Chapter Text
The sun had long dipped below the horizon by the time Class 1-A arrived at the hospital. The building loomed quietly against the night sky, its windows glowing with soft, sterile light. The students moved in a subdued line through the lobby, their usual energy replaced by a respectful silence. They approached the reception desk, where Aizawa calmly asked for the room number of Momo Yaoyorozu. The nurse, recognizing the group immediately, gave a quiet nod and directed them to the intensive care wing.
The walk down the corridor was slow, each step echoing faintly against the polished floors. The walls were lined with muted artwork and the occasional hum of medical equipment. No one spoke. They didn’t need to. The weight of the situation hung heavily in the air, and each student carried it in their own way.
When they reached the room, the door was already slightly ajar. Inside, the soft beeping of monitors and the rhythmic hiss of a ventilator filled the space. Momo lay in the hospital bed, her body wrapped in bandages, her skin pale against the white sheets. Tubes and wires connected her to various machines, and her chest rose and fell in slow, mechanical rhythm.
Midoriya sat closest to her, his hand resting gently on the edge of the bed. His eyes were tired, red-rimmed, but focused entirely on her. Beside him, Todoroki stood with his arms crossed, his gaze locked on Momo’s face, unmoving. Neither spoke as the rest of the class quietly entered, forming a respectful semicircle around the room.
Ochako stepped forward first, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Midoriya… are you okay?”
Izuku turned slightly, offering a faint smile. “I’m managing. Thanks.”
Sero approached Shouto with equal caution, unsure of how to break the silence. “Todoroki… you holding up?”
Shouto didn’t look away from Momo. “Trying.”
Aizawa stepped into the room, his presence grounding the group. He looked between the two boys before speaking.
“How’s her condition?”
Izuku straightened slightly. “The doctors say she’s recovering smoothly. But she’s still in critical condition. They don’t know when she’ll wake up.”
Shouto added, his voice low and steady, “She’s been through multiple surgeries. They’re trying to reduce scarring and remove all the shrapnel and debris from the explosion. It’s… extensive.”
The room fell into a deeper silence. The reality of Momo’s condition settled over the class like a fog. She had always been composed, intelligent, a pillar of their group. Seeing her like this was jarring.
Bakugou, who had remained near the back, finally stepped forward. He didn’t speak. Words weren’t his strength, especially in moments like this. Instead, he placed a firm hand on Izuku’s shoulder, a gesture that carried more weight than any sentence could. Izuku nodded, understanding the sentiment.
Satou, his brow furrowed, looked toward Aizawa. “Why was she even in a place like that? If it was booby-trapped…”
Aizawa’s expression darkened slightly. “The assignment came directly from the Hero Public Safety Commission. U.A. couldn’t refuse it. And I doubt the Commission knew it was a trap. No one in their right mind would send a fifteen-year-old into a situation like that knowingly - even if she’s Commission-trained.”
The explanation didn’t ease the tension, but it provided context. The students exchanged glances, their concern deepening. Momo had been sent into danger under official orders. That fact alone made the situation feel even more unjust.
They remained in the room for a while longer, each student taking a quiet moment to stand near Momo, to offer silent support. Some whispered words of encouragement, others simply stood in reflection. The Trust Trio had always been a unit, and now, with one of them down, the rest of the class felt the fracture.
As the visit came to an end, Aizawa gently ushered them out, reminding them to respect the hospital’s rules and Momo’s need for rest. The students filed out slowly, casting one last glance at their classmate before stepping back into the hallway.
The night outside was cool, the stars barely visible through the city’s glow. But within each student, a quiet resolve had begun to form. Momo was down, but not gone. And when she returned, they would be ready to stand beside her - stronger, united, and more determined than ever.
*🕮❀──────✧❅-'♡'-❅✧──────❀🕮*
Three days had passed since the class’s visit to the hospital, and the mood in Class 1-A remained subdued. The absence of Yaoyorozu was still deeply felt, and Todoroki had yet to return, choosing instead to remain by her side. But that morning, as the classroom door slid open, Midoriya stepped inside, his bag slung over one shoulder and his expression weary but composed.
The class immediately turned toward him, their faces lighting up with a mixture of relief and curiosity. Denki was the first to speak.
“Midoriya! You’re back!”
Kyouka leaned forward in her seat. “How’s Todoroki?”
Izuku offered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “He’s still at the hospital. He refuses to leave Momo’s side. Honestly… it was hard for me to come back.”
The class nodded in understanding. They knew the bond between the Trust Trio ran deep, and Izuku’s return was not a sign of detachment, but of duty. He had come back because he knew Momo would want him to continue moving forward.
Before the conversation could continue, Aizawa entered the room, his capture weapon trailing behind him as he approached the front. He looked over the class, noting the shift in energy, and spoke with his usual bluntness.
“Today, we’re going to go into more detail about the Internships.”
He gestured toward the door, which slid open to reveal three older students in U.A. uniforms. The room immediately buzzed with recognition and awe.
“These are the top three students in the Hero Course,” Aizawa said. “The Big 3. Mirio Toogata, Tamaki Amajiki, and Nejire Hadou.”
The First Years murmured among themselves. Many had heard of the Big 3 - students so advanced they were considered the strongest in the entire school. Izuku recalled seeing Mirio in last year’s Sports Festival, though he remembered that none of the Big 3 had placed particularly high. Still, their reputations were built on more than just tournament rankings.
Aizawa turned to the trio. “Introduce yourselves.”
Tamaki Amajiki stepped forward first. His eyes scanned the room, and several students flinched under what appeared to be an intense glare. In reality, Tamaki was desperately trying to imagine the class as potatoes - a trick he used to manage his stage fright. Unfortunately, while their heads were potato-shaped in his mind, their bodies remained human, and the illusion failed.
He turned his back to the class, his shoulders slumping. “I want to go home,” he muttered gloomily.
The class blinked in surprise. This was one of the strongest students in the school?
Nejire Hadou bounced forward next, her energy infectious. “Hi everyone! I’m Nejire Hadou, and this is Tamaki! We’re here to talk to you about Hero Work Studies!”
She beamed, then immediately veered off topic.
“Wow, your uniforms are so neat!"
"Do you style your hair like that on purpose?"
"What’s your favorite food?"
"Do you like cats or dogs?"
"What’s your Quirk?"
"Oh, you - why do you have that mask on?”
She fired off questions in rapid succession, her eyes wide with curiosity, not giving anyone time to answer. The class was both amused and overwhelmed by her childlike enthusiasm. Aizawa, however, pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly exasperated.
“Hadou. Stay on topic.”
Nejire giggled and nodded, though it was clear she was already thinking of her next question.
Mirio Toogata stepped forward last, his posture relaxed and confident. He raised a hand in greeting and offered a wide smile.
“Hey there, First Years! I’m Mirio Toogata. I’m here to help you understand what Work Studies are all about.”
He paused, then added a joke with a grin, though the punchline landed flat. The class stared at him, confused. Mirio blinked, then laughed.
“Okay, maybe not the best icebreaker. But trust me, you’ll get used to me.”
The students exchanged glances, beginning to wonder how such esteemed students could be so… strange. But Mirio’s next words shifted the mood.
“The best way for you to understand Work Studies is to experience them. So how about a training match? Against me.”
The room fell silent. A training match against one of the Big 3? The challenge was clear, and the opportunity undeniable. Whatever quirks these upperclassmen had in personality, their skill was unquestionable. And Class 1-A was about to find out just how wide the gap between them truly was.
The atmosphere in Gym Gamma was electric with anticipation. The entirety of Class 1-A - minus the absent Momo and Shouto - stood in formation, facing down the lone figure of Toogata. Though the numbers were overwhelmingly in their favor, there was a palpable tension in the air. Mirio stood relaxed, smiling with an almost playful confidence, while the students braced themselves for what they assumed would be a straightforward demonstration. Amajiki, standing off to the side with Hadou, looked visibly anxious.
“You really shouldn’t do this,” Tamaki muttered, his voice low and uncertain. “Words should be more than enough to explain.”
Nejire, however, tilted her head and smiled wistfully. “There was a student here once,” she said, her voice soft but clear enough for the class to hear. “They nearly gave up on becoming a hero because of all sorts of problems. But they saw something during a training session that changed everything. Sometimes, seeing is believing.”
The students of Class 1-A exchanged glances, their resolve hardening. Tokoyami stepped forward, his dark wings flaring slightly as he spoke.
“We’ve fought against Pro Heroes and real villains. We don’t need a handicap.”
Kirishima nodded in agreement, his fists clenched. “Yeah! We’re tougher than we look!”
Mirio chuckled and raised a hand. “Alright then. One of you, step up.”
Without hesitation, Izuku stepped forward, his eyes focused and determined. “I’ll go first.”
The rest of the class began to spread out, forming a loose perimeter around Mirio. The close-combat specialists - Kirishima, Satou, Ojiro, and others - moved in to flank him, ready to pounce. But before anyone could make a move, something strange happened. Mirio’s clothes suddenly slipped off his body, falling to the ground in a heap. The class froze, startled and confused, unsure whether this was a tactic or a mistake.
Izuku didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, aiming a powerful kick at Mirio’s exposed side. But to his shock, his foot passed clean through Mirio’s body, as though he were striking air. The momentum threw Izuku off balance, and before he could recover, Mirio vanished from his position.
The rest of the class launched their ambush, but Mirio reappeared behind them in a blur of motion. The students gasped, believing he had warped using his Quirk. Without missing a beat, Mirio targeted the long-range fighters - Jirou, Kaminari, Sero, and Tokoyami - disabling them with swift, precise strikes. His movements were fluid and unpredictable, and his attacks landed with surgical efficiency.
Tamaki watched from the sidelines, his expression unreadable. “Mirio’s Quirk isn’t the power to envy,” he said quietly. “People should be jealous of his skill. After training with a certain Pro, he was built up into the most powerful hero.”
One by one, Mirio dismantled the formation. More than half of Class 1-A lay sprawled across the gym floor, groaning in defeat. Aizawa, arms crossed, observed the match with a rare glint of approval in his eyes.
“Mirio is the closest hero to being Number One,” he said, his voice firm. “Even when you include the Pros.”
The remaining conscious students regrouped, their expressions grim but determined. They began to discuss the nature of Mirio’s Quirk, debating whether it allowed him to phase through objects or teleport. Izuku, catching his breath, stood up and rallied his classmates.
“We can’t beat him individually,” he said. “But if we work together, we can find an opening.”
Mirio, sensing the shift in strategy, smiled and sank into the ground. The students braced themselves, scanning the area for signs of his reappearance. Suddenly, he burst out from behind them, aiming to catch them off guard. But Izuku had anticipated the move. He pivoted and delivered a swift kick to Mirio’s head, connecting solidly.
Mirio staggered for a moment, then phased through Izuku’s body, reappearing behind him with a gleam in his eye. “Blinder Touch Eyeball Crush!” he announced, his hand darting toward Izuku’s face. But Izuku twisted away just in time, narrowly avoiding the attack and countering with another kick.
Mirio dodged effortlessly and retaliated with a powerful punch to Izuku’s gut, sending him sprawling. The rest of the class charged in, but Mirio subdued them one by one with graceful, calculated movements. Within minutes, the gym was silent save for the groans of the defeated.
Tamaki sighed and shook his head. “He really needs to learn to hold back.”
Mirio stood in the center of the gym, surrounded by his fallen opponents, his expression calm and composed. Despite the overwhelming defeat, the students of Class 1-A had witnessed something extraordinary - not just the power of a Quirk, but the result of relentless training, experience, and mastery. And though they had lost, the lesson was clear: the path to becoming a true hero was far more demanding than they had imagined.
As the dust settled in Gym Gamma and the groans of defeated students slowly faded into silence, Toogata stood at the center of the room, still smiling despite the exhaustion etched into the faces around him. His posture remained relaxed, though he had taken the time to gather his fallen uniform and put it back on. With a sheepish grin, he scratched the back of his head.
“Sorry about being naked,” he said, his voice lighthearted but sincere. “It’s kind of a side effect of my Quirk. Anyway… do you all have a better idea about what Work Studies are like now?”
The students of Class 1-A, still sprawled across the gym floor or sitting up with sore limbs and bruised egos, exchanged tired glances. Ashido groaned as she sat up, rubbing her shoulder.
“We didn’t learn anything,” she muttered. “We just got beat up.”
Several others nodded in agreement, their expressions ranging from frustrated to bewildered. Mirio chuckled softly and crouched down to meet their gaze.
“Do you think my Quirk is strong?”
There was a pause before Kaminari responded, his voice tinged with awe. “Yeah. It’s way too strong.”
“Can you tell us what it actually is?” asked Asui, her tone curious but cautious.
Hadou stepped forward, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. “Mirio’s Quirk is called Permeation,” she explained. “If he activates it throughout his whole body, he can pass through anything - walls, floors, even attacks. That’s why his clothes fall off. They don’t permeate with him.”
She gestured toward the ground. “When he phases through the floor, he starts falling. But if he deactivates his Quirk while he’s still falling, the ground repels him upward, and he can launch himself out like a bullet.”
The students murmured in amazement, finally beginning to grasp the mechanics behind Mirio’s seemingly impossible movements. Tokoyami nodded thoughtfully.
“That explains the sudden appearances. He’s not warping - he’s navigating through solid matter.”
Mirio stood again, his expression more serious now. “It’s true that Permeation can be powerful. But it wasn’t always like that. When I activate my Quirk, I lose all my senses. Sight, sound, touch - everything passes through me. I can’t see or hear or feel anything while I’m phasing.”
The class fell silent, absorbing the implications of such a limitation. Mirio continued, his voice steady.
“For a long time, I was behind my peers. I couldn’t control where I’d end up, and I couldn’t fight properly. But I learned to use my head. I trained to predict my opponents’ moves, to time my Quirk perfectly. I gained those skills through experience - real experience - during my Work Studies with Pro Heroes.”
He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each student. “That’s why I fought you today. Not to show off, but to help you understand. Work Studies aren’t just about watching Pros in action. You’ll be treated like Sidekicks, not guests. You’ll be thrown into real situations - some of them dangerous, some of them chaotic. But all of them will help you grow.”
The sincerity in his voice resonated deeply. The students, still aching from the match, now sat upright, their expressions shifting from defeat to contemplation. Mirio’s words had struck a chord. He wasn’t just strong - he was wise, experienced, and willing to share the lessons he’d earned through hardship.
“Even if you’re scared,” Mirio said, “I encourage you to participate. You’ll come out stronger. I promise.”
A moment passed before the gym erupted into applause. The students clapped, some weakly, others with renewed energy. They had seen firsthand the gap between themselves and a seasoned hero-in-training, and now they understood what the Work Studies could offer them - not just power, but growth.
Aizawa stepped forward, his usual stoic demeanor softened slightly. “Thank the Big 3 before they leave.”
The class turned to Mirio, Tamaki, and Nejire, offering their gratitude with bows and words of thanks. Nejire, ever curious, leaned toward Mirio with a grin.
“Did any of the students stand out to you?”
Mirio nodded, his gaze settling on Izuku. “Midoriya. He’s got good instincts. I think he’d fit in well working with Sir.”
Izuku’s eyes widened slightly at the mention, but he said nothing, storing the name away in his mind.
Later that day, after classes had ended, the students of Class 1-A returned to Heights Alliance, their dormitory. The mood was quieter than usual, contemplative. They had been humbled, but also inspired. Izuku, however, didn’t linger. He dropped off his bag and exchanged brief words with his classmates before slipping out once more.
His destination was clear. The hospital.
He walked with purpose, his thoughts swirling with everything he had learned that day. Mirio’s strength, his vulnerability, and his message had all left a mark. But above all, Izuku knew that Momo needed him. And even if he couldn’t be by her side every moment, he would make sure she knew he hadn’t forgotten her - not for a second.