the real work began.
And this universe had no idea what was coming.
Let's see how they handle someone who actually uses their brain, Yoshikage thought. Let's see how their precious heroes fare against an enemy they can't see, can't predict, and can't counter.
Let's see if they're as heroic as they claim when the real test begins.
Killer Queen stood beside him in the darkness, silent and ready.
And Yoshikage Kira smiled.
The quiet life was officially over.
Time to make some noise.