Reincarnated as Ghostface in My Hero Academia

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The air was thick with the kind of silence that could suffocate a soul. Class 1-A was shattered—fractured by their own doubts, their own insecurities, and my whispers. They had once been a unified front, a group of aspiring heroes with strength in their bonds. But now, they were scattered, broken, unsure of who to trust or what to believe.

I watched them from the edges of the battlefield, the fractured remnants of a team that had once stood strong. The tension in the air was palpable, heavy with the weight of what I had done. Their greatest weapon—hope—had been stolen, leaving them defenseless against the storm I had summoned.

They didn't know it yet, but the storm was far from over.

---

Kirishima was still crouched beside Midoriya, his hand hovering over his friend's trembling shoulder. His voice cracked when he spoke, but the uncertainty in his eyes was unmistakable. "Midoriya… come on, man… get up." He shook the fallen hero gently, as though trying to wake him from a nightmare that had already consumed him.

But Midoriya didn't respond. His eyes were vacant, his body trembling as if even the effort to breathe was too much for him. His hope was gone, replaced by a hollow emptiness.

Kirishima's hand dropped to his side, his shoulders sagging as the weight of their situation pressed down on him. There was no easy solution, no clear path forward. And as he glanced around at his classmates, he could see the same uncertainty reflected in their faces.

"Sh—should we just leave? Is it over?" Kaminari muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as though the question itself was too dangerous to ask. His eyes darted nervously around, his usual bravado nowhere to be found.

I let the silence hang in the air, savoring the moment. "Is it over?" I echoed, stepping forward into the circle of their doubt. "No, it's just beginning. You think you've lost? This isn't defeat. This is the moment of choice. The moment when you finally see the truth."

The class stirred, some taking a step back, others unwilling to look me in the eye. The seeds of fear had taken root, and it was only a matter of time before the weeds of despair fully consumed them.

"You've all spent your lives chasing an ideal—*heroism*," I continued, my voice smooth and cold, wrapping around them like a chain. "But how long will that ideal sustain you when everything you believe in is exposed as a lie? When you realize your greatest heroes are nothing more than fragile shells, cracked and fragile just like you? How long before you break, too?"

My words struck at their hearts, a quiet poison spreading through the group. They had always believed in their own strength, in their ability to rise above any obstacle. But now, in the wake of my manipulation, their faith was crumbling.

---

Bakugo's head jerked up, his breath ragged and uneven. His fists were still clenched, though there was no fire in his gaze anymore—just a defeated, empty look. "I… I'm not weak," he muttered, but the words didn't carry the same weight they once had. They were hollow, echoes of a past self that had already begun to fade.

"You *are* weak, Bakugo," I said, moving closer to him, my voice a soft rasp against the storm in his mind. "You've always been afraid. Afraid that no matter how many explosions you throw, you'll never be good enough. Afraid that no one will ever see you as more than your quirk. The truth is, you've always been alone. And deep down, you know it."

His jaw tightened, his hands shaking, but the anger didn't return. It was like the fire had burned itself out, leaving only embers. His quirk sputtered weakly in his hands, failing to reignite the fury that once defined him.

---

Todoroki wasn't any better. His eyes were wide, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. Ice and fire danced in his palms, battling for dominance, yet neither side held the power it once had. The internal struggle was reflected in his face—tears threatened to break free, but he fought them back, desperate to retain control.

"You've always been torn between your father's expectations and your own desires, haven't you?" I whispered to him, stepping closer. "But what happens when you realize there's nothing left to fight for? When you see that the strength you're seeking in your quirk… is just a mirage?"

Todoroki's breath hitched as the doubt took hold. The ice quivered in his hand before it faltered, melting into nothingness. He was standing on the edge of a precipice, the legacy of his father pulling him back and the flames of his own rebellion urging him forward. But neither side felt strong enough now. Neither side could protect him.

"Choose, Todoroki. Fire or ice. The legacy of your father or your own path. But don't kid yourself into thinking it's ever been your choice to make."

The fire flickered, weak, before it too fell silent.

---

And then there was Midoriya. I knelt beside him, my mask a stark contrast against the blankness of his face. "Do you know why you're here, Midoriya?" I asked softly, almost tenderly, as though speaking to a child. "You're here because you believed in something you couldn't possibly understand. You thought you could save everyone. But you've failed. You've always failed."

His eyes were glassy, unblinking. "I… I couldn't save anyone," he whispered, the weight of the words sinking in deeper with each breath.

"No," I said, my voice just above a whisper. "You couldn't even save yourself."

The truth had settled into his bones, and there was no escaping it. His quirk, the symbol of his power, felt like a curse now—a burden too heavy to bear. His body trembled uncontrollably, and the strength that had once defined him had drained away entirely.

---

I stood up, casting a glance over the class once more. The damage had been done. They were broken, each one struggling to grasp at the pieces of themselves that I had torn away. Their confidence, their unity, their faith in each other—it was all gone.

They were weak. But that weakness was the beginning of something new. Something I could shape.

"You can stay here," I continued, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade, "and wallow in your failure. Or you can accept the truth. The truth that you have no future as heroes. You have no future as the people you've always wanted to be. The time of false hope is over."

The air was heavy with their hesitation, their unwillingness to act. They were too afraid to make a decision, too lost in the haze of doubt and fear I had created. But that, too, was part of the plan.

Because soon, they would have no choice but to accept what I offered.

A new order.

---

**End of Chapter 12.**

**Next Chapter: The Price of Power**