Hero Killer: Stain vs U.A. Students

Soaring aloft, you embraced the azure infinity with the ease of a seasoned flyer until a peculiar tug seized your senses — Izuku was in peril.

With a ferocious snarl that tore through the tranquility of the skies, you banked a tight spiral, descending with blistering urgency toward the urban sprawl below. As the touch of civilization neared, you seamlessly transitioned into a graceful glide, weaving through the monoliths of steel and glass until a pungent cocktail of blood and malice assaulted your nostrils.

A cauldron of fury simmered within, spilling over in a venomous hiss upon the revelation of Izuku's tormentor. There, a figure cloaked in shadows, his long black hair a whispering darkness against the pale of his skin. A blood-drenched bandana ensnared his face, his eyes flickered with the ferocity of a feral wolf amidst the glint of twin swords.

With protective instincts trumping all else, you unleashed a thunderous growl and alighted with authoritative force before Izuku, Todoroki, and Iida. Inquiries would come in time; for now, it was just you and this peculiar, sanguine-scented menace.

"Ahh, the Dragon Hero descends from her lofty perch to grace us," the man jeered, his grin wicked as he brandished a glimmering sword tip. You met his mockery with an unyielding glare.

Screams of frenzy shattered the standoff — "Speak, won't you, darling?" he taunted. A twitch of your tail was your only retort, but Izuku's protest barely grazed your consciousness — "No!" he pleaded.

You surged forward, fueled by a single, unshakable intent; the sharp sting of steel was inconsequential. For in that reckless and heroic moment... the world blinked out.

💘

Izuku's eyes were wide with horror as he gazed upon your form, which now seemed as fragile as a leaf upon the wind, while Stain blinked his large orbs in shock. "What..." he began, his voice barely a whisper against the sudden inferno that erupted.

A wrathful jet of flames roared forth, a fiery dragon's breath that nearly scorched Stain's very being. "YOU MURDERER!" Shoto's growl rumbled like thunder, his bicolored eyes ablaze, an intertwining dance of frost and fire reflecting his inner turmoil.

Izuku felt a knot form in his chest. He had never seen Shoto so consumed by rage, so unrecognizably formidable; the intensity of it frightened him more than he cared to admit.

Stain expelled a loathsome splatter of blood and fiercely shook his head. "Do you truly believe I'd slay her?" He snapped, his voice a snarl of protest. "I'd incapacitate, immobilize, not spill her insides!" His hand flew to his temple as confusion warred with his anger. "I... I..." He stammered, his eyes expanding in dawning awareness, igniting with the fury of accusation. "This is your doing!"

Shoto's fury mirrored back just as passionately as he sent another lash of fire spiraling towards Stain, who narrowly evaded once more.

"Cease this madness!" Iida interjected sharply, seizing Shoto's arm. "Your fires, your ice—they achieve nothing in this moment! Our duty is to protect, not to cast accusations, not to name a villain prematurely!"

Shoto's glare was as sharp as shards of ice. "He wounded Echo. Does that not demand justice, retribution?!" he spat bitterly.

Iida's exhale was laden with weary resolve. "Justice, yes, but it shall find him in due time," he asserted, placing a firm hand on the younger hero's shoulder. "Trust me—is this not what we have learned? Revenge is not the path of true heroism, Shoto."

But with an impatient shrug, Shoto dismissed the counsel and turned his back on them.

As Iida and Izuku moved past Stain, their eyes met in silent accord, and they approached your still form. To their surprise, you were lighter than they anticipated, a sobering symbol of your ethereal spirit. In a mournful procession, they bore you back to U.A., a somber quietude enveloping them.

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Silence swept over the classroom like an unwelcome shadow, even the typically stoic Aizawa searching the faces of his students for answers as Izuku and Iida bore your inert form into Recovery Girl's care.

Words felt impossible.

It wasn't until the cluster of concerned classmates huddled in the infirmary, eyes fixed on you, that any semblance of noise returned. Recovery Girl, seasoned with years and wisdom, conducted her examination with practiced hands. "No need to fret, children," she reassured, her voice a balm to their anxieties, "She'll pull through just fine," provoking a chorus of relieved sighs. Some wept tears laden with the weight of worry released.

Aizawa's voice cut through the lull, "When will she awaken?" His inquiry echoed their silent pondering.

Recovery Girl offered only a noncommittal shrug, the uncertainty uncommon in her experienced mien. "I've not tended to ones like her before. Healing is an unpredictable art at times."

She then shoed the class away with gentle firmness, "Well, off you go. She's in safe hands here, so shoo, shoo!"

Like leaves scattered by the wind, they reluctantly dispersed, restoring the quiet that seemed too vast, too heavy, for the room to hold.