THE OBSERVATION DECK
Chapter One: The Weight of Watching
They've been chasing her for months on end .
They've never seen her real face.
Now they're trapped in a room with her sleeping body—and a host who's about to show them everything.
The Jester has been playing the fool since the day she arrived.
In the garbage wasteland of Gachiakuta, she cartwheeled into the Pit with painted smiles and jingling bells, annoying everyone she met while secretly healing their wounds and whispering their deepest traumas into their ears. The Cleaners thought she was a nuisance. The Raiders thought she was a joke. Now she's gone—vanished to the Sphere to play princess—and they'd burn the world down to get her back.
In the hero-saturated world of My Hero Academia, she crashed into U.A. with glitter pens and stolen pudding, determined to fail the entrance exam and disappear into obscurity. Instead, she became the Symbol of Balance. The human heart of heroism. The quirkless girl who stared down All For One and laughed. Now she's unconscious in a hospital bed, and the villains who want her blood are standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the heroes who'd die for her.
Neither realm knows the other exists.
Neither realm knows the truth about her.
Maria knows.
She's the blonde-haired, red-eyed menace who dragged them all into a pocket dimension—past selves and present, heroes and villains, Cleaners and Raiders—and stripped away their powers. Now they're trapped in a theater in space, forced to watch the Jester's greatest hits on a massive screen.
The 90%: her chaos. Her silliness. The mask she wears so well.
The 10%: her fury. Her menace. The death glare that makes gods hesitate.
And the one thing she's never shown anyone: her bare face, peaceful in sleep, looking like an angel who fell too far and forgot how to fly back up.
They're not ready.
But they're about to find out
Welcome to the Observation Deck.
A reaction fic like no other. Two universes collide. Fifty-plus characters. Past and present. Obsession, chaos, and a sleeping girl who has no idea she's the most dangerous thing in the room.
THE FALL
The first sign that something was wrong was the silence.
Not the quiet of a hospital room at three in the morning—the beeping machines, the distant squeak of rubber soles on linoleum, the soft rustle of someone turning in a chair they weren't supposed to fall asleep in. No. This was a different silence. The kind that pressed against eardrums. The kind that meant the air itself had been replaced with something else.
Izuku Midoriya felt it before he saw it.
One moment, his hand was wrapped around the Jester's—cold, too cold, her fingers limp and pale without the usual paint that covered every inch of visible skin. The next moment, the floor gave, and he was falling through light that wasn't light, through space that wasn't space, through a scream that died in his throat because there was no air to carry it.
Katsuki Bakugo hit the ground like a bomb that forgot how to explode.
He landed in a crouch, palms slamming against a floor that felt like polished stone but hummed like something alive. His first instinct—the instinct drilled into him since he was four years old—was fire. Quirk. Explosion. Move.
Nothing happened.
His palms itched. They sparked. A pathetic, damp fizzle that wouldn't have lit a candle.
"What the—" He whipped his head up, scanning. Hospital gown? No. He was in his hero costume. The same one he'd been wearing when he walked into her room. When did that— "HEY! WHERE THE HELL IS THIS?!"
His voice echoed. Too much. The walls were wrong. The ceiling was wrong. Everything was white—not the warm white of U.A.'s hallways, but a sterile, infinite white that stretched in every direction like the inside of a cloud that had been dead for a thousand years.
And the windows.
The walls weren't walls. They were glass. Endless, seamless glass that showed a sky full of stars that didn't match any constellation Bakugo had ever seen. Stars that swirled. Stars that bled into each other. Stars that hung in a void so deep and black it looked like the universe had swallowed its own tongue.
They were in space.
Shota Aizawa's eyes snapped open.
He hadn't realized they'd closed. The fall had been disorienting—not painful, but wrong, like his body had been folded through a dimension it wasn't designed to survive. He was standing. When did he stand? His capture weapon was wrapped around his neck. His goggles were pushed up on his forehead. His feet were planted.
He counted.
Midoriya. Bakugo. Uraraka. Todoroki. Asui. Kirishima. Ashido. Kaminari. Jiro. Sero. Tokoyami. Yaoyorozu. Hagakure. Ojiro. Koda. Sato. Aoyama. Mineta.
All of them. Class 1-A. Scattered across the white floor, picking themselves up, checking for injuries, reaching for quirks that weren't answering.
"Everyone stay where you are," Aizawa said. His voice was flat. Controlled. The voice he used when he was calculating exactly how many bones he was willing to break to get his kids home safe. "Don't move until I tell you to."
"Eraserhead." All Might's voice. Toshinori Yagi, gaunt and hollow-chested, was climbing to his feet near the glass wall. He was in his hero costume too—the silver age suit, the one he rarely wore anymore. "The students—"
"Are accounted for." Aizawa was already moving, weaving through the group, a head count running behind his eyes. "Nezu?"
"Here!" The principal's voice came from somewhere near the back. Nezu was sitting on a floating tray of snacks—snacks—that hadn't been there a moment ago. He was holding a cup of tea. His whiskers twitched. "Fascinating. We appear to have been transported to a pocket dimension with artificial gravity, breathable atmosphere, and..." He sniffed the tea. "Chamomile. My favorite. Our host knows me."
"Host?" Todoroki's voice. Quiet. Dangerous. He was standing apart from the others, his heterochromatic eyes fixed on something across the room. "There are other people here."
Aizawa turned.
The room was divided.
Not by walls or barriers, but by time.
Above each section, floating in holographic light, were labels that shifted between languages everyone could somehow read:
LEFT SIDE — THE PAST
GACHIAKUTA — BEFORE THEY KNEW HER
MHA — BEFORE SHE ARRIVED
RIGHT SIDE — THE PRESENT
GACHIAKUTA — AFTER SHE DISAPPEARED
MHA — THE HOSPITAL VIGIL
On the left side—the Past—stood the versions of these people who had never met the Jester. Or rather, who had met her but hadn't yet understood her. They wore the same clothes as their future selves, but their eyes were different. Less haunted. Less hungry.
The Past Cleaners stood in a loose cluster near a set of salvaged-metal benches. Rudo Surebrec—younger, angrier, still wearing the gloves he didn't fully understand—was staring at his own hands with confusion. Enjin stood beside him, arms crossed, his easy smile not quite reaching his eyes. Zanka was gripping his staff that wouldn't work. Riyo was watching the room with sharp, calculating eyes.
Near them, the Past Raiders kept their distance. Zodyl sat on a crate, legs crossed, watching everything with the patience of a predator who hadn't decided whether to strike. Jabber Wonger was laughing—a high, sharp sound—and spinning a coin between his fingers. Cthoni perched on a stack of debris, her legs swinging. Noerde stood apart, her arms folded, her expression unreadable.
And on the far left, the Past (more like—ahem.. nevermind.. you'll know soon enough why this realm is a jit different) MHA cast huddled together like lost children. Class 1-A in their gym uniforms, fresh-faced and untested. Aizawa with both eyes still functioning properly. All Might in his muscle form, still the Symbol of Peace, still whole. The villains—Shigaraki, Toga, Dabi, Twice, the rest—were scattered in their own section, separated from the heroes by an invisible line that everyone respected and no one questioned.
On the right side—the Present—stood the versions of these people who had lived through the Jester.
They were the same people. But they were not the same.
Present Rudo stood with his back straight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes were fixed on the center of the room—on the sleeping girl none of them had ever seen without her paint—and his expression was territorial. Hungry. He looked like a man who had lost something precious and had just found it again.
Present Enjin stood beside him, his easygoing smile long gone. In its place was something harder. Something that said try me without a single word.
Present Zanka was holding a staff that wouldn't activate, but his knuckles were white. His jaw was tight. His eyes never left the Jester's face.
Present Riyo had tears in her eyes. She wasn't trying to hide them.
Near them, the Present Raiders were vibrating. Present Zodyl was leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, his dark eyes fixed on the sleeping girl with an intensity that made the air around him feel heavy. Present Jabber was pressed against the railing of his section, his fingers curled around the metal, his grin too wide and his eyes too bright. Present Cthoni kept flexing her fingers, testing for powers that wouldn't come. Present Noerde stood with her arms crossed, her jaw tight, her gaze flicking between the Jester and everyone else in the room.
And on the far right, the Present MHA cast was a study in exhaustion and obsession.
Present Midoriya had dark circles under his eyes. His notebook was clutched to his chest, pages and pages filled with notes about her—her habits, her secrets, her safety risks. He hadn't slept in three days. Not since she collapsed.
Present Bakugo stood with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders tight, his ears red. He wasn't looking at anyone else. He was looking at her. Only her.
Present Todoroki had been researching tarot for weeks. He understood The Fool now. He understood The Hope. He understood that she had been trying to tell them something, and none of them had listened.
Present Aizawa looked like he hadn't slept in a decade. His capture weapon was wrapped around his neck, useless. His eyes were fixed on the Jester's sleeping form with an expression that was equal parts exhaustion and fury—not at her. At himself. For not protecting her better.
Present All Might sat in a chair that seemed too small for him, his gaunt frame folded in on itself. He had brought her strawberry milk in the hospital. He had cried when she told him he was still a hero. He was still crying now, just a little, just silently.
Present Nezu was very still. His whiskers didn't twitch. His paws were folded in his lap. He was watching the Jester with the expression of someone who had made a miscalculation and was trying to figure out how to fix it.
Present Shigaraki sat in the villain section, his fingers curled into claws, scratching at the armrest of his chair. His eyes were dark hollows beneath his father's hand. He was staring at the Jester like she was the only real thing in the room.
Present Toga was vibrating. She was perched on the edge of her seat, her hands pressed together, her eyes wide and sparkling. She wanted to touch. She wanted to taste. She wanted to become.
Present Dabi leaned against the back of his chair, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. But he wasn't relaxed. He was watching. He was always watching.
Between them all, in the center of the room, was the floating platform.
And on it, curled on her side with her hands tucked under her cheek, was the Jester.
She was asleep.
Her face was bare.
No paint. No bells. No cards clutched in her fingers. Her hair—dark, longer than anyone had ever seen it, spilling across the velvet like ink—was free of its usual messy buns. Her costume was gone, replaced by something soft and white and simple. A nightgown. She was wearing a nightgown.
She looked young.
She looked tired.
She looked like someone who had finally, finally stopped running.
THE HOST
A flicker of light at the front of the room.
A stage materialized—black lacquer, curved like a crescent moon, surrounded by floating screens that displayed static and spinning question marks. At the center of the stage stood a control panel covered in buttons, levers, and stickers of smiling animals.
And behind the control panel, hopping up onto it to sit cross-legged, was a girl.
She was young. Maybe twenty. Maybe younger. Her hair was blonde—pale, almost white in the strange light—pulled into messy pigtails that stuck out at odd angles. Her eyes were red. Bright, sharp, hungry red, like fresh blood or polished rubies. She wore a dress covered in question marks that seemed to shift and change every time someone looked away. Her boots were covered in doodles. Her smile was too wide.
She was holding a microphone.
She tapped it.
Tap. Tap.
The sound echoed through the room like a gunshot.
"HELLO, OBSESSED WEIRDOS!"
Everyone flinched.
Maria—for that was her name, though no one had said it yet—grinned. Her red eyes swept across the room, cataloguing, enjoying.
"Welcome to the Observation Deck! I'm your host, Maria, and I have been waiting for this." She spun in a circle, her heels clicking against the stage, her pigtails flying. "Oh, don't give me those looks. You're all confused. You're all scared. You all want to know why you're here and when you can leave and why your powers don't work." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the control panel. "The answer to all of those questions is: you can't."
Bakugo lunged forward. "THE HELL WE CAN'T—"
"SIT." Maria pointed at him. The word wasn't loud. But Bakugo sat. His body moved without his permission. His eyes went wide with fury and something that might have been fear.
"What did you do to me?!" he snarled.
"I told you to sit," Maria said. "And you sat. Because in this room, I'm the one with the power. Not you. Not All Might. Not your weird trash scavenger friends." She gestured at the Gachiakuta side. "None of you have any control here. So let's get that straight right now."
She pressed a button on her control panel.
The massive screen behind her flickered to life.
"Here's how this works. You're all here because of her." She pointed at the sleeping Jester. "She doesn't know you're watching. She can't see you. She can't hear us. She's just... sleeping. Dreaming. Being annoyingly peaceful while the rest of you lose your minds."
Maria hopped off the control panel and walked to the edge of the stage, her boots dangling over the void.
"Your job is to watch. To react. To finally understand who the hell you've been obsessing over." Her smile widened. Her red eyes sparkled. "And my job is to show you."
She pressed another button.
The screen split into two sections.
On the left: a video file labeled "GACHIAKUTA — PAST."
On the right: a video file labeled "MHA — PAST."
Above both, in massive, neon-pink letters: 90%
"Let's start with something fun," Maria said.
The screen flickered.
And the Jester—painted, bells jingling, eyes sparkling with mischief—cartwheeled into view.
GACHIAKUTA — THE PIT
PAST TIMELINE — BEFORE THEY KNEW HER
The footage was grainy, like it had been recorded on a salvaged camera or pulled from someone's memory. But the Jester was sharp. Clear. Impossible.
She was dangling upside down from a pipe.
Rudo Surebrec was standing beneath her, trying to read a piece of paper. His jaw was tight. His shoulders were tense. He looked like a man who had been dealing with this for hours and was about five seconds from losing his mind.
Jester (on screen): "RUDO. RUDO. RUDOOOO."
Rudo (on screen), not looking up: "What."
Jester: "I'm bored."
Rudo: "Not my problem."
Jester: "I'm going to make it your problem."
She dropped from the pipe, landed in front of him, and poked his cheek.
Boop.
Rudo's head snapped up. "WHAT—"
Boop.
"STOP—"
Boop.
"I WILL THROW YOU INTO THE TRASH—"
Boop.
"I'M SERIOUS—"
Jester: "You're adorable when you're angry."
Rudo's face went red. His hands clenched. His mouth opened and closed like a fish having an existential crisis.
Rudo: "I am not adorable."
Jester: "You're right. You're aggressively adorable. There's a difference."
She cartwheeled away before he could grab her.
In the theater, the Past Cleaners stared at the screen with varying degrees of confusion and horror.
Past Rudo (the one who didn't know her yet, the one who had just been teleported into space and stripped of his powers) watched himself get poked in the cheek and felt something strange twist in his chest.
"Who is she?" he asked again. "Why am I letting her touch me?"
Present Rudo (the one who had searched for her, who had bled for her, who had watched her disappear) didn't answer.
He was watching the screen with an expression that made the people around him uncomfortable. His eyes were dark. His jaw was set. And when Past Rudo spoke, Present Rudo's hands tightened into fists.
"Shut up," he said. His voice was low. Rough. "You don't know anything. You don't know how good you have it. She's annoying you because she wants to annoy you. Because she likes you. Because she's trying to make you feel something other than rage and grief and the weight of the world."
He took a breath.
"I'd give anything for her to annoy me like that right now."
The Past Cleaners went quiet.
Past Enjin (who had been watching with a small, amused smile) stopped smiling.
Present Enjin (who had seen the Jester bleed, who had watched her heal his team, who had stood in the garden she built and realized she was trying to give them a future they wouldn't need her for) said nothing. But he moved.
Subtly. Quietly.
He positioned himself between the Present Cleaners and the rest of the room. A wall. A barrier.
No one was getting near the Jester's sleeping form without going through him.
The footage continued.
A montage. Fast cuts. The Jester annoying everyone.
Clip: The Jester stealing food from Zodyl's plate. Not subtly. She reached across the table, grabbed his bread, and took a bite while maintaining eye contact.
Past Zodyl (in the theater) raised an eyebrow. "She stole from me?"
Present Zodyl smiled. Does this person even smile???? Jester what did you do the raiders leader??"She brought me fresh bread the next day. Said the cockroach I was eating was 'beneath my station.'" His smile sharpened. "No one had ever spoken to me like that before."
Clip: The Jester teaching Noerde a card game. Noerde was losing. Badly. Her eye was twitching.
Noerde (on screen): "This game makes no sense."
Jester: "It makes perfect sense. You're just bad at it."
Noerde: "I am not—"
Jester: "You're aggressively bad. There's a difference."
Noerde: "That doesn't even—"
Jester, laying down a winning hand: "Read 'em and weep, sweetheart."
Past Noerde (in the theater) snorted. "I would have killed her."
Present Noerde (who had died, who had come back, who had felt the Jester's fingers brush hers as the hole ripped open) was quiet. Her hands were folded in her lap. Her eyes were fixed on the screen.
"She reached for me," Present Noerde said. Her voice was soft. Barely audible. "At the end. When the trash beast was collapsing. She reached for my hand."
No one replied.
They didn't need to.
Clip: The Jester trying to "help" Shikage clean his weapon. She dropped it. It skidded across the floor. Shikage stared at it. Then at her. Then back at it.
Shikage (on screen): "..."
Jester: "I meant to do that."
Shikage: "You dropped it."
Jester: "I strategically dropped it. To test its durability."
Shikage: "It's a weapon. Not a science experiment."
Jester: "Same thing, sometimes."
Past Shikage (in the theater) pinched the bridge of his nose.
Present Shikage (who had watched the Jester heal Zanka, who had seen her collapse, who had carried her out of the trash beast) said nothing. But his eyes were soft.
Clip: The Jester falling asleep in a pile of fabric. She'd been "organizing" for hours. Actually, she'd been building a nest. When the clip started, she was wrapped in so many layers of cloth that she looked like a caterpillar in a cocoon.
Bundus (on screen): "Is she... sleeping?"
Bro Santa (on screen): "I think so." Who surprisingly agreed to join the jester's adventure to the underground world of the pit... Some future later lmao.
Jester, from inside the cocoon: "The burrito cannot walk. The burrito demands to be carried to the next location."
Bundus: "You're not a burrito."
Jester: "I'm whatever I want to be. Now carry me."
Past Bundus (in the theater) laughed. A genuine, surprised laugh.
Present Bundus (who had watched her cook for thirty-six hours straight, who had eaten her food, who had seen her smile) didn't laugh. His face was soft. Wistful.
"She never let us carry her," he said. "Not really. Not when she was hurt. Not when she was exhausted. She always said she was fine."
He paused.
"She wasn't fine."
MY HERO ACADEMIA — U.A. HIGH SCHOOL
PAST TIMELINE — BEFORE SHE ARRIVED
The screen shifted.
Bright hallways. Clean floors. The smell of disinfectant and youth.
And the Jester—same painted face, same bells, same chaos—walking backward in front of Aizawa.
Jester (on screen): "But Sensei, if you just let me fail the exam, I could go live in a cave somewhere and bother absolutely no one. Think of the peace. The quiet. The—"
Aizawa (on screen), dead-eyed, voice flat: "You're not failing."
Jester: "What if I fail on purpose?"
Aizawa: "Then I'll fail you harder."
Jester: "That doesn't make any sense."
Aizawa: "Welcome to U.A."
In the theater, Past Aizawa (the one who had just been teleported into space, who was still trying to figure out how to protect his students) watched himself on screen and felt a headache forming behind his eyes.
"Is she always like this?" he asked.
Present Aizawa (the one who had watched her collapse in hallways, who had found her training in secret, who had threatened to hunt her down if she didn't stop almost dying) sighed.
"Yes," he said. "And worse. She stole my sleeping bag once. Used it as a blanket during a movie night. Refused to give it back for three days.
Past Aizawa: "And you let her?"
Present Aizawa: "She looked comfortable."
The montage continued.
Clip: The Jester sitting on Kirishima's shoulders during training, yelling "CHARGE, MY STEED" while Kirishima, laughing, ran laps around the gym. Aizawa was yelling at them to stop. The Jester was throwing peace signs at the camera.
Past Kirishima (in the theater) blinked. "Is that... me? Why am I letting her ride me like a horse?"
Present Kirishima (who had cried over her bunny room, who had called her the manliest person he'd ever met, who had watched her stand against All For One) smiled. It was a sad smile.
"Because she asked," he said. "And because she looked happy. She doesn't look happy very often."
Clip: The Jester drawing mustaches on the Class 1-A photos in the hallway. She was using a permanent marker. Mineta was standing beside her, laughing, holding the marker caps.
Mineta (on screen): "This is the best day of my life."
Jester: "We're going to get caught."
Mineta: "Worth it."
Aizawa's shadow fell over them.
Aizawa (on screen): "..."
Jester, without turning around: "Sensei, I can explain."
Aizawa: "You have thirty seconds."
Jester: "Mineta did it." She pointed to mineta no hesitation.
Mineta: "WHAT—"
Jester: "I'm just an innocent bystander. Look at my face. This is the face of innocence."
Her face was covered in marker mustaches. She'd drawn them on herself too.
Past Mineta (in the theater) was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe.
Present Mineta (who had been in the hospital waiting room, who had refused to leave, who had cried when the doctors said she might not wake up) wasn't laughing. He was staring at the screen with wet eyes. His still part of UA even if I didn't like him that much in the past.
"She framed me," he said. "And I let her. Because it was funny. Because she made everything funny." He wiped his nose with his sleeve. "I miss her."
Clip: The Jester falling asleep on Todoroki's shoulder during a movie night. The lights were low. Everyone was scattered across the common room couches. The movie was some action flick no one was paying attention to.
The Jester's head drooped. Her eyes closed. Her breathing slowed.
She slumped against Todoroki's shoulder.
Todoroki froze.
He didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't even blink.
Two hours passed in the clip. Two hours of Todoroki sitting perfectly still, one shoulder supporting the weight of a sleeping girl, his heterochromatic eyes fixed on the screen like he was watching something sacred.
When the movie ended, someone—Kaminari, probably—said, "Uh, Todoroki? You know you can move now, right?"
Todoroki didn't answer.
He didn't move.
Past Todoroki (in the theater) watched himself on screen with an expression that was impossible to read.
"Why didn't I move?" he asked, staring intensely at his future self.
Present Todoroki (who had been researching tarot to understand her, who had recognized the rabbit as The Hope, who had seen her exhaustion and her gentleness and her impossible strength) didn't look away from the screen.
"Because she was sleeping," he said. "And because she looked peaceful. She never looks peaceful when she's awake."
Clip: The Jester stealing Kaminari's pudding. She replaced it with a note that said "SORRY NOT SORRY" in glitter pen. Kaminari found the note. Screamed. Chased her through the dorms for twenty minutes.
Past Kaminari (in the theater) was grinning. "She stole my pudding?!"
Present Kaminari (who had watched her bleed, who had carried her to Recovery Girl, who had sat by her hospital bed and talked to her even though she couldn't hear him) nodded.
"She did," he said. "And then she bought me three more the next day. Said she 'felt bad.'" He laughed. It was a wet sound. "She didn't feel bad. She just wanted an excuse to talk to me."
THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS — FUTURE TIMELINE
PRESENT TIMELINE — THE HOSPITAL VIGIL
The screen shifted again.
Darkness. Concrete walls. The smell of decay and desperation.
The League's hideout.
Shigaraki was hunched over a screen, watching news footage. Toga was perched on the back of a couch, kicking her legs. Dabi was leaning against a wall, arms crossed. Twice was pacing. Spinner was sharpening a blade. Mr. Compress was doing card tricks in the corner.
Toga (on screen): "She's so funny. I want to see what her blood looks like. Do you think it sparkles? She seems like her blood would sparkle."
Dabi (on screen): "You're obsessed."
Toga: "I'm curious. There's a difference."
Dabi: "There's not."
Toga: "There is when I'm the one saying it."
Shigaraki (on screen), not looking away from the screen: "She knows things. Things she shouldn't know. About me. About him." His fingers twitched. "I want to know how."
Twice (on screen): "She's probably just guessing! NO, SHE'S DEFINITELY NOT GUESSING, SHE'S TOO ACCURATE—"
Spinner: "Can we focus?"
Mr. Compress: "I think she's delightful. Theatrical. I respect the showmanship."
In the theater, the Present MHA Villains—pulled from the same hospital-timeline as the heroes—were watching with varying degrees of intensity.
Present Shigaraki (seated in the villain section, as far from the heroes as possible) didn't blink. His fingers were curled into claws, scratching at the armrest of his chair.
"She laughed at him," Shigaraki said. His voice was quiet. Almost reverent. "At sensei. She looked him in the eye and laughed. And he—" He stopped. His throat moved. "He hesitated. I've never seen him hesitate."
Present Dabi (leaning against the back of his chair, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded) said nothing. But he wasn't relaxed. He was watching. He was always watching.
Present Toga was practically vibrating. She was perched on the edge of her seat, her hands pressed together, her eyes wide and sparkling.
"I told you," she said. "I told you she was special. She's perfect. She's chaos. She's everything I want to be."
Present Twice: "She's terrifying! I LOVE HER—"
Present Kurogiri: "Quiet."
Present Mr. Compress: "Theatrical. I told you. Theatrical!"
NEZU'S OFFICE
The screen cut to a cozy office. Bookshelves. A chess board. Tea steaming on a low table.
The Jester was sitting across from Nezu. Her posture was different here. Softer. Less performative.
Nezu (on screen): "You knew. About everything. The USJ. The Sports Festival. Stain."
Jester (on screen), setting down her cup: "I knew."
Nezu: "And you didn't tell anyone."
Jester: "Would you have believed me?"
Nezu: "...No."
Jester: "Exactly." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "So I did what I could. Changed what I could. Let the rest happen."
Nezu: "You're carrying a lot."
Jester: "I'm a clown. We're built for heavy loads."
In the theater, Present Nezu was very quiet.
His paws were folded in his lap. His whiskers were still. His beady black eyes were fixed on the screen with an expression that made the people around him uncomfortable.
"She never told me that," Nezu said. "Not in those words. She told me she knew the future. She told me she was trying to change it. But she never told me why she looked so tired."
He was quiet for a long moment.
"I should have asked."
The screen went black.
The neon-pink "90%" vanished.
For a long moment, there was nothing. Just darkness. Just silence. Just the breathing of two dozen people who had no idea what was coming next.
Then the text appeared.
Cold. Bleeding. Crimson.
10%
The screen flickered.
And the Jester stopped smiling.
GACHIAKUTA — THE AMO INCIDENT
PRESENT TIMELINE — THE INCIDENT EVERYONE REMEMBERS
The footage was dark. Chaotic. Threads—Tamsy's threads—were everywhere, binding, hurting.
The Cleaners were scattered. Injured. Riyo was on the ground, clutching her arm. Zanka was pinned against a wall. Rudo was struggling against silver strands that cut into his wrists.
And in the corner of the frame, half-hidden in shadow, was the Jester.
She wasn't moving.
She wasn't joking.
Her painted face was frozen. Her eyes were dead. And she was staring directly at Tamsy with an expression that made the temperature in the theater drop ten degrees.
Jester (on screen), voice flat: "Stop."
Tamsy (on screen), still smiling, still weaving his threads: "I'm helping."
Jester: "You're hurting them."
Tamsy: "Same thing, sometimes."
And the Jester moved.
Not her usual flailing, chaotic movement. This was controlled. Predatory. She crossed the space between them in three steps—three silent steps—and got in Tamsy's face. Her eyes were wide. Unblinking. Her lips were pressed into a thin, bloodless line.
Jester (on screen), quiet enough that the microphone barely caught it: "If you touch them again, I will unmake you. Do you understand me?"
Tamsy's smile faltered.
For just a second.
Tamsy (on screen): "...Understood."
The theater was silent.
Past Tamsy (the one who didn't know her yet, the one who had just been teleported into space) watched himself on screen with a pleasant smile. But his eyes were sharp.
"How interesting," he said. "She looks at me like she knows something."
Present Tamsy (the one who had watched her, studied her, waited) had the same smile. But his eyes were darker. Hungrier.
"She does," Present Tamsy said. "She knows everything." His fingers twitched. "And that glare... I've seen it before. Only once. When she looked at something she wanted to destroy."
He tilted his head.
"I wonder what she sees when she looks at me."
Arkha Corvus (watching from the Cleaners' section) narrowed his eyes. He'd always had suspicions about Tamsy. The way he moved. The way he watched. The way he smiled when no one was looking.
This footage just confirmed a few of them.
"You pulled a stunt that triggered that side of her," Corvus said, his voice low. "I knew you were hiding something, Tamsy."
Present Tamsy: "Everyone's hiding something, Arkha. Even you."
Corvus didn't reply. But his hand moved to his weapon—a reflex, nothing more. His power was gone. But the instinct remained.
Past Enjin (watching from the Cleaners' section, his easygoing smile long gone) was frowning.
"Who is she protecting?" he asked.
Present Enjin (who had seen her bleed, who had watched her heal his team, who had stood in the garden she built and realized she was trying to give them a future they wouldn't need her for) answered quietly.
"Everyone," he said. "She's always protecting everyone. Even the people who don't deserve it."
Past Zanka (watching from the corner of his eye, his arms crossed) grunted.
"She looked like she was about to kill him," he said.
Present Zanka (who had trained with her, who had pushed her, who had watched her collapse and kept going) nodded.
"She would have," he said. "If she'd had to."
Past Rudo (who still didn't understand, who was still watching the screen with confused, angry eyes) spoke without meaning to.
"She's not just a clown, is she?"
Present Rudo (who had searched for her, who had bled for her, who had watched her disappear) didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
MY HERO ACADEMIA — KAMINO WARD
PRESENT TIMELINE — THE BROADCAST THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
The screen shifted.
The sky was dark. Smoke was rising from a dozen fires. The wreckage of a city stretched in every direction.
And in the center of the frame, standing in front of All For One—
Was the Jester.
Her cards were everywhere. Flying in razor-sharp orbits around her body. Her staff was glowing—a warm, golden light that seemed to push back the darkness. And her face—
Her face was terrifying.
Not angry. Not scared. Determined.
The mask was gone. The silliness was gone. The girl who drew mustaches on school photos and stole pudding from her classmates was gone.
In her place was something else.
Something old.
Something that had stared down monsters before and would do it again.
All For One (on screen), amused, his voice echoing through the ruined street: "A quirkless girl. Standing against me. How quaint."
Jester (on screen), voice steady: "I'm not here to fight you. I'm here to make sure you lose."
All For One: "Bold words."
Jester: "I know your name. I know your history. I know every secret you've ever buried." She took a step forward. Her cards spun faster. "And I know that you're lonely. That's why you created him. That's why you can't let him go."
All For One's smile faltered.
Jester: "You're not a god. You're a ghost. And ghosts don't get to win."
The MHA side of the theater was reeling.
Past All Might (the Symbol of Peace, the man who had faced All For One twice and nearly died both times) was pale. His gaunt face was drawn. His hands were trembling.
"She... she stood in front of him," he said. His voice was hoarse. "Without a quirk. Without anything."
Present All Might (who had brought her strawberry milk in the hospital, who had cried when she told him he was still a hero, who had watched her fall and get back up and fall again) nodded slowly.
"She did," he said. "And she won."
Past Endeavor (the Number Two Hero, the man who had spent his entire life chasing All Might's shadow) was staring at the screen with an expression he couldn't name.
"That's the Symbol of Balance?" he asked.
Present Endeavor (who had been trying to live up to All Might's legacy and failing, who had seen the Jester's broadcast, who had realized he would never be what she was) didn't answer.
He was thinking about his son. About the Jester. About all the things he'd done wrong.
Past Hawks (watching from the pro hero section, his wings twitching uselessly) whistled low.
"She's got balls," he said. "I like her."
Present Hawks (who had seen her stand against the darkness and felt hope for the first time in years) smiled. It wasn't a happy smile. It was a knowing one.
"Yeah," he said. "She does."
Past Dabi (from the villain section, his burned skin hidden beneath his coat) was very still.
His eyes were fixed on the screen. On the Jester's face. On the fire in her eyes.
Present Dabi (who had watched the broadcast, who had recognized something in her exhaustion, who had kept her secret for reasons he didn't understand) was watching with an expression that was impossible to read.
But his hands—his burned hands—were trembling.
Past Toga was practically climbing over the couch, her fingers curled into claws, her eyes wide and sparkling.
"She's beautiful like that," she said. "Angry. Fierce. I want to see more."
Present Toga (who had wanted her blood, her smile, her everything) was already standing. She was pressed against the railing of the villain section, leaning as far forward as she could without falling.
"She's everything," Toga breathed. "She's everything and no one sees it—"
Present Twice grabbed her arm. "We see it! NO, WE DON'T, BUT WE'RE TRYING—"
Present Shigaraki (who had watched the broadcast with obsessive fascination, who had fixated on her knowledge, who had felt something crack open in his chest when she called All For One lonely) was silent.
His fingers were curled into claws. His eyes were dark hollows beneath his father's hand.
"She sees through him," Shigaraki said. His voice was quiet. Almost reverent. "She sees through all of them."
The screen split.
On one side: the Jester, staring down Tamsy in the dark. Cards flickering at her fingertips. Eyes dead and cold.
On the other side: the Jester, staring down All For One in the burning street. Staff glowing, cards swarming. Eyes burning with golden fire.
Same expression.
Same menace.
The woman who played the fool—
Was not a fool.
The screen went black.
The harsh red light vanished.
And for a long moment, there was nothing. Just silence. Just the sound of people breathing. Just the weight of what they'd seen pressing down on their chests.
Then Maria spoke.
Her voice was soft. Gentle. Human. Her blonde pigtails hung limp against her shoulders. Her red eyes were no longer sparkling with mischief. They were sad.
"Look at her."
Everyone turned.
The Jester was still asleep.
She hadn't moved. Her hands were still tucked under her cheek. Her hair was still spread across the velvet like ink. Her breathing was still slow and steady and peaceful.
The unhinged menace who had stared down gods and monsters—
Was sleeping like a baby.
She looked young. Younger than any of them had ever seen her. The paint was gone. The mask was gone. The chaos was gone.
All that was left was a girl.
A tired, exhausted girl who had finally stopped running.
Past Rudo stared.
His angry posture had melted. His fists were unclenched. His jaw was loose.
"She... she looks so quiet," he said. His voice was strange. Soft. "When she's not yelling."
Present Rudo didn't answer.
He was already moving.
He stepped off the platform where the Past Cleaners were seated and walked—slowly, deliberately, inexorably—toward the floating couch where the Jester slept.
No one stopped him.
No one could.
He stopped at the edge of the platform and stood there. Not touching her. Not speaking. Just... watching.
"Keep your voices down," he said. His voice was low. Rough. "She's finally resting."
Present Bakugo was already walking.
He'd been standing at the edge of the MHA section since the first video ended, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his eyes fixed on the Jester's face. He hadn't moved. He hadn't spoken. He'd just... watched.
But now he was moving.
He walked down the theater steps, his boots clicking against the white floor, and stopped beside Rudo.
"Get away from her, trash-boy," Bakugo said. His voice was quiet. Dangerous. "I'm the one who handles her when she's done with everything."
Present Rudo didn't look at him.
"I'm not moving," he said.
Present Bakugo didn't look at him either.
"Neither am I."
Present Shigaraki stood up.
His boots clicked against the floor. His hands were at his sides, fingers twitching, nails scratching against his palms.
"Both of you are loud," he said. His voice was soft. Almost gentle. "She belongs in the dark. Where no one can bother her anymore."
He started walking.
Present Toga followed.
So did Present Dabi.
So did Present Twice and Present Mr. Compress and Present Spinner.
The villains moved as a unit—not coordinated, not organized, but inevitable. Like gravity. Like the tide.
They stopped at the edge of the platform.
They looked at the sleeping Jester.
And they waited.
Present Enjin was standing now.
His easygoing smile was gone. His eyes were sharp. He moved to stand beside Rudo—not in front of him, not behind him, but beside him. A wall.
Present Zanka followed. His hand was on a weapon that wouldn't activate, but his stance was ready.
Present Riyo stood with them. Her face was pale. Her hands were shaking. But she didn't step back.
Present Jabber was laughing.
It was a high, sharp sound, like glass breaking.
"Oh, this is perfect," he said. "This is exactly what I wanted." He stepped onto the platform, his boots silent, his grin too wide. "She's going to wake up and see all of us. And she's going to have to choose."
Present Noerde grabbed his arm.
"She's not choosing anyone," Noerde said. Her voice was flat. "She's sleeping. Let her sleep."
Present Jabber looked at her. His grin didn't move.
"Make me."
The tension in the room was unbearable.
Heroes and villains. Cleaners and Raiders. Past and present.
All of them standing at the edge of a floating platform.
All of them staring at a sleeping girl.
All of them ready to fight.
Maria floated above them, eating popcorn.
Her blonde pigtails bounced as she chewed. Her red eyes sparkled with barely contained glee.
"Oh, this is getting so good," she said. "Go ahead, boys and girls. Fight for her. She won't wake up anyway."
She popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth and crunched.
"She never does." Or will she? The author prefers if she shut up for a bit.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
To be continued...
