In an apartment, in the remote section of the ghetto, the air was thick with the scent of old wood, dust, and something faintly metallic. The dim lighting barely illuminated the cramped space—walls covered in peeling paint, a single flickering bulb overhead casting jagged shadows along the floor. It wasn't a home. It was a hideout, the kind of place people used when they didn't want to be found.
The vigilante stood near the window, watching the streets below. From up here, the city looked different—distant. Behind him, Eichi moved through the room with an ease that was almost unsettling, as if he had already claimed the space as his own.
"You didn't answer my question," the vigilante muttered without turning around.
Eichi glanced up from where he was rummaging through a bag on the worn-out table. "Which one?"
"What do you want from me?" He shot him a glance from the side.
"Well, for starters," Eichi said, pulling out three empty vials from his bag and setting them down. "If you want me to help you with disposal seals, I need your ink. A lot of it."
The vigilante's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
Eichi leaned against the table, twirling one of the vials between his fingers. "Let's just say it's part of my quirk. Using my own blood to create them is... less than ideal. A long-term hindrance, to be exact."
"You could just use commercialized ink. Wouldn't that work?"
"Yeah, no." Eichi let out a sigh. "The seals don't just need ink; they need something that conducts energy. A thick liquid that can carry and activate the program within the seal. Your ink happens to be perfect for that." His lips curled slightly. "So, think of it as payment for my services—tracking, disposal tags. Fair deal, right?"
This time, the vigilante fully turned to face him, taking in every detail—the way Eichi spoke, the confidence, the ease in his stance. He was young, too young for this kind of game, yet he played it like a veteran.
"You were looking for me specifically," the vigilante stated. "Who told you where to find me?"
Eichi's smirk deepened, a playful glint in his eyes. "I could tell you. Right here, right now." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knee. "But that'd be giving away my usefulness too soon, wouldn't it?"
At that, Kraken's tentacles stirred, slow and menacing, a silent warning slithering through the air.
"You think I can't kill you, kid?"
The smirk vanished. In an instant, Eichi's entire demeanor shifted. The warmth drained from his face. The air around them grew heavy, tense, as if the temperature had dropped.
"I came here as a contractor," Eichi said, his voice now eerily calm. "Not to dispose of you."
"Oh? You think you can take me on now?"
Eichi didn't respond. He moved.
One second, he was sitting on the table. The next, Kraken felt the cold touch of a blade against his jugular. No sound, no warning. Just there.
It was almost fascinating, really. Even in this precarious position, even with a child barely the age of his daughter holding a knife to his throat—Kraken wasn't scared. He was impressed.
Now, he understood why the kid was so confident.
A slow, amused breath escaped from him.
"I admit, I need you," Eichi said. "But talk to me like that again, and I won't waste time and look for someone else. Understood?"
Kraken held his gaze, unblinking.
Then, finally, he raised his hands in an easy, conceding motion.
"Crystal."
Eichi held his gaze for a moment longer before finally pulling back, slipping the blade away as if it had never existed.
"Good," he said. "What do you want in exchange for three vials of your ink? Tracking or seals?"
Kraken let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "I'd like money," he mused, rubbing his throat absentmindedly. "But I'm guessing you don't have it."
Eichi smirked. "Not in a way that would benefit you."
Kraken huffed, crossing his arms. "Figures." He leaned back slightly, eyeing the boy with renewed interest. "Fine. I'll take tracking. I need someone found."
Eichi nodded as if he expected that answer. "Details?"
Kraken's expression darkened, something flickering in his eyes. "A guy who's been making problems for me. Slippery. Knows how to disappear."
Eichi tilted his head. "Everyone leaves a trace. You just need to know where to look."
Kraken let out a low, approving grunt. "And you do?"
Eichi's smirk returned, sharp and knowing. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."
Kraken sighed, rubbing his temple. "He's a villain with an annoying quirk. Calls himself The Smoker. He can turn into smoke—makes him damn near invincible."
Eichi arched a brow. "Almost invincible?"
Kraken nodded. "You can only make contact with his real body if you catch him off guard. White hair, white beard, and a habit of robbing homes. He strikes once a month in different parts of the city. That's all I know."
Eichi leaned back slightly, thoughtful. "And the heroes? They don't know about him?"
At the mention of heroes, Kraken's expression soured. His nose scrunched slightly, and Eichi caught the reaction immediately.
"No," Kraken muttered. "I only found out about him a few months ago myself."
Eichi fell silent, turning the information over in his mind. Instead of just tracking him... why not get rid of him? A disposal job would be worth more, and with a higher commission, he could stretch that payment out for at least a month.
He hummed, weighing his words carefully before speaking. "Alright, let's adjust the deal. How about I dispose of him instead? You add three more vials to the commission, making it six."
Kraken's face hardened instantly. "No. I want him myself."
Eichi's gaze sharpened. "Personal, huh?"
"None of your concerns."
"Fair enough," Eichi conceded, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. "Then what about kidnapping?"
Kraken exhaled sharply. "That's if you can even find him."
"And if I do," Eichi countered, eyes gleaming with intrigue, "would you give me the extra three vials?"
Kraken studied him for a long moment. The room was silent except for the distant hum of the city outside.
Then, finally, he sighed. "Fine. If you find him and bring him to me alive, I'll give you the extra three vials."
A slow, satisfied smirk pulled at Eichi's lips. "Now that's a deal."
He pulled out a small notepad and clicked a pen open, tapping it idly against the page. "Any more details? Known associates, places he's hit before, anything that could narrow the search?"
Kraken leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "He never hits the same district twice in a row. Keeps his pattern unpredictable. But he always targets homes with high-value items—jewelry, rare antiques, things that are easy to pawn or fence."
Eichi nodded, jotting down quick notes. "So he's not just some thrill-seeker. He's making a living off of this."
"And from what I've gathered, he doesn't work with anyone. No partners, no gang ties—just him."
Eichi tapped the pen against the paper, thinking. "A guy like that has to have a buyer, though. Someone who moves his stolen goods."
Kraken's expression darkened. "I already looked into that. No luck. Either he's selling to different fences every time, or he's got someone really good at covering their tracks."
Eichi hummed, leaning back. "Alright. I'll start digging. Shouldn't take too long to find a lead."
Kraken nodded, pushing three filled vials toward him. "Then get to work. I'll expect results soon."
Eichi picked up the vials, twirling it between his fingers before slipping it into his coat pocket. He stood, stretching lazily. "Pleasure doing business with you, Kraken."
Kraken simply watched him. "Don't make me regret it, kid."
Eichi grinned. "Mah, don't worry about it."
With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the night, already having an idea of where to find his buyer.
---
Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, Eichi moved through the sleeping city, heading straight for the black market. Time wasn't on his side—it was already 2 a.m., and he had to be back before the joint training session with Aiko and Haru.
As he neared his destination, he activated his transformation jutsu, altering his height and face as he always did. By the time he slipped through the market's entrance, he was just another shadow in the underworld.
Navigating through the dimly lit corridors, he made his way to the apartment of the intel broker—the same one who had given him information on Kraken.
The moment he stepped inside, the man smirked. "Oh? Back so soon? Was my information not to your liking?"
Eichi ignored it and got straight to the point. "We need to talk. Privately. No prying eyes."
At that, the broker's smirk faded slightly. His eyes narrowed as he hit his knuckles against the table.
Almost instantly, two men emerged from one of the side rooms, moving in to flank Eichi.
Eichi didn't flinch. He simply waited.
The broker leaned forward, his voice low. "And what business do you have with me?"
"An investment. And an opportunity to make a fortune."
That got the broker's attention. His brow lifted slightly, curiosity flickering in his expression before he stood. "Follow me."
They exited the apartment, the iron door shutting behind them.
Eichi took note of their surroundings as they ascended the stairs. Judging by the number of flights, they were heading toward the top floor—the sixth story, the highest point in the building.
When they reached their destination, instead of an open hallway, there was a single reinforced door.
The broker knocked, and a small hatch slid open, revealing only a pair of eyes. "Purpose?"
"Business,"
"Card."
Without hesitation, the broker handed over a sleek, well-crafted business card—far too refined for a mere black-market informant.
A brief pause. Then, a light flickered on behind the door, and the card was handed back. "Welcome, Ijiki-san. The boss has been notified."
Eichi's eyes flicked toward the broker, scrutinizing him. "I thought I said I wanted to speak with you—not someone else."
The broker simply shrugged. "I'm just a worker here. Any investment proposals or business opportunities go through the one in charge of this section of the black market."
Before Eichi could respond, the heavy door groaned open.
What lay beyond was a stark contrast to the grimy exterior of the building. A palace, hidden in plain sight. The room was adorned with opulent chandeliers, plush velvet seating, and gold-lined décor. Every inch of the space dripped with luxury, the kind only the truly powerful—or truly corrupt—could afford.
The scent of expensive cigars and aged whiskey lingered in the air. Men in fine suits lounged in plush chairs, murmuring in hushed tones over drinks. Others played high-stakes games at tables adorned with velvet and gold trim. Every person in the room exuded wealth and power—the kind earned through blood, deception, or both.
The broker walked ahead, leading Eichi through the room. Eyes flicked toward him as they passed, some curious, others assessing, but none lingered for too long. Here, anonymity was currency, and business was all that mattered.
At the far end of the chamber, an intricately carved door stood guarded by two men, their suits done right but their posture unmistakably military. Without a word, the broker knocked twice, then pushed the door open.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted. The air felt heavier, charged with authority.
Behind a grand desk sat a man dressed in a deep crimson suit. He was older, but not frail—his posture was relaxed yet his muscles made him commanding, his silver hair neatly combed back.
A single ring adorned his finger, its emblem unmistakable to those who knew the black market's hierarchy.
The real power of this place.
"Sit."
Eichi didn't hesitate. He settled into the chair, leaning back just enough to appear at ease without letting his guard down.
The man laced his fingers together, watching him closely. "Ijiki tells me you have an investment proposal. I suggest you make it worth my time."
Eichi met his gaze with an easy smirk, then leaned forward, elbows resting lightly on the desk.
"How do you feel about owning a bunch of impenetrable walls?"
The man gestured for him to continue.
Eichi slipped a hand into his pocket, the movement subtle but enough to make the guards tense. Before they could react, their boss raised a hand, signaling them to stand down.
From his pocket, Eichi retrieved a small paper talisman, inked with intricate symbols in a language none could decipher. He placed it on the desk.
The man's frown deepened. "I hope, for your sake, this isn't some kind of a lowly joke," he said. The desk beneath his clasped hands groaned slightly, a visible crack forming in the wood.
Unfazed, Eichi merely placed a finger on the talisman. Instantly, a translucent blue cube emerged, expanding until it was the size of his head.
"This, gentlemen," he said, his voice smooth, "is a Seal Barrier. A containment field capable of withstanding forces that would tear through reinforced concrete. It can protect, and it can imprison."
The man's eyebrow arched, interest flickering in his eyes. "A bold claim," he mused. "But I don't deal in words alone. I'll need proof."
Eichi expected as much. "Naturally," he said with a slight shrug.
Reaching into his coat, he took another talisman—this one marked with a different, more aggressive pattern. The man leaned in slightly, curiosity overtaking skepticism.
Eichi carefully inserted the new tag into the barrier, then withdrew his hand. With a simple hand sign, he murmured, "Katsu."
The explosion was instant. A violent burst of fire and force erupted within the barrier, rattling the air with its sheer intensity. The translucent walls flexed under the impact but held firm, absorbing the force like an unbreakable prison.
As the smoke inside began to clear, the room remained deathly silent.
Eichi leaned back, satisfied. "Convinced?"
The guards were tense, their hands hovering near their weapons, but they didn't act—not without their boss's command.
Meanwhile, the man behind the desk remained still, his gaze fixed on the barrier as the last wisps of smoke curled and faded inside it. The only evidence of the explosion was the distorted air within the seal—no cracks, no damage, nothing.
Eichi waited. Let them process it.
Then, finally, the man exhaled through his nose. He tapped his fingers against the desk, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I hope you realize what you're sitting on here," he said, voice smooth. "A portable fortress? A perfect containment tool? This is beyond useful."
Eichi shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "That's why I'm here. I figured you'd see the value in it."
The man leaned back. "How many of these can you make?"
Eichi crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. "Depends on the payment. These aren't exactly easy to produce. My ink is limited, and I'm not about to bleed myself dry for free."
At that, the man let out a short chuckle, nodding as if he respected the honesty. "Fair enough." His fingers drummed lazily against the desk before he leaned forward slightly. "And what exactly do you want."
"74000 a tag."
"Expensive."
"But quite handy."
The man exhaled sharply, a mix between a scoff and a laugh. "You don't waste time, do you?"
Eichi shrugged. "You asked. I answered."
The room fell silent for a beat, tension settling between them like a game of cards where neither wanted to reveal their hand too soon.
The man's fingers tapped against the desk again, this time slower, more deliberate. "74,000 per tag," he repeated. "You're either confident or a fool."
Eichi smirked. "I prefer realist." He leaned back, arms still crossed. "You've seen what it can do. Anyone with half a brain can figure out the value of something like this. Strongholds, escape plans, high-profile security—it sells itself."
The man studied him for a while.
Then, with a slow nod, he conceded, "You're right. It is handy."
"But?" Eichi prompted, already sensing the counteroffer coming.
"But," the man echoed, "How does the average customer use such things?"
"Well, the customer needs to have a quirk. Every quirk has energy. This paper conducts energy, thus it activates the moment any energy from a quirk makes contact with it."
The man raised an eyebrow, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "So, it's not just some fancy magic trick—it actually integrates with quirks."
"Exactly," Eichi confirmed. "No extra devices, no complicated setup. Just touch and activate. The more controlled the quirk, the faster the seal responds. Simple, efficient, and adaptable."
The man nodded slowly, considering the implications. "And for those without quirks?"
Eichi shrugged. "Then they're out of luck. These aren't made for just anyone. But let's be real—most people in this market aren't exactly quirkless, are they?"
A smirk played at the man's lips. "Fair point." He tapped his fingers on the desk once more before leaning forward. "Alright. I see the potential. But I need a demonstration—on something alive this time."
"Got a volunteer?"
The man chuckled, snapping his fingers.
A door creaked open behind them, and heavy footsteps echoed through the room. A large, muscular man with a scar running down his jaw stepped forward, arms crossed.
"Meet Goro," the boss said with amusement. "He's tougher than he looks. If your tag can hold him, we have a deal."
Eichi eyed Goro for a moment before smirking. "Alright. Fair enough."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a fresh tag. With a flick of his wrist, the paper fluttered in his fingers before he pressed it against the ground.
"Try not to break anything important," Goro muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
The boss chuckled. "Goro, whenever you're ready."
The towering man didn't hesitate. In a flash, he lunged forward, aiming to grab Eichi with a speed that didn't match his bulk.
But it was what Eichi wanted.
The moment it made contact with it's area, glowing blue symbols pulsed across the paper. Then, in an instant as he made a hand sign, a translucent barrier erupted around the man, locking him in place.
Goro's arms froze mid-motion, his muscles straining as he tried to move. His face twisted in frustration as he pushed against the invisible force—but it didn't budge.
The boss's smirk widened as he watched. "Well, well, well..."
Eichi casually tucked his hands into his pockets, tilting his head slightly. "Told you. Can't do jack shit against something like that."
The man drummed his fingers against the desk, still watching Goro struggle. "And what about the explosives?"
"They're unavailable, unfortunately."
The boss raised an eyebrow. "What do you need?"
Eichi's smirk deepened. "Oh? Anything I need?"
"Fire away."
Eichi's smirk deepened. He took a slow step forward, watching the boss carefully. "Alright then," he mused. "High-grade intel—something hard to get. Metal sheets—thin but durable, strong enough to hold an inscription yet flexible enough to warp without cracking. And a proper workspace, somewhere… discreet."
Back home, explosive tags weren't just ink on flimsy parchment. The paper they used came from a special tree—one that not only absorbed chakra effectively but could withstand detonation long enough to amplify its destructive potential. Mass-producible, yet sturdy. A material fine-tuned for war.
But here? Paper was weak. Too fragile.
Metal, though—metal could change the game. If he could carve the right seals onto a sheet that could both absorb and regulate fire chakra, the results would be devastating. The more resistance, the greater the force when released. And with the right ink composition, the chakra-infused explosion could sustain itself, feeding off oxygen in a controlled chain reaction.
A modernized explosive tag. A battlefield equalizer.
The boss chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "What kind of intel?"
Goro let out a low grunt from inside the barrier, still struggling against the invisible force. His muscles bulged as he tried to break free, veins prominent on his arms.
The boss flicked his fingers, signaling for Eichi to release him.
Eichi held up a hand, forming a single sign with his fingers. The tag pulsed, then crumbled away into dust. The barrier shattered in an instant, and Goro staggered forward, catching himself just before he fell.
"A guy named Smoker."
The boss's smirk didn't waver, but his eyes sharpened.
"Smoker, huh?" He let the name roll off his tongue. "That's a slippery bastard to be asking about."
Eichi remained unfazed. "That a problem?"
The boss chuckled, shaking his head. "Not for me. But it does make me wonder—why's a kid like you looking for someone like him?"
The room tensed. The moment Eichi's illusion flickered, revealing his true form—a black-haired teenager with a scar tracing his mouth—the air shifted. Malice bled into the space, thick and suffocating. It was almost tangible, like a cold pressure pressing down on their lungs.
The guards reacted on instinct. Fingers tightened around triggers, quirks flaring to life, the dull clicks of safeties being switched off echoing in the heavy silence.
But the boss? He only chuckled, leaning back in his chair like this was the most amusing thing he'd seen all week.
"What do tell?"
The boss grinned. "Well, every time you used that barrier, your height flickered. It was brief—just a millisecond—but I still caught it."
The malice in the air grew heavier. One of the guards swallowed audibly. Another twitched, gripping his gun a little tighter.
"Interesting," he mused, eyes flicking over Eichi's real form. "Most people in your position would've doubled down on the disguise. But you? You let it drop. That tells me two things—you're either too confident to care or too dangerous for it to matter."
Eichi didn't respond immediately.
Then, finally, he tilted his head.
"Or maybe," he said, voice cold, "I just don't like being questioned."
The boss, however, simply grinned. "Fair enough." He laced his fingers together, elbows resting on the desk. "Smoker, then. You want him, I assume, for personal reasons?"
"That's none of your concern."
The boss exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "No, but it does make things more entertaining." His fingers tapped rhythmically against the wood. "Alright, kid. I'll play along. But information like that? It doesn't come cheap."
Eichi didn't miss a beat. "Then let's make a contract," he said before pausing. "You get me the metal sheets, and I'll begin production on three explosive tags. Once you deliver the intel, I'll hand them over—upfront. After that, you'll get one tag per week for a month. But once the contract ends, every additional tag will cost triple the price of a barrier tag."
It was a risk. Back home, barrier tags were far more valuable than explosives—but this world was different. Peaceful. The kind where large-scale destruction wasn't just frowned upon but would trigger an international manhunt for whoever was responsible.
And that's what made these tags so dangerous. Not just their power—but their subtlety. A thin sheet of metal was easy to conceal, easy to slip past security, easy to turn into a silent, invisible weapon.
The boss's fingers halted their rhythmic tapping, his smirk widening just slightly. "Triple the price, huh?" His gaze flickered with something unreadable—curiosity, suspicion, maybe even a hint of respect. "You really are a businessman at heart."
Eichi shrugged. "I'm practical. You want something rare, dangerous, and impossible to trace? You pay for it."
A low chuckle rumbled from the boss's throat. "Fair enough." He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "I can get you the metal sheets. High-quality, durable, and thin enough for your... craft. But intel on Smoker?" He let the words hang in the air. "That takes time."
Eichi's expression didn't waver. "How long?"
"A week. Maybe two."
"Unacceptable," Eichi shot back without hesitation. "Five days."
The boss let out an exaggerated sigh. "Five days? You must think I pull information out of thin air."
"You've got resources," Eichi countered. "Contacts. People who owe you favors. Someone out there knows something. You just have to squeeze the right throat." He leaned forward, voice dropping just slightly. "And I think you enjoy that part, don't you?"
The boss chuckled again, dark and knowing. "You've got sharp instincts, kid." He considered for a moment, then finally nodded. "Fine. Five days. But if I'm putting my people on this rush job, I expect my investment to be worth it."
Eichi smirked, leaning back once more. "Oh, it will be."
The deal was struck.
---
In a remote area of the high school grounds lay a small terrain designed like an arena—a dueling ground. It had proper stands for spectators and a dirt battleground in the center, well-worn from countless fights before.
A sea of students had gathered, first-years filling the stands with excitement, while some upperclassmen, drawn by the rumors, loomed above them, watching with interest.
And at the heart of it, the duelists stood across from each other.
Aiko. Naga.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" An old voice crackled through the speakers. Probably a teacher. "Today, we have a duel sanctioned by the academy and under the authority of Moriyama-sensei!"
At this, the once-buzzing crowd fell into silence, only to erupt moments later into eager applause and cheers.
"And our duelists!" The announcer continued, voice carrying over the noise. "None other than the rising star, Aiko of Class C! And the formidable contender for the best in Class A, Naga!"
Down in the dirt, Aiko stood firm, her breath slow and measured as she focused.
She was doing as Eichi had taught her—circulating her energy through her body, treating it like a warm-up. Her Wind Release quirk hummed inside her like a caged storm, waiting to be unleashed.
Naga, on the other hand, barely moved. His posture was rigid, arms crossed, his expression twisted into one of thinly-veiled contempt. Like he was above this.
He thinks this is easy, Aiko noted, watching him. Good.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the duel shall begin!"
The moment the announcer's voice signaled the start, Naga's hand slammed into the dirt.
"Plus Two Gravity!"
Aiko felt it instantly—the weight pressing down on her, not enough to force her to the ground, but enough to slow her movements to a crawl.
Her limbs tensed, muscles screaming at the sudden shift. But instead of panicking, she focused, shifting her arm in a controlled arc.
A gust of wind burst behind her, counteracting the force. Just like training, she reminded herself. Each step forward was a pain, but she refused to be pinned down.
Naga's expression twisted with irritation.
"Plus Four Crusher!" he snarled.
The air around Aiko grew unbearably heavy. Her knees buckled, and one of them hit the dirt.
Damn it...
Naga's slow, deliberate footsteps crunched over the dirt as he approached, each one carrying an air of superiority. He loomed over her, smirking.
"Surrender," he said, tilting his head. "I don't like hitting girls."
Aiko snorted. Even now, defiance burned in her eyes.
Fuck you.
Naga sighed, raising his fist. He didn't want to waste more time.
But just as he swung—
Aiko moved.
The moment the gravity lifted for his attack, she launched forward, her fist driven by a burst of wind.
The impact sent Naga flying backward. His smirk shattered into a grimace as he crashed into the dirt, skidding before he caught himself, rage contorting his face.
"You little—!" He scrambled up, eyes blazing.
Aiko was already rushing him again, faster than before. She was holding back?
"Super Catapult!"
An invisible force slammed into Aiko's chest, knocking her off balance and rolling her across the dirt. But she was back on her feet in an instant, wind whipping around her.
Aiko didn't stand still as she activated her quirk, instead she rushed at him, powered by her quirk to boost her speed, she quickly arrived at him and luanched a kick straight at his face.
Naga barely had a moment to recover before a howling gust struck him, making him stumble. He tried to dig his heels in—too late. He hit the ground hard.
Aiko didn't hesitate.
Using the momentum, she surged forward, wind boosting her speed, and swung her leg in a powerful arc.
Naga barely had time to process the incoming kick before her foot connected with his face.
His body hit the ground with a dull thud. Motionless.
For a brief moment, silence hung in the air.
Then—the crowd erupted. Cheers, gasps, shouts of disbelief. The noise swelled around her, but Aiko barely paid it any mind.
She stood over Naga's unconscious form, chest rising and falling, heart hammering against her ribs.
Tch. Top of Class A? Her smirk deepened. Should've been in Class A myself instead of wasting time with this bastard.
She exhaled sharply, shaking off the lingering tension in her limbs.
That's the third one.
The announcer's voice crackled through the speakers, barely audible over the roaring crowd.
"And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen! The winner—Aiko of Class C!"
Aiko barely reacted, only rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the last remnants of the fight. She spared a glance at Naga, still sprawled out cold on the ground.
Didn't even last long enough to be fun.
The referees rushed in, one kneeling beside Naga to check his condition while another motioned for Aiko to step back.
Weak. All that ego, all that talk—and he still couldn't back it up.
As she turned toward the stands, her eyes scanned the crowd. Among the cheering students, she spotted Eichi, leaning casually against the railing. His arms were crossed, but she could tell he was analyzing every movement she'd made.
Their eyes met.
Aiko smirked, tilting her head slightly in challenge. Satisfied?
Eichi didn't respond, but the slight quirk of his lips was enough.
She exhaled, stepping off the dueling ground just as the medical team arrived to carry Naga away. The whispers had already started.
"Did you see that? She barely broke a sweat!"
"Class C? Yeah, right. She should be in A."
"Yeah, I think that's more thanks to this Eichi, I saw them train one day early at dawn."
"Holy crap, she folded him!"
Aiko ignored the chatter, weaving her way through the dispersing crowd as the excitement buzzed around her. She could feel their stares, the growing curiosity that followed every fight she won. But it wasn't just her they were looking at.
It was him, too.
Over the past few weeks, as Eichi's name spread through the academy, more and more students had taken notice—not just of his fights, but of his training. And more importantly, who he trained with.
Aiko and another boy.
At first, no one thought much of it. Just another group trying to get stronger. But as the duels kept stacking up, as Aiko's movements became sharper, faster. People started paying attention.
Rumors spread.
"I heard he makes them train at insane hours, like before sunrise."
"Not just that—he doesn't hold back. I saw him knock Aiko flat on her ass once."
"No way. She's that strong, and he's stronger?"
"He's gotta be. And that other guy? The one he trains too? Bet he's next."
More students started showing up in the mornings, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever Eichi was doing. Some were just curious. Others were looking for an opportunity.
Because if Aiko could go from Class C to demolishing one of Class A's top contenders...
Then what would happen to the next person under Eichi's training?
Aiko could hear the murmurs following her as she walked, but she didn't care. She wasn't doing this for recognition.
She was doing this because she had a goal.
And Eichi... he had the tools to help her reach it.
As she stepped out of the arena grounds, she spotted him, arms crossed, watching the crowd with his usual unreadable expression. He didn't clap, didn't congratulate her—he just met her gaze and raised an eyebrow.
Aiko smirked. "That good enough for you?"
Eichi pushed off the tree, slipping his hands into his pockets. "You were slow in the first half."
"Tch. I had to adjust to the gravity. Give me a break."
He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You let him control the pace for too long. Next time, don't wait for an opening, create one."
Aiko rolled her eyes but didn't argue. He was right, and she knew it.
Just then, a few students from the crowd started approaching, hesitant, unsure. She didn't need to turn around to know what they wanted.
Eichi noticed too. His gaze flickered past her before landing back on her face. "Here they come."
Aiko clicked her tongue. "You handle it. I need a damn shower."
She was already exhausted from the fight, and the last thing she wanted was to deal with a bunch of wide-eyed students who suddenly thought she was some kind of legend. She had trained for this, worked for it—they had just been watching.
Without another word, she strode off, leaving Eichi to face the small crowd that had gathered, curiosity burning in their eyes.
Eichi sighed, shifting his weight lazily to one side. He observed the faces in front of him—some eager, some uncertain, and a few who looked like they were just there because everyone else was.
"If you're looking to get some pieces of that," he said, jerking his chin toward Aiko's retreating figure, "then prove it."
He pulled a small stack of folded papers from his pocket and held them out.
"Follow these instructions to the letter. No shortcuts, no half-assing it. When you think you've got it down, then I'll notify Aiko to test you. And trust me—she'll know if you skipped a step."
A few students hesitated before reaching for the papers, their fingers brushing against them like they were holding something sacred. Others exchanged uncertain glances, as if debating whether they were actually willing to commit.
One of them, a second-year, frowned. "What if we don't want to train under Aiko? What if we want you to train us?"
Eichi smirked, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Then you're not ready."
That shut them up.
With that, he turned on his heel, already done with the conversation. Whether they followed through or not wasn't his concern.
Either they wanted to get stronger, or they didn't. Simple as that.
---
In a well-lit office filled with neatly stacked papers and the faint aroma of tea, a creature resembling a rat sat comfortably in a polished chair. His small paws were steepled together, keen eyes glimmering with amusement as he muttered to himself.
The rise of Eichi and Aiko had not gone unnoticed. The whispers among students, the unorthodox training methods, the results—oh, how fascinating it all was. U.A had always been a breeding ground for exceptional talent, but this?
Nezu reached for his teacup, taking a slow sip as his mind pieced together the puzzle before him. Eichi... he's different. Not just strong. Not just skilled. But efficient. His methods weren't something one simply stumbled upon. They were honed. It wasn't just talent—it was experience.
And that made things very interesting.
A quiet chuckle escaped him, light yet filled with intent. He swayed slightly in his chair, the amusement in his expression growing.
"Oh, little Eichi," he murmured, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "You've certainly made things... entertaining. I'll even overlook your little escapade into the night."
He took another sip of tea, the warmth spreading through him. For now.