The massive aircraft descended slowly through the evening sky, its engines roaring across U.A.'s rooftop landing zone. Wind whipped across the platform as the hatch opened and Class 1-A finally stepped back onto familiar ground.
Tired.
Bruised.
Bandaged.
Victorious.
The moment their feet touched the rooftop, a collective sense of relief settled over them.
Even Bakugo looked only mildly homicidal.
All Might stood near the edge of the platform, one hand raised high as the departing aircraft began lifting away once more.
"FAREWELL, DAVID!"
Even weakened, his voice thundered across the skyline.
From the aircraft doorway, David Shield laughed tiredly and waved back while Melissa enthusiastically leaned over the railing.
"BYE, EVERYONE!"
"Come visit again!" Ochaco shouted.
"Preferably during less terrorism!" Jirou added dryly.
The aircraft finally disappeared into the clouds.
Silence lingered briefly.
Then All Might turned back toward the students with his usual massive grin.
"Well then, young heroes! You've all endured quite the extraordinary experience!"
A collective groan escaped half the class.
"Understatement," Kaminari muttered.
All Might laughed loudly.
"Fortunately, Principal Nezu informed me that classes are suspended for tomorrow! So use tonight to recover properly and return the next day prepared for learning!
That statement alone nearly killed several exhausted students.
"A DAY OFF!" Mina cried joyfully.
"PRAISE MODERN EDUCATION!" Kaminari added.
Iida, despite still being heavily bandaged and using support braces for his ruined legs, straightened immediately.
"A scheduled recovery period is indeed a logical decision—"
"You almost died," Jirou interrupted.
Iida paused.
"…A very logical decision."
Nearby, Bakugo clicked his tongue.
"Tch. Weak."
"You got carried bridal-style by All Might," Kirishima reminded him.
Bakugo's glare alone nearly reignited the conflict.
Thankfully, Class 1-A had mastered the art of ignoring explosions.
The campus slowly emptied as students reunited with friends, families, and dorm groups.
Voices echoed across the courtyard:
Mina loudly recounts explosions with increasingly fake details.
Sero insists he contributed "critical support."
Tokoyami is trying to escape social interaction and failing.
Shoji was silently helping carry half the luggage.
Momo apologizes to the recovery staff for creating too many emergency supplies.
Todoroki is casually eating cold soba from a thermos while walking home.
It was peaceful.
Normal.
Or at least whatever counted as normal for U.A.
Yet one person was missing from the usual crowd.
Kurokami Tenshin.
The loudest student in Class 1-A had quietly disappeared before anyone noticed.
No grand farewell.
No ridiculous speech.
No complaints about not getting enough fights.
Just gone.
Far from the bright lights of U.A., Kuro walked alone through older streets buried beneath the glow of the modern city.
The further he walked, the rougher the surroundings became.
Eventually—
He stopped.
Before him stood an old dojo.
Or rather, what remained of one.
The wooden sign above the entrance was cracked and weathered. Paint peeled from the walls. Sections of the roof sagged visibly from age and neglect.
The street around it wasn't much better.
"...I've been slacking on care, sorry about that." Tired, dry and far from his usual eternal cheer.
A forgotten place.
Quiet.
Kuro stared at it silently.
Then—
His mind drifted backward.
...
Years Ago;
Back then, it hadn't looked like this.
The building had been worn even then, but alive.
The courtyard had flowers.
The wooden floors had polish.
The air carried warmth instead of dust.
A much younger Kurokami stood near the entrance, small hands clenched tightly at his sides.
Vacant eyes.
Empty.
A child is trying very hard not to feel anything anymore.
Beside him stood a man nearly identical in appearance.
Tall.
Sharp-eyed.
Long black hair tied loosely behind his back.
Where Kuro burned with loud energy, this man carried something calmer.
Controlled.
Dangerously quiet.
He rested one hand atop the boy's head.
"Kuro… from now on, this'll be our home."
Young Kuro stared silently at the house.
No response.
No excitement.
Nothing.
The man watched him carefully for a moment before speaking again.
"Are you still thinking about them?"
The question pierced deeper than expected.
Kuro's shoulders tensed immediately.
"N-no, Uncle. I'm fine."
The lie came too fast.
Too practiced.
The man chuckled softly.
"Just call me Turles."
He began walking toward the courtyard entrance, hands tucked loosely into his pockets.
"You're way too stiff, Kuro."
Young Kuro hesitated before following behind him.
"Formality doesn't suit you, kid."
The house creaked softly in the wind as they entered together.
And for the first time since losing everything—
Kurokami Tenshin stepped into a place that might someday become home.
[Auther: Gosh, this gets tiring, man...Glad I got premium Grammarly. Anyways, see ya.
Turles:
]