A year had passed since Aokiji saved a group of civilians from a burning building—a moment that turned into a national story. News outlets praised his quick thinking and heroic use of his quirk, citing him as a model example of someone who broke the rules for the right reasons. His name echoed through media and social platforms, sparking public debate about whether individuals like him should be granted emergency-use permits for their quirks.
A petition quickly gathered support, demanding that Aokiji be given a provisional license to act in emergencies. However, despite overwhelming public backing, the government rejected it. Japan's legal system was notoriously rigid, bound to tradition and procedure. Even Aokiji's grandfather, head of the Hero Public Safety Commission, refused to support the petition.
"If I bend the rules for my grandson, I'd be tearing down the system for everyone else," he said firmly in an interview, eyes cold with conviction.
Now, Aokiji walked through the streets of Musutafu, his hands in his pockets, dressed casually with his signature heavy boots clinking faintly against the pavement. He kept his head low, not to avoid recognition, but out of habit—he had long grown tired of attention.
As he turned onto a side street, his sharp instincts caught the shift in atmosphere. People were panicking, running from something up ahead. Screams echoed through the alleyways. He picked up his pace.
Rounding a corner, he stopped.
There in the center of the road stood a massive figure, muscles bulging grotesquely, veins pulsing, towering over two exhausted pro heroes. The villain was laughing, mocking them.
It was Muscular.
Aokiji's eyes narrowed.
"I could crush these civvies like bugs!" Muscular bellowed, holding the hood of a nearby car high above his head, preparing to hurl it at a cluster of civilians who were trapped behind a toppled bus.
The two heroes—a pair with water-based quirks—were shaking, barely standing. Their costumes were torn, blood streaking their faces. Aokiji looked at them more closely. He recognized them.
Water quirks... Kota's parents.
The memory hit him. Muscular murdered them in the canon of his old world. If he didn't act now, history would repeat itself.
Then the hood flew.
Aokiji didn't think. His body moved on its own.
In a flash, a towering ice pillar burst from the ground, intercepting the chunk of metal mid-air. It shattered into icy fragments, scattering harmlessly to the side. Gasps filled the street.
Muscular turned, his manic grin faltering slightly.
"The hell? Who—"
Another surge of cold air rippled through the street as Aokiji stepped forward, eyes calm, voice cold.
"That's far enough."
Muscular's eye twitched, his bloodlust rising. "You wanna be next, Ice Boy?"
Aokiji didn't answer. His hand was already raised, the air around him dropping several degrees.
The civilians behind the bus looked on, wide-eyed. The two heroes staggered back in shock.
One of them whispered, "Is that… the kid from the fire last year?"
The other nodded. "That's Aokiji."
Muscular growled, veins bulging, as his quirk activated to the maximum. Muscle fibers exploded from his skin, wrapping around his body like layers of armor. He began to resemble something straight out of a nightmare—his figure now bloated, grotesque, and hulking like the Tanker Zombie from Left 4 Dead. The ground trembled slightly with every step he took. His breath was ragged, unhinged.
Aokiji, calm and unmoving, stood tall in front of the exhausted heroes and the panicked civilians. He simply looked at Muscular as if the villain were nothing more than an angry toddler throwing a tantrum.
Then, he spoke—softly, yet every word carried weight.
"You better surrender, villain. Otherwise… I won't be able to guarantee your safety. For your sake, surrender quietly."
The street fell silent.
Muscular's face twisted with rage. "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!" he screamed. The insult, the condescension, was too much for his fragile ego to bear.
Without another word, Muscular charged. His massive feet cracked the asphalt beneath him, his fist cocked back, muscles churning like coiled ropes. He aimed a full-force punch at Aokiji, intending to crush his skull.
But Aokiji didn't move.
Just as the punch was about to land, he casually raised one hand and caught the blow.
CRACK.
The sound wasn't from Aokiji. It came from Muscular's bones. The moment Aokiji's palm met his fist, intense cold surged through Muscular's arm, racing up like a tidal wave. Ice began to creep over the villain's muscles, freezing the enhanced fibers on contact. His eyes widened in shock as his punch ground to a halt.
"Nngghhh—!" Muscular grunted, trying to wrench himself free. But the more he struggled, the faster the ice spread.
In seconds, his entire arm was encased in a crystalline prison of ice. Aokiji's grip didn't waver.
Then Muscular did the unthinkable.
With a sickening roar, he raised his other arm and smashed it into his frozen limb, shattering his own arm into jagged fragments. Blood splattered across the pavement. The force of the blow sent ice and muscle flying.
Even Aokiji's eyes narrowed slightly.
He actually did it…? he thought. He's willing to destroy himself just to keep fighting?
That level of self-destructive madness… only reminded Aokiji of one other person: Dabi.
As the ice dispersed, Muscular let out a guttural breath and turned. He didn't attack again.
He ran.
He bolted in the opposite direction, smashing through parked cars and street lamps in his path. His broken arm dangled uselessly at his side. The sheer pain and fear had overpowered even his bloodlust.
But Aokiji snapped out of his thoughts—his eyes narrowing coldly, emotionless.
In an instant, the ground beneath Muscular erupted in jagged frost. A wave of glacial air surged outward, and within a heartbeat, Muscular was completely encased in solid ice, frozen mid-run. His monstrous figure was captured perfectly—arms outstretched, face contorted in fury, now twisted into a look of terror. The civilians gasped at the sudden change, the sheer speed and precision of the freezing overwhelming.
Aokiji approached slowly, his footsteps echoing with the crunch of frost beneath his feet.
His gaze was cold. Calculating.
He stood in front of the frozen Muscular, his breath visible in the frigid air. Without a word, he reached out and grabbed Muscular's remaining arm—and with a small flex of power, he shattered it. Ice and flesh exploded like brittle glass.
Then, he moved to Muscular's leg.
CRACK.
Another limb was shattered, fragments of muscle and ice scattering across the street.
Only one limb remained.
Muscular was completely immobilized, locked inside his icy prison, but now with three of his four limbs obliterated—gone, not just paralyzed, but permanently lost.
Aokiji crouched slightly and began to slowly unfreeze Muscular from the chest up. The process was precise, meticulous—melting only what he intended to. Steam hissed from the ice as it evaporated into mist.
Muscular's expression gradually emerged—eyes wide, mouth agape, trembling. He wasn't screaming. He couldn't. His mind was reeling from the trauma, from the realization.
The hero who had stopped him… hadn't done so with mercy.
He had shattered him utterly, both physically and mentally.
As the frost melted from Muscular's face, Aokiji spoke softly, yet every word struck like a dagger.
"You had your chance to surrender. I gave you a way out."
Muscular's teeth chattered.
"Now all you have left… is the memory of your own arrogance. Remember that. Every day you wake up—if you wake up—you'll know I took your future away before you even realized you lost."