Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The USJ incident earns her All Might's trust and, at the very least, Nedzu's respect.

Shuya's not stupid enough to think that she's won over the principal quite so fast. She does offer to get fact-checked by the walking lie detector, but in a show of goodwill, the Number 1 Hero declines.

Instead, Nedzu, the little shit, bombards her with this.

Shuya’s faced down the worst of what this stupid story has to offer. She’s survived Nedzu’s special tea sessions, the one no sane person would touch with a ten foot pole. She’s even endured Hizashi’s enthusiastic morning greetings at volumes that could shatter glass.

None of that prepares her for standing in front of Class 1-A, as stiff as board. 

"This is Kageyama Shuya," Aizawa drawls from beside her, his tone flat and unimpressed as always. "She'll be assisting with your quirk training until the Sports Festival. I expect you all to show her the same respect you'd show any other instructor."

His eyes sweep across the classroom, lingering with pointed emphasis. "That means manners. Am I clear?"

A chorus of halfhearted "Yes, sensei" responses ripple through the room.

Shuya keeps her expression carefully neutral, but internally, she’s screaming.

Like hell they’re gonna act normal about this — Shuya hasn’t said a word to Bakugo and he already looks pissed at her. And, considering the fact that this man is a raging feminist first and foremost, Shuya knows that if she mouths off to him, she’s bound to get a nice, big explosion to the face.

No one is spared.

Now, the question is, how in the ever living fuck did she get here?

Right after All Might had left the room and Shuya was still fuzzy with feelings, Nedzu had cornered her.

"You want me to do what?"

Shuya had stared at Principal Nedzu across his desk, certain she'd misheard.

"Analyze Class 1-A and 1-B's quirks," Nedzu had repeated cheerfully, whiskers twitching. "Observe their training, identify weaknesses, suggest improvements. Consider it a practical application of your studies."

"With all due respect, Principal, I don't think—"

He had slid a stack of papers near her.

"It will be excellent experience," Nedzu had continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "And I have every confidence in your abilities."

Shuya had stared at the paper, at the name Midoriya Izuku emblazoned in bold at the very top. "Why?"

She already knew why, but like, why?

"Because you have a unique perspective," Nedzu had said simply, not bothering to offer an actual explanation. "And because I believe your insights could help these students reach their full potential. Help them become better heroes."

Shuya had shot him a dry look. “Ah yes, insights from a General Education student who only learned how to read and write two months ago.”

Nedzu beamed over his tea. “Exactly!”

Which brings here now, staring at the sea of suspicious faces before her, and regretting every life choice that had led to this moment.

Now, Shuya had planned on meddling but from a safe distance, okay? Preferably ten kilometers way from Izuku at all times. Shiketsu sounds nice this time of the year, even between Baldie and iPhone Face. Shuya accidentally locks eyes Aoyama and wonders how long transfer applications take.

Holy shit. Holy shit.

And she’s supposed to be analyzing their quirks somehow.

That’s actually the easiest part of it.

She thinks idly, roving her gaze over the students while Eraser drones on his usual warnings. The harder part is how to give advice without getting nuked.

Bakugo already looks irritated, but that’s not Shuya’s fault — this early in the anime he’d would always look constipated. Thankfully, or actually sadly, Todoroki’s face is blank, completely uninterested. This is a teenager who will be accepting no advice, thank you very much.

In contrast, her darling, adorable Izuku looks curious, his eyes flickering with recognition but not wary or mistrusting. Shuya flashes him an extra grin for that. He immediately goes red.

Uraraka immediately whispers to Asui. Half the class seems confused, the other half seems vaguely annoyed which — understandable. I don’t wanna be here either.

Shuya’s exaggerating. Class 1-A isn’t that bad, especially not yet. Right?

Right?

Her smile freezes at the sight of Bakugo and Todoroki, and then over at Aoyama and Midoriya. And Shuya sighs.

“Just kill me now.” She mutters under her breath and Aizawa immediately side-eyes her. 

“That can be arranged, Kageyama.” She scowls at him, but he turns back, unaffected. “Now introduce yourself.”

Pinching her nose and trying her best not to snap, Shuya steps forward and folds her arms.

“Kageyama Shuya.” She says shortly. “1-C, Gen-Ed. I like sleeping and cats. Principal Nedzu’s asked me to help with your quirks up until the Sports Festival.”

Aizawa glares at his students. “She’s taking precious time out of her day to help you brats. Don’t act up and respect her.”

This is fine. Everything is fine. I'm fine.

"Any questions?" Aizawa asked, already sounding tired.

Please don't have questions. Please just accept this and—

Iida's hand shoot up, perfectly straight and formal and Shuya tries not to the kick trash can in front of her.

Of course.

"Yes, Iida?"

The class representative stands, adjusting his glasses with mechanical precision. "With all due respect, Sensei, I believe I speak for everyone when I ask: why is a fellow student being assigned to assist with our training? Shouldn't we have a pro hero, or at the very least, you yourself overseeing our quirk development? What qualifications does she have?"

Some of the other students nod in agreement, and to be very honest, Shuya can’t even begrudge them. It’s all Nedzu’s fault after all. Beside her, Aizawa's eye twitches. Just slightly, but Shuya catches it.

Whoops.

“That’s a fair question,” Shuya says, before Aizawa can respond. Best to spare the kids a heart attack. She takes a step forward, tapping a finger on the edge of her frames pointedly. “My quirk is called Foresight.”

Recognition dawns on some of their faces, especially some of the bigger All Might fans like Bakugo and Midoriya. And Shuya smiles thinly.

“I can predict the future by calculating the most probable one out of the thousands of realities I see.” She keeps her voice level, professional. "I’ll be using a toned-down version though. Essentially, I can see what you're doing wrong and help you course-correct before bad habits solidify. That's useful for training, no?"

She pats herself on the back for that explanation. It was actually pretty good for, y’know, a lie. But Shuya knows that the pinnacle of Class 1-A’s quirk journeys look like, and she has a nerdy brain to make up the rest of it.

Despite her reassurance, Iida still looks unconvinced. Several other students exchange doubtful glances.

"But experience—" Ojiro starts, looking a little uncertain.

"Experience matters." Yaoyorozu agrees, leveling a calm but intent gaze on Shuya. “I am still concerned. Is U.A. lacking certified quirk counselors?”

Murmurs of agreement ripples through the classroom, everyone shifting a little.

Shuya felt her eye twitch.

Alright. Fine. You want credentials?

“I’m Principal Nedzu’s private student.” Shuya cuts off Yaoyorozu’s complaint. “And I ranked first in U.A.’s written exam with only two months of preparation. Do you need more confirmation, Yaoyorozu-san?”

The girl looks a little taken a back at Shuya knowing her by name, her face still not used to masking emotions. And Shuya can’t help but soften.

These are literal kids after all.

“You’re the one—?”

Kids she’s going to have to gaslight, gatekeep and girlboss the shit out of in order to make sure they make it out of this war unscathed.

Shuya raises her chin, gives a close-eyed smile.

“I’ll introduce myself again. I am Kageyama Shuya from Class 1-C. I achieved a perfect score on the written entrance exam and currently under the private apprenticeship of Principal Nedzu.” Shuya roves a calm, but firm gaze over each and everyone of the students, bowing slightly. “I will be helping you all improve your quirk control ahead of the Sports Festival. I am your care.”

The she pauses, lifts her head. “Oh, and,”

Shuya curls her fingers, points nonchalantly over her shoulder at the glowering Aizawa.

“…I’m that one’s favorite. Tread carefully.”

The classroom fell silent.

Bakugo's scowl deepens, but now there's a glint of interest in his eyes. Todoroki's blank expression doesn't changed, but he'd stops looking through her and starts looking at her. Midoriya's hand is already halfway to his notebook, fingers twitching.

"Anything else?" Shuya asks sweetly.

No one raises their hand.

From within his sleeping bag, Aizawa's muffled voice drifts out: "Good. Now let her do her job so I can sleep."

Yeah, Shuya thinks, fighting down the hysterical laugh bubbling in her chest. This is definitely going to be fine.

Totally fine.

I'm so screwed.

“—Sero, did you just tape your own face shut — how did you even—”

“—Midoriya, breathe — no, I mean physically breathe, you’re turning blue—”

“—Iida, turn. Turn. You can’t sprint in straight lines forever. Life has corners—”

“—Oh for fuck’s sake Bakugou, you don’t need to blow something up just because I looked at you. Calm the fuck down—”

“—Shoji-kun, thank you for being the only competent person here — no, that wasn’t sarcasm — no, seriously, thank you, you’re keeping me alive—”

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

Well, Shuya had already known the moment Nedzu had slid that paper over to her that this was a shit idea. She’s more so talking about pairing these idiots up for spars, and giving them pointers about their quirks. Simple, right?

The problem is that Shuya forgets to tell them to go in one at a time versus all at once. What do you get then?

This.

Beside her, she hears the human caterpillar mumble.

“Remind me to never let you be a teacher.”

“Remind me to switch your coffee with decaf.” She snaps back instinctively, then turns back towards the mess that is class 1-A. “Oh for fuck’s sake—”

Shuya sighs at the sight of Izuku rolling around in the ground with Ojiro, Todoroki with half his head frozen and Asui trying to drown Mineta, then turns her head and stalks away in the opposite direction. She finds what she wants fairly quickly, a quick blur of blonde absolutely going to town exploding poor Kirishima. He immediately turns, furious at being touched. 

“Hah — the fuck you want, extra—”

Shuya merely grips Katsuki’s shoulders hard, stares him directly in the eyes without a hint of humor and tells him.

“I need you to make the biggest fucking explosion this world has ever seen, dipshit. Can you do that?”

Katsuki is still for a long moment.

Then terrifying grin splits across his face, red eyes gleaming like pools of blood. That’s the only warning Shuya gets to dive the fuck outta the way before—

“HOOOWIITZZER IMMMPPPACCCT!!”

The entire gym explodes.

Oh, did he have the name down for this one already?

Shuya thinks sardonically as she peels herself off the floor like a sticker, trying her best not to sneeze at the ash and debris. As the dust settles, the entire gym is silent, and all of the students are looking at Bakugo with extremely wide eyes and burnt, poofy hair.

The only person who’s been spared is Todoroki, and that’s only because he took the explosion left side first.

She claps her hands and steps forward.

“The next time you don’t listen to me I’m siccing him on your asses.” Behind her, Shuya can feel Bakugo bristle, so she changes her angle. She smiles threateningly. “I’m sure Bakugo-kun would love to do some target practice.”

He goes still and Shuya tries not to roll her eyes. Yep, the idea of hunting down his classmates would be fun to this shitstain. Especially, she thinks dryly as her eyes shift toward Izuku, ones he has a score to settle with.

“This is the end of training today. I’ve got class in like five minutes.”

One of the dumbasses raises their hands — Mineta of all fucking people. Shuya’s still plotting to get his ass kicked from U.A.

“Hey! But you didn’t use your quirk at all!”

Then, because Shuya’s a little shit.

“And waste it on you idiots?” She snorts, instantly ruffling feathers. When the murmuring doesn’t stop, Shuya snaps her fingers. “Our next session is next week. You have until then to write out at least five different ways your partner could use their quirk creatively in a battle.”

“Wait, isn’t that your job? You’re supposed to tell us!”

But Shuya’s already moving, grabbing her backpack and barely tossing 1-A a look.

“Well, I would’ve told you that,” She gives them all a shit-eating grin, then shrugs. “But some people were too busy fighting to listen. Maybe they’ll listen next time!”

“But—”

“Those who listened already know.” She shoots Mineta a cold look, roving her eyes over Shoji, Tokoyami, and surprisingly Bakugo of all people. She pauses, then tosses the blonde an offhanded remark. “You.”

He bristles. “What.”

She curls up a hand, resting it on her palm. “Think about concentrating your explosions in one direction. Kind of like a bullet.”

Bakugo looks half-irritated half-thoughtful at the input, but Shuya doesn’t stick around long enough to see his reaction. Instead she swings her bag over her shoulder and shoots Aizawa a look.

“I’m heading out, Eraser.”

“Don’t loiter in the halls.”

“Of course not, Snipe would have my ass.”

“He would not.” Aizawa sighs, reluctantly peeling himself out of the sleeping bag and standing. “I don’t understand why, but he seems to like you.”

“It’s me being a science nerd.” Shuya snorts, stepping over the threshold. “Alright, Eraser. I’ll see you at home?”

Just to add a little spice.

Aizawa gives her a narrow look, like he knows what she’s doing but is too tired to care about it. Then, after a long moment, he mumbles.

“Whatever. Yes.”

Shuya tosses the gawking students one final grin, then turns and leaves.

“Cool! I’m making fried chicken!”

Shouta’s kids have taken to staring at Shuya.

Whether it’s in the halls, cafeteria or out in the fields, one of them without fail, will always be gawking at her. Then they’ll turn around and murmur into another’s ears, giving her shifty but uncertain looks.

It’s absolutely hilarious, because it’s making Hitoshi antsy that one of them’s gonna jump her at any moment. Which, knowing 1-A, is a very reasonable possibility. But instead of beating her up, they’re more likely to bundle her up and make her sleep for once.

"Kageyama-san!"

She pauses at the familiar loud-pitched voice, turning to find herself in one of U.A.'s main hallways during lunch rush. Students stream around them in both directions, a river of navy uniforms and chatter. "Who—"

"Kageyama-san!" The next second Midoriya Izuku slides into frame, looking a tad bit nervous but still bouncing on his feet. His green hair is slightly disheveled, like he's been running. "D—Do you remember me? I'm Midoriya Izuku, we met at the entrance exam—"

"Ah," Shuya makes a point of raising her brows, clapping her hands in recognition. "The bone-breaking kid!"

Predictably, the little green bean flinches. Shuya gives a crooked grin, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I remember you, kid. Good to see you're on your feet, what with the USJ and all."

Midoriya's face brightens immediately, relief and something like excitement flooding his features. "Y-Yes! Thanks to you, actually — I mean, not directly, but I was able to work my quirk through your advice and it helped against the villains and—" He's starting to ramble now, hands gesturing wildly. "—and I've been wanting to thank you because if you hadn't helped me then —"

Shuya stares at him, a little fond.

This is the same gremlin that routinely breaks his arms, beats the shit out a classmate until they become friends, and nearly nukes Shigaraki for hurting his precious Kacchan. Midoriya Izuku is a cinnamon roll, but he is also the most terrifying thing to walk this earth.

And he’s very, very adorable.

He makes her miss her shit goblin brothers.

“It’s cool, kid.” Shuya can’t help but ruffle his hair. “I’m glad to see it helped.”

He may be adorable, but he’s not an idiot. Her smile only widens at the hungry glint in his eyes, masked by his usual gentle demeanor. This one’s mad for knowledge.

And currently, Shuya is the subject of his interest.

Hmm. She thinks idly, watching him bounce on his feet. To indulge or not to indulge…

“—then I thought about powering up the entire body all at once, but realized that I — uh — would probably just explode so—”

"Oi! Move it, Deku!"

The bark comes a split second before Katsuki Bakugo shoulders past them with enough force to make Midoriya stumble. The blonde doesn't even slow down, his red eyes fixed straight ahead, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Outta the damn way," He mutters, loud enough for them to hear. "Blocking the whole fucking hallway like a pair of—"

The rest is lost in a stream of creative obscenities as he disappears into the crowd, leaving a wake of startled first-years in his path.

"K-Kacchan, wait, I didn't mean to—" Midoriya starts, half-turning like he might actually chase after the explosive blonde. His shoulders hunch slightly, that automatic apologetic posture that makes something in Shuya's chest twist.

He's so used to this, she realizes, watching the way Midoriya's hand lifts like he wants to reach out but doesn't quite dare. I suppose the rejection stings more coming from someone you admire.

Even now, with a quirk and acceptance into U.A., some habits are hard to break.

Though Season 1 Bakugo really does deserve a good ass kicking. Hey, Shuya’s all for BakuDeku — platonic or otherwise. Even a casual anime fan like herself had gotten chills watching the latest season. These two were insane.

Well, Shuya thinks, staring down at the nervous boy. Probably not right now. Later. Much, much later.

As if on cue, Midoriya turns back to her with a strained smile, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry about that, Kageyama-san. I must have been holding you up here, I should probably—"

But he doesn't move, not immediately. Instead, he looks back at Shuya with those earnest green eyes, and she can see the questions building behind them. Questions about her quirk, about the USJ, about how she knew—

"Have you had lunch yet?"

The question comes out before Shuya can second-guess it. Midoriya blinks at her, thrown by the sudden subject change.

"I — what?"

Shuya softens her expression, letting the crooked grin return. Something about the way this kid lights up when someone shows him basic kindness makes her want to protect him from the world. It also makes her want to kick someone, anyone. He's too good, too earnest, too bright for all the darkness that's coming.

Not for the first time, Shuya’s reminded.

These are literal children.

She’s not that much older, but she’s been on her own for a long time. So it’s fine.

It’s fine.

"Lunch," She repeats, jerking her head toward the cafeteria. "You. Me. Come on."

She starts walking, not waiting for an answer. Behind her, she can hear Midoriya make a strangled sound of surprise.

"W-Wait, Kageyama-san, I couldn't possibly — you don't have to—"

Shuya glances back over her shoulder, and maybe it's the lighting or maybe it's just good timing, but the way she moves is effortless. Cool. The kind of casual confidence that comes from not giving a damn what anyone thinks. Her grey eyes catch his, and her grin sharpens into something knowing.

"You have questions, right?"

It's not really a question. More of a statement. An acknowledgment of the elephant in the room—or rather, the elephant in the hallway.

Midoriya freezes mid-step, his eyes going comically wide. For a moment he just stares at her, and Shuya can practically see the gears turning in his head. The realization that yes, she knows he wants to ask about her quirk. About the USJ. About everything.

And she's offering.

"I—" His voice cracks slightly. He clears his throat, and when he speaks again there's something almost awed in his tone. Like she's just done something incredibly cool instead of just inviting him to lunch. "If it's not a bother, Kageyama-san! I would — I'd love to! Thank you so much!"

He looks like the mere idea of being given something is foreign.

It kind of makes her heartache, but Shuya bites the melancholy down and grins wildly.

“Alright then! Chop, chop! Let’s go, I’m starving!”

Shuya doesn’t wait for his response, knowing full well he can catch up to her — quirk or otherwise. Her most recent rabbit hole deep dive had revealed that generations of quirk evolution had resulted in the human exoskeleton becoming much more sturdy to accommodate the strain of their quirks. These people are literally built like tanks, quirk or no quirk — because those traits are still passed down! It’s only gonna get better and better with each generation too!

She tells Midoriya as such, and the boy immediately jumps on the topic.

“Oh, is that the Miyazaki et. al paper? It’s fairly new and was only published in one journal so it’s taken a while for the findings to go around—”

Shuya watches Izuku from the corner of her eyes. He's practically vibrating with excitement now, that nervous energy redirected into pure enthusiasm. It's kind of adorable, actually.

He’s in his element.

The dark-haired girl hums along, realizing idly that Midoriya Izuku would make a good conversation partner. He, at least, chose to use his brain a bit more than the others (well, all the self-sacrifice aside), so lunch would be—

Oh.

Right.

Shuya pauses in her tracks, right at the door of the cafeteria. She glances back at Midoriya, who nearly runs into her and has to do an awkward hop-skip to avoid a collision.

"Ah," She says, and there's something almost apologetic in her tone now. "But I suppose you might have to win over a grumpy cat first."

"A... cat?" Midoriya tilts his head, confusion clear on his face.

Shuya's grin turns slightly mischievous. "You'll see."

Internally, she's already running through the likely scenario. Hitoshi has been sitting with her at lunch for the past week, ever since they officially became friends. And Hitoshi — well. He's not exactly subtle about his opinions on the hero course students.

Especially not Midoriya.

He’s never said it in so many words, but Shuya remembers his disdain for the hero course well. Plus the whole Sports Festival thing. She’s kind of looking forward to that cringy speech and confrontation in front of 1-A.

And yet.

She ducks her head, gives a wry smile.

The kid with the "perfect" quirk for heroics, Shuya remembers the bitter edge in Hitoshi's voice when he'd mentioned it once. The augmentation type that everyone dreams of. The kind of quirk that gets you into the hero course on ideal alone.

Oh, Hitoshi, if only you knew.

It's not fair, of course. It's not Midoriya's fault that he has One For All—well, technically it is All Might's fault for giving it to him, but that's beside the point. Plus, the poor kid literally has a target painted on his back now — will be beaten down, stripped to the bone, completely undone by the same people he’s so determined to protect.

It’s a fate she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy.

And yet still.

She gives the green-haired teen a quick glance, before turning back ahead.

He’ll continue to smile.

But the point is that Hitoshi sees Midoriya as everything he's not. Everything the world values and celebrates while quirks like Brainwashing get labeled as villainous. She’s still pissed about it, but there’s nothing she can do about it right now. Key word: right now.

This could go very badly.

Or—

Shuya glances at Midoriya, who's still looking at her with that open, earnest expression. Then slaps a hand on his back, making him yelp.

“You’ll be fine! You’re like — the nicest person I know.”

“U — Uh, I don’t think—”

“Shush, lets go in!”

He's a literal ray of sunshine, Shuya thinks with amusement. If anyone can win over a grumpy purple-haired cat, it's this kid.

Besides, they'll need to learn to get along eventually. In canon, Hitoshi and Midoriya ended up as friends — or at least friendly rivals. Might as well speed up that timeline a bit.

She pushes through the cafeteria doors, Midoriya trailing behind her like an eager puppy.

Time to see if the universe's favorite cinnamon roll can work his magic on her favorite insomniac.

Hitoshi is giving her a dirty look. Shuya smiles serenely.

Then,

"Midoriya-kun."

"Yes, Kageyama-san?"

"Shinsou-kun here has a Brainwashing Quirk."

"You, what?!"

Midoriya's eyes go comically wide, his chopsticks clattering onto his tray. His head whips toward Hitoshi so fast Shuya's worried he might give himself whiplash.

"Brainwashing?! As in actual mind control?! That's — that's incredible! How does it work? Is it touch-based? Visual? Do you need to maintain eye contact? What about the duration — how long can you hold someone under? Can you give complex commands or just simple ones? What happens if—"

"Dude, breathe," Shinsou interrupts, leaning back with his hands raised. But there's a slight flush creeping up his neck — he's not used to someone being excited about his quirk.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Midoriya's practically vibrating in his seat now. "It's just — Brainwashing is such a powerful quirk! The applications for hero work are endless! You could de-escalate hostage situations without violence, disable villains before they can use their quirks, coordinate rescue operations by directing civilians to safety—"

"See?" Shuya says smugly, jabbing her chopsticks in Midoriya's direction. "I told you your quirk is amazing."

Hitoshi shoots a glare in her direction and Shuya merely shrugs, unrepentant. Her goal’s to beat in some self-esteem into this kid. If she’s helping Midoriya get over his anxiety at the same time, then what would be better?

"Amazing doesn't even cover it!" Midoriya is pulling out his ever-present notebook now, flipping to a blank page with frightening speed. "Shinsou-kun, please, I have so many questions—"

"Oh god, he's got a notebook" Hitoshi mutters, shooting Shuya a betrayed look. "Where did you even — Mushroom, what have you done?"

"Made you friends!" Shuya chirps. "You're welcome!"

"I didn't ask for this—"

"Shinsou-kun!" Midoriya interrupts, stars practically shining in his eyes. "Does the brainwashing activate on verbal response? So if someone answers you, they're caught? That would explain why you're so quiet—you're being careful not to accidentally activate it on classmates! That's so responsible! And the strategic applications — if you can control when it activates, you could bait villains into responding during combat—"

"How did you figure that out in thirty seconds?!" Hitoshi looks genuinely alarmed now.

"Oh, he does this," Shuya says casually, continuing to eat. "Don't worry, you get used to it."

"I don't want to get used to it—"

"And the fact that it's a mental quirk means it probably bypasses most physical defenses!" Midoriya is scribbling furiously now, muttering under his breath. "So even mutation quirks or armor-types would be vulnerable — and if you train to extend the duration, you could theoretically control multiple people at once by staggering the activation—"

"Okay, now I see why you like him," Hitoshi says to Shuya, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "He's just as unhinged as you are."

"Excuse me—"

"Shinsou-kun, have you tried combining your quirk with capture weapons?!" Midoriya looks up from his notebook with an expression of pure manic glee. "Like Eraserhead! If you could immobilize someone and control them—"

“Actually,” Shuya smirks in Hitoshi’s direction, whose eyes immediately go wide. He shoots forward, but is too late to shut her up. “Hitoshi-kun’s a huge fan of Eraserhead—”

“Shut up!”

"What?!" Midoriya looks like Hitoshi just told him Christmas came early. "That's perfect! Then you must be aware of his capture techniques! The synergy would be incredible — you could use the binding to keep them in place while you give commands, or use voice activation to draw their attention before capture—"

"See, Hitoshi?" Shuya grins. "I told you people would appreciate your quirk."

He glowers at her, a little salty. "One hyperactive green bean does not equal 'people'—"

"I'm not hyperactive, I'm enthusiastic—"

"You're definitely hyperactive—"

"Can we get back to the quirk analysis please?!” Midoriya cuts in impatiently, all decorum long forgotten in the pursuit of knowledge. Yep, that’s the madman she knows and loves. “I still need to know about the command complexity parameters and whether there's a difference in effectiveness based on target intelligence—"

Hitoshi and Shuya exchange a look.

Then the purple haired teen sighs, pulls his lunch tray closer, and says: "Alright, green bean. You've got until the end of lunch. Ask away."

The smile that splits Midoriya's face is absolutely radiant.

Shuya watches them start their enthusiastic quirk discussion — Midoriya asking rapid-fire questions, Shinsou actually engaging and looking less bitter than he has in weeks — and she can't help but feel a warm satisfaction in her chest.

Yeah. This is good.

In the end, Midoriya never does get to ask Shuya questions about the USJ. But she doesn’t mind.

And, she thinks, as she watches the subtle smile on Hitoshi’s face.

It seems he doesn’t too.

Word goes around of Shuya’s little side gig with 1-A. 

So, by the time she gets around to her sessions with 1-B, they're already very, very determined to outdo their 1-A counterparts. In Monoma's flamboyant words, they need to crush those 1-A wretches in any and everything. He doesn't really say all of that, because Kendo karate chops and drags him away halfway through, but Shuya gets the message. 

They're amazing to work with. 

Shuya doesn't really remember most of their quirks, safe for a handful including Kendo and Monoma, so she actually has to use her brain for it. Not only is 1-B open to listening, they're receptive and eager about applying her advice. She loves them, especially that Pony girl whose supposed to be an exchange student from the States but has such bad English that it's giving Shuya an aneurysm.  

Did — Did it just get lost in translation, or are you fucking with me here? 

As for her 1-C, at first her classmates are a little aghast by the very idea, thinking stupid stuff like how she’s ‘selling out’ to the enemy. Hitoshi makes such an expressive face at that claim that Shuya cackles, never mind the fact that he’d have said the same a month ago.

She smiles to herself.

The divide between heroics and the rest of the cohort is significant after all. It’s sad, but it makes sense, given how U.A. is, first and foremost, a hero school. She should really get around to bridging that. 

“Er…Kageyama-san?”

It’s during homeroom that Nagisa, one of her classmates with a neat spider quirk approaches her. A couple of the others turn too and Shuya can feel Hitoshi’s sleepy gaze on her as she looks up and smiles.

“Yes Nagisa-chan? How I can help you?”

The tiny girl fiddles with her fingers, looking a little nervous. Then, as if coming to a resolution, she looks up with determined eyes and says,

“What—What should I do to train my quirk for the Sports Festival?”

Shuya stares at her.

At the earnest look on her face, at the determination in all eight of her eyes, unmasked for the first time since they’d started school. Nagisa was a shy, unsure girl.

It’s a strange feeling, what blooms in her heart at that moment. Shuya smiles, then beckons her closer.

“You have a spider quirk, right? Can you produce webs?”

The way the girl lights up is worth everything that comes after. Shuya kicks Hitoshi out of his seat, offers it to Nagisa and the two chat about her quirk for the rest of homeroom. The tensile strength of spider silk is well over 1 GPa, almost as strong as high-strength steel while keeping a degree of elasticity. Nagisa seems surprised to learn that, but freezes when Shuya leans in and mentions swinging from the goddamn webs.

The grin that splits across her face is legendary.

Shuya answers all her questions without faltering, never once thinking about what’s to come or about the eyes on them.

It helps that her favorite superhero back in her world had been Spiderman.

After that little encounter, it’s as if a dam is opened.

“You’ve got a reflective quirk, don’t you? Try blinding your opponents, or even magnifying it to a point to burn stuff!”

“What about a balance quirk? Why balance only vertically? Can’t you do it horizontally too? Walk on the walls, my man.”

“Get angry. That’s it. That’s the solution.”

More and more of her classmates come to her not just asking for advice, but actively strategizing for the Sports Festival. To be very honest, a big chunk of them are still too jaded to engage with the planning, while others are doing with the purpose of ‘showing’ up the hero students rather than the genuine desire to transfer into the hero course.

No, Hitoshi’s ambition is very, very different to this.

He gives her a dry smile once the last of their classmates dissipate. “Are you going to give me lessons now too, sensei?”

Shuya flashes Hitoshi a rare, sincere smile. Then she grabs his arm and drags him out the door, toward the gyms. His eyes go wide.

“Mushroom, what—”

“I’m not going to be the one teaching you.” Is all she says, willing him to follow obediently. “I think you need more, kid.”

“We’re the same age, dumbass.”

Shuya doesn’t deign answering that. If only you knew, brat.

But Hitoshi follows after her, squeezing her arm once in reassurance that no, he’s not gonna bolt. It’s only after that that Shuya lets go of his arm.

They reach Gym Alpha, and Shuya grins as she sees a familiar yellow sleeping bag.

“There you are, Eraser!”

Behind her Hitoshi freezes, his eyes going impossibly wide.

“Wha—”

The yellow monstrosity resting against the wall twitches at her voice, two bloodshot eyes opening to blink blearily up at her.

“You’re late.”

But Shuya doesn’t answer him. Instead, she turns around to grab Hitoshi’s hand and pulls him forward, grinning the entire time.

“I called in a favor.” She says impishly, grey eyes glittering with thinly disguised glee. “Eraser-sensei here would love to teach you some hand-to-hand!”

When Hitoshi finally tears his gaze away from Shouta who’s slowly peeling himself out of his sleeping bag, he whispers out a single, breathless sentence.

“Thank you.”

Shuya, of course, does not rest at all afterward. She’s a woman on a mission, even if Shouta immediately turns to her afterward and drawls,

“You’re doing it too. You should not be this out of breath just walking around campus.”

“But—!”

“No buts. Now go run around the track. You too, Shinsou.”

Hitoshi quickly graduates to direct hand-to-hand with Shouta. Shuya’s still stuck trying to complete a mile without wheezing her guts out. She’s like, sixty-seven percent sure this is Shouta’s revenge for her bullying Nedzu into making him do this in exchange for training the 1-A kids.

Shuya’s still got a favor from Vlad King she hasn’t cashed in yet, but she’s got plans for that, so he’s off the hook for now.

So instead, the woman moves onto her next agenda.

Izuku, naturally, is an absolute sweetheart.

One who is clueless around girls, but still very much a sweetheart.

So when Shuya decides she needs to get him in front of Hatsume Mei ASAP, she knows it'll be like herding cats — if the cats were prone to anxious muttering and breaking their own bones.

Look, Shuya has priorities. And Priority Number One is making sure that Izuku's disaster of a hero costume never sees the light of day again. That thing is a crime against fashion and functionality. She knows the jumpsuit was a gift from his mom, but still. Plus it got shredded at the USJ anyway, so really, she's just being efficient.

The girl already needs ‘models’ to demonstrate her products at the Sports Festival, and even Shuya had felt a little bad for the rundown the madwoman had give poor Iida during their match. In the spirit of sparing Iida the humiliation (and replacing it with Hitoshi’s overwhelming victory), Shuya elects to seek out the mad inventor.

The problem is that Hatsume Mei is notoriously difficult to pin down. The girl is either elbow-deep in some explosive contraption or zooming around campus testing her latest "baby" with absolutely zero regard for safety regulations.

Which is why, Shuya thinks as she lurks near the Support Course building during lunch, I need to figure out how to organically bump into her and—

Something whistles past her head.

Shuya's entire life flashes before her eyes — both of them, actually, original universe included — as a flying camera drone nearly takes her head clean off her shoulders. She hits the ground hard, more from shock than intention, and has just enough time to think oh you've GOT to be kidding me before something collides with her skull with a sickening CRACK.

Everything goes black.

"—completely unacceptable, Hatsume! This is the third incident this month—"

"But Power Loader-sensei, the trajectory calculations were perfect! How was my baby supposed to know someone would be standing there?"

"That's exactly the point! You're supposed to CHECK before—"

Shuya's eyes flutter open to a throbbing headache and the fluorescent lights of what is unmistakably the Support Course lab. Various mechanical parts litter every surface, the smell of motor oil and welding hangs thick in the air, and—

Oh.

Oh.

There she is.

Mei Hatsume stands in front of a very angry Power Loader, looking completely unrepentant despite the tongue-lashing she's receiving. Her pink hair is wild, goggles perched on her head, and her eyes are gleaming with the manic energy of someone who's never met a safety regulation they didn't immediately violate.

She's perfect.

Shuya feels something warm dripping from her nose. She reaches up—her fingers come away red.

Probably from the concussion, she thinks distantly. Actually, no definitely from the concussion. Lets use this.

"—and when she wakes up, you're going to apologize profusely, do you understand me, Hatsume?"

"Yes, yes, of course, Power Loader-sensei," Mei says in that tone that suggests she's absolutely not listening. Well, she’s obviously not, goggles on and scribbling on some blueprints. Power Loader bristles, on the very of exploding.

"Hatsume Mei! Put that damn pencil down right this minute! I mean it!—"

"Aw, come on, Sensei — I'm sure she'll be very understanding—"

That's Shuya's cue.

She sits up so fast her vision swims. Both Power Loader and Mei whirl toward her, identical expressions of alarm on their faces. Well, on one expression — Shuya can’t really see Mei’s eyes through those weird ass goggles. Or are those just her eyes.

Huh.

"Kageyama!" Power Loader rushes over, his mechanical hands already reaching for a first aid kit. "Don't move too fast — you took a serious blow to the head — we’ve already notified Mic—"

Shuya ignores him.

Her eyes lock onto Hatsume Mei like a heat-seeking missile.

Bingo.

And then she lunges.

"Woah—hey—!" Mei barely has time to yelp before Shuya's hand shoots out, grabbing the front of her work shirt with desperate strength.

Shuya's grin is feral. Wide and mad and gleeful, her grey eyes gleaming with unhinged delight. Blood still dripping from her nose. Hair a complete disaster. She looks absolutely unhinged.

It’s alright though, because she’s here to get shit done.

“Your babies…”

Mei blinks behind her massive goggles, confusion flickering across her face. “My—what?”

Shuya’s smirk widens impossible further, completely and utterly deranged.

And then throws her head back and crows at the top of her lungs:

"ARE MINE!"

The entire lab goes silent.

Power Loader's jaw drops. Several students freeze mid-work, tools clattering to the ground. Someone in the back makes a strangled noise.

Mei just...stares. Processing. Then her eyes go wide behind her goggles, and a manic grin slowly spreads across her face to match Shuya's. She leans in, nose to nose, eyes gleaming madly.

“You want my babies?”

"YES!" Shuya's grip tightens on Mei's shirt, pulling her closer. "I want all of them! Every single one!"

There’s a slew of muttering behind them now, Power Loader looking a little faint. One of them is a little louder than the rest.

“They’ve got to know what this sounds like.”

Whatever. Shuya’s all in for gay rights. Especially if it gets her access to Mei’s babies.

Mei looks so deeply flattered, grabbing Shuya’s shoulders. “I’ll give you my best ones!”

"And when I'm done—" Shuya's voice drops to something almost tender. "I'll show the whole school what your babies can do!"

Mei actually squeals. "You're going to make them famous!"

"I'll make them legendary!"

"This is the most beautiful thing anyone's ever said to me!"

“SHHHHHUYYAAA—CHAANN! HEY HEY HEY, ARE YOU ALIVE, YO?!”

The lab door slams open — Mic rushing through the door way, eyes wild behind his glasses, just as Shuya grabs both of Mei’s hands, still kneeling on the ground, looks up with stars in her eyes and blood dripping down her nose and declares.

“I promise I’ll take responsibility for your babies, Mei! Choose me!”

“So how did you meet Hatsume-san again?”

“I told her I want her babies.”

At that moment Hitoshi runs into a wall. Shuya shoots him a deeply unimpressed look. He’s unaffected, nose reddening but gawking down at her.

“W—What?”

Shuya just sighs, reaching up to pat his head sympathetically. The only problem is that she’s like, a head shorter than him, so it’s just her awkwardly reaching up for the heavens.

She really ought to ask him what the weather is like up there one of these days.

“The things I do for you.”

"For the last time, you have to participate in the Sports Festival."

"But whyy."

Shouta pauses at that, turning around to fix Shuya with one final, severe glare. "Because it is mandatory for all students."

"But what if I'm sick?" Shuya demands, not backing down at all. Suddenly her face goes slack, and she deadpans, "Oh no, I'm on my period—I can't possibly do physical exercise."

"Nice try," Shouta retorted dryly. "But I'd believe that excuse more if you weren't grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat."

"But this is necessary — no, imperative for my mental health, Sensei! You know what'll happen to my twig arms in between the Hero students and Hitoshi!"

"Take a hike."

"You know I can't!"

Shouta remains unmoved.

Shuya resists the urge to sigh, trying her best to ignore the worsening migraine. Fine, Plan A isn't going to work. She didn't really expect it either—whatever was she going to be able to do by her lonesome against Stain? Then Plan B it was.

"Fine," She stomped her foot on frustration. It barely made a sound. Shouta raises an eyebrow. "I'll even look ahead and show you that I'm gonna have a terrible time!"

She makes a show of crossing her eyes before Shouta can activate his quirk.

"See—"

Crack.

The next thing Shuya knows she's on the ground, her head spinning and a handful of teachers hovering over her with varying levels of panic. She tries to focus on Aizawa, tries to grit her teeth and ignore the pounding headache.

Something feels wrong, wrong, wrong—

She pauses at the look on his face.

"Shuya." He says steadily, despite how wide his eyes are. "Your nose is bleeding."

She raises a single hand and touches her face. It comes back red.

This time Shuya matches Shouta's uncertain gaze with an equally unnerved expression.

Yagi-san, bless his heart, hauls her off to the infirmary in his All Might form. Shuya doesn't have the heart, nor the energy to remind that she's aware of his secret and that he doesn't need to inflate. She's more preoccupied by her spinning vision, the rising nausea and the suffocation in her chest of something being wrong, wrong, wrong—

Shuya can't breathe.

She passes out.

The sky is black.

No — there just isn't any color. Everything is just black and grey. The entire world is black and grey. Her ears are ringing — there's some sort of static muffling — no, dulling the world. She turns her head slowly, sluggishly — as if she's in slow motion. Something holds her down, prevents her from moving freely. She can't breathe. She can't breathe. 

But when she looks at her feet, there are no bonds. Her chest is free. 

Then there's a muffled noise.

Her head snaps up and — and there's two people in an alley. The too-white moon above them casts light upon their features, at the growing puddle of blood on the ground bleeding from the man on the ground. The other stands on top of him, holding a stained sword and frenzied, intense eyes focused on his prey.

Stained. Stain.

Shuya's eyes widen.

She — she's not supposed to be here.

She takes one, slow step back and — and —

That gaze snaps to her and Shuya realizes that it's red — it's blood red in a world of shadows, in a world of blacks and greys and—

And it's hungry for her blood.

But just as those eyes register her presence, as his hackles rises and he pounces — the muffled static finally sharpens into a loud, shrill cry.

You're not supposed to be here. Leave, leave, LEAVE, LEAVE—

Shuya jolts awake.

When she comes to, the sun is setting and Hizashi is sitting by her side. He jumps when he sees her eyes flutter open slowly and pure relief paints his features. "Shuya-chan! You're awake!"

His loud voice makes her flinch and he instantly apologizes. She finally relaxes when she registers his voice.

"…Where?"

"You're in the infirmary." Hizashi tells her once he recomposes himself, as if reminding himself that he's the adult here. His voice softens. "You gave us all quite a scare, little listener."

Shuya turns her blank gaze back to the ceiling, notes that the call light is just as red, red—

"Can — can you bring Eraser-sensei here? Please?"

"Little listener, are ya sure you're okay? Recovery Girl said ya overused your Quirk—"

"No, I didn't."

Quirk? What Quirk?

Shuya's not from this world. She doesn't have a quirk. She's quirkless. She lied.

"Yamada-sensei…Eraser-sensei please, I'm begging you."

There must be something in her voice that makes Hizashi jump up and exit the room after making her promise to stay put in bed. Shuya listlessly agrees, blank eyes still on the ceiling.

Logically, she's aware this episode is nothing important. Shuya's been stressed for weeks now, operating on barely any sleep while overworking herself to the bone between all her commitments. She's fainted before, in her universe, in similar circumstances to this. Has seen some weird ass shit in sleep paralysis episodes as well.

What she saw was nothing new — likely her brain's gruesome version of the Stain-Ingenium incident from how much the topic has been occupying her mind.

So — so —

It shouldn't disturb her as much as it does.

The long shadows, the dripping blood and the red, red eyes—

Shuya's never claimed to be omniscient, despite all her bravado. She's stuck in a world not her own, even if it's fictional. Actually, it being fictional makes it worse, because she knows for a fact things are going to go to shit here. And she's aware they're gonna have a direct impact on her wellbeing. That's why she's been running around fucking up the plot.

But — but, maybe, some part of her deep down has still been treating all of this as fictional, as some grand big adventure.

Only to be given a harsh wake up call.

These people aren't fictional. This world isn't make-believe. This is all real.

It's so stupid of her, and Shuya wonders why the hell it took her to see blood to finally realize this. She prevented the USJ disaster with the flippant swagger of a Doctor Who wannabe — but this is real. She doesn't get second chances. These are real people whose fate she has in her hands.

Like it or not, she is responsible.

When Eraser stalks inside the infirmary ten minutes later with Nedzu, Recovery Girl and Hizashi, Shuya fixes them with a single, silencing look.

And,

"The Hero Killer Stain is going to attack and kill the Turbo Hero Ingenium in Hosu on the day of the Sports Festival. This is the future that will occur unless there is intervention."

After an alarmed Eraser rushes out of the infirmary and Mic gently coaxes Shuya Kageyama home, Nedzu listens to Recovery Girl sigh about troublesome students.

"Her Quirk Factor looks so weak too, especially for her age." The old heroine mourns, shifting through her papers. "That is bound to have physical impacts on her body."

"Weak?"

"Quirks develop with age and use. Quirk Factors reflect that growth." Recovery Girl tells him. "But Kageyama-chan's Quirk Factor looks incredibly fragile, very underdeveloped. As if she's not used it for a long time."

Nedzu's eyes flash. "…Is that so?"

In that moment there is a seed planted, just a single one.

Whether it blooms beautifully or festers rotten instead is to be seen.

That grim incident aside, Shuya spends the next few days being happily pampered by a frantic Hizashi and a guilty Shouta. The latter reassures her that Ingenium has been informed of the matter.

Nighteye has been contacted to verify the prediction too. The two look a little hesitant telling her that, carefully gauging her reaction the entire time. But Shuya doesn’t mind, truly. She’s aware it’s because a prediction coming from a Gen ED student with a shady background is less trustworthy than All Might’s ex-sidekick. She doesn’t really care to be honest, because the dark-haired girl knows Nighteye’s prediction would be similar, if not the same.

Thinking she might be a little traumatized by the whole experience, Shouta awkwardly offers Shuya permission to not participate in the Sports Festival. It takes Shuya a hot minute to remember her flimsy excuse for using her ‘quirk’ and warning them about Stain.

She pauses for a moment, fiddling with her fingers, then smiles and turns down his offer.

“I think it’ll help keep my mind occupied from…other stuff.”

Like the looming death flag over Ingenium’s head and her possible failure to prevent said death.

Up until now, Shuya’s been going around happily changing other people’s fates. Hitoshi, Izuku, even Shouta and the USJ. But there will always be consequences to playing god, and she’s very aware of the butterfly effect.

She…needs to tone it down a bit.

Even as Shuya resolves to do as such, there is a pit in her stomach.

Thankfully Shouta doesn’t push, though Shuya spies a strange mix of emotions on his face that she can’t decipher. So yeah, she gets pampered for the next few days. It was a good thing she decided to drop dead on a Friday, because it means she gets a two-day break from academics and her classmates’ frantic questioning. She had been informed quite a few of them had seen All Might carrying her bleeding, unconscious self to the infirmary.

The number of unread text messages and calls on her contacts aligns as much.

It kind of makes her feel a little bad.

The first text she shoots is to Hitoshi, reassuring him that she’s alive and no, she’s not lying, he does not need to come over to check—

He comes over.

With, uhh…

“Hitoshi-kun.”

“What.”

Shuya squints at the shoe-sized worm squirming beneath his purple hoodie. “What is that?”

Hitoshi sighs, then slowly unzips the hoodie and out jumps the cutest fucking munchkin cat ever. “This is Mochi. She’s mine.”

“Since when?”

Last Shuya had checked (which was literally three days ago) this kid had been dying to get a cat. No, he did not have one the last thing she’d seen him. But y’know what he did have?

A crappy neighbor that neglected theirs.

She squints at Hitoshi, who suddenly can’t meet her gaze.

"Hitoshi." Her voice is dangerously calm. "Did you steal that cat?"

"I didn't steal—" Hitoshi starts, but Mochi chooses that exact moment to meow pitifully and nuzzle into his chest, and his argument dies on his lips. “Kind of?”

"You stole a cat!" Shuya's voice rises. "You — you kidnapped someone's pet! That's — that's literally theft, Hitoshi! What were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking," Hitoshi shoots back, his voice going defensive as he cradles Mochi protectively, "that this poor cat deserves better than that shitty neighbor who leaves her on the balcony in the rain without food! I was thinking that someone needed to protect the weak!"

Shuya freezes.

Blinks.

And then absolutely loses it.

"PFFT—" She slaps a hand over her mouth, but it's too late. Laughter bursts out of her like a dam breaking. "That's — that's not how it works—!"

"What?!" Hitoshi's face is turning red now, a flush creeping up his neck. "This is — this is part of being a hero, isn't it?! Protecting those who can't protect themselves!"

"You can't just—" Shuya is doubled over now, clutching her stomach. "Steal cats as hero training! That's — oh my god, your face—!"

"It's not stealing if they're being neglected!" Hitoshi insists, but his ears are burning crimson now. "I'm rescuing her!"

"You're a cat burglar!" Shuya wheezes, tears streaming down her face. "In the most literal sense—!"

"Stop laughing!" Hitoshi's entire face is red now, and Mochi meows in confusion at the jostling. "I'm — I'm being serious here!"

But Shuya can't stop. She's gasping for air, clutching her sides, completely losing it.

"That's it." Hitoshi huffs, turning toward the door with as much dignity as he can muster while holding a tiny munchkin cat. "I'm going home. If you can't appreciate the noble art of cat rescue—"

"Noble art—!" Shuya wails, practically crying with laughter now.

"I'm leaving!" Hitoshi announces, stomping toward the door.

"Wait—wait—!" Shuya tries to stop him, but she's laughing too hard to move.

Hitoshi yanks the door open, still holding Mochi—

And freezes.

Standing in the hallway, hand raised as if about to knock, is Aizawa Shouta. Eraserhead. In full underground hero gear, capture weapon draped around his shoulders, looking tired and vaguely annoyed at being disturbed.

For a moment, nobody moves.

Then Hitoshi slams the door shut with enough force to rattle the frame.

He presses his back against it, eyes wide, his face cycling rapidly through shock, awe, and pure terror. Mochi meows indignantly at being jostled again.

"You—" Hitoshi's voice comes out as a strangled whisper. He slowly turns his head to stare at Shuya with an expression of absolute disbelief. "You live with Eraserhead."

Shuya, still wheezing with laughter, can only nod.

Hitoshi gawks at her as if she’s grown two heads. “You live with Eraserhead.”

“I heard you the first time, Hitoshi-kun.”

“You live with—”

There's a knock on the door. Hitoshi jumps like he's been electrocuted.

"Kageyama." Shouta’s muffled voice comes through the door, dry and unimpressed. "Can you ask the fool pressed against your door if he’s going to stay for dinner?"

Hitoshi groans, looking as if he wants the floor to swallow him whole. Shuya dissolves into fresh peals of laughter, sliding down to sit on the floor because her legs won't hold her anymore.

Hitoshi looks between her and the door, his face a fascinating shade of red, still clutching Mochi like a lifeline.

The second person Shuya texts after Hitoshi is one Hatsume Mei.

She puts her phone down immediately afterwards, waits one, two minutes. Then, in exactly three minutes comes Mei’s lighting fast reply.

Of course I’ll give you some of my babies for the Sports Festival!

Shuya smiles wildly.

If she’s going to take part of this stupid competition, might as well go — uh, what do they say? Plus Ultra!

The restriction is that they need to build it themselves, or have it authorized by a teacher ahead of time. Though Shuya only requests a sturdy stick from Mei, Hitoshi’s support items are little more complicated for either of them to build from scratch.

So they take the other path.

“Oh, you don’t need to submit the form for the staff, I don’t think?” Shuya says when Power Loader asks for her papers. When he frowns, she tilts her head questioningly. “I mean it’s just a stick, no?”

The pro-hero looks at her for a long time.

Then he says.

“Kageyama-san.”

Shuya frowns. “Yes?”

Power Loader says very calmly, very deliberately. “It’s Hatsume.”

“So?”

“It’s Hatsume.” He stresses once more, but the intent goes right over her head. When he realizes Shuya simply isn’t getting it, the man sighs. “Just get me the damn form — wait, I’ll get it from her myself. Off you go.”

That odd interaction aside, the next few days up to the Sports Festival pass by uneventfully. Shuya doesn’t have the ‘need’ to activate her quirk again, and for some reason, her regular lessons with 1-A and 1-B are suspended. The official reason she gets is that it’s too much of unfair advantage to the hero students since the lessons are supplementary. But Nedzu has a strange glint in his eyes when he says it, so Shuya still a bit on edge.

It quickly goes flying out the window though, because the moment for one of her favorite BNHA scenes arrives.

Eijiro is not having a good time. Right after the Sports Festival is announced, their class is surrounded with random students crowding the door, all of them glaring at Eijiro and his classmates. Now, he’s all for some manly challenges, but ganging up like this seems a little rude.

This purple-haired dude though, is extra hardcore for some reason, even if his words are manly.

“—consider this a declaration of war.”

The purple-haired teen pauses then, and looks to the side with an annoyed face.

“Is there something you wanna say?”

It’s only then that Eijiro notices that Kageyama, the prophecy-girl, has been standing off to the side watching the entire interaction with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face. At the purple-haired dude’s question, she shakes her head, still grinning wildly.

“Nah, continue.”

To his credit, the dude does not continue. He keeps staring at her, suspicious.

“I’m just trying to imprint this moment in my mind.”

Weird. She’s weird.

Especially when Eijiro notices the popcorn in her hands. He can’t help but ask,

“Where the hell did you even get that?”

And, as Kageyama waves it closer and the mouthwatering aroma of butter and salt hits his nose. Can I have a little?

“Oh I just brought it in an instant packet. Sei-kun was nice enough to heat it up for me!”

Some random dude from the back of the crowd sticks up his hand at Kageyama’s words, and she tosses them a warm smile. “You should try, Hitoshi-kun. They’re heavenly.”

The purple-haired dude — Hitoshi, apparently — levels Kageyama with an incredibly dry look. Then he sighs, the tension broken. “Whatever. Lets go, Mushroom.”

“Aw…but I was waiting for Bakugo’s explosive declaration—”

“—Lets go.”

He drags her away, and the last of Kageyama’s words hit them then. Eijiro looks back to see Bakugo standing there with a furious expression on his face, mouth half open as if he was just about to speak. He slowly clicks it shut.

Then explodes.

“I’M GOING TO BEAT ALL YOU EXTRAS INTO THE GROUND!”

“THERE IT IS! YESSS KACCHAN, YOU GO!”

Kageyama screams from…somewhere, the pair is already at the end of the hall. Eijiro sighs, and immediately moves to block Bakugo from hunting her down. “WHO THE HELL SAID THAT? GET THE FUCK HERE—”

“Calm down, dude. She was joking—”

“I’m gonna explode her face off! That’s a joke too—”

“Jeez, graphic dude.”

Kageyama cackles the entire time.

She makes the mistake of grinning when Hizashi asks her about giving the speech at the Sports Festival. Shouta, who’s sitting right behind him on his desk, narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“No, please let Bakugo-kun do the speech—”

“You’ll do it.”

“What?” Shuya scowls, shooting him a look. “But I don’t want to?”

“I don’t care. You do it.”

“But why?”

At that moment Midnight draws closer, patting Shuya’s back with a knowingly glint in her eyes. “Something tells me, Kageyama-chan, that you know exactly what our dear Bakugo-kun is going to say.”

Shuya flushes, caught, then averts her eyes sheepishly. Only to notice the rest of the teachers, who are levying similar versions of the same knowing look at her, even All Might. She finally scowls, a little annoyed.

“Oh come on, he’s so spicy about it, it’ll be fun—”

She does not get her wish.

Instead, what Shuya does get, is Cementoss over her shoulder proofreading every word of her speech to make sure it’s not inappropriate, strange or vaguely offensive — all as per Shouta’s strict orders. Shuya pouts the entire time.

The day of the festival, no one is more ecstatic that she’s giving the speech than 1-C. And, well, all the student courses who are not in the hero track. So everyone barring forty students, yay!

Walking out of the tunnels into the stadium feels surreal.

The roar of the crowd hits Shuya like a physical wall — thousands upon thousands of voices screaming, cheering, the entire stadium packed to the brim with spectators eager to see Japan's future heroes. The sunlight is blinding after the dim corridors, and for a moment Shuya has to squint against it.

Around her, her classmates from 1-C are buzzing with energy. Literally bouncing on their feet. Nagisa-chan keeps grinning at her with all eight eyes gleaming. Sei-kun gives her an encouraging thumbs up. Even the more jaded students look grudgingly excited.

And Shuya gets it.

U.A. is a hero school first and foremost. The Sports Festival? It's the hero course's time to shine, their chance to show off to the entire world—to scouts, to agencies, to everyone. For the Gen Ed, Support, and Business courses? They're background noise. Extras in someone else's story.

It's even worse for Class 1-C specifically, Shuya knows. Most of them are hero course rejects—kids who now have to watch from the sidelines as others get the spotlight, the training, the chance they desperately wanted.

It's sad, Shuya thinks, watching her classmates' faces light up as they march into the stadium. But understandable.

So to have one of their own giving the opening speech? To have a Gen Ed student front and center for once?

It's insane.

"—AND NOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, GIVE IT UP FOR OUR PLEDGE REPRESENTATIVE—" Present Mic's voice explodes through the speakers, somehow even louder than the crowd. Shuya winces. "—STANDING AT A MIGHTY FIVE FOOT SIX, THE GIRL WHO SCORED HIGHEST ON THE WRITTEN ENTRANCE EXAM—KAGEYAMA SHUYA FROM CLASS 1-C!"

Shuya's eye twitches.

Five foot six.

That isn’t even short! You bitches are just too tall!

She shoots a withering look up toward the announcer's booth, where she can just barely make out Hizashi's silhouette behind the glass. She can't see his face, but she knows he's grinning like an idiot.

I'm making you decaf for a month, you absolute bastard.

The crowd's cheering intensifies, and Shuya feels her stomach drop. Beside her, Hitoshi snorts at her expression, then pats her back once—firm and reassuring.

"Go on, Mushroom. Show them what you've got."

Shuya takes a deep breath.

Then she walks up to the podium.

The microphone stands in the center of the stage, and as Shuya approaches it, she can see everyone. The entire stadium spread out before her in a massive amphitheater. All eyes on her. Cameras broadcasting this to the entire nation.

No pressure.

Her gaze drifts down to the front section where the students are gathered. Class 1-A stands out immediately—Midoriya's green hair, Todoroki's distinctive red and white, Uraraka's cheerful face. And right there in the front—

Bakugo.

He's steaming. Literally. Little wisps of smoke curling from his palms as he glares daggers at her, teeth bared in a snarl. The universal expression of that should be ME up there.

Shuya rolls her eyes.

Dramatic as always, Kacchan.

She reaches into her pocket, pulling out the neatly folded speech Cementoss had made her write. Approved, sanitized, utterly boring. All about sportsmanship and doing your best and blah blah blah.

She unfolds it.

Looks down at the careful words.

And then — her gaze flicks up. Catches Hitoshi's eyes in the crowd.

He's watching her. Waiting. And there's something in his expression—a challenge, maybe. She never knows with him. Something between them had changed after she’d introduced him to Shouta for training.

Something like trust.

It’s a strange feeling.

Don't hold back, his eyes seem to say. Be yourself.

Shuya grins.

Fuck it.

She crumples the paper in her fist and tosses it over her shoulder.

Then she leans into the microphone, her grey eyes glittering with mischief, and her smile sharpens into something wild and fierce.

"Don't look down on those around you," Shuya says, her voice carrying clear across the stadium. "You might get surprised how hard they bite."

The Gen Ed section erupts.

"Everyone." She spreads her arms wide, encompassing all of them—Hero course, Support course, Business course, Gen Ed. Everyone. "Let's do our best, yeah? We're all in this together."

The sound that follows is deafening.

The Support Course students are on their feet, screaming. Business Course is whistling and cheering. And Gen Ed — Gen Ed goes absolutely feral. Nagisa is crying. Sei-kun is pumping his fist in the air. Even the jaded kids are grinning.

The hero course looks vaguely bemused at the reaction from the others. Midoriya's smiling that sunshine smile. Kirishima looks just as pumped as the rest, grinning wildly. Bakugo, of course, looks like he wants to explode something.

And Hitoshi—

Hitoshi is grinning right back at her, wide and genuine and proud.

Shuya steps down from the podium, her heart pounding, adrenaline singing through her veins.

Yeah. Worth it.

Midnight takes the stage next, her whip cracking as she introduces the first game. Shuya zones out a bit—she already knows what's coming. The obstacle course. Four kilometers of absolute chaos, specifically designed to test students' quirks and abilities under pressure.

Fun.

"—and with that, let the first game BEGIN!"

Everyone lines up at the entrance to the tunnel. Shuya can feel the tension in the air, students practically vibrating with anticipation. She catches Hitoshi's sleeve and tugs him backward, away from the mass of bodies crowding the entrance.

"Mushroom, what—"

"Trust me," Shuya mutters, eyes scanning the crowd. "Just hang back."

Hitoshi gives her a skeptical look but doesn't argue.

The starting buzzer screams.

Immediately, the entire mass of students surges forward into the tunnel. It's chaos—bodies pressed together, students shoving and shouting, everyone trying to get ahead. Within seconds, the entrance becomes a bottleneck, dozens of students crammed into a space meant for maybe ten.

"Now?" Hitoshi asks dryly.

"Not yet." Shuya's eyes are locked on the front of the pack. "Where's Todoroki?"

Hitoshi cranes his neck, using his height advantage. "Front left. He's — oh, he's breaking through."

Shuya sees it too. Todoroki's ice spreading across the ground, freezing the tunnel floor. In seconds he'll—

"JUMP!"

Shuya and Hitoshi both leap just as Todoroki's ice explodes outward, freezing the legs of everyone still stuck in the bottleneck. Students cry out in shock and frustration, trapped mid-step.

They land hard on the frozen ground. Shuya's boots — special commission from Mei, reinforced with steel and designed specifically for ice traction—grip perfectly. Beside her, Hitoshi's matching pair does the same.

They exchange wild grins.

Then they run.

In front of them, Class 1-A has already broken free, most of them not caught at all—Bakugo blasting himself forward, Yaoyorozu and Kirishima and the others right on his heels. But Shuya and Hitoshi have a head start now, just behind the hero course leaders.

These boots, Shuya thinks gleefully as she runs, feeling the way the steel-reinforced soles grip the ice, are a fucking MIRACLE.

Mei had been ecstatic when Shuya asked for them—something about “testing grip coefficients on frozen surfaces" and "impact resistance in steel-toe construction." Whatever. The point is they work.

The best part is that they don’t count as support gear, since you can just buy them off the internet.

If Mei hears that, she’s gonna have Shuya’s head haha.

Overhead, they can hear Present Mic and Eraserhead’s color commentary. Shouta’s spouting some real Proud-Dad shit about 1-A despite the drab and dry tone.

“—They’ve used that fear to drown out that hesitation.”

Hizashi’s voice pipes in then, uncharacteristically calm despite the commentary.

“That’s all well and good, Eraser, but what uh… about them?”

“Who?”

Shuya throws her head back and laughs manically as she and Shinsou go AROUND the fucking robots instead of trying to fight them head on. Lord knows there’s enough idiots fighting them for the robots’ sensors to not pick them up.

They make it past the first obstacle — the zero-pointers from the entrance exam, massive robots that Shuya pointedly does not engage with because she values her life, thank you very much — and skid to a stop at the second obstacle.

The rope field.

It's exactly as horrifying as Shuya remembers from the anime. Massive pillars with ropes strung between them, suspended high above a canyon. No safety nets. Just a very, very long drop.

Shuya stares at it.

Then she stares at her noodle arms.

Yeah, no.

"Alright," she says, dusting off her hands. "I think this is far enough, don't you? I mean, I made it past the first obstacle. That's pretty good for a Gen Ed student. Eraser can't possibly be disappointed—"

"Mushroom."

Something in Hitoshi's tone makes her pause.

She looks up. He's giving her that look—the one that says I can see right through your bullshit.

"You're seriously going to quit now?" The purple-haired boy crosses his arms. "After that speech? After riling up the entire non-hero course population? After dragging me this far?"

"I don't have arm strength, Hitoshi-kun," Shuya protests. "Have you seen my noodle arms? How can you subject me to this?"

"You finished what you started at lunch with Midoriya." Hitoshi's voice is calm but firm. "You finished what you started with Eraserhead. You finished what you started with 1-A's training."

"That's different—"

"Is it?" Hitoshi raises an eyebrow. "Or are you just scared?"

Low blow, cat boy.

Shuya scowls at him. Hitoshi just stares back, unimpressed.

"The farther you get," He says quietly, "The more you can help me succeed. Isn't that what you said?"

Damn it.

He's right. He's right and Shuya hates it.

The goal was always to get him into 1-A before shit hit the fan.

"Fine," she grumbles. "But I still don't know how we're supposed to get across without upper body strength or a quirk—"

"BEHOLD!!"

The shout comes from directly above them.

Shuya looks up just in time to see Hatsume Mei flying overhead on her jetpack—yes, her actual jetpack, because of course she has one—pink hair streaming behind her, goggles gleaming in the sunlight.

She looks magnificent.

She also looks like she's about to crash.

"MY BABIES ARE GOING TO BE LEGENDARY!!" Mei screams as she zooms past. Then, almost as an afterthought, she twists mid-air and hurls something at Shuya's face.

It hits her in the face, knocking her over into Hitoshi’s arms.

“What the fuck, Mei—”

"FORGOT TO GIVE YOU THAT!" Mei's voice is already fading as she disappears across the rope field. "YOU'RE WELCOME!"

Hitoshi helps her back up, then picks up the sheets of paper, frowning. “It's... a manual?”

Shuya squints at it, still rubbing her nose.

Why would my staff need a manual?

She glances back at the weapon strapped to her back — the simple, sturdy staff Mei had built for her. It's just a staff. A stick. A really well-made stick, sure, but still—

Wait.

Oh no.

Shuya flips open the manual with trembling hands. Her eyes scan the first page.

KAGEYAMA CUSTOM COMBAT STAFF: USER MANUAL

WARNING: EXTREME VELOCITY. USE WITH CAUTION.

Voice Commands:

• "Rocket"

• "Boost"

• "MAXIMUM THRUST"

Oh no.

"Mushroom?" Hitoshi is looking at her with growing concern. "What's—"

"She didn't," Shuya whispers.

"Didn't what?"

"She wouldn't."

"Wouldn't what?"

Shuya looks up at Hitoshi with wide, slightly manic eyes. "Hitoshi-kun. Do you trust me?"

"Not when you make that face—"

"Great!" Shuya drops the manual and grabs her staff, pulling it off her back. "Because I think Mei turned my staff into a rocket."

"She what—"

Shuya doesn't mean to activate it. She really doesn't.

But apparently her staff has very sensitive voice activation because the moment the word "rocket" leaves her mouth, the staff lights up.

There's a sound like a jet engine powering on.

"Oh fuck—" Shuya barely has time to grab Hitoshi's arm. "HOLD ON!"

"WHAT ARE YOU—"

"MAXIMUM THRUST!" Shuya screams.

The staff launches.

And Shuya, still gripping it with both hands, goes with it.

She manages to yank Hitoshi along at the last second — his hand locked around her wrist in a death grip as they're both suddenly airborne, the staff pulling them forward like a missile, rocketing over the rope field at speeds that are definitely not U.A. approved for student use.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!" Shuya's scream is lost in the wind.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MUSHROOM!!" Hitoshi is also screaming, his other hand scrabbling for purchase on Shuya's shoulder.

They're flying. Well, more like being dragged through the air by a rocket-powered staff, but semantics. Below them, students on the ropes stare up in shock as they blur past.

The staff shows no signs of slowing down.

In fact, it might be going faster.

"HOW DO YOU TURN IT OFF?!" Hitoshi yells over the roar of the propulsion.

"I DON'T KNOW! I DROPPED THE MANUAL!!"

"YOU WHAT—"

They clear the rope field in approximately thirty seconds.

The problem is the staff doesn't stop.

They go sailing over the landing platform, over several more obstacles, still screaming, Shuya's grip on the staff slipping, Hitoshi's fingers digging into her arm—

And then, mercifully, finally, the propulsion cuts out.

They drop.

"OOOOF—"

They hit the ground hard, tumbling across dirt and grass in a tangle of limbs. Thankfully, they’d been close enough to the ground that it’s not that high of a drop. The staff skitters away, finally dormant. For a long moment, Shuya just lies there, staring up at the sky, her ears ringing, her whole body vibrating from the rocket propulsion.

Beside her, Hitoshi groans.

"I hate you so much right now."

"That's fair," Shuya wheezes.

In the announcer's booth, Present Mic's voice explodes over the speakers:

"DID YOU SEE THAT?! KAGEYAMA AND SHINSO JUST FLEW OVER HALF THE OBSTACLE COURSE!! THAT'S GOTTA BE SOME KIND OF RECORD!!"

Shuya closes her eyes.

I'm going to kill Hatsume.

No.

I'm going to KISS Hatsume.

Actually—

Both. Definitely both.

Shuya finally gets up.

Every muscle in her body is screaming. Her arms feel like jelly. There's dirt in places dirt should never be. And she's pretty sure she's going to have bruises on her bruises.

But they're—

She looks around.

Oh no.

Oh no.

They're in the middle of the minefield.

Pink markers dot the ground as far as the eye can see, barely visible beneath the dirt. The final obstacle. The one designed to punish anyone who wasn't paying attention, anyone who got too cocky, anyone who—

"KAGEYAMA-SAN!"

Shuya's head snaps up.

Izuku is there — of course he is — green hair disheveled, gym outfit torn, looking worried despite the fact that he's in the middle of a competition. Because that's just who he is. The kind of person who stops to check on others even when he should be focused on winning.

"Are you okay?!" He calls out, waving frantically. "Shinso-kun! Do you need help?!"

Shuya blinks at him, still dazed from the crash landing, trying to get her bearings. Then her eyes focus past him, and—

Wait.

What the hell is he—

Izuku is crouched down, carefully dragging something across the ground. A massive piece of broken metal — part of a zero-pointer from the first obstacle, twisted and scorched. And he's using it to push mines together. Gathering them. Collecting them into one spot.

No green lightning crackling around his limbs. No enhanced speed or strength. Just pure strategy and observation and what the actual fuck is he planning—

Oh no.

Oh no no no no—

"Why—" Shuya's voice comes out as a strangled wheeze. "Why the fuck are you doing this quirkless?!"

Internally, she's screaming.

She trained him! She spent weeks plotting how to secretly help him get a better handle on One For All without shattering every bone in his body! And he did! She watched him improve, watched him learn control, watched him become confident in using it—

And he's not using it. He's saving it. For this. He’s pulling the same shit he did in the fucking anime! For whatever insane plan is currently forming in that self-sacrificing, brilliant, idiotic brain of his—

That absolute MANIAC—

"Kageyama-san, I'm fine!" Midoriya calls back, giving her a thumbs up while still pushing another mine into the pile with the metal sheet. "Just a few more—"

"NO!" Shuya lurches to her feet, ignoring the way her legs scream in protest. "HITOSHI, MOVE—"

She grabs his arm and yanks him forward with strength she didn't know she had.

"Mushroom — ow — what the hell—" Hitoshi stumbles, nearly face-planting as she drags him along. "I think I have bruises on my soul, can you please—"

"MOVE MOVE MOVE—" Shuya doesn't let go, practically hauling him across the minefield, her eyes scanning the ground frantically for the pink markers even as she keeps glancing back at Midoriya.

"Why are you—" Hitoshi blinks at her, still dazed and befuddled, trying to keep up with her manic pace. "Mushroom, what's going on—"

"That idiot," Shuya hisses, navigating around a mine, then another, her grip on Hitoshi's arm like iron. "That absolute fucking idiot is going to—"

She can't even finish the sentence.

Just keeps moving, dragging Hitoshi with her, muttering a constant stream of curses under her breath.

"—stupid self-sacrificing gremlin—"

"Mushroom, you're not making any sense—" Hitoshi tries, but Shuya just tightens her grip and pulls harder.

"Faster!"

"I'm going, Jesus — ow — that's my bad arm—"

They make it maybe ten meters. Maybe fifteen. Shuya's lungs are burning, her legs are shaking, but she doesn't stop until they're far enough away that the blast radius won't—

She risks a glance back.

Midoriya is standing now. The pile of mines is massive—he must have gathered at least a dozen of them in one spot. And he's just standing there, that piece of zero-pointer metal clutched in his hands, staring down at his handiwork.

Then, as if sensing her gaze, he looks up.

Their eyes lock.

Green meets grey.

And Shuya knows. She knows that look. She's seen it in the anime, in the manga, in every single reckless, self-sacrificing moment that makes Midoriya Izuku who he is.

The look that says I have a plan and I'm going to see it through no matter what.

"Midoriya Izuku," Shuya warns, her voice somehow carrying across the distance despite being barely above a whisper. "Don't you fucking dare."

For a moment, he hesitates.

Then that bastard has the audacity to smile at her. That bright, winning, absolutely infuriating smile that's going to get him killed one of these days—

And he jumps.

"MIDORIYA IZUKU, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF—"

But it's too late.

The green-haired maniac leaps directly onto the pile of mines, the metal sheet held beneath him like a makeshift shield—

The explosion that follows is biblical.

A massive BOOM that shakes the entire stadium, a plume of smoke and fire erupting into the sky like a goddamn volcano. The force of it sends shockwaves rippling through the air, and Shuya has to throw her arm up to shield her face from the heat and debris.

And in the middle of it all, silhouetted against the flames like some kind of deranged action hero—

Midoriya Izuku goes flying.

Not just flying. Soaring. Rocketing through the air on a piece of metal from his armor, using the explosion's force to propel himself forward at speeds that should not be humanly possible without a quirk.

He goes sailing over everyone's heads — over the students still carefully navigating the minefield, over the robots, over everything—heading straight toward the front of the pack where Todoroki and Bakugo are locked in their own intense battle for first place.

There's a moment of stunned silence.

Then—

"Holy shit," Hitoshi breathes beside her.

Shuya turns to look at him. He's staring up at Midoriya's rapidly disappearing form with an expression of pure disbelief.

"That kid is insane," Hitoshi says, almost reverently. Then he shakes his head. "Damn, bro. He crazy."

"That's what I've been saying!" Shuya wails, throwing her free hand up in exasperation. "The little gremlin — I trained him to use his quirk properly and he goes and does this—!"

She's not sure whether to be proud or horrified.

Probably both.

Definitely both.

"Can we maybe focus on not dying?" Hitoshi suggests dryly, wincing as another distant explosion echoes across the field. "Because I'd really like to make it through this in one piece."

"Right. Yes. Good idea."

Shuya takes a deep breath and refocuses.

They navigate through the minefield together, moving slowly, carefully. Shuya's eyes scan the ground constantly, looking for the telltale markers, the slight depressions in the dirt that signal danger. Beside her, Hitoshi mirrors her movements, his purple eyes sharp despite his exhaustion.

It's agonizing.

Every step feels like it takes forever. Around them, other students are doing the same — some moving faster, some slower. A few trigger mines and get launched backward with startled yelps. The crowd is roaring, Present Mic's commentary a constant stream of noise that Shuya can barely process through her exhaustion.

"Almost there," Hitoshi mutters. "Just a little more—"

Another explosion erupts somewhere behind them. Shuya doesn't look back.

Just keeps moving.

Step by careful step.

Until finally—finally—they cross the threshold.

The minefield ends. Solid ground stretches out before them, and beyond that, the glorious sight of the finish line. Shuya almost wants to cry. She hates Eraserhead, damn it.

They made it.

They actually made it.

Shuya takes one more step forward.

And then her legs give out.

She collapses onto the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, face-first into the dirt. Every muscle in her body is on fire. Her lungs are burning. She's pretty sure she's going to die.

Worth it, she thinks deliriously. Actually no. Not worth it. Who the hell made this shitty track?

Beside her, Hitoshi drops down too, though with slightly more grace. He sits heavily, breathing hard, purple hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

"We did it," He pants.

"Mmph," Shuya says into the ground.

"Mushroom?"

"M' fine," she mumbles, not moving. "Jus'...gonna lie here...forever."

"You can't lie there forever. There are still people coming through. They'll trample you."

"Watch me."

Hitoshi sighs. Then — to her complete shock — he reaches over and pats her head. Just once, brief and awkward, like he's not quite sure what to do but wants to offer some kind of comfort.

"You did good," He says quietly.

Shuya feels something warm bloom in her chest.

She turns her head just enough to look at him, dirt smeared across her cheek, hair a complete disaster.

"You too, cat boy."

He rolls his eyes, but there's a small smile tugging at his lips.

They sit there for a moment, catching their breath, watching as more students pour through the finish line. Some are celebrating, pumping their fists in the air. Others look as exhausted as Shuya feels.

And somewhere in the distance, she can hear Present Mic announcing the final placements.

"AND THERE YOU HAVE IT, FOLKS! OUR TOP FINISHERS—MIDORIYA IZUKU IN AN ABSOLUTELY STUNNING UPSET, FOLLOWED BY TODOROKI SHOUTO AND BAKUGO KATSUKI! BUT LET'S HEAR IT FOR ALL OUR COMPETITORS WHO MADE IT THROUGH—INCLUDING OUR FAVORITE GEN ED DUO, KAGEYAMA AND SHINSOU, WHO FLEW—YES, LITERALLY FLEW—THROUGH MOST OF THE COURSE!"

Totally not biased commentary at all. 

Shuya groans.

She's never going to live this down.

Never ever.

But as she lies there on the ground, Hitoshi beside her, the roar of the crowd washing over them—

She can't help but smile.

Phase 3: Dominate the Sports Festival. Partially Complete