My Mangekyo Sharingan Can't Save My Hero Academia: 13 Manhole Cover 2

The man Yuta tapped—gray jacket, laptop bag, tired eyes—turned toward him.

“Oh—uh… villains,” he said, gesturing toward the distant flames. “A small group. Happened maybe ten minutes ago.”

Another thud echoed across the rooftops, faint but sharp enough to make a few people flinch.

“They’re pushing into the commercial block,” the man continued. “Local heroes are already there. They’re doing their best.”

The last part came out with the tone of someone trying to politely lie.

Yuta understood why. The Hinohara Hero Agency ... Otherwise known as the SENTINEL AGENCY, was competent—hardworking, vigilant as they needed to be in a place like Hinohara—but their specialties leaned toward rescue, evacuation, hazard control.

Not frontline combat.

Not multi-villain brawls. Simply put, whatever they were up against, they were losing. But that couldn't exactly be told to a teenager, now could he?

The man scratched his cheek, eyes narrowing at the flickering lights.

“…Honestly, I hope they called for backup. Two or three villains is rough for a team like them.”

A woman nearby chimed in, hugging her shopping bag to her chest.

“They’ve had more trouble lately. Villains know Hinohara isn’t Saitama City or Shinjuku. Smaller agencies. Easier targets.”

Her companion, probably husband, shrugged. “Hinohara’s agency is underfunded. They’re better at evacuation than combat. If two or three villains show up at once, it gets messy.”

Yuta’s eyes narrowed.

That… sounded familiar.

The agency his mom used to work for.

More rescuers than fighters.

Good hearted, exhausted people who did thankless work and didn’t make headlines. Or at least that's how he initially saw it.

In all likelihood, many were there because their quirks didn't allow them to level up in the ranks.

Another burst of orange illuminated the sky—this time accompanied by the unmistakable crack of concrete splitting.

People murmured again, but still nobody panicked.

Hinohara wasn’t a major city.

Villain incidents were rare, but not unheard of.

Everyone had gotten used to watching danger from a distance.

Yuta watched with them.

Eventually he let out a breath and sighed.

“…This day just keeps getting worse ...”

Hinohara was a quiet city.

Not sleepy—it had enough population to sustain a mall, a hospital, a train station, a handful of schools.

But it wasn't Tokyo.

It wasn't Musutafu.

It was the kind of place people moved to when they wanted affordable housing and a slower pace of life.

Crime was low. Villain activity was rare.

The Hinohara Hero Agency reflected that reality.

Fifteen active heroes. Maybe twenty support staff. A single modest office building near the city center.

Their strongest hero—Sentinel, a veteran with a barrier quirk—was barely known outside the prefecture. A solid C-lister who'd spent his entire career doing steady, reliable work.

No flashy rescues. No viral moments. Just quiet competence.

The rest of the roster was similar. Mid-tier pros. Solid fundamentals. Great at coordination. But when it came to raw combat power?

They couldn't match the heavy hitters in the major cities.

And villains knew it.

Over the past six months, Hinohara had seen a slow uptick in criminal activity. Small-time groups testing the waters. Petty theft. Vandalism.

And now this. A coordinated attack. Multiple villains. The kind of situation that required firepower Hinohara's heroes weren't built for.

Yuta stared at the distant flames.

“…Great. Hinohara is getting DLC content.”

A kid near him snorted.

His mom immediately dragged him away from the “bad influence.”

Yuta ignored them.

He wasn’t in the mood to be a role model.

He wasn’t in the mood for much of anything except maybe punching a concrete wall until his hand broke.

He rubbed his temple.

“Of all days…”

He turned away from the railings. Enough rubbernecking. Enough explosions. He wanted to go home, lie on his face, and pretend the last three hours didn’t exist.

He took maybe seven steps before a gust of hot air rolled past the station, carrying dust and the faint smell of burning plastic.

People flinched.

Someone murmured, “Wow… they’re getting closer.”

Yuta stopped mid-step.

"…Wait, what?"

He turned his head slowly—very slowly—back toward the distant flames.

They were closer.

Noticeably closer.

The orange glow had spread from two blocks away to maybe one and a half. Smoke billowed thicker now, dark against the evening sky.

Another shockwave rattled the station fence.

A woman near the railing gasped. "They're being pushed back!"

"Sentinel's barrier broke!" someone else shouted. "The villains are advancing!"

Yuta's eye twitched.

Around him, the crowd pressed closer to the railings, murmuring with equal parts concern and morbid fascination. Phones rose like a forest of glowing rectangles.

Another gust of hot air rolled through the station—closer this time—followed by a sharp, metallic clang from somewhere down the street.

Yuta pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Perfect. Side quest proximity alert."

He didn't want to look.

He really didn't want to look.

He looked anyway.

Through the gaps in the buildings, past the fence, he could see it: a lone figure in navy-blue armor crouched behind a flickering barrier dome. The shield was cracked, spider-webbed, barely holding.

And stalking toward it was a villain who moved like he owned the entire prefecture.

Tall. Muscular. Covered in overlapping metal scales that shimmered orange and red like molten steel. His arms ended in clawed hands that sparked against the pavement with every step.

He raised one hand, and a ball of superheated energy—molten, roiling, angry—formed in his palm.

The villain cackled.

Full chest. Echoing. Dramatic.

Way too energetic for a Tuesday evening.

"IS THAT IT?!" the villain roared. "THAT'S THE BEST HINOHARA HAS?!"

I deadpanned.

What kind of low budget movie scene did this one jump out of?

The villain hurled the molten blast.

It hit the barrier dead-center.

The dome cracked further, fragments of hard-light scattering like broken glass.

The hero behind it—Sentinel—staggered, one arm hanging limp, blood dripping from beneath his cracked visor.

Yuta stared.

Then blinked.

"…Is that a C-lister?"

He squinted harder.

Navy armor. Silver trim. Helmet shaped like a bird's beak.

Recognition clicked.

"Mr. Yoruichi?"

Yuta's brain supplied the information automatically: Sentinel. Real name Yoruichi Kamekaze Quirk: Barrier Generation. Solid mid-tier hero. Decent guy.

As head of the resident pro hero agency in Hinohara, he was famous the way a local toothpaste celebrity was famous.

Yuta had seen him once when Mom took him to work. The guy was in his forties now, thinning hairline, a mustache and carried a greasy smile when talking to the ladies.

In his now developed view, the definition of a sleazy uncle.

There wasn't much relationship. Guy wasn't all good, neither was he all bad. He didn't have the wise, reserved aura one woud expect of a veteran hero.

Rather he was boisterous, loved smoking, made terrible jokes and had a mouth full of obscenities not meant for children.

Carrying the vibe of a small time hooligan hero and right now looked like a man who deeply regretted not taking up accounting.

"My guy is losing to someone whose power is angry Gatorade."

The villain raised both hands, gathering another blast—bigger this time, brighter, hotter.

Sentinel's barriers developed more and more cookie cracks.

Once.

Twice.

The crowd fell silent.

Someone whispered, "He's not gonna make it…"

Yuta stood perfectly still, bag slung over his shoulder, jaw set at the tired angle reserved for people who have already had the worst day ever and refuse to negotiate further with fate.

He looked at the villain.

Then at Sentinel.

Then at his own reflection in the station's glass barrier, and fell into deep thought.

'I did say I wanted to hit someone.'

His eye twitched.

'What am I thinking? That's an actual villains.'

Then the image of a small girl with horns appeared in his mind.

The crowd gasped.

Yuta exhaled through his teeth.

“…Fine.”

He dropped from the platform stairs.

'If I'm gonna do this. ..'

Cut through the side alley.

'.. I'll need something heavy ..'

And kicked open a maintenance hatch. A stack of rusted manhole covers leaned against the wall.

'This will have to do.'

He grabbed one. It weighed like a bad decision.

He rolled his shoulder, adjusted his grip, and walked back into the alley.

The battle was just one block over now. Close enough to hear every word.

The villain's voice echoed off the buildings.

"YOU CALL YOURSELF A HERO?! PATHETIC! I'LL BURN THIS ENTIRE CITY TO THE—"

Yuta stepped into the intersection.

The villain's back was to him, arms raised dramatically, molten energy crackling between his claws.

Sentinel was on one knee, barrier gone, breathing ragged.

"Help! Somebody!"

"That Villain's gonna kill him!"

"Come on SENTINEL! GET UP!"

Nobody noticed Yuta.

He pressed his thumb to the manhole cover.

Kanji.

Lift.

Suddenly, the somewhat heavy manhole cover turned weightless. In Hero Society, as long as it wasn't for immediate, justified self defense, unlicensed Quirk usage was against the law. Even for minors, some jail time would be inevitable alongside heavy discipline.

However, that only applied if others knew you were using your quirk.

Making sure there were no cameras around, he took three steps forward—quiet, unhurried—and swung like a baseball pitcher.

THUNK.

The manhole cover connected with the back of his skull with a hollow, gong-like resonance that rippled through the street. The villain froze mid-monologue, eyes crossing faintly as his knees buckled.

PLOP!

With no dignity whatsoever, he hit the pavement face first.

Silence.

Complete, absolute silence.

Sentinel blinked behind his cracked visor, trying to figure out whether divine intervention was canonically allowed in Hinohara.

Someone whispered, "…Did that just—" THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!

The sound of footsteps echoed loudly in the silence.

Gazes and cameras turned to see what looked to be a young boy stepping out of a dim alley. His face was covered with a hood, leaving strands of red hair peaked out at the very top.

He wore a U.A blazer uniform, had both hands in his pockets, and walked with the detached aura of a practical teenager who had begun questioning the meaning of life. And the most eye-catching detail? He was holding a manhole cover.

The villain groaned.

His clawed hand twitched.

Slowly—painfully—he pushed himself up onto his elbows.

"Wha… what the hell… who…?"

Yuta sighed.

He adjusted his grip on the manhole cover, stepped forward, and swung again.

THUNK.

Flat. Clean. Like swatting a stubborn roach.

The villain's head bounced off the pavement.

His molten scales flickered and dimmed.

A man in the distant crowd went, "…Oohh—"

The villain wheezed, tried to speak, and attempted a third rise.

"WHY YOU LITTLE ..."

Wrong choice.

"Still wanna get up huh?"

Yuta, now visibly done with the entire planet, lifted the manhole cover overhead and brought it down with perfect, baseball-bat precision.

THUNK.

Direct hit.

Right between the legs.

The villain's eyes went wide.

His mouth opened in a silent scream.

Then he collapsed face-first into the pavement and didn't move again.

Every single man within a fifty-meter radius made the same involuntary sound—a collective, visceral noise of sympathetic agony.

Hands moved reflexively to cover groins.

Knees pressed together. Parents covered children eyes.

"Ooooohhh—"

"Oh my god—"

"He didn't—"

"HE DID—"

A salaryman clutched his chest. "That form… that technique… flawless."

Another man whispered reverently, "Respectfully, that villain is not having children."

Yuta dropped the manhole cover beside the semi conscious villain with a dull clang.

He exhaled sharply, adjusted his hood, and turned away.

"Cool. Problem solved. I'm going home."

He walked.

Hands back in his pockets. Posture slouched.

However, before he could get far ...

"Y

ou ... You .." He stopped, then turned his head. Laying on the ground with a livid face, the villain swore viciously.

"I'll ... You'll pay for this .."

Yuta's brows raised.

"Is that so?"

His expressionless face seemed to blossom with something. A small, evil smile.

"I will ..." The villain stopped. Seeing his features, a chill ran up his spine for no reason.