MHA: Echoes of the Breach

AN: have had this little bit planned since before I started writing, and I must say I'm happy with how it turned out.

Enjoy and Review.

Shinji awoke with a start, his body jolting upright as the neural uplink pulsed at the base of his skull. The familiar sense of unease gripped him, an instinctual response drilled into him after countless battles. As always, the fog of sleep cleared in an instant, his senses snapping to full alertness. His surroundings were dim, bathed in the cold, artificial glow of Striker Eureka's cockpit. The screens flickered in and out, the systems running idle, waiting for his command. Outside, beyond the reinforced canopy, the world was swallowed in an endless sea of gray. No sky, no stars, just the same choking, stagnant expanse of ashen clouds that never parted.

He exhaled slowly, his breath misting slightly in the cool air. No alarms. No immediate threats. That was rare. So rare. Waking up in the Breach without something trying to kill him felt wrong like he was missing something. But he'd take it. He didn't have the energy to question it.

The cockpit hummed softly around him, the neural link still feeding into his mind, a constant, low thrum that had become second nature. The restraints of the drift held him in place, cables running along his arms and spine, tethering his body to the Jaeger's massive frame. Striker Eureka stood motionless in the ruins of a forgotten battlefield, its steel body silent, waiting. The ground beneath it, if this place could even be called a ground, was cracked and broken, shifting as if the world itself were breathing. Jagged formations of obsidian-like rock jutted out in every direction, stretching into a void of shadows and shifting, unnatural light.

A deep, distant growl rolled through the air, followed by the heavy tremors of something massive moving in the distance. Shinji felt it before he fully heard it, the way the vibrations traveled up through Striker Eureka's frame, rattling through the cockpit. Kaiju. Multiple. Stalking, prowling just beyond the veil of fog, their enormous silhouettes barely visible through the fractured atmosphere. Even at a distance, their presence was suffocating, their sheer scale warping the very air around them.

He clenched his fists, fingers digging into his palms. His body ached, exhaustion weighing heavy on him, but there was no time for rest. There never was. The Breach didn't care if he was tired. It didn't care if his muscles burned or if his mind was fraying at the edges. It didn't care that he was alone.

A low beep echoed through the cockpit as Striker Eureka's sensors pinged, picking up a massive heat signature and closing in fast. Shinji's jaw tightened.

Another day, another fight for survival in this hellish place.

His hands clenched, and as the neural uplink flared to life, the Jaeger moved.

---

Yu entered U.A.'s meeting room with a nervous shuffle, her usual confidence dampened by the sheer weight of the presence around her. Every single teacher was there, along with Recovery Girl and a humanoid dog in a police uniform, Chief Tsuragamae, if she remembered correctly. But the one who drew her attention the most was Nezu, U.A.'s principal, seated at the head of the table with his usual composed yet unsettlingly sharp gaze.

The room was silent, save for the faint shuffling of papers and the occasional tap of a pen against the polished wooden table. Nezu, ever the enigmatic strategist, sipped at his tea with a small, knowing smile, the kind that made it impossible to tell whether he was pleased, indifferent, or five steps ahead of everyone else.

Despite her status as a pro hero, Yu couldn't shake the slight intimidation creeping up her spine. She would never admit it out loud, but being in a room surrounded by her seniors, some of the best heroes in the country, made her feel like a student again. Aizawa, Midnight, Present Mic, and the others sat in quiet contemplation, their expressions varying from concern to analytical coldness.

Still, whatever nervousness she felt was buried beneath something stronger: her worry for her little brother. That alone kept her standing tall. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before stepping forward.

Nezu finally set down his teacup with a soft clink, folding his paws together as he regarded her with a polite, unreadable expression.

"Ah, Takeyama," he greeted in his usual chipper tone, though his eyes gleamed with their usual calculating sharpness. "Please, take a seat. We were just about to begin."

The atmosphere in the room remained heavy, a silent acknowledgment that whatever was about to be discussed was far from routine.

Yu swallowed the lump in her throat and took a seat as instructed, her eyes flicking between the gathered heroes before settling on Nezu. The small principal folded his paws neatly in front of him, his ever-present smile unwavering, but there was a weight behind it, a seriousness that immediately put her on edge.

"This meeting," Nezu began, his voice light yet commanding, "is about Shinji."

Yu's fingers curled into the fabric of her pants. Of course, it was. That much she expected. But the fact that everyone was here, the gravity in Nezu's tone, told her that this wasn't just a meeting about her brother's progress or well-being. This was something bigger.

"What I am about to share with you," Nezu continued, his eyes scanning the room, "is information that, until now, has been known only to myself and Aizawa."

Aizawa, seated with his arms crossed, said nothing, but Yu didn't miss the way his jaw tightened slightly as if bracing himself for what was to come. The room, already quiet, seemed to grow even more so, the weight of Nezu's words pressing down on everyone present.

Yu forced herself to sit still, though her heart pounded against her ribs. What could be so secretive that even U.A.'s staff had been left in the dark? And why did Nezu and Aizawa know it but not her?

She was Shinji's sister. What had Nezu been keeping from her? More importantly, what had Shinji been keeping from her?

Nezu leaned forward slightly, his beady eyes sharp and unwavering as they met Yu's. His ever-present smile remained, but there was a distinct weight in his tone now, a quiet intensity that made the room feel even smaller.

"As you are all aware," he began, his voice light yet measured, "Young Shinji spent a rather considerable amount of time away and, upon his return, exhibited… notable aftereffects. Some of these are expected, natural consequences of such an ordeal."

Nezu tilted his head, his ears twitching slightly. "However," he continued, "I strongly suspect that one particular development, the growth, which ultimately led to his rather aggressive return, Is still present."

He clasped his paws together atop the table, his gaze sweeping across the gathered heroes.

"I believe it is time we discuss exactly what that means."

A brief silence followed Nezu's words, the weight of his statement settling over the room. Then, as expected, the questions came.

All Might, standing near the back with his arms crossed, frowned deeply. "Hold on a moment," he interjected, concern lacing his voice. "If this… growth is still present, does that mean it could trigger another incident?"

Cementoss leaned forward, his expression contemplative. "Was it something external or internal? If it's still there, is it growing? Mutating?"

Midnight tapped her nails against the table, brows furrowed. "And why are we only hearing about this now?" she asked, her tone measured but pointed.

Across the table, Present Mic glanced between Nezu and Aizawa, his usual energy dampened. "And if it's still there," he said slowly, "what does that mean for Shinji? For us?"

Yu remained silent, her hands clenched into fists on her lap. She was Shinji's sister. What had he been keeping from her? What had Nezu and Aizawa been keeping from her?

Nezu's expression remained unreadable, his small paws still neatly clasped atop the table. "Excellent questions," he said, his tone light but precise. "Let's answer them, shall we?"

Nezu leaned forward slightly, reaching for a small remote on the table. With a soft click, he pressed a button, and behind him, a large screen descended from the ceiling, the quiet whir of machinery cutting through the murmurs in the room. All eyes turned toward it, conversations dying as anticipation thickened the air.

The screen flickered to life, revealing paused security footage. The timestamp in the corner displayed a date from just a week before, the day school had started. The location was unmistakable: one of UA's indoor training grounds. The stark, sterile environment of the facility was bathed in artificial light, the image frozen on a figure standing in the center.

Shinji.

Yu felt her breath hitch, her grip tightening around her arms as she forced herself to remain still. The image on the screen sent a cold wave through her, lodging itself deep in her chest. Her brother stood in the center of the frame. Shinji's stance was rigid, his posture unnaturally tense. Even in the still frame, something was wrong. A shadow clung to him, a weight that distorted the very air around him, sinking into his form like an invisible shroud. It made her stomach twist. What had happened to him?

Across the room, Nezu's voice, ever calm, ever composed, cut through the silence.

"What you are about to see," he began, his tone carrying an unusual gravity, "is something that, until now, only Aizawa and myself have borne witness to."

His gaze swept across the gathered teachers, his dark eyes assessing their reactions before lingering, for just a moment, on Yu.

"I must warn you," Nezu continued, his voice betraying the faintest hint of something uncharacteristic. Concern? Hesitation? "What you are about to see may be… unsettling."

He did not wait for a response. Instead, without another word, he pressed play.

They watched, a heavy silence settling over the room as the image on the screen shifted. Shinji stood motionless, the stiff stance of his body betraying an inner struggle. His eyes, those dull, hollow eyes, spoke volumes, but none of it was in a language they could understand. There was exhaustion there, but it wasn't the kind of tiredness that could be cured with sleep. It ran deeper, seeping into the very marrow of his bones.

Before anyone could process the weight of what they were seeing, the silence was broken by the words, "You're not real."

The words were sharp, edged with something raw and dangerous.

But they were not directed at anyone in the room.

The teachers shifted, unease rippling through them as they glanced at each other, trying to piece together the puzzle. The room fell into a strange, eerie quiet. Shinji's lips barely moved as the words escaped his mouth, his voice devoid of any emotion. Yet it was clear he was speaking to someone or something, none of them could see. His gaze was fixed, and that only deepened the unsettling feeling in their chests. There was nothing in front of him, no figure or presence in the frame to justify his words. But the intensity of his stare… it was as though he was locked in a battle with something invisible. Something that existed only in his mind.

Yu's breath caught in her throat, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk as if it might steady her against the turmoil swirling in her chest. Her mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of her brother's fractured state. What was happening to him? She had heard his stories and seen the aftermath of his time in the Breach. But was that all? Had it truly been just the Breach that had changed him? No… there was something else. Something more.

That thing.

The specter, the ghost, the apparition, she couldn't even remember what Shinji had called it. But it was clear that whatever it was, it still haunted him. Was it still following him? The uncertainty gnawed at her insides. What was it doing to him?

The screen flickered again as Shinji's form shifted, the tension in his posture palpable, his eyes flickering with something dangerous. His voice came next, sharp and broken, ricocheting against the reinforced walls of the room. It was filled with raw emotion, frustration, and a sense of deep, seething anger.

"Because this isn't the Breach!" Shinji snapped, his voice an explosive crack that seemed to reverberate through the very air around them. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his entire body taut with barely contained energy. It was as though his frustration had manifested itself physically.

"This isn't life or death!" he continued, his words harsh, trembling with the weight of unspoken thoughts. "And he's just a kid! A stupid kid who doesn't know any better!"

The teachers watching the recording felt the weight of his words settle over them, a thick tension hanging in the air. His outburst, so raw and unrestrained, carried with it an undeniable sense of something, a desperate plea for something more, a demand for a world that made sense.

The teachers exchanged uneasy glances, their faces a mix of concern and disbelief. Aizawa and Nezu were the only ones who gave no outward reaction like they had already known it was coming.

The screen flickered, casting a cold, artificial glow over the silent room as the teachers continued to watch, their attention locked onto the recording. Shinji stood in the center of the frame, rigid, but something about him had shifted. His head turned suddenly, sharply, as if tracking something unseen that was circling him. His movements were slow, methodical, unnervingly precise.

The room in the recording was utterly silent.

It lingered that way for too long.

He was listening.

Not to them obviously. Not to anyone they could see. But to something.

The air in the recording seemed thick with an invisible presence, pressing in around him like a weight only he could feel. The way his shoulders tensed, the way his fingers twitched, it was like he was preparing for something, anticipating a voice only he could hear.

Then, his form shifted.

Metal and synthetic plating rippled over his skin, spreading like liquid steel before hardening into solid armor. The plates interlocked, layering seamlessly until his entire frame was encased in reinforced steel-like armor. His height surged, his frame expanding into something massive and unyielding. In mere moments, Shinji had transformed into the eight-foot colossus that was Cherno Alpha.

Then, impact.

The training room shook.

A single, deafening stomp sent a shockwave tearing through the air. The ground beneath him cracked and fractured, jagged lines splitting through the concrete. Dust and debris exploded outward, the sheer force of the impact making the recording tremble for a split second.

The teachers barely had time to process before his voice tore through the speakers.

"Shut up!"

It wasn't just anger.

It was raw. It was furious.

It was the kind of rage that came from something deep, something festering, something that had been there for too long.

The sound reverberated like a thunderclap, shaking the walls of the meeting room even though it was just an echo of the past. His voice was more than just shouting; it was a roar, a demand, a plea.

The teachers watching did not move.

They barely breathed.

Because none of them could shake the feeling that, in that moment, Shinji wasn't alone.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Shinji stood motionless, shoulders squared, breath slow but measured. The glow of the overhead lights cast harsh shadows across the reinforced plating of his Jaeger, Cherno Alpha. His posture remained rigid and unreadable, his face hidden behind the thick, unyielding armor.

But something was wrong.

Though they couldn't see his eyes, the tension in his body spoke volumes. The way his fingers twitched, the way his breathing hitched ever so slightly, the way the air around him felt too still.

He was listening again.

To what, they didn't know.

The silence stretched, unnatural and heavy, pressing down on the room like a held breath. There was nothing, no sound, no movement, but the weight of something unseen loomed over the scene, coiled, waiting.

"No."

His voice came low and sharp, slicing through the thick air like a blade. A single word, steady, deliberate.

Energy flickered along his form, a pulse of raw power that crackled at his fingertips, spreading outward in thin, jagged arcs. His quirk responded instinctively, reacting to the storm brewing inside him.

His stance didn't shift. His head didn't turn.

But something in the way he stood, in the sheer force behind his presence, made it clear he wasn't just speaking to empty air.

"I'm not afraid of you."

The words rang out, heavy and unyielding.

And yet, watching him stand there, surrounded by invisible ghosts, not a single teacher in the room believed it.

The teachers barely had time to process before Shinji moved.

"Shut up!"

His voice came as a sharp, guttural snarl, reverberating through the speakers with a force that made the recording feel too real. It wasn't just anger in his tone. It was frustration, something raw and fraying at the edges. His entire body tensed, a brief, almost imperceptible shake running through his frame before he pivoted with terrifying speed.

His left arm, a reinforced slab of Cherno Alpha's armor, swung. The sheer weight of the strike was enough to bend the air, a devastating arc that promised obliteration to anything caught in its path. The teachers could almost feel the force behind it, could almost hear the way the metal screamed through the air like a lightning strike coming down in judgment.

But there was nothing.

No impact. No collision.

Nothing but the sound of his own breathing, harsh and controlled, the reverberations of his own attack settling into the silence like an unanswered challenge.

Yet his movements betrayed him. He reacted like he had missed.

Like something had dodged him.

The tension in the room grew heavier, suffocating, as the teachers took in the way he stood. His armor-clad shoulders, squared and unyielding. His stance was wide and braced as if he expected retaliation at any second. There was no hesitation in his actions, he was fighting something.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the recording's ambient noise, the low hum of the training room's energy systems, and the distant creak of fractured flooring under his weight. Then,

Shinji's foot came down.

Hard.

The impact sent a violent shockwave rippling outward, the already fractured concrete giving way. The jagged lines beneath him splintered further, creeping outward like veins, like cracks in glass under unbearable pressure. A burst of dust and debris kicked into the air, shrouding him momentarily in a haze of destruction. The sheer force of it sent a pulse through the room, like the very foundation of the training hall was protesting under the weight of his fury.

"I'm not you!"

The words came like a growl of thunder, vibrating through the armor that encased him, twisting the air with the weight of his conviction.

"I'm not just a weapon! I'm more than that!"

And yet, even as the declaration left his lips, it didn't feel final.

It felt like a challenge. A refusal. A desperate attempt to convince himself.

His stance didn't ease, his fingers still curled into tight fists at his sides. His breathing, though controlled, was ragged beneath the metallic timbre of his words. He was waiting for an answer, for a counterattack, for a voice only he could hear to say something back.

And yet, the room remained silent.

But Shinji didn't relax.

Not even for a second.

They Watched as Shinji slammed his fist into the nearest wall, the reinforced metal visibly denting beneath the sheer force of his blow. The speakers crackled slightly from the impact, the deep, metallic thud reverberating through the recorded footage. His voice followed a moment later, raw, unrestrained.

"You don't know anything!" he roared, his tone carrying an edge of something deeper than rage, something frayed, something desperate. "They won't discard me! They can't. I won't let them!"

The recording captured every shift in his stance, every flicker of movement as his massive frame tensed. And then, without hesitation, he lunged. His right fist swung forward with devastating force,

And collided.

It wasn't like before.

Unlike his previous attacks, which seemed to pass through empty space, this time, there was contact. His strike hit something, his entire form recoiling slightly from the force of the impact.

A violent tremor shook the footage, the camera feed blurring for a split second as the entire training hall seemed to react to the sheer power behind his blow. The deep boom of impact echoed through the speakers, followed immediately by the sight of something unnerving.

On-screen, the concrete floor split.

Jagged gouges tore across the ground, deep and raw, as though something had been thrown backward, its unseen claws scraping against the surface in a desperate attempt to slow its momentum. The once-smooth flooring was left scarred and fractured in ways that couldn't be easily explained.

The teachers watching the footage exchanged uneasy glances.

Because while Shinji had clearly hit something, the recording showed nothing there.

Just the unmistakable, undeniable damage left behind.

Nezu pressed a button, and the recording froze.

The distorted remnants of movement remained on-screen, the deep, jagged gouges marring the training hall floor, the dented metal wall, the faint blur of Shinji's still-tensed frame, frozen mid-motion. The silence that followed was heavy, a stark contrast to the chaos they had just witnessed.

Aizawa exhaled slowly, his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the frozen image as if looking away would break some unspoken rule. His expression remained unreadable, but the way his fingers pressed into the fabric of his sleeve betrayed his thoughts.

Present Mic, usually loud and full of energy, was grimly quiet, his hands clasped together as he stared at the gouges on the floor. Midnight shifted in her seat, arms folded, her sharp gaze flicking between the screen and Nezu, searching for an explanation, though none seemed to come.

Yu, however, was frozen.

Her fingers dug into the edge of the desk, knuckles white as she stared at the image of her brother. Her little brother.

The one who stood in that recording, his stance rigid, his words filled with barely contained desperation.

"They won't discard me. They can't. I won't let them."

The words would not stop repeating in her mind, echoing like a cruel refrain. She could hear the way his voice had cracked, the way frustration and pain had bled into every syllable.

He thought they would discard him.

Like he was just some tool. Something that could be used and thrown away.

Yu clenched her jaw.

She had seen Shinji endure more than anyone should. She had seen him survive, push forward, and fight even when everything was against him. And yet, this wasn't just another battle.

This was something deeper.

A wound that had festered, one that he had never let anyone see.

Her chest tightened painfully.

How long had he felt like this? How long had he carried that fear? That certainty that the moment he stopped being useful, the moment he failed, they would simply cast him aside?

"...This isn't right."

Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the silence.

A few of the teachers turned toward her, but Yu didn't look at them. Her eyes remained locked on the screen, on the still image of her brother, standing alone, surrounded by destruction.

"This isn't just a training session gone wrong." She swallowed, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. "This is–this is him trying to prove something. To himself, to someone else, I don't even know. But he, " her fingers curled tighter into the desk, "He thinks he has to fight for his place. He thinks that if he isn't strong enough, if he isn't useful enough, then he's just disposable."

The words burned.

Because this was Shinji.

Her brother.

And he had been suffering alone.

A tense silence followed.

Aizawa finally exhaled, rubbing his temples. "I noticed signs of it before, but…" he trailed off, glancing at the screen. "Not like this."

Midnight frowned, arms tightening across her chest. "He's too young to be thinking like that."

"Not if he's been conditioned to believe it." Cementoss's voice was quiet but heavy. "And considering everything he's been through, I don't think it's surprising that he feels that way."

Nezu steepled his paws together, watching them carefully. "This is why I wanted you all to see this." His voice remained calm, yet there was an unmistakable weight to it. "Shinji is an exceptional student. But what you've just seen is more than combat training. It's more than frustration."

He tapped the frozen screen with a single claw.

"This is someone who expects abandonment. Who believes that if he fails, if he falls short of expectation, he will be left behind." His eyes flicked toward Yu, studying her. "And that is not something that should be ignored."

Yu's nails bit into her palms.

Ignored?

She had spent so long assuming that, even if she wasn't there, even if she was busy, even if she couldn't be by his side as much as she wanted to, he would be okay. That even with everything that had happened, even with all the weight on his shoulders, he would be okay.

But this wasn't okay.

Her brother wasn't okay.

And she had missed it.

Midnight was the first to break the silence.

"Not to take away from everything we just saw," she said, her voice firm yet tinged with unease, "but… are we just going to gloss over the scratches?"

Her gaze flicked back to the frozen image on the screen, eyes narrowing at the deep gouges in the concrete floor. "Because unless Shinji suddenly developed some new ability that lets him carve through solid reinforced flooring like a knife through butter, then we have another problem."

Aizawa's frown deepened. "We don't gloss over anything," he said, his tone unreadable. "And no, Shinji doesn't have any ability like that. His Quirk is power-based, not, " he gestured at the screen, "this."

"I was hoping someone would bring that up," Nezu admitted, tapping his fingers against the table. "And no, you're not imagining things."

Yu's stomach twisted.

She had been so focused on Shinji's words, on the weight behind them, that she had almost overlooked the most unsettling part of it all.

They had seen Shinji attack.

They had seen him react, dodge, strike back against something they couldn't see.

And the damage? The deep, jagged claw marks that stretched across the floor?

They were real.

Yu felt her throat go dry.

"So then…" Cementoss spoke next, his voice slow and deliberate, "If we assume that Shinji was, in fact, fighting something that wasn't just in his head…" He trailed off, letting the implication sink in.

"That means something else was there," Midnight finished, her voice quieter now.

The realization settled over the room like a thick fog.

No one wanted to say it.

No one wanted to acknowledge it.

Because if Shinji had truly been alone in that training hall, if nothing had been in there with him, then how had those marks appeared?

Yu's hands trembled slightly as she forced herself to think.

Shinji had seen something.

Fought something.

He had spoken to it, argued with it, lashed out at it like it was a living, breathing thing. And yet, on the recording, there was nothing there.

And yet, the scars it left behind?

They were very, very real.

"What the hell is going on?" Present Mic muttered, raking a hand through his hair. His usual bravado was gone, replaced with something heavier. "What did we just watch?"

No one had an answer.

And that was the worst part.

"Back during Shinji's… extended stay in the hospital," Nezu began, his tone measured yet carrying an undeniable weight, "he confided in Aizawa and me," he gestured toward Yu with an open paw, acknowledging her as well, "and his sister, that he was seeing something, a specter, if you will."

A brief pause followed as Nezu folded his small hands together atop the table, his expression unreadable. "At the time, I didn't think much of it," he admitted, his gaze sweeping across the assembled faculty. "Hallucinations, particularly in the form of visual or auditory disturbances, are a well-documented symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder. It was entirely plausible that what he described was a manifestation of his past experiences, his mind trying to process what he had endured."

His words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding.

"But," he continued, his voice just a fraction softer, "what we just watched goes beyond what I would consider a typical hallucination." He gestured toward the frozen image of the recording, to the deep, jagged marks in the concrete. "A delusion does not leave behind physical evidence. A hallucination does not scar the environment."

Yu felt her stomach twist.

She had been there when Shinji first mentioned it, the thing he called a specter. At the time, she had wanted so desperately to believe it was just his trauma talking. That, given time, he would heal. That the nightmare he had lived through wouldn't keep haunting him like this.

But seeing this? Seeing Shinji fight something that shouldn't exist, watching him react as if it were truly there, and then seeing the marks it left behind?

It shattered the fragile hope she had been clinging to.

A deep sigh pulled her from her spiraling thoughts.

"It's possible…" Recovery Girl spoke up at last, her voice slow and careful, "that his mind has become so conditioned to believing in its presence that his body is reacting accordingly. It wouldn't be the first time someone with PTSD has exhibited involuntary physical responses to perceived threats."

"That still doesn't explain this." Midnight tapped the screen, her expression grim. "Even if his body reacts to the hallucination, that doesn't account for the damage to the room."

"It doesn't." Nezu agreed, eyes dark and unreadable. "Which is why this presents a serious problem."

He let his words settle before continuing. "If Shinji's experiences have gone beyond the psychological and into something more… tangible, we need to consider the implications."

Yu clenched her hands into fists.

Implications.

That word felt too clinical, too detached for what was happening.

Because what she saw in that video wasn't just a quirk malfunction.

It was fear.

It was pain.

It was her little brother, standing alone in a fight that no one else could even see.

Again

Aizawa exhaled sharply, arms crossed, his tired gaze locked onto the frozen recording. He hadn't spoken yet, but the weight of his silence was enough. The flickering screen, the deep gouges in the floor, none of it made sense. And yet, the evidence was undeniable.

"This isn't just PTSD," he finally muttered, his tone low and firm. "Hallucinations don't do that." He gestured toward the gouges. "Even if his quirk was involved, that doesn't explain what he was reacting to."

"Which is the question here," Cementoss said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "Was he fighting something real? Or was this just… his mind creating an opponent?"

Yu shifted uncomfortably. She had barely spoken, her arms folded tightly as she watched the discussion unfold. These teachers… she had met them before, in passing, but she didn't know them. And they certainly didn't know Shinji, not like she did.

"You're not seriously saying he was fighting a ghost," Present Mic muttered, his usual energy subdued. "I mean, we've seen quirks do some wild stuff, but this, this is different."

"Different doesn't mean impossible," Midnight cut in, tapping the screen where the deep claw marks ran through the concrete. "We all saw that. If his opponent wasn't real, then what did this?"

No one had an answer.

A long silence followed, tense and heavy.

"This could be a quirk effect we don't understand," Vlad King offered, but there was hesitation in his voice. "It's not like we have a full analysis of his abilities. Maybe it's some kind of subconscious manifestation?"

"Then why does he look terrified?" Midnight shot back. "Why does he react like he's being hunted?"

Yu's hands clenched at her sides.

She knew Shinji. She knew the way he moved, the way he carried himself. And that… that hadn't been a spar. That had been desperation.

She didn't know these people. She had no idea if they could even help him. But watching them debate, seeing them analyze him like a puzzle to be solved, made her stomach twist.

"If this is something only he can see," she found herself saying, her voice quieter than she intended, "then what happens when it gets worse?"

The room fell silent again.

Aizawa exhaled sharply. "We find out exactly what's going on," he said. "Before it's too late."

Nezu folded his paws neatly on the table, his expression unreadable as he regarded the frozen screen. His voice remained calm and measured, but there was a weight behind his words that commanded attention.

"This brings me to a hypothesis I've been considering regarding this so-called 'ghost,'" he began, his sharp eyes flickering toward the others. "I believe this entity is not merely a hallucination or a simple trick of the mind. Rather, it may be an aftereffect of the growth Shinji brought back with him. Something… latched on."

The room remained deathly silent as Nezu continued.

"I suspect that whatever this thing is, it's piggybacking off his quirk. Almost as if it were manifesting in the same way one of Shinji's Jaegers does, only this time, there is no pilot."

His words hung in the air, their implications unsettling.

Cementoss frowned, his fingers tapping against the table. "So you're saying this isn't just psychological? That this could be something real, something external, but tied to him?"

Nezu nodded. "Precisely. If it were merely a delusion, then physical damage, such as the claw marks on the floor, wouldn't exist. But we all saw them. And if this presence truly originates from whatever Shinji encountered during his time away, then it may be more than just an aftereffect." He tilted his head slightly, his voice taking on a thoughtful edge. "It may still be active."

Yu's grip on her arms tightened. The idea of something following her brother, of something lingering in the wake of his return, sent an icy sensation creeping down her spine.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "That means we're dealing with an unknown force we don't understand. Something possibly connected to his quirk, but not his quirk itself."

Midnight crossed her arms. "Then the real question is—what does it want with him?"

Vlad King exhaled sharply, his arms resting heavily on the table. "Shinji said it himself, didn't he?" His deep voice carried the weight of his thoughts as he recited the words. "'I'm not you.'" He leaned forward slightly, his expression grave. "I assume that means this thing wants him to become something like it."

A heavy silence fell over the room as the weight of those words settled in.

Cementoss nodded slowly, his usually neutral expression darkened by unease. "If that's the case, then the real danger isn't just whatever this entity is, but what it's trying to make him into."

Present Mic, unusually quiet up until now, let out a slow breath. "If it's been with him this whole time… how much has it already influenced him?" His usual energy was gone, replaced by a rare, serious tone. "How much of him is still Shinji, and how much is being shaped by that?"

Yu's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "My brother is still himself," she snapped, her voice tight, defensive. "Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it doesn't get to decide who he is."

Aizawa cast her a sidelong glance, his gaze unreadable. "Maybe not. But if it's been whispering in his ear this whole time, pushing him, waiting for the right moment…" He sighed, eyes narrowing. "Then the real question is, what happens if Shinji starts listening?"

"He may have already," Nezu said, his voice calm but heavy with meaning.

The weight of his words settled over the room like a thick fog, tension crackling between the gathered teachers. The paused recording flickered in the dim light, casting elongated shadows that seemed almost accusatory. No one interrupted, all waiting for Nezu to continue.

The principal folded his small paws neatly before him. "From the reports given by the students after the USJ incident, Shinji fought the Nomu, let's not forget, a creature designed to kill All Might. And during that battle, he told one of his classmates Izuku Midoriya that he could not change his Jaeger again." His dark gaze swept over the room, his tone measured. "Despite this, we have multiple accounts confirming the extent of damage Shinji endured, damage that should have been crippling. And yet, he did not go down. In fact, he had switched Jaegers Again."

"But he kept going," Midnight added, her arms crossed, her brows furrowed in concern.

Vlad King frowned, his jaw tightening. "You're saying he shouldn't have been able to stand, let alone keep fighting?"

"Correct," Nezu confirmed with a small nod. "Most endurance quirks would have failed under that level of punishment. But Shinji? According to eyewitnesses, he fought as if he couldn't even feel it."

That got everyone's attention.

"I read the students' statements," Present Mic said, his usual boisterous nature dimmed by the weight of the conversation. "Some of them, Midoriya, Yaoyorozu, even Kirishima, said he didn't just endure the damage. He ignored it." His voice grew more serious. "For several minutes, he moved like nothing had even happened."

"That's impossible, we have all seen the damage reports," Vlad King said immediately. "Even the best pain resistance quirks can only do so much. His body should have given out."

"It should have," Nezu agreed. "But it didn't."

A heavy silence fell upon the room.

Yu swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the fabric of her sleeves as she tried to steady her breath. "Are you saying, are you seriously suggesting, that this thing inside my brother is keeping him standing?" Her voice wavered, raw with disbelief and something dangerously close to fear. "That it's, helping him?"

"Or," Present Mic said, subdued, "that he's using it."

Yu's stomach twisted.

Aizawa let out a slow, measured breath, his tone edged with something grim. "If this thing is reinforcing him, then the question becomes: how is it doing it, and what does it expect in return?"

Nezu's expression darkened. "Nothing is free." His ears twitched, his usual lighthearted tone nowhere to be found. "And if this entity is keeping him together, if it is fueling his strength, then it may only be a matter of time before it demands something in exchange."

Vlad King exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "And what happens when it does? When this thing decides it's done playing second fiddle and wants more?"

The weight of his words hung heavy in the room. No one had an answer, but the implications were suffocating.

"I think we're looking at this the wrong way," Midnight said, her gaze flicking between the frozen image of Shinji on the screen and Yu's pale, tight-lipped face. "We keep talking about what it wants, but what if it's not that simple? What if it's not just pushing him, what if it's changing him?"

That thought sent an uneasy ripple through the room.

Aizawa's voice came low and steady. "Shinji's quirk has always been unique. Complex. And now it's acting outside the limits we thought it had." He gestured to the screen, to the gouges in the floor that had appeared from an impact that supposedly didn't exist. "If it's adapting, evolving, altering the way his body interacts with reality… then we have to consider the possibility that Shinji isn't just drawing power from this entity."

Nezu nodded, finishing the thought. "It may be drawing power from him as well."

Yu's stomach twisted further. She clenched her fists in her lap, struggling to keep her voice steady. "You think it's, what? Leeching off him?"

Nezu steepled his paws. "Perhaps. Or integrating with him." His expression darkened. "And if it's becoming an inseparable part of his quirk, then we are no longer just dealing with a lingering effect of his time in the Breach." His eyes locked onto the frozen screen, the shadowed figure of Shinji standing amidst the wreckage of his own destruction. "We may be dealing with something that is actively rewriting who he is."

That silence returned, heavier this time. The idea settled deep, curling into the edges of their minds like a creeping infection.

Midnight was the one to break it. "Then the real question is… does he even realize it's happening?"

Yu swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted to say, of course, he does. Wanted to insist that Shinji, her little brother, would know if something was worming its way into his very existence. That he would fight it. That he would tell her.

But the truth was, she wasn't so sure anymore.

Because Shinji had fought like he couldn't feel pain.

He had ignored wounds that should have left him broken.

And worst of all, he had held things from her.

Her grip tightened, knuckles going white.

"…We need to talk to him," Aizawa said at last, his voice firm. "Directly. No more second-guessing, no more theories. He's the only one who can give us answers."

Yu looked up, meeting his gaze. "And what if he doesn't have them?"

Aizawa's eyes softened just a fraction.

"Then we find them."

Nezu let out a contemplative hum, tapping his claws lightly against the desk. "That's a logical course of action, Aizawa. However, " his beady black eyes flicked toward the frozen screen, toward Shinji's armored figure mid-outburst, "we have to consider the possibility that confronting him directly may backfire."

Aizawa's frown deepened. "Explain."

Nezu leaned forward slightly, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of certainty. "If we speak to Shinji outright about this… entity, this ghost, there is a strong chance we will be alerting it to the fact that we know it exists. And if that is the case, we must ask ourselves, how will it react?"

The unease in the room thickened.

Midnight's arms tightened around her chest, her fingers pressing into her sleeves. "You think it'll speed up whatever it's doing?"

Nezu nodded gravely. "If this being is truly trying to shape Shinji into something different, and if it is in any way aware or intelligent, it may take our interference as a threat. That could push it to accelerate its process before we can understand or stop it." His tail flicked, his voice still calm but carrying an edge of warning. "We may end up giving it the final push it needs to take complete hold over him."

The thought sent a fresh wave of discomfort through the group.

Yu's stomach twisted. She hated this. Hated the idea that something was inside Shinji, lurking, waiting, that they had to tiptoe around it, play a game of patience while it fed on him. Her hands clenched into fists in her lap, nails digging into her palms. "So what, we just do nothing?"

Nezu gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Not nothing." He straightened in his seat. "We keep a closer eye on him. Monitor him. If this entity is truly using his quirk as a medium to manifest, then we must observe the shifts in his power carefully. Any abnormalities, any signs that it is progressing, we take note of them. Track them."

Aizawa exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. "…So we watch. Wait."

"For now." Nezu inclined his head. "Until we understand exactly what we're dealing with, caution is our best defense. If this thing does not know we are aware of it, then we maintain that advantage." His gaze flickered toward the screen again, to the still image of Shinji's furious stance, his body rigid with frustration and fear.

Vlad King sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "This is a dangerous game we're playing."

Nezu nodded, his usual cheerful tone nowhere to be found. "Indeed."

The silence stretched between them, the weight of the decision settling over the group.

Yu exhaled slowly, but it did little to steady the racing thoughts in her mind. Watching, waiting, she understood the logic, she did. But the idea of standing back while something took Shinji, twisted him, changed him,

Her fingers dug deeper into her palms.

She wouldn't let it happen. No matter what.

Yu sat still for a long moment, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. Finally, she exhaled, her voice coming out quieter than she intended.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," she began, fingers tightening against the fabric of her pants. "But… why? He's just one kid Why are you all willing to go this far for him?"

Aizawa's gaze flickered toward her, but it was All Might who answered.

The former Symbol of Peace straightened, his features settling into something more solemn. "Because he's not just one kid," he said, his voice steady. "He's a student of U.A. That alone makes him our responsibility." His sharp blue eyes softened slightly as he continued, "Every student who steps through these doors entrusts us with their futures, their lives. I refuse to turn my back on even a single one of them."

Yu's breath caught in her throat.

All Might's hand curled into a fist against the table. "Shinji is strong, there's no doubt about that. But even the strongest heroes need support." His expression darkened, his brows furrowing. "I have seen what happens to those who are left to face their battles alone." He shook his head. "That will not happen to him."

For a moment, Yu had nothing to say. All Might spoke with such certainty, such unwavering conviction, that it was hard not to believe him.

Then Nezu chuckled.

It wasn't his usual high-pitched, chipper laugh. It was quieter, laced with something else, something unreadable.

"You humans are always so sentimental." He turned to Yu, his beady black eyes glinting with something sharp. "But if you must know my reason…" He smiled, though it wasn't particularly warm. "I don't care for humans."

Yu blinked. "Excuse me?"

Nezu's tail flicked, his small paws folding neatly in front of him. "Most humans, that is. I find the majority of them… tedious. Shortsighted. Self-serving." His expression didn't change, but there was something unsettling in the way he held himself. "But there are exceptions."

He gestured vaguely toward the others in the room. "Most of them happen to be in this very room right now."

Yu swallowed, something uneasy stirring in her chest.

Then Nezu tilted his head, his eyes locking onto hers. "And your brother is one of them."

The air felt thick and heavy.

Yu found herself gripping the edge of her seat. "…Why?"

Nezu's gaze didn't waver. "Because he is fascinating." He tapped a claw against the desk. "He is an anomaly. A puzzle yet to be solved. A boy who has endured what should have broken him, and yet he keeps moving forward." A slow, knowing smile crept across his face. "It would be a waste to let something else take that away, wouldn't you agree?"

Yu exhaled shakily.

She wasn't sure whether she found that reassuring or terrifying.

Probably both.

Nezu's eyes glinted with something that almost resembled pride as he continued, his voice softening just slightly. "And on the less logical side of it, Kaiju are a threat to all. Whether it be other creatures like myself or humans, they threaten the very existence of everyone on this little planet." He leaned forward slightly, his ears flicking as if to emphasize his point. "And a young boy, who is now a student of U.A., took that fight to them. To save one person." He paused, the weight of his words settling into the room.

Yu's breath hitched, and her gaze flickered to All Might, who nodded in agreement.

Nezu tilted his head, his tone almost casual, but there was an undeniable weight behind it. "I don't know about you, but that sounds like the very definition of a hero to me." He let the statement linger, the words ringing through the silence that followed.