MHA: Animari

The final day of school feels like any other. Classes drag on, one after another until the bell rings to signal the end of the day. Malik slouches in his seat, his golden hair flowing as he stares out the window. 

The air in the classroom is thick with a mix of excitement and anticipation, the other students buzzing with plans for the summer. But Malik doesn't share that same energy.

He could easily slip away to the roof, take a nap, and escape the noise. But as the day winds to an end, he decides against it. 

The roof is tempting, but there's something oddly peaceful about just sitting through the last day. The noise of his classmates blends into the background as he lets his mind wander.

As the final bell rings, Malik grabs his bad, not in any particular rush, but still eager to leave the confines of the school. He walks out of the classroom and heads out of the school.

As he exits the gates of the school, he notices construction work blocking the usual route home. The workers are busy, and the traffic is backed up, so Malik decides to take a different [ath, one that cuts through the quieter side streets.

It's a detour, nothing special. Just a way to avoid the hustle and bustle.

The alley he turns down is narrow, lined with trash bins and the occasional forgotten boxes. He walks calmly, his steps steady, his golden eyes scanning the surroundings with the casual alertness he's always had.

It's peaceful, the distant noise of the city barely reaching him. He can already feel the warmth of the evening air, the sun hanging low in the sky.

But then, as he rounds a corner, he sees them.

A group of gangsters loiters at the other end of the alleyway, leaning against the walls and blocking the path. There are five of them, all wearing the same rough attire--dirty jackets, tattoos, and an air of menace that hangs thick in the air.

They notice Malik almost immediately their eyes narrowing, sizing him up.

One of them steps forward. Tall, with a sharp grin plastered on his face.

"Ohh," He says, his voice dripping with mock amusement.

"Look who we got here. Pretty boy walkin' through our alley. You lost or something?"

Malik stops, assessing them for a moment. His expression remains, unbothered. He doesn't flinch or change his pace. He simply meets his eyes.

"If I was lost, I'd be looking for directions. But I'm just minding my business."

The footsteps speed up, cutting off his path. Malik glances up to see a group of four of them blocking his path.

None of them looked like the brightest crayons in the box--more like the dull ones. Their leather jackets and untamed hair were a dead giveaway that they had nothing better to do than pick fights with someone who wasn't going to make them work for it.

One of them, the biggest of the bunch, steps forward with a grin that could only be described as 'annoyingly overconfident.' "Well, you don't look like you belong here."

Malik just raises an eyebrow, glancing at the guy like he's a math problem that just doesn't make sense. 

"You guys lost or just looking for trouble?"

The other three gangsters laugh, but Malik's not paying them much attention.

The other three gangsters laugh, but Malik's not paying them much attention.

The big guy's smile fades, and he cracks his knuckles. "You're the one looking for trouble now, kid. How about we help you find it?"

Malik sighs and takes a casual step back. "I really don't have time for this. I'm just trying to get home." He looks them over once more, then shakes his head.

"Don't talk like you're tough," one of the guys sneers. "You don't know who you're messing with."

Malik shrugs. "Yeah, well, you don't know me either."

Then, without giving them any more time to think, he steps forward. His movements are smooth, and calculated, but there's a hint of excitement bubbling under his calm demeanor. He can feel it in his gut—the adrenaline starting to rush in.

This is what he lives for. Fighting stronger people? Sure, he'd get to that later. But a fight, any fight, was always a chance to show off a little bit.

The big guy lunges, his fist coming down hard, but Malik's already steps out of the way, his feet barely shifting as the punch misses by inches.

The gang member's eyes widen, but he doesn't have time to process what just happened. Malik brings up a knee into his gut, sending the guy stumbling back, gasping for air.

As he does, Malik focuses on the trash can nearby. Without a single thought, a black, monster-like creature forms from the can.

It's a dark, amorphous thing with glowing red eyes and sharp limbs that stretch and bend like they have a mind of their own. The creature lurches forward, attacking the gangsters, and they freak out.

"W-Wait! What the hell is that thing?!"

Malik cracks a grin, not breaking his stride. "Yeah, I'm pretty good at making things move. Got a lot of practice with my quirk."

One of the gang members tries to use his quirk to control metal, but Malik watches with mild disinterest as the guy struggles. The monster slashes at him, forcing him to backpedal and drop his concentration. Malik isn't impressed.

Turning his focus to the other two gangsters still coming after him, he closes the gap in a couple of strides. The first one throws a punch, and Malik simply sidesteps it with ease, landing a quick jab to the guy's ribcage. The guy grunts in pain but doesn't go down. Malik's grin widens, and he presses the attack, landing a solid elbow to the guy's temple. He drops like a sack of potatoes.

The second gangster tries to kick him, but Malik catches his leg, spinning him around before throwing him into the nearest wall. The guy slumps to the ground with a yelp, groaning in pain.

Malik sighs and looks down at the group. "You guys really need to pick better fights. You know, you could've just let me go"

The gang members are scrambling now, but it's clear they're not going to get back up anytime soon. The monster Malik summoned is taking care of the last of them. He watches it for a second, the red aura around its form pulsing, glowing in the dim light of the alleyway. It's just a manifestation of his quirk, but the power in it is always fun to wield.

"See?" Malik says, his tone casual again. "I wasn't even trying. Next time, maybe go for someone with a better sense of humor."

He shrugs and starts walking away, the alleyway silent behind him. The creature dissipates into nothingness, leaving only the groaning sounds of the gangsters as evidence of what just happened.

Malik takes a breath, finally feeling like his day is back on track.

As he walks down the rest of the alley, he doesn't really care about the people who'll see him walk by.

They're either scared of him, impressed, or too dumb to know what's going on. He doesn't care much either way.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. He grabs some food, hangs out at a nearby park for a while, and does the usual teenage thing—messing around, watching some street performers, and pretending to be a part of something bigger.

It's not even a question of whether or not he'll be a hero. He will. He's always known that. But it's the challenge, the fighting, the constant push to be better that drives him.

Later, when he gets home, it's quiet as usual. He kicks off his shoes, tosses his backpack onto the couch, and looks at the TV. Nothing is interesting, just the usual news stuff—people talking about All Might or whatever else is trending.