The doppelgänger's hand clamped around his throat, not crushing, just enough to hold him still. The black mass writhed up its arms like rot given shape, pulsing and flexing with a mind of its own. Patches of scaly flesh peeled and twisted like it was shedding
something old.
The void didn't move. It bent. Cracked. Like glass under pressure.
Then, without warning It broke open.
Images poured in—vivid and brutal. Not memories. Fears.
Akuma, face contorted in pain, staggered through flame with one arm blown off. His trademark grin gone—replaced by silent horror as black fire consumed him.
Kaze lay crumpled in a crater, his weapons shattered, blood leaking from his ears. His final expression wasn't pain. It was a shock. Like he didn't expect to die.
Yukiko's body was frozen mid-air, surrounded by crystalized spikes—her lifeless eyes still glowing faint light, her hand reaching toward him.
And Lyra—pinned against a wall, eyes wide as her own shadows tore her apart. Her mouth opened to scream, but no sound came. Just blood.
Why didn't you protect us?
"STOP!" he roared, flame bursting from his hand—but it vanished the second it left his skin, swallowed by the void.
The doppelgänger leaned in.
"You think your strength will protect them?" it hissed. "You think playing hero will give you power?"
Itami's breath hitched.
"You're no hero. You're just a child pretending to be something you're not."
"Stop it," he muttered. "They're not—"
The doppelgänger smiled wider. Its red eyes gleamed now. Hungry.
"This is the truth you're too weak to face."
Flashes kept coming. Faster. Sharper.
His hands soaked in blood. His mask shattered. His family crest burned away.
A battlefield littered with bodies—and his friends were among them. His classmates.
And above it all, something moved in the smoke. Massive. Silent.
Watching.
He heard the roar.
A sound so deep it didn't echo—it shook the whole void.
Another memory.
His father, Icarus—tall, standing in the courtyard under blood-red moonlight. The air shimmered with heat. His eyes locked on something unseen.
Then came the roar.
A sound Itami had never remembered—until now.
The scream of the dragon. A howl of fury.
The memory fractured—like a dream yanked too soon—and the doppelgänger was suddenly right in front of him, face inches away, its smile now stretched far too wide than any regular human smile.
"Do you even remember who killed your father?"
The question tore through him. His heart dropping into his stomach. He didn't have an answer.
He tried to stagger back but couldnt, breath sharp and ragged.
"No one ever told me—"
"Because they're lying." The voice deepened, echoing now with something older. Ancient. "You think your enemies are villains? You haven't met the ones who raised you."
The black mass holding him started to pierce his skin, creeping across his body as the doppelgänger hurled him deeper into the void.
"You were never loved. And you never will be. One day, you'll wake up and realize that. But that day will be too late."
Itami drifted, speechless, as his copy faded into the dark.
Itami jolted upright with a sharp gasp, heart slamming against his ribs. He was back in the arena, legs shaking.
Sweat dripped from his jaw. His hands were clenched into fists, fingernails digging into his palms.
Looking around, he saw Ojiro wearing the same confused expression—watching as the purple-haired student walked away.
"Hey... do you remember being on his team?" Ojiro asked, glancing back toward the boy.
"...No" Itami wiped his face, anger and confusion slowly bubbling beneath the surface.
A moment of silence passed between them before Present Mic's voice boomed, announcing the hour break for lunch.
Itami didn't move. He looked around the crowd and spotted Akuma.
He was being interviewed by a reporter, wide smile and all.
He's too busy soaking up the attention.
Itami gritted his teeth and followed where the others were heading. Walking through the halls, he kept his eyes on the purple-haired student ahead. Just as he rounded a corner, Kirishima stepped in front of him.
"Man, you were quick! I saw you stealing headbands like it was nothing, bro! That was awesome!"
Itami didn't respond. He kept watching Shinso slip into a nearby room.
He brushed past Kirishima, bumping shoulders as he walked.
"Hey, man... you alright?" Kirishima called after him.
Itami ignored it.
After walking down the halls, he entered the room and saw only Shinso sitting at a table.
"What the hell did you do to me?" Itami asked, voice low and sharp.
Shinso looked up slowly, not surprised. His posture didn't change.
"I asked a question," Itami said again, stepping closer. "What the hell did you do to me?"
Shinso leaned back in his chair, expression cool. "I didn't do anything. You don't remember? We formed a team. We passed the second round."
Itami's fist clenched tighter. His nails dug into his palms, almost breaking skin.
"What, no 'thank you'?" Shinso added with a smirk.
CRACK.
Itami's fist shot forward before he could stop it. It landed clean on Shinso's jaw, sending him stumbling into the table with a grunt. A chair tipped over.
For a second, there was only Shinso's ragged breath. The sound of impact. And Itami's fury filling the space like fire.
Then—
The door swung open. Two general course students froze in the doorway.
"...Did he just—?"
Someone from the hallway shouted, "What was that?!"
A beat later, more footsteps echoed. The hallway came alive.
Shinso wiped the corner of his mouth. No blood. But the smugness had vanished. His eyes locked onto Itami.
Itami didn't say a word.
He stood in the doorway's light, motionless. Leashed rage in his eyes.
Whispers climbed in the hall.
"Wait—isn't that guy from the hero course?"
"Did he just hit Shinso?"
"Weren't they on the same team?"
"What the hell's his problem?"
"Yo, did you see his face? He looked like he was ready to kill."
Itami heard none of it.
He walked toward the door.
"Get the hell out of my way." His voice was cold. Flat.
The students stepped aside.
He walked through the hallway as the whispers continued behind him—but he didn't stop.
After the lunch break, Itami returned to the field and stood near Ojiro. The purple haired student's face was a mix of silent anger and quiet pain.
Itami couldn't focus on Present Mic's voice announcing the final round. What echoed in his mind were the images—Yukiko, Lyra, Kaze, Akuma.
All the people he cared about—dying. Over and over.
What snapped him back was Ojiro's voice.
"I'm withdrawing."
Gasps rippled across the class. Itami turned.
He's really quitting?
"Ojiro, why? This is your chance to get scouted," Iida said.
"The cavalry battle... I don't remember anything. Not until the very end. It's probably his quirk that did it," Ojiro said, glancing briefly toward Shinso.
Some of the students turned.
"I know this is a great opportunity," Ojiro added. "And I know how stupid it looks to throw it away..."
He clenched his fist.
"But everyone else in the finals made it with their own strength. I didn't."
"You're making way too much of this," Hagakure said, trying to be supportive. "You do have what it takes."
"No. I'm talking about my pride."
He sighed, lowering his head into his hands. "Also, why are all the girls dressed like cheerleaders?"
Wait... what?
Itami turned.
Sure enough—Class 1-A's girls stood in cheerleader uniforms.
His face flushed slightly when he saw Momo, but he shook it off.
This school is weird...
Another student from Class 1-B stepped forward and withdrew too. The crowd murmured, exchanging opinions until Midnight cracked her whip.
"How naive and green, my boys..."
Another whip crack.
"That turns me on! Ojiro, Shoda—you're out!"
An awkward silence followed.
As the brackets were adjusted, Itami looked across the crowd and met eyes with Akuma. His smile was smaller now. He lifted a hand in a wave.
Itami just stared at him—then turned away.
Midnight's voice rang out again.
"Take a look at your opponents, my dears! These are your matchups!"
A massive screen lit up.
ROUND THREE: ITAMI vs TETSUTETSU
Itami's eyes narrowed slightly. He took in the name. The face. The crowd. All of it washed over him like static.
Metal skin. Headstrong. Loud.
That's all he remembered.
Across the field, Tetsutetsu rolled his shoulders and grinned like he'd already won.
The sky was clear. No clouds. The sun hung above the stadium. The crowd roared in the distance, but behind the walls, the world was quiet.
Itami wandered without direction, trying to clear the static in his head. Shinso's smirk. The red eyes. The visions. The whispers.
He turned a corner looking for silence but found someone already there.
Under a twisted tree sat Tokoyami, arms crossed, eyes closed. Dark Shadow loomed behind him, restless.
"...There he is again," the shadow rasped.
Tokoyami opened his eyes, calm. Measured.
"You're not hiding your weight very well."
Itami didn't respond.
Dark Shadow shifted. "He feels... wrong."
Tokoyami steadied the creature with one hand.
"Apologies. He's grown sensitive lately."
"Or maybe he's just picking up on something real," Itami said.
Tokoyami tilted his head slightly.
"There's something in you," he said. "Something that doesn't like being caged."
Itami looked away. "What does that make me?"
Tokoyami paused. Watched a leaf fall.
"Careful not to lose track of who you are," he said quietly. "Sometimes the shadow doesn't stop where you end."
Itami met his gaze briefly.
An announcement echoed overhead, calling all finalists to report to the arena.
Tokoyami stood. "Good luck, Itami."
Itami turned toward the tunnel.
The hallway was quiet, lit with sharp white fluorescents. Present Mic's voice echoed faintly from the stadium
"FIRST MATCH—MIDORIYA VS SHINSO!"
Itami walked slowly, steps steady, body ready—but mind still somewhere else.
Then—
"Itami?"
He stopped.
He didn't need to turn to know the voice.
Momo.
She had changed out of the cheer outfit, now in her U.A. gym uniform. Practical. Composed.
She stepped beside him, keeping a respectful distance.
"I wasn't sure if I should say anything," she said, voice calm. "But... you've looked like you're somewhere else all day."
Itami didn't speak.
She waited.
"I know you like to be alone," she continued. "But alone doesn't mean invisible."
A beat of silence passed between them.
"I just wanted you to know... some of us see you. Even when you're not looking back."
Itami's shoulders shifted. Subtle. Barely a twitch.
But he nodded—faint, slow.
Momo smiled gently.
"Good luck out there," she said, and turned to leave.
Itami stood in place for a few seconds longer, then stepped forward—toward the light, toward the noise, toward the ring.