[Location: The National Complex for the Regulation and Containment of Dangerous Quirks — N.C.R.C.D.Q.]
That was how the government referred, in official documents, to the facility that housed patients whose mere existence required safety protocols, environmental shielding, and multidisciplinary teams trained to handle extreme risks. In theory, it was a medical center. In practice, it was a hub for control, surveillance, and evaluation of people whose quirks were considered potential threats to the population or the State.
The N.C.R.C.D.Q. had multiple blocks, arranged so that any incident could be isolated within seconds:
Block A — General Clinical Sector
Where patients with dangerous yet manageable quirks were monitored in reinforced traditional wards. Medical observations, care routines, and stabilizations were carried out there.
Block B — Analysis and Research Laboratories
Shielded rooms equipped with sensors, devices for extreme measurements, and exposure protocols. Here, the biological, energetic, or physical bases of the most unstable quirks were studied.
Block C — Archive and Administration
The bureaucratic heart. Physical files, databases, confidential records, cameras, security systems, and the director's office.
Block D — Special Containment
An entire wing designed for patients whose risk level could endanger the city and everyone around it. Rumor had it there was a section dedicated to mentally unstable patients, who were only released once fully treated. Everything was reinforced with carbon-steel layers, lead plates, and automatic sealing mechanisms. Despite all the security, one patient had managed to escape — subject 29-A, whose extreme mental instability could endanger anyone near her.
There was also a fifth block, one that didn't appear on standard internal maps:
Block E — High-Instability Radiological Unit: Project NUCLEUS
Built exclusively because of subject 47-B, Ryo Tanaka.
This block existed for a single purpose: to evaluate, measure, and contain the Nuclear Core quirk.All infrastructure was dedicated to him — radiation sensors in every corner, pressurized chambers, filtration ducts, triple lead lining, and entire laboratories designed around his energy emissions. Even the ventilation followed standards used in nuclear plants.
No other patient had access or medical records stored there.
It was a wing of the complex created because of a single 14-year-old boy.
Early that afternoon, two doctors walked side by side through the immaculate white corridor. Their footsteps echoed in sync with the cold rhythm of the automatic respirators connected to the rooms.
"Ah, patient no. 431…" the first murmured, flipping through a clipboard. "…she hasn't shown any improvement in months. The internal lesions are stabilized, but not exactly reversible. Honestly, we've been wasting too many resources on her over these years."
His colleague let out a low, lazy chuckle.
"Oh, come on. At least the bonus always arrives on time. Getting transferred to this wing was a blessing, believe me. Easy job. She barely reacts. She's just… a bit annoying to deal with. Especially when you know her past. I even find her disgusting to look at."
"A lost cause," repeated the first, indifferent. "It's long past time to put an end to—"
They immediately fell silent when they noticed the director's shadow approaching down the hall.
He walked between them without a word, and both doctors practically pressed themselves against the wall to make room. Director Arima Kyozan wore an impeccable suit, a stern expression, and a gaze that assessed every employee as if inspecting factory defects.
Arima walked with firm steps, a thick envelope in his hands. He crossed two corridors, scanned his ID through reinforced doors, and finally entered his office — a minimalist room, almost too cold for someone supposedly in charge of saving lives.
He sat down, adjusted his tie, opened his laptop, and started a video call.
The screen lit up, revealing the face of Kusabane Itsuo, director of the Energy Infrastructure Sector — a man who rarely smiled… except when discussing statistics or projects that could benefit him.
"Director Kyozan-san," Kusabane greeted, slightly bowing his head.
"Director Itsuo-dono," Arima replied. "I've received your requests. I assume you want this month's reports."
Arima opened the envelope and spread the documents across his desk.
"Let's see… as of last month, Ryo Tanaka's hallucinations have become more frequent. His mental state continues to deteriorate. Emotional spikes are unstable and correlated with energetic spikes. As for his physical condition…"
"Just the psychological part," Kusabane cut in without ceremony. "That's all we need to know."
Arima blinked slowly, clearly irritated by the interruption.
"Right. Well… taking that into account, our projections indicate that Ryo Tanaka's full internment may occur within this month. That would put an end to our monitoring."
On the other side of the call, Kusabane allowed himself a restrained, almost overly satisfied smile.
"So our wait is finally coming to an end. Excellent. We've been prepared for this since last year."
Arima hesitated for a moment before asking:
"Director… do you truly feel no fear? Not even a little? We're dealing with an unstable variable capable of destructive levels that… that border on apocalyptic. Ryo Tanaka is a walking biological weapon. If we lose control for even a second—"
"Then that second will be your responsibility, not mine," Kusabane replied immediately, his voice cutting. "Your specialists were chosen to prevent exactly that — to keep everything on the planned track."
Arima clenched his jaw tightly, his teeth almost audibly grinding.
"I… understand…" he finally said, in an icy tone. "I suppose I should even thank the government for finding a way to dispose of a monster like him."
Kusabane merely tilted his head, satisfied.
"You're worrying too much, Kyozan-san. Everything we're doing… is for the good of this country."
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The bar rested in its usual calm — low lights, the scent of old wood, and the faint purple glow of the mist that quietly seeped from Kurogiri's body as he dried glasses behind the counter. Every movement he made was precise, silent, almost ritualistic.
On the opposite side, slouched on a tall stool, Shigaraki Tomura leaned forward, his reddish eyes glued to the phone screen. His fingers scratched at the surface while his character ran frantically across an online game's map.
"No, no, NO—"
Shigaraki's character collapsed on the ground.
A group of players performed a victory dance on the digital corpse.
Shigaraki froze for a moment.
Then, slow and irritable, his fingers touched the phone entirely.
The device crumbled into dust, falling as ashes across the wooden counter.
"Those sons of bitches… I'm gonna kill all of them!" he growled, slamming his fist on the counter, breathing fast as if he'd taken a real blow. "PK my ass. I was just passing by!"
Kurogiri, without so much as glancing over, kept cleaning his glass.
"Please, Tomura… keep calm. I'd rather not go through another incident like last time. This bar doesn't rebuild itself."
Shigaraki huffed, tugging at his collar.
"Hah… yeah, yeah. I know. Just… those idiots get on my nerves."
He sank into the chair a bit, grumbling and restless.
The atmosphere stayed like that for a few seconds — only the sound of cloth on glass and Shigaraki's heavy breathing.
Until the TV mounted on the corner wall flickered on by itself.
The screen darkened, distorted… and then the image of All For One appeared, perfectly clear as if he were standing in the bar.
Kurogiri immediately stopped his work and bowed his head slightly.
"It's an honor to see you again."
Shigaraki straightened his posture and crossed his legs, trying to seem more composed — or at least less childish.
"Sensei…" he said, a bit more controlled.
The masked figure tilted his head slightly, his calm and gentle voice contrasting with the dark atmosphere around him.
"It pleases me to see you both. Tomura… how have you been feeling?"
Shigaraki scratched his neck, his fingers trembling faintly.
"Ah… so-so. The heroes are annoying, online games too… but nothing I can't handle."
All For One let out a soft chuckle.
"I'm glad your… dedication remains intact."
Kurogiri approached the counter, folding his hands.
"Master… you said you would call us once the plan was fully structured."
"And it is," All For One replied. "The attack on U.A. will take place in a few months. The ideal moment to test All Might's strength… and, of course, my dear Tomura's as well."
Shigaraki's lips twitched into an eager smile — anticipation shining in his sickly eyes.
"Finally. Let's watch the Symbol of Peace fall."
All For One continued:
"Kurogiri, you'll handle the logistics, as discussed. Strategic portals, transport, evacuation if necessary. And, of course, keeping our 'little army' coordinated."
"Understood," Kurogiri answered reverently.
Then All For One leaned back slightly.
"Ah, before I forget. This plan… wouldn't have taken shape without the assistance of a dear friend of mine. He was extremely generous — providing materials, funding, and certain components that will be essential for our… surprise for All Might."
Shigaraki gripped the counter, curious.
"Friend? What kind of friend do you even have, sensei?"
"A man of great influence," All For One replied, his voice far too gentle to be honest. "Someone who also wishes to see structural changes in this world. He has his own interests, of course… but for now, our goals align."
Tomura frowned, ever suspicious.
"So… he wants to see All Might fall too?"
"Not just All Might," the masked villain said with unsettling serenity. "He wants to see the world… change. And for that, my dears, the initial chaos must begin somewhere."
Kurogiri inclined his head.
"And it will begin at U.A."
All For One smiled — or at least gave the impression of doing so behind the respirator-like mask.
"Exactly."
The TV began to darken as All For One finished:
"Prepare yourselves. The Age of the Symbol of Peace is coming to an end."
The screen shut off.
Shigaraki stayed still for a few seconds… then scratched the counter, excited.
"Finally… something fun."
And Kurogiri returned to drying his glass, as if it were just another ordinary night.
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Ryo's apartment was silent, lit only by the faint light slipping through the window. The space was small, organized just enough to show he didn't spend much time there. In the center, a simple tatami mat served as a table, and he sat in front of it, legs crossed, back straight.
His cold, green-tinged eyes shifted between the steaming cup of green tea and the white envelope marked with U.A.'s seal.
He took a deep breath.
"…If I don't get in, at least I tried something new in life," he muttered, more to fill the silence than out of conviction.
He reached out and picked up the envelope. He felt the thick texture of the paper between his fingers before tearing it open slowly. A small stack of papers slid out, accompanied by a metallic disc, the size of a coin, with the U.A. symbol engraved on top.
He placed the device on the tatami.
The next instant, the object vibrated and projected a hologram above itself — the tiny, impeccably dressed figure of Nezu, with his polite smile and black eyes that sparkled just a bit too much.
"Hello!" the hologram began, cheerful. "First of all, congratulations, young Takeda! You have passed the U.A. Entrance Exam!"
Ryo blinked once, tired just from hearing all that energy.
"Hm."
Nezu continued with almost theatrical posture:
"Entering U.A. is synonymous with honor, responsibility, and of course, constant effort! Being a hero requires far more than strength… it demands character, ethics, and resolve! But I believe you already know that."
He definitely didn't know that.
And he didn't care to.
"Now, let's move on to the score table!" the little principal announced as the hologram shifted to show the exam results.
EXAM RESULTS
1. Rito Takeda — Villain: 132 / Rescue: 138 — Total: 270
2. Dash Parr — Villain: 268 / Rescue: 0 — Total: 268
3. Katsuki Bakugo — Villain: 77 / Rescue: 0 — Total: 77
4. Eijiro Kirishima — Villain: 39 / Rescue: 35 — Total: 74
5. Ochaco Uraraka — Villain: 31 / Rescue: 27 — Total: 58
...
Ryo tilted his head slightly.
"I'm… top one?" he murmured, genuinely surprised.
Nezu smiled even wider.
"Oh yes! And I imagine you're curious about the Rescue Points. They're awarded by the teachers who evaluated the test, taking into account altruistic acts, ethical decision-making, and courage demonstrated under pressure!"
"Courage? I only acted because a literal hallucination told me to. And also… I didn't want to get crushed by that thing." Ryo thought, grimacing as he remembered the incident.
"And that is precisely what makes the exam so beautiful!" Nezu's hologram continued. "Seeing how you react in critical situations. Ah, and… normally, you would have earned even more points —" he leaned in as if whispering "— but your confrontation with the Zero Target required some… reductions to your final evaluation."
Ryo snorted.
"Already expected that."
"But don't worry! There were no charges for material damage. The testing area is entirely disposable. Destroying it is part of the educational process!" Nezu said with odd pride.
Nezu then straightened his holographic tie and adopted a lower, more serious tone, though still wearing that unsettling smile.
He leaned forward as if staring directly into Ryo's eyes.
"And I'm very happy that you chose to join U.A.… Ryo Tanaka."
Ryo rubbed his face.
"And I'm not. Not even a little…"
"I expect great things from you! And I would like to—"
Ryo pressed the device with his finger.
The hologram vanished instantly.
"…Was getting annoying," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
He pulled the remaining sheets. The first was the official confirmation of his acceptance — he skimmed it briefly and pushed it aside. The next pages explained the hero costume subsidy, initial design guidelines, contacts with textile departments and specialized technologists.
When he read that sending his costume was optional for now, he simply dropped everything on the table and let himself fall backward onto the tatami, arms spread out, staring at the cracked ceiling of his apartment.
He stayed there in silence for a few seconds.
"I'm going to become a hero…" he murmured into the void. "…Shit."
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The Parrs' new house still carried that faint scent of a freshly inhabited home — polished wood, new tatami mats, and a discreet trace of incense the real estate agency had left behind as a "welcome." The dining room was spacious, lit by a hanging Japanese-style lamp that cast a warm glow as the family gathered around the low table.
Helen adjusted a dish while Bob, sitting with his legs awkwardly folded since he wasn't used to Japanese-style seating, smiled proudly. Moving to Japan was still far from comfortable… but tonight, the air was filled with pure joy.
"What a day…" Helen murmured with a soft smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Two new students entering prestigious institutions on the same day… I couldn't be prouder."
Dash was already vibrating, practically trembling in his seat like a puppy ready to sprint.
And then he sprinted — literally. In a blur, he zipped around the table four times, making Bob grab his plate so it wouldn't topple.
"I DID IT, MOM! DAD! I got into U.A.!" he shouted, returning to his seat instantly, breathing fast but grinning from ear to ear. "And look… I almost got first place, you know! If I hadn't slipped up in the middle…" He raised his hands, excited. "I would've outpaced that guy 'Rito' easy!"
Helen let out a light laugh.
"Sweetheart, you got second place in the best hero school in Japan. Not bad for an entrance exam."
Bob tilted his head, beaming.
"You were incredible. Doesn't matter the ranking — what matters is…" he pointed at the boy's chest. "You earned it. You deserve to celebrate."
Violet, sitting beside him, fiddled with her hair tied in a makeshift ponytail, trying to hide it behind her ears — an old habit that never disappeared. But her smile was genuine.
"Good for you. Builds a little ethics," she teased, raising an eyebrow. "Anyway, my exam was all written and boring. I might've had… uh… a tiny bit more trouble than you."
"Oh, that just proves my side is way cooler! I got to smash robots the size of cars!"
"Well, I had to solve problems about ethics, hero legislation, rescue psychology, and tactical analysis," she retorted, crossing her arms in fake annoyance before a smile tugged at her lips. "But unlike you… I already have a provisional hero license."
Dash puffed his cheeks.
"That's because you already went through hero courses before!"
"Yes, and do you know what that's called? Su-pe-ri-o-ri-ty." Violet pronounced it syllable by syllable, flashing a mischievous grin.
"No, it's not!"
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's not!"
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's not!!"
"Yes, it is!"
Bob raised his big hands, calling for a ceasefire.
"Okay, okay, you two… no arguing during the Parr family's first official dinner in Japan, please."
The siblings both grumbled a synchronized "we get it…" before settling back into place.
Jack-Jack, seated in his chair (decorated with an All Might sticker he'd placed himself), kicked his feet against the floor in pure excitement.
"Dash, Dash! You're gonna see All Might up close, right? Like… every day?" he asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Of course!" Dash replied, puffing out his chest with an air of superiority. "Compared to someone else beside me… I'll have classes with the Symbol of Peace!"
Jack-Jack broke into a huge smile.
"He's SO cool! He does punches that make everything shake! I wish I had a quirk like that." he said, swinging his little arms dramatically, mimicking a giant punch.
Bob laughed, ruffling the boy's hair — something Jack-Jack tolerated for two seconds before pushing the hand away with a tiny spark of electricity flickering at the ends of his hair.
"Dad, don't mess up my hair… I'm big now."
Violet snapped a photo at that exact moment.
"Yeah, real big… with All Might stickers all over your forehead if we let you," she teased.
Jack-Jack crossed his arms and turned away.
"That's because he's cool."
After another round of affectionate teasing and compliments from Bob and Helen, the doorbell rang. Bob stood carefully, trying not to bump his knee on the table, and returned holding a large insulated bag.
"Traditional Japanese food, as promised!" he announced triumphantly.
Helen opened the bag and smiled.
"Ramen… takoyaki… karaage… tempura…" she listed as she set everything on the table. "I think you guys ordered half the menu."
"It's for celebrating!" Dash said, grabbing his chopsticks with excitement. "And also because I don't know how to speak Japanese… so we just pointed at everything that looked good."
Violet snorted a soft laugh.
"And miraculously, it worked."
The family gathered together, finally beginning to eat. The bold flavors, the hot steam, the cozy energy of their new little Japanese home…