Being grounded did not exempt from school, as I had so naively suggested to Mom over breakfast. Her response was a glare sharp enough to pierce diamond, followed by, "Go to school, Ryuu, or I will personally escort you there by your ear." It was not up for debate.
So here I was, back in the hellscape known as middle school, the one place where ambition and misery were handed out in equal asure. Horoom began as it always did—with our teacher delivering a half-hearted scolding about our future prospects. “You need to start thinking seriously about what kind of lives you want to lead,” he droned, like he had a script tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. “As heroes or otherwise.”
The word "heroes" made half the class perk up like soone had ntioned free snacks. The other half? They were already daydreaming, eyes glazed over. Typical. The teacher held up a stack of papers. “These are your desired life-course forms. Fill them out, and don’t lie. We all know what you’re going to write anyway.”
Soone in the back let out a laugh. “Heroes, duh.”
“No quirks during school hours!” the teacher barked as a kid with wings fluttered them for emphasis. The guy barely gave a damn about discipline unless it involved paperwork or legal liability. “Yes, I’m talking to you, Kazuki.”
The usual chaos simred in the room, but, as always, Katsuki Bakugo decided to turn it into a boil. “Tch,” he scoffed, arms crossed, his desk practically vibrating with his ego. “Don’t lump in with these extras.”
“Extras?” one of the kids shot back. “Says the guy who blew up his lunch tray last week.”
Bakugo’s eyes narrowed, and the kid wisely shut up. “Unlike you nobodies, I’m going to U.A.,” Bakugo declared, leaning back in his chair like he was already on the front page of Hero Weekly. “Top hero course in the country. Hardest exam there is. And I aced the mock test, so all of you can keep dreaming while I leave you in the dust.”
His declaration earned groans and begrudging nods from the class. Even they had to admit the guy had talent. Too bad his personality made you root for his downfall.
“U.A., huh?” soone else muttered. “Figures. That school’s full of psychos.”
Bakugo grinned like the comnt was a complint. “Damn right it is.”
And then, as if the universe had decided it had been too kind to lately, soone said it. “Hey, didn’t Ryuu and Izuku say they wanted to go to U.A., too?”
The entire class turned to stare at us. Izuku went pale, clutching his notebook like it was a shield against the wave of mockery that followed.
“U.A.? Them?” soone snorted. “What are they gonna do, open a quirkless hero program?”
Another chid in. “Maybe they’ll start a support group for losers.”
I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “Wow, great material, guys. Did you co up with that all by yourselves, or did Bakugo write your lines for you?”
Izuku, bless his soul, tried to speak up. “It’s not about—”
“Shut it, Deku,” Bakugo cut him off, his voice dripping with disdain. “You don’t even belong in the sa sentence as U.A., let alone .”
Izuku flinched but held his ground. “I—I’m not trying to compete with you, Kacchan. I just… I want to try.”
“Try?” Bakugo stood, his palms already sparking. “You think you can just ‘try’ your way into U.A.? The hell do you even plan to do in the exam, cry until they let you in?”
The class erupted in laughter. Izuku shrank under the weight of it, but I was not about to let Bakugo have the last word.
“Hey, Boom Boom,” I said, propping my chin on my hand. “Why don’t you save the fireworks for soone who cares? You’re not exactly impressing anyone.”
Bakugo’s glare snapped to like a missile locking onto its target. “What’s that, Green 2.0? You got sothing to say?”
“Plenty,” I replied, smirking. “But I’ll keep it simple for you. Not everyone needs a quirk to be worth sothing. So of us just have to work a little harder. You should try it soti.”
The room went quiet. Bakugo’s sparks intensified, little pops and crackles filling the air as he stepped closer. “You wanna say that again?”
“Sure,” I said, standing to et his glare. “I said, maybe if you spent less ti puffing up your ego and more ti actually training, you wouldn’t need to pick fights to feel important.”
The teacher’s voice cut through before Bakugo could respond. “That’s enough! Sit down, both of you!”
Reluctantly, we obeyed. Bakugo shot one last glare, his fists still clenched, but he did not push it further. For now. Izuku gave a grateful look, but I just shrugged.
The rest of the class passed uneventfully—if you count Bakugo’s occasional death glares as uneventful. As the final bell rang, I gathered my things and made a ntal note to avoid any and all alleys on my way ho. Bakugo’s wrath was bad enough in daylight; I did not need to add shadows to the mix.
“Hey, Ryuu,” Izuku said as we packed up. “Thanks. For, um, sticking up for .”
“Don’t ntion it, Waterworks,” I replied, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “But seriously, if you’re going to aim for U.A., you better be ready to back it up. Those teachs won’t care how much you love All Might.”
Izuku nodded, determination flashing in his eyes. “I will. I promise.”
“Good,” I said, smirking. “Because if you make it in, I’ll have no excuse not to join you.”
As Izuku and I were about to leave the classroom, the door slamd shut with all the subtlety of a Bakugo tantrum. Speak of the devil, there he was, standing with his two minions, the infamous goon squad, blocking the exit. His glare was locked on Izuku like he had just spotted a bug he wanted to crush.
"Hey, Deku," Bakugo sneered, stepping forward. His palms sparked just enough to let us know he was in the mood for fireworks. "Still thinking about U.A.? Don’t make laugh."
Izuku clutched his notebook tighter, the one he was always scribbling in, filled with hero analysis and notes about quirks. His lips trembled, but he didn’t say a word. Classic Izuku, bracing for impact like the human punching bag he had resigned himself to be.
Bakugo snatched the notebook out of Izuku’s hands before I could stop him. "What’s this?" He flipped through it with exaggerated interest. "Oh, wow, more useless crap about heroes you’ll never be like. You really don’t know when to quit, do you?"
Izuku stayed silent, but I could see his hands shaking. Bakugo wasn’t finished, though. He ignited a small explosion in his hand, sending the edges of the notebook curling and blackening with heat.
"Oops," Bakugo said, his grin widening. "Guess it’s not fireproof."
"Give it back, Malf—Bakugo," I said, stepping forward. My voice was calm, but my hands were already clenched into fists. "Unless you want to add ‘can’t handle paper’ to your résumé."
"Oh, look," Bakugo sneered, turning his attention to . "Green 2.0 thinks he’s tough. What are you gonna do, Ryuu? Talk to death?"
I shrugged. "Better than whatever you’re doing. What’s the plan here, tough guy? Bully soone into taking you seriously? Spoiler: it’s not working."
Bakugo’s eye twitched. That was usually a good sign. "Why don’t you shut your mouth before I shut it for you?"
"Why don’t you try it and see what happens?" I shot back.
That was all the invitation Bakugo needed. He lunged forward, his hand sparking with a miniature explosion aid right at . I didn’t have ti to think, not that I ever did. I just reacted. My hand shot out, grabbing his wrist mid-swing. The explosion went off, sending a shockwave up my arm. Pain flared imdiately, but I didn’t let go.
"Wow," I said through gritted teeth. "Your quirk’s as impressive as ever. I’m sure this’ll really help you in a spelling bee."
Bakugo struggled against my grip, his other hand already lighting up. "Let go, you idiot!"
"Sure," I said, tightening my hold just enough to make him wince. "Right after you hand over the notebook."
One of his goons, the taller one with the brainpower of a goldfish, stepped forward. "Uh, Katsuki—"
"Shut up!" Bakugo snapped. He pulled back, yanking his wrist free, and dropped the notebook onto the floor like it was trash. "Fine. Take your stupid book. But if you think you can just waltz into U.A., you’re even dumber than I thought."
I bent down and picked up the notebook, brushing off the soot as best I could. It wasn’t in great shape, but at least it wasn’t completely ruined. I handed it back to Izuku, who was still frozen in place, his face pale.
"You okay, Waterworks?" I asked.
Izuku nodded quickly, clutching the notebook to his chest. "Th-thank you, Ryuu."
"Don’t ntion it," I said, turning back to Bakugo. "And you. Why don’t you dive off the rooftop and see if your ego makes a good cushion?"
The room went silent. Even Bakugo’s goons looked uncomfortable. Bakugo, though? His face twisted into a snarl. "You’re dead, Midoriya."
"Yeah, yeah," I said, waving him off. "Add it to the list."
Bakugo took a step forward, the teacher’s voice echoed down the hallway, cutting him off. He threw one last threat over his shoulder and stord off with his goons, leaving the classroom in silence. I grabbed Izuku by the arm and nudged him toward the door. “Co on, let’s go. If we’re late, Mom’s going to kill —well, us, but mostly .”
As we walked ho, Izuku stayed quiet, clutching his notebook like it was a lifeline. I didn’t bother filling the silence; he was probably still shaken. The streets were unusually empty, which suited just fine.
We turned a corner near Tatooin Station, and that’s when it happened. A weird, sloshing sound caught my attention, like soone had upended a bucket of water in an alley. I glanced over, already half-expecting to see sothing ridiculous, but what I saw was worse—a living sludge monster dragging itself out of a sewer grate, its gooey mass shimring under the streetlights.
“Is that… normal?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
The thing moved fast, surging toward us with a wet, disgusting squelch. Before I could react, it lunged for Izuku.
“Wha—AHHHH!” Izuku scread as the creature slamd into him, wrapping itself around his torso and arms like so kind of sentient jello.
“I need a body!” the sludge thing growled, its voice distorted and gurgling. “You’ll do nicely!”
“Hey, hands off!” I shouted, darting forward. My first instinct was to punch it, but my fist sank into its gooey form like it was a bowl of oatal. “Gross, gross, gross!” I yanked my hand back, shaking off the sli. The System chid in like it had been waiting for the perfect mont to ruin my day.
[NEW QUEST: SAVE IZUKU FROM THE SLUDGE VILLAIN. REWARD: 50 XP. FAILURE: PERMANENT TRAUMA.]
“Oh, real helpful,” I muttered, dodging a slimy tendril that whipped toward . “Any bright ideas, System?”
[PRO TIP: STOP TOUCHING THE GOO. TRY USING YOUR BRAIN INSTEAD.]
Izuku was gasping for air, his face turning red as the creature tightened its grip. “R-Ryuu… I can’t breathe!” he choked out.
“Yeah, I see that!” I snapped, frantically looking around for anything that could help. A trash can, a loose brick, literally anything. But before I could co up with a plan, a gust of wind nearly knocked off my feet.
“Fear not, citizens!” a booming voice declared. A split second later, a larger-than-life figure leapt into the scene, landing with enough force to crack the pavent. “For I am here!”
“All Might?” Izuku wheezed, his eyes widening even as the sludge continued to suffocate him.
Sure enough, it was him—the Number One Hero, in all his glory, striking a pose like he was starring in a toothpaste comrcial. His grin was as blinding as ever, but he wasted no ti. “Don’t worry, young man!” he called out, winding up a punch. “I’ll handle this!”
“About ti,” I muttered, stepping back as All Might unleashed a devastating punch. “Detroit SMASH!” The shockwave from the impact was like a mini hurricane, scattering the sludge villain into a hundred gooey pieces. Izuku collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
“You okay, Little Green?” I asked, crouching beside him.
“I-I think so,” he stamred, clutching his chest.
All Might crouched down, offering a hand to Izuku. “You were very brave, young man,” he said with that trademark smile. “But next ti, leave the heroics to the professionals.”
Izuku, still starstruck, could only nod. All Might stood, gathering the remnants of the sludge villain into a couple of empty soda bottles like it was just another Tuesday.
“You two should head ho,” he said, his tone light but firm. “And be more careful. Villains can appear anywhere, even in broad daylight.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” I muttered, brushing so stray sli off my jacket. “By the way, nice timing. You saved the trouble of figuring out how to fight a pile of goo.”
All Might chuckled, giving a thumbs-up. “Glad I could help, young man. Stay out of trouble, alright?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like trouble?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation, then turned to leave. Izuku, still in a daze, grabbed his notebook and scrambled to his feet. “W-wait, All Might!” he called out. “Can I get an autograph?”
All Might paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Already taken care of,” he said, gesturing toward Izuku’s notebook. Sure enough, there it was—his signature, scrawled in big, bold letters. Izuku nearly fainted on the spot.
All Might started walking away, but Izuku, being Izuku, wasn’t done. “Wait!” he shouted, sprinting after the hero. Before I could stop him, he grabbed onto All Might’s leg just as the man leapt into the air.
“Of course he did,” I muttered, watching them disappear into the sky. I dusted off my hands and turned toward ho, shaking my head. “This idiot…”
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