The gaze of an old man who had indelibly shaped an era and a young man destined to command the coming age intersected.
An icy atmosphere lingered between them.
After a brief greeting, it was the old man who shattered the silence first.
"So, you’ve come all this way in person just to figure out how to exploit this old man again, you rotten disciple," he said.
Kirishima smiled at Samat, who was grumbling in a sour tone. Though his words might sound harsh, it was Samat—supporting him both financially and in every other way—who truly understood his plan.
"Exploit? Honestly, you probably don’t have anything better to do anyway. Since you’re here, you might as well put that disciple of yours to good use. Besides, only you can do this, Master," Samat replied.
"Tch. I’m not falling for that, you brat. 'Only I can do it'? My foot. Do you really think I don’t see you buttering me up just so you can push me into this mess?" the old man retorted. Despite his gruff tone, a quiet smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, betraying his pleasure.
"Since you’re here, let’s talk seriously. From the sound of it, this isn’t merely about preserving martial arts. Do you honestly believe it’s necessary to go to such lengths? Even if it were essential, there’s no need to rush," he continued.
Meeting Samat’s steady gaze, Kirishima replied calmly. Now, he had to discuss the advent of turbulent times and persuade his disciple.
The future he once knew was gone, but one fact remained certain:
This peace would not last much longer.
What they had endured so far had been far too intense for a typical student, and the challenges ahead would be even greater. Soon, the trials they faced would be dismissed as little more than fond memories compared to the chaos that loomed, plunging the world into turmoil.
He understood that they now lived in a world that felt like a shonen manga, despite knowing it was real.
"This is important, so I wanted to speak with you directly. What I’m about to say must never be revealed to anyone else."
"I really don’t know what you’re getting at. Fine, spit it out, brat," Samat replied.
"All Might’s time is running out."
"What?"
On his way here, Kirishima had agonized over whether to share what he knew with Samat—and if so, how much to reveal. It was clear: All Might was not as invincible as everyone believed. Sooner or later, he would either die or lose his power.
"Exactly. All Might is fading, and he won’t last much longer. At best, he’ll end up as a powerless civilian; at worst, he’ll die," Kirishima explained.
"Have you told anyone else that?" Samat asked, straightening up in disbelief. A simple inquiry about his disciple’s request had taken a decidedly grim turn.
"Hah. So my disciple comes in asking for something, even borrows my name, and when I ask why, he drops a bomb like that. Fine then—why tell me something you haven’t shared with anyone else? Don’t even think of claiming it’s because I’m your master. I know you’re no naive kid," Samat retorted.
"It wouldn’t be wrong to say it’s because you’re my master, but you need to know this regardless. Once you hear the reasons, you’ll begin to understand what’s coming. All Might wasn’t merely a hero—he was the Symbol of Peace, a colossal deterrent. You know full well what happens when such a figure vanishes."
"Hmph..."
Samat murmured softly. His disciple had been right. All Might had achieved the unthinkable—a true Symbol of Peace whose presence had propelled society to unprecedented heights. For a nation that had once teetered on the edge of collapse, the era following his rise had brought astonishing stability.
But what would happen when he was gone? Could a society that had long depended on his strength finally stand on its own?
Samat doubted it.
Not yet—far from it.
Thus, the only solution was to find someone capable of replacing All Might. Another sacrifice for the sake of peace had to be offered, and the sacrificial flame relit.
Almost unconsciously, his gaze shifted to Kirishima. The young man seemed to read his thoughts and frowned.
"I’m not doing that. Surpassing All Might has been my dream for a long time—but I mean it purely in terms of strength. I have no desire to replicate his achievements. You know very well I’m not cut out for that," Kirishima declared bluntly.
Samat clicked his tongue at the straightforward refusal. It was clear that while the young man had the potential to be the strongest of his generation, he lacked the temperament to become the ultimate Hero. After all, what kind of hero disregards rules, tearing through everything in his path without hesitation? Such a man, if he ever lost control, might as well become a villain.
Yet, Kirishima’s agility of mind suggested he wouldn’t fall as easily as his first disciple had.
As Samat reluctantly conceded, Kirishima continued with a decisive tone.
"And society must move beyond a system that relies on squeezing every drop of strength from one individual. That is not a healthy way to function. All Might was a special case—an irregular. I, too, am an irregular, but my appearance is nothing more than a stroke of luck. A society that clings to such exceptions, generation after generation, is doomed to collapse."
Kirishima raised his eyebrows and pressed on, his words resonating deeply. Samat found himself drawn in, despite his misgivings.
"An ideal society should consist of a majority of ordinary people and a minority of exceptional individuals who fully develop their potential, supported by a system flexible enough to absorb shocks when challenges arise. What value does a society have if it stumbles at the loss of a single person?"
His steady, contemplative gaze locked onto Samat. Though he had known his second disciple was mature beyond his years, this insight surpassed all expectations. Calmly outlining his vision for the future while pinpointing the flaws of the present, the young man displayed an astonishing clarity of thought.
Just as Samat strained his ears, anticipating Kirishima’s next words, the door swung open.
Saki entered carrying a tray of refreshments.
Without skipping a beat, Kirishima smiled warmly and greeted her.
"Ah, thank you."
"No, no. It sounded like you were in the middle of something important—please forgive the interruption," she said.
"Haha. Not at all," he replied.
Setting the tray before him, Saki departed, leaving Kirishima to savor the moment.
He grinned broadly as he took a sip of his tea.
"Just in time—I was parched."
Watching his casual manner, Samat clicked his tongue. "Tch. Finish your story, brat. Are you planning to toy with me too?"
"No, I was really thirsty. But to get back on track—this is why I need your help," Kirishima explained.
"So you want to form an organization in advance to prepare for what’s coming?"
"Mm, you could say that. There are several reasons for uniting those who have preserved martial arts in this era of decline. As I mentioned before, one primary goal is to preserve martial arts and, by extension, the techniques of combat. But there’s also the need to brace ourselves for the imminent chaos. The future won’t be merely disorderly—it will be something more," he said.
"And what does that mean? Are the villains going to organize themselves?" Samat asked.
"They probably already are. I’ve witnessed one of their organizers firsthand," Kirishima replied.
"The guy who attacked USJ—the so-called amateur?"
"He may be called an amateur, but if he were truly one, he wouldn’t have managed to acquire so many of those bizarre bio-weapons. And while Stain’s ramblings before his capture might not have helped, the truth remains: this society has been suppressed for far too long. Quirks, in their very nature, are unique—but they have been rendered unusable. That allowed society to enjoy peace, but there are always those who crave freedom, and even more, those who move toward destruction. Until now, All Might’s transcendent strength kept everything in check. But once he’s gone, can society continue as smoothly as it has?"
He sighed deeply before continuing.
"Strength is essential—not just individual might, but the power of a united group. While heroes may be considered elite, the crises ahead will not simply be a matter of deteriorating public order. I mentioned that All Might is weakening. That’s due to injuries sustained in battle, and the man responsible is still out there. He, too, may not be in good shape, but the fact remains: someone capable of wounding All Might so gravely is still alive."
"So that adversary is orchestrating things from behind the scenes?"
"That’s what I believe. And if I’m correct, we must prepare not for the mere arrest of criminals, but for a war against formidable foes. Today’s heroes are spread too thin, unorganized, and complacent in peace. Their minds no longer harbor the concept of lethal force. In a time of unending warfare, that softness could prove disastrous."
Samat tapped the table lightly. Perhaps it seemed like a stretch, but if events took the worst possible turn, as Kirishima warned, it might already be too late to prepare.
If they were to act, it had to be now.
Draining his now-cold tea in one hearty gulp, Samat asked, "So what exactly are you asking of me? Do you want me to help turn this organization of yours into a combat unit?"
"Not exactly. While it is true—what I said earlier about preserving martial arts—that will indeed be one of the organization’s primary missions, it’s not the entirety of my plan."
"One of its missions?"
"Yes. We must remain dedicated to the preservation of martial arts. But what are martial arts, really? At their core they are the techniques of combat, of killing. You might say they are also about protection, but eliminating the enemy from the start spares your comrades further harm."
"Enough with the sophistry, brat. So, what exactly are you getting at?"
"It will naturally evolve into a combat group. When you gather only those who are born to master combat techniques, do you really expect it not to become a fighting force? It’s no fairy tale. Of course, if nothing significant occurs, it’ll simply serve as a traditional guardian. But if crisis strikes, it must transform—becoming the force that ends the chaos. You know as well as I do that creating order requires power."
Kirishima’s smiling face was undeniably handsome. Yet as Samat looked upon him, he couldn’t shake the feeling of a shadowy puppeteer at work behind that charming exterior. He muttered under his breath, wondering if he too was being played.
"Just thinking about it tires me out. We’d have to set membership criteria, organize the group, secure funding... and, of course, consult with the Public Safety Commission," Samat grumbled, his expression hardening as he cast a cool glance at his composed disciple.
Normally, the secret workings of the Public Safety Commission would be unknowable. Yet someone like Samat—a regional power in his own right—inevitably picked up fragments of information. Despite their effective cover-ups, if these troublesome elements were allowed to interfere, this entire plan might be better scrapped.
"Haha. That part will have to be handled by you, Master. I’m only a fifteen-year-old kid, after all," Kirishima teased.
"Ugh. You’re shifting the burden onto me again. I can already tell those bastards are going to put up a storm," Samat replied with a grimace.
"They’re nothing but spineless, short-sighted hacks. Even if they did manage to see one step ahead, they’d still cause a fuss," Kirishima countered breezily.
"Maybe so. No stable state would ever tolerate an independent armed group forming in the first place," Samat observed.
"I’m not talking about an armed group. Why must you always reduce traditional preservers to a fighting unit?" Kirishima shot back.
Samat snorted at the casual denial. "Hmph. Fine. I think I get your reasons for creating this thing, but I still have one question."
"Hmm? I’ve explained most of the reasons already," Kirishima replied.
"Yes, but it still doesn’t add up. You despise being part of a group—you’re like a lone tiger. So why are you suddenly moving as if you were a lion leading a pride? Is it because of war? No, that can’t be. The you I know would simply end a war on his own rather than waste time forming an organization."
"Hm... sharp as ever," Kirishima said, scratching his chin with an embarrassed smile.
Lowering his eyes for a moment to gaze into the green tea in his cup, he continued, "It’s not that grand. I have something here worth protecting as well. No matter how strong I become, I only have one body. To safeguard those who matter to me, I need the power of a united group."
"I see. That’s a simpler reason than I expected," Samat admitted.
"And yet it’s the most sensible one there is."
"That it is," Samat agreed with a laugh as he watched Kirishima hide his face behind his teacup, clearly a bit embarrassed.
Despite the fire that burned in his chest and his occasional descent into battle-fueled madness, Kirishima was not an unprincipled brute.
"Alright, then—what are you going to call this organization?" Samat asked, feeling the weight of his disciple’s reasons now sufficiently explained.
Without hesitating, as if he had already made up his mind, Kirishima declared, "Hall of War."
The name—destined either to become a beacon of hope illuminating the future or a bloodstained curtain casting darkness over the world—finally escaped his lips and entered into legend.
It was a turning point in history.
Damn that's a good ass name