The Phoenix Hero's Legacy
The morning sun painted Tokyo's skyline in brilliant oranges and reds as Katsuki Bakugo stood atop the Hero Commission headquarters, his weathered hands gripping the steel railing. At thirty-five, the explosive hero had finally claimed the title that had consumed his every waking moment since childhood: Number One Hero. But the victory felt different than he'd imagined all those years ago when he'd screamed his ambitions to anyone who would listen.
Below him, the city hummed with life—a testament to the peace he and his generation had fought so fiercely to protect. The scars on his arms told stories of countless battles, each mark a lesson learned through pain and perseverance. His agency, "Ground Zero," had become the most sought-after hero firm in Japan, not just for its success rate, but for something far more valuable: its ability to forge true heroes from raw talent and burning ambition.
"Still brooding up here, Kacchan?"
Bakugo didn't turn as Izuku Midoriya joined him on the rooftop, though a small smirk tugged at his lips. Even after all these years, Deku had this annoying habit of finding him during his quiet moments. What had once been a source of explosive rage had evolved into something he'd never admit aloud—comfort.
"Thinking," Bakugo corrected, his voice carrying none of the venom it once held when addressing his childhood rival. "About the kids."
The "kids" were his current crop of interns—fifteen young heroes-in-training who reminded him painfully of his own reckless youth. Watching them stumble through the same arrogance and insecurities he'd once worn like armor had become both his greatest challenge and most profound teacher.
"That Tanaka kid reminds me of someone I used to know," Izuku chuckled, settling beside his old classmate. "All fire and fury, convinced the world owes him recognition."
Bakugo's jaw tightened—not in anger, but in recognition. He saw himself in that boy's explosive tantrums, in his desperate need to prove superiority over his peers. But where once Bakugo would have either crushed that spirit or ignored it entirely, he now found himself doing something his younger self would have scorned: nurturing it.
"The difference is," Bakugo said quietly, "I'm not gonna let him make the same mistakes I did. Gonna teach him that being strong doesn't mean being alone."
The words surprised even him. Growth, he'd learned, wasn't a destination but a daily choice—a conscious decision to be better than yesterday's version of himself. Every harsh lesson he'd learned, every friendship he'd nearly destroyed, every moment of crushing self-doubt had forged him into something stronger than raw power could ever make him.
His agency's motto, emblazoned in explosive orange letters across the building below, read: "From Ashes, We Rise." It spoke to more than just his quirk's destructive beauty—it represented the fundamental truth that had taken him decades to understand. True strength wasn't about never falling; it was about how explosively you could propel yourself back up.
As the sun climbed higher, casting their shadows long across the rooftop, Bakugo felt the weight of legacy settling on his shoulders. Not the burden he'd once imagined, but the privilege of shaping the next generation of heroes. Each student he mentored was a chance to break the cycle of arrogance and isolation that had nearly consumed him.
The Number One Hero wasn't just the strongest anymore—he was the one who lifted others highest. And for the first time in his life, Katsuki Bakugo was exactly where he belonged.
NEAL LLOYD
