Through Japan, millions of citizens stopped whatever they were doing and gave their full attention to the news channel.
Only now did the vast majority of them realise that in this time of National Crisis, U.A truly did hold the highest collection of famous abled heroes.
Be it Eraserhead who was capable of Erasing quirks, King Vlad The Blood Hero, Cementoss or Midnight .. .. all except the first were Pro Heroes who had once been famous before stepping out of the public eye into teaching. The fact that they were teachers at the most prestigious school in the country alone meant the teachers of U.A were at a higher caliber than random Pros elsewhere.
In the conference room, the tension had reached a suffocating point. Nezu didn't answer immediately.
For the first time since the conference began, the room felt like it was tilting ... not from chaos, but from the weight of expectation as Thirty-one journalists leaned forward eagerly awaiting a reply.
Cameras zoomed in. Nezu folded his paws, then smiled.
"An excellent question, Kizuki-san." He paused.
"But a fundamentally flawed premise." He said much to the surprise of everyone listening.
"UA High School does not 'house assets.' We educate students. We employ teachers. We do not deploy weapons." His gaze swept the room.
"However…" he continued, voice softening just slightly, "we are not blind to the current state of the nation."
A screen behind them flickered on. Images:
Burning districts. Injured heroes. Evacuation zones
"The Hero Public Safety Commission is currently… dealing with damage. Pro Hero agencies are operating under emergency autonomy. The National Police Agency has issued multiple containment directives."
"In such a climate, the idea that UA would remain completely isolated is… unrealistic."
Murmurs spread instantly.
"So let me be clear. UA faculty are licensed Pro Heroes. As such, they retain full legal authority to respond to incidents under national emergency protocols."
A reporter shot up. "So you ARE deploying them?"
Nezu's smile didn't change. "No. They are simply choosing to act." He made the distinction very clear.
"We will not 'release' our staff," Nezu continued. "Because they are not confined. They are professionals. They will make decisions based on necessity, jurisdiction, and the preservation of life. That is why they are qualified heroes after all."
"Do please refrain from treating UA High School as a military installation or a hero agency. A distinction that matters legally, operationally, and ethically. The suggestion that UA should unilaterally deploy its staff into active operational roles without coordination with the relevant licensing authorities, the NPA, and whatever functional arm of the HPSC currently exists, is not a suggestion I can act on in a press conference. It is a suggestion that belongs in a room with the appropriate institutional parties."
"Which is a way of saying you're considering it," Kizuki said.
"It is a way of saying the appropriate process exists for a reason and I intend to follow it. Just as I have said, what I can tell you is that UA High School is aware of the situation facing Japan. We are aware of what the hero system lost last night. We are aware of what the public needs. And we are not indifferent to any of it." He looked at the room. "What we need to be is careful to avoid any further tragedies. Much less ones incurred on ourselves by ourselves due to rushing into things without proper preparation."
Kizuki sat down. "And the students?" someone pressed. Nezu's eyes sharpened in the man's direction. Not just him. Aizawa and King Vlad all looked in his direction with flares bordering on murderous intent.
Being stared at by three U.A staff, the reporter's aggressive front withered in an instant. "The students aren't formal heroes yet." Silence.
"Until then, they will continue their education and training under U.A's protection."
"Because if we abandon that principle… then we are no longer a school."
Nezu stood. "This concludes the briefing for today. We will provide updates as the investigation allows. Thank you."
_
[SHINJUKU – KABUKICHO DISTRICT – 17:38 PM]
In Hotta's bar, the silence that followed the screen's transition back to the NHK news desk was heavy with resentment.
The nursing scrubs woman set down her glass. "Careful," she said. "The whole country is on fire and the best he can give us is careful."
"He said they're not indifferent," someone offered a different perspective. "That's something."
"Being not indifferent is the lowest possible bar."
"He has a point though. U.A can't just send teachers into the field. There are rules about that."
"What more rules are there to it?" The university student spat. "It's obvious they care more about themselves. Didn't you hear the words he used? Appropriate care. Meanwhile the rest of us are being told to stay indoors because the police can't guarantee our safety."
"Don't sound like that young man." The older man from Kamino ward had not changed his posture since the conference began. "Regardless of how you feel, the rat's not wrong."
He let out a heavy sigh, being a hero himself during his younger days. "You do something wrong in a crisis, you make the crisis worse." He looked at his glass.
"My building's rubble. I'd rather they be careful and fix it than be reckless and make more rubble."
"Meh .. we'll die before they fix any of this." The nursing scrub woman shook her head. "Logically, they should at least do something to help."
"There are other heroes out there fighting for their lives. It doesn't really seem fair, does it?"
Hotta didn't say a word. He just turned off the television and wiped off the bar. No one said much after that. Outside, Kabukicho was quieter than it had any right to be on an early evening.
With the curfew imposed on many cities, people could only stay in their homes and ponder upon what they had just watched.
Most thought it was reasonable. Most questioned why it had to be this way. Not long after, the dissatisfaction arrived in waves. The first wave was the hot take. 'UA protecting its own while Japan burns, typical' arriving within minutes of the feed cutting.
The second wave was more specific. Screenshots of Nezu's answer. The word 'careful' isolated and repeated. 'This is what UA considers a response to a national crisis. Careful.'
The third wave was the counter. People pointing out that Nezu had said nothing wrong, that unilateral deployment without institutional coordination was genuinely dangerous, that the journalist had been asking UA to do something that was actually the government's job. Then came the general public question that festered beneath all of it. 'All Might is done. So who is going to protect us.' The post went viral.
Within minutes, it fractured into thousands of smaller conversations. Each louder and more desperate than the last. Some clung to logic. Some clung to anger. And some… simply clung to fear.
__
[ONLINE – JAPAN WIDE – LIVE FEED]
#WhoProtectsUs trended within twelve minutes.
@CivicWatch_JP:
So the answer is "wait." We wait while villains organize and heroes recover so the systems can be rebuilt? Can someone tell me what happens in the meantime?
#WhoProtectsUs
@LegalLens:
Nezu is correct. You cannot deploy independent actors without coordination in a crisis of this scale. That leads to friendly fire, jurisdictional collapse, and more deaths. People asking for "just send them out" don't understand disaster management.
@AngrySalaryman77:
I don't care about "jurisdiction." I care about getting home alive.
@HeroAnalysisNet:
Key takeaway: UA is positioning itself as a stabilizing institution, not an emergency response unit. This is a long-term strategy.
The public wants short-term safety.
@KaminoSurvivor:
They're all arguing like this is theory.
My house is gone. I don't have time for "careful."
@FutureHeroHopeful:
If UA sends students out now, they're dead.
If they don't train them, we're dead later.
Pick your poison.
The replies spiraled. Overtime, thousands of discussions spread with no general consensus formed. Only pressure.
Meanwhile, in Tokyo Central General Hospital
The flickering light of the television in the corner of the room cast long, skeletal shadows across the white linens. The news cycle had moved on from the press conference to a montage of All Might's greatest hits. High-definition clips of him laughing while carrying ten people at once, a cruel contrast to the man lying in the bed.
Behind him, the door slid open with a soft hiss.
"You're going to burn a hole through that screen if you keep staring at it like that." It was an old voice he was all too familiar with.
Toshinori didn't look away. "Ah… you've returned."
Recovery Girl stepped in, cane tapping lightly against the floor. She carried a clipboard under one arm, glasses perched low on her nose. "I've finished with Hakamada," she said. "He'll live."
She paused. "He won't be working for a long time, but he'll live."
Toshinori closed his eyes. "That is… good news."
"Mm." She moved closer, glancing at his monitors before adjusting a line. "You should be focusing on your own recovery, not national broadcasts."
"I find it difficult,"
"That's because you're stubborn."
"That too." All Might coughed while looking at the replay of the conference. Recovery girl watched with him. "Hmm, well the media sure are restless." The old lady uttered before turning away. "Nezu looks tired today .. Even for him."
"It's that bad, isn't it?"
"Of course it is. That woman, knew exactly where to poke. I doubt that public opinion is going to be positive after their replies."
Toshinori looked toward the window, where the sun was setting over a skyline that felt jagged and broken. "Perhaps but they are scared and frankly ... Have every right to be. The future is uncertain, Chiyo-san."
"And you're worried,"
"I'm terrified," he whispered. "I left too early, and under the worst possible circumstances. It ... It's just as I initially feared. No one is there to hold up the symbol with me gone."
It was just as Nighteye said it would happen back then. Unfortunately, he had wanted it to be at a better time to avoid all of this, yet somehow ... It remained unavoidable.
"Now I think of Young Midoriya... and I see a boy with a heart the size of the ocean, but he's still a boy. I spent so much time elsewhere that I forgot to devote myself to preparing him. I thought the 'Yamanote incident' was a tragedy we would move past, not the opening act of a war."
Recovery Girl reached out, her small, wrinkled hand patting his arm. "You did what you could, Toshinori. You gave them a long summer. It's not your fault the winter came early, so don't listen to what anyone else says."
He didn't respond to that, a single question playing within his mind. 'If I had retired six years ago like he said I should .. Would things have been different?'
"Maybe," he said, his voice gaining a sliver of resolve. "But I'm not done. I can't be."
He looked up, hand raised to eye level before clenching into a fist. "If I can't be the Symbol, I'll devote the rest of my time to grooming Midoriya. No more distractions. No more divided focus, and no more mistakes. Prepare him as best as I can for what's to come. It's the only thing I have left to give."
He let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. "At least... All For One is dead. That demon is finally, truly gone and he won't have to face that monster. Whatever else happens, as long as that's true, then there is still hope." This time, All For One was dead for sure.
The body was with the proper authorities to be hidden away and destroyed. There was no way All For One could pull off a second resurrection like he did before.
"Nighteye's future… has been averted." Just then, the door to the ICU suddenly swung open.
Both of them turned to see Tsukauchi at the door way, his coat rumpled, and expression somehow worse than before. "…Toshi."
Toshinori's brow furrowed slightly. "Naomasa?"
Tsukauchi stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
In his hand was a phone slowly being lowered from his ear. "…I just got off with the retrieval team."
His words caught their full attention. "…What is it?"
Tsukauchi hesitated for a moment, then let out a long sigh "…All For One's body… …has been taken."