Chapter Text
It is a normal day, as long as I ignore the fact that it isn’t.
Class 1-A. Wow, this door is huge. Okay, here goes nothing.
Pushing open the immense door, I step into the classroom. The room buzzes with energy as students search for their assigned seats and engage in conversations, some already making friends. My furry bat ears twitch involuntarily, though I’m not sure if it’s because of the noise or my nerves…
I find my assigned seat in the middle of the room and sit down. My wings fold out awkwardly behind me, draping over the back of the chair.
I take a look at my new classmates; I notice a girl with black hair tied in a high ponytail—wow she’s stunning. A few seats behind me I see… another winged student? No, he has the head of a bird but no wings. My focus shifts to another student—an inhumanly gorgeous guy—with hair a striking duality of red and white. He kinda looks like a christmas decoration with his candy cane colored-hair, the–
“DON’T PUT YOUR FEET ON THE DESK.”
“I’LL DO WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT!”
Jesus. My bat ears flatten instinctively against my head at the loud outburst. At the table to my left, a student with sandy blond hair seems to be picking a fight with another guy, this one tall with glasses.
It is way too early for this kind of drama. I tune out their continued exchange, my attention only snapping back when the door opens again, and all the students go quiet.
An older man with a dark, disheveled look enters the room. His eyes are half-lidded and his posture is slack, but there's something about him that makes everyone sit a little straighter.
“Alright, you brats. My name is Shota Aizawa and I’m your homeroom teacher. You’re going to change into your gym clothes, and we’ll meet outside for your first test,” he says, voice monotone and direct.
The class falls silent. Gym clothes? A test already? What about orientation?
Outside, we line up on the track, shifting nervously. Aizawa gives us a brief overview of this ‘quirk assessement test’—basically, a series of physical challenges to assess how well we can use our quirks in practical situations. The real kicker? The student with the worst results will be expelled.
I’ve heard Aizawa-sensei expelled an entire class last year because they were ‘unfit’. The man is not joking.
“Bakugo,” Aizawa calls, and the sandy-blond guy snaps his head up in attention. I recognize him from earlier; he was the one arguing with another student.
“You placed first in the practical exam. How far can you throw a softball without using your quirk? What was your result in your high school physical assessment?” Aizawa asks.
“67 meters.”
“Try throwing it with your quirk. Anything goes as long as you stay in the circle,” instructs our homeroom teacher as Bakugo takes the softball and steps inside the white chalk-outlined circle.
Bakugo’s hand ignites in a burst of fiery explosions as he hurls the ball. The blast is deafening, and the bright flash leaves me momentarily blinded. My bat ears flatten against my head, blocking out the overwhelming noise.
Smoke and dust fill the air, and as it clears, Aizawa turns his distance-reader to us: 705.2 meters. Gasps erupt from my fellow classmates, that is an obscenely high number.
I can’t help but feel a little excited. This is going to be one hell of a competition.
Most of the exercises are easy, even when my quirk can’t help me out. Repeated side steps, situps, grip strength, seated toe-touch—they’re all a part of my training regimen.
My wings allow me to rank second for the 50-meter dash and first for the standing long jump, thanks to my fast flying speed and the lack of need to touch the ground.
The softball throw test is especially interesting, not because I have a particularly good or bad result, no, my score is nothing special.
It’s because this test reveals interesting quirks; First spot goes to a doe-eyed brunette that throws the ball so far it disappears into the clouds, the distance-reader reads fucking infinity.
She sheepishly explains that her quirk, Zero-Gravity, allows her to make objects that she touches completely weightless, which is how she scored infinity.
After her, a green-haired boy steps up to throw the softball. His throw lands… not that far, disappointingly close actually.
Aizawa steps forward, he reveals his hero alias ‘Eraserhead’ to the class, and explains he erased the green-haired boy’s quirk.
As he takes the boy aside for a seemingly intense conversation, the brunette girl muses, “I wonder why Aizawa-sensei erased his quirk.”
“Quirk? That damn nerd doesn’t have a quirk,” Bakugo scoffs.
Is he saying the guy is quirkless?
“That doesn’t make sense,” I interject, turning to face him. “Aizawa said he erased his quirk. And how would he have got into the hero course if he’s quirkless?”
“Fuck if I know,” he scowls with a shrug.
“He definitely has a quirk. During the entrance exam, he took down a huge robot with a single punch!” the girl insists.
Bakugo and her have very different stories, I wonder who’s right.
The green-haired boy walks into the chalked circle again—it seems he gets a second try.
The class doesn’t seem too convinced he’ll do better, after all, he hasn’t used his quirk in any of the tests yet. He throws the ball, and-
Boom.
The sound barrier shatters. The distance reader flashes: 705.3 meters, surpassing even Bakugo’s results.
Who, to put it mildly, is not into sportsmanship—before anyone can blink, he’s lunging at the green-haired boy. “DEKU YOU BASTARD!” he yells, shouting some incoherent words about a hidden quirk.
Aizawa intervenes; he restrains Bakugo with his scarf-weapon and lectures both students before ushering the class to move on to the last tests. As students start heading to the running track for the next evaluation, I look back at Bakugo.
His shoulders are tense, and his fists are clenched so tightly that his knuckles are white. His whole body seems to vibrate with barely restrained rage. He is seething, anger issues much? What’s the deal between him and green-hair anyway?
Once the assessment is over, the class gathers around Aizawa as he projects a scoreboard with the final rankings.
1st place: Momo Yaoyorozu
The elegant girl with a ponytail.
2nd place: Shoto Todoroki
The handsome Christmas decoration, aka Candy Cane.
3rd place: Katsuki Bakugo
Anger Issues.
4th place: Tenya Iida
Iida, wait I know that last name, he’s from the Ingenium Hero family.
5th place: Fumikage Tokoyami
The birdhead. Though I don’t think his poultry resemblance is his quirk, I saw him control a shadow during the grip strength test…
6th place, I see my own name. My training really paid off, especially given that I don’t have a flashy quirk like the top ranked.
I quickly glimpse at the other names, though I can barely tell which name goes with which face; the brunette girl who got infinity at the softball throw squeals that she ranked 10th, which means her name is Ochako Uraraka.
I don’t recognize the last name ‘20th place: Izuku Midoriya’.
I glance at the green-haired boy, is it him?
He looks like he’s about to cry. Or puke. Maybe both.
Yeah, it’s him. I kinda feel bad for him, being expelled on the first day of school? That’s brutal.
“By the way, I was lying about the expulsion,” Aizawa announces simply. “It was a rational deception to push you to use your quirks to their fullest extent,” he explains with a sadistic smile.
What the fuck?
Silence hangs in the air, it’s broken by several stunned mutters from the students. Yaoyorozu—the girl who ranked first place—chides, “Of course it was a lie, it should’ve been obvious if you just thought it through.”
But she’s wrong. Aizawa once expelled an entire class because he didn’t deem them good enough to become heroes. Nothing stops him from expelling whoever he wants. Something tells me Aizawa wasn’t kidding this time either. So why did he change his mind?
Midoriya was doomed to end last, and he and Aizawa shared an intense discussion earlier. …Sensei must have changed his mind because he sees potential in Midoriya. Well, isn’t that interesting!
As I head back to class after the quirk assessment, I’m mentally rehashing every test. Sixth place isn’t bad, but it’s not a spot I want to get too comfortable in either.
I’m just a few hallways away from my classroom when I hear a cheerful, energetic voice call out from behind me.
“Rika!”
I turn, surprised that anyone here already knows my name, let alone my first name. A girl with pink skin and curly, bubblegum-colored hair bounces up to me. She’s grinning wide, like we’re old friends, which is... strange, given I have no idea who she is.
“Rika, right?” she asks, though she doesn’t seem like she’s double-checking—she’s sure it’s me. Wait, I recognize her, she’s in my class.
I nod, “Yeah, that’s me. And you are… ?”
“Mina! Mina Ashido! You were amazing out there. Like, that 50-meter dash? You were right behind Iida, and he’s got engines for legs! You landed sixth place, didn’t you? That’s pretty epic for day one. I placed ninth, by the way.”
“Ninth, huh? Not bad. What’s your quirk?” I ask, glancing at her unique features: pink skin tone, pink hair, yellow horns that look like small antlers, and yellow eyes—or rather yellow irises with black sclerae.
“Acid! I can produce and control it. Mostly for offense, but I can do all kinds of cool stuff, like, slide on it, which is super fun… if I don’t, you know, eat the dirt.”
“Acid skating? Interesting strategy.” I smile. “Footwear must be expensive though.”
“Don’t even get me started. I’ve already ruined three pairs this month,” she groans with an exaggerated sigh.
I can’t help but chuckle at her dramatics, and she perks up even more at my reaction. She’s definitely got infectious enthusiasm.
“You know, I thought Aizawa was totally gonna toss someone out during that assessment. He’s terrifying, right? I’m convinced he’s some kind of stealthy ninja cat in a human body.” She leans closer, as if sharing a secret. “I swear, I’ve caught him napping twice already. And I think he was actually asleep with his eyes open this morning.”
I snort at her description of Aizawa, “You’re sure he’s not just conserving energy for the next time he decides to scare the crap out of us?”
Mina gasps, clapping her hands together as if I’ve just cracked some unsolvable mystery. “That totally makes sense! He’s waiting to pounce. It’s all part of his plan.”
She grins at me like we’re co-conspirators now. “I knew we were gonna get along. Let’s walk to class together. C’mon!”
We fall into step, and Mina chatters on. We reach the classroom and I head for my desk. Chairs with backrests have never been my favorite—they aren’t comfortable for my wings—so I take advantage of the informal occasion and sit on the desk instead.
Mina plops down in the seat at the table to my right, spinning it around to face me. I raise an eyebrow, pretty sure this isn’t her assigned spot. Before I can say anything, a blond guy strolls up, looking confused.
“Uh, hey, Mina,” he starts, scratching the back of his head. “Not to be rude or anything, but that’s... kind of my seat.”
Mina waves him off without missing a beat. “Relax, Denki. I’m just borrowing it for a sec. We’re having an important bonding moment here.”
The guy blinks, then grins, leaning against his table. “Oh, really? And what’s this ‘important bonding moment’ about?”
Mina gestures toward me. “This is Rika! She’s super cool and we’re totally gonna be besties. Obviously, I have to sit here to make that happen.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. “Yeah, because friendships can’t happen from the next seat over.”
“Exactly!” Mina answers, completely unfazed.
“Well, I guess if it’s for something that important, I can lend you my seat for a bit.” He flashes me a grin. “I’m Denki Kaminari, by the way. Nice to meet you, Rika… uh, I didn’t catch your full name. What should I call you?”
“Just Rika’s fine,” I say, leaning back slightly and crossing my arms. “I’m not big on the whole family name thing.”
He tilts his head, looking curious but not prying. “Oh, got it. Rika it is, then! You can call me Denki if you want. First-name basis, it’s only fair.”
Mina gasps dramatically, slapping her hands on the desk. “Denki, you never said I could call you by your first name!”
“You do it anyway!” he shoots back.
This class is shaping up to be a lot more chaotic—and maybe a little more fun—than I expected. If the rest of my time at U.A. is going to be anything like this, then I think I’m in pretty good company.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Mathematics follow me no matter how far I run.
That is the dreadful realization I make during my second day at UA. Indeed, the curriculum states we have required lessons—such as maths—in the morning, and hero class in the afternoon.
It makes sense, UA is, after all, a school. But god dammit, I wish algebra was avoidable.
The bell rings, jolting me from my futile attempt to comprehend whatever nightmare equation is still scrawled across the board. I barely refrain from collapsing onto my desk as my wings droop in defeat.
“Ugh, numbers are evil,” Mina groans from a desk over.
I nod in solidarity, but the voice of dissent quickly rises from a few rows behind.
“Mathematics is essential for hero work!” Iida lectures, sitting ramrod straight as he adjusts his glasses with a swift, deliberate motion. “Calculating trajectories, understanding structural integrity, even developing effective strategies—all rely on a solid foundation in math!”
“Yeah, well, no one’s going to care about my quadratic equations when I’m punching villains.” Denki deadpans.
“That mindset will only limit your potential!” Iida retorts, chopping the air with a hand for emphasis. “Proper education is crucial!”
Mina makes a dramatic gagging sound. “Ease up, Mr. Study Guide. We’re heroes in training, not rocket scientists.”
Iida gasps, looking genuinely appalled. “Heroes must be prepared for any scenario! What if you had to defuse a bomb—”
“Is that even on the syllabus?” I cut in, raising an eyebrow.
Iida opens his mouth, but the conversation is cut short as Bakugo—grumbling and visibly irritated—whirls around in his seat with a murderous glare aimed in our direction.
“Will you extras shut up already?!” he snaps, “Your yapping is annoying as hell.”
‘Extras’? Wow, the ego on this one.
“Sure, we’ll keep the background chatter down.” I shoot back, tilting my head with mock innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of stealing your spotlight, oh main character.” His eye twitches; somehow, he makes being annoyed look like a full-time job.
Suddenly, the door slams open with a force that nearly shakes the walls.
“I AM HERE—COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A NORMAL PERSON.”
My jaw audibly drops. All Might—the All Might, the Number 1 Hero of Japan, the Symbol of Peace himself—has just walked into our classroom.
The sheer energy in the room shifts instantly. We all sit up straighter, wide-eyed, as he stands there, towering over us with a smile so bright it could light up a city. The entire class, including me, stares in awe at him. I mean, shit, most of us have only seen him on television. This is… wild to say the least.
“Wow, it’s All Might!” multiple students clamor.
“He really did become a teacher!” someone exclaims, voicing my own thoughts.
All Might strikes a heroic pose, hands on his hips, “Welcome to the most important class at UA High! Think of it as Hero-ing 101,” he announces, “This is where you’ll train in different ways to learn the basics of being a hero.”
His presence is magnetic as he continues, the entire class hanging on every word. “Today, we’ll be doing some combat training!”
All Might then gestures to shelved drawers on the wall, and at the click of a remote, all the drawers open, revealing neatly numbered cases. He explains that inside the cases, are our prototype Hero Costumes based on the designs we submitted.
“After you change, gather in Ground Beta!”
2 words: absolutely, badass.
My hero costume turned out amazing, it’s everything I imagined, and then some.
The base of my costume is a sleek, form-fitting black bodysuit with perfectly placed slits in the back for my wings. It’s more skintight than I’d pictured, but the support course added Kevlar pads to my knees and elbows, providing extra protection.
A utility belt sits snugly around my waist, holding multiple smoke bombs and flash grenades. The idea is simple: disorient my enemies with a cloud of smoke or a blinding burst of light, then use my echolocation to pick them off while their vision is hindered.
And, the best thing about my costume is that it has hidden pockets. Many, many pockets. They’re sewn discreetly into the suit, in places that aren't immediately visible; on my forearms, along the side of my thighs, around my waist… They’re small, but perfectly positioned for quick access. Inside, I store a few essentials—like restraints and small shurikens to use as projectiles.
The shurikens come in a wide variety of materials: iron, silver, steel, glass, and even a couple made out of gold. Because you never know when you might face off against someone with an iron manipulation quirk or with a vulnerability to silver.
The reason my costume is packed with so many gadgets is that my quirk isn't offense-based. My bat quirk gives me incredible sensory abilities and agility, but in a direct fight, I have to rely on hand-to-hand combat. If I face a powerful quirk, I need these tools to hold my own. The smoke bombs help me create cover and shield an area in darkness, the flash grenades blind opponents, and the few surprise gadgets I carry are meant to disable opponents if necessary.
I can already picture myself in action, darting around the battlefield, using the full range of my abilities and gadgets. This suit is my perfect weapon, and I’m ready to use it.
As I arrive at Ground Beta, the designated training area, I scan the assembled group of my classmates: it’s a kaleidoscope of colors and designs, each outfit reflecting its wearer’s quirk and personality. It’s like a fashion show gone wild.
I spot Mina as she beelines my way, her costume is a purple and turquoise bodysuit with a camouflage pattern that’s more party than stealth. Over it, she wears a tan waistcoat with white fur along its collar.
“Whoa, Rika! Your suit is awesome!” Mina exclaims as she gives me a double thumbs-up.
“Thanks. You’re rocking that look too, very battle chic.”
She beams, striking a mock pose. “Oh, you know, I try.”
As we talk, I let my gaze wander across the group, taking in the variety of hero costumes.
Yaoyorozu stands out; her costume is hard to miss—it's an extremely revealing outfit. She must have some serious confidence in the fabric to wear that in battle. Or maybe she’s just counting on the villains being too distracted to fight back.
Iida is impossible to overlook in his armored suit, which looks like something straight out of a high-tech action movie. I half-expect him to start transforming into a sports car any second now.
Then there’s Todoroki—or as I’ve mentally dubbed him, Candy Cane. He apparently decided that wearing actual ice was a good idea. Half of his body is encased in it. How he’s not shivering in that outfit is beyond me.
Anger Issues catches my eye. His costume fits his explosive personality perfectly. It's a black and orange ensemble with bulky grenade-shaped gauntlets that look like they could blow a hole in a building. He radiates menace.
“Sensei! This is a battle center from the entrance exam, so will we be conducting urban battles again?” Iida asks.
So this is where they did the entrance exam? I wonder what it was like. I got in thanks to Nezu’s recommendation letter, so I missed it. The simulated cityscape, with its towering buildings and intricate layout, seems like the perfect place for hero training.
“Not quite,” All Might corrects before proceeding to explain today’s hero class.
The class will be divided into pairs, each pair pitted against another. One pair will assume the role of heroes tasked with locating and retrieving a weapon from the opposing villains. Meanwhile, the other duo will play the villains, defending the weapon and thwarting the heroes' attempts to seize it. Victory for the hero team means either touching the weapon or capturing the villains within the time limit. Conversely, the villain team aims to prevent the heroes from accessing the weapon within the time limit to secure their own win.
“Teams and opponents will be determined by drawing lots! Now, let’s draw!” All Might announces.
I cross my fingers, mentally hoping to be paired with a strong student who knows what they are doing.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
“Team D : Katsuki Bakugo and Rika Moriyama!” All Might’s booming announcement echoes through the training area.
Shit. I’m going to end up a crispy bat.
Mina shakes my arm, her eyes wide, “Girl, you’re with the explosion maniac?!”
“Well, at least this will be... exciting,” I mutter under my breath, already brainstorming strategies to avoid getting fried—I mean, caught in his crossfire.
“The first teams to fight will be…” All Might shouts, purposefully dragging the reveal to add suspense. “…Team A and Team D!”
We’re going against Team A? That’s Uraraka and Midoriya.
It’s obvious Anger Issues and Midoriya have history... this could complicate our exercise. Well, it doesn’t matter as long as my team wins.
“Team A will be the heroes, and Team D the villains,” All Might continues, before ushering the rest of the students to the monitor room.
I glance at our opponents; Uraraka is wearing a skintight bodysuit with pink accessories, most likely for her gravity manipulation quirk. Midoriya, on the other hand, stands out clad in a green jumpsuit with what appear to be bunny ears—definitely not the most intimidating attire.
As the villain team, we’re allowed five minutes to set up before the heroes break in.
“Oi! Deku has a quirk, right?” my teammate asks me abruptly as I eye the so-called ‘weapon’ we’re supposed to guard, a flimsy papier-mâché contraption.
I’ve heard him call Midoriya that before; it’s a harsh nickname to say the least. I turn to face him, “Yeah, it seems to be a strength amplifier or something.”
It’s barely visible on his face, but my ears pick up the faint sound of shaky breaths. I step closer, but his gaze is still fixed on the wall, his brows furrowed. Why on earth does he look so shocked? During the quirk assessment, he also seemed convinced that Midoriya was quirkless… weird.
“Hey Bakugo,” I say, moving in front of him, “I’m not going to pry into your relationship with Midoriya. But right now, winning this is our top priority.”
Only now does his full attention shift to me. Ha, ‘win’ is the equivalent of a magic word for competitive guys like Anger Issues.
“Let’s crush that Easter Bunny,” I add with a smirk, hoping to channel some humor into the tense moment.
His mouth curves into a scary smile. “I’ll kill him,” he states before dashing out of the room.
…I guess I’m guarding the weapon alone. I can’t help but wonder if my attempt at humor backfired spectacularly. I did not mean that literally, yet I’m pretty sure he did.
Taking a deep breath to refocus, I look around the room, considering our setup. Uraraka’s ‘Zero-Gravity’ quirk is a significant threat. I need to stop her from turning objects that are lying around into flying projectiles. I begin fortifying our base; anything that can float and become a threat gets thrown out or moved out of reach.
Satisfied with my preparations, I take a position near the weapon, my bat ears twitching as I listen for any sign of Team A’s approach.
Moments later, I hear strong explosions and the walls slightly tremble. Anger Issues is already in action. Through our small wireless radios, I attempt to reach him, “Bakugo, what’s happening out there?”
“Shut up and defend!” his curt response crackles through my earpiece, leaving me to wonder about the unfolding chaos.
I get that he doesn’t have the time to answer, but does he have to be so fucking rude about it?
The room falls into an uneasy silence, broken only by the occasional distant explosion and the muffled sound of battle.
Minutes pass in tense anticipation. My enhanced hearing picks up faint movements approaching. I concentrate, trying to pinpoint their source. Sure enough, I detect subtle footsteps nearing the entrance.
I adjust my position, muscles tensing as I ready myself. The moment Uraraka steps into the room, I spring into action, throwing a smoke bomb at her feet.
I had anticipated she would be the one to make it this far—Bakugo's entire attention is undoubtedly focused on Midoriya. Their personal feud ensured this outcome.
The room fills with thick, blinding smoke.
I close my eyes. Concentrate. Focus on the echoes.
Using my echolocation, I map out the room in my mind. The outlines of pillars, walls, and most importantly, Uraraka, come into 3D. Flying silently through the smoke, I close in on her.
“Deku! Moriyama found me, I’m sorry! I’m at—” Uraraka’s words are cut short as I strike quickly, preventing her from giving Easter Bunny our location.
My first blow knocks her off balance, and before she can recover, I pin her to the ground, holding her hands down firmly. I reach for her earpiece and smash it against the floor, cutting off her communication with her teammate.
“No outside assistance. If I have to deal with a silent partner, so do you.”
For a moment, I feel a sense of victory. But then, I realize my mistake.
The physical contact between our hands gives Uraraka the opportunity to activate her quirk. I feel myself becoming weightless, my sense of balance is thrown off, and I struggle to orient myself. Shit.
Seizing the opportunity, Uraraka lunges for the papier-mâché weapon—her vision partially regained as the smoke has started to dissipate. I use my wings to propel myself. Despite being weightless, I generate enough momentum to collide with her mid-air.
The impact sends us both tumbling, her quirk on me wears off, and I manage to pin her down again, this time holding her wrists in such a way that her hands can’t touch me.
The ground shakes beneath us, a stark reminder of the intense battle raging between Bakugo and Midoriya a few floors underneath us. The tremors send vibrations through the room, and cracks emerge on the concrete floor, spreading ominously to some of the pillars. Despite the unstable surroundings, my focus remains fixed on Uraraka.
Before the tension escalates further, an announcement shouts through the speakers.
“Time's up! The villain team wins!” All Might's voice booms across the training area.
Relief washes over me, mingled with the lingering adrenaline of the fight. I release Uraraka and stand up slowly, panting as I catch my breath. The smoke has cleared enough to see the room around us.
Uraraka sits up, rubbing her wrists where I had held them down moments ago. Her expression is a mix of frustration and grudging respect.
“You're good,” she admits, a slight smile tugging at her lips despite her defeat.
“Thanks,” I reply, returning a weary smile of my own. “You put up a good fight, too.”
For the battle review, we join our classmates in the monitor room, and I head over to stand next to Anger Issues.
His expression is unreadable, yet somehow he manages to look even more intense than before the exercise…what happened between him and Easter Bunny?
Uraraka stands opposite to us, her teammate’s absence felt keenly in the empty space beside her.
Seriously, what happened? Did he actually kill the poor guy?
“Today's exercise will showcase a mix of strategies and skills,” All Might begins, gesturing to the screens showing our clashes from multiple viewpoints. “Team A, you faced a formidable defense from Team D.”
I listen intently, trying to glean insights from All Might's observations. The cameras have heat sensors, so even through the smoke, Uraraka’s and my own movements were clear as day.
All Might says this next part while looking at Anger Issues, “I’d like you all to remember that launching large-scale attacks indoors is reckless and can endanger not only your opponents but also your teammates. Heroics require precision and restraint, even in the heat of battle.”
Bakugo's jaw clenches tightly, his glare fixed on the floor. Even though we won, there's an unsettling energy emanating from him.
“Moriyama,” All Might continues, turning towards me. “It was very smart of you to cut off communication between your opponents. This is a crucial tactic used in real-life hero work, where disrupting enemy coordination can turn the tide of battle.”
I can't help but grin at his words, feeling a rush of pride. To be recognized by the Number 1 Hero, even in this simulated exercise, feels like a dream come true.
As All Might finishes his feedback on our battle, the attention shifts to the next pair awaiting their turn. “Now, let's proceed to the next match! Hero Team B, Todoroki and Shoji, versus Villain Team I, Ojiro and Hagakure!”
Candy Cane wastes no time. He freezes the entire building in seconds, creating an icy fortress that stretches from floor to ceiling. Within moments, Todoroki reaches the weapon, his touch securing an immediate victory for his team.
The rapid escalation catches everyone off guard. Hell, even his teammate Shoji seems shocked—It seems Candy Cane didn’t give him a heads-up. Does no one in this class understand the concept of teamwork?
As the monitors flicker back to standby mode, the room buzzes with discussion. Everyone’s marveling at Candy Cane’s quirk, me included.
Amidst the lively atmosphere, my furry ears perk up at the faint sound of the door creaking. I glance back and see Anger Issues slipping out of the monitor room.
I excuse myself from the conversation and follow him quietly. My steps echo softly in the corridor as I catch up to him.
“Bakugo,” I call out. He stops abruptly and turns to face me, his expression a scowl. “I wanted to say nice job for earlier. You fighting Deku while I take care of Uraraka turned out to be a good decision. Just, next time, warn me before storming off.”
“Whatever,” he grunts.
Cranky much?
“You know, they say communication is key,” I joke.
Bakugo’s scowl intensifies, his jaw clenching as he glares at me. Clearly, humor isn't his strong suit.
“I don't need your fucking advice,” he snaps, walking away without another word.
I watch him go, shaking my head. He couldn’t have won the damn thing without me, yet he’s acting all high and mighty.
What an asshole.