Chapter 4

₊˚⊹✷ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄.
⤷ trick of the light.

march.

THE MAN ACROSS THE TABLE spoke in his usual, measured tone, “I need you to do me a favor.” and the boy frowned. 

He always says things like that, Oda thought, his fingers curling slightly against the arm of the chair. As if he had a choice. As if anything Ango Sakaguchi ever asked was optional. 

It was almost cruel—this pretense of choice. The boy would rather be ordered outright than endure the infuriating “do me a favor” routine, a mockery of freedom that neither of them believed in.

“Oh, do you now?” The boy huffed, turning his gaze away from the man and toward the wide office window that stretched nearly floor to ceiling. Beyond the glass, the skyline of Tokyo looked sharp and sterile. He reached up and pulled idly on the thin silver chain around his neck—a stiff, cold reminder of why he was here. 

Orphaned child. 

Government property. 

The man across from him closed his sleek black laptop with a quiet click and pushed his round, silver-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. He folded his hands over one another with practiced calm, elbows resting on the polished desk. The boy’s bored, agitated gaze met his—dark eyes flat, unreadable, but heavy with defiance.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not a bad favor.”

Oda’s lip twitched. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Odasaku.”

The boy cringed at the sound of his real name. It scraped against his nerves. Every syllable felt like a leash being pulled taut. Oda’s glare sharpened—cold, venomous. He hated this man with a quiet, simmering passion that never quite burned out. It took all of his restraint not to let the anger show.

“What?”

The man sighed and shook his head as though he were speaking to a stubborn child. “So unpleasant. And here I am trying to be nice. I think you’ll like this favor if you’ll just hear me out.”

Oda’s response was flat, bitter. “I don’t have a choice either way. Whether I like it or not.”

He slumped back in the chair, its leather creaking under his shifting weight. His messy black bangs fell into his eyes, and he didn’t bother to brush them away. Behind the colored contacts, his gaze looked nearly pitch-black.

Ango chose to ignore his tone. “The board has made a decision. With where we are now, we’ve decided now is the best time to debut you.”

“Debut me?”

Ango paused, studying the boy’s posture—the casual, irritated way he sat, arms loosely crossed, every movement deceptively lazy but coiled with restrained energy. After a long moment, he spoke carefully: “We’re sending you to U.A. High.”

“What?”

That one word carried enough fury to make the air itself shift. 

Oda’s expression twisted, and before Ango could blink, the temperature in the room dropped. A red hue began to glow faintly along Oda’s skin, outlining his shape. Air currents spiraled violently, stirring papers off the desk and rattling picture frames on the walls. The carpet tore beneath his chair, fibers and dust lifting in a sudden rush as marble cracked beneath his feet.

Ango frowned but didn’t flinch, even as the chair splintered under the boy’s power and the polished floor fractured. He simply leaned back slightly, watching with detached patience as Oda’s fury manifested.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Oda demanded, his voice low and vibrating with energy.

“You’re paying for a new chair,” Ango replied calmly, unimpressed by the display.

“Answer the goddamn question and tell me you’re joking.”

“I don’t joke.” Ango adjusted his glasses again, unbothered. “Now sit down and listen to the terms and I think you might be more than okay with this decision.”

“I highly fucking doubt it.”

“Sit.” Ango’s tone sharpened, the calm breaking for just a second. The command in his voice made Oda’s left eye twitch, his fists tightening before he yanked the second chair from across the room and dropped into it. His glare could have killed a lesser man.

Ango exhaled slowly, dusting off his sleeve before reaching forward to realign the pens that had rolled across the desk. He always kept them in perfect order. “Listen to me, Odasaku.” His gaze hardened. “I know you hate imprisonment. And I know you’re tired of the tests run on you since you inherited your father’s quirk by rather… unconventional means.”

At that, Oda’s fury dimmed, his attention caught. The mention of his father—was always enough to make him listen, even if he didn’t want to.

Ango continued, voice calm and measured. “Which leads to my proposition.”

Oda said nothing, only leaned back slightly, jaw tense.

“A chance at normal life,” Ango said simply. “That’s what I’m offering. There are conditions, of course. No one can know your real name, no one can see the full extent of your power, and no one can know you’re there on government means.” He shrugged lightly, as if it were a small thing. “But other than that, you’ll be free to live as you see fit until you’re certified as a pro.”

Oda’s eyes narrowed. “I’m guessing there’s another catch.”

Ango smiled faintly, a knowing expression that didn’t reach his eyes, and nodded. “I’ll have odd jobs for you here and there.”

“Hit jobs?”

“Any jobs.”

“Of course.” Oda scoffed, shaking his head, a humorless sound escaping him. But they both knew how this conversation would end. He couldn’t afford to refuse—not with his mother still in Tartarus and his brother’s life tied to government machines.

Ango leaned back, waiting.

“Well?”

Oda stared at him for a long moment. The chain around his neck glinted faintly as he tugged on it again, then sighed. “I’ll do it. You know I will. I’m guessing you can get me into the recommendations testing?”

Ango nodded. “You’re already set up to be put in the system. You are expected to score high. With your quirk, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

“Failure to do so will result in consequences.”

“Understood.”

Ango steepled his fingers again. “That being said, keep a low profile with your classmates. Your job will be easier if you don’t make too many friends—don’t make enemies, but staying detached will make it easier, especially when you go pro as a government utility.”

Oda stared back, blank and unreadable. The boy’s voice came out flat, mechanical, repeating a line he’d been trained to say.

“Yessir.”

𓏵

april.

TO SAY THE SCHOOL year had started with a bang would be an understatement of events.

At first, things had been almost deceptively normal. The first week was nothing more than a blur of introductions, training tests, and awkward interactions—everyone learning each other’s quirks, limits, and nerves. It was dull in the exact way Oda had expected U.A. to be. 

What he hadn’t expected was how fast all of that would come crashing down.

The first signs of trouble seemed harmless. The third day of class, a few reporters somehow broke into the school—an embarrassing breach, sure, but one the staff quickly contained. 

Everyone laughed it off later, thinking the press was just getting overeager about U.A.’s newest hero course. The next day went back to normal—another training session, another test. No one realized how short-lived that sense of security would be.

By the fourth day, they were headed to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint—the USJ—a massive, high-tech facility built to simulate natural disasters and rescue missions. The building itself was stunning, a domed structure of glass and metal with artificial zones that mimicked different terrains: mountains, oceans, ruins, and cityscapes.

It was supposed to be a learning day. 

But that’s not what happened.

They hadn’t even begun the rescue exercise when it happened. A strange distortion—a dark swirl of violet mist—appeared at the center of the facility. It expanded fast, spiraling like smoke and figures stepped out of it, all looking unfriendly. 

“This is real. Those are villains.”

Every student stopped moving. You could hear the collective inhale of twenty-one first-years realizing all at once that they weren’t looking at simulations right now.

Kaminari tried to make contact with the outside, his voice shaking slightly as he shouted into his comm. Meanwhile, Todoroki’s calm, measured tone cut through the panic, noting what everyone else was thinking but didn’t want to say—these villains hadn’t come here by accident. They were targeting the USJ.

Their teacher, Aizawa, didn’t waste a second. His scarf unfurled behind him as he jumped into action, eyes glowing. He left the relative safety of the students, taking on the villains before they could spread further. His movements were efficient, brutal, and precise, but there were too many of them.

That left the students in the hands of Thirteen. Her voice, normally calm and instructional, was sharper now, tight with urgency. She started leading the class toward the main entrance, guiding them out of the building and toward safety. The plan was simple—get help.

But the villains had other plans.

Before they could reach the door, the air rippled again. The same violet mist surged up from the ground, twisting and spiraling into shape before them. The warp gate—alive and sentient—expanded across the floor like a living shadow.

“There is no escape for you.”

The voice that came from it was eerie—low and calm, but distorted, like it was coming from somewhere both near and far at once. The form had no real body, just the vague outline of a man made of smoke and void.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. We are the League of Villains. I know it’s impolite, but we decided to invite ourselves into this haven of justice to say hello. And besides, isn’t this a fitting place for All Might, the Symbol of Peace, to take his last breath? I believe he was supposed to be here today and yet I see no sign of him. There must’ve been some sort of change in plans we could not have foreseen. Ah, well, in the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I still have a role to play.”

Thirteen reacted instantly, the air around her shifting as she opened her suit to attack—but Bakugo and Kirishima were faster.

“You thought we were just gonna let you run your mouth?” Bakugo snarled, explosions crackling from his palms.

The villain’s smoky face tilted slightly, as if amused. “You live up to your school’s reputation. But you should be more careful, children, otherwise, someone might get hurt.”

“You two, get back!” Thirteen yelled, trying to stop them, but it was too late.

“I’ll scatter you across this facility to meet my comrades and your ends!”

The warp gate expanded in an instant, swallowing everything in its reach. The room dissolved into swirling violet mist. Oda’s stomach lurched—the sensation of gravity slipping away, his body suddenly weightless, spinning through the dark fog.

And then, as quickly as it began, he was falling.

For one split second, there was nothing but air and panic—and then the world came crashing back.

He landed hard on something solid. Someone solid.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“BOTH OF YOU IDIOTS GET OFF OF ME!”

Oda blinked, disoriented, realizing he’d somehow landed in a tangled heap with Bakugo and Kirishima. He scrambled upright immediately, “Sorry,” he repeated quickly, brushing dust from his hero-suit.

“You’re good,” Kirishima said with a laugh, shaking it off like he’d just tripped in the hallway instead of been teleported into a battlefield. His easy grin didn’t match the chaos around them. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Oda pushed his bangs out of his face, scanning their surroundings. The air was thick with dust. They were somewhere in a building, probably from the simulated city. 

“Don’t ignore me!” Bakugo barked, shoving himself to his feet. His expression was all fire and fury as usual.

“You good, Bakugo?” Kirishima asked, still managing to sound chipper even as he was being yelled at.

“Of course I am!” Bakugo snapped, but the sound of footsteps echoing against cracked concrete made him fall silent.

“Well, well, well, look what they brought us.”

Figures emerged from the shadows—villains, dozens of them, their silhouettes moving closer through the dust. Weapons glinted faintly under the broken lights.

“Awh, crap,” Kirishima muttered, his grin fading as the skin on his arms hardened into rock-like plates.

“These aren’t heroes. They’re basically babies,” one of the villains laughed, voice thick with mockery.

“The hell did you just say?” Bakugo dropped his head, eyes narrowing. Sparks danced across his palms as a grin—sharp and unhinged—split his face. “I’ll kill you.”

“We’re supposed to be the good guys, you know,” Oda mumbled under his breath, though even as he said it, a faint red glow began to shimmer around his body, the air vibrating slightly from the sound of his quirk activating.

“You all remember what Shigaraki said. Get them!” someone from the crowd shouted, and in the next breath, two dozen villains charged forward.

In a red blur, Oda shot around the room, his movements sharp and fluid, leaving streaks of crimson light in his wake. The air around him rippled as he moved. 

Every kick he landed sent a villain flying, every pivot left the air humming from the force of it. His hands stayed tucked neatly in the pockets of his suit, a habit that looked lazy but served a purpose. If he let them out, he risked losing control.

His suit wasn’t anything flashy, not like some of the others. Just a sleek red jumpsuit with black accents cutting down the sides, a faint gold belt at his waist. The tank-top design left his arms exposed, the cursed red markings along his skin glowing faintly in the dim light. They pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.

He darted past one villain, sweeping their legs out from under them before pivoting midair and sending another crashing into the wall. 

Around him, the chaos was deafening—Bakugo’s explosions cracked, sending shockwaves through the debris, while Kirishima’s fists slammed into opponents with the sound of breaking concrete. 

To Oda’s surprise, none of these so-called “villains” were actually difficult to fight. If anything, they were pathetic. 

Their movements were sloppy, disorganized—no coordination, no strategy. They charged in one at a time, shouting empty threats, and went down just as quickly. Oda’s hits landed too easily, their defenses nonexistent. These weren’t hardened criminals. They were thugs. Untrained, unprepared, and wildly out of their league.

It was almost sad.

Within thirty minutes, the floor was littered with unconscious bodies, the air still buzzing faintly from Bakugo’s last explosion.

“I think that’s the last of them. Bunch of weaklings,” Bakugo huffed, lowering his smoking hands as he glared down at the nearest unconscious villain. 

“Alright. Let’s circle and find the rest of our class,” Kirishima said, his usual grin dimming into something more serious as he turned back to look at them. 

Oda’s red aura flickered once before fading completely, the glow dissolving like mist. He exhaled slowly, the tension leaving his shoulders as he adjusted the collar of his suit.

“If we’re still in the USJ, then the others probably are too,” Oda pointed out, his tone calm, measured. His eyes flicked toward the distant halls, already mapping out where the others might have been sent.

“Not all of them have the defensive power that we have,” Kirishima added, concern clear in his voice. He turned toward Bakugo, “We should make sure that they’re safe, especially since we’re the ones who screwed up when we got in the way earlier. If Thirteen had been able to suck up that villain, then we never would’ve been separated like that. We have to make it up to the others.”

“If you two wanna track the others down, have fun. But I’m gonna go track down that warpy bastard,” Bakugo said, his tone flat but his eyes sharp with intent. For all his temper, he was strangely focused—an edge of control that Oda hadn’t expected from him.

“Eh?”

“Huh? But our physical attacks didn’t hurt that guy,” Kirishima pointed out, confusion breaking through his usual confidence.

“Don’t be dumb,” Oda added, almost mocking as he crossed his arms.

“Shut up!” Bakugo barked, whipping around to glare at him. Sparks flickered from his palms again, lighting up his face. “I’m gonna take him down ’cause he’s their way in and out. If they lose their escape route then they’ll be stuck here and they’ll have to pay for what they’ve done!”

As he spoke, Oda caught movement—just the faintest shift of light above them. His eyes narrowed. Something wasn’t right. The shadows on the ceiling didn’t match.

“We’ll just have to figure it out.”

“Move.”

Oda shoved him aside just as something shimmered against the light. His quirk flared, red energy bursting around him in a sudden wave as his body blurred forward. 

The force cracked the air. He locked onto the distortion he’d seen, and before the invisible villain could react, Oda’s power slammed him to the ground with bone-shaking force. The impact echoed, dust lifting around them. The villain flickered into visibility for only a second before going limp, unconscious.

“Woah, how’d you see that guy?” Kirishima asked, eyes wide as he blinked between Oda and the now-visible villain. To him, it had looked like Oda just attacked thin air.

“Trick of the light,” Oda replied smoothly. Then he looked pointedly at Bakugo. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh, whatever! I knew he was there!” Bakugo snapped, glaring. Oda didn’t bother answering, just rolled his eyes and turned away. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth didn’t go unnoticed, though.

“And if the other villains are as weak as these guys then our classmates should be fine,” Bakugo muttered, half to himself.

“Pfft, since when do you act so calm and rational? Normally you shout more,” Kirishima pointed out, smirking as he leaned against a cracked pillar.

“I’M ALWAYS CALM AND RATIONAL, YOU RED HAIRED LOSER!” Bakugo roared, spinning on him.

“Yeah. There you are,” Kirishima teased, unfazed by the yelling.

“If you losers wanna go find the others, knock yourselves out,” Bakugo grumbled, sparks still popping in his palms as he turned away.

He didn’t notice the quick look that passed between Oda and Kirishima—the silent agreement that neither of them was about to let him go alone.

The three made their way out of the Collapsed-Zone, moving quickly through the twisted steel beams and broken concrete that made up the debris field. The sound of distant fighting guiding them toward the center of the USJ.

Oda’s boots hit the metal walkways without a sound, his red outline flickering faintly as he kept pace beside Bakugo and Kirishima. The closer they got, the louder the chaos became—explosions, yelling, the thunder of impact.

The absolute second they arrived, Bakugo didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even stop to assess. The moment his eyes locked on that swirling purple mist, he launched himself forward with an explosion, propelling through the air like a missile. The shockwave of his blast scattered dust in every direction, the light flaring bright against the darkened dome of the USJ.

He reached the warp-gate before Midoriya did—Midoriya, who seemed to be trying to get to All Might, yelling something Oda couldn’t hear over the chaos.

“OUT OF MY WAY, DEKU!” Bakugo roared. He slammed down on the warp-gate’s physical body, driving it into the ground with a heavy crash. The purple mist flickered violently, the distortion collapsing for a moment before reforming.

Across the ruined ground, ice spread in a jagged flash, freezing everything it touched—the scattered debris, the ground itself, and most importantly, the grotesque, half-warped monster gripping All Might. The Nomu froze mid-motion, the ice creeping up its limbs and locking its massive form in place.

“One of your poorly trained thugs told me you’re here because you think you can kill All Might,” Todoroki said, his voice cool and unshaken as frost clung to his breath.

Kirishima came crashing down next, swinging his hardened fist at Shigaraki, though the villain twisted just out of reach. Oda didn’t miss.

He landed with a concussive thud, the ground cracking under his boots as a faint red shimmer pulsed around him. The impact sent a short shockwave rippling outward, strong enough to knock Shigaraki back several feet.

“Guess I found your body that time, you smokey bastard,” Bakugo sneered, eyes narrowing at the flickering figure of Kurogiri.

“The Symbol of Peace won’t die at your hands,” Todoroki declared, his expression as cold as the ice he stood on.

Shigaraki’s red-rimmed eyes darted around the growing ring of students and heroes surrounding him. His lip curled downward in annoyance as he glared at his subordinate. “Kurogiri, how could you let this brat get the best of you? You’ve gotten us into a real jam here.”

“Heh. You got careless, you dumb villain. It wasn’t hard to figure you out,” Bakugo shot back, his voice cutting through the noise. He cracked a grin, explosions sparking faintly in his palms as he spoke. “Only certain parts of you turn into that dumb warp gate. You use that mist to hide your actual body like a distraction. You thought that made you safe. That’s why we missed. But if you didn’t have a body, you wouldn’t be wearing this neck armor. You’re not immune to physical attacks if they’re well aimed.”

Shigaraki’s face twitched, his hand flexing open and closed. He began muttering under his breath, his voice low and erratic before his head snapped toward the hulking beast behind him.

“Nomu.”

The monster obeyed instantly. The cracking of ice and snapping of joints filled the air as it tore itself free, its skin stretching grotesquely as it broke through Todoroki’s frozen layer. Fragments of ice exploded outward, skittering across the ground like shattered glass.

“How is that thing still moving?” Midoriya gawked, stumbling a step back beside Todoroki. His voice trembled, eyes wide as he took in the regenerating limbs. “He’s all messed up.”

“Stay back, everybody!” All Might’s voice boomed through the chaos, commanding even through the rising panic.

Oda’s eyes narrowed as he watched the creature reform—bones snapping back into place, muscle fibers reattaching and thickening under newly grown skin. It was unnatural, almost mechanical in its precision. The sound alone was sickening.

“What is this? I thought you said his power was shock absorption,” All Might demanded, his tone more anger than confusion.

Shigaraki laughed—a jagged, humorless sound that made Oda’s stomach twist. “I didn’t say that was his only quirk. He also has super regeneration. Nomu’s been modified to take you on, even at 100% of your power,” he said, pride dripping from his words. “He’s like a highly efficient punching bag that hits back. First we need to free our method of escape. Get him, Nomu.”

The monster roared and lunged forward with terrifying speed, the ground cracking beneath its weight. The gust of air that followed was like a hurricane—hot, violent, and deafening.

It went straight for Bakugo.

The explosion that followed was instant. A sharp whoosh and a resounding bang filled the room as All Might intercepted the attack. The sheer force of the impact sent out a shockwave that knocked everyone back like rag dolls, dust exploding into the air and blinding them. Oda felt the wind tear through his hair, his boots skidding backward on the cracked floor as he tried to brace himself.

When the dust finally began to settle, Bakugo was on the ground beside the others, coughing.

“Kacchan!” Midoriya’s voice broke through first, panicked but relieved. He turned and saw the ash-blond sprawled beside him. “Kacchan? Oh, that’s awesome, you dodged him.”

“Shut up, no I didn’t, you damn nerd,” Bakugo snapped immediately.

“Then how did you get over here?” Kirishima asked, brushing debris from his shoulder, his red armor cracked but intact.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Todoroki said coolly, already glancing toward the massive silhouette in the settling dust.

When the haze finally cleared, All Might was still standing. Bruised, and battered. 

The villains weren’t holding back. That much was clear. Shigaraki stood a few feet away, his hands twitching in agitation, the eerie grin stretching across his face. His voice rose again—half fury, half obsession—as he began to monologue, his eyes locked on the Number One Hero like a predator staring down prey.

The Nomu was made to kill All Might, and that’s just what he tried to do. The creature’s roars rattled the steel framework of the USJ, each one deeper and more monstrous than the last. Its massive, stitched-together body moved like it had been weaponized—raw muscle, warped flesh, and pure rage. It lunged, swinging with enough force to break concrete like glass.

But it failed.

Because when All Might met it head-on, when the Symbol of Peace stood his ground and didn’t flinch, the balance of power shifted instantly. The air itself seemed to tremble. The moment their fists collided, the entire dome shook.

The resulting shockwave ripped through the building like an explosion, sending wind currents howling through every corridor of the USJ. Glass shattered. Metal beams groaned and bent. The floor quaked beneath their feet. Even standing far back, Oda could feel the force of it in his bones. He had to brace himself just to stay upright, his hair and suit whipping in the artificial gale.

It was an unexplainable thing to watch. Almost otherworldly. 

And for Oda, there was something profoundly humbling about it. He wasn’t the type to idolize anyone—never had been—but seeing All Might in motion like this… it made even someone like him understand why the world believed in that man.

Especially knowing he could never be that physically strong.

Oda’s strength came from bending gravity to his will. He could crush, lift, or shift anything around him, but it wasn’t the same. His body had been altered to withstand his quirk—bones reinforced, muscle density heightened—but even then, he wasn’t built like that. Not like All Might.

Sure, Oda was stronger than the average boy his size. He was made to be that way. But this… this was something else entirely. To watch the Symbol of Peace exchange blows with a monster designed specifically to destroy him—each strike loud enough to shake the air apart—was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

That was what power looked like. 

The Symbol of Peace took a villain meant to kill him and turned it into a teaching experience. Every motion, every word, every hit—it all carried a lesson. Even in the middle of chaos, he reminded them what it meant to stand for something.

The first few days of high school at the Hero Academy, U.A., were insane

author’s note-

hello! just wanted to pop in a leave this note here:

i have no idea who wants to read this fic. i know this isn’t really the kind of thing i usually post on my page, and i also know that my hero has recently come to an end. this was a major hyper fixation as a young teen and honestly, with this being sort of a cross over fic, i realize this might be hard for some people to follow. 

however, we’ve written over thirty chapters of this fic so i see no reason why i shouldn’t just publish it, even if it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. 

let us know what you think of it.

anyway, collab credits to zeroraide

FROM US TO YOU, THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING!