Y/n swirled the deep crimson wine in his glass, savoring the rich aroma as he took a slow sip. The silence of his home was suddenly interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. He sighed, setting down his glass with a soft clink against the marble table. With a lazy wave of his hand, the door swung open on its own—no need to get up when you had power like his.

Aizawa shuffled in, looking utterly exhausted. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes like bruises, and his shoulders sagged with fatigue.

"Shota," Y/n greeted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You look like death warmed over."

"Thanks," Aizawa muttered dryly, managing a weak nod in return before immediately flopping onto the sofa with zero ceremony. He let out a long exhale, sinking into the cushions. "Can I crash here tonight? Can't sleep at my place. Too much noise. It's quieter here."

Y/n blinked, tilting his head slightly as he observed his colleague. Interesting. Shota had been acting strange lately—ever since the Sports Festival, actually. The normally reserved teacher had become more... open. More present. His affections toward Y/n, once carefully guarded, now surfaced more frequently. Even Present Mic had noticed the shift, making obnoxious comments about it at every opportunity.

Not that Y/n minded, really. It was just... unusual for Aizawa to seek out company like this.

"Sure," Y/n said with a casual shrug, settling back into his chair. "Mi casa es su casa and all that."

Aizawa was quiet for a moment, staring at the ceiling before his dark eyes shifted toward Y/n. "What were you talking to Nezu about earlier?"

Y/n raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. Ah, so that's what this is about. "Straight to business, huh? No small talk?" He chuckled. "We were discussing the League's involvement in the recent attacks. Their plans, their movements—the usual villainous scheming."

Aizawa sat up slightly, his expression sharpening despite his exhaustion. "What do you know about it?"

Y/n leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes gleaming with something ancient and knowing. "I sent Sukuna to scout ahead. He's good at sniffing out trouble—and causing it, but that's beside the point." He waved a hand dismissively. "Geto's gathering intel too, working his contacts at the monk temple. Between the two of them, we'll have answers soon enough."

Aizawa's jaw tightened, worry flickering across his features. "Are they still after you?"

Y/n's smirk faded slightly, replaced by something more serious. He nodded slowly. "Yeah. They are." He paused, letting the weight of his next words settle. "They've even recruited the Hero Killer, Stain, to their cause."

The room fell silent, tension thickening the air between them.

This is getting more complicated, Y/n thought, though outwardly he maintained his calm, almost playful demeanor. But when has anything ever been simple?

Aizawa's expression darkened, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as concern took over. "Then you need to stay home," he said firmly, his voice carrying an edge of protectiveness that was rare for the usually detached hero. "At least until we know more about their plans."

Y/n let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he rose from his chair with fluid grace. "Me? Stay home?" He picked up his wine glass, the crimson liquid catching the light as he carried it toward the kitchen. "Shota, I appreciate the concern, really—but no villain in their right mind would come close to me." His voice carried that signature confidence, that unshakeable certainty that came from being something far beyond human. "I have Infinity, remember? They can't even touch me."

As if anything in this world could actually harm me, Y/n mused, a flicker of his true nature—ancient, powerful, divine—surfacing in his thoughts. I've faced gods and monsters. A few villains with delusions of grandeur are hardly a threat.

He set the glass down on the kitchen counter with a soft clink, aware of Aizawa's presence following behind him like a shadow.

Before Y/n could turn around fully, he felt arms loop around his waist from behind. His body stiffened instinctively—not from fear, but from surprise. It wasn't often that someone dared to get this close, to breach the invisible barrier he kept around himself.

Y/n glanced over his shoulder, his white hair catching the ambient light and seeming to glow ethereally. His crystalline eyes met Aizawa's tired ones, and despite the seriousness of the moment, a teasing smirk curved his lips. "My, my, Shota," he drawled, his voice dripping with playful amusement. "Getting bold, aren't we? If I didn't know better, I'd think you were worried about me."

Aizawa didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he mumbled something against Y/n's shoulder, his voice muffled and barely audible. "...just want you to be safe."

The words were so quiet, so uncharacteristically vulnerable, that Y/n almost didn't catch them. Something in his chest tightened—an unfamiliar sensation for someone who'd lived as long as he had.

Before Y/n could respond, Aizawa released him and stepped back, his walls immediately going back up. Without another word, the exhausted hero turned and headed back toward the living room, leaving Y/n standing in the kitchen, staring after him with an expression that was equal parts surprised and contemplative.

Interesting, Y/n thought, his fingers absently touching the spot where Aizawa's arms had been. Very interesting indeed.

That night, after a modest dinner of taiyaki and convenience store bentos, Gran Torino dozed off in his worn armchair, soft snores punctuating the quiet evening. Izuku watched his mentor for a moment, ensuring the elderly hero was truly asleep, before slipping out into the cool night air.

The alleyway he found was narrow and shadowed, perfect for what he had in mind. Izuku rolled his shoulders, staring up at the towering walls on either side. If I can't even do this much, how am I supposed to keep up with Y/n-sensei's training?

He activated One For All, feeling the familiar crackle of energy surge through his limbs—but controlling it, keeping it at a manageable percentage, was still like trying to hold water in his bare hands. He launched himself upward, aiming to scale the wall using controlled bursts of power.

He didn't even make it halfway before gravity reclaimed him.

Again. And again. And again.

Each attempt ended the same way—a hard landing on the concrete, his body protesting with fresh bruises layered over old ones. Sweat soaked through his shirt despite the cool air. His legs trembled. His arms burned. But he kept going, driven by the memory of Y/n's effortless movements, the way the white-haired hero moved through space as if physics were merely suggestions he chose to ignore.

Y/n-sensei makes it look so easy, Izuku thought, gritting his teeth as he prepared for another attempt. He's so fast I can barely track him, and with Infinity... I can't even touch him. How am I supposed to knock down someone who exists in a completely different dimension of power?

By the time dawn painted the sky in shades of pink and gold, Izuku was sprawled on the ground, chest heaving, every muscle screaming in exhaustion.

"Found you."

Izuku's head snapped up to see Gran Torino standing at the alley's entrance, arms crossed, his expression unreadable in the early morning light.

"G-Gran Torino! I was just—"

"Training yourself into the ground, I can see that." The elderly hero shuffled forward, his keen eyes taking in Izuku's battered state. "You know, All Might could use One For All from the very start. The power came naturally to him—he only needed combat training to refine his technique." Gran Torino's gaze softened slightly. "You're being taught in a very different manner, kid. Your path isn't his path."

Izuku pushed himself up to sitting, wincing. "I know, but—"

"And I'm surprised," Gran Torino continued, his tone carrying a hint of disapproval, "that Toshinori hasn't told you anything about the Seventh Holder of One For All. That woman was—" He paused, something complicated flickering across his weathered features. "Well. That's a conversation for another time."

The sound of a delivery truck rumbling past interrupted them. Gran Torino glanced at his watch. "Speaking of which, our new microwave should be arriving soon. Come on, let's head back before you collapse in this alley."

As they walked back to the apartment, Gran Torino's eyes slid sideways to study his young protégé. "So," he said casually, though his tone suggested genuine curiosity, "what kind of combat training is that Y/n giving you?"

Izuku's expression immediately shifted—a mixture of admiration, frustration, and exhausted determination. "It's... simple in concept, actually. Y/n-sensei says all I have to do is knock him down. Just once. If I can do that, I win." He let out a self-deprecating laugh. "But it's nearly impossible. He's so fast—faster than anyone I've ever seen, even faster than All Might in some ways. And his Infinity..." Izuku's voice took on an almost reverent quality. "He's been developing it more and more. Now he can control it so precisely that he decides what touches him and what doesn't. It's like trying to fight someone who exists partially outside of reality."

Gran Torino tapped his chin thoughtfully, his sharp mind working through the implications. Interesting. Very interesting indeed. "This Y/n... the young white-haired hero who's always declaring himself the strongest?"

"That's him," Izuku confirmed, a small smile crossing his exhausted features despite everything. "Though to be fair, I'm starting to think he might actually be right about that."

Gran Torino's eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity deepening. "Do you know him personally? Y/n, I mean?"

The elderly hero shook his head slowly. "Can't say I know the young man personally, no. But..." He paused, something nostalgic entering his expression. "Toshinori talked about him quite a bit during his younger years. Always with this mixture of awe and exasperation, like Y/n was simultaneously the most impressive and most infuriating person he'd ever met." A dry chuckle escaped him. "From what I gathered, some things never change."

Izuku nodded enthusiastically, energy returning to his voice despite his physical exhaustion. "Y/n-sensei is amazing! He's teaching me that raw power isn't enough—that I need to think, to adapt, to see the spaces between movements. He says—" Izuku's voice shifted, clearly imitating Y/n's confident drawl, "—'Midoriya, you're so focused on the power you have that you forget about the power you could have. Infinity isn't just about defense; it's about understanding the space between all things.'"

Gran Torino raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. So the kid's learning from someone who thinks on an entirely different level. That might be exactly what he needs.

They reached the apartment just as the delivery truck pulled up, a brand new microwave waiting to replace the one destroyed in yesterday's chaotic training session.

As Izuku helped carry the box inside, Gran Torino found himself contemplating this Y/n character more seriously. A hero who could manipulate space itself, who moved with godlike speed, who trained students by making them chase the impossible...

Just what kind of monster is All Might having this kid train with? Gran Torino wondered, though not without a hint of approval. Then again, maybe that's exactly what it takes to forge the next Symbol of Peace.