A couple of days had passed since the attack, and the atmosphere at UA High School hung heavy with unspoken grief. Class 1-A sat in tense silence, the interactive board at the front of the room flickering to life.
Principal Nezu's calm, measured voice filled the space, his small form projected clearly despite the digital medium.
"Students of UA," Nezu began, his tone steady and resolute. "In light of recent events, I have made the decision to proceed with the annual Sports Festival. It is more important now than ever to present a strong, united front, to the villains who seek to undermine us, and to any doubters who question the strength of our institution and its students. This event is a cornerstone of hero society, a beacon of hope and resilience. We will not allow fear to dictate our path."
He paused, his dark eyes softening slightly. "To Class 1-A especially, you have my deepest condolences for your loss. Koji Koda was a promising young hero, and his absence will be felt by us all. But we honour him, and all heroes, by continuing forward. Train hard. Show the world what UA stands for. Good luck to you all."
The screen went dark as Midnight, their temporary homeroom teacher while Aizawa recovered, reached up and switched it off manually. The room remained silent, the weight of Nezu's words settling like dust. Midnight scanned the class, her sharp eyes noting the furrowed brows, the clenched fists, the averted gazes.
Some students, Bakugo's jaw tight, Uraraka's lips pressed thin, looked like they wanted to protest, but held back.
Finally, Midnight cracked her whip lightly against her palm, drawing attention.
"All right, class. Let's switch things up a bit, get some of that tension out productively." She smirked faintly, though her eyes held understanding. "First: who here still wants to participate in the Sports Festival?"
Hands rose steadily. Bakugo's shot up first, explosive confidence radiating. Uraraka followed, determined. Iida's hand was ramrod straight. Todoroki raised his calmly. Tokoyami, Yaoyorozu, Aoyama, and a few others joined them.
Midnight nodded. "Good. Now... who thinks it should be cancelled?"
More hands this time, hesitant but firm. Tsuyu's went up without hesitation. Jiro, Kaminari, Shoji, Kirishima, Mineta, Sero, and others followed.
"Perfect," Midnight said, clapping once. "Separate your chairs into two big groups, pro on one side, against on the other. You've got two minutes to huddle and pick your points. Then we're having a proper debate. Principal Nezu might even review the recording, your voices could sway things."
The class shuffled chairs with scraping sounds, dividing awkwardly but efficiently. Pro on the left, against on the right.
Across the room, Izuku Midoriya sat slumped slightly in his seat, dark circles under his eyes, his usual energy dulled to a weary flicker. He hadn't slept well since the hospital, nightmares of spikes, darkness, and a cold voice blending with the real grief over Koda.
Kirishima, grouping up nearby for the against side, noticed and leaned over. "Hey, Midoriya, you okay, man? You look wiped."
Izuku blinked, managing a tired smile. "Yeah... just a bit tired."
Kirishima nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "I get it. I've been struggling to sleep too, after everything. It's... heavy."
Izuku looked at him in quiet surprise. Kirishima? Internally, he marvelled, Kirishima was always so cheery, the unbreakable encourager, flashing that shark-toothed grin through every hardship. Seeing him admit vulnerability felt unexpected, humanizing in a way that made the grief shared, not solitary.
As the groups settled, Izuku noticed something else, both he and Kirishima were on the against side. It felt right.
Midnight clapped sharply. "Time's up! Pro side, start us off."
Iida stood immediately, adjusting his glasses with precise motion. "I believe the festival should proceed. It is deeply embedded in UA's culture and hero society's traditions. Moreover, the internship selections occur the week after, agencies rely on the event to scout talent. Cancelling would disrupt that critical pipeline."
Nods rippled through the pro side; some against-siders shifted, remembering the practical stakes.
Bakugo leaned back, smirking. "Yeah, and how the hell are they supposed to pick the best if they don't see us crush it in action?"
Midnight pointed to the against side. "Your turn."
Tsuyu stood calmly, her expression frank. "Ribbit. After the attack, that same group, or others, might target us again. They already had the confidence to hit UA once. What's stopping a repeat?"
Todoroki, from pro, responded coolly. "They'd be stupid to try. All top-ten heroes announced attendance. Security will be ironclad."
Kaminari jumped in, voice cracking slightly. "But they were stupid enough to think All Might would be at the USJ with us!"
Yaoyorozu countered smoothly. "Their goal was specifically to kill All Might."
Kirishima stood, voice firm but edged with unease. "If they were aiming that high from the start, they clearly aren't scared of the rest of us. Or any heroes showing up."
Mineta nodded vigorously. "Exactly! It's way too risky. UA could just... do something private. Internships could scout differently. Makes more sense than gambling lives."
Bakugo exploded, literally, small pops from his palms. "Quit being such wimps! You cowards wanna drop out? Fine, do it! We got picked for the top school. Can't shy away from the big leagues now just 'cause it got scary. Heroes face worse every day. Cancelling means the villains win, shows we're weak!"
Silence fell, thick and charged.
Then Izuku stood slowly, his voice trembling with emotion. "Somebody died." The words hung raw in the air. "Our classmate... Koda's gone. He's never coming back. And we had only been in school a week, we barely even got to know him." His eyes glistened, fists clenched at his sides. "I don't... I don't want to see that again. Ever."
The room stilled further. Internally, Izuku's thoughts raced, Bakugou and him... we're not close anymore. Haven't even seen each other these last two years since the move. After everything he put him through, the bullying, the pain, Izuku felt he shouldn't even care.
But... he doesn't want him dead. Not anyone.
Bakugo smirked, leaning forward. "Heard the news last night? Maybe standards should be raised. Some people in this class... really shouldn't be here."
A collective gasp rippled through the room. The air shifted, tense, accusatory.
Mineta shot up, pointing shakily at the pro side. "You guys, all have strong quirks, always succeeding easy in hero stuff. You'd never face the scrutiny we do! The hardship! The only reason you can sit comfy over there is 'cause you were born luckier than the rest of us!"
Tsuyu's eyes widened, then narrowed. Without a word, she stood abruptly, chair scraping loudly, and stormed out of the classroom, the door slamming behind her.
_____
The staff room at UA High School was a sanctuary of sorts, tucked away in the labyrinthine bowels of the main building.
Sunlight slanted through half-closed blinds, painting elongated stripes across the cluttered table laden with mugs, scattered reports, and a half-eaten box of mochi. In the center of it all sat Principal Nezu, perched on a booster seat atop a swivel chair, his tiny paws clasped thoughtfully as the interactive screen before them faded to black.
The recording of Class 1-A's debate, Midnight's impromptu exercise, had just concluded.
Midnight leaned against the counter, her whip coiled loosely in one hand, the other nursing a steaming cup. Recovery Girl sat nearby, her small frame dwarfed by the oversized armchair, cane propped against her knee. And then there was Aizawa, bandaged from head to toe like a half-unwrapped mummy, slumped in a wheelchair that creaked faintly with every shift of his weight. His eyes, barely visible through the slits in his wrappings, gleamed with their usual weary sharpness.
Nezu broke the silence first, his voice a crisp, intellectual chirp that belied his diminutive form. "An intriguing discussion, to be sure. The students presented their cases with passion and logic, admirable, given the circumstances. However, I don't see anything here that would sway my decision. The Sports Festival proceeds as planned."
Midnight set her cup down with a soft clink, her brows arching. "Even after all that? They raised valid points about safety, Nezu. We're not just putting on a show, these are kids."
Nezu tilted his head, beady eyes reflecting the screen's glow. "Ah, but it's not solely my call, Midnight. Investors, sponsors, they're adamant about maintaining the event. Cancelling would trigger a cascade of legal entanglements: breached contracts, refunded endorsements, potential lawsuits. Monetary drawbacks alone could hamstring UA's budget for years."
Midnight's lips pursed, her voice sharpening like the crack of her whip. "At the expense of the kids' safety? That's what we're weighing here?"
Nezu shook his head gently, his fur ruffling with the motion. "Not at all. Consider this, one of the students astutely mentioned the attendance of the top ten heroes. Even those who typically shun the spotlight, Wash, Crust and Mirko, they've all confirmed. It's a deliberate show of force. Moreover, ticket sales will be capped at a fraction of capacity, and I've personally funded an enhanced vetting process. No one enters with so much as a concealed pin. Weapons? Out of the question. We'll turn the venue into a fortress."
Recovery Girl harrumphed, her wrinkled face creasing further as she adjusted her glasses. "Sounds thorough enough. But where's All Might?"
Aizawa shifted in his wheelchair, the bandages rustling like dry leaves. "Handling private business. He's got his own leads to chase."
The room fell into a contemplative hush, they all knew it was about Midoriya. It was knowledge to them all that the number one hero had known the boy since before his attendance in UA, and after the incident at the USJ he only mentioned that he would like to take care of it, that it is his issue.
Aizawa spoke up, his voice gravelly but deliberate. "I still have reservations about the festival. The optics are one thing, but we can't ignore the undercurrents. There are issues we need to address internally."
Recovery Girl turned her head, her gaze piercing despite her age. "What sort of issues?"
Nezu interjected smoothly, his tail flicking with precision. "He's referring to the points raised in the debate, specifically young Bakugo's reference to that inflammatory news segment from last night. The presenter, that politician masquerading as a pundit, has been peddling the same tripe for years: elitist drivel laced with discrimination against mutants. Whether Bakugo realizes it or not, echoing those sentiments is dangerous. It's why young Asui stormed out, her quirk, her very identity, under attack in her own classroom."
Aizawa nodded, wincing slightly as the movement tugged at his bandages. "Bakugo was born with a powerhouse quirk. Studies hard, gets top grades, society's showered him with praise since day one. He can't see the flaws in that mindset because he's never had to. It's blind privilege, wrapped in bravado."
Recovery Girl's cane tapped the floor thoughtfully. "And the others?"
"Similar veins," Aizawa continued, his tone flat but unflinching. "Todoroki family elitism. Iida, from a legacy lineage, carries that weight of expectation. Yaoyorozu, born into wealth, views the world through a lens of assumed superiority. Less extreme than Bakugo, perhaps, but the roots are there: class divides, quirk hierarchies. We need to stomp it out, make sure the whole class understands it's wrong. Heroes protect everyone, not just the 'worthy.'"
Nezu hopped down from his chair with surprising agility, landing lightly on the table. "Agreed. I'll leave that to you, Aizawa, once you're mobile again. For now, I must attend to the security details. The festival will be a triumph, not a target."