My Hero Academia: Complete Victory

"Saving the world? Being a hero? Nah, I just came to fight." - Kurokami Tenshin.

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As everyone began to eat, the atmosphere seemed to shift. There was something peaceful, something warm about the meal. For a brief moment, Shoto allowed himself to wonder why this couldn't be the norm.

Why couldn't his family always feel like this? This was how it was supposed to be, wasn't it? Sitting around a table, sharing a meal, laughing—it seemed so natural.

Kuro, who had already finished his food at an alarmingly fast pace, leaned toward Shoto. "Hey, Shoto! What's your favorite food?"

Without even thinking, Shoto replied, "Cold soba."

Kuro's eyes lit up. "Nice! I love soba too! So, Bakugo's mom is having this small party soon. You should come! Me, Bakugo, and some others are hanging out. It'd be fun!"

Shoto paused for a moment. It wasn't like he had any other plans, and... maybe it wouldn't be so bad to spend time with his classmates outside of school. He thought about his usual routine—training, studying, dealing with his father... it was all so monotonous. Was it time to break that cycle?

"Sure, I'll come," Shoto said, surprising even himself.

Across the table, Fuyumi and Natsuo exchanged wide-eyed glances, barely able to contain their excitement. They silently cheered in unison, their eyes sparkling with joy.

This was it—a monumental event! Shoto had made a friend! Sure, Kuro was... peculiar, but Fuyumi and Natsuo didn't care. Shoto had agreed to hang out with someone on his own—this was a breakthrough.

Kuro, oblivious to the inner celebration going on between Shoto's siblings, grinned ear to ear. "Awesome! You'll have a blast, trust me. Bakugo might be grumpy, but he's fun at parties."

Everything seemed perfect—until Endeavor walked in.

The air immediately chilled. Everyone at the table tensed, the lightness of the moment vanishing in an instant.

Endeavor's heavy footsteps echoed through the room as he looked over his family, his intense gaze sweeping across Fuyumi, then Natsuo, before finally landing on Shoto. His eyes briefly flicked to Kuro, who he barely acknowledged, seeing him as nothing more than another one of Shoto's classmates.

"Shoto, we're training outside. Now." Endeavor's voice was low and commanding, leaving no room for argument. And then, without waiting for a response, he turned and left, his presence still looming over them.

The warmth that had filled the room moments ago was gone, replaced by a suffocating heaviness.

Natsuo and Fuyumi both felt their hearts drop, their silent excitement crushed in an instant. Of course, this would happen. Of course, Endeavor had to ruin it. They exchanged worried glances, knowing exactly what kind of 'training' this was.

Shoto, his face expressionless but his eyes dim, didn't move for a second. He could feel the familiar weight of his father's expectations pressing down on him, suffocating him. Not again...

Kuro, who had noticed the shift in mood, tilted his head in confusion. "Hey, Shoto, you good? You don't have to go if you don't want to, right? We've got that party!"

Shoto clenched his fists under the table, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. His father's command had been clear—there was no escaping that. But Kuro's words... they reminded him of something he'd been trying to fight for so long. The desire for freedom. The desire to be his person.

For a moment, Shoto thought about refusing. About standing up to Endeavor and walking away with Kuro. About choosing something for himself, for once.

But that moment passed as quickly as it had come.

"I'll... meet you later, Kuro. I have to go," Shoto said quietly, standing up from the table.

Fuyumi reached out as if to stop him, but her hand froze midway. She knew she couldn't intervene—not with Endeavor. Natsuo, fists clenched under the table, bit his tongue. This was Shoto's burden to bear... but it still infuriated him. He hated how powerless they all felt.

Kuro watched Shoto with a look of mild confusion and disappointment. "You sure? It's just training, right? You could skip it for today."

Shoto forced a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I can't. I'll see you at the party."

With that, Shoto walked out of the room, following the path his father had taken. As soon as he was gone, the room fell into an uneasy silence. Fuyumi sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Natsuo stared down at his empty plate, frustration written all over his face.

Kuro, still sitting there, blinked in confusion. "What's with him?" He asked innocently, looking at Fuyumi and Natsuo.

Fuyumi forced a smile, her voice soft and a little sad. "It's just... complicated."

Natsuo grunted in agreement, his jaw tight as he tried to contain his anger. "Yeah. Complicated... thanks to that bastard."

Kuro, sensing the tension but not fully understanding it, nodded slowly. Family stuff, he figured. He'd have to ask Shoto more about it later.

"Well, I guess I'll see him at the party, then," Kuro said, trying to lighten the mood. "You guys are welcome to join too, if you want."

Fuyumi smiled, though it was a little forced. "Thanks, Kuro. I think we'll pass."

Kuro shrugged, standing up from the table. "Alright! Well, thanks for the food. It was great." He waved enthusiastically as he headed for the door. "Tell Shoto I'll see him later!"

As Kuro left the house, the weight of Endeavor's presence still lingered. Fuyumi and Natsuo exchanged a glance, both of them silently hoping that one day, Shoto could break free from their father's grip. But for now, all they could do was wait—and hope that Kuro's presence in Shoto's life might offer him the support he needed.

As Kuro walked down the street, his usual smile plastered on his face, he couldn't help but think about how weirdly intense the Todoroki household was. But whatever, he thought. The party with Bakugo is going to be fun.

....

Shoto took a deep breath, adjusting his training clothes as he stood in the room. Finally, he thought. Now that Kuro's gone, he could just get through this "training" and—

"Weee! This floor is perfect for sliding!" Kuro's voice echoed through the room, interrupting Shoto's thoughts.

Shoto's face shifted into a look of sheer confusion and disbelief. There, on the marble floor, Kuro was rolling and sliding as if it were a playground. He showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.

"Why... are you still here?" Shoto asked, his voice a mix of shock and faint fear.

Kuro grinned up at him, still enjoying his impromptu sliding session. "Well, Endeavor's here, right? That means I can finally fight him! There's no way I'd miss a chance to fight someone that strong!"

Shoto couldn't help but let a small smile slip through. Of course, Kuro would have that kind of answer. There was something comforting about his straightforwardness, even in the face of someone as terrifying as Endeavor.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Endeavor himself walked in, his presence immediately dominating the room. Dressed in black pants and a black tank top, sweat glistened on his muscular frame—clearly, he'd just finished a brutal training session. His eyes flicked between Shoto and Kuro, sizing up the two students.

He paused for a moment, his mind flashing back to the Teacher's Meeting two days ago. There had been plenty of speculation about potential spies within UA and discussions about the students who stood out.1

One name, however, had come up more than the others: Kurokami Tenshin. Suspected by many to be the strongest freshman in the entire school. That alone piqued Endeavor's interest.

His gaze fixed on Kuro as if assessing him. "Fight Shoto," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Kuro's eyes lit up with excitement. "Fight Shoto?" He practically dragged Shoto out of the room and into the courtyard, grinning from ear to ear. "Come on, let's do this!"

Shoto, despite being on the familiar and traumatic grounds of the courtyard where he'd endured years of his father's relentless training, felt a strange sense of relief.

This was good. He could go all out against Kuro without holding back, and for once, Endeavor might take pleasure in watching his growth. It was a strange way to "act normal," but it worked for him.

Shoto adjusted his posture as they faced each other outside, the cool air brushing against his skin. Kuro was already stretching his limbs, full of energy as usual, and carefully placing his coat to the side.

The coat—Divine Spirit V2—had been meticulously repaired by Mei after the USJ incident, and it seemed to grow on Kuro more and more with each passing day.

Kuro looked at Shoto with his usual playful grin. "Alright, I'm going all out. Hope you're ready for this."

Shoto's eyes narrowed, his focus sharpening. "I wouldn't expect anything less," he responded coolly, his breath visible in the air as his ice quirk began to activate. He wasn't going to hold back, either.

This was it. Shoto had always wondered—was their Class President, this endlessly energetic and bizarre student, truly stronger than him?

Kuro bent his knees slightly, getting into his stance. Shoto could feel the air around him change, growing heavier with the palpable force of Kuro's Ki.

His movements, while loose and playful a moment ago, now became precise and intentional. This was the shift Shoto had heard about—when Kuro went from the carefree boy everyone knew to the relentless fighter beneath the surface.

"I'll start!" Kuro called, barely giving Shoto a moment to react before he launched himself forward.

Shoto raised his hand, sending a wide wave of ice toward Kuro, but Kuro was fast—too fast. In a blur of light purple energy, Kuro dodged the ice with fluid grace, zigzagging through the frigid onslaught. He closed the distance between them in seconds, throwing a punch toward Shoto's midsection.

Shoto barely had time to cover his body with ice, reinforcing his defense, but even with the extra layer of protection, the impact sent him sliding back across the courtyard, his feet digging into the ground.

He's faster than I thought.

Shoto recovered quickly, raising his left hand and releasing another burst of ice to keep Kuro at bay. Kuro, undeterred, danced around the attack, a grin still plastered on his face. He was enjoying this—really enjoying this.

"Come on, Shoto! Use that fire of yours!" Kuro teased, his voice ringing with excitement. "You're not fighting me with your whole heart unless you use everything!"

Shoto's expression hardened. He wasn't going to use his fire. Not now. Not ever.

Kuro's punches came faster and harder, his Ki swirling around his fists, making each blow heavier and more precise. Shoto knew he couldn't keep just relying on his ice for defense. Kuro was starting to predict his moves.

"You're holding back!" Kuro's voice called out again, his tone more serious this time. "I don't care if it's because of your dad or whatever—I'm not holding back, so you don't either!"

Shoto's hand froze mid-motion. How much did Kuro know about his father?1

Kuro's next attack broke through Shoto's defenses, his fist slamming into Shoto's ribs, sending him sprawling backward. The pain shot through Shoto's side, but it was Kuro's words that cut deeper.

Kuro stood over him, panting lightly from the exertion but still brimming with energy. "If you're not gonna use your flames, then I'll just have to force you to fight seriously!"

Shoto gritted his teeth as he got back up, refusing to give in. This wasn't about his father. It was about him. He wasn't going to use those flames—not now, not ever.

Kuro's eyes narrowed, the playful grin disappearing for a moment as he took a deep breath, focusing his Ki even more. His aura flared up, and the ground beneath him cracked slightly. "Alright, then. Let's see how long you can last, Shoto."

The fight resumed, each clashes more intense than the last. Shoto used every ounce of his ice quirk to keep Kuro at a distance, but Kuro's relentless speed and unpredictability made it impossible to keep him at bay for long.

Punch after punch, kick after kick—Shoto was being pushed further than he had ever been in any of his father's training sessions.1

And somewhere in the back of his mind, as he fought, he realized something—this was the most alive he had felt in years.

...

As Shoto and Kuro continued their fierce battle, the courtyard echoed with the sound of their quirk-infused strikes and determined yells. Inside the house, Fuyumi and Natsuo sat in tense silence. Fuyumi was quietly cleaning dishes, but her mind wasn't on the task. Natsuo sat across from her, his fists clenched, and his body language screamed frustration. He wanted to storm out and beat the hell out of their father—he'd lose, obviously, but anything felt better than sitting in silence.

Fuyumi stole a glance out the window, her mind lingering on a question she'd tried to suppress for years. Was their father truly irredeemable? Just as that thought crossed her mind, her gaze met Natsuo's. They both froze, and Natsuo broke the silence first.

"Do you hear that?" Natsuo asked, his voice low but tinged with surprise.

Fuyumi nodded slowly. That sound… it wasn't Shoto's usual cries of pain from training. Instead, it was something different. There was laughter. There were yells of excitement, talking, bragging—a sense of life that hadn't filled the courtyard in years. Shoto wasn't fighting just to endure anymore. He was enjoying this.

Fuyumi nearly dropped a plate, her hands shaking from the emotion that suddenly surged through her. She and Natsuo rushed outside, hearts racing, unsure of what they'd find but eager to see.

When they reached the courtyard, they saw them—Kuro and Shoto, locked in a fast-paced battle of quirk and skill. The tension of the fight was intense, but it was clear Shoto wasn't the same as before. He wasn't rigid, cold, or distant. He was alive, showing emotions that had been buried for far too long.

"That kid didn't leave, huh?" Natsuo muttered, half-smiling at Kuro, who was darting around the ice-covered yard.

"He did head for the door, but I guess he got distracted," Fuyumi responded, her voice soft and filled with awe. "But look at Shoto... he's really happy, isn't he?"

Natsuo glanced at her, his eyes softened with emotion. "Yeah," he whispered. "He's... happy."

Shoto's expression had shifted during the fight. Where once there was only stoic coldness, there was now a mix of focused determination, mild annoyance, and—dare they say it—joy. He was invested, fully immersed in the battle. It wasn't just about training or trying to please their father. This was something different. This was fun.

As Natsuo and Fuyumi took in the scene, Natsuo's stomach churned as his eyes landed on Endeavor. He stood at a distance, watching with an expression they had rarely, if ever, seen before—pride. His arms were crossed, but his usual harsh demeanor was softened, almost as if he were cheering for Shoto.

Natsuo's heart twisted at the sight. What a joke. Endeavor had no right to be proud now, not after everything he had done, not after the years of torment Shoto had endured. But at least, for once, Shoto seemed happy. And if this moment was bringing him some kind of peace, maybe... it was enough.

Out in the courtyard, Shoto was too focused to notice his siblings or even his father. He was entirely consumed by his fight with Kuro.

Dodge, strike, counter. The rhythm of the battle was unlike anything Shoto had experienced in his regular training. Kuro was relentless, fast, and unpredictable. Shoto narrowly dodged a swift kick from Kuro, summoning a wave of ice that surged up from the ground, encasing Kuro's leg. In a swift motion, Shoto trapped Kuro in a thick layer of ice, freezing him completely in place.

Natsuo, watching from the sidelines, let out a cheer. "That's it! You've got him!"

Fuyumi smiled, though she wondered if that had been a little too much. Shoto's ice can be... overwhelming.

Shoto stood back, breathing heavily as he stared at the frozen Kuro. Did I win? He gave the ice a cautious glance, waiting to see if Kuro would break free. A full minute passed, and Shoto let himself relax, convinced the fight was over.

But then—CRACK.

The ice around Kuro began to fracture, large chunks breaking away. Before Shoto could react, Kuro burst from his icy prison with a smirk, using the frozen remnants to hide his movements. In the blink of an eye, Kuro circled the courtyard, seemingly vanishing from Shoto's line of sight.

Before Shoto could fully comprehend what was happening, Kuro appeared behind him, delivering a swift kick aimed at his side. Shoto managed to block it just in time, but the force of the blow sent a shockwave through his body.

"Gotcha!" Kuro grinned, sweeping Shoto's legs out from under him in a seamless motion, slamming him into the ground with a thud.

Shoto lay there for a moment, staring up at the sky, the breath knocked out of him. Again? He cursed himself. This was the second time I've been tricked by Kuro thinking a strong attack would finish him off. Shoto sighed, admitting defeat.

Kuro, still smiling, crouched down next to him. "You did great, though. That ice trick was pretty cool!"

Shoto rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. "I fell for it again. You're unpredictable."

"Gotta keep you on your toes!" Kuro responded, clapping Shoto on the shoulder. "Now, uh... can you melt this ice around me? I think I froze my arms and legs again."

Shoto sighed in amusement. "Of course." He raised his hand, melting the ice around Kuro's limbs, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie with him. It was exhausting, but for the first time in years, it felt... good.

In the distance, Fuyumi and Natsuo watched with wide eyes, both stunned by the genuine laughter and energy coming from their normally reserved brother.

"He's really happy," Fuyumi whispered, barely able to hold back her tears.

Natsuo nodded, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. "Yeah. He really is."

...

The happiness that filled the courtyard was palpable, a rare moment for the Todoroki family. Shoto, for once, felt something close to normal. His siblings were happy, Kuro was grinning, and the burden of his family life seemed to fade, even if just for a little while.

But as the warmth of this moment spread, it was abruptly shattered. Endeavor strode over, his expression dark and unyielding. The shift in the air was immediate—like a storm cloud rolling in over a sunny day.1

Everyone's smiles faltered.

Endeavor's heavy boots crunched against the gravel as he made his way directly to Shoto, his voice low but sharp. "You're celebrating?" he growled. "That pathetic display of weakness? Losing to a childish trick?"

Shoto's heart dropped. He knew what was coming. His muscles tensed, but his face remained outwardly calm. Not here, not now, not in front of everyone.

Endeavor stepped closer, his towering frame casting a long shadow over Shoto. "You were careless, Shoto," he continued. "All that training—wasted." He reached out, grabbing Shoto's arm tightly. "Come with me. We're going to train now. You'll learn from this failure."

Shoto's body stiffened. He had just been happy—truly happy for the first time in years—but here was his father, ready to strip that away as if it meant nothing.

"Let go." Shoto's voice was low, but there was a dangerous edge to it. His eyes glowed with a familiar fury.

The memories flooded back. How many times had this happened before? How many times had Endeavor dragged him away, forcing him to train harder, pushing him beyond his limits for the sake of his father's twisted dreams? The very idea of it made his stomach churn with anger and dread.

Endeavor's grip tightened. "You don't get to relax after a failure like that, Shoto. Your job is to surpass All Might, not lose to some—"

"Let go," Shoto repeated, more forceful this time. His free hand clenched into a fist, ice creeping along the ground beneath him as his quirk reacted to his rising frustration.

Kuro, still recovering from the battle and rubbing his thawed-out limbs, immediately sensed the tension. His usual playful demeanor shifted, and he slowly stood up. "Hey, uh, maybe we should all just chill out for a second," Kuro said, trying to defuse the situation with his typical lightheartedness. "The fight was just for fun, right?"1

But Endeavor wasn't listening. His focus was singular, locked on Shoto. "You're coming with me," Endeavor demanded, his tone brooking no argument.

Shoto's heart pounded in his chest, the urge to fight back stronger than ever. He could feel his ice quirk surging within him, ready to explode.

For so long, he had allowed his father to control him, to dictate every aspect of his life. But now... after feeling the freedom of fighting on his terms, of being with friends who cared about more than just his power... he couldn't stand it anymore.

He looked up at his father, his eyes burning with icy resolve. "No."

The word hung in the air like a shockwave.

Natsuo and Fuyumi stared, wide-eyed, at the confrontation. They had both seen the aftermath of their father's relentless training sessions, the bruises, the exhaustion, the shattered spirit—but they had never seen Shoto stand up to him like this.

Endeavor's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did you say?"

"I said no," Shoto repeated, his voice calm but firm. "I'm not going with you."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Even the wind seemed to stop as if waiting to see what would happen next.1

Endeavor's grip on Shoto's arm remained, but his eyes betrayed a flash of surprise—he hadn't expected this. Not from Shoto. Not his perfect creation.

...

Shoto's arm ripped free from Endeavor's grasp, and for a fleeting moment, he felt the surge of adrenaline that always accompanied rebellion against his father. This is it, he thought.

 This ends now. But just as quickly as that resolve came, it faltered. As Shoto stared into his father's cold, unrelenting eyes, he realized that no matter what he did, he couldn't break free the way he wanted. Not yet.

Natsuo's sudden movement brought a brief hope. Shoto watched his older brother slide in front of him, his body a barrier between them. "That's enough!" Natsuo yelled, his voice quivering with anger. "You're not doing this again!"

But Endeavor's reaction was dismissive. He barely even registered Natsuo's presence, casually shoving him to the side like an inconvenience, sending Natsuo stumbling to the ground.

Fuyumi rushed down, taking a long way, desperate to keep the fragile peace intact. "Dad, please—" she started, her voice pleading, but Endeavor's gaze was unfeeling. He didn't even seem to acknowledge her as his daughter, just a distraction.

Shoto's fists clenched. His breath came in short bursts as the rage built within him. That's it, he thought. I'm done with this. Ice started forming on the ground beneath him, creeping outward from his feet, freezing the grass beneath.

But then...he caught a glimpse of Kuro. The class president was standing to the side, his usual playful expression replaced with something more confused like he couldn't quite process what was happening.

Kuro was watching. Not with judgment, but with a look that said he didn't understand this kind of family. And maybe that was the part that stung the most—this wasn't normal, even if it had been Shoto's reality for so long.

Shoto's anger began to waver. His ice retreated slightly as he looked at Kuro's confused expression, and he realized: He was going to see everything. The rage, the hate... the messed-up dynamic that had ruled his life for years. The shame of having this laid bare in front of his friend caused Shoto to pause. He didn't want to be seen like this. Not here. Not now.

Endeavor, seeing the hesitation, took the opportunity to grab Shoto's arm again, but this time Shoto didn't resist. The defiance that had sparked moments earlier fizzled out. "Let's go," Endeavor said coldly, pulling him away without even a glance toward Natsuo or Fuyumi.

Natsuo, still on the ground, slammed his fist into the dirt, his eyes wet with frustration and fury. "I'm so useless," he muttered, barely audible. Just like before. His mind went back to when their older brother, Touya, had been pushed the same way.

Back then, Natsuo had been helpless to stop it. And now, once again, he had failed. The weight of his failure pressed down on him like a boulder as tears dripped onto his clenched fists.

Fuyumi tried to reason with Endeavor, her voice trembling. "Dad, please, not like this. Just stop," she begged. But Endeavor didn't even look at her. His cold, detached expression never wavered, as if she weren't even there. He was focused solely on Shoto, his "masterpiece," and no one else.

Kuro, still watching the scene unfold, was uncomfortable. "Hey, uh… maybe we should all just calm down," he offered awkwardly, not sure what else to say. He wasn't used to this kind of situation—who could be?

The atmosphere had gone from light-hearted to suffocating in minutes, and Kuro was struggling to make sense of it all. He had seen Shoto fight with intensity before, but never like this—never with so much weight behind it.

But as Endeavor led Shoto away, the energy in the courtyard shifted again. The once-warm atmosphere froze over, leaving Fuyumi and Natsuo standing there, silent and defeated.

Fuyumi placed a trembling hand on Natsuo's shoulder, trying to comfort him, but her eyes were still locked on the back of their father, who had once again stolen a piece of their family's peace.

Shoto pulled along like a puppet on strings, barely registering the crushing sense of despair in his chest. He always wins.

As they disappeared from view, Kuro, still in the courtyard, scratched his head. "Uh… so, what now?"1

...

Endeavor, having thrown Kuro across the courtyard with casual force, adjusted his gloves with barely a glance at the boy. His fiery quirk left singe marks on Kuro's uniform, but the young hero stood back up, unfazed. Shoto, now free from his father's grip, watched the scene unfold in disbelief.

Kuro, of all people, challenging Endeavor? This wasn't some schoolyard scuffle—this was a real fight, against the number two hero. And Kuro wasn't backing down.

"Yo," Kuro repeated, the word hanging in the air like an omen. He raised his fist, the weight of his defiance behind it. Endeavor turned slowly, eyebrow arched, his expression one of amused disbelief. "Do your classmates fight your battles now, Shoto?" Endeavor asked, not expecting a response. Shoto remained silent, the tension thickening.

Without hesitation, Kuro surged forward, his body moving faster than expected for someone so small. He punched Endeavor once. CRACK. The sound echoed through the courtyard. Then twice. CRACK. CRACK.

A third punch, relentless and forceful, aiming for Endeavor's chest. But the pro hero remained unfazed, catching Kuro's fist with ease, his grip like iron. "Enough," Endeavor muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

With a swift motion, Endeavor threw Kuro across the courtyard, using a burst of flame to propel the toss. Kuro's body hit the ground with a thud, skidding across the dirt. The flames singed his clothes, and for a moment, it seemed like the fight had been settled. Just another kid overestimating himself.

But to Shoto's shock, Kuro rose again.

Kuro stood, expression calm, without the smile he usually wore. His wide eyes were fixed on Endeavor, but there was no anger, no fiery rage that typically fueled such confrontations. Just calm. Cold, almost. This was the Kuro he had seen during the practice match. The one who, even when charred and burned, kept moving forward with quiet intensity.

Silently, Kuro popped his shoulder back into place, the sickening sound echoing. His movements were precise, almost methodical. Endeavor stopped, turning fully toward the boy now, intrigued. "Do you even understand what you're doing?" Endeavor asked, his voice thick with condescension.

Kuro met his gaze without flinching. "You made my friends cry," he said simply as if explaining the weather. "So naturally, I just have to beat you up to fix it."

Endeavor scoffed at the childish logic, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "Pathetic," he muttered, though something was unsettling about the way Kuro spoke—like he believed he could do it.

Suddenly, Kuro's aura shifted, his energy swirling around him, light purple "Ki" flaring up as his body began to hum with power. His form condensed into something more controlled, more dangerous—"Flux." This wasn't the playful, airheaded Kuro his classmates knew. This was something else entirely. This was a final stand.

Endeavor's eyes narrowed, recognizing the shift. This kid…

Without a word, Kuro launched himself forward, the ground cracking beneath his feet as he shot toward Endeavor. His fist, infused with Flux, slammed into Endeavor's midsection with enough force to send shockwaves through the courtyard. Endeavor staggered slightly, surprised by the sheer power behind the hit.

"You've got some guts," Endeavor grunted, wiping his mouth as he reignited his flames, the temperature around them rising rapidly. His flames roared to life, casting an intense heat over the area, but Kuro wasn't deterred.

Kuro responded with a barrage of punches, his fists blurring as they connected with Endeavor's body. Each hit was precise, and calculated—he wasn't wasting any energy. But Endeavor was still the No. 2 Hero, and his body could take more punishment than most. He swung back with a flaming fist, but Kuro dodged, weaving in and out of the flames with practiced ease.

Shoto, standing off to the side, watched in stunned silence. This wasn't just a fight… this was a statement.

Endeavor, frustrated by Kuro's speed and refusal to back down, created a wall of fire, aiming to box the boy in. "You're playing with fire you can't control, boy," Endeavor said, his voice rumbling with authority. But Kuro was already moving, slipping past the flames with an agility that shouldn't have been possible.

"You think that'll stop me?" Kuro's voice was steady, and before Endeavor could respond, Kuro appeared behind him, slamming a knee into his back. Endeavor grunted in pain, but he twisted around, aiming a flaming punch at Kuro's head. The punch connected, sending Kuro sprawling across the courtyard, his body smoking from the heat.

For a moment, there was silence. Endeavor's flames crackled, and he stood tall, looking down at the fallen Kuro. "Know your place."

But Kuro… laughed.

The sound was soft at first, barely audible, but it grew louder as Kuro slowly stood again, his body bruised and burned. "You… you think this is enough?" Kuro's eyes gleamed with determination, even through the pain. "You're not fighting some weak villain, Endeavor. I'm not gonna stop just because you burn me a little."

Endeavor's eyes widened, just slightly, at the audacity.

Kuro wiped the blood from his mouth, his Ki flaring even brighter now. "Unbeatable? Sounds like fantasy to me."

With that, Kuro charged again, this time faster than before, and Endeavor had to brace himself as Kuro's fists flew toward him with renewed fury. Each hit reverberated through the courtyard and for the first time in a long while, Endeavor was truly annoyed.

Kuro's voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and ragged from the beating he'd taken. But the defiance in that single word—"Nah"—was deafening. His body was battered, his hero suit shredded and charred, burns marking his skin, and yet, there he stood. Arms limp, legs trembling, blood dripping from his mouth—but still standing.

Endeavor's grip tightened, his fiery gaze locked on the boy in front of him. "Why won't you just stay down?" he growled, his flames flickering in the air like a warning. To Endeavor, this was absurd. This kid, this weakling, kept getting up. Why? What was driving him?

Shoto, still watching from the sidelines, felt his heart sink with each hit Kuro took. Every punch, every kick—it was like he was the one getting hurt. Shoto could almost feel the phantom pain of his father's attacks, the familiar crack of bone, the suffocating heat of his flames. But this time, it wasn't him. It was his friend.

Kuro didn't flinch as Endeavor's flames roared around him, his eyes half-lidded, his breathing heavy but measured. What kept him going?

"Kuro, stop… please," Shoto whispered under his breath, his fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to jump in. He should jump in. But something stopped him. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was shame. But deep down, Shoto knew—this was what he should have done. All this time, he'd been standing on the sidelines, letting his father control him, and now Kuro was paying the price for it.

But then Shoto saw it.

The light around Kuro, his Ki, wasn't wild anymore. It wasn't erratic like before when he used "Flux." No, it was different now. More controlled. More focused. It wasn't just fluctuating around him—it was sticking to him, as if it had become a part of him. His feet hovered above the ground, not by much, but enough to show that he was doing something new.

He was flying.

Shoto's breath caught in his throat. "Even now... you're still holding back?" he murmured, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. This entire time, Kuro had been holding back.

Endeavor, noticing the change, narrowed his eyes. "You really think floating a few inches will help you? Enough." With a swift motion, he grabbed Kuro by the face again, lifting him off the ground as though he weighed nothing.

The air around them grew hotter, suffocatingly so. Endeavor raised his knee and slammed it into Kuro's stomach, the crack of breaking ribs echoing in the courtyard. Kuro's body jerked violently from the impact.

Shoto winced, hearing the sound of something breaking, and for a moment, he thought it was over. Surely this was it.

But Kuro... Kuro didn't stay down.

Through the pain, through the dizziness clouding his vision, Kuro pushed himself up, his legs barely holding him. His arms hung uselessly at his sides, likely dislocated from the sheer force of Endeavor's blows. But his eyes, barely open, were still focused. Still determined.

"Why…" Endeavor's voice rumbled like an approaching storm. "Why do you keep getting up? You're just a boy. You're outmatched. Outclassed. Stop."

Kuro's breathing was shallow, each inhales a struggle. But he smiled. It wasn't his usual goofy, carefree smile. This one was weak, barely there—but it was real.

"Because… I promised."

Endeavor's brow furrowed. "Promised? Promised what?"

Kuro's legs wobbled, and he dropped to one knee but still didn't fully fall. His voice was barely above a whisper now, but everyone could hear it. Shoto, Fuyumi, Natsuo, even Endeavor—all of them heard the words that left Kuro's mouth.

"I promised..to do what I want...like keeping my friends happy..." He coughed, blood splattering the ground. "And you… you made them cry." His one open eye fixed on Endeavor with a resolve that seemed impossible given his state. "So, yeah… I have to beat you up to fix it."1

Endeavor's flames flickered for a moment, as if unsure how to respond to such absurd logic. Why did this kid care so much? Why go through this? To Endeavor, it made no sense.

But to Kuro… it made all the sense in the world.

Shoto felt something stir inside him, something long buried beneath years of anger and resentment. Was this it? Was this the strength Kuro had been showing him all along? Not power, not flashy attacks, but this—the strength to keep getting up.

And for the first time in a long time, Shoto felt... inspired.

But it wasn't over.

Kuro's "Ki" began to surge again, stronger than before, wrapping around him like a second skin. It wasn't wild, it wasn't chaotic—it was focused. Directed. It was part of him now. And then, slowly but surely, he rose again, his feet hovering just inches off the ground.

Endeavor watched with narrowed eyes, his flames crackling around him. "You're going to regret this."

Kuro wiped the blood from his mouth, still smiling. "Maybe… but not today."

And with that, Kuro launched himself forward, faster than he had ever moved before. His fists, glowing with his Ki, slammed into Endeavor's flames, pushing through the intense heat. Punch after punch landed on the pro hero, each hit fueled by the sheer force of Kuro's willpower.

Shoto, watching from the side, felt a warmth in his chest. This wasn't about winning or losing anymore. This wasn't even about strength. This was about never giving up.

And for the first time, Shoto understood. Kuro wasn't fighting just for himself—he was fighting for everyone.1