(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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Hospital...
The hospital room felt quieter than the battlefield ever did.
Soft beeps from monitors.
Curtains swaying slightly with the air.
And three students—Alive.
On their beds, Izuku Midoriya, Tenya Iida, and Shoto Todoroki stared at their phones.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The class group chat was exploding.
"ARE YOU GUYS OKAY?!"
"WE SAW THE NEWS!"
"DID YOU FIGHT STAIN?!"
"MIDORIYA PICK UP YOUR PHONE!!"
"IIDA WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
"TODOROKI ANSWER OR I'M COMING THERE!!"
Midoriya smiled weakly looking at the messages on his mobile.
"…they're worried."
Iida adjusted his glasses slowly.
"…as they should be."
Todoroki glanced at his phone.
"…we'll reply later."
The door slid open.
In walked Gran Torino, followed by Manual.
And behind them—A man with a dog's head in a formal police uniform.
The Chief of Police. Kenji Tsuragamae.
The room instantly became serious.
The chief stepped forward.
"...."
Calm. Measured. But firm.
"I will keep this brief."
His sharp eyes moved across all three.
"You engaged a high-level criminal. Without authorization. Without supervision. And without regard for protocol."
Silence. Heavy.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Iida lowered his head immediately.
"…yes, sir."
Midoriya clenched his blanket slightly.
Todoroki remained still, listening.
The chief continued.
"Your actions… resulted in the successful capture of a dangerous criminal."
A pause.
"…however."
His tone hardened slightly.
"They were still violations."
He glanced at Manual and Gran Torino.
"As a result—The pro heroes supervising your internships …will have their hero activities suspended for three months."
The words hit hard.
Midoriya's eyes widened.
"…three months…?"
Todoroki frowned slightly.
Iida—Froze. Then slowly bowed his head deeply.
"...."
"…this is my fault."
His voice shook.
He turned toward Manual.
"I acted without permission. I ignored your orders. I endangered everyone. …I am truly sorry."
Manual looked at him for a moment.
Then sighed softly.
-Sigh!
"…yeah. You messed up."
Iida flinched slightly.
-Flinch!
"...."
"But—"
Manual placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You also saved lives."
His tone softened.
"Just… next time. Think before you act."
Iida nodded firmly at him.
-Nod!
"…yes, sir."
Gran Torino snorted.
"Brats."
Midoriya flinched hearing his voice.
"You jumped into a fight way above your level."
He leaned closer.
"…but you didn't run."
A small grin formed on his face and a wink.
-Grin!
"Could be worse."
Midoriya smiled weakly.
"…I'll take that."
The police chief adjusted his cap.
"This matter will be handled internally. Your involvement will not be made public. For your safety."
He turned to leave. Then paused.
"And students…"
They looked up.
"…do not mistake survival for success."
With that—He walked out.
Silence returned.
"...."
"...."
"...."
But lighter. Different.
Iida exhaled slowly.
"…I will not make that mistake again."
Midoriya nodded this time serious and clenching his fist.
-Nod!
"…we'll get stronger."
Todoroki added calmly.
"…and smarter."
Best Jeanist Hero Agency...
Inside the sleek, painfully well-organized agency of Best Jeanist—A certain explosive blonde was at war.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'ARE YOU OKAY'?!"
Katsuki Bakugo shouted at his phone like it had personally insulted his entire bloodline.
His screen was flooded with messages.
"Bakugo did you see the news?!"
"our classmates were in Hosu!"
"Midoriya fought Stain!!"
"ARE YOU NOT REPLYING ON PURPOSE?!"
Bakugo's eye twitched violently.
"I'LL REPLY WHEN I FEEL LIKE IT!"
He typed aggressively.
Then deleted it. Then typed again. Then deleted again.
"...."
"…DAMN IT!"
Behind him—A calm presence approached.
Slow. Graceful.
Terrifying in an entirely different way.
Best Jeanist adjusted his cuffs.
"…such hostility."
Bakugo didn't turn.
"STAY OUT OF THIS!"
Jeanist's eyes narrowed slightly.
"...."
"…your posture."
Bakugo froze hearing the voice.
"…what."
Before he could react—
-FWIP.
Threads of denim shot forward.
Wrapped around his head.
Pulled. Adjusted. Smoothed.
"STOP TOUCHING MY HAIR!"
Jeanist ignored him completely.
"You are about to go on patrol."
He circled Bakugo like an artist correcting a flawed sculpture.
"Your appearance must reflect dignity."
Bakugo growled in annoyance.
"I'M HERE TO FIGHT VILLAINS—"
Jeanist cut him off.
"And represent society."
He flicked his fingers.
Bakugo's jacket straightened.
His collar aligned perfectly.
Even his belt shifted slightly into place.
Bakugo clenched his fists.
Small explosions popped from his palms.
"I don't care about this crap!"
Jeanist looked at him with pure disappointment.
"That is precisely why you must learn it."
He stepped closer.
"You are powerful. But power without control… is merely noise."
Bakugo's eye twitched.
-Twitch!
"I'LL SHOW YOU NOISE—"
The threads tightened slightly.
"Language. …Tch."
Jeanist stepped back. Examining his work.
Bakugo stood there—Perfectly styled.
Hair adjusted. Clothes aligned.
Looking—Annoyingly presentable.
"…acceptable."
Bakugo looked like he was two seconds away from detonating the building.
"I hate this place."
He gestured outward.
"Come."
Bakugo stomped forward.
Muttering curses under his breath.
As they stepped outside into the streets of Hosu—Jeanist spoke one last time.
"Remember. A hero is seen before he is understood."
Bakugo scoffed turning his head.
"…I'll just blow up the understanding part."
Jeanist sighed looking at his attitude.
-Sigh!
"…this will take time."
Recovery & Quirk Rehabilitation Center...
Night settled quietly over the Recovery & Quirk Rehabilitation Center.
Unlike a prison, the place didn't echo with metal bars and shouting guards.
It was… controlled.
Silent. Clinical.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The Containment Room...
Deep inside a secured wing—A reinforced observation chamber stood sealed.
Transparent barrier. Energy restraints.
Monitoring systems humming softly.
At the center of it all sat Stain. Bound.
Not brutally—But completely.
Arms restrained. Movement limited.
Sensors attached across his body.
Heart rate. Brain activity. Stress response.
Every detail tracked.
Standing on the other side of the barrier was Jeremy.
Calm. Professional.
Eyes sharp behind thin glasses. He adjusted the tablet in his hand.
"...."
"Subject responsive. Vitals stable."
He tapped the screen. Lines of data scrolled rapidly.
"Beginning psychological evaluation."
Jeremy's voice remained neutral.
"No provocation. No judgment."
Just observation.
"State your name."
Stain remained silent for a moment.
Then—
"…I have no name worth using."
Jeremy didn't react.
"Then state your purpose."
Stain's eyes lifted slowly.
"…to purge false heroes."
Jeremy noted it on the hand book of his.
"Delusion structured around moral absolutism."
He tapped again.
"Next question.... Do you consider your actions justified?"
Stain didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
Jeremy tilted his head slightly.
"Even if innocent people are harmed?"
Stain's eyes sharpened.
"I do not harm the innocent. Only those who stain the title of hero."
Jeremy's pen paused for a second.
"…subject distinguishes targets through personal ideology. Rigid moral framework."
Jeremy changed angle.
"Do you feel guilt?"
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Then—
"No."
"Do you feel anger?"
"…yes."
"Toward whom?"
Stain's voice lowered.
"…a society that rewards frauds."
Jeremy observed the brainwave spikes.
"Elevated response when discussing societal structure. Core trigger identified."
Jeremy stepped closer to the glass.
"Do you believe change is possible without violence?"
A pause.
Longer this time.
"...."
Stain didn't answer immediately. His eyes shifted slightly. Thinking.
Then—
"No."
Jeremy wrote it down.
"Complete rejection of reform-based systems."
Jeremy stepped back. Reviewing the data.
Heart rate stable.
No erratic spikes. No fractured thought patterns. No hallucinations. No incoherence.
He spoke calmly.
"Subject is not mentally unstable. Fully aware. Highly consistent cognitive pattern."
He looked back at Stain.
"…this is not madness. …this is conviction."
Stain stared back through the barrier.
Unblinking. Unshaken.
"...."
"You're trying to fix me."
Jeremy didn't deny it.
"I'm trying to understand you."
Stain's lips curled slightly.
"…same thing."
Jeremy turned slightly, speaking into the recorder.
"Treatment approach will require—Cognitive redirection. Controlled exposure to alternate frameworks. Long-term engagement."
He paused.
"…high resistance expected."
Jeremy looked at Stain one last time with serious expression on his face.
"This isn't a prison. It's a chance."
Stain's eyes didn't soften. Didn't waver.
"…I don't need saving."
Jeremy gave a small nod.
-Nod
"…we'll see."
Monitoring Room...
Rudra stood with his arms crossed.
Still in partial Ra-One gear, the red cubes of his suit resting faintly along his shoulders like embers that refused to go out.
His eyes remained fixed on the screen replaying the evaluation.
Every answer. Every pause. Every shift in tone.
He didn't blink.
Didn't react. Just… observed.
The door behind him opened with a soft hiss.
Jeremy stepped in, removing his gloves with a tired exhale.
"…well."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"That was… something."
Rudra didn't turn.
"Report."
Jeremy walked up beside him, glancing at the screen.
"That man isn't insane."
He tapped the tablet once.
"Which honestly would've made this easier."
A dry sigh escaped from his mouth.
-Sigh!
"He's fully aware of what he's doing. His logic is structured. His beliefs are consistent. His responses are controlled."
Jeremy folded his arms.
"…he's not broken."
He paused.
"…he's convinced."
Rudra finally spoke.
"…fanatic."
Jeremy nodded immediately.
-Nod!
"Exactly. Not a psychopath. Not unstable. A fanatic with a moral framework."
He pointed toward the screen where Stain sat calmly.
"He doesn't see himself as a villain.He sees himself as necessary."
Jeremy leaned against the console.
"That's the worst kind to deal with. No cracks. No doubts. No guilt."
He let out a breath.
-Sigh!
"…you can't 'fix' someone like that the usual way."
Rudra finally turned his head slightly. His gaze shifted from the screen to Jeremy.
"…and your plan?"
Jeremy gave a small, humorless chuckle.
"Plan? …I don't have one yet."
He straightened.
"We'll try layered exposure. Introduce conflicting ideologies. Force cognitive dissonance. Break the certainty."
A pause.
"…slowly."
Then he added—
"…very slowly."
Rudra looked back at the screen.
At Stain.
Still sitting there. Still calm. Still unwavering.
"…and if he doesn't change?"
Jeremy didn't hesitate this time.
"Then he stays exactly what he is. A man who chose his path fully aware of it."
Rudra's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…he almost spoke."
Jeremy glanced at him.
"…yeah."
Rudra's voice lowered.
"If he had…"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
Jeremy understood immediately.
"…it would've spread."
Not just words. An idea. A justification. A spark.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N):
Guys My New Fic name is:
-->Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable
Check it out... I hope you will like it
Whats your thought's guys.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review!!! And power stone too!!!
Guys it will motivate me more?