The starting buzzer echoed through the mock-city arena, a sharp, mechanical note that was instantly swallowed by the sound of moving bodies.

"Now, Tokoyami-kun!" Tsuyu's voice was a calm directive in the sudden stillness.

"Understood. Dark Shadow!" Fumikage commanded. The living quirk erupted from his chest, a torrent of yellow-eyed darkness that coiled gently around Tsuyu's waist. With a powerful heave, the shadowy beast launched her skyward toward a high gantry. In a seamless, practiced motion, Tsuyu's long tongue shot out mid-air, wrapping securely around Fumikage's torso and yanking him up after her. It was a beautiful, acrobatic display of trust and synergy, landing them both on the upper level in a matter of seconds.

In the observation room, Izuku's brow was furrowed, his muttering a low, rapid-fire stream of analysis. "They're taking the high ground, a smart move against a close-quarters fighter like Ectoplasm-sensei... but his Quirk isn't about power, it's about numbers and attrition. I can't see how it's specifically designed to exploit their weaknesses, though... Asui's mobility and Tokoyami's area denial should, in theory..."

"It's a bad matchup for the boy," Recovery Girl interjected, her voice gentle but firm, cutting through his monologue. She tapped a finger on the monitor displaying Fumikage's determined face. "His power weakens in bright light, and while the shadows here are ample now, the psychological pressure of being relentlessly hunted by a small army... that's a different kind of darkness. One his shadow might not be able to fight."

Back in the arena, the pair fled deeper into the labyrinthine upper floors, their footsteps echoing. But Ectoplasm was not to be outmaneuvered. From the gloom below, a soft puff-puff-puff sound multiplied into a chorus. Dozens of clones, their movements a perfectly synchronized tide, began to pour up the stairwells and scale the walls, their blank eyes fixed on the students. They moved with a single-minded purpose that was unnerving.

"There are too many!" Fumikage grunted, Dark Shadow lashing out to swat a cluster of clones away, only for two more to take their place. The sheer volume was overwhelming, threatening to engulf him in a sea of plaster-hard limbs.

They are like a swarm, Fumikage thought, his mind racing. Dark Shadow cannot hold them all back. We are being cornered.

Just as the clones threatened to pin him, a flash of green and brown shot past. "Ribbit!" Tsuyu's tongue snapped out, not to attack, but to anchor itself on a distant pipe. With her free hand, she grabbed the scruff of Fumikage's costume. "Sorry for the rough handling!" she apologized, before using her powerful legs to kick off the wall, swinging both of them clear of the horde and up through an open hatch to an even higher level, leaving the swarm of clones momentarily baffled below.

A low, rumbling chuckle emanated from a large, wolf-like form observing the screens. King watched the proceedings with immense amusement, his tail giving a single, lazy thump against the floor. Just as the Master said, he mused inwardly, a proud smile touching his canine features. Their strength is raw, but their spirit is refined. They adapt. They fight as one. I look forward to seeing how far this pack can go.

His thoughts were interrupted by a tentative touch on his shoulder. He turned his great head to see Izuku Midoriya standing there, his expression a mixture of determination and nervous curiosity.

"Hey, King," Izuku began, his voice earnest. "For our match... is there anything we need to know about you to make this fight fair? Your Quirk, your limitations...?"

King's intelligent eyes crinkled at the corners. The boy's desire for a fair fight, for data to analyze, was so transparently pure. He nodded eagerly, a very human gesture in his majestic, animalistic form.

"Everything you know about Y/N," he said calmly, his voice a deep, resonant baritone that seemed to vibrate in the chest, "is basically what I can do." He paused, letting the weight of that statement sink in. The power of a god, channeled through a familiar. "I can do most of the normal things a wolf can do, but I have a few... special tricks up my sleeve." He gave a wolfish grin, all sharp teeth and playful promise. "But telling you what they are wouldn't be fair, would it? You are all, effectively, fighting a fragment of All Might. I don't want to spoil the surprise, kid."

He then stood up to his full, imposing height and leaned forward, ruffling Izuku's already wild hair with a gentle nudge of his nose. The gesture was surprisingly affectionate.

"Hey," King rumbled, his tone softening. "Don't look so down. You'll do fine. You and your pack... you're full of surprises."

Cornered in a narrow corridor with the relentless tide of Ectoplasm clones closing in, Fumikage knew a direct assault was futile. "Dark Shadow!" he commanded, his voice tight with strain. The avian quirk burst forth, a furious cyclone of darkness and yellow light, attempting to batter a path through the synthetic army.

But Ectoplasm's main body stood firm, a stoic monument amidst the chaos. With brutal efficiency, he repelled Dark Shadow's strikes, his hardened legs moving with the precision of a master martial artist. "Your power is formidable, Tokoyami," Ectoplasm stated, his voice echoing slightly through his mask, "but in such confined quarters, it lacks the space to truly soar. You cannot overpower me in close combat."

A moment of desperation threatened to cloud Fumikage's mind. Is this our limit? To be overwhelmed by sheer numbers?

It was then that Tsuyu, who had been analyzing the situation with her usual calm, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Ribbit. Don't worry, Tokoyami-kun. I prepared for this."

Before a bewildered Fumikage could question her, Tsuyu's throat bulged slightly. With a soft, wet cough, she produced the metallic gleam of the capture cuffs from her mouth, holding them out. "I swallowed them before the fight started. Just in case we got separated from our gear."

Fumikage stared, a newfound respect blooming in his chest. Her foresight... it is unparalleled.

"Dark Shadow is the only one fast and strong enough to get through now," Tsuyu continued, her large, unblinking eyes filled with unwavering faith. "And that's because you're so strong, Tokoyami-kun. Your spirit gives him power."

Emboldened by her words, Fumikage's resolve hardened. "Very well! Dark Shadow, the cuffs! Our final gambit!"

With a screech of determination, Dark Shadow snatched the cuffs and became a blur of offensive energy, weaving through the clones in a desperate, last-ditch assault aimed directly at the original Ectoplasm. The teacher met the challenge head-on, his movements a whirlwind that ultimately shattered the manifestation of darkness, causing Dark Shadow to recoil into Fumikage with a pained cry.

But in the final, chaotic moment of the clash, a sharp click echoed. As the dust settled, Ectoplasm looked down. One of his powerful legs was now securely locked in the capture cuff. A moment of stunned silence hung in the air before a low, appreciative chuckle rumbled from the pro hero.

"Clever," Ectoplasm announced, a note of genuine praise in his voice. "Using the chaos of a final, doomed assault as a distraction for the real objective. You turned your weakness into a strategy. Well done. You pass."

The announcement of their victory echoed through the observation room. Momo Yaoyorozu watched the screen, her hand thoughtfully covering her mouth. He's grown so much, she thought, a vivid memory flashing in her mind of Dark Shadow's overwhelming power during their Sports Festival match. And his partnership with Asui-san is impeccable. I have much to learn.

A pleased rumble vibrated in King's chest. Just as the Master said, he mused, his tail giving a soft thump. Their strength isn't just in their power, but in the cleverness of their hearts.

His attention shifted to the next monitor, where the battle between Iida, Mashirao, and Power Loader was commencing. On the dirt field, Power Loader immediately used his Quirk to burrow underground, turning the terrain into a treacherous landscape of sudden pitfalls and collapsing earth.

"Ojiro-kun, onto my back!" Tenya commanded, his engine calves already revving. "We shall utilize sheer velocity!"

Mashirao nodded, leaping onto Tenya's back and using his tail for balance. "Ready!"

"Recipro Burst!" Tenya yelled, and he became a blue-white streak of motion. He raced across the unstable field, his speed so immense that the ground collapsed behind him slower than he could run. For a breathtaking moment, it seemed they would achieve a flawless, rapid victory.

But just before they reached the gate, the earth erupted in front of them. Power Loader intercepted them with brutal efficiency, his drill-helmet gleaming in the sun, blocking their path completely.

As King watched the tide of that battle turn, he felt a presence beside him. The ever-weary Shota Aizawa gave his furry shoulder a pat.

"If you want," Aizawa said, his voice its usual low monotone, but with a glint of challenge in his eyes, "you can join me in the fight against Yaoyorozu and Todoroki."

King's head swiveled, his eyes widening before sparkling with uncontainable glee. The opportunity to test these promising pups himself? It was a dream come true. "I'd love to," he rumbled, his voice rich with eager anticipation.

Aizawa simply nodded and walked away. This wolf, he thought, a flicker of confusion crossing his normally impassive face. His demeanor, that playful confidence... it's so unnervingly similar to Y/N.

Meanwhile, in a Tokyo hospital, the air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and silence. Y/N effortlessly carried the unconscious form of Kenjaku—wearing Suguru Geto's stolen skin—down a sterile corridor. The mission was over, but the emotional cleanup was just beginning.

A sudden shift in the air, the soft click of a door, made every one of her divine instincts scream. She spun around, power flickering at her fingertips, only to freeze.

Standing there was Suguru Geto. The real one.

This Geto, however, was different. His hair was shorter, neatly kept, and his traditional robes were immaculate, free of the stains of fanaticism and decay. His face, while etched with concern, lacked the chilling serenity of Kenjaku's manipulation. He was breathing heavily, as if he had run a great distance.

"Ah, there you are," Geto said, his voice a familiar, grounding baritone that held genuine worry. "I thought you were hurt."

Y/N's defensive posture melted away. She placed a hand on her hip, adopting a theatrically indignant expression. Her bottom lip trembled, and she manufactured a shimmer of tears in her eyes. "What, moi? Hurt?" she wailed, her voice dripping with faux despair. "You're hurting my feelings, Sugu! To think you'd have so little faith in me!"

Geto's cheeks flushed a faint pink. He reached out and swatted her shoulder lightly, a gesture of fond exasperation. "Hey, don't do that, Y/N," he grumbled, looking away. "You know I can't handle it when you make that face."

Instantly, the tears vanished, replaced by a brilliant, triumphant laugh. "Ara, ara~ I know, dear!" Y/N chirped, her smile radiant and true. For a moment, in that sterile hallway, with her real friend by her side, everything felt perfectly, wonderfully normal.

Geto shook his head, a long-suffering but fond sigh escaping his lips. "You're impossible, you know that, right?" The words were a complaint, but the tone was wrapped in an undeniable warmth.

Y/N beamed, her expression radiant and utterly unrepentant. "Oh, I've heard that before! Usually from you, in fact~"

Together, they maneuvered the unconscious Kenjaku into a secure hospital ward, where Mahito was already securely bound to a neighboring bed with cursed-energy-suppressing seals. The room buzzed with the efficient chaos of specialized nurses, their movements sharp and purposeful as they hooked up monitors and reinforced the bindings.

The head nurse, a woman with a no-nonsense demeanor and eyes that had seen too much, shooed them toward the door. "Okay, you've done what you came to do. Now go. My team needs space to work."

Y/N offered a placating nod and allowed Geto to guide her out into the quiet hallway. The moment the door swung shut, his arm slid naturally around her shoulders, pulling her into his side with a comfortable, possessive weight.

"So," he began, his voice dropping to a more intimate register. He poked her cheek gently, a playful gesture that contrasted with the slight tension in his jaw. "You're not thinking of going back to Mustafu already, are you? Megumi haven't seen you in days."

  She leaned into his touch, the divine energy within her humming with a familiar conflict. "No, Sugu, I'm not leaving yet," she assured him, though her gaze drifted down the hallway as if she could see all the way to another city, another school. "Even though I want to..."

He didn't push further, simply nodding and letting his arm drop. He knew that look. It was the same one she got when talking about those "hero students" of hers. He would never truly understand her connection to them, the pull she felt to a world so different from their own of shadows and curses. Well, he reasoned, most of her students. The first-years here at Jujutsu High were a different matter entirely; they were part of his world, too.

As if summoned by his thoughts, they turned the corner and nearly collided with two familiar figures.

"Y/N-san! You're here!"

Nobara Kugisaki's voice was a bright, energetic chirp in the sterile corridor. Her face lit up, and she immediately moved to launch herself at her teacher for a hug. However, a dark-haired boy's hand shot out, catching her by the collar with practiced ease.

"Show some respect, Kugisaki," Megumi Fushiguro said, his voice as cool and level as ever. His posture was perfectly composed, but a careful observer would note the way the tight line of his shoulders had relaxed upon seeing them, and the subtle, almost imperceptible light of relief in his eyes. Joy, for him, was a quiet, potent thing, pouring out in waves that only those who knew him could sense. "Geto-sensei is here too."

Nobara huffed but complied, offering a more measured, though still enthusiastic, bow to Geto. "Geto-sensei! It's good to see you both safe."

Y/N's smile returned, wider and more genuine now, all thoughts of Mustafu momentarily forgotten in the presence of her two brightest, most chaotic students. Here, in this world of cursed energy and beloved colleagues, she was exactly where she needed to be.

The fourth battle commenced in the hushed, artificial canyons of the urban simulation zone. Shoto and Momo moved with practiced caution, their footsteps echoing faintly on the faux asphalt. The air was thick with anticipation, the silence itself a predator.

"He could be anywhere," Momo whispered, her eyes darting to every shadowed window and alleyway. "Aizawa-sensei favors ambushes."

Shoto's gaze was calm, analytical. "Then we need an early warning system. Yaoyorozu, I need you to continuously create small, simple objects. The moment your Quirk flickers and you can't, you'll know he's found us and has erased your power."

It was a brilliant, logical plan. Yet, Momo's stomach twisted with a sudden, cold dread. He's putting the entire burden of detection on me. And if I fail...

"When that happens," Shoto continued, his voice low and firm, "you run. Don't look back. I'll distract him myself."

Momo's lips parted, a protest on the tip of her tongue. But that's not a partnership! That's you sacrificing yourself! She wanted to argue, to suggest a better, combined strategy. But the unwavering certainty in his heterochromatic eyes stole the words from her. He had already decided. With a reluctant nod, she swallowed her objections and began creating a series of small, identical matryoshka dolls, letting them drop into a padded bag at her hip. One... two... three...

Suddenly, the air stilled. A low, rumbling growl vibrated through the very concrete beneath their feet, a sound so deep it felt primordial. They looked up.

Towering over the two-story building beside them was a massive, wolf-like head. King's intelligent eyes glinted with predatory amusement, his black nose twitching as he scented their surprise.

Damn! Momo's mind screamed, her blood running cold. I should have considered he would patrol the higher ground!

'I should have seen that coming,' Shoto thought, his body already moving. He shoved Momo to the side as the colossal wolf lunged, a blur of white fur and power that shattered the facade of the building where they'd just been standing. 'Besides, I thought King was only going to use his full power against Midoriya and Bakugo, not us!'

There was no time for further analysis. Shoto slammed his right foot onto the ground, and a glacier of ice erupted, surging upward to encase the beast in a frozen tomb.

At least, he tried.

With a sound like a mountain breaking apart, King simply lunged over the rising wave, his powerful limbs crushing the crest of the ice as if it were fragile glass. Before Shoto could react, a set of jaws that could crush steel closed around his torso. The world became a dizzying whirl of blue sky and gray concrete as King shook him once, twice—a terrifying but measured motion, like a wolf disciplining a pup without breaking its skin—before dropping him and pinning him firmly to the ground with one massive paw.

Just then, a dark blur descended from a rooftop. Aizawa landed between them, his capture scarf whipping through the air. He didn't even look at Shoto; his target was the flustered creator. In a move too fast to follow, he kicked Momo's legs out from under her, sending her tumbling to the ground. The bag of matryoshka dolls scattered around her.

"Sloppy," he commented brusquely, his voice flat and devoid of warmth. He stared down at her, his black hair floating, red eyes glowing. "You were so focused on the visible threat, you forgot about the silent one. I expected more from you, Yaoyorozu."

Tears of frustration and shame burned in Momo's eyes, hot and insistent. But she refused to let them fall. He's right. I failed. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to sit up straight, her hands already glowing with the effort of creation. She would make something, anything, to prove she wasn't beaten—

The light at her palms sputtered and died. Aizawa's Quirk washed over her, and the familiar feeling of her power vanished, leaving her feeling hollow and exposed.

"That was stupid," Aizawa stated, his gaze unwavering. "Attempting to use your Quirk while I'm clearly targeting you shows a critical lack of situational awareness."

From his position, pinning a thoroughly winded Shoto, King let out a soft chuff. His deep, rumbling voice cut through Aizawa's critique, not with anger, but with a tone of gentle reason.

"Yah, sensei, don't be so hard on them," the wolf said, his intelligent eyes shifting from Momo's defeated form to Aizawa's stern face. "They're students. Kids. They're not seasoned pros you can boss around. We beat them. They failed." He looked down at Shoto, then back to Momo, his gaze almost sympathetic. "That's the cold, hard truth. The lesson is in the failure itself. You don't need to salt the wound."