Chapter Text

Chapter 10:

“Ugh, I can practically feel the self-righteousness from here,” Tomura complained as they crouched behind a row of hedges across from U.A.'s front gate. “It’s choking me.” 

Izuku shoved his side. “Are you sure it’s not the insane amount of fake hands on you?” he replied. “Relax, we’ll get in and get out.” 

Tomura narrowed his eyes. “As if you don’t like being here.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.” 

Unfortunately, Tomura was right. Beyond the massive gates stood U.A. High School, the school he had spent most of his childhood dreaming about. The place he used to imagine attending with Kacchan. The place where heroes were made. A year ago he would have given anything to step onto that campus, and now he was doing it as a criminal. Life was funny sometimes.

“You keep staring at the gate with those beady eyes of yours,” the older boy continued, taking one of the hands from his body and placing it on Izuku’s head as he had taken to doing. “Hoping to see that boy again?”

“No,” Izuku sneered, readjusting the hand — Sister, he was pretty sure — in his hair. If there was a boy that he was hoping to see here, it definitely wasn’t Kirishima. “Shut up! I was just… admiring the structure of the building.”

“Hmph”

“Whatever! You’re like Eraserhead’s biggest fan and he’s—”

“Boys,” Kurogiri interrupted them, “the reporters are on their way.”

They grinned at each other. Right before they arrived at the school, Izuku and Tomura had spent an hour calling every news station within driving distance so their reporters would invade the campus. And like Izuku predicted, they did exactly that. Dozens of vans flooded the street with more arriving. Reporters spilled on the sidewalk carrying microphones, cameras, and enough equipment to pay off an apartment lease. They all began shouting questions at the school.

“Is All Might really a teacher now?”

“Is that legal?”

“Why has he stopped taking missions?”

“Is Principal Nezu willing to make a statement?”

The questions came one after another as reporters crowded against the gates. Camera flashes illuminated the entrance while security personnel attempted to keep everyone organized. Every few seconds another news van pulled up to the curb and unloaded even more reporters. Izuku watched the scene unfold with growing satisfaction. 

“They took the bait faster than I expected.” 

Tomura snorted. “It's All Might. You could announce he switched brands of toothpaste and people would lose their minds.” 

“True.”

Within minutes, the crowd became denser and the yelling got louder. The security guards were struggling already to keep the crowd out, and still, Izuku could see more vans on their way.

“Now?” Tomura asked.

“Not yet,” he replied. “Give them another minute, they’re not desperate enough yet.”

As if proving his point, one reporter squeezed past another and pushed closer to the gate. A second followed immediately after, and then a third. The security guards pushed back in response, which only caused the crowd to push further. 

“Now.” 

They merged with the crowd. Tomura pushed his way toward the gate while Izuku positioned himself where he could reach the stairs as quickly as possible. A few seconds later, the gate dissolved and the crowd surged forward. People screamed, cameras flashed, and security personnel shouted for everyone to back away, but nobody listened. The reporters flooded through the opening. 

And Izuku went with them. 

He ran alongside the crowd for several seconds before breaking away once they entered the campus grounds. Most of the reporters immediately headed toward the main building, hoping to find teachers or students willing to answer questions. Nobody paid attention to one teenager moving in the opposite direction. Izuku slipped behind a row of decorative bushes before darting toward the back of the school. His hood remained low over his face as he moved, taking advantage of the confusion around him. 

The campus was beautiful. Cleaner than any school he had ever attended. The walkways were spotless, the buildings looked practically brand new, even the training fields visible in the distance were maintained better than most public parks. For a brief moment, he found himself imagining what it would have been like to attend here. 

Then he shoved the thought aside. There would be time for that later. Maybe. 

The back entrance was locked. U.A.'s digital security was significantly better than Aldera's, but unfortunately for them, Izuku had spent the last ten months breaking into systems for a living. A portable device connected to the lock, a few commands, a bypass, and click. The door unlocked and Izuku slipped inside. 

The back part of the school was mainly empty. The few students and faculty members he saw were rushing toward the front of campus to deal with the reporter situation. He moved quickly through the building, taking photographs of everything he could find, documenting anything and everything to use for future planning. The deeper he went, the more excited he became. U.A. wasn't just a school for kids, it was practically a fortress. Whoever designed this place, Izuku desperately wanted to shake their hand. 

Then steal all their notes. 

A burst of voices echoed around a nearby corner. Izuku froze. Students. He quickly ducked into an empty classroom and peeked through the doorway. A group of teenagers hurried down the hall alongside a teacher. Hero students. Class 1-A, if the uniforms were any indication. 

His heart immediately sped up. Was Kacchan with them? 

Izuku leaned forward slightly. Then stopped himself. No. The mission came first. He had not infiltrated U.A. to stalk Katsuki Bakugou, even if part of him really wanted to just walk up to the boy and break his nose. With considerable effort, he pulled away from the doorway and continued deeper into the building. He could find Kacchan later.

Eventually, he made it to the front of the main building where he found an office for Eraserhead a few doors down from the 1-A classroom. Perfect, the plans had to be in here. 

Izuku glanced down both ends of the hallway before slipping inside. The room was surprisingly messy for a teacher. A sleeping bag occupied one corner while stacks of paperwork threatened to collapse off every available surface. Empty coffee cans littered the desk alongside grading rubrics, attendance sheets, and what appeared to be several weeks' worth of unfinished paperwork.

For someone who taught future heroes, Eraserhead seemed remarkably disorganized.

He began shuffling through papers — resisting the urge to look for the name Bakugou at all costs — until he finally found an itinerary set for seven days from now. It was pretty soon for such intense training just a week after the school year started, but that must be just what being in the hero course was like. 

At the top of the page was written Special Guest: All Might in bold letters. He quickly photographed the itinerary before returning it exactly where he found it. After that, he gathered a few more documents—building maps, emergency procedures, teacher schedules—and took pictures of those as well. By the time he finished, he had more than enough information to justify the entire operation.

Perfect. He slipped out of Eraserhead's office and headed toward the nearest stairwell. The hallways were mostly empty now, with only a few teachers directing the remaining students outside. Apparently the reporter incident had become enough of a headache that they were evacuating portions of the building until things settled down. Good, that meant fewer people around who could notice him. 

Izuku was nearly out when he heard a voice that made his heart stop. 

"Oi! Shitty hair! Hurry the hell up!" Kacchan snapped. The blonde was at the end of the hallway, arms crossed and looking thoroughly annoyed. Beside him, the boy from yesterday — Kirishima was carrying what appeared to be three different bags while attempting to lock a classroom door. 

"Relax, man!" Kirishima laughed. "Sensei said to make sure everything was cleared out!" 

"I don't care what he said." 

Izuku immediately ducked behind a nearby pillar, his heart racing. This could not be happening, all the students were supposed to be evacuating. But of course, it was just his luck that Kacchan was asked to stay behind for final checks. If either of them looked over— 

"I swear, if we're the last idiots in this building—" Kacchan growled.

"Technically we're not the last ones." 

"What?" 

Kirishima pointed farther down the hallway to where a teacher was escorting two support course students toward the exit. 

Kacchan rolled his eyes. "Whatever." 

"Dude, it was like thirty seconds,” the redhead retorted, slinging an arm around the blonde. 

Izuku waited for Kacchan to yell and call the boy an idiot, but he never did. Instead, the blonde simply rolled his eyes and kept walking. The arm stayed exactly where it was. Kirishima laughed at something and Kacchan actually answered him, not with an insult or a threat, but an actual response. Then the two of them disappeared into another classroom together. 

He stared after them. What the hell was that? For years, Kacchan barely tolerated anyone touching him. Most people couldn't stand within three feet of him without getting screamed at. Yet somehow this random redhead had known him for a week and was already throwing an arm around his shoulders like they'd been friends forever. 

How was that fair?

A hot, ugly feeling settled in Izuku's chest. He had spent years trying to get Kacchan's attention. Years trying to keep up with him. Years following him around, listening to him talk, memorizing his habits, learning everything there was to know about him. And this guy just showed up and got everything Izuku never did. The worst part was how easy it looked. Kirishima wasn't trying. He wasn't carefully choosing every word before speaking. He wasn't following Kacchan around hoping for scraps of approval. He wasn't desperately attempting to prove his worth. He was just there and apparently that was enough. 

Fine. Whatever. It’s not like he cared (except that he totally did). Just a year ago, Kacchan was shoving him around and making him feel weak. But now Izuku was strong; he knew how to leap across buildings and take down men twice his size, he could analyze a quirk within minutes and steal a watch from a bystander without trouble. He could break into the most heavily guarded school in the country and not be seen.

Yeah, Kacchan changed a lot, but Izuku had changed more, and very soon, Kacchan was going to see just how much.

Tomura was waiting exactly where they had agreed to meet, lingering in an alley just far enough from U.A. to avoid suspicion. He was sitting atop a dumpster, playing a game on his mobile console. When he saw Izuku, he immediately jumped down.

“Well?”

“I got pictures of everything,” Izuku replied, handing over his phone.

The older boy grinned as he scrolled through all the pictures of maps and rules and attendance records. “Seven days.”

“Yup.”

For a second, Tomura’s grin made him look his age, like he was a twenty-year-old going to a party or a premiere. Then the grin sharpened into something far more dangerous. “Then tonight we put out the word to anyone who’s looking to cause some trouble,” he said. 

“You know,” Izuku said, “most of them are probably going to be idiots.”

“Duh.” Tomura gently shoved him. “That’s why we’re going to leave them there.”

“Ah, collateral damage?”

“If the NPCs count as that,” the older boy scoffed.

They continued walking through the city, weaving around pedestrians who paid them little attention. It was getting dark now, streetlights flickering to life one by one as the evening crowd thickened. 

"So what's your plan when you see him?" Tomura asked suddenly. “Do I need to worry about your infatuation with Katsuki Bakugou?”

Izuku frowned. “How did you—?”

“I’m the one who scouted you, remember?” Tomura shoved his hands in his pocket. “Of course I found out everything about you, including your obsession with Bakugou and his explosions.” His voice suddenly dropped and got sterner, more menacing. “So do I need to worry?”

“I don’t want to kill him,” he replied. 

“Stupid, but go on.”

“Though, you are right” Izuku took the hand atop his head off and tossed it from hand to hand. “I’ve always chased after him, desperate for him to see me, but now… now I just want to show him how strong I am. I want to hurt him as much as he hurt me.”

Tomura clapped his hands. “Good! I had to make sure you weren’t going to have a morality crisis on me. Don’t feel guilty though about wanting revenge, it is after all, what the League is about.”

And like all of the other commands, this one washes over Izuku until even the smallest sliver of guilt he didn’t even know was there is destroyed and replaced by emptiness. It’s times like these — when Tomura gives him a command without realizing — that Izuku really wants to slap the older boy for not watching what he says. Also like all the other times he accidentally commanded Izuku, Tomura continued walking. Jackass. If he was going to keep accidentally rewriting Izuku's emotions every other day, the least he could do was notice.

By the time they reached the bar, Tomura had already moved on to discussing which criminals would be useful during the U.S.J. attack, but Izuku’s mind was focused on Kacchan. More specifically, on making Kacchan hurt. Yes, that would make him feel better. 

There was just one problem: Izuku had no idea what he wanted to do. Did he want to punch Kacchan’s teeth out? Yes. Did he want to make the other boy bleed? Yes. Did he want to kill him? No. So how do you hurt someone without killing them? An obvious answer would be to go after the things they love, but Izuku didn’t want to hurt Auntie and Uncle, and he also knew that Kacchan didn’t really care about any of his friends from middle school. There was Kirishima, who appeared to be becoming Kacchan’s friend, but Izuku didn’t really want to kill him. 

So what could he do except just shove it in Kacchan’s face that the boy he used to bully for being weak as a strong villain now?

He had an idea of how to go about that, inspired from the time he blew up a warehouse on his birthday when he tried to imitate Kacchan’s explosions. Izuku had thought about trying to create his own artificial explosions — he had some spare parts to tinker with — but he never sat down to do it. Maybe it was time.

Kacchan’s explosions were made possible by the nitroglycerin in his sweat, which Izuku couldn’t recreate, but he could make something similar to it. Instead of using nitroglycerin to make something explode, he could set up a chemical reaction using potassium nitrate and sucrose to make synthetic smoke. They did this once in chemistry class, though on a much smaller scale than what Izuku was thinking, but he was positive he could figure out the adjustments. Both of the ingredients were easy to find — potassium nitrate could be bought at any garden store and sucrose was in sugar — it was just the actual mechanism that would need refining. 

He needed something that could hold both parts at the same time without letting them touch unless set off.

The actual design changed six times in the first hour. Izuku filled page after page in his notebook with sketches, crossing out entire concepts almost as quickly as he drew them. The floor disappeared beneath discarded notes while the empty energy drink cans that Tomura loved but Izuku never enjoyed the taste of accumulated around his desk. The modifications done to his body allowed him to continue going even when his body should have shut down from exhaustion. 

Once he had a stable design, Izuku threw on his hood and covered his face to steal his ingredients. On the way, he walked past Tomura, who had fallen asleep on the couch, and the dinner that Kurogiri had left for him, but he never came down to collect. He went to the nearest supercenter to find both the powder and sugar. Luckily, it was easy to get in and get out of the store without too much trouble, and the whole trip took Izuku about thirty minutes to get there and back. 

The first prototype failed immediately. The second lasted thirty seconds before falling apart in his hands. The third worked slightly better. The fourth nearly convinced him he was onto something before it malfunctioned. By dawn, Izuku was covered in soot, nursing a headache, and stubbornly refusing to quit. 

"Come on," he muttered, staring at the newest version. "You're close." 

He wasn't even trying to copy Kacchan's explosions anymore. At this point, Izuku was just trying to make something work. God he hoped this one worked, he was so tired. 

Izuku carried it to the roof and set it down on the ledge, turning the knob on the back of the mechanism before running backwards. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a sharp crack split the air and a dense white cloud erupted outward. The force knocked Izuku backward into the rooftop door for what was probably the third time that night. Pain shot through his shoulders, but he barely noticed. The cloud expanded far faster than he expected, swallowing the entire rooftop within seconds. His eyes widened, Izuku couldn’t see anything around him. Not the ledge or the street below, not even the street lights that had been illuminating the night sky just seconds earlier. 

The smoke surrounded him on all sides like a living wall. When he tried to move through it, he immediately doubled over coughing. "Whoa." His voice sounded distant, muffled by the haze. 

But he did it. He actually did it. Hours of tinkering. Burn marks. Failed prototypes. A truly embarrassing amount of caffeine. More than one moment where he seriously considered throwing the entire project off the roof. And somehow, it worked. A grin spread across his face. Now that he finally understood how the design functioned, he could make more.

“Tomura!” Izuku shouted as he tore back into the building. “Tomura! Wake up!”

A groan from downstairs told him that Tomura had not moved from the couch since he started tinkering. “What?” the older teen grumbled.

“I did it.” He grinned. “I made a bomb to help us!”

Once again: “What?”

“Come on!”

“Brat, it’s like three in the morning—”

Tomura complained the entire time to the roof despite the fact that he himself had woken up Izuku many times in the middle of the night to complete a level or fight a boss. The complaints stopped when Izuku set up another prototype.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Cover your nose,” Izuku responded.

“What?”

“Trust me.”

Tomura looked deeply unconvinced but did it anyway. Izuku made the final adjustment and immediately sprinted back. A second later, another sharp crack echoed across the rooftop. The cloud exploded outward and both of them started coughing almost instantly.

"WHAT THE HELL—" 

"ISN'T IT COOL?" 

"I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING!" 

"THAT'S THE POINT!" 

Eventually the haze began to thin. As visibility returned, Izuku found himself staring at a very wide-eyed Tomura. Then the older boy grabbed him by the shoulders. 

"This is wonderful!" 

Izuku laughed. Tomura laughed. And for several seconds they just stood there grinning like idiots. Then the older boy snatched the remains of the prototype off the ground and twirled it around in his fingers, careful not to let all five fingers touch it.

“This is what you’ve been doing all night?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Izuku replied. “Do you like it?”

Tomura patted his hair. “This is incredible. Can you make more?”

“Of course, I can.”

“I want you to make as much as you can and then maybe a few extra surprises,” the older boy said. “And those pesky heroes won’t know what hit them.”

Izuku nodded and after a few hours of sleep, he got back to work making more smoke bombs along with a few extra things he thought might be useful. A respirator, a grappling launcher, and some decoys. When it was time to attack, he was fully prepared.

BAKUGOU POV bc i really like writing him

"...and yeah, it's been tough, but now I can use One For All at about seven percent without any problems. Ten percent still leaves me sore, though." Katsuki rubbed the back of his neck. "All Might says I'm pushing myself too hard, but recently I just can't help it." 

He looked down at the gravestone. "I keep seeing you around school." The confession felt stupid the moment it left his mouth. "Not actually you. I know you're not there." He laughed bitterly. "But I'll see somebody in the hallway and for a second I think it's you. Or I'll hear someone mumbling and turn around expecting to see you standing there with one of your dumb notebooks." His hands clenched in his pockets. "I think I'm going crazy." 

The cemetery remained silent. Katsuki sighed. "But I know you'd kill me if I screwed this up, so don't worry. I'm still training." His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. 

"There is one thing, though." A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "I think I made a friend." The words sounded strange. A year ago, he never would have admitted something like that out loud. "He keeps following me around. Talks way too much. Not as much as you did, but it's close." Katsuki rolled his eyes. "I thought he'd piss me off, but he's actually alright." The smile softened. "I think you'd like him."

 For a moment, he imagined introducing them. Shitty Hair would laugh as Izuku bombarded him with questions all while being excited that someone loved his quirk.

"Maybe I'll bring him here one day." 

His phone buzzed again. Oi, brat! Get your ass back home for dinner. Katsuki snorted. "Yeah, yeah. I'm coming." 

He stood and brushed the dirt from his pants. "I'll be back after the field trip." His gaze lingered on the name carved into the stone. "See you later, Izuku." 

For nearly a year now, Katsuki had been coming here. Sometimes to talk about training or complain about school, and sometimes because he had things he couldn't tell anyone else. Lately, most of those conversations had been about U.A. and the increasingly frequent moments where he swore he saw Izuku walking through the halls. Every time, the figure disappeared before he could get a second look. Every time, he felt like an idiot afterward. 

At first, Katsuki couldn't even look at Izuku's grave. For weeks, he would make it through the cemetery gates only to turn around and leave before reaching the headstone. Eventually, Auntie Inko started accompanying him. She never pushed him or told him what to say. She would simply sit beside him and talk about Izuku until Katsuki found himself able to walk a little farther each visit. From the gates, to the path, to the row where Izuku was buried, and finally, all the way to the headstone itself. Somewhere along the way, visiting stopped feeling impossible and became part of his routine.

It wasn't healthy, according to his mother. It wasn't normal, according to the therapist he was forced to see once a week. But Katsuki didn't care. It was the closest thing he had left to talking to Izuku.

When he got home, he inhaled dinner as quickly as possible before retreating to his room to finish his homework. Tomorrow, Class 1-A was traveling to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint for rescue training with Pro Hero Thirteen. All Might was supposed to be there as well, though Katsuki honestly would have preferred another private training session instead. Ever since Izuku's funeral, All Might had placed him on an intense training regimen designed to prepare his body for One For All. 

At first, Katsuki had hated it. Not because it was difficult, but because it wasn't difficult enough. He had demanded more weight, more strain, higher expectations, for anything that could be upped to be upped. If All Might wanted him to inherit the strongest quirk in the world, then Katsuki intended to earn it. And by the time All Might finally handed him a strand of hair, his body was more than ready. The transfer had succeeded and the entrance exam had gone smoothly. Katsuki had placed first among the general applicants, exactly as he expected. But One For All was different from Explosion. Different from anything he had ever experienced. Every increase in power brought new strain. New soreness. New injuries. Seven percent was manageable now, but ten percent still hurt. And every time he thought he had finally adapted, the Quirk reminded him just how much stronger it was than he was.

What helped the most, though, were the notebooks. Katsuki glanced toward the stack sitting on the edge of his desk. 

Hero Analysis Notebook No. 1. Hero Analysis Notebook No. 2. Hero Analysis Notebook No. 3. All the way to No. 14, written by Katsuki himself.

A year ago, he would have blown them up on principle, but now they were some of his most valuable possessions. Izuku had been right — the realization still annoyed him — taking notes on Quirks was useful. Taking notes on fighting styles was useful. Taking notes on strengths, weaknesses, rescue techniques, movement patterns, and combat habits was useful. It turned out that spending years obsessively analyzing heroes had actually been a pretty good idea. 

He opened No. 14. Several pages were dedicated entirely to One For All. Potential applications. Observed limitations. Possible methods of reducing recoil. Ideas for combining its power with Explosion. Questions to ask All Might. Failed theories crossed out in thick black ink. The notebook was cleaner and less creative compared to Izuku's old ones, but it still got the job done. Sometimes Katsuki caught himself writing exactly the way Izuku used to. The same arrows, the same circles, the same habit of cramming observations into the margins. The first time he noticed it, he almost ripped the page out. Now he barely thought about it. Or sometimes he thought about it too much. 

After all, every notebook started the same way. The inside cover always contained a single sentence: if you're going to become the best hero, then act like it and do the work. 

It was technically something Katsuki had said when they were kids, but every time he looked at it, he heard Izuku's voice. 

The notebook in front of him was open to a page covered in observations from the Quirk Apprehension Test. Aizawa-sensei's scarf, IcyHot's ice, Glasses' engines, even Shitty Hair had two full pages dedicated to his Hardening Quirk. If that red-haired idiot ever learned he had his own section in a Hero Analysis Notebook, he'd probably cry from happiness. 

“I don’t know how you did this,” he muttered to the empty room. “It gives me a goddamn headache.”

Just have patience, Kacchan, the nerd would say. It’s actually fun sometimes.

“Tch.”

Katsuki stared at the page. Maybe Izuku had been right about that too. 

There were a lot of things Katsuki wished he could ask him. Questions about heroes, villains, quirks, just about life in general. Questions he would never get answers to. 

His gaze drifted to the empty chair across from his desk. For a moment, he could almost picture it. Izuku sitting there with a pencil in his mouth and six notebooks spread around him, muttering to himself. Talking so fast that nobody else could keep up. His bright green eyes lighting up whenever he figured something out. Katsuki would probably tell him to shut up and Izuku would ignore him. And somehow they'd spend hours like that. The image disappeared as quickly as it came. 

Katsuki looked back down at the notebook. It was a shame, really, that he never got to write notebooks with Izuku. That he never got the chance to grow up beside him. So he was going to make sure that the nerd got to be a hero with him, even if Izuku wasn’t there to see it.

The bus ride to the U.S.J. started out exactly how Katsuki expected: loud. Half the class was talking over each other; Dunce Face was trying to start some kind of game, Ponytail was trying to start a class discussion, and Glasses kept standing up every few minutes to remind everyone of proper bus etiquette. Katsuki ignored all of them. He had his headphones around his neck and his notebook open in his lap, reviewing notes from yesterday's training session with All Might.

"Hey, Bakubro." Shitty Hair dropped into the seat beside him. 

As if summoned by the universe to make things worse, Pinky immediately sat down on his other side. "Whatcha reading?" Mina asked. 

"None of your business." 

"Cool, cool." She leaned forward. “Are those notes about your training?”

“MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!” Katsuki yelled again. 

“Yo, Blasty,” Kirishima laughed, “take it down a notch. We were just curious because you always seem to be writing something in that book.”

“Yeah,” Mina agreed. “You said it was hero-related, so why don’t you tell us something about what’s in there.”

“Quirk analysis,” Katsuki told them. “And ideas, I guess.”

“Woah, that’s so manly!”

God, what was up with Shitty Hair’s obsession with manliness?

“Tell us one!” Mina demanded. “Come on, Blasty!”

If she wasn’t a girl, Katsuki would hit her. “No, shut up.”

“Come on,” Kirishima pleaded. “Just one. Please!”

“Please!”

“Pretty please!”

“Pretty please with—”

“ALRIGHT!” he finally gave in. “Pro Hero Thirteen,” Katsuki told them, “the one training us today, her quirk is called Black Hole. It creates a vacuum effect that attracts nearby matter. The attraction force can be adjusted depending on what Thirteen wants to accomplish, but she primarily uses it for rescue operations, disaster cleanup, and debris removal."

And it was just his fucking luck that the whole damn class decided to quit talking in that moment to listen.

“The fuck are all you extras looking at?” he snapped. 

“Since when do you know stuff like that?” Kaminari asked from across the aisle. 

“Since always?” Katsuki replied. 

“No, seriously,” Mina said. “You sounded like you swallowed a textbook.” A few students laughed.

Katsuki resisted the urge to throw himself out of the emergency exit. “That’s public fucking knowledge, losers,” he told them.

“Tell us more!” Round Cheeks yelled from the front of the bus. “Please, Bakugou? I think it would benefit everyone here for our assignment.”

“Whatever.” But he then proceeded to recite everything he remembered Izuku wrote about Thirteen. “Black Hole isn't just useful for rescue work. If Thirteen stopped holding back, she could destroy pretty much anything caught in its range: buildings, vehicles, support gear, anything really. It's one of the most dangerous quirks in Japan, she just chooses not to use it that way.”

“How do you know all this?” Ponytail asked. 

“Yeah,” Tape-Face agreed, “no offense man, but you don’t seem like the type of guy to sit down and watch heroes for hours to learn about their quirks.”

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ME, YOU DAMN EXTRAS!?”

“See?” Kaminari pointed. “That's exactly what I'm talking about.” 

“THE FUCK YOU MEAN BY THAT, DUNCE FACE?” Why won’t these idiots leave him alone?

“It means,” Sero said, “you don't seem like the kind of guy who sits around researching heroes for fun.” 

“Yeah,” Mina agreed. “I thought you'd just punch things until they stopped moving.” Several students nodded. 

Katsuki looked genuinely offended. “That's a terrible strategy, there’s no thought behind it or even an end goal in mind.” 

The entire bus stared at him. Realizing what he had just admitted, Katsuki immediately doubled down. “I mean, it's not—” 

“BRO.” Kirishima was laughing so hard he could barely stay upright. “Bakugou actually studies.” 

“OF COURSE I STUDY, DUMBASS!” Katsuki yelled back.

“Wait, so you've got notes and stuff?” Kaminari asked. 

“No,” he lied.

“That's a lie,” Yaoyorozu said immediately. 

“HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?” 

“Because nobody memorizes that much information accidentally.” 

Unfortunately, she had a point. Goddamn Ponytail. “Mind your own fucking business, Ponytail.” 

“Oh my god,” Pinky gasped. “He totally has notebooks.” 

“HE HAS NOTEBOOKS!” 

“THEY PROBABLY HAV—”

“CHILDREN!” Aizawa yelled, surprising all of them. It had only been a little over a week of school, but none of them had ever heard their teacher’s voice sound anything but flat. “We’re here.”

The entire bus erupted into excitement. Students practically tripped over themselves trying to get outside. Katsuki shoved past them before they could clog the aisle and stepped off the bus. His breath caught. The U.S.J. was enormous, no wonder they had to take a bus despite it being on campus.

Towering artificial landscapes stretched out in every direction. Flood zones, mountains, collapsed buildings, forests, industrial districts—every disaster scenario imaginable had been recreated beneath a massive dome. 

“Welcome!” Thirteen announced as the class gathered around her. “This is a practical training area I created to simulate all kinds of disasters and accidents.” 

Several students looked ready to explode from excitement. Katsuki understood the feeling. A facility like this was incredible. As Thirteen continued speaking about rescue work and the responsibilities that came with powerful quirks, Katsuki noticed Aizawa glance toward the entrance. A brief frown crossed his face. 

“Hey, 13,” Aizawa said, “where’s All Might?”

“Unfortunately,” Thirteen continued, “All Might has been delayed due to a problem in his patrol earlier. He should arrive shortly though, so don’t worry!” 

A collective groan rose from the class. Katsuki clicked his tongue. A problem in patrol? He would have to ask the old skeleton what happened. 

“Now then,” Thirteen said, clapping her hands together. “Let's begin discussing today's exercise—” A strange sound interrupted her, one that sounded like fabric tearing. Every conversation died immediately. 

Near the center of the facility, the air twisted. Dark purple mist spiraled outward. Katsuki felt every muscle in his body tense. No way this was part of the exercise. 

Aizawa clearly agreed because he stepped forward instantly. “Everyone,” he said quietly, “stay back.” 

The mist continued growing until it was the size of a round coffee table, and then a figure stepped out. He was tall and dressed in all black, but the strangest part was that this person was covered in hands. Actual hands with fingers. Tons of them crawled across his body, one covering most of his face while another rested on top of his light blue hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. 

The students collectively stared. “What the hell?” Kaminari whispered, and for once, Katskui agreed with him. 

A second figure emerged behind him. One that was clearly smaller and younger. This one had large glasses covering his eyes while a respirator hid the lower half of his face and gloves concealed his hands. Unlike his companion, the second figure was wearing a dark green coat over black jeans and a shirt. He also had a utility belt strapped around his waist filled with containers and other support-like items. His hair, though covered by a large hood, let enough pieces be seen to determine that this person's hair was both green and white.

Katsuki frowned. Something about him felt familiar. The way he stood slightly behind the hand-covered man while quietly studying everything around him. Observing. Analyzing. Watching. The feeling crawled beneath his skin. For a split second, he was reminded of— 

No. Impossible. 

The hooded boy tilted his head slightly as his gaze swept across the students. Then his eyes swept over the students, freezing when they met Katsuki’s stare. A strange chill ran down his spine. The villain froze for just a fraction of a second before looking away. Nobody else seemed to notice, but Katsuki did. And despite all the evidence pointing to the contrary, something about this stranger reminded him of Izuku.

“Where is All Might?”