U.S.J Part two: In the darkest times

Witnessing Toshinori repeatedly struck by the hulking abomination sent a chilling shock through every sense and nerve in Izuku. Gritting his teeth, he tightened his hand into a firm grip while his eyes widened with a subtle tremor in the irises. Attempting to rise to his feet, he managed a couple of limping steps, only to be seized by an excruciating pain that surged from his legs to his spine, ultimately forcing him to crash onto his knees. Both arms burrowed into the dirt as he struggled to hold himself up, accompanied by a pained groan. "It hurts so much," lamented the green-haired teenager in frustration, his eyes taking an unnatural strain as he buried his fingers into the soil and clenched them into tight fists.

Amid raging chaos, blood slowly stained his suit and slowly made its way through the fabric. Izuku's weary gaze absorbed the unfolding mayhem of quirks going off in every conceivable direction. His senses were overwhelmed by a scent that blended the metallic tang of blood with the earthy aroma of soil, accompanied by horrified screams and clashes reverberating around him. From one direction, anguished groans and the stream of colliding quirks erupted as every one of his classmates and friends fought for survival. Turning to gaze at the plaza, Izuku could see that All Might was held down by an abomination, its hand gripping the blonde hero's neck. Toshinori's eyes revealed an expression of utter defeat. His every inhalement of air was labored and heavy as he flailed helplessly. The image of a defeated symbol of hope had now seeped into Izuku. A realization struck him as he shifted his gaze between the battered blonde hero and the ongoing destruction surrounding them.

"I've gotta do something to help All Might otherwise—" Izuku suddenly had the urge to vomit, and a moment later, he was huddled on the ground, puking the contents of his stomach on the dirt. The overwhelming choice burdened the young teenager, prompting frustrated groans that manifested in visible tremors. At that moment, a sense of hopelessness pervaded, and despite Izuku's earnest contemplation, no alternative solution presented itself. Opting to aid his classmates would likely result in Toshinori's demise. Conversely, supporting All Might might provide a chance to shift the battle's tide, but at the cost of exposing his classmates to almost certain peril. The mere consideration of this dilemma inflicted an almost heart-wrenching pain on Izuku, compelling him to clutch the fabric over his chest. His breathing grew more labored, and his body shook uncontrollably.

"I don't want this to be the end," the green-haired teenager lamented, the corners of his eyes tightened, lips quivering ever so slightly. His body succumbed to an involuntary collapse, folding inward as he recoiled from the overwhelming pressure and fear that gripped him. As the green-haired teenager numbed from the horror that choked him, his every sense honed on the erupting explosions and pleading screams surrounding him.

The conflict within Izuku reached a boiling point, his mind desperately grasping for a solution. With a sudden surge of desperation, he sucked in air, his lungs expanding to their limit, eliciting a flicker of crackling electricity surging through his veins. In an instant, an intense, searing pain erupted within him. Every nerve in his body was burning. Izuku's guttural cry echoed through the electricity sparking off him, tearing small chunks of terrain off the surroundings like a lightning storm. The electricity beating through his body seemed to have a will of its own, resisting his attempt to harness it.

His body convulsed involuntarily, and in the throes of agony, Izuku's resolve faltered. The fabric of his costume clung uncomfortably to his drenched skin as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. With a final, shuddering gasp, Izuku expelled a torrent of vomit. His body, trembling and weakened, collapsed onto the dirt, leaving him breathless and drained. The green-haired teenager lazily gazed at the building ceiling. He could vividly see frames of his mother sobbing and her arms wrapped around him while his younger self pointed at All Might's commanding frame on display. The scene transformed, and suddenly, Izuku hunched up on the floor as laughter and ridicule echoed in the air. A few tears traced the contours of his cheek, carving a silent path down to his jawline.

He refused to quit, clinging to the last vestiges of his beliefs. Yet, despite his relentless efforts, his body remained stubbornly unresponsive, and for a fleeting moment, his will faltered. A wave of melancholy washed over him, threatening to engulf his resolve. Suddenly, a familiar voice pierced through the veil of his thoughts, sending instant chills down his spine.

"Young Midoriya, I have chosen you," a voice beckoned, jolting him to open his eyes. The faint scent of dirt lingered in the air as an unseen force propelled him back onto his feet, compelling him to press forward despite an overwhelming burning pain seizing his senses. With each heavy step, the green-haired teenager dragged himself onward, echoes of memories whispering within, casting a reluctant glow across his features.

Soon after, an image of Denki interjects, his arm raised. "Promise?" resonates the yellow-haired teenager's voice, prompting Izuku to extend his arm as his strides quicken. The scene shifts to a young version of Bakugo, pointing a thumb at himself, his innocent grin beaming. "I'll become the strongest hero in the world, and you'll be my sidekick. Got that?" he declares with exuberance, turning around to dash forward, signaling for the green-haired teenager to join him. Izuku's eyes glow in response before a memory of Kyoka's soft, snarky voice rings in his ears, urging him to hasten his pace as his feet firmly grip the sand. "All you need is this," she teases as her form dissipates into his chest, spreading a warmth in Izuku that triggers a spark of electricity to go off and swirl around in his irises. Izuku felt the warmth take hold of his back and legs before traveling down to his back and then his legs.

"I won't let them down," he whispers in tandem with deep inhalement of air before an ear-piercing explosion of sparking electricity surges him forth, enveloping his form. He disappears, leaving behind a visible crater where he once stood. Now, he gracefully dances along the edges of the dome walls, gathering speed. Every cell and fiber within him ignites with an unyielding fire, and waves of pain stream through his body. With each extension of his legs and a sweeping motion of his arms, time seems to slow before finally grinding to a halt. A tranquil stillness envelops everyone around him, their bodies frozen in suspended animation. Izuku at his moment found the ends of his mouth slowly curving up as he accelerated.

With an accepting smile, Izuku accelerated, the sensation of a myriad of needles jabbing at every pore of his lungs. The surroundings distorted with his ongoing battle against the forces of gravity and reason, his arms slicing through the air. In the next moment, every student within the dome witnesses Izuku painfully racing past them, from one location to another, at a blinding speed. All that remained was a gust of wind, leaving behind a trail of rocks and dirt that bore the lingering imprints of light as if a spectral luminescence had brushed across. The remnants of the sparks left a faint residue that gradually faded away, casting a mysterious and ephemeral glow on the rugged terrain.

In the whirlwind of destruction, Izuku propelled himself at incredible speeds, the students stood frozen, their eyes only able to catch a blur of green rushing past them. Villains dissolved into thin air one at a time, leaving behind a disorienting void. The students, caught in a whirlwind of confusion, struggled to make sense of the rapidly unfolding spectacle. The abrupt disappearance of the threats heightened their shock, and all that remained in their bewildered gaze was the lingering trail of vanishing electricity, and sparkled bodies of unconscious villains lying around.

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Aizawa Shota, a man usually known to be stoic and almost uncaring to his colleagues and friends, now exhibited a furious scowl, his eyes in a heavy frown as he continued to strike, parry, and evade while clashing with the white-hooded archer. His opponent successfully dual-wielded tactical knives to immaculate perfection as he delivered an onslaught of attempts to try and pierce the weakened underground hero. In the wake of absolute terror, the black-haired teacher began slowly staggering as cut after cut began slowly seeping through his guard. He had never seen an individual train their hand-to-hand prowess to such levels and inhibit excellent precision with every minute adjustment. Aizawa's eyes strained in a realization that the hooded opposition had not revealed or shown any evidence using quirk. While some quirks can function while not showing any outward effect, the archer had not displayed anything that could be classified. 

"You. Are you confident you can defeat me without relying on your quirk?" the fatigued Aizawa called out, intercepting both knives with the cloth wrapped around his hand.

"Now, isn't that ironic?" The hooded man's voice resonated through robotic filters before delivering a powerful kick aimed squarely at the center of the black-haired teacher's chest. Aizawa backstepped, reeling from the impact. "I was forged to be an instrument of death. Quirks are meaningless to me," the hooded man declared, then launched into a sprint, dancing in a pirouette as he resumed his onslaught. Aizawa could only dodge the strikes and try to redirect them, and eventually, the white hooded man turned his head slightly to gaze at the students who were still unmoving from the fear and shock.

 The black-haired hero observed with a blend of astonishment and concern as the hooded figure persistently showcased a proficiency and skill level that surpassed any adversary he had encountered before this moment. Each successive movement, slice, and lunge danced perilously close to their intended target. With each passing second, the patterns and grace of the hooded figure's maneuvers intensified.

Aizawa found himself inundated, recognizing that his opponent wasn't merely dangerous but formidable, exhibiting unparalleled mastery in combat. His gaze remained fixated on the hooded figure as their dance neared a crescendo. Dodging and delivering strikes in tandem, neither gained the upper hand, yet gradually, Aizawa lost ground. The confrontation unfolded with an intensity that left even the seasoned hero grappling with a profound sense of vulnerability.

"Weak. Worthless. Fighting a man with no killing intent dulls my blade." the hooded man remarked in a vacant tone.

"If I cross that line, I am not any different from you. I doubt you can ever understand that." Aizawa snapped back, deftly dodging another horizontal slice.

"Your precious sense of justice is as fragile as your fallen comrade." The man mocks, glancing at the limp body of the thirteenth lying further away from them. "How does it feel to know that your ideals couldn't save her? Will you be able to say that when I slit your student's throats open?" 

Aizawa's focused and calm gaze suddenly shattered; one moment, he was stoically deflecting strikes, and the next, he was throwing new strikes at a vicious pace, not giving an inch for his opposition to breathe. A man who would pride himself on his ability to stay calm had descended into a silent rage. As he continued to increase his pace, the force behind each blow intensified, echoing the rhythmic cadence of his breathing. His broken and battered body moved on instinct and a desperate need to fulfill his purpose, had turned his movements into a graceful dance of strikes and kicks mixed with the vicious intent to eliminate his opposition.

Finally, one strike broke through the guard, cracking the mask of the hooded man as he snapped his face sideways. Silently turning his neck to face Aizawa, he had a predatory white gleam in his eyes that held a cold and menacing call to battle. Slowly, the hooded man began circling the black-haired man, waiting for his next opportunity. 

"You will not touch my kids," Aizawa whispered in a commanding tone. His gaze continuously tracked the hooded man, with neither giving up nor showing an opening for attack. Both of them stepped forward, intent on clashing again. 

"I don't think you are in a position to worry about them," the figure said with a growl. With their stances solidified, as the two of them were about to collide again, screams reverberated from the entrance. Aizawa's eyes widened, and promptly, he turned his head just enough to see the unfolding horror.

Uraraka, Ida, and Sero were reeling from the panic as their attempts to defend against the mist-form assailant, Kurogiri, proved futile. His movements possessed a fluidity that seemed almost unnatural, leaving the trio struggling to anticipate his next move. Precision strikes landed with devastating accuracy, rendering the young heroes incapacitated. As they crashed onto the cold, unforgiving floor, the misty form of Kurogiri enveloped them, an air of impending doom settling in everyone's thoughts as they slowly pushed themselves up.

Kurogiri effortlessly shifted his form into a purple mist, his figure looming above ominously as he delivered and deflected any attempt to strike or run past him. His yellow eyes glared with a hint of an eerie glow before raising both arms with palms upturned to the roof. He slowly stepped forward, and purple mist erupted from each palm, swirling gracefully like ethereal tendrils. With each step, the mist followed, cloaking the figure in an enchanting shroud as they moved with deliberate and mesmerizing grace. Menacing gestures and raised palms created an atmospheric spectacle, sending shivers down Ida's spine and evoking an overwhelming sense of fear. Slowly, he stepped backward, each movement of his muscle fibers accompanied by an accelerating heartbeat. The sheer power on display made him contemplate giving up, feeling intimidation by its presence. Just as he was on the verge of instinctively faltering, a voice snapped him out of his trance.

"Ida, we'll distract him. When you see an opening, run for it!" Uraraka gasped for air, and the three teenagers ran at the menacing villain. Ida stood frozen in place, fear and confusion rooting within him as the purple shroud began to disperse, slowly surrounding the trio. Kurogiri Uraraka, delivering a punch through his portal. Just as the strike was about to make contact, something unexpected occurred. The mist tendrils slowly faded out, revealing the humanoid form of Kurogiri. It was the black-haired teacher now glaring with a painful glare before the white-hooded man leaped into the air, launching a series of kicks and then followed them up with a string of jabs. Aizawa narrowly intercepted the incoming onslaught, barely staying away from danger as a soft smirk graced the assailant's features. Abruptly, a wincing groan erupted from the black-haired teacher whose gaze shifted downward, revealing a knife plunged into his ribs, causing him to stagger backward a few steps. Succumbing to pain and loss of strength, the black-haired crashed onto his knees. The hooded man slowly approached him with the remaining blade now squarely held inches away from his neck.

"Witness as yet another soul has to pay for pursuing an idealistic justice." the hooded man's cold undertone voice reached out, and promptly, every student fighting stopped in their tracks. They turned to see their teacher facing them blades softly pressing down against his neck, and a myriad of horrified screams erupted.

"Sensei!"

"Let him go..!"

As teenagers prepared to rush to their teacher's aid, a purple mist exploded forth, grabbing every student by their ankles as screams of horror echoed. The now calm black-haired man softly closed his eyelids, sensing the stillness of the air. With a reassuring outcry, he called out to his students.

"Survive kids," a warm grin etched on the end of his features.

"Collective sends their regards, Eraser Head," the hooded figure declared. As he started to move his knife, poised to slice through the neck, a bolt of green blur surged between the two men. The archer was knocked prone by the unexpected force, the illumination revealing the immediate area.

In that split second, the sparking light collided with the purple mist, sending a metallic object around its neck askew and dragging the mist along. Consecutive collisions and clashes erupted, captivating the attention of the three confused teenagers, who looked on in awe.

"Iida! No--" Uraraka's scream was drowned out by the roar of the engines propelling the blue-haired boy forward. His features twisted in panic, sweat streaming down his face as he sprinted with all his might. The sparking electricity went off in every direction as tremors of clashes felt by everyone present. Ida could hear and feel the air shifting. What was a horror-filled scene was now overwritten by a radiating gleam. Slipping past the entrance, Ida cast a last glance behind him.

"I will make this count," he whispered with a glint of regret, his form gradually fading into the distance. The hum of engines raged in the distance, relieved Aizawa wore a soft grin as he realized the unfolding events. His vision blurry as he tried to force himself up. Conversely, the white-hooded man opted to retreat, pocketing his knife and unsheathing a bow. Arrows rained down on the three dazed teenagers, prompting the green blur to disengage from Kurogiri. In a swift move, he reappeared in front of the trio, deflecting the projectiles by grabbing them in mid-air. Simultaneously, Kurogiri activated his quirk, vanishing and reappearing behind the hooded man.

"Our time has run out," declared a purple mist with yellow eyes, its tone cold as it activated its quirk once more, materializing a small portal. A pair of men readied themselves to step through, and in swift succession, their figures dissolved into the portal. Izuku, quick to react, altered his trajectory, seamlessly vanishing into thin air just as the portal began to dissipate.

"That was… It was..!" Ashido exclaimed in a shocked relief.

"Midoriya," Uraraka gracefully finished as she kneeled to put pressure on the slowly gasping teacher's wound.

"Midoriya, you better make it out alive so I can give you a proper detention," Aizawa whispered as everyone shifted their gazes toward the unfolding battle in the plaza.