In MHA, I Have A Pirated Version of Gojo's Limitless: 30 Four Months Later 2

### *U.A. High School - Faculty Room, Tuesday Afternoon*

"Anyone else's students talking about that Avatar book?" Mic asked, spinning in his chair during their brief break between classes.

Aizawa looked up from his grading, annoyed. "Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Midnight raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd appreciate a story where the main character doesn't rely on flashy powers to solve everything."

"I appreciate that my students are spending class time debating fictional military strategy instead of paying attention to actual hero tactics."

"But they ARE paying attention," Cementoss interjected. "My students have been asking more thoughtful questions about infrastructure and civilian protection since they started reading it. The book shows war from multiple perspectives—not just the heroes' side."

King Vlad, who had been quietly listening while eating his bento, finally spoke up. "I confess, I was curious after hearing so much about it. I read the first few chapters last night."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"And?"

"It's... profound," he said slowly. "The way it handles the burden of being a symbol, the weight of expectations placed on someone so young..." He looked directly at Midnight. "You were right to recommend it."

Midnight smiled, but there was something thoughtful in her expression. "There's something about the writing that feels familiar. Not the story—that's completely original. But the way it's structured, the themes it explores. It's like the author understands the psychology of heroism on a very deep level."

"You think it's a Pro Hero writing under a pseudonym?" Mic asked.

"Or someone who's spent a lot of time around heroes," she mused. "The combat scenes are too accurate, the emotional beats too precise. This isn't someone writing from imagination alone."

### *Everblue Publishing - Same Day*

Aya stared at her computer screen, scrolling through what had to be the hundredth interview request this week.

"We've got Good Morning Japan wanting to do a segment," her assistant called out. "They want to interview K.T.R.T about 'the new wave of Quirkless fiction.'"

"Same answer as always—author prefers to remain anonymous."

"HeroWatch Network is offering a pretty substantial fee for just a phone interview."

"No."

"What about—"

"The answer is no to all of them," Aya said firmly. "The contract was very clear about maintaining privacy. We honor that."

After a few more reports from the assistant, she left. Not long after, her phone buzzed with a text from a saved number:

"Saw the book at a store today. People are really talking about it. This is surreal. - K.T.R.T"*

She smiled and typed back:

"Get used to it. We're just getting started. Book sales are through the roof, and we haven't even announced the sequel plans yet."

"Sequel plans? That soon huh?"

"The contract covers the complete series, remember? Hope you've got Books 2 and 3 ready to go."

___

Japan had seen bestsellers before.

Tragedies. Scandals. Tell-all Pro Hero memoirs that sold like fire for a week and vanished the next. But The Last Airbender was not fire. It was frost. Quiet, creeping, persistent. A cold front that swept through the nation, settling deeper with each passing week.

It didn’t explode. It climbed.

Week one: modest digital traction.

Week two: a steady pulse of word-of-mouth.

Week three: the fan theories began.

Week four: a dedicated subreddit formed.

Week five: a sudden, jarring spike on Japan’s Weekly Literary Sales Rankings.

And now?

Week nine:

#3 on the National Literary Rankings.

#1 in Digital Fiction.

#1 in Youth Adventure.

#1 in Modern Fantasy.

#1 in Most Talked-About Novel on social media for four weeks straight.

Only Tatsuhiko Horikoshi’s ongoing war-time trilogy “The Last Glaive” and the global juggernaut “Echoes of a Shattered Moon” held higher overall sales. But industry veterans were watching the curve—The Last Airbender was closing the gap weekly.

It was something no one had predicted. A debut novel. No marketing campaign. No big-name author.

And worst of all for the media?

No author at all.

---

“Everblue Publishing has been bombarded.”

Aya Hoshino hadn’t slept properly in days. Her office at the Everblue headquarters looked like a war zone—half-drunk coffee, documents everywhere, and her tablet blinking with a hundred pending messages.

The press had gone insane.

“Anonymous Avatar Author Identified?”

“Is the Writer a Pro Hero?!”

“Fan Conspiracy Suggests Midnight Is the Actual Author.”

“Literary Hit Linked to U.A High?”

No matter how many rejections she sent, how many statements she gave, they just kept coming.

The author, of course, had requested absolute anonymity in the contract. She had added that clause herself before he even asked.

The amount of pressure that would come on a boy who was preparing for hero school due to the success of a hit novel was not something either wanted Ken to bear yet. Plus, it was also a way of protecting the agency itself.

And Aya Hoshino—god bless her weary soul—was fiercely honoring it.

Which was why she stood now at the center of a carefully prepared press conference, blinking under the heat of camera lights, a dozen microphones aimed her way.

“Thank you all for coming.” Aya spoke with calm professionalism, though her fingers trembled slightly behind the podium. “We understand there’s significant public interest in the identity of the author behind The Last Airbender. However, as stipulated in the legal agreement, Everblue Publishing is not at liberty to disclose any identifying information.”

A ripple of frustrated murmurs passed through the crowd.

“The author’s wish is to remain a private citizen. That wish will be honored.”

Someone called out. “But what about rumors that U.A High School is considering incorporating the book into its curriculum? Isn’t that public interest?”

Aya didn’t flinch. “That discussion is ongoing and entirely independent of the author’s identity.”

Another voice: “Is it true you’ve been approached about adaptation rights?”

A hint of a smile touched her lips. “Yes. We’ve received inquiries from multiple publishing houses and animation studios. The Last Airbender will be receiving a manga adaptation early next year. Animation is under consideration.”

A burst of noise and flashbulbs exploded at once.

“And one final question,” a woman with a press badge asked. “With this unprecedented success, will Everblue consider promoting you, Hoshino-san?”

That got a laugh from Aya. “I’ll have to ask my boss. But thank you.”

---

The conference footage aired that evening—every station, every major streaming site. But one segment in particular captured public attention.

A special sit-down interview.

Live.

Featuring R-Rated Hero: Midnight.

---

The lights dimmed. The opening sequence rolled.

The screen parted to reveal a sleek set, couches facing one another like sparring partners.

And there she was. Midnight. Dressed in a dark velvet coat over her hero costume, legs crossed, a teasing smirk on her lips.

She looked less like a dominatrix hero tonight and more like a woman on a talk show tour.

The host, Noriko Emura, sat across from her, clipboard in hand.

“Midnight-san,” Noriko began, “You were the very first pro hero to publicly comment on The Last Airbender. What was it that drew your attention?”

Midnight smiled, eyes glittering behind her mask. “The writing. It felt alive. There’s a rhythm to the storytelling that hits you in the gut. The themes—war, identity, grief, and balance—they mirror things even Pro Heroes deal with. And the characters... don’t get me started on Zuko.” She chuckled. “He’s practically my son now.”

Laughter from the audience.

“Do you know the author personally?” Noriko pressed, leaning in.

“Sadly, no.” Midnight leaned forward as well, voice sultry. “But if they’re watching this... call me.” A wink.

The crowd whooped and clapped.

“Do you believe the book is important enough to be used in hero training?”

Midnight’s voice turned serious. “Absolutely. The Last Airbender teaches empathy, critical thinking, conflict resolution—lessons most Pro Hero classes pretend to cover, but rarely engage with on a personal level. I’ve already sent in a proposal to Principal Nezu. Whether or not it’s accepted... is out of my hands.”

“But you think it should be.”

“I do.”

---

As the interview broadcast across city streets, on window-mounted megascreens and personal devices, it found its way to a quiet car stuck in traffic.

Ken sat in the passenger seat. His mother gripped the wheel, humming lightly as they waited for the red light to shift.

On the giant screen just ahead, Midnight leaned into her mic and purred:

“If I ever do meet the author... I’ll have so many questions. Maybe a private reading.”

Ken shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

His mom stifled a laugh. “So, Mr. Anonymous. How does it feel to be so popular?”

“Like I’m practically invisible,” he deadpanned.

She chuckled, her eyes practically dancing with mirth. “Smartass.” Then she nudged his arm. “You know, I never imagined my son would write something so… moving. You always loved your stories, but this? I’m proud of you.”

Ken said nothing for a moment. Just watched Midnight smile on the screen.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Akira smiled. “Just imagine going to U.A. and being taught with the very books you wrote.”

That actually made his face falter for a second, before dropping a line and making an expression that made her burst into laughter.

“That ... would probably be awkward. Not gonna lie”

---

Later that week, inside the teacher's conference hall at U.A., Midnight stood before Nezu, Present Mic, Aizawa, and a few others.

“I know it’s early,” she said. “And I know it’s just the first book. But The Last Airbender has touched on so many real-world themes—conflict resolution, restraint in the face of power, moral clarity. I believe it could be a powerful supplement for literature or ethics classes.”

Nezu sipped his tea, eyes twinkling. “Interesting… very interesting. Let's say we keep a close eye on the second book’s release and response. If the quality sustains, we might integrate excerpts for discussion.”

Midnight smiled. “That's all I ask.”

---

MUSTAFU, DAGOBA BEACH

The sky was overcast, grey clouds rolling lazily above as the ocean tides whispered against a shoreline still cluttered with rusted junk.

Izuku Midoriya grunted, dragging what looked like the rusted remains of a washing machine across the sand. His arms burned. His back ached. His breathing came in gasps—but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

“This is my only shot...”

The waves lapped gently as Izuku pushed it toward a pile of scrap. Sweat dripped down his face.

‘I have to do this.’

“Alright All Might!” he called. “What’s next—?”

But his mentor didn’t respond.

“All Might?”

Turning, he saw the man who usually showered him with encouragements and words of motivation sitting on a wrecked refrigerator. Eyes strongly focused on .... A piece of literature, it seemed.

Deku watched closely.

He seemed, rather engrossed.

‘Is that ... A ...?’

His thoughts were interrupted as All Might suddenly laughed. Loudly. Deeply. Holding a book in both hands, tears at the corners of his eyes.

“Oh My, that really cracks me up.”

“All Might?”

“Huh?” The blond man glanced up, black eyes widening in his shriveled form.

“Oh! Looks like you're done.”

“Um yeah.” Deku replied, scratching his head.

“I just finished. I called out to you a couple times but you didn't respond.”

“I see. Forgive my lack of attention, young Midoriya. I was just drawn in by this new novel I was recommended.”

He held the book up like a sacred artifact.

On the page was an artistic drawing of a bald kid with an arrow on his head alongside three other characters. Two males, one female, two in blue, one in red. Crowning it off were various elements placed across the book cover.

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER —

A SYMBOL'S JOURNEY TO RESTORE BALANCE.

Izuku blinked.

This story, “Isn’t that... the one all the students are talking about lately?” He had heard of it.

“Ah ... So you've heard of it.”

“Yeah. My classmates have been going on about it for a while now, but I was so busy with training recently that I never really got the chance to check. This is the same one?”

He asked, a little in disbelief that even all Might found it entertaining.

“The very same! I confess, I picked it up out oat the urging of a close friend of mine. He recommended it to me after Midnight spoke so passionately about it in her interview ... Said I would find some ... Enlightenment and nostalgia withing it.”

Toshinori (All Might), said while releasing a sigh. “As always, he was right. But I never expected it to hit so hard!”

“Is it .... that good?”

“Surprisingly so.” All Might replied, Gus tone not so casual, but a tad deeper.

“It reminds me of myself actually. More than I can say. It's rare to see a novel that portrays the weight that comes with being a symbol so accurately yet without making it seem too heavy all the time. The pacing's pretty good too. All in all its enjoyable, thematic, fresh, and the main character is very likable.”

All might lowered the book down. Placing a hand in his chin. Then, he turned to look at him.

“Um ... All Might?”

“Young Midoriya. I'd like you to read this Novel if you can make the time.”

“Huh?”

Deku froze. All Might's face was serious.

“If you're going to be the Next Symbol Of Peace, you'll need more than my Quirk. You'll need to understand what being The Symbol entails. It is imperative that you don't just train, but also remember why you train ... Why you fight. Why we bear the burden we do.” All Might said.

“Because there are people relying on us.” Izuku answered.

“Exactly. This book ... Touches on all that.”

Looking at the beautiful designed front cover of the Novel, Deku subconsciously swallowed.

‘All that, from a book?’

“.... oh ... Sure. If you want me to. I was thinking of getting it anyway once I saw you enjoying it.”

“That's the spirit. Trust me, you'll love it. This Sokka character is hilarious—and Zuko ... Reminds me of that hot tempered friend of yours you keep telling me about! They sound like the could have a lot in common.”

“Alright now. Where were we?”

___