Chapter 24: Echoes of Ash
The morning air outside the towering gates of U.A. High School was thick with an annoying, chaotic energy.
A massive swarm of reporters, cameramen, and journalists had set up camp right at the entrance, forming a nearly impenetrable wall of flashing lenses and shoving microphones. The news of the villain invasion at the Unforeseen Simulation Joint had leaked to the press by dawn, sending shockwaves through the public. A facility belonging to the premier hero academy in the nation had been breached. The invincible aura surrounding the institution was suddenly in question, and the media was desperate for a story.
Sakazuki approached the gates with a slow, measured stride. Every step required a conscious effort to keep his torso straight. Beneath his standard school uniform, stiff medical braces hugged his ribs tightly, restricting his breathing to shallow, controlled intakes of air. A thick white bandage wrapped around his forehead, partially concealed by the brim of his signature white cap. He had left his usual heavy blazer at home; the fabric was too restrictive over his injured chest, so he wore only the dark uniform pants and the white dress shirt, leaving the top buttons undone.
As he neared the crowd, a particularly aggressive reporter with a long microphone shoved her way past the security droids and stepped directly into his path. She did not recognize him as the student who had engaged the main threat; to her, he was just another teenager in a U.A. uniform.
"You there! First-year student!" the reporter pressed, thrusting the microphone toward his face. "Were you at the training facility yesterday? Tell us, how do you feel about the security here? The villains bypassed the alarms and nearly killed your teachers. Do you still trust this school with your life?"
Sakazuki stopped. He did not flinch away from the camera, nor did he display the nervous hesitation the reporter likely expected from a high schooler. He fixed his dark, piercing gaze on the woman, his expression a mask of cold pragmatism.
"When the threat appeared..." Sakazuki answered, his deep voice cutting through the surrounding chatter with ease. "Our instructors bled on the front lines to ensure our survival. They did their duty. Therefore, my trust in their resolve remains firm."
Without waiting for a follow-up question, he stepped around the stunned reporter and continued his slow walk through the gates, ignoring the sudden flurry of camera shutters clicking in his wake.
The atmosphere inside the main building was a stark contrast to the loud circus outside. The hallways were unnaturally quiet. When Sakazuki finally reached the door to Class 1-A and slid it open, the usual morning noise was absent.
Several students sat at their desks, wrapped in a heavy, somber gloom. A few wore small bandages or medical patches—Jiro had a plaster on her cheek, and Kaminari's arm was wrapped in a mild compression sleeve. The physical injuries for the majority were minor, but the psychological toll of facing genuine, lethal malice was written plainly on their pale faces.
Sakazuki walked down the aisle toward his seat in the back. As he passed, he noticed a glaring absence in the room. Izuku Midoriya's desk was empty.
He took his seat, wincing internally as his bruised muscles protested the bending motion. He rested his hands on the wooden surface and let his gaze drift back to the empty chair where the green-haired boy usually sat. Midoriya had not been discharged from the hospital. The catastrophic damage he had inflicted upon his own legs to deliver that desperate, skull-crushing headbutt required extensive care. Sakazuki stared at the vacant desk for a long moment, a quiet, profound respect settling in his chest. The boy lacked control, but his instinct to act as a human shield was an undeniable display of true grit.
Near the front of the room, Mina Ashido rubbed her arms, her voice a fragile whisper. "I couldn't even move yesterday. When that dark mist surrounded us, my legs just froze. I felt so useless."
Momo Yaoyorozu looked down at her hands, her usual confidence replaced by a heavy frown. "We lacked the practical experience to process the threat. We were paralyzed by the sheer reality of the situation. It proved how painfully weak we currently are."
"Yeah," Kaminari muttered, leaning his head on his desk. "We were basically just baggage for the teachers to protect. If those villains had targeted us directly instead of Mr. Aizawa, we would have been wiped out."
Minoru Mineta shivered, clutching his own hair. He turned in his seat, his eyes landing on the tall teenager sitting quietly in the back. "Well, maybe we should exclude Sakazuki from the word weak. He actually fought that giant monster head-on."
The hushed conversations in the classroom ceased. Several pairs of eyes shifted toward Sakazuki. They looked at the thick bandages wrapping his head and the rigid posture he maintained to protect his fractured ribs. The intimidation he had projected on the first day was still there, but it was now mixed with a deep, silent awe. The student they had viewed as harsh and unapproachable had stood between them and certain death.
Tsuyu Asui pushed her chair back and walked over to his desk, followed closely by a hesitant Mineta.
"Sakazuki-chan," Tsuyu said, her large eyes carrying a genuine warmth. "We didn't get a chance to say it yesterday, but... thank you. For stepping in when that pale man attacked us."
Mineta nodded vigorously. "Yeah, man! You were amazing! You really saved our lives down there."
Sakazuki looked at his two classmates. He did not puff out his chest or accept the praise with heroic pride. His expression remained incredibly grounded.
"I didn't do much," Sakazuki replied, his voice blunt and devoid of ego. "Aizawa-sensei was the one who erased the villain's quirk when he reached you. If the teacher had not pushed himself to look up at that exact second, my intervention would have been too late."
Mineta frowned, confused by the dismissal. "But you fought that giant bird thing! We were so weak, but you held your ground. You aren't like us."
"I fell from a single strike from that thing," Sakazuki corrected, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he recalled the agonizing impact that had shattered his defenses. "I lacked the physical endurance to maintain the line. I feel ashamed as well. We all have a vast amount of progress to make."
A sudden, sharp scrape of metal against the floor echoed through the room.
Katsuki Bakugo stood up from his desk, his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ground together. He glared at Sakazuki, his red eyes burning with a volatile mix of frustration and bruised pride.
"The real shame is not being there when the actual fight happened," Bakugo growled, his voice trembling with suppressed anger. He had been relegated to fighting low-level thugs on the outskirts while others faced the true bosses. "You hogged all the glory again, you walking furnace. Don't sit there and act humble about it. Next time, I am going to be the one crushing the main target."
Sakazuki met the explosive boy's glare with calm indifference, but before he could offer a response, the classroom door slid open with a heavy thud.
The entire class gasped.
Standing in the doorway was their homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. He was covered from head to toe in thick, white medical bandages. Both of his arms were in slings, and his face was entirely wrapped, leaving only his dark, tired eyes visible. He looked like a mummy dragged out of a tomb.
"Sensei!" Iida shouted, jumping to his feet. "You are in no condition to be teaching! You should be in the hospital recovering!"
"My well-being is irrelevant," Aizawa mumbled, his voice muffled by the thick layers of gauze as he slowly shuffled to the podium. "Take your seats. The fight is not over yet."
The atmosphere in the room tensed immediately. Bakugo lowered his stance, while Ashido and Kaminari exchanged terrified glances, expecting another villain attack.
"U.A. High School's Sports Festival is approaching," Aizawa announced flatly.
A collective sigh of relief washed over the teenagers. It was just a normal school event. However, Jiro quickly raised her hand, her expression hesitant. "Is that really a good idea, sir? We just had a major villain infiltration. What if they attack again while everyone is gathered in one place?"
"Holding the festival is a deliberate message," Aizawa explained, his sharp gaze sweeping over the students. "It demonstrates that our crisis management is solid and that U.A. will not cower before criminal threats. The security will be five times tighter than previous years. You need to understand the magnitude of this event. Top heroes and agencies from across the country will be watching. This is your primary opportunity to be scouted."
In the back row, Sakazuki sat perfectly still. The pain in his ribs faded into the background.
His dark eyes focused intently on the bandaged teacher. The Sports Festival was not a mere athletic competition or a chance to show off for the cameras. It was the largest recruitment stage in Japan. It was a direct line to the most lucrative and powerful hero agencies in the country.
Sakazuki thought of the worn medical bills sitting in his desk drawer at home, and the dark circles under his mother's eyes. To secure the financial stability she desperately needed, he had to reach the top of the industry. He could not afford to be just another student in the background.
He had to dominate the festival. He had to show the world that a new, unbreakable pillar was rising from the ashes of the ruined training ground.