"Go, go, Bakugo hero squad! Boom, boom, boom!"
"Growl."
His head jerked up.
Beyond the thinning trees stood a towering, furred figure, arms crossed, the reinforced yellow barrier wall rising several meters behind him, bulwarked by green fortifications.
Inui-san.
"Grwwll. You made it."
His voice was gravelly but approving.
The group approached, emerging from the tree line as Hound Dog's sharp golden eyes swept over them, cataloging each student in a single glance.
"Good morning, Inui-sensei," Izuku said, the others echoing the greeting.
His gaze settled on Izuku.
"Midoriya."
The hero's expression softened, just barely, as he gave a small nod of recognition.
Izuku returned the nod.
Then Inui-san's attention shifted to the rest of the group.
"You're here because of the Principal's message," he rumbled. It wasn't a question.
Uraraka-san nodded. "Yes, sir. We thought it'd be better to avoid the main gate."
"Smart." Inui-san jerked his head toward the reinforced gate behind him. "The media circus out front's getting worse. Been there before dawn."
Izuku stepped a little closer. "Sensei... weren't there any others who needed help avoiding the media?"
"There's one in Class 1-B," he rumbled. "Top of their rankings. Their Quirk makes them the perfect candidate for questions about the station incident."
His ears twitched, gaze flickering to Izuku. Brief, but knowing. As his counselor, the Hound Hero fully knew about Izuku's involvement that day.
"But don't worry," the hero continued. "Snipe's covering the western barrier for them."
Izuku nodded, relief easing the tension in his shoulders.
Inui-san sniffed audibly, ears swiveling as he scanned the perimeter one last time. A low ruff escaped his throat.
"Scent's clean. No vultures following."
He stepped aside, pulling a tablet from his pocket—comically small in his massive hands—and began typing.
After a moment, he looked up at Izuku and Uraraka.
"The sensors on the east sector are cycled to 'Internal Bypass' for the next 180 seconds." His golden eyes narrowed. "If you're not over by then, the new turrets will flag you as aerial trespassers or unauthorized drones. So move."
Uraraka-san stepped forward, her face set in intense concentration.
"Okay, everyone huddle up! If you feel sick, just look at the sky, not the ground!"
One by one, she tapped them, including Izuku.
He hovered up with the ease of practice.
Yaoyorozu-san gasped as her boots lost purchase on the pine needles, hands flying out instinctively.
Jiro-san let out a small "Whoa—", her earjacks curling reflexively.
Shoji-san's arms spread for balance. Tokoyami-san went perfectly still, while Dark Shadow-san whooped.
The air around them bent, Izuku's Nebula force field catching the weightless group like satellites to a planet.
"We should hold onto some—" Yaoyorozu-san started.
Jiro-san's jack coiled around Izuku's forearm before she finished. Shoji-san's duplicated arm extended from his hand, gripping Izuku's shoulder. Tokoyami-san, or rather Dark Shadow, grabbed his other shoulder with a shadowy claw.
Seeing the situation, Yaoyorozu-san and Uraraka-san offered their hands.
Izuku hesitated just a moment, then grabbed both.
His cheeks warmed. So did theirs, faint pink dusting across their faces.
He willed the force.
Hooshh!
With a soft sound like a sudden intake of breath, the group lifted.
Through the blur of forest green and sky blue, they surged upward.
The canopy dropped away, replaced by the sheer, imposing face of the UA fortification. The top of the wall blurred past, steel sensors and automated turrets tracking their movement but not firing.
For a split second, far below and to the left, the sprawling media circus at the distant main gate seemed to shrink into a colony of ants swarming a sugar cube.
Then they were over.
Izuku angled them down slowly, guiding the group toward the quiet, manicured training grounds on the other side of the wall.
They descended into a secluded grove of trees, boots touching grass in a staggered landing.
Uraraka-san released her Quirk with a quiet "Release," and the group regained their weight with a collective thud.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Dark Shadow broke the silence.
"THAT WAS AMAZING! Let's do it again!"
"Absolutely not," Tokoyami-san said flatly, though his lips twitched slightly.
Yaoyorozu-san smoothed her uniform, composed despite the pink still lingering in her cheeks. "That was... quite efficient."
Jiro-san unwound her jack from Izuku's arm, grinning slightly. "Not bad, Midoriya."
Shōji-san simply nodded, his primary arms folding as his duplicated limbs retracted.
Uraraka-san beamed. "We did it!"
Izuku exhaled, the adrenaline fading as his heartbeat steadied.
They'd made it.
The group made their way across the grounds toward the main campus building, footsteps quiet on the grass.
In the distance, the first bell rang, sharp and clear through the morning air.
They picked up their pace, slipping through the entrance just as the chime faded.
By the time they reached Class 1-A's door, the hallway was nearly empty.
Izuku pushed the door open.
The classroom was already filling—students settling into seats, conversations humming.
Iida-san was already at his desk, hands chopping through air as he lectured a sleepy-looking Shinsou-san about 'proper rest schedules.'
Uraraka-san waved at Iida-san, breathless but smiling, as she slid into her seat behind him.
Kacchan sat near the front, arms crossed, scowling at nothing in particular.
Izuku found his seat—still quietly grateful it wasn't close to Kacchan—and slid into place. The distant roar of the media horde pressed faintly at his senses.
Yaoyorozu-san moved to her seat behind him, smoothing her uniform with practiced composure, though the faint pink hadn't quite left her cheeks. Tokoyami-san settled in silently to his right, Dark Shadow-san tucking itself against his shoulder. Shoji-san took the front seat of their row with a quiet, practiced ease, like someone who knew exactly how much space he occupied. Jiro-san dropped into her chair behind him with a relieved exhale, one earjack already wandering toward her music player.
A moment later, the final bell rang.
Ding-dong-ding-d-slam!
The door slid open.
Eraser Head-sensei entered, looking implausibly more exhausted than yesterday, a yellow sleeping bag draped over one shoulder and files in his hands.
Thudddd!
The echo of the door shutting dulled the last of the outside noise.
"Morning," the teacher muttered, dropping the sleeping bag beside the podium. "Take your seats."
The class quieted immediately.
"First," he began, voice low and rough, "the media situation. You've all seen it. The circus."
His gaze, slightly bloodshot but shark-sharp, swept across the room.
"Most of you were harassed this morning. Some engaged them." His eyes flickered toward Iida-san.
"Some didn't." His gaze swept past Kacchan, Shoto-san and a few others.
"Some simply avoided them." His eyes settled on Izuku's group that had arrived with him.
A few students shifted in their seats.
"Although I advised not to entertain them, some of you may want the attention," he continued, dropping the files in his hand on the desk. "The desire for fame is a common motivator in this industry. If you want to play to the cameras, that's at your discretion, but only when you are off campus and off the clock. If they harass you on school grounds, report it to me immediately. I don't tolerate distractions."
The room felt cold. Aizawa-sensei's gaze locked onto Shinsou-san for a moment.
"However," his voice dropped an octave, turning clinical, "some of you would do well to avoid the spotlight if you want to take the fullest advantage of your skill set in the future. If your Quirk favors intelligence, subtlety, or subterfuge, fame is the biggest liability."
The still-water silence was broken only by the click of his pen as he scratched notes on the file in front of him.
Scratch. Scratch.
They were left with their own thoughts for a time.
…Click.
He looked up.
"In the end, they're scavengers looking for a soundbite they can twist into a scandal."
He bent and brought a stack of papers from the sleeping bag, tapping them against the podium.
"Homeroom is over. Pick up your syllabus and pass it back." He gestured at Shoji-san seated at the front.
As Shoji-san stepped forward and collected the stack, the door slammed open.
"GOOD MORNING, LISTENERS!"
Present Mic-sensei entered enthusiastically, earning a sigh from Eraser Head-sensei.
"Buckle up, students," the voice hero continued, undeterred by his colleague's exasperation. "You have a tough challenge ahead."
At his declaration, a few students started to look excited. But a few moments later...
"Okay, class, tell me where is the mistake in this English sentence."
'So normal.'
Izuku could almost hear the collective thought of the class.
The morning continued like this—
Ectoplasm-sensei's math class somehow made integral calculus feel like a training exercise. Double period. Two hours of derivatives and limits explained with rigid precision, and Izuku couldn't shake the feeling that the teacher at the front might be a clone. He couldn't hear any heartbeat from him.
Midnight-sensei's Hero History lecture involved significantly more innuendo than Izuku had expected from a class about the Quirk Registration Act. She'd somehow made legal precedent sound scandalous.
But it was school. Normal, mostly.
Then the lunch bell rang.
Midnight sashayed out, her departure drawing more than a few lingering gazes. Including Izuku's.
"Izuku," Nana's voice held restrained amusement.
"Well, he's a teenager," Banjo added, far less restrained.
Heat flooded Izuku's face.
"Midoriya-kun!"
Uraraka-san's voice was a blessed interruption. She'd already corralled Iida-san and Jiro-san, gesturing enthusiastically.
"Let's go to lunch! I'm starving!"
Iida-san declared, hands already chopping. "Yes. Proper nutrition is essential for afternoon performance!"
Jiro-san just shrugged, unplugging one earjack. "I could eat."
Before Izuku could respond, Uraraka-san had turned to Yaoyorozu. "Yaomomo, you're coming too, right?"
Yaoyorozu-san blinked at the nickname but smiled softly. "I... yes, of course."
Izuku glanced at Shōji-san and Tokoyami-san, who lingered near their desks.
"You two as well?" he asked.
Shōji-san inclined his head. "Appreciated."
"Sustenance calls," Tokoyami-san intoned. Dark Shadow perked up over his shoulder. "FOOD! FOOD! FOOD!"
"Silence, fiend."
Seven students—and one excitable Quirk—made their way toward the cafeteria.
They'd barely turned the hallway corner when a familiar gravelly voice cut through the ambient chatter.
"Midoriya."
Izuku turned.
Aizawa-sensei stood in a doorway, a file tucked under one arm, a mug in his other hand. Steam curled from the lid.
"I need to talk to you."
Izuku blinked, bewildered, not only at being singled out, but at the fact that someone was drinking coffee at noon. He could smell it: sharp, bitter, black. No cream, no sugar. Just caffeine and exhaustion.
Aizawa-sensei's gaze shifted to Jiro.
"And Kyoka..." he tapped his own ear meaningfully.
The warning was clear: Don't eavesdrop.
Jiro-san's eyes widened slightly. "Y-yes, sir."
She quickly plugged one jack into her phone, the other into a small music player clipped to her pocket. Izuku caught the faint buzz of drums leaking from the connection.
The others hesitated.
"We'll save you a seat," Uraraka-san said quietly, her eyes flicking between Izuku and Aizawa-sensei with obvious concern.
"Do not worry, Midoriya-kun!" Iida-san added. "We will await your arrival!"
Yaoyorozu-san simply nodded, her expression carefully neutral.
Shoji-san, Tokoyami-san, and Jiro-san followed the group down the hall without a word, though Dark Shadow's head swiveled back once before Tokoyami-san tugged him forward.
Aizawa-sensei turned. "Come in."
Izuku entered.
After taking a seat in the small conference room, its windows overlooking the training grounds, Aizawa-sensei took a long sip from his mug, his eyes never leaving Izuku's face.
Then he spoke.
"I owe you an apology. No—I am sorry, Midoriya."
Izuku froze.
Aizawa's expression remained unreadable, but something in his voice had shifted, quieter, more deliberate.
"I tend not to read full student profiles. I avoid digging too deeply into backgrounds, trying to separate students from their pasts or personal connections." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "But this policy of mine has caused me to misjudge you. Ironically, it made me create the exact personal connection I try to avoid, linking you to All Might."
Izuku sat there, listening, shock growing with each word. The shock reached a fever pitch when Aizawa-sensei mentioned All Might.
Seeing his reaction, Aizawa-sensei waved a hand. "But how you gained the Number One's attention doesn't really matter. Most likely through the station incident, when you awakened your Quirk."
Izuku flinched back instinctively, eyes going wide.
Aizawa-sensei looked at him carefully, the next words coming out softer.
"As your supervising instructor, I've been briefed on the relevant details by the Principal."
Izuku's heart rate slowed. He exhaled, calming slightly at the mention of Nezu-san's involvement.
"Though even without that, I would have known you as the boy in the Vortex."
"Wh... What do you mean?" Izuku asked, both curious and cautious.
"I was involved that day. I used my Quirk on you, getting almost the same reaction I got yesterday... No... that day it was almost immune. Yesterday was merely resistant."
'Immune and resistant,' Izuku thoughts turned to fascination. "Did my Quirk really resist Erasure yesterday? I thought you'd just stopped using it."
"No. It resists me. Unlike any other I've encountered." Aizawa-sensei shook his head, opening the folder in his hand, eyes scanning. "Quirk Name: Nexus. A hybrid of undetermined types. Energy accumulation... structured manipulation of that energy... possible multiple manifestations... multiple mutations. Hmm." He looked up at Izuku, raising an eyebrow.
Izuku hurriedly started to explain. "Ah, Nexus—it signifies the convergence of energy and… um… everything so far. And also… a convergence of my… my frie— my rel—"
"Midoriya." Aizawa-sensei's voice cut through gently. "That's not what I want to know."
"You don't? Then—?"
"I'm asking if there's anything more you can tell me about your Quirk. As your homeroom teacher, I need to know."
Izuku fell silent, not knowing what to do.
Aizawa-sensei sighed. "There was a giant pair of emerald eyes in my vision when Erasure got pushed back. Does your Quirk have mental aspects to it, Midoriya?"
After another long silence, Izuku nodded. "Yes."
Aizawa-sensei raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to explain.
But Izuku didn't.
Aizawa-sensei let out another sigh. "It seems, I haven't gained any trust from you. Rather, I lost it—and rightfully so. I have to work on that." He set down his mug. "Once again, I'm sorry for yesterday's actions. You can go."
Izuku stood, making his way to the door. After opening it, he looked back.
"Sir, for what it's worth... you're the first of my teachers to sincerely apologize to me."
Then he left.
The hallway stretched ahead, emptier than it had been minutes ago. Silent to anyone but him.
"That took courage," Nana said gently. "Both of you."
Izuku's throat tightened. His hands were still trembling slightly.
A teacher had apologized to him. It was a very foreign experience.
"Well, the guy seems decent enough," Banjo offered. "Though he reminds me of someone. Who might that be?"
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Izuku's footsteps echoed across the polished floors. The cafeteria noise grew clearer ahead: hundreds of students talking, laughing, chairs scraping, trays clattering.
"The man is responsible enough to recognize his mistakes," En said smoothly, not minding the implication.
"Responsible, surely," Hikage's voice was softer than the others but no less firm. "But perhaps not the most self-aware."
"What do you mean?" Izuku asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"I didn't like how he so callously used his Quirk," Hikage said. "Specifically a Quirk like that. It removes agency. Silences another's power without consent."
There was a weight to those words that settled heavy in Izuku's chest.
"I am not condemning the man. He did apologize. Just pointing it out." Hikage added, gentler now.
Izuku accelerated his steps, deep in thought. The assortment of smells tangled in: nutty roasted sesame; salty, savory umami of simmering bonito flakes and kombu; sharp, spicy chili oil; earthy, pungent aroma of sauce base; turmeric, cumin, and stewed carrots of curry; clean but delicious smell of tonkatsu and karaage. And many more.
"Callous use of Quirk..." he finally said, examining his own hand.
The alley this morning flashed through his mind. One gesture. One burst of air. Problem solved.
Had that been callous too?
The vestiges remained silent.
He looked ahead at the cafeteria entrance, its warm light staining his face, and stepped inside.
The massive space was easily large enough to hold every UA student at once. The ceiling was high and windowed. Two walls were mostly glass, letting in natural light that made the whole space feel open despite the crowd.
And there, near the windows, at the corner—
His friends.
Uraraka-san spotted him first. She waved both arms over her head, grinning.
He smiled, waving back, then gestured toward the serving line.
She nodded, pointing at an empty seat at their table.
He made his way toward the line forming in front of Lunch Rush's cooking stations, which lined one wall. Steam rose from industrial-sized pots and grills.
"Hey, about OFA resisting that nullification quirk? How'd that happen?" Banjo chimed in.
"Well, we were too busy to notice the use of a Quirk like Erasure on that day, and so was Izuku," Nana said.
Izuku silently nodded as he joined the line.
"But I'm more curious about the eyes thingy. I didn't know that could happen," Banjo said.
"Nor did I," Nana added. Hikage and En agreed.
'I thought it was probably Yoichi-san. You do have green eyes,' Izuku thought.
"I can assure you, I have nothing to do with it," Yoichi replied.
Izuku was surprised. Yoichi-san was the original wielder of OFA; if anyone should understand how it worked, it was him.
"But you know something, don't you, old man?" Banjo cut in. "Your face says it damn clearly."
Izuku took his meal and made his way to his friends.
The tray with his meal—katsudon, because of course—was warm against his palm.
He navigated between tables and privacy planters, weaving through clusters of students from other courses. Support Course students with grease-stained fingers. Business Course students with perfectly combed hair. A few General Studies students hunched over phones.
When he reached the table, Uraraka-san was already half-standing, waving enthusiastically, despite him clearly heading their way.
The group of six and a quirk had claimed a table near the glass wall overlooking the courtyard lawn.
"Midoriya-kun!" Uraraka-san called out. "What took so long? We were starting to worry!" She was munching from her tray, which already looked half-empty.
Iida-san was mid-chop, hands moving in emphasis. "—and thus, proper meal pacing is essential for digestive health—ah, Midoriya-kun! Please, sit!" In front of him sat a cup half-filled with orange juice, fuel for his Engine Quirk. Izuku was still trying to decipher the exact metabolic process.
Yaoyorozu-san had the most elaborate spread: multiple small dishes arranged with almost artistic precision. She ate delicately, but Izuku noticed she was actually consuming quite a lot.
Jiro-san slouched at the end, one earjack plugged into her phone. The lunch: onigiri and green tea.
Shoji-san's mask sat slightly lowered, primary arms working chopsticks over a tray loaded with tofu and vegetables. The duplicated limbs rested, folded in various positions.
Tokoyami-san nodded in greeting, his plate surprisingly meat-heavy. Dark Shadow-san hovered nearby, eyeing a piece of karaage with predatory focus.
"Don't even think about it," Tokoyami-san muttered.
"But Fumi—"
"No. You already finished yours."
And there was indeed an empty tray positioned in front of her.
Izuku set his tray down, sliding into the seat beside Uraraka-san.
"So," she said, leaning in slightly, "what did Sensei want?"
The table quieted. Even Dark Shadow stopped eyeing Tokoyami's food.
Izuku hesitated, chopsticks hovering over his katsudon.
"It was... about my Quirk. He wanted to understand it better. For training purposes."
Not a lie. Not the whole truth.
Iida adjusted his glasses, studying Izuku for a moment. Then, seemingly satisfied, he nodded and returned to his meal.
Then his gaze dropped to Izuku's tray and he tutted. "Once again katsudon, Midoriya-kun. You need a variety of nutritional foods, not just your comfort dish."
Izuku scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I know, I know. It's just—"
"Comfort food is comfort food for a reason," Uraraka-san interjected, grinning. "Right?"
He smiled. "Right."
Jiro-san pulled her earjack out, raising an eyebrow as she glanced around the table. "Did all of you know each other already? Except me?"
Uraraka-san laughed. "Kind of? I met Midoriya-kun during the entrance exam. And we met Iida-kun through his big brother, the hero Ingenium, whom Midoriya-kun knew."
"Hero brother—" Jiro-san's eyes flicked to Iida-san, then to Izuku. "Wait, Ingenium. The guy who was doing all those apologies on the news after the station thing. How'd you even meet him, Midoriya?"
The question landed like a stone in still water.
Iida-san's cup paused mid-air. His glasses caught the light, hiding his eyes.
Izuku felt the weight of six people—seven, counting Dark Shadow—turning toward him.
"Careful," En's voice murmured.
"He, uh—" Izuku started, then stopped. The truth was complicated. The cover story was simpler.
"You can deflect it for now." He could feel Nana's warmth settle on his shoulder, almost tangible. "But..."
Izuku set down his chopsticks.
"The station incident." His voice came out quieter than intended. "The Trigger outbreak at U.A. Station. Ingenium was the lead hero on site."
He drew a slow breath.
"I was there."
He kept his eyes on his katsudon, chopsticks gripped a little too tight.
Yaoyorozu-san's expression shifted, concern flickering across her features. "You were at the station incident? The one that canceled the exam?"
"Yes."
Jiro-san cut herself off mid-curse. "That must've been rough. I heard it was pretty bad."
Tokoyami-san's usual theatrical edge was gone. "That must have been a difficult ordeal."
Shoji's primary eyes met Izuku's across the table. A small nod—fellow survivor to fellow survivor.
Izuku returned it, grateful.
"After the incident, Ingenium found my notebooks—the ones I dropped during..." He paused. The memory flickered unbidden: capsule syringes riddling his body, the huddled crowd, lying on cold concrete. "...during the chaos. When he returned them, we talked."
"He personally returned your notebooks?" Dark Shadow-san's voice carried genuine surprise.
Iida-san's hands chopped with renewed vigor. "My brother has always believed in personally connecting with the citizens he protects!"
The table settled into a contemplative quiet, the kind that acknowledged weight without demanding more.
Izuku finally looked up at Uraraka-san, dreading what he might see in his first friend in a decade. Maybe confusion. Or hurt that he'd hidden things.
But Uraraka-san just gave him a small smile and a quiet nod.
No hurt look. No confusion.
Just... acceptance.
Izuku blinked, momentarily dumbfounded.
"Well," En said dryly, "even if she didn't question your connection with Ingenium, what about Nezu? One of the most influential people in the country?"
Izuku had told her about his electives with the principal, not everything but enough. It would be known soon enough once their schedules diverged.
"Not to mention," Nana added gently, "she knows your Quirk appeared recently."
Izuku's chopsticks stilled over his katsudon.
So...
"So she's figured something out," Nana finished softly. "Or at least suspected it."
Izuku studied Uraraka-san's expression—her eyes lingering on his for just a moment longer than necessary, her lips curving slightly, more reassurance than smile.
She knows there's more to the story. And she was choosing not to push.
He swallowed the lump in his throat.
"You okay, Midoriya-kun?" Uraraka-san asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Yeah," he managed, voice a little rough. "Just... thank you."
She blinked, surprised. "For what?"
"For..." He gestured vaguely, unable to find the right words. "Just—thank you."
Her smile widened, warmer this time. "Anytime."
After a moment, he lifted his chopsticks and clicked them against the ceramic, drawing up a thick slice of cutlet trailing sauce, rice and egg clustering around it.
The savory, mirin-sweet aroma of the dashi rose with the steam, hitting him just before the first rich, salty bite.
Yaoyorozu-san delicately set down her chopsticks, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin before speaking.
"Oh, I did knew Iida-san before this." Her voice was measured, polite. "We met briefly at formal functions. A few times."
Iida-san nodded, adjusting his glasses. "Yes! The Iida family has attended several charity galas hosted by Yaoyorozu Industries. Though I confess we never had the opportunity for extended conversation."
Izuku listened quietly, finishing his meal as quickly as he could without inhaling it.
"The circumstances were hardly conducive to it," Yaoyorozu-san agreed, a hint of something—relief? amusement?—flickering across her features. "Such events are more about appearances than genuine connection."
Uraraka-san's eyes widened slightly. "Charity galas? Like... fancy dress-up parties?"
"Essentially, yes." Yaoyorozu-san's smile turned rueful. "Though with considerably less enjoyment and considerably more networking."
"Sounds exhausting," Jiro-san muttered, stabbing at her onigiri.
Yaoyorozu-san nodded. "Well, it could—"
"Ahhhh!"
Pain. Splitting. Sudden. Behind the eyes. Through the skull. Down the spine like lightning made of acid.
"Midoriya-kun!" "What the—Midoriya!"
His hands flailed backward instinctively, releasing the glass—
Smash-tinkle-splash!
—reaching for the source of the pain... and finding no one.
Flash! "Ahhhggh!" Another one. Deeper. More piercing.
CRASH-stumble! The chill of the floor throbbed against his cheek.
What... what is?
"Nine!" "Izuku!"
Hands on him. Multiple. Warm. Grounding.
He tried to sit up but the pain kept coming, familiar in a way that made his stomach drop.
"Izuku—it must be Danger Sense." Hikage's voice cut through, higher than usual, urgent. "You're receiving—"
"Izuku-kun, are you all right?" Soft hands closed around his palm. The warmth was enough to let him think.
Danger Sense... that means—
Through the pain, his ears kept working. Jiro-san cursing. Yaoyorozu-san's sharp inhale. Iida shouting. A whoosh of something expanding.
GRINGRINGRINGRING!
The alarm tore through the cafeteria like a physical force.
"SECURITY LEVEL 3 HAS BEEN BREACHED. STUDENTS PLEASE PROMPTLY EVACUATE."
Scrreeeech! Chairs scraped concrete.
"What is this all of a sudden!?"
Clatter! Tableware rattled.
"Is that a drill?"
Shatter! Glass crashed somewhere to his left.
"THAT'S THE LEVEL THREE ALARM, YOU IDIOTS, MOVE!"
BANG. Someone's chair tipped over.
CRASH. Another followed.
"Oww!!"
Izuku opened his eyes.
A student vaulting over a table, fingers sparking. A girl dropping her tray entirely; rice and vegetables sprayed across the floor as she stumbled backward.
His friends—who had knelt to help him—were being rammed by the panicking crowd.
"Don't push, dammit!" Jiro-san was shoved into the back of a chair, stumbling.
"This is getting dangerous!" Yaoyorozu-san barely held onto a privacy planter, knuckles white.
"CALM DOWN, EVERYONE! AH, OWW!" Iida-san's hands still tried to chop the air even as bodies buffeted him.
Shoji-san stood with six arms spread wide, creating a pocket of space beside Izuku. Tokoyami-san said nothing, but Dark Shadow-san expanded dramatically—
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"
—her form stretching to block the surge of the crowd.
And Uraraka-san. She was hovering over him, arms spread, trying to shield him from the chaos.
"Wait! Stop! SOMEBODY'S DOWN!"
But feet stomped anyway. Kicks landed.
"Nine." Hikage's voice cut through the static in his skull. "Focus."
And he did.
Through the cafeteria roar, voices from outside filtered in—reporters pressing against the fractured barrier:
"Hey, the barrier deactivated."
"Who knows, maybe it malfunctioned."
"Can't you see it's half crumbled."
"Well, that's bad. But All Might—I just need one comment. It would be a success."
The media.
With the recognition came a spike of anger—hot and immediate, bigger than the moment warranted.
'Those jackals—'
But the thought tasted wrong. Too... sharp.
He forced it down and made himself think.
How did the press breach the barrier? The barrier wouldn't just crumble on its own. Someone would need to—
Black suits. Black car. Watching. This morning. At the gate.
Hero Commission.
They were here because of the station incident. The station incident had happened because of him. The media frenzy, All Might's closed interviews, the HPSC scrutiny—all of it spiraling outward from the moment he'd absorbed One For All in a vortex above this very campus.
This is... my fault.
Izuku stilled, the force of anger draining away like mist.
Woong-sprrrk!
Green-pink sparks arced off him, angling carefully away from his friends as Nebula lifted him clear of the crush.
"Izuku." Yoichi's voice, calm amid the chaos. "Listen."
Was that Danger Sense? His mind raced even as he scanned the cafeteria—cataloguing the panic, the escape routes, the positions of his friends. No upperclassmen of the Hero Course visible. They'd be on the training grounds or in field exercises. No one was coming. Why did it appear now, of all times?
"What do you think has evolved most in you since that day?" Yoichi asked.
"My mitochondria. The energy processing—"
"It's your mind," Hikage said, urgent but controlled. "Your mind houses a mental realm. Trigger acts upon the mind. And Danger Sense is a mental Quirk—a receptor, not a discharger. Unlike the others in One For All, it doesn't project outward. It receives. The acquisition barrier was thin because what it needed was already there."
Izuku's eyes cut to the glass wall—the broken barrier beyond, the media swarm, the black-suited figures repositioning at the perimeter.
"Then it was always at the edges of my consciousness," he said quietly. "Waiting."
"Yes." Hikage's voice steadied. "But it isn't fully awakened, and in its current state it will do more harm than good. I'm going to seal it away, for now."
Izuku nodded once. He'd heard Yoichi's accounts of the Fourth's isolation, the years it had taken to master this exact Quirk. If Hikage said it needed sealing, it needed sealing.
He felt the seal settle—a muffled pressure behind his eyes, like a door closing on a storm.
He took a deep breath.
Green sparks flooded his skin as Aurora Cowl ignited, and he clapped.
KATHOOM—WOOOSH!
A wave of compressed wind rolled through the cafeteria. Harmless, but impossible to ignore.
Heads turned. Eyes found him.
Floating above the chaos, green sparks fading around his form, Izuku met their gazes one by one.
"CALM DOWN." His voice carried into the silence he'd made. "YOUR PANIC IS TRAMPLING YOUR CLASSMATES."
He pointed through the glass wall.
"IT'S OKAY. IT'S JUST THE PRESS. LOOK."
For one heartbeat the cafeteria held perfectly still.
Then—
"Someone's floating."
"He's right—look, it's the reporters."
"Hey. Get off my toes."
Izuku descended slowly, already looking past the settling crowd toward the broken barrier and the black-suited figures repositioning beyond it.
Then he looked back at his classmates.
"Let's show them," he said quietly, "that a wall falling over doesn't mean U.A. has crumbled."
"Plus... Ultra."