The evening sun cast an amber glow across the classroom, bathing the rows of desks in soft, slanted light. Class 1-A sat in quiet anticipation. The usual buzz was dulled—less excitement, more reflection.
Aizawa stood at the front, covered in bandages , but his tone was crisp.
"Nice work," he said. "You'll have tomorrow off and the following day to recuperate. I'm sure the pros who watched the festival will recruit some of you."
He glanced around the room briefly.
"We'll review draft forms when you return. For now—get some rest. You're dismissed."
He walked out without another word.
Chairs scraped. Conversations broke out in small clusters. Laughter from the back of the room.
Whispers up front.
Itami stood slowly, grabbing his bag, but something caught his eye as he slung it over his shoulder.
Momo sat still at her desk, hands folded neatly, staring at the edge of her notebook. Her face was composed—too composed—but her shoulders were drawn just slightly in, like she was bracing herself against nothing.
She smiled as Jiro said something beside her, but it didn't linger.
Itami didn't say anything. Just watched for a second longer than he meant to.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out. Kaze's voice came on the other side, loud and casual.
"Hey Itami, saw you on TV! You should've seen everyone's faces when you walked out in the finals! Anyway—I'm outside, can you pick up the pace please?"
Itami ended the call without replying and headed for the door.
He didn't look back.
The school building buzzed with after-class movement—students spilling into the halls, voices bouncing between lockers, sunlight spilling across polished floors.
Itami stepped outside, the warmth of late afternoon hitting him as he descended the steps. Just past the front gate, a black SUV idled by the curb.
Kaze leaned against the passenger door, arms crossed, sunglasses resting on his forehead.
He waved casually. "Took you long enough. I was starting to think you were gonna brood on the roof for a few hours."
Itami gave a faint smirk and opened the door without a word, sliding into the passenger seat.
Kaze jumped into the driver's side, tossing his shades into the center console.
"Y'know, I watched the whole thing. Not gonna lie—I thought you were gonna torch Bakugo. That walkout? Bold and dumb move."
Itami buckled in. "Didn't feel like fighting."
"Yeah. I got that." Kaze pulled onto the road. "The way you caught his wrist though? Chef's kiss."
Itami exhaled through his nose—half a laugh, half nothing.
They rode in silence for a few blocks, city buildings giving way to wider roads. The air grew quieter, cooler.
Then Itami frowned.
"...This isn't the way to the village."
Kaze kept his eyes on the road, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It's not."
Itami glanced sideways. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see. Trust me, It will be worth it."
He turned down a narrow street lined with wooden awnings and cozy storefronts. Neon signs in Hangul lit the edges of the early dusk. Itami caught the scent before he saw it—grilled meat, spice, smoke.
Kaze flicked the blinker and pulled into a small lot.
A Korean BBQ place. Familiar. Warm.
And just outside, leaning against the wall—
Akuma. Lyra. Yukiko. Waiting.
Itami stepped out of the car, the scent of sizzling meat thick in the air.
"Surprise," Kaze said with a shrug, closing his door.
The sizzling of meat filled the air, savory scents wrapping around the table like a warm welcome. A small spread of side dishes cluttered the center—kimchi, dipping sauces, rice bowls, and lettuce wraps. Kaze slid into the booth beside Itami, who had just entered, blinking at the unexpected sight.
Akuma was already half a bottle deep into sake, sleeves rolled up, a grin tugging at the edge of his mouth.
"Surprise," he said, raising his glass.
Lyra was next to him, snacking on spicy pork belly while tossing a playful smirk Itami's way. "About time you showed up, sports star."
Yukiko, quiet as ever, smiled softly. "You did really well, Itami. We wanted to celebrate with your achievements at the festival."
Itamis face burned red a bit as he blinked. "Wait... this was planned?"
"Well," Kaze said, plopping some short rib on the grill, "With everything going on and you getting second place, we figured why not."
Lyra leaned across the table. "You could have gotten first place but you decided to walk off like some drama nerd. Also we had to keep this buffoon from blowing the surprise early." She jerked her thumb at Akuma, who simply shrugged.
"I only told one person," Akuma said, unbothered.
"You told your hero friend, Ingenium something. I forget his name." Yukiko added gently.
"Exactly. Just one."
Itami couldn't help the small smirk that escaped. He sat down as Kaze passed him a plate.
"Speak of which," Itami added after a beat, glancing up from his food, "The clan opened up a brand new hero agency and Akuma here is the face of it."
There was a beat of silence.
Lyra nearly dropped her chopsticks. "Wait—what?!"
Itami, scooping rice, said it plainly. "Didn't get broadcast much, but yeah. Flameborn Warden here is the clan's first hero."
Kaze raised a brow and let out a sharp laugh. "Flameborn Warden? Bro, you sound like a raid boss in an MMO."
"I didn't pick it," Akuma replied with a grin.
"Marketing department—or whoever's running the agency now."
Itami's hand froze slightly as he reached for the grill.
That line stuck.
Who's running the agency?
Yukiko leaned in, blinking. "So you're really a pro Hero now?"
Akuma's grin faded just a little. "Apparently."
Lyra narrowed her eyes. "And you didn't think to tell us?"
Akuma rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't want to steal the spotlight."
As he placed a piece of meat on the grill, Itami spoke again—quieter, but sharper.
"Wait... which family is controlling the agency?"
A pause.
All eyes turned to Akuma.
He hesitated. "I believe... Elder Kiyoko is overseeing it."
There was a long silence.
Itami muttered, "Now him too? Both the bald heads used to clown on the idea of pro heroes. Now they're head over heels for the title."
Akuma gave a short chuckle, but the air had shifted just slightly—still warm, but with something sitting just beneath it.
Akuma leaned back in his seat, eyeing Itami over the rim of his drink. "You know... you've been acting like someone stole your lunch money."
Itami didn't look up from the grill. "That so?"
"Yeah," Akuma said, more pointed now. "Even during the festival. You looked pissed from start to finish."
Yukiko stayed quiet, sipping her tea.
But Lyra chimed in, poking her chopsticks into her rice. "Especially that first match. I mean, you cooked that Tetsutetsu guy like he stole your money."
Kaze smirked. "They're probably questioning if you went overkill on the kid."
Itami stayed quiet for a moment. The meat sizzled between them. He flipped a piece absently.
"...I had a lot on my mind."
Lyra blinked. "So you always do?"
Itami's eyes didn't leave the grill. "This time it was different."
Akuma watched him carefully. Saw the stiffness in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened. Akuma let the silence stretch before breaking it with a grin.
"Well, damn," he said, waving his drink lazily in the air. "Sounds like you need a beach, a drink, and zero expectations."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm just throwing it out there," Akuma said with a grin, "but what if we all took a break sometime soon? I don't know... somewhere sunny. Somewhere fun."
Yukiko looked up. "Like where?"
Akuma leaned in with a grin that was just a little too practiced.
"...Hawaii."
The table paused.
Kaze blinked. "You serious?"
Akuma shrugged. "Think about it. No elders, no clan agencies breathing down our necks. Just sand, ocean, and sunscreen."
"You're allergic to sunscreen," Lyra reminded him.
Akuma waved her off. "Not the point. The point is—it'd be a chance to reset. You all could use it."
He glanced at Itami, a sly grin forming.
"Especially you. And now that you're starting to notice girls, we can soak up the sun and check out all the American ladies in bikinis."
He downed the last of his drink and casually opened himself another.
Kaze barked a laugh. "You're unbelievable."
Lyra slapped Akuma on the shoulder. "You're such a pig, you know that?"
Akuma grinned wide. "What—jealous he'll be looking at someone who isn't you?"
Lyra scoffed and grabbed a lettuce wrap like it had personally offended her.
"Please," she muttered, eyes flicking away. "He'd need actual game first."
But her voice was lower than usual, and a faint tint of red crept up her cheeks as she stuffed the wrap into her mouth a little too quickly—like she needed an excuse not to say anything else.
Kaze raised an eyebrow but said nothing, grinning quietly to himself.
Akuma caught it, too. He leaned back with a smug look. "Huh. Looks like someone's flustered."
"Shut up," Lyra said instantly, not looking up.
Itami blinked once. Then went back to grilling like he hadn't heard a word.
Later that night
The moonlight gave way to shadowed trees and a winding path as Akuma made his way up a stone path toward the Draco-Crest Shrine. The air smelled faintly of incense and ash, the kind that clung to old walls and older secrets.
A chill went down his spine as the wind stirred. The moon sat low—bright, but watching.
At the top of the path, just past the Draco carved pillars, Misaki waited.
She sat on the edge of the elevated platform, legs crossed, her robes billowing slightly in the wind. Her long white hair was braided and looped into a loose crown, her eyes sharp as ever, like she'd been expecting him.
Akuma stopped a few steps away and bowed his head slightly.
"Talofa, tinā matua."
Misaki's eyes softened. "What brings you fanau a le fanau"
Akuma stood in silence beside the shrine steps, eyes locked on the weathered stone beneath his feet.
Then, quietly—
"It's about Itami. I saw something."
He walked forward and sat beside Misaki. The wind moved gently between them, rustling the lanterns lining the path.
"When he fought a metal kid today—something changed," Akuma said, eyes distant. "His presence... It felt ancient. And wrong."
Misaki's expression didn't change, but her fingers interlocked slowly in her lap.
"Anything else?" she asked.
Akuma nodded. "Yeah. When he let go—even just for a moment—he had markings running up his face. His right eye turned the color purple, it felt like he wasn't his anymore."
Misaki exhaled slowly, eyes fixed ahead.
"There's something you should know," she said softly.
"A story very few are allowed to hear... and fewer survive long enough to understand."
Akuma turned his head. "I'm listening."
She turned to face him. Looked at him.
"The Wyrm-Crest bloodline was gifted power by the dragons—long before quirks, before ink, before memory. We were chosen. Blessed."
She tapped her chest lightly, just over her heart.
"But our power isn't a mutation. It isn't a quirk either.
It's a tether."
Akuma's brow creased.
"A tether to what?"
"To the dragons themselves," she said. "Each member of our bloodline is bonded—linked to a draconic spirit. We draw our strength through that bond."
She let the silence hold before continuing.
"You know the elemental affinities—fire, earth, water, lightning, and light. But there's one more. One we do not name unless we must."
Akuma's voice dropped. "What is it?"
She stared forward, her voice quiet. Heavy.
"Dark."
She let the words settle.
"Once every five hundred years, a child is born with it. They bear the signs—a single purple eye. Black markings that rise like veins across the skin. When it manifests, the clan doesn't hesitate."
Akuma's stomach twisted.
"Hesitate what?"
Misaki didn't flinch.
"To kill them."
The words dropped like a sword on stone.
"It's not justice," she added. "It's fear. Pure and old. The last one the clan failed to kill... was in 1945."
She paused. The incense crackled faintly beside them.
"The world talks about two bombs dropped on Japan. But only one was a weapon."
Her voice lowered.
"The second... was a child."
Akuma blinked. "You're serious."
"She was born with the curse. Her dark affinity triggered too early for the elders then to catch. They say the explosion came from the sky, but I've seen the scrolls. It was dragonfire. And we were lucky to stop it."
Akuma stared ahead. "So what is Itami tethered to?"
Misaki's hands tightened slightly in her lap.
"Its true name is Tenebris... but most only call it the Dark Dragon. A creature so twisted in spirit, even the dragons casted it out. Its voice is corruption. Its presence—chaos itself."
Akuma swallowed. "So why didn't the elders kill Itami?"
Misaki's gaze softened—barely.
"Because of his father."
"Icarus believed there was another way. That we didn't have to keep killing our own. Hanzo and I believed in him. The others... didn't."
Her voice dropped again. This time not in mystery, but in age. Weariness.
"For years, Itami showed no signs till his first spark. Black. Acient. We thought that since he never showed any signs till then, it was a chance for change. But the attack changed everything."
She turned back to the burning incense, watching the smoke drift away like breath.
"That fire wasn't natural. It was Tenebris. Reaching out. Taking hold. Itami doesn't remember what happened that day... but if what you saw is true..."
She trailed off.
Then finally, in a whisper:
"We are stepping into unknown territory. The dragon is stirring."
She looked at Akuma.
"And all we can do now is pray he learns to control it—
before it controls him."
The incense had nearly burned to ash.
The coals in the shrine's brazier dimmed. Akuma sat in silence long after Misaki had finished speaking, the weight of her words pressing into the stillness around them.
Tenebris.The name echoed like thunder held in his chest.
Meanwhile...
A pale beam of early morning sunlight cut through the blinds of Itami's dorm room, landing across his face. He blinked awake slowly, eyes adjusting to the light. His muscles still ached faintly from the matches, but his body was quiet now. No tension. No sparks.
He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, eyes scanning the room. His phone was dark on the desk. Nothing urgent. Just static peace. Then—
Bzzt.
A low vibration hummed from the small watch on his nightstand.
He glanced over.
The display pulsed softly: "PRIORITY: SHADOW SCALE"
It clicked open with a single press.
No voice message. No video. Just a line of text
"Briefing at 1800. Do not be late."
Itami's eyes narrowed slightly. The haze of sleep cleared.
Here I thought I could rest.