Tuesday morning hit Class 1-A like a sedative. The excitement of combat training had faded into the monotony of actual school life. Izuku slouched at his desk, head propped on his hand as he watched his classmates trickle in.
Toru bounced through the doorway like caffeine made flesh, her uniform the only indication she existed at all. She spotted Izuku immediately and waved frantically.
"Midoriyaaaaa! Good morning!"
"Morning, Spotlight." He smiled lazily as she practically skipped to his desk.
"I can't believe how much homework Modern Literature assigned! Did you finish the essay on societal impacts of Quirk-based literature?"
"Mostly. I wrote that pre-Quirk authors couldn't imagine a world this weird if they tried."
"That's... actually pretty smart."
"I have my moments."
Toru leaned against his desk, her sleeve brushing his arm. "Are you free after school today? I was thinking we could—"
"Oi, Broccoli Head."
Jiro appeared beside them, headphones hanging around her neck and a scowl etched on her face. Her jacks twitched toward Izuku like they wanted to stab him.
"Morning, Compass. You look lovely and murderous today."
"Shut up." She tossed a small paper bag onto his desk. "My mom made you cookies. She won't stop talking about you since your 'not-a-date.' It's disgusting."
Izuku peeked inside the bag. "Are these chocolate chip?"
"Yes."
"Your mom is an angel."
"And you're the devil." Her jacks jabbed toward him but stopped short. "Eat them or don't. I don't care."
She stormed off to her seat, her face slightly redder than when she'd arrived.
Toru's uniform shifted. "She made you cookies?"
"Her mom did."
"That's... Jiro took you to meet her parents?"
"I met them when I picked her up for our not-a-date."
"Oh." Toru's voice sounded smaller. "I didn't realize you two were... you know."
Izuku glanced at her. "We're not anything right now. Her dad threatened me, her mom fed me, and Jiro spent the entire evening insisting she hates me."
"But she brought you cookies."
"Her mom made her."
"Right." Toru perked up visibly. "Right! Of course!"
Before the conversation could continue, the classroom door slid open, and Aizawa shuffled in looking like he'd spent the night in a dryer. His bloodshot eyes surveyed the room with their usual disdain as students scrambled to their seats.
"Morning." Aizawa's voice sounded like gravel being dragged across concrete. "Today we're making a decision that will impact the rest of your school lives."
The classroom went silent. Izuku straightened slightly in his seat. Another test? A fight to the death? Expulsion roulette?
Aizawa stared at them for three painful seconds.
"We're choosing the class representative."
"Oh thank god," Kaminari whispered from two seats over. "I thought we were going to die."
"You are all going to die eventually," Aizawa responded flatly. "Just not today in my classroom."
He took a sip from his juice pouch and continued. "The class rep position is important. You'll serve as a bridge between faculty and students, help organize class activities, and generally make my job easier. Think of it as your first taste of hero leadership."
Chaos erupted immediately.
"I'll be the rep!" Kirishima stood, punching a hardened fist into the air. "I'll lead this class with manly spirit!"
"No way!" Mina jumped up. "Pick me! I'll make sure we have actual fun!"
"Clearly, the position requires someone with organizational skills!" Iida's hand shot straight up, his arm moving like a robot's. "I, Tenya Iida, volunteer to—"
"As if any of you extras could handle it!" Bakugo slammed his palms on his desk. "I'll be the best damn rep this school's ever seen!"
"You'd murder someone on day one," Sero mumbled.
"WHAT WAS THAT, TAPE FACE?"
The shouting match escalated. Even Tsuyu raised her finger, quietly suggesting she might be suitable. Tokoyami closed his eyes in apparent meditation, while Kaminari tried to convince Yaoyorozu to vote for him with finger guns that produced actual sparks.
Izuku turned in his seat to face the student behind him. Hitomi Todoroki sat with perfect posture, her mismatched eyes regarding the chaos with cool detachment.
"Hey, what exactly does the class rep do?" Izuku asked.
Hitomi stared at him blankly, then shrugged, a nearly imperceptible motion of her shoulders.
"Very helpful, thanks."
She blinked once, slowly, like a cat deciding whether you were worth acknowledging.
Izuku turned to his other side, where Momo sat with her hand raised politely amid the shouting. Unlike the others, she wasn't yelling her qualifications.
"Yaoyorozu, what does the rep actually do? Is it worth the hassle?"
Momo lowered her hand, surprised at being addressed directly. "The class representative has numerous responsibilities. They organize class activities, relay information from teachers, represent the class at school functions, and help manage conflicts between students."
"So it's basically classroom HR?"
"That's... a simplification, but not entirely inaccurate." She straightened her already perfect posture. "The position looks excellent on hero agency applications and university transcripts. It demonstrates leadership capabilities and organizational skills that agencies value."
"Hm." Izuku considered this. If you were strong enough, job applications shouldn't matter.
All Might probably never worried about padding his resume.
But a Quirkless guy leading a class full of walking nuclear reactors? That had a certain appeal. Imagine the headlines: "QUIRKLESS STUDENT LEADS U.A.'S ELITE HERO COURSE."
Hell, it might even shut Bakugo up for five minutes.
"SILENCE!" Iida's voice cut through the cacophony, his hand chopping the air with mechanical precision. "This is unbecoming of U.A. students! We cannot simply choose based on who shouts loudest!"
The class quieted, if only out of surprise at Iida's volume.
"I propose a democratic election! Each student will vote for their preferred candidate, and the top two vote-getters will serve as representative and vice-representative!"
Aizawa, who had somehow gotten into his sleeping bag during the commotion, nodded from the floor. "Fine. Do whatever. Just be quiet about it."
"But we've only known each other a week," Tsuyu pointed out, finger touching her chin. "Won't people just vote for themselves?"
"That is precisely why this system is ideal!" Iida's glasses flashed. "Only those who have earned genuine respect will receive multiple votes!"
"Or people will vote for their friends," Jiro muttered.
"Friendship is a form of respect!" Iida insisted.
"Whatever," Bakugo growled. "Let's just vote so I can start running this place properly."
Aizawa produced a stack of paper scraps from his sleeping bag. "Write one name. Fold it once. I'll count."
Izuku tapped his pen against his desk. Who would actually be good at this job? Definitely not Bakugo, unless they wanted the classroom burned down. Iida would be efficient but would probably report them for breathing too loudly. Yaoyorozu had the brains, but seemed too uptight.
Actually... Yaoyorozu wasn't the worst choice. She was smart, responsible, and already knew all the rules. Plus, she'd handled herself well during their combat exercise.
Izuku scribbled her name and folded the paper.
After collecting all the votes, Aizawa dumped them on his desk and counted with the enthusiasm of someone sorting laundry.
"Results," he announced flatly. "Yaoyorozu: four votes. Midoriya: three votes. Everyone else: one or zero."
He pointed to the front of the classroom. "Congratulations. You two are in charge now. Front and center, both of you."
Momo stood gracefully and walked to the front of the class. Izuku followed with considerably less enthusiasm, scanning the room for the ones who'd voted for him.
Toru's uniform was practically vibrating with excitement. Uraraka beamed at him with unabashed pride. And Jiro... was staring very intently at her desk, her jacks wrapping around her finger like she was trying to look busy.
Ah. Mystery solved.
"Thank you all for your votes," Momo said formally, bowing slightly. "I'm honored to serve as your class representative."
All eyes turned to Izuku.
"Uh, yeah. Thanks, I guess." He shrugged. "I'll try not to get us all killed."
"Such inspiring leadership," Aizawa mumbled from the floor. "Now sit down and let me sleep until next period."
As they returned to their seats, Izuku caught Jiro watching him. She quickly looked away, but not before her jacks betrayed her by pointing directly at him.
"Hey, Compass," he whispered as he passed her desk. "Nice voting strategy."
"I didn't vote for you," she hissed, though her pink cheeks told a different story.
"Sure you didn't."
"I hate you."
"No you don't." He smiled as her jacks snapped up in frustration.
Back at his desk, Toru leaned over. "Congratulations, Vice President Midoriya!"
"Thanks. Did you vote for me too?"
"Of course! You'll be amazing!"
On his other side, Uraraka turned with a bright smile. "I knew you'd make a great leader, Deku!"
"Deku?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Oh!" Her hands flew to her mouth. "I heard Bakugo call you that, and I thought... it sounds like 'dekiru'—like 'you can do it!' It's cute!"
Behind them, Bakugo made a choking sound.
"It's actually an insult," Izuku explained. "It means useless."
"That's terrible!" Uraraka looked genuinely distressed. "I'm so sorry!"
"Don't be. I like how you say it better."
Her face flushed pink. "Really?"
"Really. Deku sounds much nicer when it's coming from a pretty girl."
The pink deepened to crimson, and she spun back to face forward so quickly she nearly gave herself whiplash.
Three for three. Not bad for a Tuesday morning.
At the front of the room, Momo watched this exchange with an expression Izuku couldn't quite read. When their eyes met, she didn't look away, simply raising one perfect eyebrow as if to say, "Really? All three of them?"
Izuku smiled back innocently.
Being vice president was going to be interesting.
"Your first task," Aizawa announced from his yellow cocoon, "is to select room cleaning duties for the week. Figure it out quietly. I'm taking a nap."
And just like that, the most important decision that would dictate the rest of their school lives was delegated to the student government.
Izuku slouched back in his seat. Just normal school stuff after all.
Except nothing at U.A. stayed normal for long.