The setting sun stretched my shadow across the impeccably maintained lawn. The imposing steel and glass structure of Alliance Heights loomed before us, a grand monument to UA's absurd budget. I just wanted a shower, a change of clothes, and maybe death.
"Professor Yamada. Thank you. After an hour of what you called a 'scenic tour,' I was beginning to think these dorms were a myth."
Present Mic threw his head back and laughed, the sound booming across the empty courtyard. He slapped my shoulder hard enough to make me wince.
"No problem, Little Listener! Gotta learn the lay of the land!" His volume never dropped below 'concert front row.' "You've got star quality, kid! Real charisma! You light it up at the Sports Festival, I'll have you on 'Put Your Hands Up Radio' faster than you can say 'smash'!"
I fought the urge to cover my ears. How did this man function in normal society? The leather jacket, the ridiculous hair, the constant shouting—he was a walking noise complaint.
His grin dimmed slightly, though his voice remained loud enough to wake the dead. "Just... try to keep the sucker punches to a minimum, yeah? We're molding heroes, not heavyweight champs."
I offered him my practiced, lazy smirk. "I'll see what the script calls for."
He pointed finger-guns at me. "THAT'S THE SPIRIT, LITTLE LISTENER!" Then, pumping his fist skyward: "PLUS ULTRA!"
With that, he spun on his heel and zoomed away, leaving blessed silence in his wake. I exhaled slowly, feeling the burn on my chest throb beneath Dr. Takemi's medical membrane. Between Bakugo's explosion, Nezu's psychological chess match, and Present Mic's audio assault, I was running on fumes.
I stared at the dormitory doors. Behind them waited nineteen judgmental teenagers, each with their own half-baked theory about what happened in the locker room. The rumor mill would be churning at full capacity. Some would want details. Others would have already picked sides.
Time to face the music.
I squared my shoulders, fixed my expression into one of casual indifference, and pushed the doors open.
The common room was vast, elegant, and completely empty. The massive sectional sofa sat unoccupied. The fireplace was cold. No whispers, no stares, no poorly concealed phone cameras.
A slow exhale escaped me, one I hadn't realized I was holding. My shoulders dropped half an inch. Maybe they got bored waiting.
Yeah, and maybe Principal Nezu was just a cute, cuddly mascot.
My throat felt like sandpaper. I headed for the kitchen, drawn by the promise of water and a moment to collect myself before the inevitable interrogation.
The kitchen was dark except for the cool, white light spilling from the open refrigerator. Silhouetted against that glow was a figure that hadn't been there a second ago.
Yuzuriha perched on the counter, one leg tucked beneath her, the other dangling lazily above the floor. Her tail swished back and forth, tracing idle patterns on a cabinet door. She held a glass of milk, and her feline eyes caught the light as she turned toward me.
"Lost your way again, pretty boy?" Her voice was a low purr, amusement dancing in those slitted pupils. "Or did you just follow the scent of milk?"
I leaned against the doorframe. "Only thirsty for water right now."
She took a sip, leaving a white mustache on her upper lip that she licked away with slowly.
"So what's the damage?" she asked, setting her glass down. "Expulsion? Or did the principal just make you write 'I will not punch explosive psychopaths' a hundred times?"
I chuckled, keeping it light. "Principal's orders. For the next month, I'm on dish duty with the Pomeranian. Team-building exercise, apparently."
Her eyes widened slightly at the nickname.She hopped down from the counter, landing without a sound and walked towards me.
"That's the punishment," she said, closing the distance between us. Her eyes were calculating beneath the playful facade. "But what was the crime? A big, strong hero-in-training doesn't just punch someone for no reason."
She tilted her head, her tail curling questioningly behind her. "Tell me. Pretty please?"
"Now, now," I replied, matching her playful tone. "A good magician never reveals his secrets." I stepped around her to get a glass from the cabinet. "Besides, where's the fun in solving the mystery on day one?"
Her tail twitched in what might have been irritation or amusement.
A sharp, dramatic gasp from the hallway made us both turn.
"Yukio-kun! You're back!"
The floating outfit that was Toru Hagakure bounced into the kitchen, radiating excitement. "Oh my god, we heard you got into a fight! Did you get expelled?! Kaminari said you knocked Bakugo out with one punch! Was it awesome?! What did Aizawa-sensei do?!"
Her excited voice echoed through the dorm's open spaces. Immediately, there were sounds from above—a door creaking open, footsteps on the stairs, curious murmurs.
"Uh oh," Hagakure said. "I think I woke everyone up."
I filled my glass with water, suddenly aware of the approaching audience. Footsteps thundered down the stairs. Kaminari and Sero appeared first, followed closely by Ashido. Kirishima descended more slowly. Iida marched down with purpose, clearly ready to lecture someone. The crowd grew as Uraraka and Midoriya joined, then Yaoyorozu, Jiro, Asui, and others.
I looked from the approaching mob to Yuzuriha, who watched me with a smug, feline smirk. She knew exactly what she'd done, cornering me in the kitchen just in time for the main event.
Showtime.
"MURANO!" Iida's voice rang out like a disciplinary gong. "Your behavior today was unacceptable! Violence against fellow students violates at least seventeen different UA conduct policies!"
"Dude!" Kaminari pushed past Iida, eyes wide with admiration. "You demolished Bakugo! It was insane! One second you were across the room, the next—BAM!"
He mimed a punch that nearly caught Sero in the face.
"HEROIC VENGEANCE!" Manga's speech bubble displayed "KAPOW!" in bold comic font. "A RIGHTEOUS BLOW AGAINST THE FORCES OF BULLYING!"
"It wasn't righteous," Todoroki said flatly from the back of the group. "It was impulsive."
"Bakugo did say some harsh things," Kirishima admitted reluctantly. "But still, man, sucker-punching isn't very manly."
"I heard you both got expelled!" Ashido said.
"If they were expelled, they wouldn't be here, kero," Asui pointed out.
"So what happened?" Jiro asked, her earphone jacks twitching with interest. "With the principal?"
Eighteen pairs of eyes fixed on me expectantly. Even Yuzuriha leaned against the refrigerator, watching with unabashed curiosity.
I took a casual sip of water.
"Ah yes," I drawled. "My meeting with the fluffy overlord. Very educational."
I stepped forward, maneuvering past Hagakure toward the common room. The crowd parted reluctantly, following like a school of fish.
"You guys should have seen it," I continued, settling onto the couch with calculated nonchalance. "Nezu gave me and the Pomeranian a choice. Expulsion..." I paused for dramatic effect, watching several students lean forward. "Or unknown punishment of his choosing."
"You chose the unknown punishment?" Yaoyorozu looked appalled at the lack of strategic thinking.
"Well, when expulsion is the other option," I shrugged, "the devil you don't know seems like the better bet."
"So what's the punishment?" Ashido asked.
I grinned. "Dish duty. Every night for a month. Me and Bakugo, side by side in the Omega Mess kitchen, elbow-deep in soap suds."
"THAT'S your punishment?" Kaminari looked disappointed. "That's... kind of lame."
"Kinda genius, actually," I corrected him. "Think about it. Stick two guys who just tried to kill each other in a small, hot room full of sharp objects and dirty dishes. Make them work together for hours every night. It's psychological torture disguised as detention."
Midoriya's analytical mind kicked in immediately. "It actually makes sense. It forces collaboration between two strong-willed individuals with different approaches. It's mundane enough to be humbling but structured enough to potentially build mutual respect."
"Or it'll end with one of us stabbed with a butter knife," I added dryly.
"This is serious!" Iida chopped the air with his hand. "You could have been expelled! Your future as heroes—"
"Would have been fine," I cut him off. "Relax, Hall Monitor. Nezu made his point. Lesson learned."
"What was the lesson?" Uraraka asked, her round face genuinely curious.
I looked at her, then at the others. The genuine concern on Midoriya's face. The conflicted loyalty in Kirishima's eyes. The calculated interest from Todoroki and Yuzuriha. The open admiration from Kaminari and Hagakure.
"The lesson," I said slowly, "is that actions have consequences." I ran a hand through my white hair, the motion slower than before. "Look, it's been a long day. I got lost, punched a guy, got punched back, met the principal, toured the campus with Present Mic, and now I'm sitting through an interrogation. Can we save the rest for tomorrow?"
Iida opened his mouth to protest, but Yaoyorozu placed a hand on his shoulder.
"That seems reasonable," she said diplomatically. "We all have class in the morning."
The crowd began to disperse reluctantly, though not without parting comments.
"Still think it was awesome," Kaminari whispered, giving me a thumbs up.
"If you need any items for dish duty, I can create them," Yaoyorozu offered politely.
"Don't worry about Bakugo," Kirishima said, his sharp teeth flashing in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "He'll cool down. Eventually."
Midoriya lingered after the others had gone. "Murano-kun," he started hesitantly. "Did you... was it really because of what Kacchan said about Quirkless people?"
"Broccoli," I said, "some buttons aren't meant to be pushed. That's one of mine."
He nodded slowly, though the question still lingered in his eyes. "Thank you. Not for the fighting part, but for... standing up for them. For us. People don't know that until a year ago, I was—"
"Quirkless?" I finished for him.
His eyes widened in shock. "H-how did you know?"
I tapped my temple. "Bakugo isn't exactly subtle about your history. But look at you now. Defying expectations. Breaking fingers instead of being broken." I stood up, stretching casually. "Late bloomer Quirks are rare, but they happen. Must have been some awakening."
"Y-yeah. Quite an awakening."
"Anyway," I said, heading for the stairs, "I'm gonna get ready. Try not to break any more fingers, Broccoli. Recovery Girl doesn't strike me as the patient type."
"R-right! See you later, Murano-kun!"