The villain saw her.

  So Robinn vanished.

  Her shoes hit the dirt with a soft thud, the only sign she’d been there. The rest of her dispersed into air.

  Air. The clean space between all other things. No weight. No color. No sound.

  No sensation. No sight. No hearing.

  Just a shape of thought.

  He was fast.

  She had seen that before vanishing. The whips didn’t drag, they lashed, biting deep into concrete. One swing had cracked the pillar behind him. His stance was practiced. Left foot lead. Shoulders tight. A duelist, maybe. Sword background?

  Not good.

  Robinn couldn’t hold this form long. Full transformations were incredibly taxing. She couldn’t fight like this. Couldn’t feel.

  But she could plan.

  Rock and metal are my only options. Water’s a bad match... he controls it better. And air can’t hit back. Rock won’t hold. Those whips can cut concrete, they’ll shatter any blunt form I take. Metal’s the only answer. Dense, fast, and sharp. But I can’t shift my whole body. Not without burning out. So... partial only. Just knuckles. Just heels.

  Vision slammed in like a spotlight, sunlight, movement, color. The world snapped around her, the hiss of steam and the crack of whips returning like a thunderclap.

  She reassembled slowly, only her upper half returning to flesh. Her footsteps stayed silent, air made no sound on mud.

  She was behind a broken wall. The villain stood five meters away, whip trailing like a liquid blade along the ground. Searching.

  Now.

  Robinn lunged.

  The first whip came horizontal, she shifted her whole chest into air, the weapon slicing through empty space where her lungs had been a half-second before.

  She stepped in, fast and low, right knuckles turning metallic, she punched.

  The villain blocked with a sweep of water that coiled like a serpent. It took the hit but splashed wide, disrupted.

  Another whip came vertically, Robinn shifted, shoulders vanishing into air, reforming mid-spin, heel now metal, she kicked and it connected with his side. The villain stumbled.

  A third whip flicked toward her neck.

  She vanished again. only her head this time, most of the rest of her still grounded.

  No sound. No light. Just thought.

  He’s adapting.

  Head reformed. She dropped low and moved again, striking with metal fists. The whips met her mid-step, she shifted her forearms to air, dodged through, then shifted her fists into metal.

  One blow. Two. She aimed for joints. For nerves. For any break in rhythm.

  He wasn’t weak. He was trained. But she didn’t stop.

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  He was playing a game of attrition. She played one of calculation.

  Her breaths shortened. Vision blurred slightly.

  Focus.

  Another whip came down, dead center. She shifted a vertical line... from skull to waist, into air, the attack slicing through nothing. She spun, metal knuckles leading, and struck his jaw.

  The villain fell with a large thud.

  Finally.

  Robinn stood still for a long moment, panting through gritted teeth. Her arms shook, Her bottom half shifted back to normal, her socks soaked instantly in the mud, cold and heavy.

  No wounds. No bruises.

  But her muscles twitched from overuse. Sweat soaked her sleeves. She hated how loud her breath was now. Hated how her hands were trembling from pushing her limits again.

  But she hadn’t been hit. She’d won. But she didn’t celebrate.

  Instead, she dropped to a knee, knuckles to the dirt, drawing breath like it cost something. Her eyes darted toward the fake plaza in the distance.

  Others are still fighting.

  She pushed herself up, legs wobbling.

  Water Zone

  Midoriya’s lungs burned as he sprawled on the slanted deck, water sloshing under him.

  “We’re in trouble,” he wheezed, rolling onto his back.

  Tsuyu crouched low beside him, scanning the water with wide, unblinking eyes. “We’re not done yet.”

  Beneath them, the shark-toothed villain was still circling. Waiting. And he wasn’t alone. Shapes moved just under the surface, dozens of them. Villains who liked water. Who thrived in it.

  Mineta let out a high, strangled noise. He was crouched near the mast, knees to chest, clutching two sticky balls like they were prayer beads. “We can’t fight them! We can’t do anything! What are we supposed to do... wait for them to eat us?! Leave it to the pros! They’ll handle this!”

  Midoriya didn’t snap at him. Couldn’t. Because part of him agreed.

  He looked at the water, at the shadows shifting just below. We’re surrounded. His heart was still hammering from nearly drowning, and his arms felt like wet rope.

  “They’re too many,” he muttered. “And they’ve got the advantage out here...”

  “But we can’t sit here either Mineta,” Midoriya continued. “We can’t wait to be rescued. The pros don’t know we’re separated. If we stay, we’re done.”

  Tsuyu nodded sharply. “We need to reach land. Somewhere we can actually fight.”

  Midoriya inhaled, shakily, then pointed toward the distant plaza. “The center of the facility. That’s our best shot, we regroup there. With the others, we’ll stand a chance.”

  He paused. His voice dipped low.

  “...But how do we even get there? That’s a long swim. And we’re surrounded by villains built for this environment.”

  The water shifted again.

  A sudden crash split the air, the yacht lurched beneath them with a metallic groan as a massive, blade-edged wave slammed into its side. The deck split down the middle with a screech of torn hull.

  Midoriya hit the deck, scrambling for grip as the boat began to tilt, water rushing in through the fresh seam.

  The yacht was sinking. Midoriya gritted his teeth. No more time for thinking.

  He forced himself upright, staggering on the tilting deck. His vision swam, fatigue, fear, the cold bite of adrenaline. But he raised his arm anyway.

  “Asu- Tsu!” he barked. “Get ready to grab us once we’re in the water!”

  Her eyes widened. “Midoriya... what are you-”

  And then he jumped.

  The wind howled in his ears. The cold slapped him. Arm extended ready to flick his finger, air rushing past as he dropped like a stone toward the roiling water below.

  “Delaware SMASH!!!”

  His fingers lit up with a flash of lightning, crimson, white-hot and unstable. He flicked it aiming straight down into the surface.

  The blast of air detonated the sea.

  A roaring column of water exploded outward, a spiral of displaced waves and raw kinetic force. Villains screamed as the vortex pulled them in, spiraling around the center. Some slammed into each other. Some tried to escape and were dragged under again.

  Midoriya hit the water like a ragdoll, dazed, arm limp at his side.

  Mineta froze on the shattered yacht, jaw open. “He... he actually...” Then he moved.

  Screaming hoarsely, he yanked ball after ball off his head, throwing with wild, panicked force into the swirling chaos. Sticky orbs stuck to flailing limbs, torsos, faces. Villains slammed into one another, tangled together, trapped by the binding glue and the strength of the current.

  Midoriya surfaced in the swirl of the vortex, sputtering.

  And then a tongue snapped around his waist.

  With Mineta clinging to her back and Midoriya dragged alongside, she vaulted them both into the water with one powerful leap.

  She swam the three of them until they hit the cracked concrete edge of the central platform, soaked and gasping. Behind them, the yacht groaned once more before slipping fully beneath the waves

  Tsuyu rolled onto her back, chest heaving. “We’re alive. Ribbit.”

  Midoriya coughed, then laughed weakly. “Barely.”

  Mineta just laid there, eyes wide, breath coming in short gulps. “I think... I peed... a little.”

  They didn’t speak for a long minute. Just listened to the distant echoes of battle, the roar of destruction from the center plaza.

  Then Midoriya sat up. “...Let’s move. The others need help.”

  Author’s Note: On Robinn’s Quirk Mechanics: Some of you might be wondering: if Robinn turns parts of her body into air. like her entire lower half, shouldn’t the rest of her collapse? Wouldn’t her head drop if there’s nothing physically holding it up?

  becomes her own air, maintaining the exact shape and positioning of her original body. Think of it like a perfect molecular silhouette. That transformed matter still moves, balances, and supports itself as if solid. It’s her air, still under her control, still following the body’s logic.