#explosion twins

The only time you had ever actually argued with katsuki was when he was bullying Midoriya about being quirkless. You had stood up for the boy, not because you were freinds, but because you couldn't just watch someone get bullied, especially by your own brother. Apart from that you and Katsuki were joined at the hip (not literally).

Quirk;

Your quirk is very similar to your brothers but more destructive and has more aspects. Unlike Katsuki's, you can use your quirk from both your hands and feet.

Core Ability:

You sweat a similar nitroglycerin-like substance, but your body produces a more volatile, high-yield compound that reacts even more violently. Unlike Katsuki, who detonates in bursts, your explosions are sustained, amplified, and chain-reactive—think blast waves, firestorms, and shockwave tunnels.

How It's More Destructive:

Chain Combustion: One explosion automatically sets off mini-detonations in a cascading wave. You can level multiple buildings with a single move.

Thermal Burst: Your explosions generate extreme heat—you can melt steel and turn the battlefield into scorched earth.

Explosion Field: You can create a zone of continuous micro-blasts around your body—pure destruction in all directions.

Burnout Mode: When pushed to the edge, you enter a state where your whole body becomes a living bomb, emitting unstable energy until you either black out or intentionally stop it.

Personality

You are, calculating, and sometimes even sadistic—you are someone who understands the magnitude of your power and doesn’t use it lightly. Where Bakugou is "I’ll blow you up", you're more "I’ll erase you." You don't just destroy; you demolish with precision and finality.            You are also a lot calmer than your brother, you don't scream, but you're not exactly nice either.

Aizawa—our ever-watchful, always-half-asleep mentor—was exactly where I expected: curled up in a nest of capture tape, coffee in one hand, graded papers in the other, eyes scanning the page with surgical boredom.

“No.”

“I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“You didn’t need to. I know your face. That’s a ‘please let me do something stupid’ face.”

I strode in and flopped on the couch across from him. “Okay, yes, stupid adjacent. Not, like, full stupid. I’m not jumping off a roof. I just want to meet someone.”

“Who?”

“Who?”

I coughed into my sleeve. “Shiggy.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shigaraki Tomura,” I said. “A.K.A. Handface. A.K.A. Childhood friend, part-time gremlin, current leader of the League of Villains, and professional skin exfoliator.”

Aizawa stared at me like I’d just asked to adopt a chainsaw.

“No.”

“Oh come on. He said public place. One hour. No League weirdness. He promised.”

“He also promised to destroy hero society, but sure, let’s trust his pinky swear.”

I crossed my arms. “I’ll have my phone on. GPS. Open comms. I’m not gonna join the League and run away into the sewers. I just want to talk to him. You know, classic childhood reunion but with more security risk.”

Aizawa groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Why are all my students like this?”

“Because you’re a magnet for chaos. Embrace it.”

Silence. Just enough of it to give me hope.

He sat up slowly like a very tired cryptid emerging from hibernation. “One hour. You stay visible. One weird move, and I send Takami in with tranquilizer darts.”

“Yay,” I chirped. “Thanks, sensei.”

“I’m not saying this because I trust him,” Aizawa muttered. “I’m saying it because you’ll probably go anyway and I don’t feel like chasing you through Musutafu.”

He had a point.

As I reached our natural meeting point- the old shrine that was abandonned since the 16th century- I saw him.

Curled like a depressed raccoon on top of a bench. Hoodie up, posture garbage, glaring at a bag of pigeons like he was about to fight them for turf.

“Oi, Shiggy,” I called. “Still rocking that Hot Topic cryptid vibe, I see.”

He didn’t even flinch. “You’re late.”

“It’s been one minute. Relax.”

“I don’t can't relax,” he said. “Last time I relaxed, Dabi set a mailbox on fire and blamed me.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

I sat beside him like a normal person while he remained perched like a gargoyle in a hoodie.

He side-eyed me. “You got taller.”

“You got worse posture.”

We fell into a rhythm. Weird, but familiar. Like finding an old hoodie in the back of your closet and realizing it still kind of fits.

“So,” he said. “How's hero school going?”

"Oh, you mean since you kdnapped me and my brother at the training facility, while your master revealed the biggest secret of the ex Symbol of Peace and nearly killed my twin at the same time? Yeah, I'd say it's been good."

Shiggy froze like I’d slapped him with a wet sock. “...You gonna hold that against me forever?”

I gave him a long look. “You dropped Suki off a tower.”

“It was, like, barely a tower.”

“Shiggy.”

“Okay, okay! Fine. Tower. Pointy. Tall. Almost a pancake situation. My bad.”

I folded my arms. “Your bad?”

He scratched his neck awkwardly. “Look, in my defense—which I realize is thin and made entirely out of villain logic—I was going through some things.”

“You’re still going through things. Like a midlife crisis but with more hand accessories.”

Shiggy glanced down at the hand on his lap like he just remembered it existed. “Touché.”

A pigeon waddled too close and he glared it away with such intensity it literally changed direction.

I sighed. “Honestly, I’m not here to roast you. Not entirely.”

“Oh?”

I shrugged. “Just wanted to see if you were still... you. Somewhere under all the weird League drama and crusty gamer energy.”

He blinked at me. “Still me,” he said. “Just with more reasons for therapy now.”

“Join the club,” I muttered.

Then, softer: “You scared the hell out of me back then. Not just ‘cause of what you did. But because I saw how far you’d let it go. You used to care. Even when you were annoying. You gave a damn.”

Shiggy didn’t answer right away. He picked at the cuff of his sleeve like it was the most interesting thing on the planet.

Finally, he mumbled, “Still do. Sometimes.”

That, weirdly, was enough.

I leaned back on the bench and stared up at the sky. “Cool. Just don’t go full Voldemort and I won’t have to tackle you off a building.”

He tilted his head, "The noseless guy you love to hate so much?"

I snorted. “Yeah, that one. Bald. Snake man. Big on murder, light on moisturizer.”

Shiggy squinted. “I thought his whole thing was like… magical racism?”

“Exactly. That’s the vibe you’re giving off when you start monologuing and dusting people.”

He groaned and flopped back against the bench like I’d personally insulted his game stats. “I’m not that dramatic.”

I raised a brow. “You wear hand jewelry as a fashion statement and dramatically float down from rooftops.”

“I do not float.”

“Bro, I’ve seen you do the evil anime landing. You pose.”

Shiggy looked personally offended. “It’s for intimidation!”

“It’s for drama.” I jabbed a finger at his hoodie. “That ratty thing has more backstory than most TV villains.”

He glared at me, muttering, “I like this hoodie…”

“Dude, it’s older than our friendship and definitely haunted.”

He stared at me for a second too long… then muttered, “...It has been creaking lately.”

I broke into laughter. “You’re a walking horror movie with commitment issues.”

He grumbled something that sounded like “I hope your next rice ball is full of wasabi,” but I was too busy wiping tears of laughter from my eyes.

When the silence came back, it felt different—lighter somehow.

More like a weirdly cozy nightmare than a cold one.

And honestly, that was kind of perfect for us.

You know how I said I'd be out for an hour?

Yeahhhhhh, I lied.

I was out for the whole day. And now it's currently 8:34 and I'm walking back to the dorms with Keigo at my side.

He looked way too casual for someone escorting a teenager who’d just spent the entire day hanging out with a wanted villain.

Keigo shoved his hands in his pockets and whistled low. “You really know how to give a pro hero a heart attack, kid.”

“Technically, you volunteered to tag along once you found me.”

He shot me a sideways look. “Only because Aizawa was five seconds away from dragging out the search dogs.”

I winced. “Okay, maybe I should’ve texted.”

Keigo snorted. “Understatement of the century. You disappeared, didn’t answer your phone, and reappeared in public surveillance footage next to Shigaraki. You wanna guess how many agencies pinged my phone?”

“Uhh… less than five?”

He gave me a look that screamed you are absolutely grounded and I don’t even live with you.

I groaned and flopped my head back as we walked. “I swear, we just talked. It wasn’t even villain-y. No explosions. No threats. Just… messed up jokes and passive-aggressive hoodie judging.”

He smirked. “Sounds like love.”

I gagged. “Gross.”

We reached the gates of the dorms, looming and far too quiet.

I glanced up at Keigo. “Think he’s still mad?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “He’s already halfway into the dad squint. You’ve got ten seconds before he’s out here with the scarf.”

“Cool cool cool. Love that. My funeral will be tomorrow. Tell Suki he can have my playlist.”

“Can I have your snacks?”

“You already do.”

He grinned. “Fair.”

Then the doors opened—Aizawa standing there, scarf wrapped, hair already starting to float.

I elbowed Keigo hard. “You said ten seconds!”

“Oops,” he said, totally unbothered. “Guess I miscounted.”

Aizawa stepped forward like the Grim Reaper in house slippers.

Arms crossed. Hair floating. Scarf swishing ominously even though there was no wind.

Keigo instantly stepped back like he was just visiting. “Welp. That’s my cue to go. Good luck, kid.”

“You traitor,” I hissed, grabbing his sleeve.

He finger-gunned at me. “You’re strong. You’ll survive.”

“Barely!”

But he was already gone. Literally gone. Like wings-out, sky-bound, vanished-in-two-seconds gone.

Leaving me. Alone. In the death stare.

Aizawa didn’t say anything at first. He just stared.

The stare.

You know the one. That "I’ve been mentally drafting your obituary all day" stare.

“…Hi,” I tried.

Nothing.

I cleared my throat. “Soooo... you look... well. Nice scarf.”

Still nothing.

Okay. Time to try logic. “Look, I know what you’re thinking. But technically, I didn’t break any rules. No destruction of property. No fighting. No crime. No harboring a known villain. No contact was made via villain channels, and I was monitored by a pro hero—Keigo—for, like, the last three hours! That’s practically supervised visitation!”

Silence.

I winced. “Okay, yes, I lied about the one-hour thing, but I had to make sure he wasn’t gonna pull something sketchy and vanish before we could actually talk. You know how Shiggy is. Like a trash raccoon in a hoodie.”

Still silence.

Then:

“Inside.”

Two syllables. Zero emotion. Maximum threat.

I bolted inside.

He followed at the speed of slow judgment. Like he had all the time in the world to make me regret every decision I’ve ever made.

Once we hit the hallway, I turned around, walking backward like a human excuse generator. “Seriously, I’m fine. Nothing happened. I didn’t even touch him. We sat in a public park on a very breakable bench.”

Lies. So many lies.

Aizawa finally stopped. And said, very slowly, “You. Are grounded.”

I froze. “Wait. Can you even do that? You’re not my—”

His eyes glowed red.

“…Grounded. Super grounded. Grounded like old coffee beans. Got it.”

He nodded once. “Three days. No solo training. No phone past curfew. And don’t even think about leaving the building unless it’s with a teacher.”

I opened my mouth.

He raised a finger. “Don’t.”

Mouth closed.

As he walked away, muttering something about "adopting another problem child," I exhaled dramatically and leaned against the wall.

“…Worth it,” I mumbled.

From the hallway, I heard someone shout, “YOU’RE BACK?!”

Suki.

Here we go.

I peeled myself off the wall and trudged toward the common room like a soldier returning from war. Suki was already halfway there, storming down the hall with his usual explosion-waiting-to-happen vibe.

He jabbed a finger at me the second we were shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Where the hell were you?” he demanded, voice low but sharp.

I raised my hands, palms up. “Out. With a pro hero. Supervised. No rules broken.”

“Yeah, well, when you vanish for almost ten hours and don’t answer your phone, I start thinking you’re dead in a ditch somewhere!”

“You think everyone is dead in a ditch when they’re five minutes late.”

He scoffed but didn’t deny it. “Still. Not cool.”

I sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. Aizawa already threw the Grim Reaper routine at me, no need to pile on.”

We turned the corner and stepped into the common room, which was dimly lit but still alive with scattered voices and the soft glow of the TV. A couple of students looked up when we entered—Tsu curled up on the couch, Kaminari halfway through a bag of chips, Jirou tuning her guitar.

“You okay?” Tsu asked, blinking slowly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Suki gave me a look but kept quiet—for now. I made a beeline for the couch and collapsed with a groan. He flopped down next to me with a grumble.

“Rough day?” Kaminari asked, pausing mid-chip.

“You have no idea.”

Sho wasn’t in the room—thankfully. After last night’s argument, I wasn’t really in the mood to have Round Two of “Why Your Friend Is A Menace.” Especially not while still emotionally sunburned from my talk with Shiggy.

I stared up at the ceiling for a second.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about him.

Jirou raised an eyebrow. “You missed movie night.”

“Gasp. Tragedy.”

Kaminari grinned. “We voted without you, so we ended up watching that awful horror sequel you hate.”

I turned my head slowly. “The one with the haunted ice cream truck?”

He nodded proudly. “Yup. And it was just as terrible as you said it’d be.”

I covered my face with a groan. “I suffer for your sins.”

Someone else came in through the side door—Yaoyorozu, holding a tray of tea. She offered me a cup wordlessly.

“Thanks,” I said, voice half-muffled by the couch cushions.

“You looked like you needed it.”

Suki nudged me with his foot. “Seriously though. You okay?”

I hesitated.

Just a second too long.

His eyes narrowed. “Spit it out.”

I peeked at him through my fingers. “Spit what out?”

Suki leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice dropping low. “You’ve got that face. The ‘I did something real dumb and I’m trying to act normal’ face.”

“I do not have a face for that.”

“Yeah, you do. It's your default.”

I groaned louder, flopping sideways on the couch like a tragic Shakespeare character. “Why do you know me?”

“Because we shared a womb, dumbass.”

Kaminari made a soft oof sound from the floor. “That was... intense.”

Yaoyorozu quietly sipped her tea, politely pretending not to witness the sibling drama unraveling in real time.

Suki nudged me again, more pointed this time. “You gonna talk or am I dragging it out of you by force?”

I sat up, brushed hair from my face, and met his suspicious glare head-on.

“I went out.”

Suki’s brow twitched. “Yeah, no duh. I figured that part out, Sherlock. Where did you go?”

I scratched the back of my neck and offered my most unconvincing smile. “Out. With an old friend.”

He narrowed his eyes like he could physically peel the answer off me. “You keep this up and I will call in a search warrant and a shovel.”

Kaminari, still horizontal on the beanbag, gave a sleepy thumbs-up. “I’ll help dig.”

“You’re all so supportive,” I muttered.

Yaoyorozu glanced over her book, serene as always. “You could simply tell him, you know.”

I looked at her. “You too, Momo?”

She shrugged. “I’m just saying, it seems like he’s not going to drop this.”

Suki folded his arms, scowl deepening. “So are you gonna tell me who this mysterious ‘old friend’ is, or do I need to waterboard it out of you with Momo’s tea?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I absolutely would.”

“Okay, fine!” I threw up my hands. “You wanna know? I went out. To talk. To someone who knows some stuff I needed to hear.”

“Who?” he demanded. “Who knows that kind of ‘stuff’ and isn’t a teacher or, I dunno, someone legal?”

I pressed my lips together, brain scrambling.

“...A guy. An old family friend.”

Suki blinked. “You don’t have old family friends. Our family is like... a demolition site with sarcasm issues.”

“Okay, rude but not inaccurate.”

“Who is he?”

“Just—someone from before U.A. Okay? It’s not like I invited a League member to brunch.”

“Now you’re just being suspicious on purpose.”

I smacked the pillow next to me. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“No. I’m like a suspicious raccoon with a grudge.”

“And the vocabulary of a street goblin,” I muttered.

“I heard that.”

I sighed dramatically, sinking back into the cushions like gravity had doubled. “Can’t a girl have one emotionally complicated, morally gray moment in peace?”

“Not when it involves sneaking out and being shady.”

I glanced over at Momo, who was now calmly pretending to read upside down.

Kaminari blinked blearily. “Wait. It was a boy?”

I turned my head toward him slowly. “Sleep. Now. Or I will glue your eyebrows to your kneecaps.”

“…Noted.”

Suki threw his hands up. “Haru. Come on.”

I looked at him, finally serious. “I swear—I didn’t do anything dangerous. I didn’t betray anyone. I didn’t break the law. But I needed answers, and I got them. That’s all.”

He stared at me for a long beat, jaw tight.

Then he scoffed. “You better not be dating a villain.”

I choked on my tea.

Kaminari sat up with alarming speed. “Wait, are you dating a villain?!”

“NO!” I yelled. “Why is that everyone’s first thought?!”

Yaoyorozu finally spoke again, without looking up. “Because you’re being extremely suspicious.”

“…Fair.”

Suki grumbled something and slumped more into the couch next to me, arms crossed and fuming.

We sat there in mutual dramatic silence for a while.

Finally, he muttered under his breath, “Still gonna find out. Just so you know.”

“I would expect nothing less,” I mumbled back, sipping my tea like it could hide my entire past.

Kaminari whispered from the corner, “It’s totally a villain.”

“GO TO BED, KAMI.”

I shut the door behind me with a soft click and let my forehead rest against it. The wood was cool against my skin—probably because I’d been radiating heat all day from stress and the literal interrogation downstairs.

God. I needed a nap. Or a snack. Or a black hole to vanish into.

I sighed, turned, and flopped onto my bed face-first, muffling a long groan into my pillow.

Naturally, that was when someone knocked on the door.

I didn’t move. “If it’s Suki, tell him I joined the League just to spite him.”

Another knock. More hesitant this time.

I rolled over and dragged myself upright. “Coming, coming, calm your moral compass.”

When I opened the door, Sho was standing there—hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable, expression... complicated.

“…Hey,” he said quietly.

Oh.

That kind of conversation.

I stepped aside.

He walked in slowly, and I shut the door behind him. He didn’t sit, just stood there for a second like he wasn’t sure if he’d made a mistake.

I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting.

“Were you… with Yoarashi today?” he asked, after a pause.

“No,” I said, gently but firmly. “This wasn’t about him.”

Sho looked down, exhaled through his nose, and finally leaned back against the wall, arms folded. “Then was it… because of me?”

I blinked. “What?”

He glanced over at me, jaw tight. “Because of what I said. How we left things. I thought maybe you needed space.”

Oh.

My chest tugged a little at the edges.

“No,” I said. “Well—yes. Kind of. But not in the way you think.”

I need to stop talking.

His brow furrowed.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “I just needed to breathe. Not because of what you said, but because of what it made me realize.”

“…Which was?”

“That everything’s complicated and everyone’s breaking in their own way, and somehow we’re all still expected to play hero like we’re fine.”

He looked down again.

“I wasn’t mad at you, Sho,” I added quietly. “I mean, I was. But not in the way that would last. You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to not like him. I just…” I let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did. I was defending someone I barely even know instead of you."

I wasn't actually defending him but lets not say that.

Sho didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the floor like it had personally betrayed him.

Finally, he said, “You were being honest. Even if it sucked to hear.”

I looked up at him. “It did suck. And I still said it. I shouldn’t have. Not like that.”

He shifted his weight a little, arms still folded. “You were trying to make a point.”

“Yeah, and I made it with a sledgehammer.” I let my forehead drop against my knees. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Sho.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, softly:

“You didn’t.”

I looked up again.

“You just… hit a part of me I don’t like looking at,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “I’m not mad at you, Haru. I’m mad at me. At him. At the whole situation.”

That weird ache settled back in my chest.

“I just want you to know,” he added, finally meeting my eyes, “you don’t have to pick sides. Even if it feels like you do.”

“I don’t want there to be sides,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “I just want people to stop blowing each other up in the middle of rescue missions.”

Sho gave a dry chuckle.

We fell quiet again. Not tense this time—just tired. Worn-out in that shared, end-of-the-world way only teenagers pretending to be adults could manage.

“You’re still my person, you know,” I said, voice soft.

He didn’t smile, but his shoulders eased. “You’re mine too.”

Then he sat down beside me on the bed and bumped his knee lightly against mine.

I smiled and tackled him to the bed, giving him a kiss on the lips.

He blinked in surprise—then kissed me back, slow and a little stunned, like he was still catching up to the moment.

When we finally pulled apart, Sho let out a soft breath. “Okay. Not how I thought tonight would go.”

I grinned, still half-flopped on top of him. “What, you didn’t expect a full emotional breakdown and a makeout session?”

His lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. “Should’ve seen it coming, honestly.”

We lay there for a second longer, tangled in blankets and feelings. It was the kind of silence that didn’t demand anything. Just existed. Safe and warm.

Then he glanced sideways at me. “You’re still gonna get me in trouble someday.”

“Probably.” I nudged him gently. “But you love it.”

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Unfortunately.”

But he didn’t move. And neither did I.

After the Silence

We said too much, or not enough, Our hearts grew sharp, our voices rough. The space between became a wall— Too wide to cross, too steep to fall.

But time, it softens jagged things, And love still hums beneath the wings Of broken words and heavy sighs, Of stubborn pride and downcast eyes.

You looked at me, I looked at you— No grand apology, just truth. A reaching hand, a softened tone, Two people tired of being alone.

Todoroki? Somehow got quieter and louder at the same time. Less ice, more fire. And not just his quirk—he actually laughed now. Once. I saw it. It was weird. But also kind of nice.

As for me?

I didn’t die. Which, let’s be honest, was already an achievement considering my track record.

My quirk was sharper. Training was tougher. I stopped skipping cardio (mostly). I even passed the last round of field assessments without blowing anything up that I wasn’t supposed to.

And yeah—I still mouthed off to Endeavor every chance I got. Some things never change.

But I guess the biggest shift was this:

We weren’t just classmates anymore. We were teammates. Battle-tested. Bonded. Bloodied and bruised, but better for it.

And somehow, that made the world feel a little less terrifying.

Even when the next storm was already on the horizon.

Oh.

And did I mention I'm dating Todoroki now? Yeah, now I call him Sho. Or sometimes Todo, or—when I’m feeling especially flirty—hot stuff.

He pretends to hate that one, but I’ve seen the way his ears turn red. He’s lucky he’s cute. And patient. And literally freezes my water bottles when I forget to put them in the fridge. Which is often.

And thank god he does, cuz I can not for the life of me drink a warm or hot drink while literally running hot.

It wasn’t some big, dramatic confession either. No explosions, no love letters, no life-or-death epiphanies. One day, we were training together, and I shoved him into a snowbank for being smug. He pulled me in after him, we were laughing, and then suddenly… we weren’t.

I kissed him. He kissed me back. And that was that.

Now he holds my hand under the lunch table. He steals the pickled radish off my plate. He walks me home when we stay too late in the library. And when my nightmares come back—because yeah, they still do sometimes—he just sits with me in the quiet, like he knows.

So yeah.

I didn’t die. I’m dating Todoroki. My quirk hasn’t exploded a classroom in two whole months.

Me and Suki train together every morning from 6 to 7 before getting ready for classes at 8. We talk a lot more now.

Especially after the whole Leugue of Villains kidnapping us and All Might being revealed in his weak form after fighting that faceless guy.

eah. That changed everything.

The League of Villains showed up like a goddamn nightmare we couldn’t wake up from. One second, it was a summer training camp. The next, it was screaming, smoke, blood, and chaos. They took a lot from us. Time. Safety. Confidence.

That night, I saw things I don’t think I’ll ever forget. The way Kacchan looked, tied up and spitting rage. The way All Might fought like the world was ending—because in a way, it was.

And then his voice—raspy, barely hanging on—as he pointed at the camera and smiled. “Now it’s your turn.”

We all knew what that meant.

Well me more than others, since he was technically just talking to Broccoli.

Even before the press broke the story. Even before UA locked down like a fortress and the adults started looking at us like porcelain dolls instead of students.

All Might was done.

And the rest of us had to grow up fast.

Suki's still loud. Still angry. Still annoying as hell. But there’s something different now. Some weight behind his punches. Something quieter in his eyes when the shouting stops.

Maybe it’s grief. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe it’s both.

Either way, I get it.

So we keep showing up. We train. We fight. We move forward.

Because we have to.

And because All Might’s not here to carry the world anymore.

All things considered?

I’m doing pretty damn okay.

As well as nervous since we'll be getting our provisional liscencing exams soon. 

And by soon I mean as soon as this sleep-deprived junk of a stick is done yapping and lets us get to it.

A pause.

Then a throat cleared.

“Just for the record,” said the very-much-awake exam proctor standing at the front of the massive testing hall, “the ‘sleep-deprived stick’ is a retired pro hero and can still flatten a cocky student with a flick of his finger.”

I straightened in my seat and smiled thinly. “Right. Of course. Much respect, sir.”

Behind me, Kaminari choked on a laugh. Sero elbowed him.

“You’re gonna get us banned before we even step into the exam floor,” Suki muttered, arms crossed beside me, brow furrowed. She was already halfway in battle mode.

“I’d like to see them try,” I mumbled back, flicking the edge of my exam badge. “We’re already here.”

The proctor let the silence linger long enough to sting. Then he finally continued.

“You are here today because your instructors have deemed you ready. But the Hero Commission does not hand out licenses like candy. You must prove your ability, coordination, judgment, and restraint in a high-pressure environment.”

He glanced around the hall, eyes sharp despite the deep bags beneath them.

“Many of you will fail.”

Kirishima let out a quiet exhale beside Suki. “No pressure, huh?”

“No pressure,” I agreed, popping my neck.

The proctor raised a hand. “The first stage will begin in ten minutes. Please proceed through the doors to your assigned waiting rooms. And good luck—you're going to need it. And try not to insult any more staff please. We aren't paid enough to be doing this."

As the crowd began to shift, Sho moved to my side, expression calm but focused. “Try not to pick a fight before the buzzer sounds.”

“No promises,” I said, grinning.

He shook his head but didn’t hide the smirk. He pressed a kiss to my cheek and as the walls of the halls dropped, signalling the start of the exams, 

Suki bumped my shoulder lightly. “You ready?”

I took a breath, cracked my knuckles, and smiled. “I was born ready.”

Uggghhhgggggggghhhgggggggggghhhhhgggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhgggggghhhhhhghhhhhhgggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I threw my head back and groaned loud enough to scare the pigeons off the roof. I hate this.

The exam had barely started, and already the group was splintering like a shattered plate.

Suki and Sho? Ran off within the first thirty seconds—something about “I work better alone.” Sharky and Dumb Zap obviously followed Suki like lost ducklings in a storm.

And me?

Of course I dipped too. It would’ve been stupid to stay. Painful, even.

Broccoli—sweet, naïve, sunshine-child Broccoli—tried arguing the “power of teamwork” and “strength in unity” like he was giving a TED Talk.

But I begged to differ.

“If we all stayed together, we’d all fail,” I told him flatly before peeling off into the left corridor. “Not ‘cause we’re weak—hell no—but because everyone and their grandma watched the Sports Festival.”

And that meant they knew us. Knew our quirks. Knew our tells.

If we rolled up as a squad, we’d be a walking highlight reel. A juicy, glittery target with a neon sign that read PLEASE AMBUSH US NOW.

Nah. Not happening.

I kept my footsteps light, ducking low behind a concrete slab as a team of four zipped past overhead. Blue uniforms. Rain-type quirk. I made a mental note and kept moving.

I spotted a group of students huddled in a corner, probably strategizing.

They don't seem to be alert and from where I'm hidden, they won't see me until I attack.

Right, I an do this. Just three targets.

I steadied my breathing.

Right foot forward. Left arm loose. Red bouncy balls gripped tight between my fingers—primed and pulsing with heat just beneath the surface.

Just three targets. Easy.

I narrowed my eyes, watching them from my perch behind the rubble. One was fiddling with their bracelet. Another leaned too far into the corner, back exposed. The third kept glancing at their teammates instead of their surroundings.

Amateurs.

I took one silent step forward, crouched low, and—

Flicked the first ball.

They jolted, scattering instantly. But I was already moving.

Ball two slammed into the foot of the bracelet kid—he stumbled, yelped, and tripped right into the second trap I’d set: a cluster of smaller flash-bangs I’d rigged together before the exam started. I knew I’d need them.

Pop-pop-CRACK.

They didn’t know what hit them.

I vaulted over the low barricade, slammed another ball into the side of the second target’s leg, and tagged their vest with another ball just before they hit the ground.

Two down.

The last one turned, mouth open to scream or warn or do something, but I was already in front of him.

“Hi,” I grinned. “Bye.”

flicked the ball straight to his chest—boop—and it lit up red.

Three confirmed hits.

I exhaled slowly, letting the adrenaline settle for just a second.

Then I was off again, vanishing into the chaos so I could settle in the waiting area for my classmates.

I leaned back on the bench, arms crossed behind my head as I stared up at the ceiling, catching my breath. One leg bounced from leftover nerves. Or maybe anticipation.

“Come on, Sho. Suki.” I muttered, eyes scanning the entrance. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

.

.

.

They made me wait too long. I was suprisingly one of the first few to finish the first half of the exam. The first person being Yoarashi Inasa. Eliminating over a 100 people in the first 20 minutes. Show-off.

Suki showed up with Sharky and Dumb zap trailing behind him like he was the queen of destruction and they were his court jesters. He gave me a sharp glare and flopped into the seat beside me without a word, panting just a little.

Sho wasn’t far behind. He looked like he hadn’t broken a sweat, which was infuriating. He sat on my other side and handed me a water bottle like I hadn’t just been waiting here for almost an hour and a half.

“Was it that bad out there?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Took longer than I wanted,” he said simply and leaned his head on my shoulder.

Translation: he got swarmed by half a class and still walked out clean.

Broccoli finally stumbled in along with the rest of the class, looking like he’d gone ten rounds with the concept of gravity itself. Iida came in not long after, muttering about “efficiency” and “mid-battle ethics” like anyone cared.

We’d made it through the first trial.

And....

Now it's time for the second trial.

Rescue.

Ugh. My least favorite part. Not because I didn’t care or whatever—obviously I did—but because this part was all performance. Smile for the pretend-civilians. Coordinate with strangers. Prioritize. De-escalate. Talk nice.

Basically, all the things I sucked at.

The disaster zone spread out in front of us like some post-apocalyptic movie set. Collapsed buildings. Smoke. Screaming civilians. Cracked pavement and scattered debris like the sky had caved in.

A loudspeaker crackled overhead.

“BEGIN PHASE TWO: URBAN DISASTER. Civilians in need of immediate assistance are scattered across the test zone. Injured, panicked, and in danger. Heroes, respond accordingly.”

I rolled my neck, cracked my knuckles, and muttered, “Time to go save some crash-test dummies.”

Suki was already pacing like a caged animal, scanning the ruins with narrowed eyes. Sho stood calm beside him, but I could tell from the tightness in his jaw that his brain was already running disaster math. They were both all but vibrating with the urge to move.

I darted ahead, faster than they expected. “See you in the smoke, boys.”

A little girl sat crying under a beam near the wreckage of a faux shopping center. I crouched low, gentle.

“Hey, you okay?” I asked, voice softer than usual.

She looked up at me, sniffling. “My… my leg hurts…”

I scanned her leg—fake blood, twisted angle, nothing I couldn’t work with.

“All right. I’m gonna get you out. It’s gonna be fine, promise.”

I scooped her up gently, careful not to jostle her fake injury too much. She clung to my jacket. And when I brought her back to the med tent?

The “civilian” evaluator gave me a nod. “Efficient, clear communication. Good rescue posture.”

I blinked. “...Thanks?”

Guess I can play nice sometimes.

But this wasn’t over. Not even close. More cries echoed from deeper in the rubble. I glanced toward the noise—and saw a collapsed overpass teetering dangerously, a crowd of ‘injured civilians’ beneath it.

Oh hell.

Here we go again.

I took off at a sprint, vaulting over a cracked divider and sliding under a bent steel beam. Smoke stung my eyes, and I yanked my collar up to cover my mouth as I got closer. The scene was chaos—props or not.

A few test actors were sprawled beneath the overpass, “injured,” while another waved frantically.

“Help! Please, the structure’s unstable—!”

“Yeah, no kidding,” I muttered, eyes flicking upward.

The top section of the overpass groaned under its own weight. Any wrong move could bring it all down. I could already see one of the supporting joints cracking.

I slid next to the man pretending to be pinned. “Where are you hurt?”

He pointed to his shoulder and leg—props again, but meant to simulate fracture points. I assessed fast.

“Right. I’m getting you out, but you have to stay still. Got it?”

He nodded. I moved behind him, wedged my arms underneath his, and slowly started dragging him back. It wasn’t elegant—but it was fast. My quirk hummed in my fingertips, ready just in case something snapped.

I got him out just as the overpass groaned again—and then came the real problem.

The second support gave out.

I turned just in time to see the whole thing start to tilt, dust and debris spilling.

And then: a wall of ice.

Sho.

He skidded into place with that calm fury he always carried, hand outstretched, half his side already freezing over with frost as the ice slammed into position, reinforcing the crumbling support beam just long enough to finish evacuations.

“You’re late,” I huffed, panting.

“You ran ahead,” he replied coolly.

I tch'ed“Excuses, excuses”

But he reached out, brushed a speck of dirt from my cheek with his thumb. “You okay?”

My heart did a flip-flop. “Tired. But yeah.”

More students poured into the scene—some helpful, some absolutely floundering. But I spotted Suki immediately. He wasn’t bothering with politeness. Just yelling orders at people who’d frozen up, dragging a collapsed “civilian” out with one arm, explosions popping like punctuation.

“You’re doing it wrong! Move your damn legs—left, then right—how hard is that?!”

“You make a terrifying EMT,” I called out.

He scowled. “Shut it.”

But I caught the twitch of a smirk.

We regrouped near the edge of the rubble as more teams took over. The area was stabilizing. Smoke clearing.

Sho looked toward the scoreboard. “That should be enough for phase two.”

“Let’s hope so,” I said, dropping to sit against a concrete slab. “Because if I have to save one more dude named ‘Mr. Wobbly Knees,’ I might actually pass out.”

Spoiler; it was not.

I'm done. 

Absolutely done.

Not only was the rescuing not the only part of phase 2, but we also had to fight 'villains'.

They didn’t tell us there’d be combat during the rescue phase. Which is just rude, honestly.

I barely had time to catch my breath before the air shifted—thick with pressure, with intent. The fake sirens blared louder, and then over the loudspeaker came the worst words known to man:

“New threat detected. Villains have entered the disaster zone.”

Oh, great.

I stood up just in time to see Gang Orca himself striding out of the smoke like a final boss. His cronies moved in formation behind him—uniform, disciplined, massive. One of them growled. Actually growled.

“Awesome,” I muttered. “More trauma. Just what I needed.”

“Separate the defenders!” Gang Orca barked, voice booming over the chaos. “Prioritize interrupting rescue efforts!”

I bolted left on instinct, hurling myself behind a flipped transport van for cover. A blast of water from one of the goons sliced where I’d just been.

Suki launched straight in without hesitation, explosions snapping around his fists like fireworks on steroids. “Let’s fucking go!”

Sho was more calculated—he iced two opponents to the pavement in one smooth sweep, then turned toward Gang Orca himself. “I’ll slow him down. You cover the civilians!”

Just as he was about to move though, a student whireled in and attacked the whale guy (Gang Orca), surrounding him with a turnado of wind, sand and debris.

Inasa Yoarashi.

Ughhhhhhhhhhhh.

This isn't gonna go well.

Of course it was Yoarashi.

I groaned out loud, ducking as another blast of pressurized air shot right over my head. “Does this guy ever chill?”

“Apparently not,” Sho muttered, watching with thinly veiled irritation as Inasa whipped the battlefield into a full-blown sandstorm. “He’s disrupting everyone’s aim.”

“No kidding.” I swiped grit out of my eye and spat out what was probably half a desert. “Is this his idea of teamwork?”

Suki barked a laugh mid-explosion. “What teamwork? That’s a solo act with a built-in wind machine.”

Gang Orca braced himself in the center of the whirlwind, muscles flexed, sonic waves crashing outward to push back the onslaught. His goons, though? Not so lucky. One of them slammed into a wall, dazed. Another tripped over a collapsing barrier.

And all around him, students were flailing—too many quirks in play, not enough coordination.

Perfect.

Just perfect.

Sho, who absolutely hates Yoarashi's guts, jumped in the scene as well.

I took a breath and snapped my focus back in. Fine. If everyone else was distracted by Sandstorm McGee and Ice Prince, then maybe that gave me a better opening to get to the stragglers still stuck behind debris.

The screams of the faux-civilians were more urgent now, drowned slightly by the roar of wind and impact. I skidded into the wreckage, grabbed the closest “injured” girl, and muttered, “You’re gonna be fine, just hold tight.”

She nodded, wide-eyed, and I dragged her free. Another evaluator watched, arms crossed. Judging every move.

Cool. Love the pressure.

I hoisted her over my shoulder and bolted back through the chaos, weaving between flashes of light, bursts of water, and—seriously?—a lightning bolt that missed me by inches.

“DENKI!” I shouted. “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE SHOOTING!”

“MY BAD!” he called back, clearly not sorry at all.

As I dumped the girl safely in the med zone, the evaluator gave me another approving nod. “Good hustle. Keep your head low.”

“Yessir,” I panted, waving vaguely.

Across the field, Suki launched himself into a midair spin, detonating a path straight through two goons.

Sho backed him up with a wall of ice that locked down their escape while still hurling fireballs at Yoarashi and Orca.

And Inasa?

Still going. Still fighting with Sho. Still screaming something about passion and youth like we were in a sports anime.

I groaned again, flopping briefly onto the grass to catch my breath.

“If I get my license, I’m sending that guy a muzzle.”

I saw it coming before it even happened.

Sho’s fire shot out fast—clean, hot, precise, aimed directly at Gang Orca.

But then Yoarashi, brilliant timing as ever, sent a massive gust of wind barreling straight into the same zone.

Boom.

The two attacks collided midair, canceling each other out in a violent swirl of steam and sparks that veered completely off course—missing Gang Orca entirely and blasting a crater into the pavement ten meters to the right.

Sho’s expression snapped from focused to furious in an instant.

“You idiot!” he shouted across the field, turning on Yoarashi. “Watch where you’re aiming!”

Yoarashi, who somehow looked proud of himself, just grinned like this was all part of his master plan. “I was aiming! You just got in the way!”

“Oh my god,” I muttered under my breath, ducking behind a slab of rubble as another wave of chaos rocked the battlefield. “They’re gonna kill each other before the exam ends.”

uki noticed too. He stomped over, already pissed from blowing up three of Gang Orca’s goons on his own. “Oi, both of you! Focus or get the hell outta the way!”

Sho ignored him and stormed forward. “You’re actively ruining this for everyone.”

“I’m trying to help!” Yoarashi snapped back, wind coiling around his arms like angry snakes. “Maybe if you weren’t so slow—”

Before Sho could reply—and it looked like his next move was going to involve ice and very poor decisions—Gang Orca roared. A low, sonic pulse that rattled my ribs even from across the clearing.

Right. Whale guy. Still a problem.

“SHUT UP AND MOVE!” I yelled, grabbing Sho by the arm and yanking him behind a truck as another water blast cracked into the ground where he’d just been.

He stumbled, caught himself, and glared at me.

“Later,” I snapped. “You can murder each other later. Right now? Focus. Orca’s adapting.”

Sho clenched his jaw. He looked like he wanted to argue, but after a breath, he nodded tightly.

Yoarashi huffed, wind still whipping around his legs, then took to the sky again—hopefully aiming away from Sho this time.

Suki blew past all of us with an explosion so loud it left my ears ringing. “Tch—bunch of amateurs,” he growled.

I sighed and glanced at the sky.

Why is it always the emotionally constipated ones with the elemental quirks?

Back to work.

I went back to transitioning between rescuing and fighting.

And I was stupid, so, so stupid,  to think that my one short sentence was the end of the two bickering chimpanzee's fight. 

Because not even two minutes later—

BOOM.

A gust of wind nearly knocked me flat. I barely managed to duck behind a half-toppled pillar as an icy blast followed, flash-freezing the debris and one of Gang Orca’s stunned goons in a beautiful but entirely unnecessary sculpture.

I whipped around just in time to see Sho and Yoarashi mid-screaming match again—this time while dodging literal sonic shockwaves from Gang Orca like it was some kind of sparring drama club.

“Stop using my wind to boost your flames!”

“Then stop aiming at me and maybe I wouldn’t have to!”

“Oh my god,” I snapped, “I will personally dunk both of you in a kiddie pool if you don’t get your act together!”

They didn’t hear me. Or they did and decided to ignore me. Honestly, I couldn’t tell anymore.

Meanwhile, Suki had clearly decided he was above this nonsense. I spotted him blowing his way through Gang Orca’s remaining henchmen like he was speedrunning the entire fight. No hesitation, no wasted motion—just raw, precise power.

“DIE ALREADY!” he shouted at one particularly slippery goon, who wisely chose unconsciousness.

I, on the other hand, had officially adopted the role of ‘third-party mediator-slash-rescuer-slash-girl-who-might-lose-her-mind.’

Because between pulling trapped civilians from collapsed stairwells and dodging stray tornado-fire-ice combos, I was one bad mood away from chucking my provisional license hopes in the trash.

“Okay,” I muttered to myself, diving to help another civilian. “Just ten more minutes. Ten more minutes and I can cry in peace.”

Spoiler: it was not ten more minutes.

It was thirty-seven.

Because of course it was.

Shouto and Yoarashi kept going at it.

They bickered while fighting. They bickered while dodging. They bickered while saving people. I genuinely think they argued about who grabbed a crying toddler first.

“I had it handled!” Sho snapped, cradling said toddler with all the stiffness of someone holding a live grenade.

“You were about to fall over!” Yoarashi shot back, wind kicking up dust in his wake. “You’re welcome!”

“I didn’t ask for help.”

“And yet—you needed it!”

I nearly popped a blood vessel.

“GUYS,” I barked, halfway through hauling a fake-injured grandma out of a pit, “SHUT. UP.”

They actually paused. For like, a full second.

Then the grandma patted my cheek. “They remind me of my sons,” she said fondly. “Used to argue over who got to carry me down the stairs during fire drills.”

I stared at her. “Ma’am, that’s the most specific trauma bonding I’ve ever heard.”

“Love them both. Idiots, but sweet.”

And the moment was cut short by another icy-fire-tornado. 

I dropped the old lady in the makeshift med centre and blasted my way over to the bickering Avatars.

"I've had just about enough of you guys' bulllshit." I said, pinching both their ears and heating up my quirk just enough for it to hurt them.

Sho immediately winced. “Ow—ow! Haru, let go!”

Yoarashi yelped too. “What the hell—?! That’s hot!”

“Good,” I hissed, dragging them closer like a furious kindergarten teacher on her last ounce of sanity.

“You two have been bickering like rabid dogs for the past 25 minutes. At this point, I won't be suprised if neither of you get your hero liscenses. Everyone's out her doing their best, and the only thing you two are thinking about is beating the other. You’re both being dumbasses, and if I have to spend one more second playing emotional babysitter while also saving fake civilians and dodging whale-shaped violence, I will commit an actual crime. Understood?”

They blinked at me, twin expressions of shock and mild fear on their stupidly symmetrical faces.

“Yes, ma’am,” Yoarashi mumbled.

Sho muttered something under his breath that sounded like traitor, but nodded anyway.

“Great,” I said, finally letting them go. “Now shake hands or something so I can pretend this wasn’t the worst group project of my life.”

They both just glared at each other.

“Do it,” I warned, quirk still sizzling faintly in my palms.

Sho grumbled. Yoarashi sighed. And then, with the slowest, most reluctant movements known to man, they reached out and shook hands like two wet cats forced to hug.

“Progress,” I muttered, turning back toward the chaos. “Now come on. We’ve still got a job to finish.”

When none of them moved, I started barking out orders. "Yoarashi, make a turnado around Orca. Sho do the same thing with your fire, but make an Ice structure tall enough to protect everyone else from the impact."

Again, none of them did anything. "FUCKING MOVE. WE HAVE 5 FUCKING MINUTES LEFT!!!!!"

That got their asses in gear.

Yoarashi shot into the air like a launched bottle rocket, wind swirling violently around him as he carved a fresh cyclone toward Gang Orca.

Sho clenched his jaw but obeyed, flames roaring from one side while ice bloomed from the other, crafting a jagged fortress wall between the civilians and the incoming chaos.

Finally.

I sprinted toward a small cluster of “wounded” evacuees still crawling out from a half-crushed stairwell, waving them toward the cover Sho had built.

“You’re clear! Move, now!” I shouted, ushering them through.

Behind me, the sky howled with elemental madness—wind shrieking, fire crackling, ice groaning under pressure. Gang Orca was holding firm, bracing against the double-pronged attack, but for the first time since the battle started, he looked on the back foot.

I skidded to a halt beside Suki, who had just bodied a goon into a support beam with a ground-shaking BOOM.

“Nice,” I panted, chest heaving. “You good?”

He wiped a smear of soot off his cheek with the back of his hand and grinned. “Tch. Always.”

I gave him a quick nod. “Final sweep—check all zones and confirm no civvies left behind! We’re in the last three minutes!”

Across the field, I saw classmates hustling, dragging fake civilians to med tents, defending the perimeter, locking down what they could.

ho and Yoarashi were still trying to one-up each other with flair—Sho's ice tower now had flame runes curling up the sides, and Yoarashi’s tornado was spinning fast enough to lift debris off the ground—but at least they were working together now.

Kinda.

Mostly.

It’d have to do.

“Two minutes!” the loudspeaker blared.

"Sho, Yoarashi!" I called out. "Make a ball. A huge one, and drop it on him. Sho, make sure your ice is strong enough for the impact!"

Yoarashi glanced down at me mid-hover, clearly about to sass me—until he saw the look on my face.

The look that said if you screw this up I will personally turn you into a popsicle and launch you into orbit.

He swallowed whatever comeback he had and gave a sharp nod.

Sho didn’t even argue. He raised a wall of ice in a wide spiral motion, shaping it quickly with practiced precision. His fire curled around it—not to melt it, but to seal the cracks, reinforcing the structure from the outside in.

Yoarashi added wind pressure, swirling tightly around the sphere, compacting it further until it looked like a glowing meteor straight out of a disaster movie.

“On my mark!” I yelled, backing up and shielding the last group of evacuees behind Sho’s original ice barricade. “Three! Two! One—drop it!”

The ball came crashing down with a roaring shriek of compressed wind and fire-charged ice.

The ball came crashing down with a roaring shriek of compressed wind and fire-charged ice.

It smashed into the pavement with a thunderous BOOM, sending a shockwave rippling through the entire training zone.

Gang Orca skidded back, digging his heels in hard, arms up in defense. The ground cracked beneath him. Even he looked surprised by the sheer force of it.

I ducked, bracing as dust and steam exploded around us in a blinding cloud.

Then—silence.

For one, heart-stopping moment, the entire field went still.

And then the announcer’s voice echoed from the loudspeakers:

“End of Exam!”

I slumped forward onto my knees, gasping and half-laughing.

“Holy shit. I didn't die.”

Sho appeared at my side a second later, his uniform scorched at the edges, his hair windswept and wild. “You okay?”

I gave him a thumbs up from the floor. “Define ‘okay.’”

He offered me a hand, and I took it—groaning as I stood. My legs felt like noodles. My arms? Jelly. My everything? Burnt toast.

Yoarashi landed nearby with a thud, dusting off his shoulders like he hadn’t just helped create a weather-based apocalypse.

Suki stomped over a moment later, looking about as pissed as usual. “If one more idiot asks me to ‘calm down’ during a crisis, I swear I’ll explode them on principle.”

“Noted,” I wheezed.

As we limped toward the rest area, the announcer’s voice rang out again:

“Final results will be posted shortly. Please remain in the staging area.”

As we limped toward the rest area, the announcer’s voice rang out again:

“Final results will be posted shortly. Please remain in the staging area.”

I collapsed onto the nearest bench and looked around at my war-torn classmates, all of us bruised, filthy, exhausted, and maybe a little too close to feral.

But alive.

“Provisional license,” I muttered. “Gimme. I earned that thing with blood, sweat, and yelling.”

Sho sat beside me and bumped his shoulder against mine. “You did good.”

I dropped my head onto his shoulder with much force than necessary. "Ugh, I better have. I didn't save hundreds of fake civilians, fight till y whole body screamed like I just broke a bone, and put sense into the empty heads of two modern Avatars just to be told I didn't do well enough."

Sho snorted softly, the sound muffled against my hair. “You’ll be fine. Even Gang Orca looked impressed. I think. Hard to tell with whales.”

I made a low, tired groan. “If I don’t pass, I’m blaming both of you.”

“Me? What did I—?”

I jabbed a finger into his ribs without lifting my head. “Guilt by proximity. You were emotionally and elementally involved.”

Sho let out a long-suffering sigh. “...You’re worse than your brother.”

“That’s the meanest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I muttered, eyes still closed. “Apologize.”

“Never.”

Across the room, Yoarashi let out an obnoxiously loud yawn and stretched like he hadn’t just tried to air yeet a pro hero into the stratosphere.

Across from us, Suki was sprawled out on the floor like he’d just survived a warzone—and considering what just happened, he kind of had. He raised one arm and flipped us off without even looking. “Stop whispering like it’s a damn funeral. We’re not dead.”

“Yet,” I called back. “The results haven’t come in.”

That earned me a snort from half the class. Even Iida looked like he was too exhausted to lecture us.

Then, a door on the far end of the hall opened and some men in suits walked in holding folded up papers.

The room snapped to attention like someone had flipped a switch.

Even Suki sat up, scowling like the paper itself had offended him.

Some of the suited officials stepped forward, eyes sweeping across the ragtag mess that was our class.  Then about 20 walked towards us, each of them handing us the papers in their hands.

I held my breath as one of them stopped in front of me, not smiling. He handed me the folded sheet without a word.

For a second, I just stared at it like it might explode.

Then, with fingers that definitely weren’t shaking (they totally were), I unfolded the paper.

Big, bold letters at the top:

Provisional Hero License: PASSED

I blinked. Read it again. Then read it a third time, just in case.

Sho leaned over to peek. “You got it?”

I shoved it in his face. “HELL yeah, I got it!”

Across the room, Suki barked out a short laugh. “Tch. Like they’d fail you, dumbass. You basically dragged this whole squad across the finish line.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I said, tucking the license into my jacket like it was solid gold. “This is going in a frame. Above my bed.”

Sho gave me a tired little smile. “Congratulations, Haru.”

I grinned back, already floating two inches off the floor on adrenaline alone. “One step closer, huh?”

He nodded. Then another man in a suit walked up to him and one walked in Suki's direction. 

And as I watched, I saw both their faces drop.

The high in my chest slammed into the floor.

Sho blinked at the paper in his hands, expression unreadable—but his knuckles clenched white around the edges. Suki didn’t say a word either. He just stared down at his own paper like it had slapped him.

No one said anything for a moment.

Then Sho exhaled, slow and heavy. “Didn’t make it.”

Suki crumpled the paper in one hand. “Bullshit.”

My stomach twisted. “What? Wait—what do you mean you didn’t?”

Sho shook his head once, short and sharp. “Evaluation says we failed the cooperation portion. Especially during the rescue-villain transition. Too much damage, not enough teamwork.”

His gaze flicked to me, then to the far end of the room. “Yoarashi and I... clashed too much.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” I nearly yelled. "Well, I mean. I kinda get why but still. You made up for it didn't you?. And why didn't you pass?"

I turned to Suki.

“Apparently,” Suki said through gritted teeth, “scaring everyone I saved was frowned upon.”

Before I could say anything, the loud speaker roared to life.

“For those who did not receive licenses today, supplemental training and re-evaluation will be available in a few weeks. This will last for 3 months. Details will be sent to your schools. Thank you for your participation.”

A collective sigh rippled through the room. A few students looked relieved. Others just looked mad.

Suki looked like he was two seconds away from blowing a hole through the ceiling. “Three months? That’s practically a year in teen time.”

Sho just exhaled, calm as ever, but the tightness in his shoulders gave him away. “It’s better than nothing.”

“Barely,” Suki snapped. “What, we get to go back to school while the rest of the world plays hero? Yeah, that’s great.”

I stepped between them before it turned into round two of 'Why We Hate Authority.' “Okay, yes, this sucks. And yes, I’d like to lodge an official complaint on behalf of Team ‘Actually Did Stuff.’ But at least you two get a second chance.”

Sho gave me a sideways glance. “You’re really that upset on our behalf?”

“Of course I am!” I threw my hands up. “I was there! I saw what you guys did. You fought villains, saved people, didn’t completely murder each other. That’s growth!”

Suki rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Not like I wanted the stupid license anyway.”

“Sure, tell that to your five rage explosions during the exam.”

“That was motivated violence.”

Sho let out a soft laugh. “You know, Haru, you’re the only reason we didn’t actually burn that exam site to the ground.”

I shrugged. “Someone’s gotta be the emotional glue in this chaos.”

And once everyone got their results, we got on the bus and headed back to our dorms.

By the time we dragged ourselves back to the bus, everyone was sunburned, sore, and emotionally fried. I barely had the energy to unlace my boots, let alone talk to anyone.

The bus ride back had been… quiet. Weirdly quiet. Even Iida hadn’t done his usual “great job team!” thing, which honestly? Might’ve been more alarming than Suki not yelling once the entire trip.

As soon as the doors opened, the stampede began—students peeling off to their dorm rooms without a word, muttering things like “shower,” “sleep,” or in Kaminari’s case, “goodbye forever.”

I followed the herd up the stairs, too tired to even fight gravity. At my door, I turned the handle, shoved it open with my hip, and face-planted directly into the nearest pillow.

Heaven.

I was just starting to drift when—

knock knock.

I groaned into the mattress. “Go away. I’m dying.”

Another knock.

“Sho, I swear—” I turned over and opened the door mid-grumble, only to see Sho standing there, freshly showered and looking unfairly calm for someone who failed an exam.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

I blinked at him. “...Why?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Because we haven’t talked without flames or wind involved in like, three days?”

I snorted and stepped aside. “Fine. But I’m not moving. If you want to hang out, it’s horizontal or nothing.”

Sho walked in and sat next to me on the bed. He looked around the room like he doesn't hang here avery chance he gets.

“So,” he said, “congrats again. You really pulled it off.”

I shrugged, flopping back down. “Not without dragging you and Windboy along with me.”

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted.

Sho’s mouth tightened. “Yoarashi.”

Oh boy. I should not have said anything.

“You really think he’s not that bad?” he said, tone light, but I could hear the frost under it.

I sat up slowly. “He’s not, though. He’s just… intense. And awkward. Kind of like you were when we first met, if I recall.”

Sho actually looked offended. “Excuse me? I have never blasted someone off a rooftop because they stood too close.”

“Okay, true,” I admitted. “But you did ice over a whole hallway because someone bumped into you with a soda.”

“That was one time.”

“My point is,” I said, crossing my arms, “Yoarashi’s not a bad guy. He’s just...passionate. He wants to help. You two are just—too similar.”

Sho looked away, jaw tight. “We’re not.”

“You are,” I insisted. “You both have huge elemental quirks, you both get tunnel vision, and neither of you knows how to talk like a normal human when you're mad.”

“I communicate just fine.”

“Sho. You threw fire at him mid-exam.”

“Because he nearly knocked me over with a mini typhoon.”

“And you couldn’t have just—oh, I don’t know—talked it out instead of doing your best Avatar showdown?”

“I don’t trust him,” Sho snapped. “He’s reckless. He doesn’t think about who he’s hurting.”

The words hit harder than I expected, and I leaned back. “You mean like how people see you when you lose control of your fire?”

That shut him up.

Silence fell between us like a dropped weight.

Sho’s eyes darkened. His jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grind.

“Wow,” he said finally. Quiet. Flat. Dangerous. “You really think I’m like him.”

“That’s not—Sho, I didn’t mean—” I sat up, suddenly wide awake, arms reaching out as if I could catch the words and stuff them back into my mouth.

But he was already standing.

“You did mean it,” he said, voice ice-cold now. “And maybe you're right. Maybe that’s how everyone sees me.”

“Sho—”

He shook his head and backed toward the door, his whole body rigid. “You know what? Forget it. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Come on,” I said, standing too. “You’re mad. I get it. But don’t walk out just because we disagreed.”

“We didn’t disagree,” he snapped, fingers twitching like he wanted to light up. “You took his side.”

“I didn’t!” I cried. “I took no one’s side! I just wanted you to see that maybe—just maybe—Yoarashi’s not the monster you’ve made him out to be!”

“And you think I’m the one being unfair.”

“I think you’re being stubborn!”

Something in him broke at that—split wide open and flared up for a second, hot and furious—and then just as quickly, it shut down. The fire didn’t come. Just his voice, low and bitter:

“Goodnight.”

He opened the door and walked out.

No slam. No dramatic flare.

Just… gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, and I stood there staring at it like it had personally betrayed me.

I didn’t move for a long time.

Didn’t sit. Didn’t cry. Didn’t punch the wall like I wanted to.

I just stood there in the echo of all the things we didn’t say.

And somehow, that silence felt heavier than anything we yelled.

"Fuck me and my big ass mouth. Shoulda just shut the fuck up."

Until It All Stops

I keep moving through the noise, Through breaking glass and stolen joys. The world spins loud, a restless tide, But I’ve got fire left inside.

Every breath is sharp and thin, But still I fight, I pull, I win. No one sees the cracks I hide, The tired heart I keep inside.

They tell me rest, they say to wait— But peace don’t knock, it hesitates. So I keep going, through the blur, Each step a roar they’ll never hear.

I’ll hold this ground, I’ll take the hits, The storm won’t end with folded fists. Let it burn and let it break— I’ll stand and shake, but I won’t fake.

He blinked at me, caught somewhere between embarrassment and offense. “I—I am breathing!”

Todoroki sighed near the window. “Hard to tell.”

I snorted. “See? Even the Ice Prince agrees.”

Midoriya puffed up like a defensive puffball. Iida, bless his overly formal soul, lifted a hand weakly. “I believe she means well. In her own… tone.”

“Damn right I do,” I muttered, dropping my head back against the chair and closing my eyes. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“You don’t get paid at all,” Todoroki said.

“Exactly.”

A brief silence followed. Tense. Heavy. The kind that clung to your ribs and made it hard to breathe.

Then Iida spoke, quieter than usual.

“I almost crossed a line I couldn’t come back from.”

I cracked one eye open. His hands were clenched over the blanket.

“I wanted revenge so badly, I stopped thinking like a hero. Like a person.” His voice trembled. “I could’ve died. I could’ve gotten you killed.”

Midoriya reached out, resting a hand on Iida’s forearm. “But you didn’t. You stopped. That is something a true hero would–"

"Don't." I cut in. 

"W-what?" Broccoli blinked at me, caught mid-platitude, like I’d just slapped the inspirational poster out of his hands.

I sighed, "I'm sick. And tired. Of always hearing some damned, heroicly inspirational, long ass equivalent to a debate about how much life sucks kinda speech. It's frustrating. I mean, don't your mouths get tired?"

Midoriya’s mouth opened, then shut again. He looked like a kicked puppy—and also like he was desperately trying to decide if I was joking or actually spiraling.

Iida straightened up, eyes wide. “I-I didn’t mean to frustrate you—”

“It’s not you,” I said, dragging a hand down my face. “It’s just—every time something traumatic happens, everyone suddenly becomes a philosopher. Like slapping a quote and longer than life speech on it is gonna make it make sense.”

Todoroki, who’d been leaning against the wall in his usual brooding silence, actually tilted his head. “...You’re not wrong.”

“Thank you, Ice Prince.”

I sat up more fully, ignoring the dull throb behind my eyes. “Look. We went through hell. Stain nearly killed us. Iida almost lost himself. I got paralyzed for the first time in my life—which sucked, by the way—and Broccoli here looked like he was about to cry the whole time.”

“I was about to cry,” Midoriya admitted under his breath.

“And that’s valid,” I said, pointing at him. “That’s actually valid. I’m not saying don’t feel your feelings. I’m saying we don’t have to turn every brush with death into a motivational seminar. Sometimes stuff just hurts. And we sit with it. And then we deal.”

Todoroki finally stepped forward, slipping a juice box from the bedside table and tossing it lightly into my lap. “You should write greeting cards.”

“Thank you,” I said proudly. “They’d be bestselling. 'Congrats on surviving—don't bottle it up, go to therapy and maybe scream into a pillow.’”

Iida actually let out a startled laugh. It was a little teary, a little hoarse—but real.

Midoriya wiped his eyes and smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching with relief. “I… think I needed that.”

“Yeah, well. Me too,” I said, taking a sip from the juice box. “But like… seriously. When I’m out of here, someone’s buying me a damn pizza. A good one. No weird toppings.”

“I’m paying,” Todoroki said with zero hesitation.

"Ya really wanna make your father go bankrupt huh?" I smirked.

Midoriya chuckled. 

“I’ll bring the soda.”

“And I’ll… try not to spiral again,” Iida said sheepishly.

I gave him a tired thumbs-up. “Perfect. Look at us. Almost-dead bonding time.”

Midoriya and Iida laughed, Todoroki smiled.

Before the warmth could settle too deep, the door creaked open with a sharp click.

In walked a man in a police uniform, stiff-backed and carrying the exact energy of someone about to ruin your day with paperwork and consequences. His eyes swept the room, lingering just long enough to make it awkward.

Behind him stood a dog in a suit, clearly from some government agency, and a second officer clutching a clipboard like it might bite him.

I groaned, flopping back onto the pillow. “Oh great. Cops.”

Midoriya straightened instinctively, hands in his lap like he was back in a classroom. Iida looked like someone had just jammed a steel rod down his spine.

Todoroki? Todoroki didn’t move. Just blinked once, slow.

The lead officer cleared his throat. “Midoriya Izuku. Iida Tenya. Todoroki Shoto. And…” His eyes landed on me. “You.”

“Hi,” I said brightly. “No autographs.”

“I am Chief Inspector Tsuragamae,” he said. “And yes, I am aware of what you did. You stopped the Hero Killer. But the law is the law.”

Midoriya shrank in on himself. “W-we weren’t trying to break the law, sir, we just—”

“You acted on instinct. You saved lives. No one is denying that,” Tsuragamae interrupted, tone softer now, but still firm. “However, using your Quirks in a combat situation without proper licenses is a direct violation of the law. Had this been any other case—”

“We’d be in cuffs right now, yeah, we get it,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “So what’s the part where you don’t arrest us?”

Tsura-whatever his name was, looked at me with something between a tired sigh and grudging respect.

“Thanks to the statements from Pro Heroes—Endeavor, Manual, and Gran Torino, specifically—along with security footage confirming your actions were in defense of civilians and yourselves, the Public Safety Commission has decided not to pursue charges.”

Midoriya slumped in relief.

Iida looked like he might cry again.

Todoroki blinked once.

I threw my arms up weakly. “Wow. System almost punished us for surviving. Big win.”

“You’re not walking away completely free,” the clipboard cop piped up, flipping through a form. “You’re all receiving official warnings. These will go on your records. Next time, even with good intentions, you might not get this lucky.”

“Oh good,” I said, “a little trauma and a little threat of juvie. Balanced breakfast.”

Tsuragamae didn’t dignify that with a response. He turned to go, tail swishing once.

“Rest,” he said over his shoulder. “You’ll be summoned for questioning soon. And don’t even think about sneaking out of here early.”

As they left, the room fell quiet again.

Midoriya let out a shaky breath. “That could’ve gone worse.”

Iida nodded solemnly. “I deserve the warning. More than any of you.”

“Yes, you do,” I said, already curling back into the hospital bed. “But if I’m getting a mark on my record, I better at least get a sticker for ‘Valiant Effort.’ Or like, a cupcake.”

And with that, I fell asleep.

Finally getting released was like a dream come true. Me, Todoroki and Midoriya were released a few days ago but we had to stay back longer for the questioning. IIda had to stay in the hospital till further notice because his injuries were much deeper than ours. 

And apparently he'd need surgery for his left arm since it was very badly injured. But of course the hard head refused saying 'I won't take the surgery until I prove to myself I can truly be a better hero'

I stared at him for a long second, blinking.

Then looked at Todoroki.

Then at Midoriya.

Then back at Iida.

“Dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” I said flatly.

Midoriya made a helpless noise, like he wanted to protest but also kind of agreed.

Todoroki just tilted his head. “You need the surgery.”

“I need to earn it,” Iida replied firmly. “I need to rebuild myself as someone who won’t throw away his life for vengeance.”

“That’s noble,” I said, “and stupid. Nobly stupid. Stupidly noble.”

“You’re not helping,” Midoriya muttered.

“I am helping,” I shot back. “I’m giving him a reality check before he tries to prove his self-worth with a shattered elbow and sheer willpower.”

Iida, bless him, didn’t argue. He just looked down at his lap, jaw clenched, eyes heavy with guilt and something worse—determination born from shame.

And I sighed, finally leaning back in my chair.

“Look, if you want to be a better hero, start by healing. You’re no good to anyone—yourself included—if you’re half-broken out of stubborn pride.”

He didn’t say anything to that. But the next day, we heard he agreed to the surgery.

I smuggled in a cupcake with “Congrats on Not Being an Idiot” written in frosting.

Because some things are worth celebrating.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand then BACK to school.

Yay.

Nothing says "welcome home, almost-vigilantes" like a pile of makeup homework, a stack of new rule amendments, and three different teachers giving us the “we’re not mad, we’re just disappointed” look.

Which, in Aizawa-speak, translates to: “You scared the hell out of me and now I have to pretend I’m fine with it while silently tracking your every move until I stop waking up in cold sweats.”

Midnight gave me an extra-long hug in the hallway and then immediately threatened to bench me for a month.

I forgot I was close with her tbh.

“I love you, but I will knock you out myself if you try something that reckless again,” she said sweetly.

Hizashi offered me a granola bar and a shoulder squeeze.

And then there was All Might, who just looked at Midoriya like he was simultaneously proud, worried, and on the verge of bursting into tears.

Class was… weird. Everyone had been told that Endeavor was the one to take down the Hero Killer, but they were also told that we held our ground until the hero got there, even if it was only in defence.

'To give you at least a little bit of the respect and honour you deserve' The dog cop had said. 

like that somehow made up for the warning on our records and the lectures we got from every adult within a 50-mile radius.

And sure, it was better than nothing. But hearing Endeavor got the official credit? That stung.

Tough break,” Kaminari had muttered after class, his tone half-sincere, half-unsure if he was allowed to say anything at all. “But still. You guys were awesome. That’s gotta count for something.”

I shrugged. “We lived. That counts.”

Jirou gave me a look. “You say that like you didn’t limp into school three days after nearly being skewered.”

“I was skewered,” I corrected, deadpan. “Stabbed. Past tense. I’m fine now.”

“You’re not fine,” Todoroki said quietly, beside me.

I nudged him. "Shut it Ice Prince. Don't act like your arm doesn't hurt every time you so much as twitch."

Todoroki gave me a flat look, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “At least I don’t complain about it every ten minutes.”

“Bold of you to assume I complain. I’m just giving live updates,” I said, waving dramatically with my very sore arm and immediately regretting it.

“You literally whined because the milk in the cafeteria was too cold,” Jirou added, eyebrow raised.

“Because it triggered my trauma,” I sniffed. “Cold beverages are a reminder.”

Kaminari snorted into his hand, clearly trying not to laugh too hard. “You guys are so dramatic.”

“And yet,” I said, turning to him slowly, “I wasn’t the one who fried myself trying to charge my phone on a vending machine.”

He raised both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, no need for violence.”

Todoroki, very softly, murmured, “Violence is how she says hello.”

“Damn right,” I muttered, already hobbling toward our next class.

Because despite the trauma, the threats of suspension, and the very real chance we could’ve died— we were still here.

Still walking. Still talking. Still laughing.

And honestly?

That felt pretty heroic to me.

Heroism

It isn’t always blades and flame, A roaring crowd, a carved-out name. Sometimes it’s hands that lift the weight, Or standing firm when it’s too late.

It’s choosing right though wrong is near, And walking on through doubt and fear. It’s showing up with shaking breath, And guarding hope in face of death.

A hero’s not the one who shines, But who steps up a thousand times. Who hears the call when no one speaks, And shields the weak when all looks bleak.

I wanted Shiggy to see me on TV and know: Yeah. That’s my best friend. That’s Foxy. Not just the little girl who hid behind trees and shared smuggled snacks under a crumbling shrine.

But someone who stood tall, even when it burned. 

Katsuki’s been unusually quiet. Ever since the draw was announced, he’s been... tense. Not angry. Not yelling. Just simmering. I think the whole “first-place-but-not-really” thing is bothering him more than he lets on. He hasn’t said it, but I know he’s proud of me.

Even if he’s too stubborn to say it with words.

Aizawa-sensei pulled me aside today. Told me something vague about “recommendation interest” and “keep your record clean.” He always talks like I’m seconds away from punching someone. To be fair, I probably am.

But I nodded. Promised I’d behave. Gave him a little salute. He sighed. Called me “brat.” That’s basically affection coming from him.

My thoughts were cut off when I heard my name being called out. I turned to look at Mr. Aizawa at the podium, names and numbers shown on the board. 

"Those of you who got requests will get different lists from those who didn't get any requests. Todoroki, Bakugo, and....Bakugo. You got the highest requests for interships so you have more of a variety." He paused.

"—so choose wisely. This isn’t a popularity contest. These pros saw potential, not perfection. Don’t let it get to your heads.”

His gaze flicked over to me and Katsuki, lingering for half a second longer than necessary.

I glanced sideways at my brother. His arms were crossed, jaw locked, shoulders tense like he was trying to keep his explosions from leaking out of his skin. I could practically hear the internal monologue screaming I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m good, I know I’m good. Classic.

Still, the corner of his mouth twitched. Just a little. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was irritation. Maybe both.

I smirked.

As the rest of the class buzzed with excitement—Uraraka chattering with Midoriya about hero picks, Kaminari trying to look cool while clearly vibrating with nervous energy—I took a moment to look at my list.

4,015 offers.  

Top names. A few familiar ones I recognized from TV, others that were whispered about in darker corners of the underground hero circuit. One even had a stylized fox on the letterhead. I didn’t miss the irony.

“Popular, huh?” came a voice from behind me.

Todoroki.

Cool, quiet, composed as always. He didn’t sound annoyed—just...observant. Like he was measuring something invisible.

I shrugged. “Guess people like fireworks.”

“You nearly vaporized the arena.”

I gave him a side glance. “You froze half of it.”

Todoroki’s lips twitched. Almost a smile. But not quite. 

Before I could ask him why he came over, Katsuki shoved between us with the grace of a grenade. “Tch. Four thousand and fifteen offers, and half of 'em probably think you’re a damn villain.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Says the guy who looked five seconds from murder during his speech.”

He didn’t deny it. Just grunted and stared at his own list like it personally offended him. 

I lowered my voice. “You already know who you're picking?”

The vein in his forehead actually throbbed. “Why the hell would I tell you?”

I smirked. “Because I’m your twin and I’ll find out anyway?”

“Tch.”

Classic Katsuki. No confirmation, no denial—just irritated enough to mean I was right. Probably one of the top agencies, something with a brutal reputation. Maybe even someone controversial. He’d never go for the polished types.

"Who're you pickin'" Suki says, still lokking constipated—like the question physically hurt to ask. 

I raise an eyebrow. "Why the hell would I tell you?"

He shoots me a glare so sharp it might as well have been a knife to the temple. I grin.

"Relax. I haven’t decided yet," I add, flipping through the tablet with all the agency names listed like some kind of twisted menu. "Still weighing my options."

"That’s a load of crap," he mutters. "You already know. You’re just bein’ dramatic about it.”

"Not really. I'm tryna decide between three people" I say, tapping the paper idly like it might whisper the right answer if I hit it just right.

Suki tilts his head, interested despite himself. “Tch. Who?”

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “You gonna act like you don’t care or actually listen?”

“I’m already regretting askin’.”

Still, he’s watching now. Which means he does care. In his weird gremlin way.

I look back at the top of the list.

"Either Hawks, Endeavor or Mirko" 

That gets a reaction.

Suki lets out a sharp scoff, somewhere between disbelief and judgment. “What the hell kinda grab bag is that?”

I shrug. “All strong. All brutal in their own way.”

“Hawks is a PR pretty boy with feather knives. You’d kill him in a week.”

“Yeah, but he’s fast. Sharp. Smart. He’d teach me control. Plus, the guy’s practically got eyes in the back of his head—his situational awareness is insane.”

Suki grunts, not arguing, but clearly unimpressed. 

I keep going. “Endeavor’s obvious. Power. Pressure. Unrelenting standards. He’d either break me or make me better.”

He snorts. “You’d break him.”

“Not if he keeps the fire on,” I counter. “I want someone who won’t back off when things get messy.”

Suki crosses his arms, eyeing me sideways. “And Mirko?”

That one makes me grin.

“She fights like it’s a blood sport. Zero hesitation. All instinct and aggression. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hold back. I could learn a lot from her.”

“…You would pick the one who kicks people through walls for fun.”

I laugh. "Nah you'd be the one doin' that" 

I say. “She’s pure offense. Raw movement. It’s not always about who’s got the flashiest quirk. It’s about who’s willing to bleed for it.”

He goes quiet for a second.

Then, “If you pick Endeavor, I’ll laugh my ass off.”

I raise a brow. “Why?”

“Because you’ll either light his whole agency on fire… or come back with a second quirk called rage management.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s a tiny smirk tugging at my lips.

“Whoever I pick, they better be ready. I’m not going in to play nice.”

Suki grins—sharp, feral, proud.

“Damn right you’re not.”

"Choose Endeavor"  Todoroki's voice came suddenly from behind us. I kinda forgot he was here. 

I turned slightly, eyebrow raised. “You always this nosy, Peppermint?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. Just stood there, arms folded like a statue with daddy issues.

“I’m serious,” he said, eyes fixed on me, not Suki. “You’d be a good match for his agency. He trains hard. Pushes harder. He won’t coddle you. You said that’s what you wanted.”

“Didn’t peg you as the type to recommend Daddy Dearest,” I said coolly, watching him out of the corner of my eye.

He didn’t respond immediately. Then, “I didn’t say I liked him. But I’ve seen how he trains. He respects strength. Relentless strength.” 

Suki let out a low, dangerous chuckle. “Look at that—Half 'nd Half bastard finally admitting old man Flame might be worth something.”

Todoroki didn’t even look at him. “Don’t twist my words, Bakugou.”

I held up a hand between them. “Down, boys. Save it for the ring.” 

hen I turned back to Todoroki, tone more serious. “Why tell me? You want me to suffer under Endeavor’s boot too?”

He shook his head. “I think he’d hate training you.”

That made me grin. “Now that is an endorsement.”

I looked down at the paper again, tapping my nail on Endeavor’s name.

Yeah. Out of the three, he was the one who would least know what to do with me—and that made it fun. Dangerous. Challenging.

He’d either forge me into something terrifying…

Or regret ever accepting my name off that list.

Suki caught the look in my eyes and snorted. “You’re pickin’ him, aren’t you.”

I smirked. “Looks like I am.” Todoroki didn’t smile. But he nodded once, quiet approval. The kind that didn’t need words. 

"Just make sure you at least give him some nightmares"

Suki said, grumbling like it physically pained him to encourage me.

I grinned, slow and sharp. “Oh, I plan to.”

Because if Endeavor thought taking me on was a power move, he was about to learn something real quick:

I wasn’t just fire. I was wildfire. Uncontrollable. Merciless. And I didn’t burn to impress. 

I burned because I could.

Todoroki shifted beside us, quiet but not uncomfortable. He didn’t look at me like I was dangerous—he looked at me like he understood. Not in that deep, emotional way people always hoped for. But like someone who knew what it meant to carry that kind of heat inside your bones.

For a split second, I almost said something. Something real. Something… honest.

But then Suki bumped me with his shoulder—not gently.

“Hope his agency’s insured,” he muttered.

“Hope his ego isn’t,” I shot back, nudging him right back. I glanced at Todoroki one last time then nodded. He nodded back and we started walking toward the classroom again, the hum of conversation picking up as the rest of the students finished choosing their agencies.

Three days.

That’s how long we had before we were to go out to our agencies.

Three days to prepare for whatever hell Endeavor had in store for me.

Or, more likely… Whatever I had in store for him.

Turning the Tables

You spoke, I listened — quiet and still, Swallowed my fire, bent to your will. But silence can sharpen, waiting its day, And storms don’t ask when they come to stay.

Now look who's standing, voice like a flame, Rewriting the rules, unplaying your game. You held the power, thought you'd always win — But tables turn. And mine begins.

They dined on my doubt like a feast on fine china, Dismissing my sparks with a laugh or a liner. Their chairs sat high at the power-spun ends, While I served the stories they'd twist and pretend.

"I brought snacks," I replied, holding up a convenience store bag and flashing a smirk. “Good enough excuse?”

A twitch of his lips. Almost a smile. “Depends. Are they the strawberry ones?”

“I know what you like, Shiggy.”

I plopped down on the shrine steps beside him, careful to leave space. He didn’t like being crowded. I’d learned that the hard way when we were younger—when a hand slipped too far and dusted a railing into ash.

We sat in companionable silence for a while, chewing through candy and dried sweet potatoes like it was any other day. No League. No U.A. No war waiting in their shadows.

"You were holding back at USJ," he said suddenly, voice distant but observant. “Why?”

“I didn’t want to blow your face off,” I said dryly. “Obviously.”

He scoffed, but didn’t deny it. “You could have.”

“You could’ve, too.” We let the weight of that truth hang between us, suspended in the chirping of cicadas and the whisper of summer leaves.

"You ever think," Shigaraki murmured, "what would’ve happened if we were just… normal?”

I tilted my head, watching the clouds drift lazily above the shrine's roof. “All the time.” He was quiet again. Then, softer:

“I miss when it was just us.” I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I leaned back on my hands and said,

“It still is, in moments like these.” He looked at me, really looked—eyes tired, hollow, but touched with something like grief. Or maybe hope. Or the kind of feeling you don’t let yourself have when your world is built on ash.

"You could crush them Foxy, all of them. Why play their game?" I didn't answer, instead I asked my own question 

"You could also be a great hero, Drifter. Be the one to save people who can't save themselves"

“Don’t make me fight you again, Foxy.”

“Then don’t make me choose, Drifter.” Another silence, deeper this time.

"I missed when we were kids. Those times we'd disobey Master and run off like nothing mattered."  I got up. Brushed the leaves from my pants, grabbed the snack bag, and gave him a little smile before extending my hand.

"We always got punished after but it was so worth it." He stood up as well. We walked around the shrine for a bit. Just talking and remembering. When afternoon rolled around we decided to part ways.

“Same time, 2 weeks?” He asked as he turned to leave. I didn’t answer right away. But just before I stepped through the trees, I replied with a simple;

“…Yeah.”

The halls of U.A. felt a little too clean after the forest shrine. The air smelled like polished tile and cafeteria curry, not moss and dirt and old memories.

I walked to class with my hands in my pockets, my eyes focused somewhere far ahead. Aizawa-sensei was already inside, arms crossed, gaze unreadable as usual.

The other students filtered in around me—laughing, talking, complaining about homework or training soreness. Normal things. Safe things.

"Yo, Bakugo!" Kaminari called out from a seat near the window. "You alive? You've been like, ghosting everyone all weekend."

I smirked faintly. “Maybe I died and came back cooler.”

“Doubt it,” Katsuki muttered from behind me. “You were already the most annoying version.”

But his tone held no real bite. The way only a twin brother could be when he was trying to annoy his twin to no end. I chuckled and slouched into my seat.

“Weekend off wasn’t enough,” I mumbled. That wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie either. I've been thinking about my meet-up with Handface. We talked about our memories.

Memories that I long to re-live. I didn't  get to sink into my thoughts more when Mr. Aizawa began speaking.

"You did a good job not getting killed at the USJ. But your battle isn't over yet" The class erupted into chatters of what the supposed battle could be. Some thought it was more villains.

Some thought we had to testify for the poice about what happened. Then Mr. Aizawa began again.

"The UA sports festival is coming up" I starightened up at that. The students began mumbling again, saying it's dangerous to hold a festival right after a big attack.

"The festival is our chance to prove that even with what happened at the USJ, U.A. stands tall,” Aizawa continued. “I expect you all to take it seriously. You’ll be scouted, judged, and evaluated by heroes—and enemies.”

His eyes swept across the class, pausing on me for just a beat longer than anyone else. I just nodded. Out of everyone, Mr. Aizawa-and Suki- was the only one who knew what happened when we were young.

He knows about my relationship with Handface even if he doesn't approve, and even Suki doesn't know about it.

Later that day, we were back in the dorms. The talk of the festival hadn’t stopped. Kirishima was hyped out of his mind, planning training sessions with everyone.

Uraraka looked torn between excitement and anxiety. Even Todoroki seemed more… alert than usual. And me? I stared out the window of my dorm room, arms folded on the windowsill, watching the moon hang low and full.

 Behind me, Katsuki grunted. “You gonna sulk all week or actually train?” I didn’t turn around.

“I don’t sulk. I contemplate.”

“That’s just sulking with extra steps.” I smiled faintly.

"You should try it sometime." There was a long pause.

“I’m not gonna ask what’s up,” he finally said, softer this time. “But whatever it is—don’t let it get in your way. You’ve worked too hard.”

I turned to face him then, and for once, didn’t hide the weight in my eyes. “I’m not planning to lose, Suki.”

“Good.” He walked out without another word. Later that night, I stood in front of my mirror, staring at the bodysuit I’d been modifying for the festival. Sleeker. Meaner.

More refined than the beta version I used during the USJ. It's been a hell of a day, more training than usual, more   socialising than usual.

I'm not gonna lose the sports festival, I either win, or too broken to continue. I told Handface not to make me chose, but I know I'll have to someday. And so will he.

That took a lot of concentration and reading katsuki x reader fics to get done. Honestly how do novel writers do this? Anyways here's your daily poem.

The Split Path

One road is lit with duty’s fire, A crown of weight, a high-walled spire. It calls with law, with calm, with pride— The voice that says, you must decide.

The other winds through shadowed trees, With softer steps and selfish ease. It sings in dreams, it pulls in sleep— It’s where the heart runs far and deep.

I stand between the two again, With aching hands and whispered pain. One path will break the world I’ve known, The other leaves me cold, alone.

To do what’s right may cost me peace, To chase desire may break my lease With all I swore, with all I've been— A battle fought not out, but in.

'At least she gave me their address' I thought. When she trew me out of the house, she gave me my fathers' address. Seems like I have 2 fathers? How's that possible? Anyways, that is the last thing I should be worrying about right now.

From what my mother told me, they're in an appartment in Japan. How the fuck was I meant to get there? Well I somehow figured that out.

I was in Thailand. And I have to travel all the way to Japan for gods sake. That'd take like 2/3 aiprlanes, I stopped walking once I noticed yo were now in front of the Airport.

I entered and sat in the waiting area of my flight. The total flights would cost  about 12,406.42 Thai Baht. Which is basically 55,843.78 Japanese Yen. 

Which is basically all of my money. Once they announced my plane number, I got up and got into my plane seat. The ride lasted a total of 8 hours and 5 minutes.

Yes, I counted. Once I got off the plane, I startd asking around for the appartment. I had to walk 2 hours because I didn't have enough money for a taxi. 

The walk was stressful and it was almost midnight when I got there. I walked up to their appartment number and knocked. I stood ther for about 10 minutes, just knocking till someone opened the door.

The man that opened the door looked like he hadn't slept in months. He had medium lenghth void-black hair, and equally dark eyes.

He had eyebags under his eyes and looked like he would murder the perso who just disturbed whatever it is he was doing.

"Hi, um I'm looking for a man called Shota Aizawa?" the man stared at me for a long while before speaking,

"You've found him, what do you want" He said it more as a statement than a question.

"Oh um, I'm Akari." His eyes narrrow for a second, urging me to get to the point. "My mom's name is Sachicko and-"

Before I could finish my sentence, another man came up behind him mumbling something along the lines of 'back to sleep'. He had golden blond hair, that ran along his back. And his eyes were a greenish-yellow.

The black haired one-Shota- whispered something in his ear and the blond haired man stared at me before saying- more like yelling but whatever-

"WE HAVE A DAUGHTER!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" Somehow that didn't disturb my ears as much as it did Shota's since he literally pushed the man more than ten feet away from him.

I just stood there staring at them because...there's acctually two of them. How? I mean, I know how but they can't both be my biological fathers. Right?

Once they were both calm and not yelling or pushing each other, they told me to come in so they could chat with me.

Now I'm curious as to how Shota put 4 & 8 together from just my mothers name. I stood akwardly in their living room till they told me to sit down.

"So Akari right?" he asked and I nodded. "Shota rubbed at his eyes like this was some kind of dream—or maybe a headache. “Your mother… you said her name was Sachicko?" I blinked then nodded again. 

Shota sighed. “We knew her. A long time ago.”

“Knew her?” I asked, unsure how I was even supposed to feel. “You mean… you dated?”

The blond choked on a laugh and immediately turned it into a cough. Shota glared sideways at him before turning back to me. 

"What did she tell you? About us?" He asked. 

"Nothing except you left her when she gave birth to me since you didn't want anything to do with me."

"Of course she said that" The blond said while rolling his eyes.

"We were put in a quirk marriage by our families at the time. Her and hizashi," he gestured to he blond nex to him;

"Were friends since childhood. Lets just say they made bad choices" I nodded slowly. I don't want to hear this anymore. Gross.

"So...she cheated on you." Just because I didn't wanna hear it anymore didn't mean I wasn't curious. Shota nodded and Hizashi spoke up;

"She left after asking for large sums of money from us both. Her family looked for her but never found her. We would have tried harder if we knew she was pregnant. We didn't know we had a child"

He said it solemnly but I didn't really care. At least I found them and don't have to stay with her anymore.

A heavy silence settled over the room after that. I didn’t say anything, just stared at the floor. The ugly carpet. The scuff marks on the table legs. Anything but their faces. Welp, this is akward.

“I’m sorry,” Hizashi said again, quieter this time. “That you had to grow up thinking we didn’t want you. That we weren’t looking for you.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Aizawa said, voice steady. “It matters to us.”

I glanced up at him—he looked exactly the same as when I walked in: tired, sharp-eyed, like he hadn’t slept properly in years.

But something in his eyes had shifted. There was no doubt, no irritation, just... weight. Honesty. Regret.

"I didn't grow up thinking I wasn't wanted. I just didn't care as long as I had a roof over my head" I paused and gave a small smile. "So yeah, it really doesn't matter"

Hizashi gave a smile then said "Well if you're going to be staying with us, then you might as well call me dad" He smiled, like he's been waiting for this to happen since forever.

"If she calls you dad, then what'll she call me you idiot" Shota said and I tried not to laugh. Hizashi smirked and nudged Aizawa in the ribs.

“She can call you ‘grumpy dad’ and I’ll be ‘cool dad.’ Seems fair, right?”

Aizawa just rolled his eyes. “You’re delusional.”

“I’m not calling either of you ‘dad’ just yet,” I said jokingly, lifting an eyebrow. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Hizashi grinned like he’d won a prize anyway. “Fair enough. How about... temporary guardian of coolness?”

Aizawa groaned. “Please don’t encourage him.” I laughed.

“Alright,” I said, smirking. “I'll just call you dad" I said pointing to Hizashi "And I'll call you Pa. Let’s see how long you two survive having a teenage daughter.”

“You’d be surprised what we can handle,” Aizawa said dryly.

“Speak for yourself,” Hizashi said brightly. “I’m already planning matching jackets!”

Aizawa looked horrified. I laughed again. Yeah. This might actually work.

The Ones I Chose

I wandered far with empty hands, No roots, no maps, no promised lands. Just echoes where a name should be, A soul adrift, too wild to see.

I thought that family came with birth, A mark of blood, a tie to earth. But time and silence taught me slow— It’s love, not lineage, that make us grow.

You found me when the lights were low, No questions asked, just room to grow. A laugh, a meal, a quiet nod— And in that stillness, I saw you were fond.

You called me in with steady flame, Not once to fix, not once to blame. And in your eyes, I saw the truth: That family lives where hearts find youth.

Not bound by past, nor sealed in name— But chosen light, in life’s wild game. I may have searched the world in vain, But now I walk through sun, not rain.