The third day of field training started like any other.

  Boa woke early, stretched through the residual soreness in her body, and ran through her morning exercises before meeting Uwabami at the agency. The Snake Hero was waiting in the common area, scrolling through her phone with an unusually tense expression.

  "Hancock. You're here early. Good." Uwabami set her phone down. "We need to talk before training today."

  Boa sat across from her, immediately sensing the shift in mood. "What happened?"

  "Have you been following the news about the League of Villains?"

  "The group from the USJ attack. Yes. There have been reports of increased activity in Musutafu over the past week."

  "Those reports just escalated." Uwabami turned her phone toward Boa, showing a news alert. "Last night, three small-time villains were found dead in an alley near the waterfront. Their bodies were drained of life—completely, utterly drained. No Quirk signature matched anything in the police database."

  Boa studied the report, her analytical mind already working. "The League of Villains?"

  "That's what the police suspect. But the method doesn't match anything we've seen from them before." Uwabami's expression was grave. "This is escalation, Hancock. They're no longer just testing the waters. They're making moves."

  "What does this mean for us?"

  "It means we need to be more vigilant on patrol. And it means I need to accelerate your training." Uwabami stood. "Today we're skipping image work entirely. Combat only. And I'm bringing in someone to spar with you."

  "Who?"

  As if on cue, the door opened and a familiar figure walked in. Boa's eyes widened slightly—the only sign of her surprise.

  Eraserhead. Aizawa.

  Their teacher was still showing signs of his injuries from the USJ—the bandages were mostly gone, but dark circles hung beneath his eyes and he moved with a slight stiffness.

  "Aizawa-sensei," Boa said, standing instinctively.

  "Sit down, Hancock. You're not in my classroom." But Aizawa's tired eyes held a hint of warmth. "I'm here because Uwabami asked for a sparring partner who knows your fighting style. And because I need the exercise myself."

  "Your teacher has been filling me in on your combat history," Uwabami explained. "He's the best person to help you refine your new techniques under pressure."

  "Also," Aizawa added, settling into a chair with a wince, "I wanted to see what you've been developing this week. Word travels fast in the hero community. Apparently you petrified a villain on your second day."

  "It was a convenience store robbery," Boa said.

  "Still impressive for a first-year." Aizawa's expression was unreadable. "Show me what you've got."

  They moved to the training facility. Uwabami set up the space while Aizawa stripped off his coat and rolled up his sleeves, revealing the goggles pushed up onto his forehead.

  "Rules," he said flatly. "No emotional manipulation on me. Everything else is fair game. I want to see your techniques, your combat instincts, your adaptability. And I'll be using my Erasure Quirk, so be prepared for your Quirk to disappear at any moment."

  Boa's stomach dropped slightly. She'd trained extensively against opponents who could counter her Quirk, but Erasure was different. It didn't counter—it simply removed her abilities entirely.

  "Understood."

  "BEGIN."

  Aizawa moved first—faster than his tired demeanor suggested. He was experienced, controlled, every movement efficient and purposeful. He closed the distance between them rapidly.

  Boa enhanced her legs and dodged, sliding sideways. She tried to project adoration into a Perfume Femur kick aimed at his arm.

  Aizawa's goggles flashed and her Quirk vanished.

  Her kick still connected, but without the enhancement or the emotional imbuing, it was just a regular strike. Aizawa blocked it easily with his forearm and used his free hand to swipe at her.

  "Your first instinct was to kick," he observed, not even slightly out of breath. "Too predictable. Try again."

  His goggles blinked and her Quirk returned.

  Boa reassessed immediately. She couldn't rely on her Quirk being available. She needed to factor in the possibility of Erasure at any point during her attack.

  She feinted left, drawing Aizawa's attention, then sprang upward. Mid-air, she formed the heart shape with her hands.

  "Slave Arrow!"

  Dozens of petrifying arrows burst from the glowing heart, flying toward Aizawa from multiple angles.

  His goggles flashed.

  Every single arrow dissolved mid-flight, the emotional charge evaporating the instant her Quirk was erased.

  "Interesting," Aizawa said, watching the arrows dissipate. "Slave Arrow relies entirely on the emotional imbuing. Without it, they're just... air."

  Boa landed, processing this weakness. Her Slave Arrow was powerful but completely dependent on her Quirk being active. If an opponent like Aizawa could erase her at the right moment...

  "You're seeing it now," Aizawa said. "Your techniques are devastating when your Quirk is active, but you have almost nothing when it isn't. That's a critical vulnerability."

  "So what do I do about it?"

  "You develop techniques that work without your Quirk too. Physical skills, combat fundamentals. You're enhanced when your Quirk is active, yes, but even without it, you need to be dangerous." He shifted his stance. "Again. This time, assume your Quirk won't be there. Fight me with your body."

  They sparred again. Without her Quirk, Boa was still a skilled fighter—years of solitary training had given her excellent fundamentals. But against Aizawa's experience and precision, she was outmatched.

  He caught her arm, twisted, and swept her legs out from under her. She hit the ground hard but rolled immediately, coming back to her feet.

  "Better. But your footwork needs work." Aizawa extended a hand and helped her up. "You rely too heavily on your Quirk for speed and strength. Build those as independent skills."

  They trained for another hour, alternating between Quirk-active and Quirk-erased scenarios. It was grueling—Aizawa was relentless in his teaching style, never letting her settle into comfort.

  But Boa learned. Faster than she expected.

  "You're adapting quickly," Aizawa noted during a water break. "That's always been your strength—observation and adjustment. You just need to apply it more broadly."

  "Thank you, sensei."

  "Don't thank me. Thank yourself. You're doing the work." He paused, then added quietly, "You've changed since the Sports Festival. More confident. More willing to use your abilities fully."

  "I'm trying."

  "Keep trying. The League of Villains is getting bolder. And when they strike again—because they will—you and your classmates are going to need every advantage you can get."

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  The weight of his words settled over her like a blanket of cold air.

  After Aizawa left, Uwabami ran Boa through intensive Slave Arrow drills.

  "We need to increase your output and range," she said, watching as Boa fired another barrage. "Right now, thirty-five arrows at twenty-five meters. I want fifty arrows at forty meters by the end of the week."

  "That's a significant increase."

  "You're a first-year student who's already petrified a villain in the field and developed a technique that can affect non-living objects. Significant increases are what we're aiming for." Uwabami crossed her arms. "Now, the permanent petrification. Show me where you are with that."

  Boa selected a heavy concrete training block and delivered a focused Perfume Femur: Gorgon Strike, pushing the adoration deep and hard. The block turned to stone—darker, more complete than before.

  She stepped back and waited. One minute. Two. Five.

  The block remained stone.

  "Mezameyo," she said, placing her hand on it and concentrating.

  The reversal came after about ten seconds—slower than the temporary version, requiring more focused effort.

  "It's getting more permanent each time," Boa reported. "The longer I focus during the initial strike, the harder it is to reverse. I'm getting closer to true permanent petrification, but it's still technically reversible if I try hard enough."

  "Good. That means you have a safety valve." Uwabami examined the block as it returned to normal. "Now, here's an important question. Can you make Slave Arrow carry permanent petrification?"

  Boa considered this. "I haven't tried. The arrows are already carrying adoration—the question is whether I can make that adoration deep enough to trigger permanent petrification rather than temporary."

  "Try it."

  Boa took a breath, centered herself, and formed the heart. This time, she poured more into it—not just adoration, but intense, consuming devotion. She imagined someone so captivated by the emotion that they could never break free.

  "Slave Arrow!"

  The arrows that burst from the heart were different. Darker pink, almost crimson at the edges. They struck the training dummies across the field with devastating force.

  The petrification that followed was immediate and deep. Within seconds, the dummies were completely stone—and the gray was that same dark, complete shade she'd achieved with the Gorgon Strike.

  She waited. One minute. Two. Five. Ten.

  Nothing reverted.

  "It worked," Uwabami breathed. "Permanently."

  "Mezameyo," Boa said, approaching the nearest dummy and placing her hand on it.

  It took thirty seconds of intense concentration to reverse. But it did reverse, slowly, the stone receding to reveal the training dummy beneath.

  Uwabami watched with an expression that was equal parts awe and caution. "Hancock, you realize what you've just created, don't you?"

  "A permanent restraint technique. For targets that cannot be stopped any other way."

  "It's more than that. It's potentially the most powerful incapacitation technique in the hero community. A single Slave Arrow strike could permanently seal any target—living or non-living—indefinitely."

  Boa looked at the remaining petrified dummies, still frozen across the field. There was something deeply unsettling about them, even though they were just training equipment.

  "I know the responsibility that comes with this," she said quietly. "I'm not taking it lightly."

  "I can see that." Uwabami's expression softened. "Just remember—the permanent version is a last resort. The temporary version is effective enough for most situations. Save the permanent petrification for when nothing else will work."

  "Understood."

  They spent the remainder of the afternoon refining both techniques—temporary and permanent Slave Arrow, the Gorgon Strike, and the standard Mero Mero Mellow. Boa practiced the transitions between them, learning to read situations and choose the appropriate response instantly.

  By evening, she was completely exhausted—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Projecting the intensity of emotion required for permanent petrification drained her in ways regular training never had.

  "That's enough for today," Uwabami said firmly. "You need rest. Tomorrow we'll focus on stamina and endurance to support these techniques."

  Boa nodded, too tired to argue.

  Back at her lodgings, she showered, ate a quick meal, and collapsed onto her bed. Her phone buzzed several times, but she didn't have the energy to check it immediately.

  When she finally did, she found messages from several classmates in the class group chat—something Kirishima had created during the Sports Festival. It was usually full of meaningless chatter and terrible memes from Kaminari.

  But today's messages were different.

  Kirishima: Hey everyone. Did you guys see the news about those villains found dead near the waterfront?

  Ashido: Yeah that's creepy. Do you think it's the League of Villains?

  Sero: Police aren't confirming anything but rumors are going crazy.

  Kaminari: This is scary. Should we be worried?

  Yaoyorozu: We should stay alert. All of us. The USJ taught us that threats can appear without warning.

  Todoroki: My father mentioned it briefly. He seemed concerned.

  And then, at the bottom of the thread, a message from Katsuki:

  Everyone stop panicking. If the League wants round two, they're gonna get it. We beat them once. We'll do it again.

  Boa stared at his message, a strange warmth spreading through her despite the ominous news.

  She typed back: He's right. Stay alert, but don't let fear control you. We're stronger than we were at the USJ.

  Several replies came back immediately—agreement, gratitude, the usual class energy.

  Then a private message from Katsuki: You saw the news.

  Yes. Uwabami briefed me this morning. Aizawa came to spar with me today because of it.

  Aizawa left Best Jeanist's agency to come spar with you?

  Briefly. He wanted to see my new techniques and help me find weaknesses in them.

  What weaknesses?

  Erasure negates my emotional imbuing entirely. If my Quirk is erased at the wrong moment, my Slave Arrow and Gorgon Strike are useless.

  So we need to make sure no one gets to you with an erasure-type Quirk.

  The possessive protectiveness in that message made something flutter in Boa's chest.

  I can handle myself, Katsuki.

  I know you can. Doesn't mean I don't want to help. That's how this works, remember? Together.

  Together, she typed back, and meant it more than she'd meant anything in a long time.

  Get some sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be a big day.

  It will be. Good night.

  Night, Boa. Don't dream about villains.

  I dream about nothing. I sleep too deeply for dreams.

  Show off.

  She smiled and set her phone aside. Despite the news about the League of Villains, despite the weight of everything she was learning and becoming, she felt... grounded.

  Strong.

  Not alone.

  The fourth day brought storms.

  Not literal ones—though Tokyo's sky was overcast and gray when Boa woke—but the kind that came from escalating tensions and increasing threats.

  Uwabami met her at the agency with an even more serious expression than yesterday.

  "More bodies," she said without preamble. "Five this time. Same method. Completely drained."

  "The League of Villains?"

  "Almost certainly. And there's something else." Uwabami handed her a tablet showing a news broadcast. A reporter was standing in front of a crime scene, her expression grave.

  "Sources close to the investigation have confirmed that messages were left at the scene. Written in what appears to be blood." The reporter's voice dropped. "The messages all contained the same phrase: 'All Might is a fraud. And we will prove it.'"

  Boa's blood went cold.

  All Might. The Symbol of Peace. The number one hero.

  She thought of his smile during the entrance exam, his enthusiasm during training. But she also remembered what Aizawa had said months ago: He used up his time limit this morning.

  There was something Boa didn't know about All Might. Something fundamental.

  "This changes everything," Uwabami said. "The League isn't just attacking randomly. They have a target. And if they're right about whatever secret All Might is hiding..."

  "The stability of the entire hero society could be compromised," Boa finished.

  "Exactly. Which is why I'm pulling you from regular patrol for today. Combat training only—intensive. I want you as sharp as possible before you return to UA."

  "Understood."

  They trained hard that day—harder than any previous session. Uwabami brought in two of her sidekicks to simulate multi-opponent combat. Boa practiced Slave Arrow barrages, Gorgon Strikes, Mero Mero Mellow, and her developing physical combat skills without Quirk support.

  She also practiced her new permanent petrification applications with greater focus, learning to modulate the intensity of her emotional projection to control exactly how permanent the effect would be.

  "Fifty arrows," Uwabami called out as Boa released another Slave Arrow. "And the range?"

  "Thirty-two meters," Boa reported, slightly breathless.

  "Getting there. Keep pushing."

  By the end of the day, Boa had reached forty-two arrows with a range of thirty meters. Not quite her target, but significant improvement.

  "Good work today," Uwabami said as they wound down. "You've made extraordinary progress this week. Your combat abilities, your presence, your technique development—I'm genuinely impressed."

  "Thank you. You've taught me more in four days than I learned in years of training alone."

  "That's because training alone has limits." Uwabami looked at her with something like pride. "You're no longer training alone, Hancock. You have a class, a mentor, and..." She glanced at Boa meaningfully. "A certain explosive blonde who texts you constantly."

  Boa felt her ears warm. "He's a classmate."

  "Mmhmm. Of course he is." Uwabami's smile was knowing but gentle. "Whatever he is to you, it's clearly making you stronger. Hold onto that."

  That evening, the news continued to escalate.

  More reports of League activity. More whispered rumors about All Might's secret. The hero community was on edge in ways Boa had never seen before.

  She sat in her lodgings, scrolling through the news feeds, her mind working overtime.

  All Might is a fraud. We will prove it.

  What did they know? What was All Might hiding?

  She thought back to the entrance exam, to the training sessions. All Might had always been enthusiastic, powerful, seemingly limitless. But Aizawa had mentioned a "time limit." Recovery Girl had mentioned healing. There were pieces of a puzzle she didn't have.

  Her phone buzzed. Katsuki.

  You saw the news?

  Yes.

  Something's wrong with All Might. I've suspected it for a while. The way he deflates when he thinks no one's watching...

  Deflates?

  You haven't noticed? He goes from the big buff guy to this thin, broken-looking skeleton. Midoriya knows about it too—he's been acting weird since the entrance exam.

  Boa stared at her phone. Katsuki had noticed something fundamental about All Might that she'd missed.

  How long have you known?

  Since the entrance exam. I watched the footage obsessively afterward. Something doesn't add up.

  You should have told me.

  I didn't know if it was safe to. Texts can be intercepted. But if the League already knows...

  Then it doesn't matter anymore.

  Yeah. We need to talk about this in person. When we get back to UA.

  Agreed.

  Be careful tomorrow. Last day of training. Don't let your guard down.

  I won't. You either.

  Always.

  Boa set her phone down and stared at the ceiling.

  The world she'd been slowly opening herself up to—her classmates, her growing confidence, her relationship with Katsuki—was all built on a foundation that might be crumbling beneath them.

  All Might's secret could change everything.

  But right now, all she could do was prepare. Train. Get stronger.

  And trust that when the storm came, she wouldn't be facing it alone.