My Hero Academia: Heavenly Restriction

The soft glow of my laptop screen illuminated the scattered notes around me, each page filled with character arcs and plot threads waiting to be woven together. My Stitch onesie felt like a warm hug, though even its comforting embrace couldn't fully fight off the exhaustion seeping into my bones.

"Just... just need to finish this chapter," I mumbled, adjusting my glasses as they slipped down my nose for the hundredth time tonight. The purple highlights in my messy bun had long since escaped their confines, creating a sort of creative chaos around my face.

Tap tap tap

My fingers danced across the keyboard, though perhaps 'stumbled' would be more accurate at this point. The words blurred slightly before my eyes, but I couldn't stop now. Not when we'd hit such an incredible milestone.

"Five thousand powerstones," I whispered, a tired smile tugging at my lips. "You beautiful, wonderful readers actually did it. I didn't think... I mean, I hoped but..."

A yawn interrupted my monologue, and I found myself addressing the screen directly, as if having a conversation with each reader individually.

"Listen, my amazing powerstone warriors," I said, pulling my Stitch hood up for extra comfort. "You've been absolutely incredible. The support, the theories, the way you've embraced these characters... it means everything."

I glanced at the clock - 3:47 AM. My eyes widened slightly behind my round glasses.

"Oh... oh that's definitely morning. When did that happen?" I chuckled softly, running an ink-stained hand through my disheveled hair. "But you know what? Worth it. Every single sleep-deprived minute has been worth it to share this journey with you."

Another yawn escaped, and I found myself cuddling deeper into my onesie.

"Here's the thing though... I might need a tiny break. Just until Sunday! I promise the free chapter will be worth the wait." I fiddled with one of the many pens stuck in my bun. "Two days to recharge, maybe actually sleep in a bed instead of passing out at my desk again..."

My head drooped slightly before I caught myself.

"Right! So, here's the plan. I'm going to post this chapter, then actually get some proper rest. And Sunday..." I smiled, despite my exhaustion. "Sunday we'll dive back in together. Deal?"

I stifled another yawn.

"Just... just let me finish this last bit first..." My fingers returned to the keyboard, though my blinks were getting longer. "Can't leave you hanging... need to make sure the scene transitions properly into..."

thunk

My head hit the desk softly, Stitch hood sliding forward to cover my eyes. The last coherent thought I had before drifting off was a mental note to thank my readers properly when I was more awake.

A small puddle of drool began forming on my latest plot outline, but for once, I was too deeply asleep to care about the smudging ink.

[Author's Note: Your beloved sleep-deprived writer will return Sunday with the next chapter! Thank you all for the incredible support and for making this story such a joy to write. Sweet dreams!]

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The stitches in his leg itched. Shigaraki's fingers twitched toward the wound, but Father's hand stayed firmly in place over his face. Three days since their defeat at the USJ, and that green-haired shit still haunted his thoughts.

"Trash mobs." His nails dug into his neck. "You sent me trash-tier NPCs."

Carnival sat across the bar, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. Her traditional porcelain mask caught the dim light, its painted smile somehow more unsettling than his collection of hands. Behind her, the massive form of Requiem stood silent, single visible eye tracking every movement.

"Now, now." Her voice carried the cultured tones of old money. "Those 'NPCs' served their purpose. Data gathering is crucial for any proper performance."

"Purpose?" The scratching intensified. "They were worthless. Cannon fodder. If I'd had someone like him-" He jerked his head toward Requiem.

"Out of the question." Steel entered her voice. "Requiem serves only me."

The massive man didn't move, but something in his stance shifted. A predator going from rest to ready.

"Then what good are you?" Shigaraki's voice rose. "Master said-"

"Your master," Carnival interrupted, "understands the value of patience. Of building toward a proper crescendo." She tilted her head. "Tell me about the boy. The one who made you feel fear."

The scratching stopped. That moment replayed in his mind - green eyes blazing with fury as the nobody appeared before him, fist cocked back. For one heartbeat, Shigaraki had seen his death in those eyes.

"He needs to die." The words came out as a hiss. "Him and All Might both."

"Interesting." Carnival leaned forward. "All Might I understand. Symbol of peace, final boss, etcetera. But this boy... he's gotten under your skin, hasn't he?"

"He's nothing!" The glass under Shigaraki's free hand crumbled to dust. "A tutorial character who doesn't know his place. When I get my hands on him-"

"You'll what? Rush in again? Let him provoke you into mistakes?" She produced a tablet, tapping it with manicured nails. "Would you like to see the footage?"

Shigaraki's whole body went rigid. "What footage?"

"Oh, I had several cameras in place. Multiple angles." Her laugh chimed like broken glass. "The way he led your Nomu around, buying time... And those taunts. 'Store-bought hands' was particularly clever."

The bar's counter began to disintegrate under his touch. Kurogiri stepped smoothly forward, placing a fresh glass before him.

"Careful with the furniture, Tomura Shigaraki." The mist villain's tone held a warning. "We just had it replaced."

"The boy has potential," Carnival continued. "Raw, unrefined, but... interesting. The way he moves, the calculation behind those eyes. He reminds me of-"

"He's dead!" Shigaraki surged to his feet, leg wound screaming in protest. "Him, All Might, all of them! I'll turn them to dust! I'll-"

The temperature dropped. Carnival hadn't moved, but suddenly the air felt thick with killing intent.

"You'll sit down," she said softly, "and listen to your betters."

Requiem shifted his weight. Just slightly. Just enough.

Shigaraki's legs folded under him, though he couldn't say why. His heart hammered against his ribs as Carnival stood, her movements liquid grace.

"Your master and I have an arrangement." She circled the bar like a dancer, each step precise. "My family has supported his vision for generations. But that support comes with expectations."

She stopped behind him. He fought the urge to scratch, to decay, to destroy.

"You have potential, little Tomura." Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, perfectly manicured nails pressing just shy of breaking skin. "But you lack... refinement. Your performance at the USJ was crude. Unpolished. A child throwing pieces at the board without understanding the game."

"I know how to play." The words came out through gritted teeth.

She released his shoulder, moving back into view. "Your master asked me to help shape you into a proper villain. To add some..." Her mask tilted. "Artistic direction."

"I don't need-"

"Three days ago, a child made you feel fear." The words cut like knives. "Your pet monster failed to kill All Might. Your cannon fodder, as you called them, proved inadequate. And now you sit here, scratching at your neck, throwing a tantrum because someone dared suggest you might have something to learn."

Each point drove home like a physical blow. Shigaraki's hands trembled with the need to destroy, to reduce everything to dust. But something in her voice, in the way Requiem's single eye watched him, kept him still.

"The League of Villains." Carnival's tone dripped disappointment. "Such an ambitious name for a group that can't even handle a few children. Tell me, what exactly do you bring to our partnership besides your master's name?"

"I'll kill you." The threat came out weak, uncertain.

"No." She sighed. "You won't. Because deep down, you know I'm right. You know that raw destruction isn't enough. That true villainy requires..." She spread her arms. "Showmanship. Style. Purpose."

Shigaraki's mouth went dry as she leaned close, mask inches from his face.

"I'm going to teach you, little Tomura. How to turn random violence into art. How to make every death a performance, every defeat a stepping stone to greater heights." The mask's smile seemed to stretch impossibly wide. "And when you're ready - truly ready - we'll give them a show they'll never forget."

"And the boy?" He forced the words out past the lump in his throat.

"Ah yes, green hair." She straightened, producing a file from nowhere. "I've already got him on my radar. But first..."

She snapped her fingers. Requiem moved forward, placing a laptop before Shigaraki.

"Watch the footage. Study it. Learn from your mistakes." Carnival's voice hardened. "Because if you ever embarrass your master like that again, our partnership will become significantly less... cordial."

The threat hung in the air as she turned to leave, Requiem falling in step behind her. At the door, she paused.

"Oh, and Tomura? Do take care of those stitches. Blood is so difficult to get out of the floorboards."

The door closed with terrible finality. Only then did Shigaraki realize he'd been holding his breath.

"That woman," Kurogiri said quietly, "is far more dangerous than she appears."

Shigaraki's fingers found his neck again, but the scratching brought no relief. On the laptop screen, footage began to play. That green-haired nobody, moving like water around the Nomu's attacks. Each taunt, each calculated provocation laid bare.

"Big man, letting your science experiment do the work while you itch."

His nails dug deeper.

"Did daddy not hug you enough?"

Blood welled under his fingertips.

"Your hands look store-bought. Discount villain outlet?"

The laptop's screen cracked under his touch, but he forced himself to pull back before it completely decayed. Carnival's words echoed in his mind.

Watch. Study. Learn.

"Kurogiri."

"Yes, Tomura Shigaraki?"

"Bring me everything you can find on this kid." His hands shook with barely contained rage. "Everything."

"Of course." The mist villain paused. "And Carnival's... lessons?"

Shigaraki stared at the frozen green hair's defiant grin, blood staining his teeth.

"Fine." The word tasted like ash. "I'll play her game. For now."

But in his mind, he was already planning. Already imagining the moment he'd wrap his hands around that green-haired throat after killing All Might. The moment he'd watch those defiant eyes turn to dust.

Soon, he promised himself. Soon.

The stitches itched, and for once, he didn't scratch.

=====

I woke to soft kisses trailing down my neck. Camie's warmth pressed against my side, her hair tickling my chin as she worked her way up my jaw.

"Morning, Izu."

"Mmm." The sensation of her lips on my skin sent pleasant shivers through me. "What time is it?"

"Almost noon." She nipped gently at my pulse point. "First Strike's about to start."

The TV flickered to life, showing the familiar studio setup. Takeshi "Hot Take" Tanaka sat ramrod straight in his chair, multiple tablets arranged before him. Across the desk, Matsuda "The Mad Dog" Kenji lounged with his typical dramatic flair.

"Achoo!"

"Bless you." Camie's lips found a sensitive spot below my ear. "Getting sick?"

"No, just-" My breath hitched as she sucked harder. "Camie."

She hummed against my skin. "What? Queen said to rest. I'm helping you rest."

On screen, Hot Take cleared his throat. "The UA incident raises serious questions about security at our top hero institution. The statistics don't lie - this breach represents an unprecedented failure."

"Statistics?" Mad Dog's voice cracked with familiar intensity. "You want to talk statistics while students - children - faced life-threatening danger? Two of them hospitalized with severe injuries?"

"Speaking of which..." Hot Take adjusted his glasses. "Our sources indicate the injured students went toe-to-toe with the creature dubbed 'Nomu.' Early footage analysis suggests this bioengineered weapon was designed specifically to counter All Might."

Camie's hands tightened on my shoulders. I covered them with my own, squeezing gently.

"The identity remains unknown," Hot Take continued, "but speculation centers on Endeavor's daughter, Hitomi Todoroki. As the overwhelming favorite for the upcoming Sports Festival-"

"Pure conjecture!" Mad Dog slammed his palm on the desk. "We have no confirmation of the student's identity. What we do know is that Class 1-A demonstrated remarkable courage and tactical awareness."

I shifted uncomfortably. Camie pressed closer, her chin resting on my shoulder.

"They're wrong, you know." Her breath tickled my ear. "About Hitomi."

"Yeah." The image of the Nomu's fist shattering my ribs flashed through my mind. "Wrong about a lot of things."

"Stop." She turned my face toward her. "I know that look. You're analyzing the fight again."

"I have to. I was too weak, too slow. If All Might hadn't-"

Her kiss cut me off, fierce and demanding. When she pulled back, her eyes blazed. "You fought a monster designed to kill the Symbol of Peace. Alone. Bought time for everyone to escape."

"But-"

"No buts." She straddled my lap, forcing me to look at her. "You're alive. That's what matters."

My phone buzzed. Camie grabbed it first, checking the screen. "Yaomomo's FaceTiming."

She accepted the call before I could say anything. Momo's face appeared, concern etched in her features. Her expression flickered seeing our position.

"Izuku! I- oh. Hello, Utsushimi-san."

"Heya!" Camie snuggled closer, clearly not planning to move. "What's up?"

"I wanted to check on Midoriya-kun." Momo's composure returned quickly. "And discuss preparations for the Sports Festival. The class will look to us for leadership."

"Good point." I tried to sit straighter, but Camie's weight kept me pinned. "We should coordinate training plans."

"My thoughts exactly. Perhaps we could meet tomorrow to discuss strategy?"

Camie's smile turned sharp. "Why not come over here? We've got plenty of space, and Izu needs to rest anyway."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose-"

"Not at all! Right, Izu?"

I recognized that tone. Camie was up to something. "Sure. We can make it work."

"Perfect!" Camie beamed. "See you tomorrow, Yaomomo!"

She ended the call before Momo could respond. On TV, Hot Take and Mad Dog's argument had devolved into their usual shouting match.

"You're plotting something."

"Me?" Camie's innocent expression didn't reach her eyes. "Just being friendly."

"Camie."

She sighed, dropping her head to my shoulder. "You know she likes you, right?"

"What? No, she-"

"Please. I've seen how she looks at you during training. The way she always asks your opinion first in class meetings." Her fingers traced patterns on my chest. "Can't blame her. You're pretty likeable."

"We're just friends."

"Like we were 'just friends' at first?" She lifted her head, expression soft. "It's okay. I'm not jealous."

"You're not?"

"Nope." She kissed me lightly. "Because I got you first. And I'm not letting go."

As if to prove her point, she resumed her earlier attention to my neck. On screen, Mad Dog's voice rose to a fever pitch.

"The Sports Festival will prove what I've been saying! This class has something special - that fire that defines true heroes!"

"The numbers-" Hot Take started.

"The numbers lie!" Mad Dog's signature hysterical laugh filled the studio. "Just watch! Class 1-A will show everyone what Plus Ultra really means!"

They don't know the half of it, I thought, pulling Camie closer. But for now, with her warm weight grounding me and the familiar bickering of First Strike's hosts in the background, I could almost believe her words.

Almost.

The festival would show everyone the truth - one way or another.