Screams and the cacophony of destruction echoed through the halls of the Jedi Temple. At that same moment, every Jedi stationed within the temple sensed a sudden, violent fluctuation in the Force—an encroaching tidal wave of the Dark Side. Realizing the emergency, they sprinted from their quarters.
Most already had their lightsabers in hand, settling into combat stances. Having been forged into generals by the fires of the Clone Wars, they had become more sensitive to conflict than ever before.
And yet, even for them, this was beyond comprehension.
"Do it."
Before the young hero—the man who wielded the blade of blue light—the Jedi could only freeze in shock.
The Hero of the Clone Wars, Anakin Skywalker. Or so he was supposed to be. He was the possessor of a Force potential rarely seen in centuries, a young man of impeccable character.
Yet, there he stood. He issued orders to his Clone Troopers without a shred of hesitation and began a slaughter of his own, his saber flashing with lethal intent. It was a sight so grotesque it defied belief.
"No... this is a lie! Why?! Why are you doing this!?"
The shout came from Avtus Ida, a Jedi Knight who had reached the scene faster than anyone else because he had recognized a familiar presence in the Force.
There was no answer. Anakin's saber swung in a deadly arc aimed straight for his throat.
Guided by the Force, Avtus managed to parry the blow—but only just.
Avtus had rarely seen the front lines of the war. His true calling lay in the management and scrutiny of information within the Jedi Archives; even in this era of constant conflict, his practical combat experience was meager.
Even though he had spent more time training with Anakin than most, it was impossible for him to resist a man who had overwhelmed Count Dooku and fully immersed himself in the Dark Side.
Two clashes. That was the extent of Avtus's resistance. The third flash of light was precise, severing his head from his shoulders with clinical accuracy.
His head and body tumbled across the cold floor.
In the fleeting moments before his consciousness faded into the void, their eyes met.
—Why, Anakin! You, who were more a hero than anyone... why!
His eyes screamed the question his mouth could no longer form.
Anakin offered no reply. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated wrath, his eyes glowing with the sulfurous gold of one who had fallen to the Dark Side.
Avtus was left with nothing but a baseless intuition: that Anakin harbored a deep, burning resentment toward the Jedi Order itself.
But even that realization faded quickly. To Avtus, it felt as though he had a lifetime to reflect, but it was merely an illusion born of dying neurons. In that final "revolving lantern" of memories, he saw himself sparring with Anakin, and moments where they had tinkered with machinery together. It only deepened the "Why?" in his heart.
There was no answer to be found. As the memories caught up to the present moment, his consciousness vanished into the dark.
Watching the life flicker out in a heartbeat, Anakin moved the instant he confirmed the end. He swung his lightsaber, letting the Force erupt from his being as he scattered the Jedi who leapt forward to stop him.
He kicked off the floor and returned to the slaughter. He did not look back.
Left behind were the remains of Avtus and the other Jedi slaughtered in that hall. Even those were soon lost to the world, erased during the final destruction of the Temple. They vanished from the galaxy like stones cast into the sea.
To the Dark Lord who became Emperor, they were likely nothing more than pebbles on a path. There was no dignity to be found there. To the Sith, every Jedi who died there—including Avtus—was just a number in a crowd.
Still, time flowed equally for all. Like water seeking the lowest point, nothing could stop its march.
Years turned into decades. Eons passed since the fall of the Jedi and the Republic.
The Republic, its successor the Galactic Empire, and even the New Republic that rose in its wake—all had faded into the mists of history.
Then, in a corner of the universe far removed from the galaxy that once held the Republic, on Planet Earth...
In a vast archipelago located in the Northern Hemisphere, a single infant regained their sense of self.
The third planet of the Solar System, Earth. Japan.
In Shizuoka Prefecture, a municipality located slightly east of the country's center, the entrance exam for UA High School was about to begin.
In a world where approximately eighty percent of the population possessed some kind of unique, extraordinary ability, this exam was an event that neither Japan nor the rest of the world could ignore.
UA High was a prestigious institution that had produced many of the world's top heroes. Their graduates were legendary, and the world watched with bated breath to see if a new star would emerge from the next generation.
The exam consisted of two parts: written and practical. The practical was given the most weight—
"Heeeey, START!"
The curtain rose with a curiously laid-back shout. The test was a practical combat exercise designed to measure the fighting power required of any future hero.
However, out of the massive crowd of examinees, those who could move the instant the signal was given could be counted on two hands.
It was only natural. Though the world was generally unstable, Japan was an exceptionally safe country. These boys and girls, raised in peace, could not be expected to dive into "combat" the second they were prompted.
But there are always exceptions. As mentioned, a small handful of youths moved without a moment's delay.
Among them was a young girl who looked somewhat out of place in a high school entrance exam, even in a modern society full of diverse appearances.
She was tiny, barely 110 centimeters tall. Her limbs were slender—bony, even—showing little in the way of muscle or fat. However, her face, framed by a single decorative side-braid, was so adorable it more than made up for her frail appearance. She gave off the impression of someone who would grow into a stunning beauty... but for now, she was just a small child.
Despite her size, her movements were electric. She moved faster than anyone in her assigned sector, becoming the first to set foot in the mock cityscape.
The "villain" robots rose to intercept her, but she didn't hesitate. She kicked off the side of a building, leaping high into the air, and descended upon the robot from above. The moment she landed, the machine crumpled as if crushed by an invisible weight, completely destroyed.
The girl stood up slowly and scanned the depths of the testing grounds. In her hand, she held a simple mechanical hilt that ignited a rod of orange light.
It emitted a distinct, low hum—vrummm...
She twirled the weapon—one that, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, had been called a lightsaber—with practiced ease. Raising the blade to the side of her face in a guard stance, she began to run again.
Dozens of robots lay ahead. They rushed her in a mindless swarm. Despite their weight and weaponry, she scoffed at their simplistic tactics.
"Brittle, and dim-witted. The Trade Federation's battle droids were far more efficient than this."
She vaulted into the air. Using walls, signs, fences, and the robots themselves as springboards, she moved through three-dimensional space with total freedom.
Form IV: Ataru. It was the most acrobatic style of lightsaber combat, once favored by a Grand Master who, though smaller than she was now, was hailed as the strongest in history.
And the power that made such superhuman movement possible was the Force—the energy that connects all living things in the universe.
Guided by the Force, she landed on the opposite side of the street. In that same heartbeat, every robot in the area collapsed. The damage was minimal but surgical; each one had been disabled with a single, precise strike to its core.
The girl did not linger to admire her work. Without even a backward glance, she pressed deeper into the city. It wasn't arrogance; it was absolute certainty.
Ten seconds later, the other examinees finally reached the spot. They turned pale at the sight of the mechanical graveyard. The testing ground was vast, and the targets were limited. At this rate...
"Damn it! Who was that shrimp?!"
"Shut up and move! We have to find enemies or we'll fail!"
"Get out of my way! I can't get through!"
"You get out of my way!"
Panic and irritation set in as they began to bicker.
Their behavior was piped directly into the monitor room where the examiners watched. Most of the heroes kept a neutral expression, but inwardly, they were unimpressed. However, UA was a school that showed no mercy. The motto of Japan's top academy was Plus Ultra—Go Beyond. They did not allow anyone through their gates who could not evolve under pressure and surpass their limits.
When only five minutes remained, one of the examiners—a man who looked like a mouse to anyone who saw him—pressed a button, activating the final gimmick.
In each sector, a colossal robot was unleashed.
It was a titan that drew every eye, as tall as the surrounding skyscrapers. Its mere footsteps caused collateral damage. For such a thing to begin a rampage was a nightmare scenario.
In almost every sector, the examinees began to flee in terror. The fact that the pre-exam briefing had described it as a "zero-point obstacle" only encouraged their retreat.
Yet, there were exceptions. For instance, a boy who used a "Quirk" he had only just acquired to save a girl who couldn't run.
And the girl with the lightsaber was another such exception. She stood on the roof of a small building, squinting slightly at the robot as it tore through the street.
"...That, too, looks more fragile than an AT-TE walker. I suppose this is the limit of the scientific prowess on a planet that has barely reached its own moon."
Her voice held no trace of tragedy or fear. She wasn't worried about failing the exam or getting hurt. Instead, her tension came from a different question: Can I still do it like I did back then?
"However, at that size... this saber might lack the output. In that case..."
She focused her consciousness on the palm of her hand gripping the hilt. She reached deep inside to pull out something she had intentionally kept suppressed until now.
In that moment, her "Quirk" flared to life—
"Good."
—VRUMMM!
The hum of the lightsaber intensified. The light grew blinding, and the heat radiated outward. It was no longer just a rod of energy; it was a blade of pure light that could sever anything in existence.
"Hah!"
She kicked off the roof. Shrouded in the Force, she executed a leap that defied the laws of physics, landing squarely on the giant robot's shoulder.
The saber moved in a blur. True to the fundamentals of Ataru, she bounced from one point to another, striking and moving, moving and striking.
With every rhythmic shout, pieces of the robot began to fall to the earth. They crashed into the pavement with thunderous roars—each section sliced through with zero resistance.
Seconds later, she landed softly on the ground. Behind her, the massive machine fell apart into perfect segments, collapsing into a heap of silent scrap metal.
The girl stood up slowly. As she did, the orange glow faded from the lightsaber, leaving only the hilt.
And then:
"THE EEEND!!"
The moment she caught her breath, the announcement echoed across all sectors, signaling the conclusion of the exam.
A few days after the UA General Entrance Exam. A confidential envelope arrived at a certain temple in the Kanto region.
The envelope was opened with little fanfare, and a small holographic projector tumbled out. The image it projected was—
"I AM PROJECTED!"
"—All Might?"
Yes, it was the Number One Hero, the man famous not just in Japan but throughout the world: All Might. His muscular frame was squeezed into a well-tailored business suit, and he wore his trademark boisterous smile.
"HAHAHA! Are you surprised?! Then it was worth keeping it a secret from the authorities! That's right... I, All Might, will be joining the faculty of UA High School starting this spring!"
He began to speak with his usual exaggerated gestures.
"Now, let us notify you of your results! First, the written exam—you passed with flying colors! Well, I suppose you weren't worried about that. After all, you've skipped several grades; this much should be expected! The issue was the practical exam..."
All Might leaned his face uncomfortably close to the camera. Even so, the girl watched the footage with a flat, stoic expression.
"You earned a staggering 107 Villain Points! Defeating nearly half of the enemies in your sector by yourself is, quite frankly, magnificent!"
All Might pointed a finger with enough force to make an audible swish. The girl gave a small, respectful nod to the hologram.
"But that's not all! In this exam, there are hidden Rescue Points awarded by a panel of judges! To put it simply: points earned by helping others! The final grade is determined by the sum of Villain and Rescue points!"
All Might stepped back, cleared his throat, and looked directly into the lens.
"Young Masue! From beginning to end, you focused entirely on neutralizing the villains. Therefore, your Rescue Points were almost zero! To be fair, you cleared out the enemies so quickly that there was hardly anyone for you to rescue in that sector..."
"However," he continued.
"At the end, you defeated the Zero-Point Villain alone! That was undoubtedly the greatest threat on the field, and considering how most examinees were running for their lives, the majority of the judges agreed you deserved credit. After deliberation, we have awarded you 10 Rescue Points! Therefore..."
All Might paused for dramatic effect. A number appeared above his head: 117.
"Kotoha Masue: 117 points! Without question, you have the highest score in this year's entrance exam!"
It was decided.
Even so, Kotoha did not react with the excitement of a typical teenager. She looked as though she had merely completed a routine task.
"Come, Young Masue! I'll be waiting for you at UA!—"
The projection flickered and died.
A soft sigh escaped Kotoha's lips.
"I suppose I should say 'Congratulations on passing' first."
A man's voice echoed through the room, despite Kotoha being the only living soul present. She didn't flinch. She turned around slowly to see a translucent figure standing behind her. It was a young man dressed in flowing, loose robes.
"I'll say 'thank you,' for now."
"Boy, you're quite the stoic one, aren't you? This is the toughest school in the country, right? You could show a little joy."
"Easy for you to say, Anakin. This is my second life. Especially regarding the practical... when it comes to combat, I've been through a war. That exam didn't qualify as a 'Trial.' The Gathering was far more difficult."
"Listen to you. You barely even saw combat back then."
"That's one way to put it. Still, don't you think having actually fought a Sith Lord is a rather rare experience?"
"Ouch. That hits close to home. Okay, I get it. Let's drop the subject."
Anakin Skywalker raised his hands in mock surrender.
He was translucent, the wall behind him clearly visible through his chest. To put it simply, he was a ghost. But not just any ghost—he was a Force Spirit, one who had become one with the cosmic Force that permeated the universe. He was an entity that existed nowhere and everywhere, capable of communicating with the living long after his physical death.
"...Still, meeting you again after you were reborn on this backwater speck of a planet... let's see, it's been six years by this world's count? You've finally made it back to the starting line."
"Yes. I took every shortcut possible, but it still felt incredibly long."
"That just means you had a lot to learn. It wasn't a waste, was it?"
"No... I truly believe it wasn't. If I hadn't been reborn, I never would have realized how stagnant the Republic and the Jedi had become."
Kotoha shrugged self-deprecatingly. Anakin gave a small, bitter smile of agreement.
"Nothing lasts forever. I think this planet's religions call it 'impermanence'? That's just the way of things."
"Mm. But if it's lost—if it isn't eternal—you just have to build it again."
"I have mixed feelings about that," Anakin admitted. "I still care about the Jedi, but I have plenty of bad memories too. And trying to define people and society through a binary of good and evil is a trap. The history from the Republic to the Empire to the New Republic proves that."
"I know that. But as a prerequisite, you need peace in order to have the luxury of rotting. On the other hand, this planet can't even be called 'peaceful' yet."
"Fair point. Some parts of this world make Tatooine look like a vacation spot."
They shared a wry smile at the comparison to the lawless desert world.
It was true. This world—Earth—was not at peace. "Quirk"-related crimes were a daily occurrence, and the nature of those crimes was terrifyingly diverse. While Japan was a rare exception of relative safety, compared to the era before Quirks existed, the numbers of dead and missing were staggeringly high.
That was why.
"This planet needs the Jedi now. It needs Guardians of Peace."
Kotoha Masue had made her decision. Because she possessed a past life as a Jedi who protected the galaxy, she would do it again. For society, for peace, and above all, for freedom and justice. She would restore the Jedi Order—not as a relic of the past, but as a peacekeeping organization that transcended national borders.
By chance, her ideal coincided perfectly with the profession of "Hero" that so many children in this world admired. That was why she sought a hero's license and why she had applied to the most prestigious academy in the country.
"...Well, for old times' sake, I'll help you out."
Anakin agreed, though he hesitated slightly. The ideal was beautiful, and seeking peace and order was fundamentally "right." Yet, he couldn't be entirely optimistic.
He knew all too well: believing oneself to be the absolute embodiment of justice and goodness was the worst habit of the Jedi. The heartless "blade" of words swung from that moral high ground often created more evil than it destroyed. And yet, those who called themselves good could never understand why that evil existed, leading to an endless cycle of conflict. The history of the Jedi and the Sith was that cycle personified.
If history taught anything, it was that the clash of good and evil was born from mutual misunderstanding. That was the conclusion Anakin had reached—one who had walked the path of darkness and understood both sides deeply. This was why he worried about the flickering instability he sensed within Kotoha.
*(Well, she's improved a lot over)