Morning at UA felt... off. You know how it is when something big happens—everyone's pretending things are normal, but the tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with Tokoyami's sword of metaphorical darkness.

Breakfast was unusually quiet. Nobody even reacted when Bakugo yelled at Kaminari for spilling milk on his plate. I mean, come on, that's prime "laugh at the idiot" material, and yet... nothing.

I stirred my cereal, watching my classmates out of the corner of my eye. Kirishima and Mina were whispering about the curfew. Momo was staring at the news on her phone, her lips pressed into a thin line. Even Todoroki looked like he was thinking about something other than his next battle strategy.

"So," I said, trying to break the ice, "anybody else feel like we're in the middle of a bad detective novel?"

"Not now, Deku," Bakugo snapped.

I blinked. "Wow, thanks for the support, Kacchan. Really appreciate your sensitivity in these trying times."

"Shut it," he growled, shoving his chair back as he stormed out of the room. Guess someone doesn't handle tension well.

"Well," Kaminari said, trying to force a grin, "at least he's consistent."

Nobody laughed.

Classes that day were a blur. Aizawa-sensei barely even lectured us—just handed out some worksheets and told us to "focus." Easier said than done when half the school was buzzing with rumors about Hitoshi Saito's death.

"Did you hear what the second-years are saying?" Mina whispered during lunch.

"No," I said, leaning in. "What?"

"They think it wasn't an accident," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Some of them think he was... murdered."

I froze.

"Mina," I said slowly, "where did you hear that?"

"Jirou overheard it in the hall," she said, glancing around nervously. "They're saying the injuries were too... deliberate. Like someone knew exactly what they were doing."

Deliberate. That word bounced around in my head like a pinball, each repetition hitting harder than the last.

Before I could ask more, the conversation was interrupted by a sharp crack as Bakugo slammed his tray down on our table.

"Stop whispering like a bunch of extras," he snapped, glaring at all of us. "You're just making this worse."

"Bakugo, we're just—" I started.

"Don't care," he interrupted, jabbing a finger at me. "If you're so smart, then figure out what the hell's going on instead of running your damn mouth."

And just like that, my appetite was gone.

Later that afternoon, I found myself wandering near the training grounds again. It wasn't exactly intentional—my feet just kind of... carried me there. Totally not because I couldn't stop thinking about the bloodstain I'd seen yesterday.

The police tape was still up, fluttering in the breeze like some kind of grim banner. I stood there for a while, staring at the spot where they'd found Hitoshi. The scuff marks, the dried blood—it all felt too real now.

"Looking for something?"

I jumped, spinning around to find Todoroki standing a few feet away.

"Uh, no," I said quickly. "Just... thinking."

"About the accident?" he asked, his voice calm but sharp.

"Yeah," I admitted. "I mean, doesn't it seem weird to you? That this happened at UA of all places?"

He nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It doesn't make sense. The security here is too tight. If it wasn't an accident..."

"Then it had to be someone on the inside," I finished for him, my stomach twisting at the thought.

We stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation sinking in. Then Todoroki spoke again.

"Be careful, Midoriya," he said, his voice quieter now. "If someone's responsible for this, they might not stop at one."

Comforting. Thanks, Todoroki.

That night, I couldn't sleep. Again. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Hitoshi's name flashing on Kirishima's phone screen.

Eventually, I gave up and grabbed my notebook, flipping to a fresh page.

Theories:

1. Accident—unlikely, based on the injuries.

2. Villains—possible, but no sign of a breach.

3. Internal—most likely. But who? And why?

I tapped my pen against the paper, staring at the list until my eyes blurred. It didn't add up. None of it did.

Just as I was about to give up and try sleeping again, I heard something. A faint rustling sound, coming from outside my window.

I froze, my heart pounding. Slowly, I crept over to the window and peeked out.

There it was again—a shadow moving through the trees, too big to be an animal this time.

I grabbed my phone, snapping a quick picture before the shadow disappeared. My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped it.

When I looked at the picture, all I saw were blurred branches and darkness. But I knew what I'd seen.

Something—or someone—was out there.

And they weren't done yet.