The World Reacts
The world had seen its share of disasters, quirks gone wrong, and even hero-caused destruction. But this was something different — something that didn't fit in any of their categories.
At dawn, satellite feeds across the globe replayed the same twenty-second footage — a blinding flash near Japan's coastline, waves disturbed but no explosion, no smoke, no debris. Just light. Then darkness.
The governments called it a "localized atmospheric disturbance."The people called it a miracle.And the heroes — they called it a problem.
Inside a high-security facility in Tokyo, representatives from Japan's Hero Commission were in tense discussion with foreign agencies. Holographic feeds from the U.S., France, and China flickered across the conference room.
A calm, clipped voice came from the American side.
"Our readings confirm no radiation, no atmospheric contamination. But… the object was tracked entering from low orbit. No known trajectory. It wasn't a meteor."
From France, another voice chimed in:
"And yet, it moves with deliberate control. It chose to land there. You don't get that from random space debris."
The Japanese chairman folded his hands.
"Then what you're suggesting is… intentional entry?"
"We're saying," the American replied, "whatever that thing is, it knew what it was doing."
The room fell silent.
Across the wall of screens, live feeds showed coast guards circling the restricted zone off Musutafu's coast. The water shimmered faintly — just beneath the surface, as though the sea itself reflected a hidden light.
And below it all, the being known as Ikaris was gone — no trace on radar, sonar, or satellite.
U.A. Command
In U.A.'s control center, Principal Nezu sat with a cup of tea that had long gone cold. His sharp eyes stayed on the monitor, reflecting a soft blue hue from the undersea imaging drones.
Beside him, All Might stood in silence — not in his golden form, but in his thinner, more human one. The gravity of the situation demanded quiet over showmanship.
"So," All Might finally said, breaking the silence. "No radiation. No explosion. Just… energy displacement?"
"Correct," Nezu said, setting the cup down. "But not energy we can classify. It doesn't match any quirk phenomenon or chemical reaction. Not even electromagnetic anomalies behave like this."
Aizawa crossed his arms, leaning against the console.
"You're saying it's not a quirk, not tech, not natural… so what is it?"
Nezu's tail flicked once, slowly.
"Something older, perhaps. Or something that doesn't belong here."
All Might frowned.
"You think this is… alien?"
"I think," Nezu replied, "it's best we don't assume. But it doesn't feel random. That thing didn't crash — it arrived."
Hero Command – Impact Zone
At the crash perimeter, Endeavor's team had established a mobile command post. Floodlights cut through the morning mist, illuminating floating barriers across the tide.
Endeavor stood at the edge of the dock, steam rising from his shoulders in the cold air. Hawks landed beside him, folding his wings with a flick.
"No fragments, no scorch marks, no craters," Hawks reported. "The sonar shows a hollow space under the water — roughly the size of a small stadium."
Edgeshot appeared beside them, silent as air, holding a tablet linked to the submersible drones.
"Depth: 300 meters. There's a light source under the seabed itself."
Endeavor narrowed his eyes.
"A light source?"
"Yes. But it's not constant — it pulses, like… breathing."
That word hung heavy in the air.
Hawks looked toward the ocean. "You ever feel like we're out of our league, Flame Dad?"
"We deal with quirks, villains, gods-in-training," Endeavor grunted. "Nothing's out of our league. We just haven't hit it hard enough yet."
But his words lacked conviction.
Behind them, Best Jeanist was reviewing the remaining drone feed — the last seconds before Ikaris vanished. A single frame caught his attention: a figure, still and upright, submerged beneath a veil of refracted light, eyes faintly open. Then — distortion, static, gone.
Jeanist's fingers tightened around the tablet.
"He didn't sink. He moved."
"Meaning?" Hawks asked.
"Meaning he left on purpose."
Intercontinental Briefs
In Washington, a S.H.I.E.L.D.-equivalent agency known as G.A.I.N. (Global Anomaly Investigation Network) issued a limited alert to Japan's Hero Commission:'Maintain observation. Do not engage. The entity appears non-aggressive but unpredictable.'
In Beijing, their analysts confirmed the same energy spike — except it resonated for a full minute before disappearing. Their top physicist whispered to her superior:
"Sir… that resonance matches no human-made frequency. It's… self-stabilizing."
In Paris, a scientist from the European Quirk Science Division stared at her holographic display.
"Look at this. Every few hours, global magnetic readings dip for half a second. Like it's breathing."
And in Musutafu, the waves rolled quietly as if mocking all their instruments.
U.A. Discussion
Later that night, Nezu called a secure meeting with the hero faculty.
Power Loader, Cementoss, Midnight, Aizawa, and All Might sat around the projection table as the feed displayed the analysis reports.
"If it isn't a quirk," Cementoss said, "then we're facing something beyond our jurisdiction. This should go to international control."
"It already has," Nezu replied. "But they're as lost as we are."
Power Loader leaned forward.
"Could it be some kind of ancient technology? Buried deep, triggered by environmental change?"
Nezu nodded thoughtfully.
"An interesting theory. Though I'm beginning to wonder…" He paused. "Do we know for certain when the human quirk phenomenon began?"
The room fell silent.
All Might spoke softly.
"Roughly two hundred years ago. But… you're suggesting…"
Nezu's smile was faint, unreadable.
"Suppose quirks weren't evolution at all. Suppose they were… influence."
The weight of his words filled the room like a silent explosion.
"You mean something — or someone — caused quirks?" Midnight whispered.
Nezu didn't answer directly.
"Our history is filled with missing links. Sudden leaps in biology, intelligence, adaptation. Science calls it evolution. But perhaps… we were nudged."
Aizawa looked unimpressed but intrigued.
"You're saying that… thing underwater has something to do with that?"
"I'm saying," Nezu replied, "it might be studying us for a reason."
Hero Investigation Continues
Two days later, Endeavor's team deployed specialized undersea drones designed to withstand extreme pressure and electromagnetic fields.
The feed came through crystal clear — until it didn't.
The first drone captured shifting light patterns on the seabed, swirling like auroras trapped underwater. As it approached, something massive passed across its lens — not solid, but dense enough to bend light around it.
Then — black.
The second drone followed. It recorded three seconds of sound: a rhythmic pulse.Then, a shadow moved.
Endeavor clenched his fists.
"This isn't natural. It's reacting to us."
"Or observing us," Hawks muttered.
Jeanist added, "Every time we send something near, it changes its pulse pattern. It's intelligent."
Edgeshot's eyes narrowed.
"Then what does it want?"
No one answered.
Night – U.A. Dorms
Meanwhile, in U.A., the students stayed mostly unaware of the true scale of events. Rumors circulated — "a comet," "a villain base," "government cover-up."
Izuku, however, sat by the common room window, notebook open, scribbling hypotheses.
"If it's not a quirk, then it's something pre-quirk… but that means it predates human quirk history itself. Could this thing have been here before? Watching?"
He looked out at the faint reflection of the sea on the news display. "Why now?" he murmured. "Why appear now?"
Uraraka passed by, hearing him mumble.
"Still thinking about that sky thing?"
"Yeah," he admitted softly. "I can't shake the feeling that it's… watching us."
"That's creepy, Deku."
"Yeah," he said with a faint smile. "I know."
The Vanishing
Two more days passed. Then, without warning, every detection system monitoring the anomaly went silent.
Satellites recorded one final burst of light under the surface — a brilliant white surge that illuminated the entire coast for a fraction of a second.
The ocean went still.
No heat, no radiation, no wreckage — and the undersea light was gone.
Endeavor's team watched in disbelief as readings flatlined across all instruments.
"Did it explode?" Hawks asked.
"No trace," Jeanist said, scanning his monitor. "No debris. It just… vanished."
Nezu received the transmission minutes later.
He stared at the report, his expression unreadable.
"It disappeared on its own terms," he murmured. "As if it was never here."
All Might looked at him, grim.
"So it came, watched, and left?"
"Perhaps," Nezu said softly. "Or perhaps… it learned what it needed."
The sea shimmered faintly under the moonlight.
And somewhere, deep in the vast quiet of the ocean's dark heart, something stirred — not alive, not dead, but aware.
Watching.
Waiting.
For humanity to make its next move.