Space carried a quiet that only ancient beings understood. A quiet full of memory, of history, of echoes older than planets. Ikaris drifted through the void, eyes half closed, letting the cold starlight wash over him. Out here, sound was imagination; silence was absolute. It was a silence he once called home.
But even in that silence—where stars hummed beneath perception and nebulae glowed like ancient wounds—there was a pull he could no longer ignore.
A memory surfaced.
Humans gathered around a fire. Primitive, loud, unrefined. They argued, wrestled, laughed, competed with childish pride, and celebrated with reckless joy. They pushed each other, shaped each other, became more around one another. Their chaos was a force no civilisation had ever replicated.
It hit him—understanding did not come from watching humans from above.
It came from walking among them.
He floated, suspended between past and present, as another fragment of memory drifted through him—Ajak's voice, patient and warm:
"To know a people, Ikaris, you must walk at their pace. Not ahead. Not behind."
Back then, he dismissed it as sentiment. Now, alone between galaxies and responsibility, he felt the truth of it settle inside him like a seed waking.
He glanced back at Earth, glowing blue against the dark, pulsing with life, conflict, hope, absurdity—and something else, something undefinable that tugged at him like gravity.
Earth shone below him, blue and burning with life. He angled downward. The moment he hit atmosphere, he softened his descent, letting the heat shimmer around him like harmless flame. Clouds rushed past, their vapour brushing against his face like soft hands welcoming him back.
For the first time in weeks, he didn't hide.
His armour shifted—nanotech flowing like liquid—turning into simple clothing. A dark hoodie, jeans, sneakers. Human attire. Humble. Detaching him from the godlike presence he once carried.
He stepped into Tokyo.
Noise hit him instantly—voices, engines, horns, laughter, arguments. Humanity in all its rawness. A soundscape of a species endlessly colliding with itself. He wandered through the streets, letting the city wash over him.
The way humans smiled even when exhausted.The way they rushed, always moving toward something.The way strangers avoided eye contact, yet unconsciously adjusted their steps so no one collided.The way a child cried loudly, and the mother soothed with quiet apologies.The way street vendors shouted with pride about the food they had made with their own hands.
So fragile.So chaotic.So loud.
And yet so… beautiful.
Every emotion here was sharp, unfiltered. Their joys were reckless; their sorrows, devastating. Their lives burned bright because they were so painfully short.
A group of teenagers jogged past him, wearing U.A. tracksuits, laughing loudly as they argued about who would win "this year." Their energy was unrestrained, their confidence unshaken. They reminded him of fledgling cosmic warriors—untamed, unrefined, but full of promise.
Then he felt it—a concentrated pulse of excitement. Thousands of humans moving together, united by anticipation. A gathering. A celebration. Something important.
He followed it.
The U.A. Sports Festival stadium rose in front of him like a titan of concrete and sound. Massive screens flashed images of hopeful young heroes. The crowds surged toward the gates—parents holding flags, children bouncing in excitement, tourists recording everything, office workers cheering with the same enthusiasm as soldiers before battle.
He bought a ticket. Ritual mattered. It grounded him in the experience.
Inside, the energy vibrated through the air like electricity. People waved banners, shouted encouragement, devoured food from colourful stalls, and made predictions with the seriousness of divine prophecy.
Ikaris sat near the top stands, shadows folding around him gently. Invisible, unnoticed—yet observing everything.
Below, the energy swelled as the ceremony began.
Midnight walked out first. Commanding yet flamboyant, her presence stirred thunder from the audience. Humans adored her—her confidence, her flair, her unapologetic personality. She was a living example of humanity's strange relationship with spectacle.
Then came the pledge.
Bakugo Katsuki stepped forward—fire wrapped in flesh.
"I'm gonna win."
The simplicity of it. The arrogance. The honesty.
It made Ikaris smile—not mockingly, but with something close to admiration. He recognised that fire. He had seen it in warriors who refused extinction. In civilisations that clawed back from the brink. In himself, once.
The first event began.
And chaos—glorious chaos—erupted.
Students sprinted forward, exploding into motion like arrows fired from a single thunderclap. Ikaris sensed the sheer will behind each of them.
Todoroki froze the ground with elegance that belied his turmoil.Bakugo tore through the air, explosions lighting the sky like miniature suns.Yaoyorozu forged her tools from pure thought—creation born from intellect.Kirishima crashed through obstacles with raw, unbreakable resolve.
Every student was a different interpretation of human potential.
Then Midoriya.
He didn't dominate by power—he dominated by mind.Every step was calculated.Every obstacle—deconstructed.Every threat—turned into opportunity.
Ikaris leaned forward.
He saw something in the boy's eyes—a weight, a storm, a spark. He recognised the look of someone who had chosen a path far larger than himself. Someone who carried the future with trembling but determined hands.
When Midoriya used the fallen robot to launch himself, Ikaris felt a rare ripple of surprise.
Humans were not meant to adapt this quickly.And yet—they did.
Midoriya finished first.
The stadium erupted.Voices became a tidal wave.Emotion itself became almost physical.
Ikaris watched silently.
Learning.Listening.Calculating.
These young humans—different from any before—burned brighter than stars.
He felt a small ache in his chest. Nostalgia? Regret? Wonder? Old emotions, long buried, stirred like dust in sunlight.
He shifted his gaze upward.
Far beyond the clouds, a flicker of cosmic energy whispered through the atmosphere. A signature he recognised. Ancient. Familiar. Dangerous.
Calling.
But he did not move.
Not yet.
His mission—whatever form it took now—required understanding. Required connection. Required humility. He had failed when he walked above humanity like a guardian without seeing them as people.
To protect something, you must love it.To love something, you must know it.To know something, you must walk beside it.
He breathed deeply—an unnecessary human gesture, but one that felt grounding. The scent of food stalls drifted upward: sweet, smoky, warm. People laughed, shouted, argued, and embraced. Life pulsed in every corner of the stadium.
A human child beside him tugged at his mother's sleeve, pointing at the arena.
"Mom! Did you see that green-haired kid!? He flew! He actually flew!"
The mother chuckled. "No, he didn't fly. He launched himself. Big difference. But yes… that was incredible."
Ikaris watched them.
Humans celebrated each other's strength.They cheered for strangers.They found hope in children.They turned competition into unity.
He understood then.
Humanity's greatest power was not their quirks, or their inventions, or their heroes.
It was their togetherness.
Their ability to stand side by side—even when fighting their own battles.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment.
This, he thought, is why they survive. Why they endure. Why they fascinate even the gods.
The crowd shifted as preparations began for the next event.
The Cavalry Battle.
And somewhere deep in that sea of young warriors, futures were changing—shaped by rivalry, by fear, by dreams, by the unshakable belief that tomorrow could be better than today.
Ikaris remained still, the noise of the stadium swirling around him.
This time, he wasn't watching as a guardian.
He was watching as a student.An outsider learning what it meant to be human.A being trying to understand a species that defied logic through sheer will.
He didn't know what decisions awaited him.What battles shimmered on the horizon.What cosmic forces whispered his name from beyond the sky.
But he knew one thing with certainty:
Before choosing what came next—
He needed to understand this world.These children.This humanity.
And for the first time in a very, very long time…
Ikaris felt the faintest spark of hope.
The waiting room after the obstacle race buzzed with adrenaline. Sweat, nerves, victory, frustration — all of it swirled together like pressure in a boiler. Midoriya paced in frantic circles, muttering strategies at a speed that made even Iida nervous. His hands flailed wildly, each gesture a desperate punctuation to thoughts no one else could follow.
"Okay — okay — so if we get attacked from the left, we could rotate but then Todoroki—no, no, no, that won't work — and Hatsume's support gear has weight distribution issues — but maybe—"
"Deku… breathe," Uraraka said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
He froze, inhaled sharply, then nodded — though his foot still tapped like it was trying to escape the floor.
Tokoyami watched from the corner, cloak unmoving, his presence as calm and shadowed as a quiet night. Dark Shadow hovered at his side, murmuring in excitement.
"Your anxiety feeds the chaos of the room," Tokoyami finally said.
"Sorry! Sorry! I just—this next round… it's—"
"An opportunity," Tokoyami finished. "Nothing more. Nothing less."
The door slammed open.
In rolled Hatsume, pushing a cart overloaded with gadgets that sparked, clanked, hummed, and in one case, hissed ominously.
"BABIES!" she announced.
Half the room flinched.
"I've got babies for EVERY situation! Mobility babies, stability babies, offense babies, defense babies!!"
Midoriya shrieked internally. Tokoyami blinked once. Uraraka tried to smile politely. A light on one gadget blinked red twice — then blue — then red again.
"Uh… Hatsume? Is that supposed to be blinking?" Midoriya asked.
"Yes!"Pause."Probably!"
The room collectively decided to ignore that.
Across the hall, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Bakugo sat like a bomb waiting for someone to approach with a lit match. His shoulders trembled with suppressed fury; his palms crackled in tiny bursts. His breathing was sharp, controlled only by sheer will.
Kirishima hyped him up, grinning with unwavering faith.
"Bro! You crushed that race! Seriously, no one could've kept up with those explosions!"
"Shut up," Bakugo snapped — but there was none of his usual bite.
Kirishima saw it — the flicker of gratitude. He slapped Bakugo's shoulder.
"You're gonna dominate this next one."
Bakugo didn't deny it.He didn't need to.His fire spoke for him.
In a quieter corner, Todoroki gathered his team.
His composure was glacial — calm, unreadable, steady — but the seriousness in his expression made everyone around him tense. He studied Midoriya from across the room with an intensity that resembled a sniper lining up a shot.
"Are you sure about this strategy?" Sero asked.
"Yes," Todoroki replied simply.
"But if you're not using your—"
"I said yes."
Even Iida, usually composed, swallowed nervously.
Todoroki's decision was absolute:
He would defeat Midoriya without touching his left side.
His father's fire would not decide this battle.
The tension thickened.
The entire building vibrated with anticipation as U.A. students prepared for the next stage: the Cavalry Battle — a test of teamwork, adaptability, cunning, and courage. It was an event that stripped away the illusion of individual glory and forced students to confront something uncomfortable: They needed others to win.
Teams formed.
Some are out of strategy.Some out of trust.Some out of pure, simmering spite.
Midoriya's team came together slowly — Uraraka stepping forward first with determination sharp in her eyes. Tokoyami followed, steady as a mountain. Hatsume slid in next, having already attached half her gear to Midoriya before he could resist.
"My babies and I will carry you to victory!" she said with a wink.
"I— that's — okay — thank you—"
Bakugo's team radiated raw aggression. Pure momentum. Pure force. His teammates followed him like soldiers behind a warhead, trusting his chaotic brilliance to plow a way forward.
Todoroki's team stood with icy precision — a perfectly tuned mechanism designed for efficiency. Every step was calculated. Every move already rehearsed.
Class 1-B eyed everyone with predatory smiles.
This wasn't just a challenge — it was revenge for all the attention Class 1-A received.
The air vibrated with anticipation.
The whole stadium felt it.
Even the crowd.
Even the heroes in the stands.
Even the students desperately trying to pretend the cosmic incident from weeks ago was behind them.But deep down, fear lingered like a shadow.Unspoken.Unavoidable.
Midnight cracked her whip.
"Students! Prepare for round two—the CAVALRY BATTLE!"
The cheers nearly split the sky.
Midoriya tightened his gloves, heart pounding in his ears.Uraraka steadied her breathing, reminding herself that she'd come too far to freeze now.Tokoyami whispered to Dark Shadow, coaxing the creature into balance.Hatsume tinkered with wires with manic enthusiasm.
Across the arena, Bakugo's palms popped with sparks.Kirishima slammed his fists together, hyping himself into iron-hard confidence.Bakugo snarled — but it wasn't anger.
It was hunger.
Todoroki inhaled deeply, the air frosting around him. His team gathered close, unwavering.
Present Mic's voice erupted like a cannon.
"BEGINNNNN!"
Chaos exploded.
In an instant, the arena became a battlefield of motion and noise.
Students charged.Students collided.Students strategized and improvised with desperation so loud it nearly shook the sky.
Midoriya's team maneuvered defensively — circling, pivoting, ducking, weaving through attacks aimed squarely at them. The ten-million-point headband glowed metaphorically like a target painted across their foreheads.
Todoroki's team advanced with icy dominance — every movement smooth, controlled. No wasted force. No hesitation.
Bakugo tore through opponents like a missile — explosions propelling him in lethal arcs, his laughter sharp and wild.
Class 1-B launched coordinated ambushes — traps, feints, pincer formations. They were organized, ruthless, hungry.
Dust rose.Sweat dripped.Cries echoed through the arena.
Every second was a story.Every movement a gamble.Every clash a spark of something bigger — ambition, fear, hope, pride.
The crowd screamed in delight, their energy cascading over the battlefield like a living wave.
Up in the stands—
Someone watched.
A presence none of them noticed.
Invisible to their eyes, but not to their fate.
Hidden among cheering humans, an ancient being observed every movement.
Every struggle.Every moment of doubt.Every burst of courage.Every emotion is painted raw on young faces.
Their strategies.Their instincts.Their dreams burning too brightly to be extinguished.
He understood now.
Why humanity endured.Why they evolved without cosmic guidance.Why did they refused to break even under pressure from the universe itself.
The Cavalry Battle raged on.
Midoriya shouted commands, voice cracking with desperation yet fortified by determination.Uraraka pushed her quirk to its limits, sweat rolling down her temple.Tokoyami swung Dark Shadow with precision and restraint.Hatsume cackled with joy as her support gear did things no one expected.
Todoroki advanced, a cold storm in human form.Bakugo carved a path of raw dominance.Class 1-B preyed on the chaos with cunning smiles.
The stadium roared.The earth shook.The future of hero society unfolded in real time.
And somewhere in the sky — too far for human eyes to notice — a star flickered unnaturally.
Ikaris opened his eyes again.
The pull of fate trembled through him.
The world was changing.
And this time…
He would be part of it.