Two days had passed since Eichi struck the deal with the Boss, yet his routine remained unchanged.
Right now, pushing himself toward a level that would have been expected of a Jōnin in Uzushio. His Uzumaki blood had already granted him good enough strength, stamina, and chakra reserves—easily at a high Chūnin level—but that still wasn't enough. Not for Uzushio. Not for their Jōnin.
Their standards had always been unforgivingly high. Unlike other hidden villages, they had no need to entangle themselves in Konohagakure's wars. They could stand their ground, shift the tides of battle on their own terms. Their self-sufficiency had been their strength—and in the end, their downfall.
Uzushio didn't throw its men into battle recklessly. They chose only the best to that wanted to fight on behalf of their ally, allowing only the strongest of each rank to participate in war. The rest? They were expected to watch, to learn, to copy. It was a system that prioritized quality over quantity. And for a time, it worked.
But the past was gone now. The ruins of Uzushio were nothing more than whispers in history, and all Eichi had left was what had been stored for him—a single scroll containing the entirety of Uzushio's sealing techniques, meant for the heir.
That was what slowed his progress. His strength wasn't the only thing lacking—his experience was as well. He hadn't fought nearly as much as he should have. His Chūnin promotion had been handed to him on the battlefield, but he knew the truth.
It wasn't a reward for exceptional skill—it was a necessity. As the casualties piled up, the chain of command had thinned, forcing promotions onto those who were left standing.
His skills, at least, spoke for themselves. His body and technique placed him well into high Chūnin levels. His expertise in Genjutsu and Kenjutsu could even place him at Tokubetsu Jōnin—a rank reserved for specialists in at least two fields. But in experience? He was still just your average Chūnin.
This ranking system was a product of the post- warring-states-war era, following the foundation of the major Shinobi villages. Gone were the days of simplistic alphabet-based classifications—those were now reserved for missing-nin and bounty hunters. The villages needed a system that was both professional and practical, one that could be understood by clients and contractors alike.
Eichi exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he walked through the U.A campus. Even now, he could feel the eyes on him—students whispering, curiosity flickering in their glances.
And with Kaina involved, the student representative of all people?
It was a recipe for gossip.
"You know, someone from my class asked me to include her in your training." She said, walking with him down the High school.
Eichi clicked his tongue, shoving his hands into his pockets as he continued walking. "Figures," he muttered. "After Aiko's fight, I'm surprised it's only one."
Kaina chuckled, her eyes watching the students as they passed. "Oh, don't worry," she said. "She's just the first brave enough to ask directly. The rest are just waiting to see if she survives it first."
He scoffed at that. "Smart fellas."
She hummed in agreement before tilting her head slightly. "So? What do you think?"
Eichi didn't answer immediately. His training wasn't just some casual workout—he wasn't some personal trainer for every hopeful trying to get stronger. If someone wanted in, they had to prove they were worth the effort.
"Depends," he finally said. "Who's the girl?"
"Shino Sosaki."
"Class B huh."
At that, Kaina perked up, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Oh? You knew her?" She leaned in slightly, a smirk playing at her lips. "Have something to tell me, Eichi?"
Eichi shot her a flat look. "Yeah. I know every damn first-year that's worth keeping an eye on. It's called knowing your competition."
Kaina chuckled, clearly entertained. "So defensive."
Eichi scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'm not defensive, I'm practical. Keeping track of potential threats isn't personal—it's just smart."
Kaina hummed again, clearly enjoying herself. "Well, whatever you say, strategist."
Eichi ignored the jab, his gaze fixed ahead. "So, why's she interested in my training?"
Kaina crossed her arms, thinking for a moment. "She didn't say much. Just that she saw how Aiko improved and wanted in." She glanced at him, smirking. "You're starting to get a reputation, you know."
Eichi exhaled through his nose. "Yeah, I noticed."
He wasn't exactly thrilled about it. The more eyes on him, the more questions. The more questions, the harder it would be to move unnoticed. He preferred working in the background, sharpening his skills and building his strength quietly. Fame was just a nuisance.
"She got potential?" he asked after a moment.
Kaina shrugged. "She's solid. Good instincts, decent combat skills. But I think she's looking for something more than just raw strength."
Eichi nodded. "Sigh. Quirk?"
"Telepath." Kaina said, watching his reaction carefully.
She wasn't surprised when his eyes narrowed slightly in thought. He was analyzing—breaking down possibilities, advantages, weaknesses. She had seen him do it before.
At first, when she asked Haru privately, he had told her something odd—that it was Eichi who had approached him for training. Aiko had just pushed herself into their routine without Eichi ever demanding it.
It made her curious. Why Haru? Why specifically him?
She had tried to piece it together, but it wasn't until she thought back to the whispers and gossip from a month ago that it finally clicked. Haru's quirk—an illusion ability tied to his eyes.
On the surface, it didn't seem all that useful for a hero. Flashy? Sure. Practical? Not so much. But to Eichi... it must have been something special.
After digging a little deeper, she found out why.
Eichi had apparently explained to Haru that, with the right combat strategy, his illusions could be deadly. If Haru could train his body to be fast and strong enough, his quirk could become a weapon no one saw coming. It wasn't about brute force—it was about subtlety, misdirection, deception. A strike they never even realized was coming.
It made her wonder—just how much did Eichi know about combat? About quirks? He saw things in people that they didn't see in themselves. He understood strengths and weaknesses on a level that felt unnatural. How much experience did someone need to think like that? How many battles had he fought?
I'm someone who's lost everything. Someone who's trying to protect what little I have left.
Kaina felt a shiver run down her spine.
Of course. How could someone have a normal view of the people around him... if he didn't live a life where everything was taken from him?
"You gonna take her in?" she finally asked, breaking the silence.
Eichi sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'll think about it," he muttered.
Kaina hummed. "That's not a no."
"It's not a yes either," he shot back.
She smirked. "You're predictable, you know? You act like you don't care, but the moment someone shows promise, you start scheming."
Eichi clicked his tongue in mild irritation. "It's not that simple. I don't train people for fun. It takes time—my time—and I won't waste it on someone who isn't serious."
Kaina raised an eyebrow. "And you think she isn't?"
"That's what I need to find out."
His mind was already turning. A telepath. Not a flashy quirk, but dangerous in the right hands. If she could read movements, anticipate attacks—hell, even disrupt concentration mid-fight—then her potential wasn't something to ignore.
What if she was this world's version of a Yamanaka? If she could control bodies or even skim thoughts, she'd be a game-changer. A card he couldn't afford to overlook.
Kaina tilted her head. "You gonna test her?"
Eichi exhaled through his nose. "Something like that."
A pause. Then, Kaina chuckled. "Man, you really are making a name for yourself. First Aiko, then Haru, now Sosaki... Before you know it, you're gonna have a whole damn squad."
"I'll take over the world with them," he scoffed.
Kaina laughed. "Yeah? Then how about adding me to that squad?"
Eichi gave her a sideways glance. "You planning to start training with me now?"
Kaina smirked. "What, think I can't keep up?"
"I don't know your quirk," he said flatly.
At that, Kaina's grin widened. She bent her arms, rolling her shoulders before plucking a strand of her own hair. With ease, she molded it into a small, sharp bullet.
Then, with a flick of her elbow, she fired.
The shot cracked against the ground, leaving behind a perfect indentation—smooth, precise, and shaped exactly like the hair-bullet she had formed.
Eichi stopped in his tracks. His mind screeched to a halt, processing what he'd just seen.
That wasn't normal.
A quirk that turned parts of her body into live ammunition? No, that wasn't the strange part—mutant-type quirks could do some insane things. But the mechanics behind it... That's what threw him.
Her arms had shifted, hardened like a metallic weapon, but there were no obvious signs of transformation. No visible plating, no shifting mass. Just... her. And yet, she'd fired that shot with enough force to leave an imprint in solid ground.
How?
His brain kicked into overdrive. Was it iron condensation from excess blood? Possible, but that didn't explain the propulsion. Was it muscle-generated? A built-in air compression system? Or... a secondary quirk altogether? But no—that was damn near impossible. Dual quirk users were rare, if not unheard of.
And then there was her hair—how the hell had it solidified like that? A biological hardening process? Some kind of Yang release like the fatties?
None of it made sense.
"Hello? Earth to Eichi?" Kaina waved a hand in front of his face, her amusement barely contained. "You still with me?"
Eichi blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He turned to Kaina. "That's... not what I expected."
Kaina chuckled, crossing her arms. "Yeah? You look like you just saw someone break the laws of physics."
"Because I might have," he muttered, eyes flicking back to the spot where her shot had landed. "How does it work?"
Kaina shrugged. "Beats me. I just do it."
Eichi exhaled sharply through his nose. Of course. Instinctive use. Most people didn't analyze their quirks on a technical level—they just accepted what they could do and rolled with it.
If she could fire her hair like bullets, then—logically—her entire body could be a potential arsenal. Could she reinforce other parts of herself? Generate larger projectiles? Increase her firing rate? And if there was a propulsion system, could it be refined for more precise control?
Damn it. Now he was interested.
"You wanna train?" he asked, still thinking.
Kaina smirked. "Wasn't that obvious?"
Eichi studied her for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. But you're going through the same process as the others. No exceptions."
"Wouldn't have it any other way," she shot back.
Eichi shook his head. Guess another test subject is on the way, huh.
---
The next day, just before dawn, Eichi stepped out of his dorm. Making his way toward the dorm grounds where they usually trained.
As much as he wanted to train away from prying eyes, wandering outside the dorms during lockdown hours wasn't exactly the smartest move—not in a school as heavily regulated as U.A prestige came with rules, after all.
So, he endured the silent stares. He could feel them, eyes peeking from the windows, watching. He sighed, brushing off the irritation as his gaze landed on the familiar figures waiting ahead.
Aiko and Haru. And the newcomers.
Over the past few days, Aiko and Haru had taken it upon themselves to arrive early, calling it a "warm-up," despite his repeated warnings. He had stopped bothering to lecture them—it was clear they weren't going to listen.
Minutes before Eichi's arrival, Kaina had dragged herself out of her dorm, groggy and half-asleep. Waking up at this ungodly hour was a nightmare, but watching Class C-1 steadily climb the rankings made her realize something—Eichi wasn't just training people. He was reshaping them.
The change seemed beneficial now, but in the long run? Who knew. And honestly? She didn't care. If it meant becoming a good hero—no, the best hero—then she'd do whatever it took to save as much of lives as possible.
As she reached the backyard, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes, she caught sight of Aiko and Haru already mid-warm-up. Stretches. Push-ups. Jogging laps.
Even just watching them made her feel exhausted.
Still, she wasn't about to back down.
Slapping her cheeks to wake herself up, she walked over to them with a grin. "Morning!"
Aiko glanced over mid-stretch, barely breaking her rhythm. "Look who finally decided to join us."
Haru smiled as he finished his push-ups. "Good morning to you too, Kaina-senpai."
Kaina smirked, rolling her shoulders. "Didn't think I'd actually show up, huh?"
Aiko scoffed, switching legs in her stretch. "Figured you'd hit snooze a few more times."
Haru chuckled. "You do look half-asleep."
Kaina shot him a glare but couldn't exactly argue—her body was still protesting the early hour.
She exhaled sharply and started stretching. "Whatever. I'm here now, so let's just get on with it."
Before Aiko or Haru could reply, a shift in the atmosphere made them all turn.
Eichi had arrived.
His steps were loud enough, hands in his pockets, expression as unreadable as ever. He wasn't particularly imposing, but something about him made the air feel heavier.
Kaina straightened, trying to shake off the strange sense of anticipation settling in her chest. "Took your sweet time," she quipped.
Eichi didn't even glance at her. Instead, his gaze swept over them, assessing.
"Can you come down already?" he asked.
Hearing the question, confused Kaina, Aiko, and Haru. They instinctively glanced around, searching for whoever he was addressing.
And now that Kaina thought about it, she frowned. Wait. Where's Sosaki?
Before the thought could fully settle, a figure dropped from the branches above, landing soundlessly in front of Eichi.
Shino Sosaki straightened, her movements silent and still. She didn't speak, but her gaze met his—calm, void, and eerily unreadable.
Then, the voice echoed in Eichi's mind.
"It's an honor to finally meet you, Eichi Uzuchi."
Eichi raised an eyebrow. Telepathic communication. Subtle and effective.
Then, ever so slowly, a small smirk tugged at his lips.
"Good, now, Aiko, give them the regime that I gave you when you first started. And Haru, do the usual."
Aiko blinked, frowning. "Wait, hold on—she was there the whole time?"
Her gaze flickered to the tree branches above, then back to Shino, suspicion creeping in. I didn't even feel her?
She glanced at Haru for confirmation, tilting her head in question. He merely shrugged, shaking his head.
Even Haru hadn't noticed her?
That was unsettling. Aiko had been refining her ability to subtly disperse wind energy—not just for training, but to act as a form of sensory field around her. If someone moved within range, she should have noticed. And yet, Shino had completely slipped past her awareness.
On the other hand, Kaina looked far more relaxed, barely reacting. Instead, she simply smiled, already accustomed to the girl's antics.
Now that she thought about it...
Her eyes flicked between Eichi and Shino.
They have the same vibe.
"Shino! Good morning!" Kaina greeted, waving cheerfully.
But before the telepath could respond, Eichi's voice cut any bullshit that was about to happen.
"Did I stutter, Aiko?" His tone was flat, leaving no room for argument. "Get to work. We don't have much time."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and motioned for Haru to follow him toward another section of the yard—where the trees were thicker. Perfect for training. Perfect for testing his theory.
Aiko clicked her tongue in irritation, but she didn't argue. She turned back toward Kaina and Shino.
"Fine. But don't think I won't be keeping an eye on you," Aiko muttered under her breath.
Shino, for her part, simply nodded.
Aiko exhaled sharply, clapping her hands together. "Alright, listen up. The first thing Eichi had me do when I started was build a foundation. That means endurance, control, and discipline. So for today, you're gonna die—hundred push-ups, pull-ups, and squats. Then jog five kilometers—about fifteen laps around the field."
Kaina's jaw nearly hit the floor. "You've gotta be kidding me."
Aiko smirked. "Dead serious."
Kaina groaned, rubbing her temples. "This is insanity. You expect us to survive that?"
Aiko tilted her head. "Oh? You wanna tell Eichi you can't handle it?"
Kaina shut her mouth real quick.
Shino, on the other hand, remained silent. Without hesitation, she dropped to the ground and started her push-ups.
Aiko narrowed her eyes. Not even a complaint?
Kaina groaned, stretching her arms. "This is insane... I didn't sign up for military training."
Aiko rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck. "Then quit. Nobody's forcing you."
Kaina scowled but said nothing, lowering herself onto the ground and starting her own set of push-ups.
As the minutes passed, Aiko couldn't help but sneak glances at Shino. Her form was perfect. Her breathing steady. She wasn't just keeping up—she was pacing herself.
Aiko frowned. Yeah, something's up with her.
---
In a secluded section of the dorm's backyard, where a small forest stretched into the distance, Eichi stood with his arms crossed, overseeing Haru's training.
For the past month, Haru had been making steady progress. His exercises, combined with Eichi's guidance, had pushed him beyond his limits.
More importantly, he had learned to circulate his energy throughout his body rather than just his eyes. It wasn't quite at the level where he could pull off a full Transformation Jutsu, but it was a step in the right direction.
However, despite all his efforts, Haru still couldn't release that energy externally like he did through his eyes. His body resisted the idea, like an instinctual barrier refusing to budge. Even so, Eichi knew—if Haru couldn't create physical clones, then at the very least, he could refine his techniques into a Genjutsu based one.
And so, for the past hour, Haru continued his grueling training, maintaining his energy flow while doing push-ups. Sweat dripped from his brow, his muscles burned, but he kept going.
Just then, Eichi's voice cut through the silence. "Alright, Haru. Come here. I have something for you to do."
Haru, panting but still focused, looked up. His body had changed significantly over the past month—from a beginner struggling with basic exercises to someone who could push through fatigue.
"O-of course," he managed between breaths, walking toward Eichi.
Eichi reached into his pocket and pulled out a small slip of what looked like paper, placing it carefully on the ground before stepping back.
"Now, use your eyes on this," he instructed.
Haru blinked. "Huh?"
"Just do it."
Still confused, Haru shrugged before focusing his energy through his eyes, casting an illusion over the paper.
Normally, illusions affected people—creating false images, misleading the senses. But this time, he didn't feel the pull it usually would.
The paper reacted.
A glowing, blue cube began to rise from its surface, forming a solid construct. Its base remained the slip of paper.
Haru's eyes widened in shock. He looked up at Eichi. "What was—"
Eichi cut him off. "Take off your weighted vest."
Still stunned, Haru hesitated. His gaze flickered between Eichi and the glowing cube before sighing and doing as he was told. He unfastened the heavy black vest and let it drop. A dull thud echoed in the quiet clearing.
As Haru adjusted to the sudden lightness, Eichi was already pulling another slip of paper from his back pocket—the same kind of tag he always carried, hidden beneath his uniform.
"Haru, do you remember the illusion I put you through?"
Haru glanced up. "Uh, yeah? What about it?"
Eichi held up the tag. "That illusion? That was just part of my ability. Strength? That comes from training. But my actual quirk... is seal-making."
Before Haru could react, Eichi pressed the tag against his chest.
A strange sensation flooded Haru's body—a sudden weight, foreign and overwhelming. His knees buckled, and in the next moment, he collapsed to the ground. Panic flashed in his eyes.
"Eichi—?! What the hell!?"
Eichi blinked. "Oh. Oops. Forgot to adjust the weight."
Casually, he pulled out a brush, deactivated the seal, and scribbled something on it before reactivating it again.
"Alright, that should be better."
The overwhelming force eased, but the weight didn't disappear. Haru could still feel it pressing down on him—heavier than the vest, but not unbearable. It forced his muscles to adjust.
Testing his balance, Haru pushed himself to his feet. His breath was still uneven, but there was something else now.
A challenge.
"Alright," he started. "Now that you're set, get back to training. I fully expect you to either throw up your breakfast or have Aiko drag your sorry ass back to the dorms when we're done."
Haru swallowed. Hard.
He had a feeling Eichi wasn't joking.
Whith that, Eichi turned his back and walked toward the girls.
As Eichi arrived, his gaze immediately landed on Aiko—and more importantly, the fact that she wasn't wearing her weighted vest.
He was just about to chastise her when he caught sight of her expression.
A slight frown creased her face, her eyes locked onto the new girl.
Following her gaze, Eichi took in the scene before them. Shino was running, her pace steady, her breathing controlled—while Kaina was sprawled out on the ground, looking half-dead.
Raising an eyebrow, he stepped closer to Aiko. "Quite a specimen, huh?"
Aiko turned to him, her frown deepening. "She's not normal."
Eichi snorted. "We live in a world of quirks and magic, Aiko. What exactly did you expect?"
"That's not what I meant." This time, she fully faced him, her tone sharper. "None of us noticed her. I could overlook that if she had a quirk that let her go unnoticed, but her only ability is telepathy. And to make matters worse—she's stronger than me and Haru."
Eichi smirked. "Oh? Is that Aiko actually admitting someone could beat her ass?"
Aiko shot him a glare, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I'm being serious, Eichi."
Eichi's smirk didn't waver, but his eyes flicked back to Shino, watching her movements carefully. Controlled. Efficient. Not a single wasted motion.
He hummed. "Alright. Let's say you're right. What's bothering you more? The fact that she's stronger than you, or the fact that you never noticed her?"
Aiko clicked her tongue, folding her arms. "Both. But the second one more."
Eichi nodded, his gaze narrowing. "That makes two of us."
Aiko blinked, slightly taken aback. "Wait... You didn't notice her either?"
"Not at first," he admitted. "I had a hunch, but I wasn't sure until I called her out."
That made Aiko stiffen. If even Eichi—who was practically paranoid when it came to noticing things—had been thrown off, then that was a problem.
A big one.
"So," Aiko muttered, glancing back at Shino, who continued running without breaking a sweat. "What are you gonna do about it?"
Eichi's smirk deepened. "Simple. I'm gonna make you two fight."
Aiko blinked. "What?"
"You heard me," Eichi said, his tone nonchalant. "A spar. You and Shino. Right now."
Aiko narrowed her eyes. "You're joking."
Eichi tilted his head. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
Aiko clenched her fists, glancing back at Shino. The girl was still running, completely unaware—or maybe completely aware—of their conversation.
"Tch. Fine," Aiko muttered.
Eichi only smirked.
He turned away from Aiko, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Shino! You're up!"
Shino skidded to a stop immediately, turning to face them.
Kaina, who had been half-dying on the ground, groaned. "Haaah? Already? Can't I get a break first?"
Eichi ignored her. He stepped forward, hands in his pockets, as Shino approached.
"You're fighting Aiko," he said simply.
Shino tilted her head slightly, her blank expression unreadable. "Can I fight you instead?"
Eichi's smirk didn't falter. "Nah. If you can beat her, I'll consider it." With that, he stepped back, giving space for the two to face off.
At his words, Shino's face turned eerily cold. Her thought process was a mystery to everyone present, but her next words sent a chill through the air—literally.
"I would prefer it to be you," she murmured, "after all..."
It wasn't the statement itself that made everyone freeze—it was the shift in the atmosphere.
The temperature dropped in an instant. It was subtle at first, creeping in like an unseen presence, until even Kaina, whose body still burned from exhaustion, jolted upright at the sudden chill.
Aiko felt it too. But what made her blood run cold wasn't just the air. It was Eichi's expression.
His usual blank mask remained, but his eyes—those unsettlingly sharp, perceptive eyes—had darkened, the usual deep violet almost swallowed by something else.
Aiko had seen many faces of Eichi before. The smug, the analytical, the unimpressed. But this... this was different.
This was void. Empy of all sense of humanity.
And that scared her more than anything.
Then, those words.
...I may be shameless, but I am not without pride.
Those words, those very words that made Eichi frozen mid-step.
It wasn't just a phrase. It was something old, ingrained, a doctrine that had shaped him long before he ever set foot in this world.
The words of a Shinobi.
Aiko knew something was off about Shino the moment she met her. But now, even Eichi seemed thrown. That never happened.
Eichi had been skeptical about her from the start. Her ability to completely evade detection—not just by normal people, but by Aiko, even by Haru—was beyond anything he had encountered in this world. It wasn't just a Quirk.
And now, he was certain.
Shino was trained. Disciplined. She carried the essence of something he recognized all too well.
While he was certain she wasn't dual-quirked, there was something about her—an instinctive feeling that hinted at a specific kind of upbringing.
After all, if this world had myths and fantasies about shinobi, wasn't it only logical that they had once existed? Perhaps they still did.
As a shinobi himself, Eichi knew that traditions weren't easily discarded. Their codes, their mottos—once ingrained, they never truly left. They were etched into the bones, woven into the very essence of those who followed the path.
He had once tried to deny that part of himself, that of the Uzumaki's, to suppress it. But after his conversation with Kaina on the rooftop, he had refrained from doing so.
However, he may have been in a different world, but his instincts remained as awake as ever.
And those instincts told him something was off about Shino.
He had listened carefully to the chatter of this world, paying attention to its heroes and history. And when he first heard the name Edgeshot, the so-called Ninja Hero, it only solidified his suspicions.
There was truth in the stories these students devoured so eagerly—Chinese cultivators, legendary shinobi, fighting styles that defied logic. They were all drawn from the same foundation. Chakra. Ki. Quirk energy.
Different names. Same principles.
But there was one thing he wasn't sure of.
He had no way of knowing the true scope of the shinobi team that had been transported with him. Were they scattered, surviving as individuals? Or had they already begun laying the groundwork for a bigger goal? Grooming recruits, forming a new shinobi village?
Eichi wasn't naive. With the level of surveillance and advanced technology in this world, forming an organization of that scale without drawing attention would be next to impossible.
But impossibility had never stopped a shinobi before.
Eichi's violet eyes flickered, an unnatural gleam catching in them as he turned his head slightly to glance at her silently.
"Follow me."
Just those two words.
Aiko didn't need to be told once. In fact, she couldn't even if she wanted to. Something in his tone, in the sheer presence he exuded at that moment, held her in place, her feet rooted to the ground as though gravity itself had tightened its grip on her. Even her lips refused to move.
And yet, despite the sudden shift in tension, Shino, standing off to the side, smirked. Not because she was unaffected—no, she felt the same weight pressing down on her—but because she understood exactly what this meant.
Things about to go down, and fast.
By the time they reached the training grounds, Haru was mid-movement.
"Haru," Eichi called out, his voice cutting through the evening air. "Train where the girls are."
At first, Haru merely glanced up, ready to answer casually, but the moment his eyes met Eichi's, the words died in his throat.
That look.
He had seen it before.
Haru's gaze flickered to the girl beside him, noting the barely perceptible tension in Eichi's posture. He didn't need to be told what had happened. Someone had hit too close into something buried within Eichi's life.
Without a word, Haru turned and walked away, heading toward the section where the girls were training. He knew better than to interfere.
Eichi's back now fully faced the girl, his stance relaxed yet charged, like a drawn bow waiting to be released.
"How do you know those words?" he asked, voice low. Then, after a beat, he added, "No, scratch that. Who sent you?"
The girl exhaled slowly.
"No one, really," she replied, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the pressure suffocating the air around her. "I just wanted to see how a fellow enthusiast in our ways was—especially when I've never heard of your clan's name before."
Her body tensed slightly, energy beginning to circulate through her limbs.
"But I'd guess that's just a cover name, right?"
As the words left her lips, the air thickened, pressing down like an invisible force. The weight of it was suffocating, constricting, wrapping around her lungs like unseen chains.
Her fingers twitched, instinct screaming at her to prepare for an attack.
But Eichi had yet to move.
And that, more than anything, was what unsettled her most.
"You sure?" he finally said.
This time, he was fully facing her.
"Good," he nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I prefer it this way."
And then—cold metal kissed her throat.
Her breath hitched.
The Eichi standing before her? Gone. Nothing but a lingering wisp of smoke curling where he had been.
Impossible.
She had fought villains, and even her kind before. She had been trained to detect the smallest shifts in presence, to recognize the tells of movement no matter how minute.
Yet, she hadn't seen him move.
And now, a blade pressed against her jugular.
This wasn't a simple quirk. Maybe the Kawarimi?
Her gut had been right.
From the moment she transferred into U.A, something had felt... off.
Nezu himself had approved the transfer. Personally.
A strange move from the director, who was infamous for his meticulous surveillance and obsession with security and meritocracy.
It had happened just a few weeks ago. One evening, she received word from her father—an order, really.
"If you want your place back in the family, go to U.A"
It was a demand, not a request.
Shino had always despised the old traditions. Unlike her father, unlike her ancestors, she had no desire to remain hidden in the shadows. She wanted to be a hero, not some nameless figure in the dark.
Edgeshot had done it. He had broken away and built a name for himself in the light.
Why couldn't she?
But the moment she stepped through U.A's gates, she knew something was wrong.
Nezu had been waiting for her in his office, smiling in that eerie, all-knowing way of his.
And then came the real reason for her sudden transfer.
"Observe the new student, Eichi Uzuchi."
That was the mission. Simple. Direct.
But the very fact that Nezu needed someone like her—someone trained in deception, in stealth, in combat far beyond U.A's curriculum—to watch him?
That was anything but simple.
And sure enough, the boy wasn't normal.
He had done the impossible. In just one month, he had turned two ordinary students into fighters. He hadn't just trained them—he had transformed them. Strengthened them at a pace that defied logic.
And then there was the surveillance.
Nezu's orders had been clear.
"Oversee his movements. If necessary, watch his chamber through the night. You will be exempt from classes the following day."
The first few nights, nothing unusual happened.
But then, two nights ago, something changed.
She had been doing her usual check-in, just before lights-out, when she noticed him.
Eichi, moving silently through the dorms.
At first, it seemed harmless.
But nothing was harmless when it came to someone of her kind.
So she followed.
He walked through the dark corridors, down the stairs, slipping past the front doors with an ease that spoke of experience. And then—into the forest.
She waited.
A minute passed.
Then, he returned.
But when she focused, she saw it—smoke, faint but undeniable, drifting up into the sky from deep within the woods.
It was in that moment she made her decision.
She had discarded her cover.
She had given in to her curiosity, her parchedness for a worthy fight.
And now?
Now, she regretted it.
"Let me say this again," Eichi murmured, his voice just beside her ear. His blade pressed deeper, just enough for her to feel the bite of cold steel against her skin. "And this time, choose your words carefully."
His breath was steady. Calm.
"Who sent you to me?"