Shigaraki

This was it.

Finally.

Something good.

Something that wasn't half-baked, rushed, or falling apart the second it left my head. I paced back and forth, fingers twitching against my neck, scratching lightly—not enough to break skin, just enough to keep the thoughts sharp.

A plan.

A real one.

Not just "walk in and destroy everything."

No.

This time—

I thought it through.

U.A.

Schedules.

Structure.

Weak points.

Teachers.

Students.

All of it.

I grinned, the expression pulling tight and wrong across my face.

"...he's gonna hate it."

Not the plan.

No.

Me.

Because for once?

I wasn't the one being told what to do.

I wasn't the one messing things up.

I figured it out.

I did.

My pacing stopped abruptly.

"...I need to tell him."

Because obviously.

Who else was I supposed to tell?

The old man would just pick it apart.

Twist it.

Turn it into something else.

But him?

He'd get it.

He always did.

Even when he was being annoying about it.

I turned sharply.

"Kurogiri."

A swirl of dark mist shifted in the corner of the room, forming into the familiar silhouette of Kurogiri.

"Yes, Tomura Shigaraki."

"I need a warp."

A pause.

"To where."

I grinned again, wider this time.

"The café."

Another pause.

Subtle.

Measured.

"...understood."

Good.

He didn't question it.

Didn't ask why.

He knew better.

Because if I said I needed to go there—

Then I needed to go there.

The mist began to expand, curling outward, forming that familiar dark portal.

I stepped closer immediately, already impatient.

"I've got it this time," I muttered, more to myself than to him. "A real plan."

Silence.

Then—

"I trust your judgment," Kurogiri said calmly.

I snorted.

"Yeah, you better."

But I didn't mean it like that.

Not really.

My fingers twitched again.

Excitement.

Anticipation.

Something crawling under my skin that I couldn't quite get rid of.

Because this—

This was different.

I wasn't just reacting anymore.

I wasn't just destroying things because I could.

I was building something.

A move.

A step forward.

And I wanted him to see it.

To hear it.

To tell me it wasn't garbage.

Or—better—

To admit it was good.

I stepped right up to the edge of the warp, the dark mist swirling just inches away.

"...he's gonna be impressed."

A beat.

"...he has to be."

Because this time?

This time I actually thought it through.

No rushing.

No shouting.

No—

I stopped that thought.

Didn't matter.

What mattered was—

I had something.

And I was going to show it off.

I stepped forward into the warp without hesitation.

"Let's go."

And just like that—

The café was waiting.

The warp closed behind me with a soft ripple, and just like that—

Calm.

That same weird calm.

It hit immediately, like stepping into a different world where everything just... worked. No noise, no chaos, no pressure clawing at the back of my skull. Just the quiet hum of the café, the low clink of cups, the smell of coffee and something sweet in the air.

I didn't stop.

Didn't look around.

Didn't care who else was there.

I went straight for the counter.

"I've got it."

No greeting.

No order.

Nothing.

Just straight to the point as I planted my hands on the surface and leaned forward, eyes locked on Izuku.

"I figured it out."

He didn't react immediately.

Of course he didn't.

He just looked at me, wiping his hands slowly on a cloth like I hadn't just walked in with the greatest plan I'd ever come up with.

"...you're not ordering?" he asked flatly.

I stared at him.

"...I have a plan."

"That's not a drink."

I twitched.

"Are you serious right now?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"You're in my café."

A beat.

"...order."

I gritted my teeth.

"Fine. Whatever. Coffee. I don't care."

"Good."

He turned away like that settled everything, starting the machine without a hint of urgency.

I stared at his back for half a second.

Then leaned forward again.

"Listen."

"I am."

"I'm serious this time."

"I assumed."

That tone—

That tone—

I clicked my tongue in irritation.

"U.A.," I started, fingers twitching against the counter again. "I'm not just gonna run in blind like before. I'm gonna sneak in first. Figure out their schedules, see when they have field trips, who's there, which teachers are involved."

The machine hummed softly as he worked.

No reaction.

I pushed on anyway.

"Then I gather people. Not just random idiots—actual fighters. Enough to split them up. Divide the students, isolate them, overwhelm them."

The words came faster now, the idea spilling out as it built momentum.

"Heroes-in-training aren't that strong yet. Separate them, and they fall apart. Then we hit them. Hard. Fast. No time to regroup."

The coffee poured.

Steady.

Controlled.

"I'll control the field. Pick the location. Make sure we have the advantage. And when they're scattered—"

I grinned.

"—we break them."

Silence.

Perfect.

Clean.

Brilliant.

I leaned back slightly, waiting.

Waiting for it.

For him to say something.

Anything.

To acknowledge it.

To admit—

"...that's it?" he said.

I blinked.

"...what."

He turned around, setting the cup down in front of me.

"That's your plan."

I stared at him.

"Yes."

A pause.

"And?"

He crossed his arms slightly, leaning against the counter.

"...it's basic."

The word hit wrong.

Sharp.

"What."

"It's a standard infiltration and ambush."

I blinked again.

"...no, it's not."

"It is."

"It's not!"

I leaned forward again, irritation spiking.

"I thought this through!"

"I can tell."

"Then why do you look like that?!"

Because he did.

Unimpressed.

Completely.

Like I'd just told him something obvious.

Something boring.

He tilted his head slightly.

"Because you're missing things."

That made my fingers twitch harder.

"...like what."

"Variables."

I stared at him.

"What variables."

He gestured vaguely.

"Unpredictability."

"That's why I'm scouting first!"

"That doesn't eliminate it."

"It reduces it!"

"Not enough."

I clenched my jaw.

"...you're just saying that."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not."

The calm way he said it made it worse.

Way worse.

Because he wasn't arguing.

He wasn't even raising his voice.

He was just—

Correcting me.

Like it was obvious.

Like I should've seen it already.

"...it's a good plan," I snapped.

"It's an okay plan."

"That's not what I asked!"

"You didn't ask anything."

I froze.

For half a second.

Then leaned in closer, glaring.

"...why aren't you impressed."

There it was.

The question.

The real one.

Because I should have been.

This was better.

Smarter.

More thought out than anything I'd done before.

And he—

He just looked at me like it wasn't enough.

Like I wasn't enough.

Izuku met my gaze without flinching.

"Because you're thinking like a beginner."

Silence.

That—

That actually stunned me.

"...what."

He didn't look away.

"You're improving."

A beat.

"But you're not there yet."

My grip tightened against the counter.

"...define 'there.'"

He tapped the surface lightly.

"Control."

"I am controlling it!"

"No."

That came out sharper.

Still calm.

But firmer.

"You're planning an attack."

A pause.

"You're not controlling the outcome."

I stared at him.

Words stuck for a second.

Because—

Because that didn't make sense.

"...that's the same thing."

"It's not."

Silence stretched between us.

Heavy.

Frustrating.

Confusing.

I leaned back slightly, running a hand through my hair.

"...then what am I missing."

The question came out quieter.

Less sharp.

Because I didn't get it.

And I hated that.

Izuku didn't answer immediately.

Just watched me for a second.

Then—

"Finish your coffee first."

I stared at him.

"...you're kidding."

"I'm not."

"You're seriously making me wait."

"Yes."

I clenched my jaw.

Again.

Then grabbed the cup, taking a sharp sip just to have something to do.

"...you're insufferable."

"Drink."

I glared at him over the rim.