The BalanceKeeper

The control chamber of Zone Blackridge was a cold, cavernous space, its walls lined with sleek, obsidian panels that absorbed the faint glow of the monitors. The air hummed with the low drone of machinery, a heartbeat beneath the silence. Kael stood at the center, arms crossed, his silhouette stark against the flickering light of the primary screen. His dark coat hung loosely over his frame, the collar turned up, as if shielding him from the world beyond.

The broadcast had just begun. The U.A. Sports Festival.

On the screen, the stadium erupted into chaos and color. Balloons soared into the morning sky, their vibrant reds and blues catching the sunlight. Fireworks crackled, painting the horizon with bursts of gold and crimson. The camera swept over the crowd—thousands of spectators, their cheers a roaring tide that seemed to shake the very foundations of the arena. Below, students marched in neat rows, their uniforms pristine, their faces a mosaic of nerves, ambition, and unbridled excitement.

Kael's expression was unreadable, his sharp features carved from stone. His eyes, a piercing black void that seemed to cut through the haze of the screen, betrayed nothing. Behind him, the chamber was empty. He had given the order hours ago, his voice low but unyielding: *"Don't disturb me today."*

Mira had nodded, her usual smirk replaced by a rare flicker of understanding. Reina, always the skeptic, had raised an eyebrow but said nothing, her silence a grudging acceptance. For once, Kael had entrusted the base to them—a rare gesture, like handing over a blade he'd forged himself. In return, they'd given him this solitude, this moment to stand alone with the weight of his choices.

He watched as the camera panned across the student ranks, lingering on faces both familiar and foreign. Then he saw her.

Yumi.

She stood near the center of her class, her posture steady, her hands clasped at her sides. Her hair was pulled back, framing a face that was neither proud nor anxious—just focused. Her eyes, sharp and searching, scanned the crowd, a subtle movement that most would miss. But Kael didn't. He knew that look. He'd seen it countless times, in moments of quiet before exercises, in the flicker of her gaze when she thought no one was watching.

"She's still looking for me," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers twitched at his side, a reflex he quickly suppressed.

He leaned closer to the screen, the faint hum of the console filling the silence. Memories clawed at the edges of his mind—sparring sessions in the rain, her laughter cutting through the storm, the way she'd dodge his strikes with a grin that dared him to try harder. He'd taught her to move like that, to think three steps ahead, to turn weakness into a weapon. And now, here she was, standing tall in the arena he'd walked away from.

A pang twisted in his chest, sharp and uninvited. He didn't indulge it. Instead, he straightened, his gaze narrowing as the broadcast shifted.

…

The obstacle course began with a thunderous start.

The screen blazed with motion—students surging forward, quirks igniting like a wildfire. Todoroki's ice swept across the field in glittering waves, walls of frost rising to block his rivals. Bakugo tore through the air, explosions propelling him forward with reckless fury, his shouts drowned out by the crowd's roar. Iida's engines roared, leaving trails of heat in his wake as he carved a path through the chaos.

But Kael's eyes were locked on Yumi.

She moved like a shadow, fluid and precise, weaving through the obstacles with a grace that belied her speed. Where others relied on brute force or flashy quirks, Yumi was surgical. She vaulted over a collapsing platform, her movements so seamless they seemed choreographed. When a robotic arm swung toward her, she twisted mid-air, landing lightly on its surface before sprinting along its length to leap ahead.

Kael's lips twitched, the ghost of a smile. "Still using that trick," he murmured, remembering the hours they'd spent in the training yard, perfecting her footwork. He'd push her until she was breathless, then push her again, teaching her to turn every disadvantage into an opportunity. *"Don't fight the terrain,"* he'd told her once, his voice firm but warm. *"Use it. Make it yours."*

She was doing exactly that now, navigating the course with a quiet brilliance that made the others look clumsy by comparison. When she crossed the finish line—fourth, behind Todoroki, Bakugo, and Izuku—Kael nodded slightly, as if confirming something to himself.

"She's faster," he said to the empty room. "And smarter."

…

The cavalry battle came next, a chaotic clash of strategy and power.

Kael leaned against the console, his arms still crossed, his eyes tracking Yumi's every move. She'd assembled her team with care: a telekinetic to shield her flanks, a speedster to match her pace, and a sensor to track enemy movements. It was a lineup that complemented her strengths and shored up her weaknesses, a testament to the lessons he'd drilled into her. *"Know your limits,"* he'd said, tossing her a water bottle after a grueling session. *"Then find people who don't have them."*

On the screen, Yumi's team moved like a single organism, their coordination flawless. Todoroki's ice walls rose to trap them, but Yumi anticipated it, signaling her telekinetic to redirect the frost into a ramp. She sprinted up it, her team following, snatching a headband from a rival team before they could react. Bakugo's explosions rocked the field, but Yumi danced around his blasts, using his aggression to draw him into overextending.

Kael's fingers tapped the console, a rare sign of restlessness. "You're playing chess while they're playing checkers," he said softly, his voice tinged with something close to pride. "You're as amazing as ever, Yumi."

He remembered the late nights in their apartment, the two of them hunched over a battered chessboard, Yumi's brow furrowed as she tried to outmaneuver him. *"You're too predictable,"* she'd teased once, her eyes sparkling as she claimed his knight. He'd laughed then, a rare sound that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.

Now, watching her command the battlefield, he felt that same warmth flicker in his chest. But it was fleeting, chased away by the weight of his choices. He'd left her behind to protect her, to shield her from the war he was waging. And yet, here she was, fighting her own battles, carrying the lessons he'd given her into a world he could no longer touch.

…

The final round arrived, a series of one-on-one battles that would crown the champion.

Kael's posture shifted, his body tensing as the brackets appeared on the screen. Todoroki. Bakugo. Yumi. Each name carried weight, but only one held his focus.

Yumi's first match was against a hulking student with a strength quirk. The boy charged, his fists like battering rams, but Yumi was untouchable. She sidestepped his blows with surgical precision, using his momentum to trip him into a wall. When he roared and charged again, she struck—a single, precise kick to his temple, amplified by her quirk. He crumpled, and the crowd roared.

Kael's eyes narrowed. "Clean," he said, his voice low. "No wasted movement."

Her next fight was against Todoroki. The arena became a frozen hellscape, ice walls rising like glaciers, flames licking at the edges as he unleashed both halves of his quirk. Yumi didn't flinch. She darted through the frost, using bursts of kinetic energy to shatter his barriers, closing the distance before he could react.

When his flames surged, she rolled beneath them, landing a strike that sent him staggering. It wasn't enough to win—Todoroki's raw power was too much—but she held her own, forcing him to fight harder than he'd expected.

Kael leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the console. "You're making him work for it," he murmured. "Good."

She ended the match by placing hidden traps through the stage, and once Todoroki walked over them, a surge of power would flare up, causing his balance to be lost at times. Yumi would send projectiles of energy at him as well, overwhelming him completely.

He was struck by a projectile and trapped at the same time, sending him flying out of the arena, slamming into the wall just beneath where Todoroki's own father stood.

The amount of rage Endeavor released was enough to make anyone laugh. Or so Kael thought.

The final match was Yumi versus Bakugo.

The arena was a powder keg, the crowd's tension palpable even through the screen. Bakugo was a storm of rage and fire, his explosions tearing through the air, his shouts echoing like thunder. Yumi stood opposite him, her stance calm, her eyes like still water reflecting a coming storm. She didn't taunt him, didn't flinch. She waited.

The fight began, and Bakugo charged, his explosions relentless. Yumi moved like a phantom, dodging blasts with a dancer's grace, her energy bursts deflecting shrapnel. She baited him, letting his fury build, drawing him into overextending. When he lunged, screaming, she struck—an explosive arc of raw power that caught him mid-air and hurled him into the stadium wall.

The impact shook the arena. Bakugo slid to the ground, unconscious, and the crowd erupted.

Kael didn't move. His eyes were locked on Yumi, standing alone in the center of the arena. Her fists were clenched, her head slightly bowed. She didn't wave, didn't smile. The victory was hers, but there was no triumph in her expression—only a quiet, aching resolve.

"She's not celebrating," Kael murmured, his voice barely audible.

The memory of their apartment flooded back. Coffee steam curling in the morning light, Yumi's voice chiding him to get more sleep, her laughter filling the quiet spaces between missions. *"You're gonna crash one day, Kael,"* she'd said once, tossing a pillow at him. *"And I'm not dragging you to bed."* He'd smirked, tossing it back, and for a moment, the world had felt lighter.

Now, watching her stand alone in the arena, he saw the weight she carried. She missed him. She wasn't hiding it.

"…Sorry, Yumi," he whispered, the words so soft they barely reached the air. "I said I'd protect you. But here I am wishing I could be there with you."

He leaned against the console, his shoulders slumping, and sighed. The screen flickered, the broadcast cutting to the award ceremony. Bakugo, chained and snarling in defeat. Todoroki, accepting third place with quiet composure. Yumi, standing on the podium, her gaze distant, searching the crowd one last time.

Kael turned away.

…

Halfway across the world, under a crimson moon, a different screen glowed in a hidden chamber.

The room was a stark contrast to Kael's control center—ancient, almost ritualistic, its stone walls etched with symbols that pulsed faintly with an otherworldly light. Ten chairs circled a massive obsidian table, one of them empty, its occupant—Rank 9—long dead. The air was thick with tension, the kind that comes when gods discuss mortals.

The monitor at the table's center displayed Kael's face. His fight with Varn, a monstrous villain whose quirk had leveled cities. Kael's teleportations, blinking through space like a phantom. His rescues, pulling civilians from collapsing buildings. The giant snake, its scales glinting like obsidian, felled by a single, devastating strike. The blood on his hands, his coat, his face.

His name echoed through the chamber: *Equinox*.

"He's grown beyond us," muttered Rank 7, a wiry man with eyes like burning coals. His fingers drummed the table, each tap a spark of unease. "I've never seen power compound like this. Every quirk he takes… it's like he's rewriting himself."

Rank 4, a woman with hair like molten silver, leaned forward, her voice sharp. "He's building a world under our nose. Not a base, not an army—a *belief*. People are starting to whisper his name like he's some kind of prophet."

"And they follow him," said Rank 6, his voice low, almost reverent. A hulking figure with scars crisscrossing his face, he gestured at the screen. "He steals their quirks, leaves them powerless, and the people that follow him *thank* him. That's the scariest part. He's not just a threat—he's a symbol."

Rank 3, a younger man with a nervous tic, glanced around the table. "He's getting harder to track. We don't even know what powers he's taken anymore. Teleportation, strength, some kind of energy manipulation—how many quirks does he have now?"

"Too many," said Rank 5, her voice clipped. She adjusted her glasses, her gaze cold. "And he's not stopping. Every fight, every mission, he grows stronger. We can't predict his limits because he doesn't have any."

A cold voice cut through the murmur. "Neither does he."

All eyes turned.

Rank 1 stepped into the light, her presence like a shadow swallowing the room. She was clad in flowing black fabric, her face hidden behind a porcelain mask carved with cracks that seemed to pulse with faint, eerie light. Her reputation preceded her—a being so feared that even All for One had steered clear. Her eyes gleamed beneath the mask, sharp and unyielding, like twin stars in a void.

"You're all fools," she said, her voice a blade wrapped in silk. "You act like numbers will stop him. Like plans will slow him. He's not a man anymore—he's a force. You can't quantify a storm."

Rank 5 bristled, her hands tightening into fists. "We can't risk your quirk, One. If he takes it, he'd be unstoppable. The world would bend to him."

"Then don't let him take it," Rank 1 said coolly, her tone almost amused. She paced slowly, her robes whispering against the stone floor. "You're all so busy calculating his power, you've forgotten what makes him dangerous. It's not the quirks he steals—it's the *why*. He doesn't crave power for power's sake. He's building something. A world where people like us don't exist."

Rank 7 scoffed, though his voice wavered. "You want to fight him? You, of all people?"

"No," she said, pausing by the empty chair of Rank 9. Her fingers brushed the back of it, almost reverent. "I want to *meet* him."

Gasps rippled through the room. Rank 4's eyes widened, her composure cracking. "You can't be serious. He'd try to tear through you—"

"I've seen what fear looks like," Rank 1 interrupted, her voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to echo in their bones. "He doesn't have it. That makes him dangerous. But what makes him terrifying… is that he doesn't deliberately try to outright attack us. I believe he doesn't even think of us."

She turned, her mask catching the crimson light of the moon through a high window. "But the very moment he does? We'll wish he hadn't."

She swept out of the room, leaving silence in her wake. The others exchanged glances, their faces pale, their hands trembling. On the screen, Kael's image flickered, his eyes staring through the monitor as if he could see them.

Back in Zone Blackridge, Kael stood alone, the broadcast long ended. The control chamber was dark now, except for the faint glow of the console. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, worn photo. Yumi, smiling, her arm slung around his shoulders, the city skyline behind them.

He stared at it for a long moment, then tucked it away.

"Keep fighting, Yumi," he said softly. "I'll finish what they started."

…