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In MHA, I Have A Pirated Version of Gojo's Limitless: 18 Territory Wars 2
🕑 Added 2025-07-11 16:25:27 +0000 UTC## Multiple POVs - The News Spreads
### Lunch Period - Cafeteria
"Did you guys hear about the fight?" Yuki whispered excitedly as she sat down with her lunch tray.
"What fight?" her friend Ami asked, though she was already leaning in with interest.
"Bakugo challenged the new kid to a quirk fight after school. Behind the gym."
"No way."
"Yes way! I was there. Bakugo literally exploded a desk and everything."
Ami's eyes widened. "Is he insane? Didn't the new kid take down that sludge villain?"
"That's what makes it interesting," said Kenji, a boy from Class 3-A who'd clearly been eavesdropping. "Either Bakugo knows something we don't, or he's about to get his ass handed to him by someone who's been in school for exactly four hours."
"My money's on the new kid," Yuki said confidently. "You should have seen how calm he was. Like, Bakugo was literally screaming and throwing explosions around, and this guy was making jokes."
"Jokes?"
"He asked if Bakugo was asking him on a date."
The entire table erupted in laughter.
---
### Teacher's Lounge
"Hayashi-san," Vice Principal Sato called out as Mr. Hayashi entered the lounge looking like he'd aged five years in one morning. "How's our new student adjusting?"
"He's..." Hayashi paused, considering his words carefully. "Memorable."
"Memorable?"
"He's managed to start what appears to be a legitimate rivalry with Bakugo Katsuki in the span of a single class period."
Sato winced. "Oh no. What happened?"
"I'm not entirely sure. One moment they were doing introductions, the next moment Bakugo was challenging him to a fight and half my class was taking bets."
"A fight? We can't allow that."
"I'm aware. But..." Hayashi rubbed his temples. "The boy—Takumi—he's not your typical transfer student. There's something about him that suggests he can handle himself. And honestly, Bakugo might need to learn that he's not the only talented student in the world."
"Still, we have a responsibility—"
"I'll keep an eye on the situation," Hayashi assured her. "But I suspect this is going to resolve itself one way or another, with or without our intervention."
---
Hospital – Dr. Akira’s POV
"Dr. Takumi!"
Akira looked up from the patient chart she was reviewing, pen paused mid-note. The voice belonged to Dr. Emi Matsuda, who was striding down the corridor with a brightness in her step that had nothing to do with cardiac cases or daily schedules.
Akira straightened, closing the folder in her hand. “Matsuda-san. You’re... cheerful today.”
"I just heard the most incredible news!" Dr. Matsuda said, beaming as she stopped beside her. "About your son—I can't believe you didn't tell us!"
Akira blinked, momentarily puzzled. “My son?”
“Rei!” Matsuda gushed. “The boy from the villain incident! My daughter showed me the clip last night—when they said his name, that he'd been reunited with his family, I nearly dropped my tea. Akira, why didn’t you say anything?”
“Oh,” Akira said softly. That familiar tightness bloomed in her chest again. Grief and joy. Fear and disbelief. Still him. But not. And yet... so clearly, yes.
“It must be surreal,” Matsuda continued, eyes brimming. “After all those years, to just... find him again.”
“It is,” Akira admitted. “Overwhelming, in the best and strangest way.”
“I can’t imagine,” Matsuda said, her tone sobering.
"When my Yuki was just two hours late coming home from school last week, I was ready to call the police. Ten years..." Dr. Matsuda shook her head. "You're so strong, Akira. I don't know how you managed."
'One day at a time,' Akira thought. 'One shift at a time. One surgery at a time. Keep busy, keep moving, don't think too hard about the empty bedroom or the birthday cards you buy but never send.'
"You just do what you have to do," she said instead. After reuniting with her son, she had seen the broadcast too.
Watched it, his heroic actions, more times than she could count.
Her hand tightened slightly on the folder she held. She hadn't slept that night—she’d just sat on the living room couch, the broadcast replaying over and over. Her son, ten years older, impossibly tall, impossibly composed. Wielding a black weapon conjured from his palm. Standing between a villain and danger like he’d done it a hundred times.
So calm. So unlike the little boy she remembered...
"I heard he's starting school again? That must be quite an adjustment."
"His first day is today, actually." Akira glanced at her watch. "He should be in class right now."
"How exciting! Is he nervous?"
Akira thought about the confident way Rei had adjusted his tie that morning, the easy smile he'd given her when she'd fussed over his lunch, the complete lack of anxiety he'd shown about walking into a classroom full of strangers.
"I don't think nervous is the right word," she said with a small smile. "He's... adaptable."
"Well, if he can handle villains, I'm sure he can handle high school students."
Akira didn’t respond. She turned slightly and looked at the file in her hand. The patient’s name was Kurogane. Male. Age 42. Pre-op for a spinal procedure. Minor anomaly on the initial bloodwork that hadn’t shown on imaging.
With a slow breath, Akira allowed herself to activate her Quirk.
Her irises shimmered, glowing a dim crimson hue, subtle but unmistakable for anyone paying close attention. Her pupils constricted, and the world... shifted.
Information unfurled in clean overlays across her vision—pulse rate, hemoglobin density, elevated bilirubin, minor platelet deficiency. She blinked once, shifting focus. Microfractures on the L4 vertebrae. Unlisted allergy to lidocaine. Previous injury to the femur sustained at age twenty-two. A web of biometric data flooded her mind, sorting itself into crisp mental categories.
She didn’t write any of it down.
She didn’t need to.
Her photographic memory, triggered alongside her Quirk, would retain every line of it. She could recall the file years from now down to the pressure signature of the man’s last blood pressure cuff reading.
She took one more moment to sweep the visual overlay, confirmed what she needed, and deactivated the ability. Her eyes returned to their usual warm brown. The hallway lights seemed slightly dimmer now—colors less vivid, the world a little duller.
“Dr. Takumi?”
Matsuda’s voice pulled her back. Akira realized she’d gone still.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, folding the file shut. “Was finishing up my read.”
“I swear, your insight during pre-ops is superhuman,” Matsuda said, laughing. “You spot things our machines miss.”
Akira smiled faintly. “That’s just my Quirk doing what it’s designed to do.”
She didn’t explain further.
There was a reason few people knew exactly how her power worked. In medical school, it had been praised. In real-world settings, it made people... uneasy. As if being able to see through someone—to detect lies in their medical history or shame in their lifestyle—True to the rumors, she could. See a person's body count, drug history, she could tell if a child was the actual offspring of the father with a single look.
Many women refused to see her because of it.
Called it invasive. Called for her Quirk to be banned from being used. Many more had told her to go into another line of industry.
One even she admitted she would be much more successful in.
But for her, it had always been a gift. Not for judgment. For healing.
And now… maybe it was more than that. Earlier today, she had noticed something in Ken he probably didn't know about yet in the pictures she took.
It was strange really.
Had it been the lighting? A camera effect? Or could he have —?
“Dr. Takumi, OR 3 is ready,” a nurse called from down the corridor.
“I’m coming,” Akira replied, pulling herself together. She gave Matsuda a final nod. “Thank you, Matsuda-san.”
“For what?”
“For reminding me that... this is real. That he’s ... home.”
She smiled, then turned to fulfill her obligations. All the while her mind carrying thoughts of seeing her beloved son once he came home from his first day of school.
'He'll probably be surprised to see me home so early.'
The mundane thought of his surprised face almost made her giggle. She had already requested for Early Leave for the rest of the month so she could always be home early before Ken was.
After devoting herself to numbing work for ten years and finally finding him again, The administrator was more than happy to grant her leave. Perhaps extending it even more.
No one would object, much less for such a valued employee.
Just enough for her to make up for lost time. If not for fear of overwhelming him, she would have taken a full twelve week leave from work.
Proper Integration was needed if she wanted him to genuinely feel at home. Even if he didn't remember, it didn't matter.
She was grateful for the Miracle that was his return, and she was going to make the best of it.
'My little Rei. I wonder what he's doing right now.'
___
## 3:30 PM – Final Bell
The bell rang sharp and metallic, signaling the end of the school day. But instead of backpacks slamming shut and chairs scraping across the floor in a mad dash for freedom, Class 3-B remained in place—buzzing with anticipation.
Mr. Hayashi stepped to the front of the room, clapping his hands once to get their attention. His tie was crooked, and his energy betrayed the kind of teacher who was definitely counting down the hours to retirement—but even he looked mildly amused by the classroom’s mood.
“Alright, alright. Settle down, you gremlins,” he said. “Before any of you run off to try and kill each other behind the gym... I have an announcement.”
That got a few laughs. A couple of glances flicked toward Bakugo, who pretended not to notice, arms folded and jaw tight.
“The trip is still on tomorrow,” Hayashi continued. “Barring any earthquakes, typhoons, or alien invasions, we’ll be heading to the Musutafu Nature Conservation and Disaster Response Park at 8:00 AM sharp. That means—” he raised a finger—“you arrive here at school by 7:30. No exceptions. If you’re late, we leave without you and you can explain to the principal why you missed a full-day educational event.”
A chorus of groans followed, mostly from the back.
Hayashi smirked. “You’ll be split into groups, and there’ll be lectures on ecological preservation, disaster recovery, and how trained heroes support rescue operations. You might even get to see a live demonstration from the city’s response team if they’re not busy with, I don’t know, another slime monster incident.”
That got a few snickers.
His eyes scanned the room. “Dress comfortably. Bring lunch. Leave your illegal support gear at home. And no, Bakugo, ‘thermal gloves’ don’t count as sunscreen.”
Laughter. Even Ken allowed a small smile.
Hayashi’s tone softened just slightly. “Some of you think it’s a waste of time, but take it seriously. If you ever plan on joining a hero course—especially somewhere like U.A.—you’ll need to understand the basics of rescue and damage control.”
His gaze flicked—just for a second—toward Ken.
"And yes. That includes people who already think they're tough guys."
Ken blinked. Was that directed at him or Bakugo? Hard to tell.
The teacher straightened. “Dismissed.”
Chairs scraped. Bags zipped. Conversations restarted like someone had hit play again on a paused video.
Within seconds, the hallways were buzzing with an energy that had nothing to do with typical end-of-school relief. Students who normally would have bolted for the exits were instead clustering in groups, whispering excitedly and glancing toward Class 3-B.
"Is it really happening?"
"Behind the gym, right?"
"My money's still on Bakugo. Home field advantage."
"Are you kidding? The new guy has faced a villain. Bakugo couldn't do anything. Or so I hear?"
"It's just quirk restraint. A lot of pro heroes were there as well and couldn't do anything either. Does that mean he'll stomp pro heroes as well?"
"Yeah. That was different case scenario."
"My bet's still on the new kid."
Word had spread far beyond just the third-years. Even some second and first-year students were lingering, phones ready, clearly planning to witness what could be the most interesting fight in Aldera Junior High's recent history.
## Ken's POV - Packing Up
I took my time organizing my notebooks and pens, letting the initial rush of excitement die down. No point in seeming eager—this was Bakugo's show, after all. He was the one who needed to prove something.
"Ken-kun," Midoriya's voice was quiet as he approached my desk. "Are you sure about this?"
I looked up at him. The concern in his green eyes was genuine, which was... oddly touching. When was the last time someone had worried about me getting hurt? Oh. This morning.
I had a mother now.
"Worried about me, Deku?"
"I'm worried about both of you," he said honestly. "Kacchan... when he gets like this, he doesn't hold back. And you..." He paused, struggling with his words. "I don't know what you're capable of."
That was fair. Neither did most people.
"I'll be fine," I assured him, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Though I appreciate the concern."
"Just... If you can beat him .. try not to hurt him too badly, okay? He's not as invincible as he thinks he is."
I studied Midoriya's face for a moment. Even after years of bullying, he was still worried about Bakugo's wellbeing. That was either incredibly noble or incredibly stupid.
Probably both.
"I'll keep that in mind."
Comments
Radiant Tiefling
Thank you for the chapter.
