Chapter 89

Reiji stood still, the sound of Aizawa's calm voice—"Reiji… what are you going to choose?"—ringing in his ears. The rooftop was quiet save for the wind and the distant hum of festival music below. Time felt like it slowed, stretching out each breath, each heartbeat. His mind buzzed with conflicted thoughts—mission versus instinct, duty versus judgment.

He lowered his hand.

The shadows holding Gentle retracted, flowing back to Reiji like obedient rivers dissolving into his body. Gentle lay there, stunned but unmoving. The tension in his shoulders softened, his breathing heavy but steady. La Brava, eyes wide with disbelief, gasped softly and dashed toward him, throwing herself beside his fallen form.

She clutched his sleeve, face buried against his coat. "You… you really didn't give up..." she whispered. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, overwhelmed by relief.

Cementoss and Hound Dog both stepped forward instinctively, hands twitching toward defensive posture, but Aizawa's quiet voice cut through the charged air.

"Hold."

They stopped without hesitation. Aizawa's authority carried weight, and in that moment, silence ruled the rooftop.

Aizawa walked calmly toward Reiji, his scarf shifting with the rooftop breeze. He stopped beside the boy, his tone unreadable. "Explain."

Reiji's mouth was dry, but he spoke anyway. "He didn't fight to win. He pulled his punches, avoided hurting anyone, and never once aimed to actually breach the main festival zone. He… just wanted to be seen."

Gentle glanced up at that, eyes searching Reiji's face. He looked more tired than anything—like the last flicker of a candle that refused to die.

La Brava's grip on his coat tightened. "He only wanted to prove he could stand on a stage, too. That his voice mattered."

Aizawa looked from Gentle to La Brava, then back to Reiji. "Intent matters," he said, his voice low. "But so does action."

There was no harsh judgment in his tone—just a weary understanding of gray lines heroes sometimes had to walk.

Cementoss nodded slowly. "He'll still need to be taken in. But… there's a difference between villains and misguided men. And I think we all saw which one he is."

Reiji gave a slight nod, the burden in his chest beginning to loosen.

But just as his shoulders dropped, a sharp ping rang in his head.

[Deviation Logged: Compassion Over Protocol] [Warning: Behavioral Drift – Monitoring In Progress]

His breath caught mid-step. The red flicker across his internal display wasn't subtle. It was loud, invasive.

[Observation Node Active]

"What?" Reiji muttered, his brows drawing tight. He blinked twice, attempting to override the alert manually—nothing responded. The usual responsiveness of the system was gone, replaced by a chilling stillness. Even the diagnostic subroutines were locked.

The system had always served him. Quietly, efficiently. It had warned him of enemy quirks, maximized counterattacks, even stabilized his vitals. Never before had it judged him. Never had it called him… deviant.

So even the system doesn't trust me anymore?

He glanced around. No drones. No sensors. Yet the weight behind his eyes—an invisible gaze—remained. It was like someone breathing against the back of his neck, yet no one stood behind him.

Gentle and La Brava were being gently escorted by Cementoss and Hound Dog, both of whom maintained a respectful distance. No cuffs, no force—just cautious supervision.

La Brava kept glancing over her shoulder at Reiji. Her eyes were still glassy. Her mouth opened slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Just a silent gratitude.

Gentle said nothing as they walked away, but his eyes lingered on Reiji's until the last moment. Not with resentment. Not even with sadness. Just… acceptance.

Aizawa lingered. He said nothing for a long moment, then leaned in slightly and muttered just loud enough for Reiji to hear: "We'll talk later."

Then he turned, trailing the others down the stairs, leaving Reiji alone in the cold breeze. Alone—except for the dull ache behind his eyes where the system still pulsed.

Back at the festival grounds, the bright lights from the stage bathed the area in warmth and color. Class 1-A stood front and center, panting and smiling after their successful performance. Applause roared around them, music still fading from the final note. Confetti rained like glittering snowflakes from overhead, and the students exchanged exhausted high-fives.

Laughter and cheers filled the air, washing over the field like a wave of pure joy.

Reiji entered quietly through a side corridor, avoiding the main spotlight. He kept his head down, his thoughts louder than the crowd. With every step, he tried to shake off the phantom weight behind his eyes, but it lingered like a fog.

His boots tapped softly against the polished floor, drowned out by the thunder of clapping hands. The corridor was dimly lit, but just outside was light and celebration. It felt like a different world—one that was slipping away from him.

Midoriya spotted him first, waving with a broad grin. "Reiji! You made it back!"

Iida quickly jogged up beside him, his enthusiasm undimmed. "Is everything secure?"

Yaoyorozu stood a little behind them, her posture elegant and eyes observant. She didn't say anything, but her glance asked enough. She had questions—Reiji could see it—but she chose to trust his silence.

Reiji gave a short nod. "Handled."

The others returned to the center of the crowd, swept up in joy and celebration. Reiji didn't follow.

Instead, he lingered near the edge of the stage, partially obscured by the curtain's shadow. He folded his arms, gaze drifting across the crowd. Laughter, music, light—everything he'd fought to protect. And yet, the dissonance inside him grew louder.

His system pulsed again.

[Behavioral Drift: 1.2%] [System Integrity – Observed]

Reiji's brow furrowed. He narrowed his eyes. This wasn't just a flag.

He reached into the system manually, attempting a diagnostic. Static distorted the edges of his vision. Then—something unfamiliar.

A voice.

Not mechanical. Not part of the system. Deeper. Cold. Measured. It didn't echo in his ears—it echoed in his mind.

"You're beginning to think for yourself… That wasn't part of the plan."

Reiji's heart skipped. His breath hitched. A cold sweat broke along his spine, and his foot shifted back without him realizing—like his body instinctively recognized danger.

This wasn't a glitch. This wasn't protocol. It was a warning.

Someone—or something—was watching.

To be continued.

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