Location: The Underbelly – Sector 7 Slums
Date: Sometime Before the Fight | 01:00 PM
KICK.
CLATTER.
An empty energy drink can bounced off a brick wall and spun into the wet gutter.
Dabi walked out of the dimly lit basement bar he had been using as a hideout for his new crew.
He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his dark coat.
The air down here smelled like garbage and cheap cigarettes, but he didn't care. He just needed to get out of that room.
If he had to look at that TV screen for one more minute, he was going to burn the entire building down with everyone inside it.
'Keeping Up with the Todorokis.'
Just thinking the title made the staples in his jaw itch.
He had watched the newest broadcast playing on the bar's mounted screen.
He watched his father—the man who had driven him to literally burn himself alive—wearing a stupid, domestic sweater.
He watched him sit at a dinner table and awkwardly ask Fuyumi about her day.
'A sweater? Really? The guy who burned me to ash is wearing a knit sweater and asking about college classes?' Dabi thought, his lips curling into a disgusted sneer. 'What a sick joke.'
STEP. STEP.
He kept walking, pulling his black suit up against the cold wind.
The fake smiles on that TV screen made his stomach turn.
It always pulled him back to the past.
Three years.
That was how long he had slept in that hidden, sterile room after Sekoto Peak.
When he finally woke up, he was sixteen. His skin was gone, replaced by horrific patches of purple, dead flesh held together by surgical staples.
But his first thought hadn't been revenge. It had been an apology.
'I just wanted to go home,' Dabi remembered, looking down at his scarred hands. 'I was going to tell him I survived. I was going to tell him I was sorry. What a stupid, pathetic kid I was.'
He remembered running through the rain that night. He remembered reaching the massive stone walls of the Todoroki Estate. He remembered looking through the wooden gates, fully expecting his father to be mourning him.
Instead, he saw Endeavor standing in the courtyard.
The flaming man was towering over a young kid with half-red, half-white hair. Shoto. The masterpiece.
Endeavor was screaming at the boy, his eyes burning with that exact same, suffocating obsession that had killed Toya.
'He didn't even care,' Dabi thought, his turquoise eyes going cold. 'He didn't skip a beat. He just printed out a new version. A better version.'
Toya died standing in the rain that night. Dabi was born.
For the next few years, life was just survival. His quirk was a curse.
Every time he ignited the blue fire, it ate away at his own flesh. His body was rejecting his power. He was a walking corpse on a countdown.
Until that night in the alleyway near the Central Tokyo Hospital.
Dabi stopped walking for a second. He pulled his right hand out of his pocket and stared at his palm.
He remembered the blinding pain. He remembered the blue fire melting the asphalt, ready to consume him for good.
And then... the man in the pristine white suit had stepped out of the shadows.
Hero X.
The guy didn't flinch at the heat. He didn't give some preachy, self-righteous hero speech. He just raised his hand.
SNAP.
Dabi clenched his fist. He could still feel the exact moment it happened.
The agonizing heat in his blood had just... settled.
The cellular rejection stopped. That man had rewritten his ruined nervous system with a single gesture, forcing his body to finally accept the cooling quirk he had inherited from his mother.
"Live on. The world is much bigger than you think."
Those two words were the only reason Dabi was breathing right now. He owed that man his life.
He had spent the last few months gathering street thugs, building a small turf, and waiting.
Waiting for the right moment to tear Endeavor's fake, televised life apart.
CRUNCH.
Dabi stepped over a broken chain-link fence, finally reaching Ward 4.
This was an abandoned industrial lot. A dead zone. It was his usual spot to smoke, cool his head, and get away from the noise of the slums.
But as he walked closer to the main warehouse, he paused.
CRASH.
The heavy sound of shattering ice echoed from inside the rusted metal building.
"What's going on?" Dabi frowned.
Whoosh.
He slipped through a gap in the corrugated steel siding, moving silently into the shadows of the massive room.
He climbed a rusted ladder up to the steel catwalks near the ceiling and looked down.
HUUUF.
His breath hitched.
It was them.
Endeavor and Shoto. Right here.
Dabi gripped the cold steel railing of the catwalk, his knuckles turning white.
His eyes locked onto the massive, flaming figure of his father.
He watched them spar. He watched the ice fly and the fists swing.
THUMP-THUMP.
Dabi's heart hammered in his chest.
He waited for it.
He waited for Endeavor to start screaming. He waited for the old man to kick Shoto while he was down, to force him to vomit, to look at him with that disgusting, demanding glare.
But it didn't happen.
Endeavor stopped. He crossed his arms. He corrected Shoto's footwork. He was actually... teaching him. Calmly.
Dabi's eyes widened.
'No way,' Dabi thought, his mind racing. 'The TV show wasn't just a script? He's actually trying to change? He's actually trying to be a father to the masterpiece?'
A raw, suffocating hatred bubbled up in Dabi's throat.
The hypocrisy was sickening. It burned worse than his own blue fire.
'Why now?' Dabi's grip on the railing bent the steel. 'Why for him? Why couldn't you do that for me?!'
Down below, Shoto stood up and wiped the sweat from his face.
"Can you defeat Hero X, then?" Shoto asked.
Dabi froze.
Hearing that name, the name of his savior, spoken so casually by the little replacement who had stolen his life... it snapped whatever thin thread of control Dabi had left.
"HAHAHAHA."
A dry, raspy laugh clawed its way up Dabi's throat. He couldn't hold it in.
He stepped off the edge of the catwalk and dropped.
_-_-_-_-_
Location: Abandoned Industrial Lot – Ward 4
Date: Present Day | 02:05 PM
"AZURE FIRE FIST!"
FWOOSH.
A massive, concentrated blast of blue fire shot across the warehouse, screaming straight toward Endeavor.
The heat was so intense it instantly evaporated the remaining frost on the concrete floor.
Endeavor didn't step back. He dug his boots in and stepped forward.
BAM.
Endeavor threw a heavy, concentrated right hook directly into the center of the incoming wave.
The orange fire from his fist collided violently with the blue inferno.
BOOOOM.
CRASH-CLANG.
A shockwave of pure thermal energy ripped through the warehouse, shattering the high windows.
SKRRRT.
Endeavor's boots skidded backward a few inches, leaving thick black scorch marks on the floor.
He gritted his teeth. The blue fire was hotter. Much hotter.
It felt like sticking his bare arm into a blast furnace.
But Endeavor was heavier, and he had thirty years of combat experience.
He twisted his wrist, forcing the blue flames to split and disperse outward, deflecting the lethal heat away from Shoto, who was standing behind him.
"You have a powerful quirk," Endeavor growled, the flames on his face flaring up. "But you lack technique!"
Endeavor didn't wait. He raised his right hand, his fingers spread wide.
FSSSH.
Five thin, hyper-concentrated whips of orange fire shot from his fingertips.
Hell Spider.
The beams sliced through the air, melting the steel support beams of the warehouse as they tracked straight toward the masked man.
Dabi didn't panic.
He sprinted through the dissipating smoke, his black suit blending into the shadows.
He raised his own hand, spreading his fingers.
SWISH. SWISH.
Five thin, highly concentrated whips of blue fire shot from Dabi's fingertips.
The blue and orange whips clashed in mid-air.
CRACKLE. HISS.
Sparks rained down like fireworks as the beams whipped and wrapped around each other.
Endeavor's eyes widened slightly.
The kid wasn't just throwing fire.
He was actively reading Endeavor's muscle movements and copying the exact focal points of the Hell Spider technique.
Endeavor cut the whips and lunged forward, closing the distance in a fraction of a second.
His right arm was completely engulfed in a roaring, spiraling flame.
"Flashfire Fist: Jet Burn!" Endeavor roared, throwing a devastating punch right at Dabi's chest.
Dabi mirrored the stance perfectly. His own arm spiraled with a sickeningly bright blue flame.
SLAM.
Their fists collided.
The impact cracked the concrete beneath them.
The blue fire instantly melted the sleeve of Endeavor's shirt, singing the skin underneath. Dabi's flames were burning right through Endeavor's natural heat resistance.
But Dabi's physical frame was too light. Endeavor pushed his weight forward, breaking Dabi's stance and forcing the younger man to stumble back.
Before Dabi could recover, Endeavor reached out and grabbed his leg, his massive hand clamping down like an iron vice.
"You dare use my own moves against me, boy?" Endeavor snarled, his eyes narrowing in furious recognition.
Dabi gritted his teeth.
The grafted skin on his leg was smoking from Endeavor's grip, but he forced a cocky, arrogant smirk onto his face.
"Your moves are very easy to replicate, Endeavor," Dabi mocked, his raspy voice echoing in the large space. "They're just brute force."
FWOOSH.
BAAAM.
Dabi blasted a burst of blue fire directly from his trapped leg, point-blank.
Endeavor was forced to release him or risk a severe third-degree burn on his hand.
Dabi flipped backward, landing lightly on his feet about twenty yards away.
Standing near the back wall, Shoto watched the fight with wide eyes.
The blue fire. He knew that fire. He had seen blurry, shaky videos on an underground vigilante web forum.
A guy in the slums who burned drug dealers and human traffickers to ash. It was him.
Dabi stood up straight. He looked at his hands, then looked at Endeavor.
'The old man was an absolute tank. Raw power and mirrored techniques weren't going to break through thirty years of muscle memory and sheer bulk'
"Then" Dabi casually reached up and adjusted his black tie, fixing the collar of his suit.
"I will use this move in tribute to the strongest man alive," Dabi said.
Endeavor tensed.
He recognized the posture. The familiarity.
Dabi raised his right hand. He positioned his thumb and middle finger together.
SNAP.
The sound was sharp. Unnaturally loud in the echoing warehouse.
CRAACKLE.
A tiny spark ignited the air right next to Endeavor's left ear.
It didn't travel from Dabi's hand like a fireball. It simply bypassed the distance, igniting the oxygen directly on the target.
KABOOM.
A concussive, explosive blast hit the side of Endeavor's head, staggering the massive hero to the side.
"What?!" Endeavor grunted, his ears ringing loudly.
It wasn't a standard fire blast. It was an ignition spark causing a localized explosion.
Shoto panicked. Seeing his father stumble, the twelve-year-old acted on pure instinct.
"Old man!" Shoto yelled.
He slammed his right foot into the ground.
CRACK-RUMBLE.
A massive, jagged glacier of ice tore across the warehouse floor, hurtling straight toward Dabi to crush him against the far wall.
Dabi didn't even look at the boy. He simply raised his left hand toward the incoming ice, rubbing his fingers together.
SNAP.
KABOOM.
The explosion went off directly inside the center of the glacier.
The massive ice structure shattered into a million pieces of harmless frost.
"Uggh!"
The shockwave of the blast hit Shoto squarely in the chest, pushing the boy backward until he hit the ground and rolled.
"Stay out of it, masterpiece," Dabi sneered without looking back.
Dabi turned his attention back to Endeavor.
The old man was just recovering his balance. Dabi raised both hands, his eyes wide and manic.
SNAP. SNAP. SNAP. SNAP.
BOOM. BOOM. KABOOM. BOOM.
Dabi walked forward, his fingers snapping in a relentless, rhythmic tempo.
Chain explosions detonated all around Endeavor.
There was no time to dodge. There was no trajectory to track.
Every time Dabi's fingers clicked, the air right next to Endeavor violently combusted.
SNAP. BOOM.
SNAP. BOOM.
The concrete floor cratered.
Thick, black smoke filled the center of the warehouse, completely obscuring the Number Three hero.
The sound of the blasts echoed like heavy artillery fire, shaking the dust from the rafters.
HUFF-PUFF.
Dabi finally lowered his hands, breathing heavily. A thin trail of smoke drifted off his fingertips.
He stared into the thick black cloud, waiting for the heavy thud of Endeavor's body hitting the floor.
Step.
Step.
"Don't worry, Shoto."
The voice cut through the smoke. It wasn't pained. It wasn't weak. It was perfectly calm.
"I told you we came here because I wanted to show you something."
WHOOSH.
The black smoke didn't blow away. It was sucked inward, incinerated by an intense, radiating heat.
Dabi took a step back, his turquoise eyes widening in shock.
Endeavor stepped out of the crater. He wasn't bleeding. He wasn't burned.
He was glowing.
There were no massive, uncontrollable flames shooting from his shoulders or his face. Instead, his entire body was radiating a blinding, white-hot light from the inside out.
FWIISH. CRACCKLE-SWIISH.
The concrete beneath his boots was turning into bubbling liquid slag just from his proximity.
It was a hyper-pressurized thermal boundary. Endeavor had compressed his flames directly onto his skin, burning up all the oxygen in a tight radius around his body.
Dabi's sparks needed oxygen to detonate. Because the air around Endeavor was already a superheated vacuum, the chain explosions had detonated harmlessly outside the barrier.
It was the Sun-Armor. Kaito Arisaka's ultimate defensive blueprint.
Endeavor looked at Dabi.
The air around the hero was warping and distorting so heavily it looked like looking through deep water.
"Is that all you have?" Endeavor asked, his voice vibrating with raw, contained power.
WEE-WOO. WEE-WOO.
The faint, rising wail of police and agency sirens echoed from the streets outside. The moment the fight had started, Endeavor had triggered the silent distress beacon on his belt.
"TSK!"
Dabi clicked his tongue in annoyance.
He looked at the glowing, armored form of his father. He looked at Shoto, who was slowly picking himself up off the floor.
He had vented his frustration. He had tested the old man.
The armor was a problem, but he wasn't going to stick around to figure it out today with an army of sidekicks on the way.
"You got some new tricks, Number 3" Dabi rasped with a teasing tone, stepping backward into the shadows of the warehouse. "But don't get comfortable. The heat is just starting."
"Stay right there!!"
SWIISH.
Endeavor lunged forward, his glowing fist raised to strike, but the masked man was already gone, melting into the dark alleys outside before the backup could arrive.
"DAMN!"
_-_-_-_-_
Location: Endeavor Agency – Logistics Floor
Date: The Next Day | 09:00 AM
SLAM.
Endeavor pushed through the heavy glass doors of the logistics floor.
He wasn't wearing his hero suit today.
He was in a standard dark business suit, but the deep, angry scowl on his face made the entire room quiet down immediately.
The sidekicks stopped gossiping. The keyboards stopped clicking.
Burnin' walked over from the main briefing screens.
She didn't look bored like she had a few days ago. She looked completely serious as she handed him a digital tablet.
"We swept the entire Ward 4 industrial zone, Boss," Burnin' said, keeping her voice strictly professional. "Local police locked down a ten-block radius. We ran thermal scanners and brought in the tracking hounds. Nothing. The guy is just gone."
Endeavor stared at the blank map on the screen.
"People don't just disappear," Endeavor grunted, his voice a low rumble. "What did the intel team find?"
Tap.Tap.
Burnin' tapped the screen, swiping past the map to pull up a few blurry, low-resolution photos.
"The official registry doesn't have any match for a blue-flame quirk that burns that hot," she explained. "But we dug into the underground web forums like you asked. There are rumors. There's a nameless vigilante operating down in the southern slums. He's been active for a few months. Apparently, he's been turning low-level Trigger dealers and human traffickers to ash."
Endeavor stared at the blurry blue light on the tablet.
A street thug. A nobody. But he had a quirk hotter than Hell Spider, and he knew exactly how to copy his signature moves.
But the fire wasn't what was pissing Endeavor off the most. It was the stance. The snapping.
"I will use this move in tribute to the strongest man alive."
Endeavor remembered the Sky Egg incident perfectly.
He remembered the infuriating man in the white suit who had treated him like a minor annoyance.
He remembered being turned into a flat drawing and shoved into a flying billboard car while a pop song blared in the background.
Hero X didn't just have power; he broke the very rules of reality with a simple snap of his fingers.
And now, some psychotic kid with blue fire was running around imitating him.
To Endeavor, it felt like a direct insult.
A reminder that no matter how much his approval ratings climbed, there was a monster out there he couldn't touch, and that monster was inspiring the streets.
Endeavor shoved the tablet back into Burnin's chest.
"Double the patrols in the southern wards," Endeavor ordered. "I want eyes on every alley and abandoned building. If anyone spots blue fire, do not engage. You call me directly. Is that clear?"
"Got it, Boss," Burnin' nodded, already turning to shout orders at the communications desk.
Endeavor walked past the rows of desks. He needed to prepare.
The Sun-Armor had protected him from the localized explosions, but it wasn't perfect.
Maintaining that superheated vacuum right against his skin was burning up his own oxygen supply too fast.
If that fight had lasted ten more minutes, his lungs would have given out. He needed to tweak the formula.
He stopped in front of the corner office. The lights were off.
"Haruka," Endeavor said, looking at the head of the office team. "Where is Arisaka?"
Haruka looked up from her monitors and pushed her glasses up her nose.
"He's out of the office today, Endeavor-san," Haruka answered smoothly. "He left yesterday morning. He told us he had scheduled business outside the agency."
"Business?" Endeavor narrowed his eyes.
"What business?"
"He is fulfilling the promises he made to the other heroes during the Sky Egg concert," Haruka said, checking the digital calendar on her screen. "He's doing consultations. He met with Present Mic yesterday. He is scheduled to meet with Uwabami, Midnight and Ms. Joke"
Endeavor felt a vein throb in his forehead.
Some copycat villain was targeting him with blue fire, and his manager was out giving career advice to a radio host and a female pros.
"Fine," Endeavor muttered, turning toward his private elevator. "When he finally gets back, tell him I need him in the underground training room immediately. The thermal containment on the armor needs adjusting."
"Understood," Haruka said, making a quick note on her keyboard.
Endeavor stepped into the elevator.
SHHH.
The metal doors slid closed.
He stood alone in the quiet box, his jaw clenched tight.
He hated relying on other people. But after facing those explosive snaps, he had to admit the truth to himself. He needed Arisaka's brain to figure out how to beat it.
_-_-_-_
Location: High-End Shopping District
Date: Next Day | 01:00 PM
RUSTLE.
Miles away from the furious Number Three hero, the Golden Manager was currently dealing with a completely different kind of exhaustion.
Kaito stood on the sidewalk, holding six large, heavy designer shopping bags. His face was completely devoid of emotion.
Uwabami walked out of a boutique, wearing a stunning red dress and dark sunglasses. The three small snakes in her hair were hissing happily.
"Oh, Kaito-kun, you're a lifesaver," Uwabami said, smiling brightly. "I told my agency I was having a business meeting with the famous manager today, but I really just needed a day off."
"I am aware," Kaito said. He didn't complain. He just adjusted his grip on the bags. "Are we done?"
"Yes, yes. Let's get a drink," she said, waving him toward an upscale daytime bar across the street.
Ten minutes later, they were sitting at a quiet corner booth.
Kaito had carefully placed the bags on the floor. Uwabami was sipping a cocktail, looking at him with an amused expression.
"So," Uwabami said, resting her chin on her hand. "You let me drag you around for two hours without complaining. You're very patient. Now, tell me how bad my agency is running."
"Your agency is running fine," Kaito said. "Your personal branding is a waste of a top-tier quirk."
Uwabami raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"You're marketing yourself as a celebrity hero," Kaito said. "You do commercials. You do modeling. That's fine for cash flow. But your quirk is tracking. You have three serpents that can locate anyone, anywhere. Why are you waiting for villains to rob banks so you can fight them on camera?"
"Because that's what heroes do?"
"That's what brawlers do," Kaito corrected.
"You aren't a brawler. You're a bloodhound. You need to pivot your agency into 'High-Bounty Retrieval'."
Uwabami lowered her glass. "Retrieval?"
"Missing persons. Escaped convicts. Kidnapped VIPs," Kaito listed off.
"Let the other heroes punch the street thugs. You should be charging massive premium fees to wealthy clients and the government to find people who don't want to be found. Keep the glamour. Wear the designer clothes. But market yourself as the hero who finds what is lost. You won't even have to fight. You just track them, drop the location to the police, and collect the check."
Uwabami stared at him for a long moment. A slow, genuine smile spread across her face.
"You really are a ruthless manager, aren't you?" she purred. "High-Bounty Retrieval. It sounds expensive."
"It is," Kaito said. "I'll send you the restructuring documents tomorrow."
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Agency Lounge
Date: Next Day | 03:00 PM
HISS.
The espresso machine in the corner of the lounge finished brewing.
Nemuri Kayama handed a small cup to Kaito. She wasn't in her hero costume today.
She wore a simple blouse and slacks, looking much more like a regular civilian.
"Thanks for coming," Nemuri said, sitting down across from him. "I know Mic and Uwabami already took up your week."
"It's fine," Kaito said, taking the cup. "You wanted to discuss your agency's patrol routes?"
"Actually, no," Nemuri said.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
The playful, flirtatious attitude she usually put on for the cameras was completely gone. She looked serious. "I want to teach. At UA. Principal Nezu and I have been talking about it for a while."
Kaito nodded. "A teaching position is a good long-term career move. Less physical risk, stable income."
"It's not about the money," Nemuri sighed. "I want to help the kids. But I'm... well, I'm the R-Rated Hero. My whole public persona is a gimmick. How do I actually teach the next generation without them just seeing the gimmick?"
Kaito set his cup down on the saucer.
"You stop teaching physical combat," Kaito said.
Nemuri blinked. "But it's a hero school."
"They have plenty of heroes to teach them how to punch," Kaito replied. "Look at your quirk, Kayama-san. Somnambulist. You put people to sleep. To do that effectively, you have to understand human physiology. You have to understand heart rates, stress responses, and how the brain shuts down. You know more about the human nervous system than half the doctors in this city."
"..."
Nemuri sat up a little straighter. No one usually brought up the science behind her quirk.
"You shouldn't just be the art history teacher," Kaito continued. "You need to be the instructor who teaches psychological profiling. Teach the students how to read a villain's stress levels. Teach them how to break down mental barriers, not just physical ones. If you show them that you understand the human mind better than anyone else in the room, the gimmick won't matter. They will respect the expertise."
Nemuri stared at him. Her eyes softened, and she let out a slow breath.
"Psychological profiling," she repeated. A confident smile finally broke through. "I like the sound of that. Thank you, Arisaka. Really."
"Just send me an invite if you ever get the job," Kaito said, finishing his espresso.
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Quiet Diner – Edge of Town
Date: Later That Week | 06:00 PM
CLATTER.
Emi Fukukado dropped her fork onto her plate and slumped against the vinyl booth.
She had her Ms. Joke bandana on, but the usual loud energy was gone. She just looked like a teacher who needed a vacation.
Sigh.
"I swear, Arisaka-san, these second-years are going to kill me," Emi sighed, swirling the ice in her water glass. "I love Ketsubutsu. But trying to keep these kids motivated when U.A. is right down the road hogging the news cycle? It's a nightmare. Every time my class sees a U.A. kid on TV, their self-esteem hits the floor."
Kaito sat across from her, chewing on a plain club sandwich.
He didn't have a hero agency to fix for her. He was just here for dinner.
"Motivation isn't their problem," Kaito said.
He swallowed his bite and wiped his hands. "Your philosophy is."
Emi stopped swirling her glass. She raised an eyebrow. "Ouch. Right for the throat. Okay, Mr. Golden Manager, what's wrong with how I teach?"
"You let them look at U.A.," Kaito replied bluntly. "U.A. is the mountain peak. It's loud, flashy, and relies entirely on the genetic lottery. They take kids with destructive quirks and teach them how to punch harder. If your students keep staring at that peak, they're going to trip over the dirt right in front of them. You can't beat U.A. at their own game."
"So what do I tell them?" Emi asked, leaning forward.
"Tell them to look at the ground," Kaito said. "Build an anti-U.A. curriculum. U.A. teaches kids to break their bones pushing past physical limits. You need to teach emotional combat."
Emi frowned slightly. "Emotional combat?"
"Look at your own quirk," Kaito pointed a finger at her. "Outburst. You make people laugh. To a meathead brawler, that sounds like a gag. In reality? It's psychological suppression. You force an involuntary physical response that leaves a villain wide open. You break their focus."
"..."
Emi stared at him.
She had never heard anyone describe her quirk like a tactical weapon before.
"Teach your students that," Kaito continued. He grabbed a pen from his jacket and pulled a napkin from the dispenser.
SCRATCH.
He drew a quick, sharp flowchart.
"Start a Shadow Hero program. Lean into the dark. Teach them underground heroics. Teach them how to disarm a hostage situation in a mall without shattering the windows. U.A. kids cause collateral damage. Make your kids the ones who don't."
He pushed the napkin across the table.
"And change your entrance exams. U.A. rejects kids if their quirks aren't combat-ready. A kid who can only vibrate air slightly? U.A. fails them. You scout them. Teach that kid to vibrate the air inside a vault lock to open doors, or inside a villain's inner ear to cause vertigo. Weaponize the weak quirks. Turn Ketsubutsu into a school for specialists."
Emi didn't laugh.
She didn't crack a joke. She looked at the ink on the napkin, her mind racing.
"You aren't just a golden manager," Emi muttered. "You really know everything, Arisaka"
"I just read more books," Kaito said, picking his coffee up.
"The modesty," Emi grabbed the napkin and shoved it into her pocket.
The exhausted look was completely gone from her face, replaced by a fierce, determined fire.
"I have a board meeting at Ketsubutsu on Monday," Emi said. "I'm pitching this. All of it. But they won't just take my word for it. I need a pilot program to prove it works."
Kaito paused, his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. "A pilot program."
"I want you in my classroom," Emi pointed right at him. "Just a few weeks. Guest lecturer. If I tell the board the guy who fixed Endeavor's agency wants to consult for our hero course, they'll write a blank check."
"I am contracted with the Number Three hero," Kaito reminded her. "My schedule is tight."
"I don't care," Emi grinned, her loud energy snapping right back into place. "I'll make them match your hourly rate. Just one seminar a week. Think about it, Kaito. If we pull this off, we aren't just fixing a school. We're changing how heroes are raised. Even U.A. will have to take notice."
"...."
Kaito looked at her.
He ran the logic in his head.
She had a point. Fixing pro agencies was just treating the symptoms of a broken society.
The disease started in the schools. If he built a successful pilot program here, the ripples would hit Shiketsu, Seijin, and eventually, force the rat principal at U.A. to adapt.
SIGH.
Kaito let out a quiet breath and picked up his sandwich again.
"Fine," Kaito said. "Send me the syllabus for your homeroom. I'll have a pilot curriculum drafted by Tuesday."
_-_-_-_-_
[Author's Note]
Wow, Chapter 100. I honestly didn't expect to make it this far. When I first started this novel, I got hit with a ton of negative reviews right out of the gate. It was rough, but I decided to just put my head down, ignore the hate, and focus on writing the story steadily and making it as good as I possibly could.
I owe a massive thank you to all my active readers. Your comments, reviews, and discussions really made me feel like I was doing something right and kept me motivated.
And to all the silent readers who just quietly follow along with every update, thank you so much too. I am genuinely honored that you guys have stuck with me for a hundred chapters.
On another note, I'm currently planning to start a second novel soon, but I'm still trying to figure out what the best or most trending topic would be right now. I have three main ideas bouncing around in my head
Jujutsu Kaisen: The MC is born into the Kamo clan, and his ultimate goal is to push his limits and basically become the Blood God (no cheats or systems)
Danmachi: The MC starts out joining either the Freya Familia or the Ishtar Familia instead of the usual routes.
World Hopping: The MC's home world is the Invincible universe, but he has the ability to travel to other major hero universes like the MCU, DCU, DCEU, The Boys etc.
Thanks again for the massive milestone, and let's keep the story going!
...
Quick update: My body is finally healing up. That workout soreness absolutely wrecked me for a few days—a newbie is no joke, lol. The muscle pain was way more annoying than I expected, but I'm feeling much better now. Could prolly think and create a chapter normally.
....
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(9 Advanced Chapters)