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The time was 7:30 p.m., at the exit gate of the training camp site. The background was a forest burning under ghostly blue flames, making the night appear even more eerie and surreal.
The figures present: a silent black-haired young man at the gate, Konata Izumi with her long blue hair standing at the far end of the exit corridor, and Aizawa Shota positioned at the very front.
"I'm really curious," Konata said, her tone light but sharp, "I went through all that trouble to act perfectly normal—how exactly did you figure out something was off about me?"
She lazily brushed the strands of hair hanging in front of her face with her fingers, speaking before Aizawa could respond, her voice calm and unhurried.
"Whether it was during the 'U.S.J. Incident' or the Hosu attack, my performance should have been flawless. There shouldn't have been any cracks to find, Aizawa-sensei. Can you at least tell me how?"
Her tone sounded the same as always, but to Aizawa Shota, everything about the girl in front of him felt different. Completely unfamiliar.
It was like a clown removing a ridiculous mask, revealing the cold reality underneath.
The prodigy everyone had praised—the rising star of a new generation, a genius with power rivaling pro heroes even as a student—
Whether it was her brilliance in the 'J Incident' or her dazzling performance at the U.A. Sports Festival—
Everything had been an act.
Aizawa's brows furrowed as he took a cautious step forward.
"Izumi. I don't have time for games. The enemy has already invaded. The person behind you is one of them. Get out of here—hide behind me."
"Enemy?" Konata tilted her head slightly, her expression almost mocking.
"Enemy? Aizawa-sensei… aren't you my enemy?"
A primal sense of danger exploded through Aizawa's nerves. Years of instinct as a pro hero had him vanish from his spot in a flash—
A jagged trench split the ground where he had stood. The flames scattered debris and embers across the ground.
And there she was. The girl now held a flaming blade, a massive sword of firelight resting in her hand like it weighed nothing.
"You dodged. Not bad. As expected of a pro hero."
The weapon in her hand slowly faded away as Konata glanced at him—Aizawa with his hair floating around his shoulders, capture scarf circling his body like a predator ready to strike.
She sighed, almost disappointed.
"Such a pain… your Quirk completely counters me. I was hoping to take you out with a surprise attack, but I guess I underestimated you, Sensei."
"If you still have the decency to call me 'Sensei,'" Aizawa said, his voice sharp but steady, "then as your teacher, I have no problem teaching a disobedient student a hard lesson."
No hesitation. After dodging that sudden attack, Aizawa darted forward again, aiming to close the distance.
"When this is over," he added flatly, "you're writing me a twenty-thousand-word reflection."
Konata smirked, even as her body reacted on instinct, retreating swiftly down the corridor.
"A reflection? Yeah, no. I'm way past that phase, Sensei."
She flicked a finger against her cheek and nimbly evaded the capture scarf whipping toward her. With a burst of speed, she retreated out of the corridor and into the open.
"Aizawa-sensei, I'm not fighting you. And I'm definitely not letting you catch me. Sure, your Quirk counters mine—but only if you can see me."
She patted the black-haired young man on the shoulder in passing, giving him a quick, casual look that almost said, good luck out there. Then, without another word, her figure blurred and vanished into the forest, swallowed by the shadows and blue flames.
Her Iron Sand Storm—with a range of fifty meters and a half-second casting delay—activated the moment she left Aizawa's line of sight. As her form shot through the forest, she thought grimly to herself:
There's no way I'm letting him catch me. That's my bottom line.
As for the black-haired stranger… well, in a fight against Aizawa, she doubted he'd last long. But that wasn't her problem.
Not my circus, not my monkeys, she mused with a sharp grin. If he's reckless enough to take on two pro heroes alone, then the least he can do is buy me some time.
"Amen," she whispered under her breath, offering him a fleeting, ironic prayer as she dashed deeper into the woods.
She didn't take the cleared paths. Instead, she dove into a narrow trail, ignoring everything else. At best, the stranger could buy her a few minutes. That was all the time she had to run—and she wasn't arrogant enough to think she could truly shake Aizawa once he got serious.
The others should be fine, she reassured herself. Even if this was a surprise attack, the pros had to have been ready. They'd never knowingly put the students in real danger.
But then her mind snagged on a detail.
Wait… that guy said the Wild, Wild Pussycats' Pixie-Bob was seriously injured.
If the heroes had been prepared and she was still taken down… that meant something far more dangerous was at play tonight.
Konata's steps faltered as she tilted her head up, staring at the night sky painted with ghostly blue firelight.
"These guys… they're not like the random thugs from the 'U.S.J. Incident,' and they're definitely not like the mindless Nomu from Hosu. If there are people in this group who are truly dangerous…"
She pulled her phone from her pocket—one of the few things she had kept with her. Originally, she'd planned to use it during the test-of-courage event, blasting creepy BGM tracks like Mary's Lullaby, Friday the 13th, or The Red Wedding. She'd been so excited for it, convinced she could scare her classmates half to death.
But now, all of that was irrelevant.
The moment she attacked Aizawa, she'd burned her bridge. There was no turning back.
She exhaled slowly, lifting her phone in her hand.
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In some ways, Konata Izumi was not afraid of death. To her, death was merely another form of existence. Very few could understand this perspective, and no one knew what she had truly been through. No one could see through her—just as she herself couldn't fully understand who she was.
But not fearing death didn't mean she could disregard the loss of life. What should have been a training camp filled with good memories had already turned into a nightmare, enough to make her furious. And if someone she knew ended up gravely injured—or worse, dead—tonight, she would never forgive herself.
Originally, she had underestimated All For One. But now she understood that from the moment she agreed to his deal, she had unknowingly stepped into the chessboard he had prepared for her. If he was hellbent on pulling her into the League of Villains, then this was clearly just the beginning—there was no way his plan ended here.
It didn't take long before her call connected—barely ten seconds had passed before the line clicked.
"Kurogiri, you did well this time. Fast response."
The man, still sitting in his chair while a doctor patched him up, glanced at the caller ID with mild surprise. He didn't answer immediately; instead, he contacted Kurogiri first to offer a brief compliment.
Kurogiri, in the middle of preparing to act: "..."
When he finally answered the call, the man spoke with his usual calm, slightly amused tone.
"I, Konata, want money."
For a moment, All For One wondered if he'd misheard her. His long life had exposed him to all kinds of people and all kinds of situations, but this… this left him doubting reality itself.
He had predicted many possible reactions when she called. Anger, cold indifference — he had prepared flawless responses for them all. He had rehearsed his words in his head, ready to say things like, They don't really trust you. Human trust is always fragile. Or, You've done so much for them, but in the end, who do they suspect first? Or even, I've done nothing except show you the
truth and darkness of this world.
He was confident that once the seed of doubt was planted, she would eventually be drawn to his side, no matter how long it took. From her potential alone, she was more than worth the effort. After all, hadn't he already successfully manipulated All Might's predecessor? And beyond that… there was their supposed "father-daughter bond," however tenuous it may have been.
But all that planning, all that strategizing — destroyed in an instant by five simple words.
"I, Konata, want money."
Wasn't she supposed to be furious? Wasn't she supposed to doubt him? She had risked herself countless times for those heroes, and now she was being suspected over baseless accusations. A normal person would have been livid.
So what the hell was "I, Konata, want money"?
"Money, duh." Her tone was infuriatingly casual. "You're my boss now. And as my boss, shouldn't you be paying your loyal underling? I expect a salary, you know."
The silence on the other end stretched, and her tone turned playfully dark.
"Don't tell me you're not planning to pay me. Because if you don't, I swear I'll make you go viral online. I even have the headline ready: 'League of Villains—Biggest Crime Syndicate Bankrupt! Nomu Factory Collapses! All For One, Deadbeat Boss, Ran Off with Shigaraki Tomura, Leaving Unpaid Minions Behind! Clearance Sale—Nomus originally priced at one, two, even three million, now just ten bucks each!' Sound familiar? Yeah, I thought so."
All For One suddenly regretted ever letting her join the League. One of these days, he was certain, this girl was going to give him an aneurysm.
"...Fine," he said finally, his tone sharp. "If you want to be paid, then prove your worth. It seems you've accepted your current situation—good. But now, show me some sincerity."
Forcing the conversation back on track, he continued smoothly.
"You have, at most, ten minutes. That's as much as I can stall. All Might will arrive in ten minutes, and within twenty-five minutes, the police and several pro heroes will follow. Not that it matters—by the time All Might arrives, it will already be over. That means you have eighteen minutes left. Retrieve as many League members as you can. There are ten of them. How many you save depends on you."
"Ten of them, huh? So they're all just expendable pawns to you." Her voice was dry. "Whatever. Not my problem."
She paused, then added almost casually, "Just curious, though—is Kurogiri on that list?"
All For One ignored the question.
"They each have their missions," he said coldly. "Call them pawns if you wish. But be warned—some of them are dangerous, true criminals who won't hesitate to kill. I won't waste time arguing with you. Just remember—every second counts. The longer you wait, the higher the body count among those students will climb."
His voice turned sharp, edged with cruel amusement.
"All the choices are yours, my 'daughter.' Let's see what kind of answer you can give me. Good luck."
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The line went dead.
Somewhere far away, Konata stared at her phone, expression blank.
"...This guy's worse than a gacha game dev," she muttered.
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During the time Konata was on the phone with the League's big boss, deep in the outer perimeter of the forest, two figures stood side by side.
One of them was the black-haired young man Konata had encountered at the facility's entrance earlier. The other was a bizarre man in a full-body skintight suit, even wearing a hood that concealed most of his features.
The black-haired young man placed his hand on the trunk of a tree, pale-blue flames flickering from his palm, spreading and igniting into a blaze that began devouring the forest.
"Twice, your clone's gone. See? I told you, we shouldn't have bothered with that girl—no, wait, we have to protect our teammates."
The bizarre man spoke in his usual fragmented, nonsensical tone.
"Expected. But that girl's reaction… surprising. Make another clone for me," Dabi muttered, raising his head toward the night sky now dyed orange by his flames. His expression was as flat as ever.
"Those Pro Heroes… we can't let them act freely. I still have something I want to verify."
"No way. Nope."
The two of them formed the League's outer defensive ring. Further inward, a wide radius of the forest was blanketed by a thick, choking purple mist.
At the very center of that mist stood a boy wearing what looked like a school uniform and a gas mask, his age not far from U.A. students.
"Oh? Looks like someone's actually heading my way," came a voice laced with amusement from beneath the mask.
"Well, well… this is a prestigious school. Not too surprising that some students noticed. But your movements—" he chuckled softly, "I have them all tracked."
Calmly, as though this were all a game, he produced a pistol from who-knows-where and, with a playful smile, turned the barrel toward the forest and pulled the trigger.
No scream followed. Instead, there was a sharp, crystalline sound, like ice shattering.
The boy froze. His eyes went wide as if realizing something—
"Die!!"
The violent roar from above was followed by a crushing impact.
Bakugo Katsuki and Todoroki Shoto—
Why are they here?!
The thought barely flickered through his mind before Bakugo slammed him into the ground, pain tearing through his back as his mask was ripped away. Bakugo's grip was harsh but precise—brutal enough to pin, yet careful not to kill. The heat radiating from his palm made one thing painfully clear:
His life was entirely in Bakugo's hands.
His eyes darted to the pistol lying several meters away. Any hope of resistance evaporated. The poisonous mist blanketing the forest dissipated instantly.
"Tell me," Bakugo snarled, yanking the boy up by his collar, rage twisting his expression, "what's the deal with that girl you're calling a mole?"
"Mandalay said it in her telepathy message."
"It's… it's just what it sounded like," the boy stammered. Despite his bravado, he was just another misguided Stain fanatic. Pointing toward the lodge, his voice trembled as he continued, "That blue-haired girl—Konata Izumi—she's the one who leaked the camp's location. She compiled all of your Quirks and weaknesses. Our objective tonight—"
The words were cut off by Bakugo's fist slamming into his jaw, knocking him unconscious.
"Bakugo," Todoroki said coldly as he approached, "you should've let him finish."
His voice was calm, but it carried a sharp chill.
"Even if we've been granted permission to use our Quirks for combat, attacking someone who's already neutralized is still illegal."
"Do you believe it?" Bakugo asked suddenly, straightening with a glare.
"Do you think she's the traitor?"
"Absolutely not," Todoroki answered without hesitation, exhaling a plume of frosty breath.
"Anyone could be the mole… but not her. Something else is going on here. Something we don't know yet."
"Then let's find her," Bakugo snapped, eyes blazing toward the facility. According to Mandalay's telepathic update, Konata had already broken through Aizawa's perimeter and was heading toward the main battlefield. If they went back the same route, they'd probably intercept her.
"That damn idiot… she's not getting away with this."
At the same time, Mandalay's message reached everyone except the League and Konata herself. Almost no one who actually knew her believed the claim in that message.
No one.
Aizawa's attempt to plant a seed of caution was, effectively, wasted. Every student who cared about her now had only one thought:
Find Konata.
And among them, none were more desperate than Bakugo and Todoroki.
Thanks to the early warning, Class 1-A had avoided being taken out by Mustard's paralyzing gas in the initial ambush. When the League revealed themselves, the students followed the evacuation plan, retreating toward the facility—everyone except those assigned to lure the villains out.
But no plan is perfect.
Pixie-Bob had been ambushed and severely injured. The students acting as bait lost their backup and went silent. The situation was spiraling into chaos.
Still, aside from Pixie-Bob's critical injuries, no other students had been hurt yet. Under Iida Tenya's leadership, they were retreating in an orderly manner, while Aizawa was racing toward Mandalay's position to reinforce her.
But with villains roaming the forest and clashing with scattered students, skirmishes were erupting everywhere. Class 1-A wasn't weak, especially those who'd already tasted real combat.
And elsewhere—on a high, jagged cliff hidden from view—Midoriya Izuku teetered on the brink of death.
The night was far from over.
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