Walking briskly through the halls of the rehabilitation system, I knew exactly where I was going. After leaving Nezu's office with approval freshly stamped, I couldn't waste any time. The League needed to hear this from me directly. Their survival—and mine—depended on it. Reaching the designated classroom, I stopped just outside the door, catching snippets of a lecture inside. Thirteen's soft, measured voice filtered through, trying to maintain order amidst the barely contained chaos that was this particular group.

Without hesitation, I flung the door open, my entrance dramatic enough to silence the ongoing chatter. All eyes turned to me, including Thirteen's. The space was crowded with individuals of varying postures, attitudes, and quirks—each one a puzzle piece waiting to be arranged.

"Thirteen," I said sharply, stepping into the room. "Out."

They blinked, startled. "Excuse me?"

I reached into my bag and pulled out a fat envelope of cash, tossing it onto the desk in front of them. The sound was satisfying, drawing gasps and murmurs from the class.

"That's for your troubles," I said. "Take the day off. Go get something nice. I'm taking over."

Thirteen stared at the envelope, their body language radiating confusion. "Midoriya, I don't think—"

"Save it," I interrupted. "This is approved by Nezu. And trust me, I have no time to explain."

After a moment's hesitation, Thirteen sighed, collected the money, and left without further protest.

I turned to face the class, scanning the room. My eyes landed briefly on Shigaraki, sitting slouched near the back, his ever-present scowl in place but his sharp eyes watching me carefully.

"Good morning, everyone," I began, walking to the center of the room. "Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Midoriya Izuku. Hero-in-training. Genius. And, oh yeah—" I smirked, letting the tension build before delivering the bombshell. "I'm also All for One's son."

The room erupted in gasps, accusations, and disbelief. Toga actually squealed in delight. "I knew you were too good to be just a hero!"

Dabi leaned back in his chair, a lazy smirk on his face. "Makes sense. No one pulls strings like that without a little villainy in their blood."

Shigaraki said nothing, his expression unreadable.

I raised my hand to silence them, my voice cutting through the noise. "Save your theories and judgments. I'm not here to debate my bloodline. I'm here because you need to know what's coming."

I stepped forward, my presence commanding their attention. "Nezu's cooking up something big—something public. A joint event between the hero course and this rehabilitation program. Think of it like the Sports Festival, but with a twist. It's going to be you against the hero students."

The room fell silent, disbelief giving way to unease. "I know what you're thinking," I continued. "It's a setup, right? A chance for the world to humiliate you and prove you don't belong here. But I'm not letting that happen. We aren't letting that happen. If you listen to me, train under me, we'll turn this whole system on its head."

A murmur rippled through the class. Most of them looked skeptical, some outright hostile.

"I'm not asking for volunteers," I said, my tone sharp. "You're going to train because you don't have a choice. Whether you like it or not, the world will judge you, and I'm going to make sure you're ready to spit in their faces."

"Why should we even bother?" one of the students asked, their voice filled with bitterness. "It's not like anyone's going to see us as anything but villains."

"Exactly!" another chimed in. "We're better off staying out of it."

I narrowed my eyes, my frustration bubbling under the surface. "You think lying low is going to help you? News flash: the world already hates you. Sitting quietly in this program won't change that. You'll be a villain in their eyes until the day you die—unless you make them see something different."

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of truth.

Shigaraki shifted in his seat, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "You're not doing this to prove anything, are you?"

I turned to him, my expression neutral. "What makes you say that?"

He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with understanding. "You've got a plan. Something bigger. This isn't about us or the program. It's about you. You're playing the long game."

I didn't respond immediately, letting the tension build. Then I smiled. "Clever as always, Tomura."

His smirk widened. "So, what's the real goal?"

"That," I said, "is for me to know and you to follow."

Turning back to the rest of the room, I softened my tone slightly. "Look, I know it's hard to trust me. I'm a hero-in-training, and you're... well, not. But if there's one thing you can believe, it's this: I don't lose. Not ever. Stick with me, and I'll make sure you come out on top."

Toga was the first to speak up. "If you can make us stronger than the heroes, I'm in!"

Dabi shrugged, his smirk never fading. "Guess I've got nothing better to do."

The others murmured their reluctant agreement, some more enthusiastic than others.

I nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, get ready. Training starts tomorrow, and it's going to make UA's hero course look like a joke."

As the class began to disperse, Shigaraki lingered, watching me with an intensity that made it clear he was already scheming.

"Don't screw this up," he said quietly as he passed me.

I smirked. "I wouldn't dream of it."

As the door closed behind the last of them, I stood alone in the classroom, my mind already racing with strategies and plans. If this was going to work, I needed every one of them in peak condition—physically, mentally, and emotionally. And if they trusted me, even just a little, that was enough.