MHA: I Am Homelander

Loid adjusted the mirrored mask over his face as he strolled down the cracked sidewalk. His black cloak swayed with each step, hood raised to shield his identity. Beside him, Kazuo kept pace in a dark hoodie and ski mask, glancing around warily.

"Loid," Kazuo muttered, scanning the unfamiliar streets. "Where the hell are we going?"

Loid's eyes locked onto a tall, run-down apartment complex ahead of them. "Where the ass-kicking takes place," he said simply.

Kazuo frowned. "The what now?"

Loid raised a single finger to his lips, signaling him to keep quiet. They reached the complex, its broken windows and graffiti-covered walls giving it the appearance of abandonment—until they spotted the man at the entrance.

Sitting in a sagging lawn chair, a newspaper spread in front of him, was a familiar figure: the same grizzled man from Loid's first visit.

A cigarette hung lazily from his mouth, and the moment Loid stepped within view, the man flipped his paper down.

"Well well," he said with a crooked grin. "You're early this time, Champ."

Kazuo's eyebrow twitched. "'Champ'...?"

The man stood, rolling the newspaper and tucking it under his arm. "Spectator arranged your debut personally. Division 5's gonna get a show tonight."

Loid nodded once. "Great. You done talking, or can I do what I came here for now?"

The man chuckled, then gestured at Kazuo. "And who's this?"

"A spectator," Loid said coolly. "For now."

"Spectators pay."

Without missing a beat, Loid reached beneath his cloak and pulled out a thick wad of cash.

He dropped it into the man's hand, who raised an impressed eyebrow before pocketing it with a satisfied nod.

Kazuo blinked, his eyes flicking toward Loid in a whisper. "Where the hell did you get that kind of money?"

Loid just smirked, saying nothing as the pieces began falling into place.

They stepped through the front door, disappearing into the building.

The moment they did, the man outside gave a low chuckle, exhaling smoke through his crooked grin as he took a seat. "Good luck," he muttered to himself, flipping open his newspaper again. "You'll need it."

***

Just like before, the inside of the apartment twisted, shifted, and changed—as if stepping through an invisible veil.

The dim hallway became a vibrant, pulsing underground stadium. Concrete walls surrounded them, reinforced with steel beams.

Harsh overhead lights cast shadows over the vast crowd that roared with excitement and chaos.

Kazuo's jaw dropped as his vision focused, ignoring what just happened.

The arena here was far larger than Division 4's.

Elevated stands encircled a massive fighting cage suspended over a pit. Above them, an enormous digital board cycled through fighters' names and stats.

The crowd was thicker too—twice as many people, twice as loud, and somehow even grimmer. A haze of sweat, smoke, and aggression clung to the air.

And the tone was different. Harsher. This crowd wasn't here for fun—they were here for violence.

Kazuo's eyes scanned the scene. "Wait a minute… wait, is this a—"

"A Fight Club? Yup," Loid confirmed, just as Kazuo's eyes bulged.

"You brought us to a fucking Fight Club?!" Kazuo shouted, loud enough to draw a few nearby stares—though nothing that could be heard over the general chaos.

Loid turned to him, raising a finger. "Firstly, first rule of Fight Club: don't talk about Fight Club."

Kazuo glared. "That's not funny—"

"Secondly," Loid added, ignoring him, "don't act like this is the most ridiculous thing I've done in the last 24 hours."

Kazuo huffed but followed as Loid strolled toward the ring's edge.

They found the commentator again, standing near the announcer's booth. He was mid-conversation with a few techs, clearly stressed, but when he noticed Loid, he waved him off.

"Well, at least one thing's going right," the commentator muttered. "You're not late this time."

"I've got a friend here who wants to fight," Loid said plainly.

The commentator's tired expression brightened instantly, his eyes lighting up. "You serious?"

Loid nodded once, then jabbed a thumb toward Kazuo, who stood there stiffly, looking anything but ready. "Yeah. That's him right there. Calls himself Masky."

Kazuo hissed under his breath, "I do not."

The commentator ignored the protest, already too excited by the prospect of a fresh fight.

Without waiting, he grabbed Kazuo's arm. "You're a lifesaver, kid!"

He dragged Kazuo straight toward the ring as the noise around them surged.

Kazuo's eyes widened as they neared the edge of the cage. The sheer scale of the space, the chaotic energy, the jeering crowd—it was overwhelming.

This was no schoolyard brawl. It was something darker, deeper, and far more intense.

"Alright, folks!" the commentator roared into the mic as they entered the cage. "Looks like our Champ from Division 4 didn't come alone tonight! He's brought someone to fill in the gap we had in tonight's card!"

The crowd burst into noise, some cheering, others booing, but all eyes were locked on Kazuo.

"Let's hear it for… Masky!" the commentator bellowed.

Kazuo sighed. "That's not my name…Ugh, forget it."

The announcer grinned at him, ignoring the protest entirely.

Down below, Loid leaned on the railing.

"Relax, don't worry about the eyes, embrace it." he called up to Kazuo.

"You're weak right now, Kazuo. I don't think you need me to tell you that."

"You..." Kazuo furrowed his eyebrows, however, despite what seemed to be a protest, he remained silent.

"But we'll change that. This isn't just about strength either. You'll be leaving that cage with something more. Guts. Balls. Think any of our peers are doing anything like this right now? Our competition for the next generation of heroes are all sucking their thumbs right now."

Kazuo didn't respond. But deep down, he knew Loid was right.

By the time they stepped foot in U.A., he'd already have more experience than half the kids there.

He knew he was weak, which was why he remained silent. Ever since Loid gained his Quirk, he's always felt like Number 2.

He didn't hate his friend for that, no, he was happy for him.

But he still wanted...more.

Breathing in, Kazuo's eyes focused as he rolled up his sleeves slowly.

"Let's do this," he muttered.

Loid grinned. "That's the spirit."

The cage door creaked open on the far side.

A figure emerged.

Tall. Silent. Cloaked entirely in black. Their face was hidden behind a cracked porcelain mask with crimson streaks down its surface.

Every movement they made was slow, deliberate. The crowd, for once, quieted just a bit, the tension climbing as the opponent stepped into the ring.

"Here he is, folks. The debut match for our local Division 3 Champ. So talented that the Spectator himself had his skipped straight to Division 5. Give it up, for Waterworks!"

"That's a stupid name." Loid scoffed.

But Kazuo felt the weight of it.

Whoever this was… they weren't here to play games.

The door shut.

The bell rang.

The fight began.

VUANK.

Kazuo's foot launched off the ground like a spring, each stride practically gliding him forward.

He was fast—no, graceful—his legs burning as he closed the distance between himself and the cloaked opponent, a powerful kick arcing through the air—

—but hit nothing.

Kazuo's eyes widened, his gaze focusing back onto his opponent. Waterworks hadn't moved. Or at least, it looked like he hadn't. Kazuo could've sworn the strike was dead-on.

He gritted his teeth, adjusted, came in again—this time switching feet mid-air for a feint. He swung.

Again, nothing.

"What the—?" Kazuo muttered under his breath.

He launched another, this time not aiming to hit but just observe. A simple straight kick.

The cloaked figure rotated around his leg like a branch sliding around a rock in a stream. Kazuo's foot brushed his opponent's cloak—he was close—yet still too far.

'No movement wasted, no telegraphed tells, hell, I don't even think he's using his Quirk.'

It wasn't speed.

It wasn't foresight.

It was… something else.

Kazuo began kicking the same way, partly to simply understand.

His objective subtly changed—he wasn't aiming to land a knockout anymore. He just wanted to touch him.

Using what he'd practiced with Momo, Kazuo's footwork became sharp, concise.

He changed directions mid-sprint, each step fueled with a sliver of his Kinetic Energy, closing gaps with short hops, hard stops, and slides that should've been impossible to dodge at such a close range.

Still, the man flowed, as if he were personified water.

Slipping.

Turning.

Riding his attacks like water down a slope.

Kazuo leapt back, panting lightly. "What the hell..."

The crowd was beginning to jeer—shouting insults, laughing. They wanted action.

But Kazuo didn't care.

"You're looking at the wrong thing!"

Kazuo turned sharply. Loid was leaning over the railing, shouting.

"Focus! Open your eyes and catch him off guard!"

"Sir, no outside interference!" a suited staff member barked.

"Fuck off," Loid growled without even looking at the man. The suit stood there, stunned, turning to the commentator who merely shrugged.

Kazuo turned back.

'Okay, focus. Attacking isn't working, so change the script.'

He exhaled, and leapt.

No VUANK this time.

Just movement.

He stood before the cloaked figure. No sprint. No build-up.

And then—he threw a jab.

The opponent shifted, a gentle slide.

But this time—

VUANK!

Kazuo moved with him. A mirrored pivot. He stayed in front.

Loid's smirk twitched upward.

Kazuo's eyes weren't locked on the man's face.

He was staring at his feet, what was behind this movement.

Another strike—dodge—and Kazuo copied again, gliding unnaturally far, more than he should have. Like he wasn't walking but slipping forward.

Where the opponent moved like water—calm, practiced, every step flowing from ingrained discipline—Kazuo moved like a brutal gust. Forced. Unrefined. But terrifyingly effective.

Like a violent yet gentle wind adapting to every obstacle, overwhelming and unpredictable, carving its own path by sheer necessity. It wasn't elegant—but it worked.

Any lack of technique or sophistication was gapped with his Quirk, allowing him more movement potential than what should have been normal.

The crowd stopped booing.

Stopped talking.

They stared.

VUANK. VUANK. VUANK.

The two blurred inside the cage—circling, dodging, striking, dancing. Never more than a step away.

Loid narrowed his eyes, his grin widening.

"...He's getting faster."

Kazuo's ski mask bulged slightly at the top. His hair floated.

The more they moved, the faster he adapted.

Across the ring, Loid could see it. Kazuo was learning the flow.

And then—

Waterworks leapt back.

Kazuo's pupils widened.

'There!'

He'd created space.

VUANK!

Kazuo surged forward, unnaturally fast—like he'd been caught in a slipstream. His head jerked back from the sudden shift in speed.

They were face to face.

Kazuo's foot was already raised, eyes wide and ready to strike...

"I give up."

The words dropped like a bomb.

Kazuo froze.

His foot hung an inch from the man's face.

The cloaked figure raised a hand.

The arena fell silent.

Even the commentator stammered, "Uh… it seems… the opponent has… forfeited?"

"BOOO!"

"Are you kidding me?!"

"I paid for that?!"

The crowd erupted in rage.

But the cloaked figure ignored them.

He turned to leave.

Halfway to the exit, he paused.

He stared long and hard at Kazuo.

Kazuo met his gaze, nodding.

The cloaked man returned it after a second, then disappeared into the crowd.

Kazuo ignored the noise as he returned to Loid.

Loid stared at him.

Kazuo raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You should've landed the hit."

"But he gave up."

"So what?"

Kazuo frowned. "That's not how I fight. I'm not a scumbag."

Loid scoffed. "Scumbag…"

He turned—only to stop as he noticed the cloaked opponent now staring at him from across the ring.

Loid narrowed his eyes. For a moment, a shimmer erupted in his pupils—X-ray vision.

"…Never seen that geezer in my life. So why the hell did he look so shocked?"

He turned back to Kazuo, exhaled.

"You did good."

Kazuo nodded.

"I think," Loid added, "that's the fastest you've ever gone."

"It is." Kazuo's voice was flat.

Loid stepped past him, walking to the ring.

Kazuo looked at his back.

Something in his expression softened—like he was fighting off something tight in his chest.

The commentator raised the mic.

"And now! Our Division 4 Champ returns! Give it up for… the Spectator's pick!"

Loid looked up to the stands.

There sat the hunched old man in the top hat.

Beside him… a new figure.

A man in a cloak, face hidden.

"The Spectator has chosen this match personally! And for good reason! Because his opponent tonight… is none other than…"

The lights darkened.

A spotlight shone.

"Division 5's reigning champion… MUSCULAR!"

Gasps.

Kazuo's eyes widened.

A massive figure stepped from the shadows.

Blond hair.

One red eye—glowing, wild.

Torn tank top over a grotesquely built body.

His arms—cords of muscle twisted like wet ropes—shifted and grew with every step.

Muscular grinned, cracking his neck.

"Y'all done yapping yet? I'm bored. Let's get to the fun part."

Kazuo gritted his teeth. "Loid… be careful."

Loid didn't respond.

He just walked into the cage.

Muscular stepped up, his hulking frame towering over him.

The commentator cleared the stage quickly, mumbling, "Y-You guys got this."

Muscular didn't wait.

His grin widened.

BANG

And then he vanished.

Loid's eyes widened.

Muscular, having leapt in the air, muscles writhing and encompassing his arm, layers and layers packing over itself, arm drawn back like a cannon.

Loid didn't move.

'What's...going on?'

His cells vibrating. His body locked. His instinct screamed one thing.

"Let's get this party started!"

So, he listened as he gritted his teeth, raising his forearm just in time—

BAAAAAAAAAAANG!!

The impact echoed like thunder.

Loid was launched, skidding backward, barely stopping at the cage wall.

Kazuo shouted, "Loid?!"

No response.

No, instead, Loid, his eyes wide, pupils twitching, stared down...at his arm.

'W-What is this?'

His sleeve was torn. The flesh discolored.

It had been a while since he'd felt this, and he'd mostly expected to not be acquainted with it for a long time.

"My arm...it's broken."

Pain.

"You survived? Hey...you're not so bad. More...let's keep going!"

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Not bad, we're close to hitting 200. Powerstones are going to be reset in 2 days but I have faith we'll get it before then.

Anyway, enjoy your new chapter.