MHA: A hunter in the world of heroes

The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the arena, Killua stood at the center of the podium, his silver hair catching the sunlight and creating an almost ethereal halo around his head. His trademark shit-eating grin was plastered across his face, a perfect blend of mischief and triumph. He stood tall, hands on his pockets, basking in the moment—not just of victory, but of a well-executed plan.

To Killua's right, Katsuki occupied the second-place position. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his entire body taut like a coiled spring. He was practically vibrating with a mix of emotions, the most prominent being frustration. His crimson eyes darted sideways, throwing daggers at Killua's smug expression.

Katsuki wasn't mad about losing to Killua, not really. What irked him was how he lost. He should have anticipated that Killua would pull something like this; after all, wasn't he one of the most unpredictable, mischievous students in their class? That infuriating grin, full of smugness, made Katsuki's palms itch with the urge to create explosions. 'Damn it,' he thought, 'I'll get you next time, you little shit.'

But beneath the surface of irritation, there was gratitude. Killua had shown him something important today, something about what it truly meant to be a hero. Once filled with jeers and doubts about Katsuki, the crowd's cheers now held genuine admiration. He had lost the match but gained something far more valuable, so no, he didn't mind losing as much as he thought he would. He breathed in and slowly released his breath calming down, and a small twitching smile was formed.

To Killua's left stood Shoto, claiming the third-place spot. Gone was his usual stoic mask, replaced by a calm expression adorned with a small but genuine smile. The festival had been a turning point for him, a catalyst for change. He had learned to let go, to move beyond the chains of his past that had held him back for so long. Sure, he hadn't claimed first or even second place, but the personal victories he'd achieved during the festival far outweighed any trophy. He had used his fire, embraced his full potential, and taken the first steps towards reconciliation with his past.

As the three stood there, each lost in their thoughts, the crowd's roar washed over them. Confetti rained down, catching the sunlight and creating a dazzling display.

Above them, All Might beamed as brightly as ever, his towering presence drawing the crowd's gaze. "CONGRATULATIONS, YOUNG HEROES!" he shouted, his voice booming across the stadium. "You've shown true strength and heart! Today, you've proven yourselves as some of the brightest lights in the next generation of heroes!"

All Might stepped forward, carrying the medals for the top three competitors. He approached Killua first, the crowd's cheers swelling as he reached out to place the gold medal around Killua's neck.

"First place, Killua Zoldyck!" All Might declared, his smile wide. "You've shown extraordinary skill, agility, and most importantly compassion. You fought with precision, always staying one step ahead of your opponents, it's undeniable that you're one of the most talented students, and you have a bright future ahead of you!"

Killua accepted the medal with a small smirk, but there was no arrogance in it—only confidence. He bowed slightly, though it was more for the sake of appearances. His eyes scanned the crowd, noting how their awe was fixated on him. 'Good. Keep watching me,' he thought. The attention, the focus—it would all keep the danger away from his classmates.

Next, All Might moved to Katsuki, who now had a scowl in place, which only deepened as the silver medal was placed around his neck. His arms crossed tightly across his chest. "Second place, Katsuki Bakugo! Your relentless will and explosive power are unmatched. But today, you've also shown growth. I know losing isn't easy for you, but remember—every loss is a stepping stone to becoming the hero you're meant to be!"

Katsuki growled under his breath, "I don't need a pep talk," he muttered barely loud enough for All Might to hear. 

All Might chuckled softly. "You fought well, young Bakugo. But remember—heroism is about more than just winning."

"I know that," he said before side-eyeing Killua again "As much as I hate to admit it, speedy helped me see that"

All Might's features softened a little, "I'm glad to hear that, one day you will become a splendid hero" Then he turned back to Killua once again "Your class chose wisely, there is no one else more fit to be class president"

Killua eyed the stands where his classmates were, noting how Ilda was missing "I'm not so sure about that" he muttered.

"In time you'll understand your true potential, not just as a hero" Killua accepted the hero's words with no further argument, he still didn't believe him, but maybe one day he'll understand.

Finally, All Might approached Shoto. The third-place medal gleamed as All Might placed it around Shoto's neck, the Pro Hero's voice dropping to a gentler tone. "Third place, Shoto Todoroki! You fought with incredible power, but today you also took a step toward reclaiming your identity." Then added a little lower, so only the three finalists could listen "Remember, this power belongs to you and no one else."

Shoto's mismatched eyes flickered with understanding. He nodded slowly, the weight of All Might's words settling into him. He had to find peace with his quirk, with himself. "Thank you," Shoto said quietly, his voice barely audible above the cheers of the crowd.

All Might stepped back, his gaze sweeping over the three finalists. "You three have shown what it means to fight with strength, skill, and heart. Today, you've inspired not only your classmates but the entire hero community. The road ahead will be long, but I know you'll rise to the challenge!"

As All Might's voice echoed through the stadium, the crowd erupted into wild applause, their cheers filling the air. The finalists stood atop the podium, medals gleaming in the sunlight, but their thoughts were elsewhere—focused not on the weight of their medals, but on what lay ahead.

Killua stood tall, his gold medal around his neck, but his mind was already planning his next move. He had drawn all the attention he needed to protect his classmates, and he'd mostly kept his control. But the future was uncertain, and the threat of the LOV loomed larger than ever.

As the crowd continued to cheer, Killua, Katsuki, and Shoto shared a brief glance—an unspoken acknowledgment of the battles they had fought, both in the arena and within themselves. 

The awards had been given, the festival was over, but their journeys were just beginning. Not just for the three of them but for the whole class. After all the Festival didn't affect just the winners, but everyone else as well.

With all three medals in place, All Might raised his arms to the crowd, a wide grin splitting his face. "NOW EVERYONE, LET'S SHOW THESE YOUNG HEROES OUR GRATITUDE! ON THREE"

The crowd, as enthusiastic as ever, took a deep breath, ready to respond.

"ONE, TWO, THREE!" All Might bellowed, arms raised. "THANK YOU FOR YOUR HARD WORK"

But instead of the expected chant -At least for All Might expected-, the crowd erupted in unison "PLUS ULTRA!!"

All Might blinked in surprise, his arms dropping slightly as he stared out at the thousands of cheering fans. He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I guess that works too," he muttered to himself, but the crowd's cheers only grew louder, clearly energized by their passion.

Killua glanced sideways at Katsuki and Shoto, a faint grin playing on his lips. He couldn't help but find the whole situation amusing, especially seeing All Might be thrown off for a moment.

Katsuki, on the other hand, rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by his teacher's enthusiasm. "Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though he still respected the man he found him too enthusiastic.

Shoto remained silent, but there was a slight twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips as he gazed out at the crowd, before forming a small frown as he caught eye of his father.

As the stadium echoed with the resounding chant of "PLUS ULTRA," All Might regained his composure, his voice booming once again. "PLUS ULTRA INDEED!" he shouted, raising his arms high. "MAY YOU ALL CONTINUE TO PUSH YOURSELVES BEYOND YOUR LIMITS!"

The crowd erupted again, and the finalists stood tall on the podium, the weight of their medals hanging around their necks, and the weight of the future settling on their shoulders.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

The enthusiasm and energy of the Sports Festival had finally begun to fade, replaced by the low hum of the evening as the sun dipped below the horizon. The medal winners were no longer in the spotlight, and the rest of Class 1-A was still riding the high of the Sports Festival. Separated into smaller groups, some already leaving. Despite the exhausting day, spirits were still high—thanks in no small part to Killua's antics.

"A barbeque?" Shota's dry tone was full of skepticism, but the defeated look on his face told a different story. He stood at the entrance of the school grounds, arms crossed, trying—and failing—not to give in to the relentless onslaught of Killua's puppy eyes.

Killua's eyes were impossibly wide, sparkling as though the fate of the world rested on this one request. He pouted slightly, and even as Shota tried to hold firm, he could feel himself slipping. "Come on, dad! We've been working so hard! And it's not just for us… it's for you too! You deserve a break." Killua leaned in, voice dropping dramatically. "I mean, imagine how much everyone would appreciate it. You'd be the coolest teacher."

Shota blinked. "That's... debatable." Shota sighed, rubbing his temples. It was clear the boy wouldn't let up until he got his way. And it wasn't just Killua—beside him, Denki and Eijiro were bouncing with excitement, clearly ready to jump in and pester him if necessary.

"Fine," he relented, pulling out his phone to make arrangements. "But you're paying me back," he muttered already making plans to work him into the bone.

Killua's smirk widened as he turned to the group. "Mission accomplished."

Denki fist-pumped, and Eijiro beamed with excitement. "You've got skills, Killua!"

"Never doubted it," Killua said, glancing sideways at Katsuki, who stood nearby, scowling as usual.

"I'm not going," Katsuki muttered, arms crossed over his chest. "You think I'm going to sit around and celebrate after that?"

Killua rolled his eyes. "You're coming, Katsuki. Trust me, you'll enjoy yourself. Besides…" He leaned closer, lowering his voice, "We all know you need to cool off after losing, don't we?"

Katsuki's eyes narrowed, a small spark of an explosion cracking from his hand. "Watch it, Speedy."

"Yeah, yeah," Killua said with a laugh, already turning away. "Come on, Hitoshi, you too."

Hitoshi Shinsou had been standing off to the side, watching the exchange with a raised brow, having been dragged there by Wendy who refused to tell him why. "Why am I getting dragged into this?"

Killua's grin stretched wider, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You'll need the energy if you're going to survive the training. Might as well fuel up on barbecue while you can."

Hitoshi's brow furrowed, confusion evident in his voice. "What are you talking about?"

Shota interjected, his calculating gaze fixed on the mind-bending teen. "Killua's right. Not only that, but you're also going to need a new diet plan."

"Huh?" Hitoshi's confusion only deepened.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, his voice laced with its usual irritation. "Are you that dense, Eye Bags? They want you to start training for the hero course." He muttered under his breath, "Just another extra," which earned him a sharp elbow to the ribs from Eijiro.

Hitoshi's expression remained unreadable as he turned to the teacher. "Is that true?"

Shota nodded, his tone matter-of-fact. "The entrance exam is unfair to students like you. If it were up to me, you'd already be in my class."

Hitoshi's eyes dropped to the ground, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He took a deep breath, then looked up, a new determination in his gaze. "Fine." Then turned to Shota "When do we start?"

"As soon as the sports festival ends, I want to prepare you for the second semester, the latest first semester of the Second year." Hitoshi gave a sharp nod.

With that, the group made their way toward the restaurant. Yaoyorozu had already offered to help cover the cost—despite Killua's 'puppy eyes' manipulation, she was just as invested in making sure her classmates enjoyed themselves. Wendy walked alongside Killua, feeling a little bit out of place. Killua bumped into her offering her a smile, making her relax more.

By the time they arrived at the barbeque Killua, Shoto, Denki, Eijiro, Katsuki, Hitoshi, Yaoyorozu, and Wendy were all ready to relax after the intense festival. The scent of grilled meat filled the air as they entered, and even Katsuki couldn't hide the glint of hunger in his eyes.

As they sat around the table, the mood shifted from tense post-competition reflection to lighthearted banter. Denki and Eijiro were busy arguing over who could eat the most, while Yaoyorozu carefully portioned out her meal, trying to keep things civilized. Wendy chatted with Shoto, who, though usually quiet, seemed genuinely content in the moment.

"So, Katsuki," Killua said, smirking as he bit into a piece of perfectly grilled meat. "How's it feel to not be the center of attention for once?"

Katsuki glared, but there was no real heat behind it. "Shut it. You little shit, next time..."

"Next time," Killua interrupted, "we'll both be even stronger."

A small, reluctant grin tugged at Katsuki's mouth. He wasn't used to letting his guard down, but surrounded by his classmates— dare he say friends— and with the smell of sizzling meat in the air, he found himself softening. Just a little.

Shota, sitting at a table nearby, watched the scene unfold. He had already resigned himself to the fact that his son had a way of dragging him into celebrations. But seeing him together with friends, laughing, and building bonds that would follow them in their careers, he allowed himself a rare, small smile.

"Sensei!" Denki called, raising a glass of soda. "Thanks for letting us have this! You're the best!"

Shota waved a hand dismissively, but the corners of his mouth twitched up. "Don't expect this to become a habit."

The group laughed, and for a while, the tension of the day melted away. Between the food, the jokes, and the shared experience of the festival, they found a moment of peace. For now, at least, the looming threats and challenges of being a hero could wait.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

Shota Aizawa winced as he received the receipt, feeling the phantom pain of his wallet growing lighter by the second. At this rate, Killua would drain his finances dry before even completing his first year.

His gaze drifted to his adopted son, who was doubled over in laughter at something Shoto had said. The entire table had erupted into mirth, the joy infectious. Even the usually composed Yaoyorozu couldn't contain herself, her hand barely concealing her giggles. Perhaps the most amusing part of the whole scene was Shoto's bewildered expression, clearly unaware of what he had said that sparked such hilarity.

As Shota watched the carefree moment unfold, he felt a smile tugging at his own lips. The warmth of the scene before him settled in his chest, and he found himself thinking, 'Perhaps having a lighter wallet is a small price to pay for moments like these.'

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

The sun had barely risen, casting a warm golden hue over the streets as Killua cruised down the road on his skateboard, his silver hair catching the morning light. It had only been two days since the U.A. Sports Festival and the world outside the school had changed dramatically for him.

As Killua skated past the bustling streets, he noticed more and more heads turning his way. Kids pointed, whispers followed him, and every so often someone would call out his name. He didn't particularly mind the attention—it was part of his plan, after all—but it was still strange to be recognized for something other than his family name.

"Hey, isn't that Killua Zoldyck?"

"Yeah, he was amazing at the Sports Festival!"

"He's so cool! I wonder if he'll be a pro soon?"

Some kids boldly ran up to him, asking, "Zoldyck-san! Can we get a picture?"

Killua skidded to a stop, his foot lightly tapping the ground as he faced the group of excited kids. His trademark smirk appeared as he reached for his skateboard and leaned on it. "Sure, why not," he said, not seeing any harm in it.

As the kids snapped their photos, Killua noticed his classmates approaching from behind. Denki and Eijiro waved as they jogged over, both grinning.

"Already a celebrity, huh?" Eijiro said, laughing as he slapped Killua on the back.

Denki shook his head. "Of course he is! He won the whole thing after all. It's no wonder everyone wants his picture."

Killua just shrugged, hopping back onto his skateboard and gliding alongside his friends. "I guess this is what happens when you win, right?" he joked.

As they neared the school gates, the crowd of students was even larger. Cameras flashed, and voices clamored for attention as the media had already gathered to capture images of the rising stars from the Sports Festival. Killua, ever calm, flicked his skateboard into his hand and coolly slipped through the crowd, his expression as relaxed as ever. The media didn't faze him.

Katsuki, meanwhile, stormed past with a scowl. "Get out of my way!" he barked, his usual temper rising as the crowd pressed in on him, luckily he controlled himself from calling them extras, he just only earned the people's respect it would be bad if he lost it so soon afterward.

Once inside U.A., the noise of the outside world seemed to melt away. 

"It's so weird that people recognize us from TV now!" Ashido exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat. "Everyone wanted to talk to me on my way here."

Hagakure fidgeted with her sleeve. "People on the street were staring at me too. It was kind of embarrassing..."

"Sure, but isn't that normal for you by now?" Eijiro asked with a gentle smile.

"Speaking of attention," Denki cut in, pointing across the room, "this guy's already a full-blown celebrity. He was taking pictures with some kids outside."

Killua leaned back in his chair with a smirk. "What can I say? People love me."

His classmates immediately erupted in protests and groans.

"I don't know why you guys are surprised," Killua continued, spreading his hands innocently. "I'm a joy to be around."

Ashido fixed him with her most deadpan expression. "What you are is a menace."

"And a jerk," Shoto added flatly.

"And a little shit," Eijiro chimed in with a grin.

Katsuki's growl cut through the chorus of complaints. "An asshole too."

"You're just a sour loser," Sero shot back at Katsuki, trying to hide his amusement.

Killua's retort was cut short as he glanced toward the door. "You guys seriously shower me with too many compliments... but heads up, Sensei's almost here."

The door slid open just as Class 1-A was settling into their seats. To their surprise, Shota Aizawa walked in completely unbandaged, making his way to the podium with his usual tired expression.

"Good morning class."

"Mr. Aizawa, your bandages are gone!" Several students exclaimed, their faces lighting up with relief.

"I'm glad." Tsu said.

Aizawa ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "The old lady went overboard with her treatment. Now Settle down, everyone," he said, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Today we're focusing on something critical for your futures – you're going to pick your hero names."

The room erupted with excitement, and even Killua raised an eyebrow. This was an important step—a way to solidify their identities as future pro heroes. It wasn't just about being cool; it was about showing who they wanted to be in the world.

"Aizawa waited for the chatter to die down before continuing, "This is directly related to the pro-hero draft picks I mentioned the other day. The drafts typically begin in earnest during your second and third years, after you've gained experience and can become immediate assets to the pros." He paused, making sure the information sank in. "For them to extend offers to first-years like you shows that they see significant future potential. However, keep in mind that these offers are often canceled if that interest dies down by graduation."

He gestured to the board where the results appeared. "Here are the totals for those with offers. In previous years, it's been more spread out, but this year, all eyes were on these three students."

"There's such a big difference," Ojiro murmured, studying the numbers.

"Todoroki's second and Bakugo's third?" Eijiro leaned forward in his seat, surprised.

Jirou tapped her earphone jack thoughtfully. "It's the opposite of their placement in the sports festival."

"Whether or not you received any offers," Aizawa continued, his tone growing more serious, "you will all be participating in internships with pros. While you've already faced real villains at USJ, seeing pros at work firsthand will provide invaluable training experience." He swept his gaze across the classroom. "But before we start, you need to understand something crucial: a hero's name carries weight. It's not just a label – it's a representation of your ideals, your abilities, and how the public perceives you. Once you choose a name, it tends to stick. So think carefully about your choice."

At that moment, Midnight strutted into the room, her usual sultry demeanor on full display. "I'll be helping judge your names," she said with a wink. "So make sure they're appropriate... and catchy."

The students exchanged nervous glances. It was one thing to think of a cool name, but it was another to have it scrutinized by a pro like Midnight.

Killua leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, thinking about what his hero name should be. A name wasn't something he took lightly—he didn't want to be tied to his family's legacy, but he also couldn't ignore the skills he had been trained in. He needed a name that reflected him.

He looked over his classmates, everyone was focused on their blank boards, and he saw as many rewrote their names over and over again. He focused on Ilda, Shota told him what happened to his brother and how it was unlikely for him to continue his career as a pro, it was obvious that Ilda didn't take the news very well. Not that he blamed him. He noticed as he wrote Inge, before erasing it and writing down his name. He should keep an eye on him.

One by one, the students stood up to present their names.

Denki, ever the entertainer, proudly announced, "Chargebolt!"

Midnight gave a nod of approval, though her usual playfulness lingered in her smile.

Eijiro stepped forward confidently. "Red Riot!" he declared, in honor of his idol, Crimson Riot.

"That's the spirit!" Midnight cheered, clearly impressed by his passion.

Then came Katsuki, who stormed to the front of the room, a gleam of determination in his eyes. "I'm King Explosion Murder!" he announced loudly, a grin spreading across his face.

Shota sighed, rubbing his temples, while Midnight raised an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. "That's a bit... violent, don't you think?" she asked, glancing between Katsuki and Shota.

Katsuki scowled. "It's badass."

Shota cut in dryly. "Try again, Bakugo."

Grumbling, Katsuki crossed his arms, but he didn't push back too hard.

Finally, it was Killua's turn. He stood up, his usual smirk playing on his lips as all eyes turned to him. 

"I've decided," Killua said, his voice calm but confident. "I'll go with... The lightning hero: Raijin." 

The room was silent for a moment, letting the name sink in.

Midnight's eyes sparkled with approval. "Oho! Now that is a name," she said, clapping her hands together. "Raijin, the powerful god of thunder, was known for his temper, which manifested in sudden thunderstorms—much like you."

Killua's smirk widened, satisfied with his choice. He had chosen the name that best reflected his abilities while also distancing himself from his past but without undermining his skills. He also believed that Raijin and he were similar, as Midnight-Sensei said they were both temperamental.

Shota nodded slightly. "Good choice, Killua."

As more students presented their names, the excitement in the room grew.

"Now that everyone's decided on their hero names," Shota addressed the class, his tone businesslike, "let's discuss the internships in detail. These will last for a week." He began distributing papers to certain students. "Those who received offers will get personalized lists to choose from. The rest of you will select from among forty agencies throughout the country that have agreed to accept our interns."

He paused, making sure his next words carried weight. "These agencies all have different specialties and operate in various locations. Take Thirteen, for example – their focus is primarily on rescue operations during accidents and disasters, rather than villain combat. Think carefully about what kind of experience you want to gain from this opportunity..."

His eyes settled on Killua. "Killua, a word." It wasn't a request.

The white-haired student grimaced, already sensing the gravity of the conversation to come. As his classmates began excitedly discussing their options, he made his way to Shota's desk.

Once they were alone in the hallway, Shota's expression grew even more serious than usual. "There's something we need to discuss about your internship options." He leaned against the wall, studying his son carefully. "The Nomu incident has... complicated things."

Killua's eyes narrowed slightly, before sighing. "Because I killed it."

"Yes." Shota didn't sugarcoat it. "Despite the fact that it was a mindless weapon, that action has set you on a very specific path."

"Shikari"

"International bounty hunters with official authorization to eliminate blacklist villains – criminals with multiple confirmed kills or high-risk villains." Shota's voice was grim. "They're essential, but they also have the highest mortality rate in the hero profession."

Killua absorbed this information silently, his expression unreadable.

"I'm going to advise you to ignore all the offers you've received," Shota continued. "Your internship will be with someone specific – a Korean Executioner known as Phantom Blade." He handed Killua a thin file. "Unlike your classmates, you'll be heading overseas to Jeju Island in Korea and your internship will last a little over two weeks."

"You think this is the best path for me?" Killua's question was careful, and measured.

Shota met his gaze directly. "I think it's the only path that fits your... particular skill set. Phantom Blade can teach you how to channel those abilities within the bounds of the law. But Killua," his voice grew sharper, "this isn't a path to take lightly. The stakes are higher, and the risks are greater. You'll be dealing with the worst of the worst."

A ghost of a smile crossed Killua's face. "Sounds like my kind of challenge."

"This isn't about challenge," Shota's rebuke was swift. "It's about responsibility. The authority to take a life comes with a burden that most heroes never have to bear. You need proper training to handle that burden." He straightened up. "Take the rest of the day to think it over. We'll need your decision by tomorrow."

"It's not much of a decision anymore, is it Dad?" Killua's voice carried a hint of resignation, though his eyes remained steady.

Aizawa's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "You're young. The only thing you get is the choice about whether you want to do it now or to delay it."

"You think now is better..." It wasn't quite a question.

"You'll have time to adjust..." Aizawa's voice grew quieter, more personal. "I'm sorry. This is not what I wanted for you."

Killua's shoulders relaxed slightly, some of the tension leaving his frame. "It was my choices that led me here." He met his adopted father's gaze with a mix of determination and acceptance.

Aizawa watched as his son thumbed through the file, heading back to class with the weight of his future pressing down on his shoulders.

As the day wrapped up and students filed out of the classroom, their excited chatter about internships filling the halls, Killua lingered behind. The file from Aizawa felt heavy in his hands – not just physically, but with the weight of what it represented. He had a hero name now, Raijin, one that represented his future rather than his past. And with the recognition from the festival, he was already beginning to carve out his place in the hero world.

Just not quite the place he'd imagined.

His fingers traced the edge of the file containing details about the Phantom Blade and his potential future as a Shikari. Perhaps this was always where his path would lead – walking the line between hero and hunter, using the skills from his past to protect others, even if it meant making the hardest choices.