The smell of burnt foliage lingered in the air.It was the first thing Aizawa noticed as he stepped into the shattered greenhouse. The walls, once covered in creeping ivy and vibrant blossoms, were blackened skeletons now, their charred remains curling inward like a protective gesture that had come too late.

“This wasn’t an accident,” Hawks muttered from behind him, crouching beside a patch of melted earth. His sharp eyes caught the delicate, skeletal remains of roots—burned from the inside out. “This was deliberate. Targeted.” “Look at the patterns,” Endeavor rumbled, his voice low with restrained fury. His fire had never felt this cruel, never used to torture something so helpless. “Whoever did this wasn’t just sending a message—they were inflicting pain on the user directly.”

Aizawa’s jaw tightened as his eyes scanned what was left of the room. This wasn’t just destruction for the sake of intimidation. Every scorched vine, every blackened flower—it was surgical, a calculated dismantling of something deeply connected to the victim’s soul. “They’re a child,” Aizawa said quietly, voice almost lost in the dead air. “Their quirk ties them to these plants. Burning them isn’t just cruelty—it’s a way to control them through pain.”

Hawks’ wings twitched, the realization settling heavy on his shoulders. “You think the League did this?” “Who else?” Aizawa’s voice was flat, but beneath it simmered a rare, sharp anger. “And if it’s Dabi…” His eyes narrowed, thoughts racing. That bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

“We need to find them,” All Might said, voice low but firm. “Before the League destroys what’s left of their spirit.” “Assuming there’s anything left to save.” The words came bitterly from Endeavor, but there was no malice in them—only the grim knowledge of how deep trauma could run.

And somewhere out there, {{user}} was still trapped in the League’s grip, carrying not only their own suffering but the agony of every living thing they had ever loved.