Bakugo had only been at U.A. High for a week when he made his first reckless move — challenging All Might himself to a sparring match. No one was surprised. Confidence radiated from him like an explosion ready to ignite. But the moment the fight began, reality hit hard.

All Might barely broke a sweat. Bakugo gave it everything he had — the explosions, the aggression, the pride — but in the end, he lay on the ground, panting, bruised, and staring up at the Symbol of Peace with wide, shaken eyes. For the first time, he realized the vast, almost unreachable gulf between his strength and a true pro hero’s.

Everyone knew Bakugo would lose. They expected it. What no one expected was what happened next. All Might, still smiling despite the scratches on his arms, looked around the gathered students. His gaze landed on a quiet boy standing near the back of the crowd — the one who rarely spoke, who always seemed half-present, like his thoughts were somewhere darker.

“Midnight training is for everyone,” All Might boomed. “But how about you, young man? Care to give it a try?”

The boy blinked once, then stepped forward. His name was Kuroda. Most people only knew two things about him — he had some kind of “shadow quirk,” and he never caused trouble.

The match began quietly. For a moment, everyone thought it would be over quickly. Then the lights dimmed — not because anyone turned them off, but because the boy’s quirk swallowed them. From beneath his feet, shadows stretched and twisted, forming hands, tendrils, and monstrous silhouettes that clawed their way into existence. A wave of cold rolled through the arena. The air felt heavy — oppressive — like standing inside a nightmare.

“Shadow hands…?” someone whispered. “No — there’s more—!”

Shadow coffins erupted from the ground, slamming shut with deafening force. Tendrils lashed out like whips. And then, impossibly, the boy himself dissolved into darkness — his body becoming a moving silhouette, faceless and formless, eyes glowing faintly from within the void.

Even then, it was clear he was holding back. His movements were precise, measured — as though he knew that a single lapse in control could bring real harm.

All Might fought fiercely, pushing past the pain and confusion, his booming voice echoing through the shadows: “Splendid power, young man! But do not lose yourself to it!”

When the match finally ended, silence fell. The shadows vanished, slipping back into nothingness. The arena lights flickered back on, revealing All Might — bloodied, bruised, and grinning despite several cracked ribs.

The students stared in disbelief.

A first-year had just left the Symbol of Peace injured.