The field was silent.
Not even the wind dared whisper as Kratos walked away from Bakugo, his broad back like a wall pulling all eyes behind it. Every student watched, unmoving. No one spoke. No one dared to.
Mimir broke the silence.
Tied to Kratos' back, his voice came soft—but not without bite.
"Brother… ye think maybe that was a wee bit harsh on the lad?"
Kratos didn't slow.
Didn't turn.
Just let out a deep, growling grunt—half warning, half weary.
Mimir continued anyway, a bit more thoughtful this time.
"Aye… but I'll admit, better he learns now than later. Sooner he sees those classmates not as rivals, but as comrades, the less likely he'll get himself killed—or worse, get someone else killed."
He paused, watching the students still frozen behind them.
"Still can't tell if it's pride or blind confidence in his own strength… but either way, it'll be his ruin if it goes unchecked."
Kratos made a low rumble in his throat again—this one, faintly acknowledging.
Mimir nodded solemnly in his leather loops.
"Kid's got talent. No doubt. His use o' that Quirk, those explosive bursts—refined, efficient. Damn near natural instinct in battle."
Another pause.
"He's gonna be one hell of a hero, if he learns to stop swingin' at shadows and start protectin' people instead of tryin' to outshine 'em."
Kratos gave no answer, but the slight tilt of his head, the way his pace slowed ever so slightly, spoke enough. He knew.
They both knew.
Letting Bakugo continue down that road would lead not to greatness…
…but to something far more dangerous.
As they passed the rear of the auditorium, Kratos' golden eyes drifted left.
Movement.
Suspicious movement.
And there—tiptoeing like a man who absolutely did not want to be caught—was All Might. Dressed in a civilian suit, coat swishing behind him, limbs stiff like a cartoon burglar.
He didn't even look back as he crept away, carefully inching along the wall.
Then—CLANG!
The sharp, metallic shriek of steel scraping stone echoed through the air.
And then—
THUNK!!
An axe embedded itself into the ground mere inches in front of him—frost exploding outward, coating the nearby grass in shimmering ice. All Might yelped in a decidedly un-heroic manner, leapt a full foot in the air, and spun on his heel like a startled ostrich.
Standing just down the path, Kratos.
Arms folded.
Face like a glacier.
Eyes like judgment itself.
Mimir? Silent. Watching.
All Might cleared his throat awkwardly, blinking as he tried to hold his hero smile.
"Ah… Kratos! My good man! Fancy meeting you h—"
"Explain."
The single word was heavier than the axe still humming in the ice.
All Might's smile twitched.
"R-Right! Of course! No need to get angry, heh! I'll explain! Just… come with me, yes?"
Kratos walked forward without a word, yanked the Leviathan Axe from the earth, and followed.
Later—inside a quiet staff lounge…
The air was still. Heavy.
Kratos sat on a reinforced couch, one arm resting across his thigh, the other loosely gripping the edge of the couch beside him. His presence filled the room like a looming cliff.
Across from him sat All Might—not the towering figure the world knew, but his scrawny form, sunken cheeks, tired eyes, and narrow frame draped in a loose dress shirt and blazer.
Mimir had been placed on the low coffee table between them, staring from one to the other like a spectator at the edge of something sacred.
All Might exhaled slowly, hands clasped together as he leaned forward. His voice, when it came, lacked its usual thunder. It was quiet. Earnest.
"I suppose it's time you knew the truth… about Midoriya. About me."
Kratos said nothing. He simply listened.
All Might looked down at his bony hands.
"This form... is the real me now. A ghost of the symbol I used to be. Years ago, I suffered a grievous wound at the hands of a villain. One that left my insides ravaged. I can only maintain my powered form for a short while each day."
He raised his eyes, and for once, there was no sparkle in them.
"I've been hiding this from the world. Because people need hope. They need to believe in peace… even if that peace is cracked."
Mimir's gaze softened.
Kratos remained still.
All Might continued, his voice trembling just slightly.
"My Quirk—One For All—was passed down to me. A gift, grown stronger through generations. And I chose Midoriya as the next bearer."
He hesitated, pain flickering across his face.
"He was born Quirkless. Powerless. And yet… he ran toward danger when no one else would. Not out of strength. But heart. That's why I gave him my power."
He looked at Kratos now with the quiet weight of someone who simply hoped to be understood.
"But his body… it wasn't ready. No in fact, it's still far from ready. Every time he uses that power recklessly, it breaks him. Bones shatter. Limbs go limp. Every victory comes at a price."
There was silence again. Until Mimir spoke, quiet and low.
"So you've been followin' him… watchin', because you're afraid …"
All Might nodded slowly.
"I am afraid that his body might fail him trying to use a power that strong."
He leaned back in his seat, looking every bit his true age now. The weight of legacy sat heavy on his frail frame.
Then, he looked at Kratos—truly looked at him. Not with caution or calculation, but with hope. With the deep, desperate hope of a man trying to prepare for the end.
"Kratos…" he said softly. "Can I… ask something of you?"
Kratos' head tilted. His golden eyes narrowed—not with rejection, but with gravity.
He said nothing for a moment, looking straight in All Might's eyes.
Then he gave a single, small nod.
All Might's throat worked for a moment, his voice barely above a whisper.
"If… one day, I can't be there for them. If I fall before I can see them grow into the heroes I know they can be...Will you protect them?"
The room was silent.
Mimir said nothing.
Kratos stared at All Might.
And gave no answer.
---------------
The silence left behind after Kratos' demonstration clung to the field like fog.
No one dared speak for a long while—not even after Kratos had disappeared behind the building, Mimir's voice trailing off like the wind sighing through old trees.
Aizawa didn't waste a moment.
"Back to the tests," he said flatly, rolling himself out of his sleeping bag.
The students flinched.
Bakugo, injured and trembling from exhaustion, had already been carried to the infirmary by one of the assistant teachers. His arms had gone numb. His sweat-slicked face twitched with pain, and even as he protested between gasps, no one argued.
With him gone, the rest continued—in silence.
Later—inside the classroom, after the assessment ended…
The energy was tense.
Too quiet for a group of teenagers who'd just completed a full battery of Quirk-based tests.
Someone finally spoke.
"…That guy's scary as hell."
Mineta sat on the table, still breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his face. "Like—not scary like Aizawa-sensei 'I'll-expel-you' scary, but like… 'I'll-kill-you' scary."
Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck, his smile tight. "Yeah, he's intense. Super manly and all, but… I dunno. That thing with Bakugo... it felt heavy."
"Bakugo deserved it," Jirou muttered, her voice low.
The others turned toward her.
She crossed her arms, earbuds twitching faintly. "He's been treating people like crap since the moment we met. I get being strong, but acting like he's better than everyone? That's not heroic."
"Still…" Tsuyu added thoughtfully, while sitting on her chair.
"Watching him like that—biting his lip, shaking—it felt… off. Not satisfying. Just sad."
Kaminari slumped forward on his knees, arms dangling. "I mean... yeah, I don't like how Bakugo acts, but that was something else. Like, Kratos-sensei didn't even raise his voice. He just stood there, and it was like the entire world was judging you."
The room grew quiet again.
Midoriya sat quietly at the edge of the room, his face buried in his "Hero Analysis for future" notebook.
He hadn't said a word since the assessment ended.
But he was thinking.
Hard.
"Everyone's unsettled. No one really knows what to make of Kratos-sensei…"
He looked down at his shoes. The image of Bakugo collapsing to his knees played in his mind again.
"…But I do."
Memories clawed their way up from the dark: the bullying, the sneers, the way Bakugo had once spat out "why don't you take a swan dive off the roof?" like it was just another insult.
No shame. No hesitation.
And no consequences.
Midoriya clenched his fists.
"Bakugo's always been praised because his Quirk's so good. People said it was perfect for being a hero. They ignored how cruel he could be."
He glanced at the others. Even now, there was pity for Bakugo. Concern.
But not a word about what he'd done to others.
To him.
Midoriya's jaw tightened.
'What Kratos did today… maybe it hurt. Maybe it scared everyone. But it should've been done a long time ago. Maybe by his parents. Or a teacher. Someone.'
He raised his head.
"Someone finally told him the truth. Finally made him feel what he's made others feel."
He stood slowly, not looking at anyone.
"I just don't get him," Mina muttered, pink brows furrowed. "Kratos-sensei, I mean. He didn't do anything wrong, technically. But it's like... I don't know. He makes the air feel heavy when he's around."
Sero nodded. "Yeah. It's like… he's not even trying to scare us. He just is. Like if a mountain had legs and a permanent glare."
"Do you think he even likes us?" someone whispered from the back.
No one answered.
And in that silence, one thing was clear.
Kratos had made an impression.
Not all good. Not all bad.
Just…
Unshakable.