The sound of a heated debate filled Minoru Mineta's small, messy apartment. On the television screen, two heroines who occupied ninety percent of his fantasies were in the middle of a verbal war on a talk show. The host, a neat-looking man with a professional smile, adjusted his earpiece.
"Ladies, let's be direct," the host said. "Mt. Lady, your harshest critics, among them several veteran heroes, argue that your approach can trivialize situations of real danger. Two months ago, during the Sludge Villain incident in the shopping district, the headlines focused more on the 'camera angle' than on the thirty civilians you rescued. Aren't you worried that your 'brand' eclipses your heroism?"
"Eclipses? Not at all!" Mt. Lady exclaimed, crossing her legs with a movement the camera lingered on. "Let's be real, people remember what they see. Do they remember the name of the hero who stopped the Sludge Villain? No. But they do remember the 'giant, fabulous heroine.' My visibility ensures that people donate to reconstruction agencies, that kids buy my merchandise, and that they feel safe because a familiar, powerful face is watching over them. Heroism needs funding. And funding needs publicity. It's an ecosystem, whether we like it or not."
Midnight, sitting across from her with predatory elegance, smirked.
"An ecosystem that feeds on superficiality," her voice, though seductive, had an edge of steel. "My point isn't a moral one; it's practical. When I subdue a group of armed criminals with my Quirk, the last thing I need is some rookie getting distracted by my outfit instead of following evacuation protocol. My body, as a tool, demands the enemy's specific focus. Your approach, my dear, demands the public's general focus, and in a crisis zone, that is a dangerous variable. You confuse being an idol with being a shield."
"And you confuse being bitter with being deep? Please!" Mt. Lady retorted. "My fan club funded three new wings at the children's hospital last year. What did your fan club fund? A whips and leather convention?"
The blow was low, direct, and glorious. Midnight sat up straighter, her smile turning glacial.
"Excuse me? Age is a reflection of experience. And my experience tells me that true strength doesn't need to shout so loud to be noticed."
"At least I don't need a whip for men to pay attention to me!"
Mineta, lying on the floor with a bowl of popcorn, choked a scream into a cushion. Tears were falling onto his food.
"Oh, yes... yes... fight over the philosophy of heroism, my queens..." he sobbed quietly. "Imagine if you rescued me! Mt. Lady would pull me out of a burning building, and the papers would say, 'Giant Heroine Saves Most Handsome Boy!' And Midnight would defend me from a villain and then teach me... teach me the complexities of the law on Quirk usage! They're so smart! So passionate! My heart can't take it! This is paradise..."
****
The atmosphere in Class 1-A's classroom was anything but paradise. With final exams only a week away, Shota Aizawa's warning to prepare for harsh written and practical tests still hung heavy in the air, feeding a growing murmur of panic.
"I'm dead," Denki Kaminari lamented, his head resting dramatically on his desk. "Completely fried. What if we try learning through osmosis? We record all of Present Mic's lectures and listen to them in our sleep. Something's gotta stick, right?"
Mina Ashido, next to him, nodded desperately.
"Good idea! I'll try it! But what about Ectoplasm's math classes? His clones all talk at once. My brain is going to melt!"
"Bad idea," Sero chimed in from his seat. "I tried making flashcards with my tape to stick them on the ceiling over my bed. It worked, but now I can't get them off. My room looks like a crazy person's nest."
In another corner of the room, the conversation was more somber.
"The written component is a mere formality," said Fumikage Tokoyami. "The true darkness lurks in the practical test. Aizawa-sensei will look to exploit our conceptual weaknesses, not just our brute strength."
"You're right," added Rikido Sato, stretching his muscles. "For me, it's stamina. If the test is long, my Sugar Rush has a limit. I'm more worried about resource management than pure combat. You, Ojiro?"
Mashirao Ojiro sighed, twitching the tip of his tail nervously.
"My tail is versatile, but against an opponent with a long-range or elemental Quirk, I'm at a disadvantage. I hope it's an urban environment with plenty of places for cover."
Seeing the anxiety spread, Izuku Midoriya felt the weight of his responsibility. I have to do something. I'm the class rep. I can't let them fall apart before we even start. He stood up, clearing his throat to get their attention.
"Guys, calm down," his voice, though nervous, had an underlying firmness. "Panicking won't help us. We can get organized. We can form study groups, focus on the areas where each of us is weakest, and help each other."
Tenya Iida shot up to support him, with his characteristic chopping hand gestures.
"Midoriya is right! Cooperation is the key to success! As class representative, his strategy is the most logical and efficient!"
Izuku gave him a small, grateful smile before continuing.
"For example, if you're worried about Quirk law, just remember that the precedent from the 'Daigoro vs. The Public Safety Commission' case completely changed the regulation on body-alteration Quirks, which directly relates to—"
He stopped when he saw the looks of pure terror on Mina and Kaminari's faces. Far from reassuring them, his explanation had only intimidated them further.
"Dude, you just fried the last two brain cells I had left," Kaminari groaned.
It was then that Momo Yaoyorozu, who had been watching the scene in silence, made a decision. They're so scared... I know all of this. I could explain the Daigoro case in five minutes. I could make diagrams for thermodynamics. But... what if they reject me? What if they think I'm showing off? "There goes Yaoyorozu, the rich girl who knows everything." No... that doesn't matter. A hero helps those in need. And they need me. It's my duty.
She stood, her posture reflecting a calm that contrasted with the prevailing chaos.
"If the theoretical component is the problem, I can offer my help," she said, her voice clear and confident, capturing everyone's attention. There was no hesitation in her tone; it was the declaration of a leader. "I can host a study session at my house this weekend to go over the most difficult topics."
The offer landed like a blessing from heaven. Kaminari and Mina nearly wept with gratitude.
"Seriously, Yaoyorozu?! You're an angel!" Mina exclaimed.
"I'll build a shrine to you in my room!" Kaminari promised.
Thrilled by the enthusiastic response, Momo happily accepted. A smile of genuine satisfaction lit up her face; she loved having a purpose, being useful.
Eijiro Kirishima quietly commented on how dedicated she was. The observation caused Katsuki Bakugo, who had been listening to the general whining with growing irritation, to whip around toward him, his face twisted in fury.
"THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKIN' AT, SHITTY HAIR?!" he yelled. "YOU THINK YOU NEED HELP FROM PONYTAIL? I'M NOT GONNA LET SOME SPIKY-HAIRED IDIOT RUIN THIS CLASS'S REPUTATION BY COMING IN LAST! THIS WEEKEND, YOU'RE STUDYING WITH ME! AND YOU'D BETTER PASS OR I'LL BLAST YOU UNTIL YOU FORGET HOW TO HARDEN!"
Kirishima, instead of being scared, grinned from ear to ear.
"Whoa, that's so manly! Thanks, Bakugo!"
"It's too late to try and memorize everything," Yuga Aoyama lamented.
"You're precisely the one who needs to, Aoyama," Mezo Shoji replied dryly, "given how shallow your knowledge is."
****
During lunch, the conversation at Izuku's table revolved around the same uncertainty.
"But robots have a strategic disadvantage: predictable patterns," Izuku analyzed, poking at his food. "Even with adaptive AI, they lack the desperation or cunning of a real villain. At the USJ, the villains used the terrain, coordinated improvised attacks..."
"Precisely!" Iida agreed. "Which makes human opponents an unacceptable legal and physical risk for an exam! The school can't risk another incident like the USJ! Robots are the only logical and safe option."
"It's the most logical thing," Momo added, "but with Aizawa-sensei, logic sometimes takes strange paths. It could be anything."
"As long as we don't have to clean windows, I'll be happy," Toru said with a shudder. "I heard Kirishima's internship was cleaning torture."
It was then that calamity, in the form of a purple-haired boy with a sarcastic smile, decided to make its entrance. Neito Monoma, from Class 1-B, appeared out of nowhere and leaned so far over the table that his head bumped into Izuku's.
"Oops, sorry!" he said with an apology so fake it dripped with sarcasm. "Didn't see you there, Class 1-A. It's hard to notice people when they're always in trouble, isn't it? I heard the details of your encounter with the Hero Killer. How exciting. While we in Class B train and improve in the shadows, you guys hog the headlines by getting into deadly trouble."
The attack was so direct and venomous it silenced the table. Izuku rubbed his head, more surprised than hurt. But before he could respond, he felt a shift in the air.
Ochako Uraraka didn't say a word. She didn't move. The taste of rice turned to ash in her mouth. The laughter of the cafeteria faded into a distant hum. Monoma's smirking, sarcastic face was momentarily superimposed with the empty eyes of a villain whose skull she had almost crushed at the USJ. An icy switch flipped inside her. It wasn't hot anger. It was a glacial cold, a protective void that rose up to defend her own.
She simply looked up from her plate. The usual warmth in her brown eyes had been replaced by a coldness that didn't fit her kind face. She looked at Monoma. Just looked at him. And without thinking, she let a fraction of that instinct, of that combat intent perfected in real battle, leak out.
Monoma, who was about to continue his tirade, stopped cold. A cold sweat ran down the back of his neck. Suddenly, the air around him felt heavy, oppressive. An abnormal pressure, as if gravity itself had subtly intensified around him, made him take an instinctive step back. His knees felt weak. He saw Ochako's eyes, and for an instant, he didn't see the cheerful girl from the sports festival; he saw the warrior who had faced death without flinching. He felt a combat intent so pure and focused that the hair on his arms stood on end.
"I... uh..." he stammered, his arrogance completely evaporating. "I just remembered I have something more important to do. See you later, Class A."
He turned and walked away at a pace so fast it was almost a run, leaving a female classmate of his, who was walking up behind him, completely bewildered.
Izuku was the only one who seemed to grasp the full scene. He felt it before he saw it. An almost imperceptible drop in pressure, like when an elevator stops abruptly. The steam rising from his soup seemed to hesitate for a millisecond.
He didn't stop her. A part of him, the one that still remembered the pain of the bump, felt immensely satisfied. And grateful.
As the tension dissipated, Izuku, as if nothing had happened, slid his hand under the table and gently stroked the back of Ochako's knee, an intimate and silent gesture. A "thank you" that only the two of them understood. She shivered slightly at the contact, and the coldness in her eyes vanished, replaced by the soft blush he knew so well.
It was then that Itsuka Kendo, Class 1-B's representative, arrived on the scene, dragging a still-pale Monoma.
"Neito! I swear on all that is holy I'm going to ask Vlad King to put a muzzle on you! How many times have I told you to stop provoking a war between classes?"
"I was just... motivating them, Itsuka. A healthy... competition..." Monoma tried to say.
"Shut up!" Kendo exclaimed, and gave him a karate chop to the back of the neck that knocked him out. "I'm so sorry about this idiot!" She bowed to them. "Seriously, sometimes I don't know what to do with him."
She dragged her classmate's inert body away.
"By the way, to make up for it, a friend in their third year told me something. It looks like the practical exam will be against robots, like the entrance exam. He said to save our energy! Not all of us in Class B are as obnoxious as he is."
With a smile, she left, leaving the table plunged into a new wave of speculation, and Izuku and Ochako sharing a silent and much more dangerous secret.