My Mangekyo Sharingan Can't Save My Hero Academia: 14 Screaming Villain

[VILLAIN POV – 3 MINUTES EARLIER]

Smoke curled off the pavement as Molten Jackal—terror of precisely two cities that didn't matter—stomped toward the collapsing barrier ahead.

Pathetic hero.

Pathetic town.

Pathetic Tuesday.

"HAH! SENTINEL! THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR STANDING IN THE WAY OF—"

A faint whistle traveled through the air.

He frowned.

"…The hell is that—"

THUNK.

Something slammed into the back of his skull so hard the world rotated twice and then politely waited for him to catch up.

His face hit the concrete with an undignified splap.

A ringing hum buzzed in his ears. Colors inverted. His vision swam.

'What… who…?'

He pushed up.

"What… wh—who hit me?!"

He lifted his head just enough to see it.

A teenager. Wearing a very recognizable school uniform, and holding a manhole cover.

Like a very tired grim reaper who had missed several buses in a row.

The kid looked down at him with the expression of someone who had run completely out of patience with the universe.

"Still wanna get up?" the kid asked flatly.

Molten Jackal's brain struggled to process this.

'A… a student?'

'A U.A. student just—'

'Did he just hit me with a—'

THUNK.

The manhole cover slammed into his face.

Everything rang.

Stars exploded behind his eyes.

His molten scales flickered weakly.

Someone in the distance shouted, "OH MY GOD—HE HIT HIM AGAIN!"

Molten Jackal curled up, groaning, pride shattering into a thousand humiliated pieces.

'This can't get worse.' Wrong.

His quirk sputtered.

It got worse.

He tried to stand—mistake—and the kid shifted his stance, adjusted his grip like he was back in batting practice, and swung downward with surgical precision.

THUNK.

Directly into the unarmored region evolution forgot to reinforce.

Molten Jackal's eyes watered.

His breath left him.

Every nerve in his body screamed.

Every man on the block screamed in harmony.

"OOOHHHHH—"

He wheezed, vision fading, life choices unraveling in real time like a badly-edited montage.

His quirk sputtered out completely.

Everything went black for a moment.

And when consciousness crept back—unwanted, unwelcome—Molten Jackal found himself curled on the pavement in the fetal position, every part of him aching.

His vision swam.

His ears rang.

His everything hurt.

Worst of all —

'What just ...'

He swept his gaze, and saw it. The kid was walking away.

Just… walking away.

Hands in his pockets.

Like nothing had happened.

Like he'd just taken out the trash.

The naked shame and humiliation of it crashed over Molten Jackal like a tidal wave.

'Defeated by a student.'

'Like this.'

'In front of everyone.'

His pride—what little remained—reared its ugly, battered head.

How dare he.

How absolutely, cosmically dare he.

Molten Jackal forced breath into his lungs, pulled himself halfway upright, and hissed through his teeth:

"You…" he rasped, "You…"

Molten Jackal's molten scales flickered weakly.

"I'll… You'll pay for this…"

The kid stopped.

Turned.

Just his head.

Slowly.

Too slowly.

Like a horror movie character who knew exactly how frightening he was.

“…Is that so?”

A cold shiver sprinted down Molten Jackal’s spine.

He hadn’t expected him to come back.

He definitely didn’t expect him to start walking toward him again.

Panic surged.

“W–wa–wait— Don’t come here!! Don’t come here!!”

The kid reached down, lifted the manhole cover again, and Molten Jackal’s soul left his body, filed a restraining order, and moved to another prefecture.

“No—NO—HELP!!”

His head snapped toward Sentinel—the hero he’d been trying to kill less than three minutes ago.

“HERO! HELP ME!! HE’S GOING TO KILL ME!”

Sentinel, battered and barely standing, blinked in pure disbelief.

“Uh—kid—I think he's—”

Yuta looked at Sentinel.

One single glance.

Sentinel froze mid-sentence. Those eyes ... The kid's expression didn't change, but something in those eyes made Sentinel's next words die in his throat.

Molten Jackal watched in horror as the pro hero—the veteran pro hero—took an involuntary step backward.

Then clutched his own ribs reflexively and coughed blood as if suddenly remembering his injuries were a great excuse not to intervene.

Yuta turned back to Molten Jackal.

“You threatened me,” he said simply.

Molten Jackal wheezed. “What?! I—I just— You hit me! Twice!”

“Three times,” Yuta corrected.

“THAT’S NOT BETTER!”

Yuta adjusted his hood.

“I don’t know you. You don’t know me. But now you’ve seen my face.”

“I haven’t! I swear! You’re wearing a hood! I can barely see your eyebrows!”

Yuta paused.

Then slowly—deliberately—pulled his hood back.

Hair, face, full view.

“You have now.”

Molten Jackal froze.

“…WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!”

Yuta sighed as if dealing with an incompetent coworker.

“You threatened revenge. What if you get up later? Attack me while I’m walking home? Burn me? Kill me? People like you hold grudges.”

“I DO NOT—WELL OKAY I DO—BUT NOT LIKE THIS—”

Yuta pointed at Sentinel.

“And he”—a nod toward the beaten hero—“can barely stand. Reinforcements aren’t here yet. Logically speaking, it is irresponsible to leave you conscious.”

Sentinel stared, horrified.

“That’s… that’s not how logic works—”

Yuta raised the manhole cover.

Molten Jackal screamed.

“NO—PLEASE—THIS IS EXCESSIVE—”

“You scared me,” Yuta said calmly. “So as a minor, I’m responding proportionately.”

“That is NOT proportionate!!”

Yuta shrugged.

“I’m not a pro hero. My standards are lower.”

"YOU! AREN'T YOU A PRO? ARE YOU REALLY GONNA WATCH HIM DO THIS?"

Desperate, Molten Jackal turned to Sentinel once again.

"…You know what," Sentinel said carefully. "You make a good point. Public safety. Civilian protection. All very… valid concerns."

He turned slightly away.

"I'll just… check the perimeter."

"WHAT?!" Molten Jackal shrieked.

The kid turned back to him.

"Any last words?"

"WAIT—"

THUNK.

Direct hit.

"OW—"

THUNK.

The sound of the manhole cover slamming into his face rang through the street like a church bell announcing the end of all misfortune except his.

The villain spasmed.

The boy's eyes shone. 'Still conscious huh? Good physique.'

Yuta switched his grip and hit again.

THUNK.

A tooth skittered across the pavement like a lost chess piece.

“Okay—okay—I’m unconscious—I swear—” Molten Jackal gurgled.

Yuta leaned closer.

“You’re talking.”

“No I’m—not—”

THUNK.

Silence.

In everyone's view, the boy took a good look at the motionless villain, noted his slightly trembling muscles, and calmly swung again.

THUNK!

“AH! COME ON.”

THUNK!

"STOP—"

THUNK.

"PLEASE—"

"…Dude," the kid muttered. "You're pretty loud."

THUNK!

“I ... I'M”

THUNK!

“MOLTEN JACK .. YOU DEMON CHILD”

“And I'm Kiryu Kazama. Nice to meetcha.”

THUNK!

THUNK!

By the seventh hit, Molten Jackal stopped making coherent sounds.

By the ninth, his eyes had rolled back.

By the twelfth, he was out cold, face swollen, scales completely dimmed, drool pooling beneath his cheek.

The kid finally stopped.

He straightened, exhaled slowly, and dropped the manhole cover beside the unconscious villain with a dull clang.

"There," he said, dusting off his hands. "Public safety secured."

Then—only then—did he turn to leave.

Sentinel stared at him, pale.

The spectators—phones raised—were dead silent.

___

[SPECTATOR POV – HARUKA]

Haruka had thought she'd seen everything today.

She was wrong.

She watched—along with at least fifty other people—as the hooded U.A. student walked back to the villain who'd just threatened him.

"Oh no," someone whispered.

"Is he—"

"He's going back—"

The villain started screaming.

"HEROES! HELP! THIS GUY IS GONNA KILL ME!"

Haruka's hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh my god—"

The kid picked up the manhole cover.

Again.

The villain shrieked louder.

Sentinel—Sentinel, the top hero of Hinohara—tried to intervene.

"Kid—"

The student looked at him.

Just… looked.

Sentinel stopped mid-sentence, face going pale, and took a step backward.

"You know what," Sentinel said, voice strained. "Public safety. You're right. I'll just… check the perimeter."

He walked away.

The crowd gasped.

"DID SENTINEL JUST—"

"HE LEFT—"

"THE VILLAIN IS BEGGING A HERO FOR HELP—"

The kid turned back to the villain.

"Any last words?"

"WAIT—"

THUNK.

Haruka flinched.

THUNK.

"Oh my god—"

THUNK.

"He's—He's just—"

THUNK.

THUNK.

THUNK.

Someone beside her whispered, "Count the hits. Count the hits."

"That's seven—"

"Eight—"

"Nine—"

"Is he gonna stop?!"

THUNK.

"That's twelve! TWELVE!"

The villain went limp.

The kid straightened, dusted off his hands like he'd just finished a particularly tedious chore, and dropped the manhole cover.

"There. Public safety secured."

He adjusted his hood

and walked away.

The crowd stood frozen.

Then—

Someone started clapping.

Slow. Deliberate.

Then another person joined.

Then another.

Within seconds, the entire block erupted into applause.

"YEAH!"

"GET HIM!"

"THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR THREATENING A KID!"

Haruka saved the video immediately.

Her hands were shaking.

"This is going viral," she whispered.

The man beside her nodded solemnly.

"Front page. Guaranteed."