The city burned again.

Ash and embers fell like snow over the shattered skyline, the scent of smoke mingling with ozone. The battle against the League of Villains had raged for hours — explosions, shockwaves, and the cries of heroes echoing across the ruins of what was once downtown Musutafu.

Among the chaos, Class 1-A, now full-fledged Pro Heroes, stood together once more — bruised, battered, but unbroken.

Midoriya Izuku, now known as Deku, wiped blood from his cheek, panting as his quirk flickered across his battered form. The lightning of One For All danced faintly across his arms, unstable but determined.

“Everyone— hold your ground! They’re trying to surround us!”

Bakugo stood beside him, his costume scorched, one gauntlet cracked and leaking smoke.

“Tch— I don’t need you telling me that, Deku! I can handle a few wannabe villains myself!”

Despite his words, his eyes flicked toward the others — Uraraka, Kirishima, Todoroki, and Yaoyorozu, all coordinating with brutal efficiency.

Even after three years, the teamwork between them was unshakable — but something unspoken lingered among them. A hollow place. A name they still didn’t say aloud.

You.

The one they’d lost.

Three years ago, during a raid on an underground villain base, you’d vanished in a collapsing explosion that tore the district apart. No body was found. No trace. Just silence.

At first, they’d hoped you’d survived. Then they’d accepted you hadn’t.

But the way Aizawa still left your nameplate untouched in the dorm’s common room said otherwise.

Now, as the League’s new army surged forward, led by Dabi and Toga, hope itself seemed to flicker under the chaos.

Dabi stood atop the burning wreckage of a building, his mismatched eyes glinting beneath the glow of his own blue fire.

“Heroes, huh?” he said with a sharp grin. “Funny how the more things change, the more you all look like the ashes you swore to protect.”

Todoroki raised a hand, frost spiraling outward from his palm, extinguishing the nearest flames.

“Your fire’s weaker than last time, Dabi,” he said coldly. “You’re running out of fuel.”

“Heh,” Dabi chuckled. “Not fuel — patience.”

Then the ground shook.

A pulse of energy rippled through the air — something raw, something wrong.

The battlefield froze for an instant. Even the flames flickered as if startled.

Uraraka turned sharply.

“W-What was that?”

Midoriya felt it first — a strange, familiar hum, like the pulse of a quirk he’d felt before… long ago.

The smoke parted.

From beyond the dust and ruin, a figure stepped forward — slow, steady, and silent.

The League’s soldiers hesitated, unsure if it was ally or foe.

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed.

“Who the hell…?”

The figure moved closer, the flickering flames revealing torn hero gear — faintly recognizable beneath the scorch marks and wear.

The torn and worn out hero outfit blowing gently in the wind.