I leaned against the wall of the monitoring room, watching the aftermath unfold on the screens. Broccoli—Midoriya—was limping his way back, bruised but intact. Surprising. I'd expected at least one shattered limb from that match.
The rest of the class huddled in small groups, their whispers filling the room like white noise. Interesting reactions all around. Kirishima looked worried. Half-and-Half hadn't moved a muscle.
All Might's voice boomed through the speakers. "BOTH TEAMS RETURN TO THE MONITORING ROOM IMMEDIATELY!"
When the door finally slid open, you could've heard a pin drop. Bakugo entered first, eyes fixed on the floor, hands jammed into his pockets. The air around him practically sizzled. Midoriya followed, keeping a careful distance. Smart kid.
"WELL DONE, YOUNG HEROES!" All Might bellowed, his perpetual smile somehow wider than usual. "An exciting first match!"
No one spoke. No one moved. I stifled a yawn.
All Might cleared his throat. "Let us begin with praise! Young Uraraka, your quick thinking and decisive action secured the win! Excellent work!"
Mochi blushed, floating a few inches off the ground in her excitement before catching herself.
"Young Iida, your commitment to the villain role was commendable! Perhaps a bit... theatrical, but committed nonetheless!"
Four-Eyes adjusted his glasses with robotic precision. "Thank you, sir! I endeavored to fully immerse myself in the psychological profile of villainy!"
I rolled my eyes. This guy was a walking instruction manual.
All Might turned to Bakugo, his smile dimming slightly. "Young Bakugo, I must commend you for your restraint. You listened to my orders and did not use your gauntlets." His voice dropped an octave. "However, letting personal feelings cloud your judgment in a mission is a fatal flaw for a hero. You were fighting one opponent, not completing the objective."
Bakugo's knuckles whitened. He didn't look up.
"Now then!" All Might's voice returned to its boisterous volume. "Young heroes! Can anyone tell me who was the Most Valuable Player of this match?"
And just like that, the floodgates opened.
"It was Midoriya!" Kirishima shot up, pumping his fist. "He took a beating but never gave up! That's super manly!"
"I'd say Uraraka, kero." Asui tapped her finger against her chin. "She found the objective and secured the win while the others were fighting."
Four-Eyes raised his hand so straight it could've been used as a ruler. "While I was the opponent, objectively, Midoriya's strategy to use his power defensively as a last resort was a clever, if reckless, tactical shift!"
The responses continued, each more predictably heroic than the last. Kaminari praised Midoriya's "guts." Jiro gave a nod to Uraraka's stealth. Mineta said something about Uraraka's costume that I immediately tuned out.
All Might nodded along, clearly pleased with their engagement. His gaze swept the room, landing on two people who hadn't spoken: Half-and-Half and me.
"Young Todoroki! Your thoughts?"
Half-and-Half didn't blink. "Bakugo," he said, voice cold enough to frost the windows. "He demonstrated the most power and control. His only flaw was his objective focus."
Interesting. The pretty boy could see past the win/lose binary. Maybe there was more to him than daddy issues and heterochromia.
"An interesting perspective, Young Todoroki!" All Might turned those unnaturally blue eyes my way. "And you, Young Murano? As our top scorer, your analysis?"
I felt every eye in the room swing toward me like spotlights. Bakugo's glare could've melted steel. I leaned back further, letting a lazy smirk settle on my face.
"There wasn't one," I said simply.
The confusion was immediate. Whispers rippled through the room.
"I'm sorry?" All Might tilted his head.
"An MVP," I clarified, gesturing at the screens. "This wasn't a masterclass in heroism; it was a showcase of critical failures."
The whispers died. Even All Might looked taken aback.
"Midoriya was a martyr, willing to destroy himself for a win he lucked into. If Uraraka hadn't reached the weapon when she did, he'd be a bloody pulp on the floor right now." I glanced at Broccoli, who looked like I'd slapped him. "Sorry, but it's true."
I continued before anyone could interrupt. "Uraraka was a competent opportunist, but she had no initial plan beyond 'find the thing.' Iida was a pantomime villain who left the weapon completely exposed to get one capture." I turned to Bakugo, meeting his murderous gaze. "And Bakugo was an emotional wreck fighting a war on two fronts: one against Midoriya, and one against himself. He lost both."
The silence that followed was deafening. All Might's smile had frozen in place, like a glitching video game character.
"That's not fair!" Kirishima finally broke the silence. "They all tried their hardest!"
"And 'trying their hardest' gets civilians killed in the real world," I countered, keeping my tone light. "A hero's job isn't to try hard; it's to win."
"That's quite the breakdown, Young Murano," All Might said, recovering his composure. His laugh filled the room, but it sounded forced. "A harsh but thorough analysis! Very well! Let's see if you can live up to your own high standards!" He struck a pose, pointing dramatically at the screens. "HERO TEAM B AND VILLAIN TEAM G, PREPARE FOR YOUR MATCH!"
That was my cue. I pushed off the wall, catching Yaoyorozu's eye again. "Ready, Princess?"
Her cheeks flushed at the nickname, but she nodded, gathering her things.
As we headed for the door, I could feel eyes boring into my back. Most of them probably thought I was an asshole. They weren't entirely wrong. But this wasn't a social club; it was training for a profession where mistakes got people killed. If they couldn't handle honest criticism in a classroom, they'd never survive the real world.
Besides, I had my own match to focus on.
The building for our battle trial was a five-story concrete monstrosity designed to look like a corporate headquarters. Gray, boring, and full of narrow hallways and office spaces. Perfect for a cat-girl like Yuzuriha to stalk her prey.
"Alright, Princess," I said, pointing confidently. "Fourth floor. That's where they'll be."
I strode forward, heading for what I was certain was the entrance... and walked straight into a solid brick wall.
I stopped. Blinked. Turned around.
"Perhaps it's this way," I said, walking with slightly less confidence toward what looked like a door... which turned out to be a maintenance shed.
Behind me, I heard a soft sound. Yaoyorozu was covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking slightly.
"Are you laughing at me, Princess?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, no," she said, composing herself. "I would never."
I tried once more, heading toward another part of the building... only to find myself facing a ventilation unit.
"Okay. Fine." I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "My sense of direction is a tactical liability." I turned to her, dropping the smirk for just a moment. "You lead."
Something shifted in her expression. The uncertainty that had clouded her eyes since our encounter in the onsen cleared, replaced by a spark of confidence. She stepped forward, her movement graceful and purposeful.
"This way," she said, her voice soft but sure. She reached out, hesitated for a fraction of a second, then gently took my hand.
Her hand was warm, her skin impossibly soft. But there was strength in her grip, a quiet assurance that belied her prim exterior. I let her guide me toward the actual entrance, which was, of course, on the completely opposite side from where I'd been headed.
As we walked, I couldn't resist. I turned my hand within hers, my thumb beginning to trace slow, deliberate circles on the soft skin of her backhand.
She flinched, a small jolt running through her. Her cheeks flushed a beautiful crimson that spread down her neck. She glanced down at our joined hands, then up at me, her dark eyes wide.
I kept looking forward, the lazy smirk back on my face, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. She didn't pull her hand away.
"We're up against a predator and a cartoon character," I said, keeping my voice low as we approached the entrance. "Yuzuriha relies on senses. Manga relies on sightlines. We blind them both."
Yaoyorozu nodded, her analytical mind clearly engaged despite the blush still coloring her cheeks. "A sensory overload strategy."
"Exactly. I need four small, durable drones with cameras, and three smoke grenades. Can you do that, Princess?"
She was so focused on the feeling of my thumb on her hand that she only nodded, her breath catching slightly. "I... Yes. I can create those."
"Good. The plan is simple. You create the drones, I charge them. We send them ahead to map the building and locate our targets. Once we have their position, we flood the area with smoke and use the drones' cameras to navigate. They'll be blind; we won't."
We reached the entrance, a set of glass doors that slid open as we approached. I reluctantly released her hand, immediately missing its warmth.
"One minute," All Might's voice announced through our earpieces. "PREPARE YOURSELVES, YOUNG HEROES!"
Yaoyorozu took a deep breath, her hand going to her exposed collarbone. A soft glow emanated from her skin as she began to create the first drone.
"Can I ask you something?" she said, not looking up from her work.
"You just did," I replied, watching with fascination as the drone materialized from her body.
She smiled slightly. "Why did you analyze the first match that way? Everyone else saw heroic efforts. You saw failures."
I considered my answer carefully. "Because I'm not interested in heroic efforts. I'm interested in results. Those kids in there," I nodded toward the monitoring room, "they're all playing hero. I'm playing to win."
"And what do you win, exactly?" She handed me the first drone, a sleek, compact thing no bigger than my palm.
I charged it with a touch, watching it glow violet. "Everything."
"BATTLE START!" All Might's voice boomed.
I caught Yaoyorozu's eye and winked. "Let's show them how it's done, Princess."
For the first time since I'd met her, Yaoyorozu smiled at me without reservation.
"Yes, let's."