Bridge Scene — "The Battle with Zerath (Continuation)"
The skyline of Shinjuku looked like a broken mirror—every reflection out of place.
Koku's lightning sputtered against Zerath's crimson aura as they faced each other across a crater.
Zerath spoke first, voice calm behind the mask.
"One For All and time distortion in the same vessel… I wanted to see it with my own eyes."
Koku's answer came with a sharp breath. "Then you've seen enough."
He vanished. The world slowed—streets frozen mid-collapse, glass hanging like stars. Within that silence he struck, One For All surging through Chrono Breaker's halted seconds.
His fist connected—then pain exploded through his arm; Zerath had caught it.
"Five seconds of frozen time," Zerath murmured. "Impressive. But still bound by the clock."
Energy pulsed. Koku flew backward, skidding through the debris. His body screamed, the dual quirks fighting for dominance.
Not now… stay together, he thought.
A shadow of Midoriya's voice echoed inside him:
When the power feels like it'll tear you apart—guide it forward, not inward.
Koku planted his feet, forced both streams of energy into a single heartbeat.
Lightning and time folded into one golden-white flash. He dashed again—faster, steadier. The next punch shattered Zerath's shoulder plate and sent the commander sliding back.
For the first time, Zerath smiled under the mask.
"Good. The singularity is maturing."
He raised a hand; the rift above began to shrink.
"You're not ready yet. When you are, find me beyond the final clock tower."
With that, his form dissolved into motes of red light, and the remaining drones collapsed lifeless around them.
Koku fell to one knee, chest heaving. Aina and Rex reached him as the rift sealed and the sky turned gray.
Rex shouted over the wind, "You won, right?"
Koku looked at the spot where Zerath had vanished.
"…No. He let me live."
The air shivered with leftover thunder.
Shinjuku lay half-collapsed, a skeleton of concrete and light. The Chrono Rift had finally sealed, leaving only blue sparks drifting like fireflies. In their glow, Koku knelt among the wreckage, his breathing ragged. Smoke curled from the cracks in his gloves.
Aina hurried to him, her boots crunching glass. "Koku! Stop using both quirks at once! You're tearing yourself apart!"
He didn't answer. His pupils glowed faint green as voices echoed inside his skull—soft, layered, and familiar.
"Focus on saving one life at a time."
"Don't fear the power—guide it."
"We've passed this on for your sake…"
The whispers of past One For All users folded into one another, like overlapping ghosts. He could almost see them—silhouettes of heroes standing within a corridor of light that stretched into infinity.
The Inner Plane
He was standing there again—the OFA core.
Fragments of time floated around him, shards of moments stolen from different eras.
A faint outline stepped forward: Midoriya Izuku, older now, eyes calm yet heavy with sorrow.
"You can't shoulder both the future and the past alone," the image said.
Koku clenched his fists. "If I don't, everything collapses. My world… your world… they'll vanish."
Midoriya smiled faintly. "Then let us share the weight. One For All was never meant to be carried by one person—it was meant to be continued."
The vision faded. When Koku blinked, he was back in the ruins, Aina's hand pressed against his chest, light threads sealing his wounds.
The Aftermath
Rex sat nearby, flames dimming to embers as he stared at the sky. "You know, I thought heroes were supposed to stand above the mess. But we're knee-deep in it."
Aina looked up at him. "Heroes stand where people fall. That's what makes it messy."
Koku opened his eyes. The lightning under his skin had quieted, but the whispers still lingered.
"I saw them… the old users of One For All. They're still fighting, even from another time."
Rex snorted. "Great. Now you're carrying ghosts, too."
"Maybe that's the point," Koku said softly. "Every ghost is someone's hope that didn't die."
Aina smiled tiredly. "Then maybe we're ghosts for this era—ones who refuse to disappear."
Voices of the City
Sirens wailed distantly. News drones hovered above, broadcasting the aftermath. For the first time, the media didn't call them "terrorists."
A woman's voice from the street shouted, "Those kids saved us!"
Another: "They fought the monsters, not the heroes!"
Rex blinked. "Did… did they just cheer for us?"
Aina laughed under her breath. "Neo Heroes, huh? Guess the name's spreading."
Koku looked at the ruined skyline. "If people still have something left to believe in, we can't stop now."
He stood slowly, wiping the blood from his chin. His muscles trembled, but his eyes were steady.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we start building again. Not for the Commission, not for fame—just for the next person who needs saving."
Aina nodded. "Then it's decided. Neo Heroes rise at dawn."
Rex stretched, smirking. "And I'll cook breakfast. Don't die before then."
They laughed—quiet, exhausted, but real. Above them, the sky cleared to pale blue, and for a moment it felt like the world might forgive them.
Meanwhile — Hero Commission HQ
Director Kyra stared at the live feed, fingers tightening on the edge of her desk. "Public sentiment's shifting. They're calling him the Chrono Hero."
A subordinate hesitated. "Orders, ma'am?"
Kyra's gaze was cold. "Let them cheer. The higher they rise, the harder they'll fall. Prepare Project Nemesis."
The screen dimmed, leaving only the faint echo of static—like the ticking of a broken clock.