𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 13 | 𝖣𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 | 𝖯𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 | 𝖭𝖾𝗑𝗍
The written portion of the final exams went smoother than you expected. You sat in your seat, pencil moving steadily as you worked through each question, your mind clearer than you thought it would be. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't overwhelming either—not like you built it up to be.
Between your own studying and forcing Katsuki Bakugo to sit down with you, you actually felt... prepared. That alone eased some of the pressure sitting in your chest. When you handed your paper in, you let out a quiet breath, your shoulders finally loosening.
But the relief didn't last long.
Because next was the practical.
You stood outside the training grounds in your hero costume, the air feeling heavier than usual. Everyone was quieter now, more focused, more aware of what was at stake.
This wasn't just another training exercise—this determined whether you passed or failed. Your fingers flexed slightly at your sides, the faint sting in your palms reminding you of earlier training. You glanced around instinctively, your eyes landing on Bakugou for just a second before you looked away.
He looked irritated as always, but there was something sharper underneath it today.
You stepped forward as your name was called, standing beside Eijiro Kirishima as he gave you a confident grin.
You nodded, offering a small smile back.
"And your opponent... Cementoss."
Your stomach dropped slightly, but your mind was already working. Terrain control. Limited movement. Constant pressure. You exhaled slowly, grounding yourself before the gates opened.
The second you stepped inside, the ground shifted beneath your feet. Concrete surged upward, walls forming instantly and cutting off your path before you could even move properly. The terrain warped around you like it was alive, blocking your vision and splitting you from Kirishima in seconds. You barely caught your footing as another slab rose in front of you.
Your instincts kicked in immediately, your hand slicing open without hesitation as blood welled from your palm. You forced it outward, hardening it just enough to brace against the incoming structure.
Kirishima's voice rang out from somewhere ahead.
"I see him—he's watching us!"
You moved before the next wall could trap you, ducking under the edge and pivoting to keep your balance. Cementoss wasn't just attacking—he was controlling the entire battlefield. Every step you took felt like it was being predicted. You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm. Panic would only make it worse.
You regrouped with Kirishima after breaking through a narrow opening, both of you catching your breath for half a second.
Dust clung to your clothes, bits of debris falling from the shifting terrain around you.
You glanced at him quickly, already knowing what needed to be done. Staying separated would get you trapped, and staying still would get you buried. He seemed to come to the same conclusion at the exact same time.
The two of you moved as one after that. Kirishima took the front, smashing through incoming walls while you stayed just behind him, covering blind spots and redirecting attacks he couldn't reach in time.
Your blood hardened into short bursts—quick, controlled, precise—never staying out too long before you pulled it back in. You used pressure plates beneath your feet to shift your movement, small explosions giving you just enough lift to avoid being boxed in.
Cementoss responded immediately, increasing the speed of the terrain changes as if testing how much you could handle. But you didn't slow down.
Kirishima pivoted instantly, punching through a rising wall before it sealed.
You followed through, launching yourself upward just enough to clear the next trap. The battlefield felt suffocating, constantly shifting, constantly closing in. But you could see it now—the opening, the capture point.
You moved first, your blood forming a hardened restraint that shot forward and wrapped tight. Kirishima followed immediately, reinforcing the hold with brute strength. Cementoss resisted, the ground cracking beneath the pressure, but the two of you held firm.
Your arms trembled slightly, but you didn't let go. Not now. Not when you were this close.
Kirishima let out a loud laugh, pumping his fist into the air.
You exhaled, your chest rising and falling as the tension left your body.
Your palms stung, your energy slightly drained, but you were okay. You hadn't overdone it. For once, you felt in control.
You found Ectoplasm to say a quick hi, then made your way to where the rest of your classmates were. More specially, a certain red-eyed man.
Bakugou was already heading toward his assigned area, the tension in the air was obvious even from a distance, sharp and uncomfortable.
Your chest tightened slightly as you hesitated.
You knew how he got when it came to Midoriya. You knew this wouldn't be easy for him.
Still... you stepped forward.
He stopped just enough to glance over his shoulder. You slowed as you approached, trying to keep your tone steady.
"Just—relax, okay? You've got this."
He turned to face you, irritation already clear in his expression.
"I don't need a damn pep talk."
You blinked, caught off guard.
His voice cut you off immediately.
"I don't need luck. I don't need help. I'm gonna win. And I don't need you on my damn ass, you won your match— great. Now leave me be and let me win mine."
Your brows furrowed slightly.
"I wasn't saying you couldn't—"
The words hit harder than they should have.
He didn't wait for you to respond.
He just turned and walked away.
You stood there for a second, completely still. You knew how he was, especially when it came to Izuku Midoriya. You knew this situation would get under his skin more than anything else. You told yourself not to take it personally, not to let it get to you. But that didn't make it fair. Being snapped at for trying to help still stung.
How could you guys do a complete 180.
"...Whatever," you muttered quietly.
For the remainder of the exam, you kept your distance. No more trying to talk to him, no more checking in. You focused on what you needed to do and left him alone. And he did the same. Just like that, the space between you grew a little wider.
But not the same as of right now.
The next day, classroom felt unusually tense that afternoon. Even though finals were over, no one looked relieved yet. Everyone sat in their seats waiting for Aizawa to speak, and the silence hanging over the room was thick enough to make your stomach twist.
Kaminari looked seconds away from passing out. Mina kept nervously tapping her pencil against her desk. Kirishima kept glancing around the room, probably trying to figure out who else looked worried so he could compare himself.
You sat quietly in your seat with one leg bouncing beneath the desk.
Finals were finally over.
The practical exam had been exhausting. You still felt sore when you thought about it for too long. Between the written test, the combat exam, and the pressure of everything else piling up lately, you felt like your brain had been running on fumes for days.
Aizawa stood at the front of the room with his usual unreadable expression. He looked between all of you before finally speaking.
"As you all know, the final exams were designed to evaluate both combat ability and cooperation."
The room went dead silent.
The class practically exhaled all at once.
"However," Aizawa continued, "those who failed will be required to attend additional summer lessons."
A chorus of groans immediately filled the room.
"Summer school? Seriously?"
Kaminari nearly collapsed onto his desk. "I'm doomed. I'm actually doomed."
Aizawa ignored all of it and began listing names.
You listened carefully, relief slowly settling into your chest when he confirmed that you had passed. Barely, maybe, but still. You passed.
Your shoulders relaxed slightly.
Though from the look on his face, you could tell he wasn't happy about it. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, jaw set, brows furrowed. He probably hated the fact that he passed the way he did. It wasn't the clean, overwhelming victory he always wanted. It wasn't enough for him.
You hadn't really spoken since his outburst after the exam.
Not since he snapped. Not since he yelled. Not since he looked at you with that expression you still couldn't fully understand.
You kept trying to tell yourself it didn't matter. That you were used to it by now.
Bakugou got angry. Bakugou lashed out. Bakugou said things he probably didn't mean.
But lately it felt different.
Lately it felt like you were always the one catching the worst parts of him.
You got the irritation. The frustration. The sharp edges. You got the version of him that snapped first and thought later while everyone else slowly started seeing the parts of him that were changing.
You hated how much it hurt.
Eventually class was dismissed, and the room immediately burst into chatter.
"Mall?" Mina asked excitedly as she turned around in her seat. "We should all go to the mall before summer stuff starts."
"Ooh, yes!" Hagakure agreed immediately. "Food court!"
Kaminari pointed dramatically. "I want crepes."
"You always want crepes," Jirou said flatly.
"I'm emotionally attached to them."
Kirishima looked over at you. "You coming?"
You gave him a small apologetic smile and shook your head.
"I can't. I have to meet with Ectoplasm."
"Training stuff?" Midoriya asked.
"Sort of," you answered. "We've been looking into... some things."
Your eyes drifted across the room before you could stop them.
Bakugou was already halfway out the door.
No sarcastic comment. No "see you later." No teasing remark thrown over his shoulder.
Your chest ached in a way you hated.
"Maybe next time," you said quietly before grabbing your bag and leaving too.
The walk to Ectoplasm's agency felt longer than usual. Maybe because your head was too full. Maybe because every few minutes your thoughts circled right back to Bakugou no matter how hard you tried to focus on something else.
You hated that one person could ruin your mood so easily.
By the time you reached the agency, the sun was lower in the sky and the city had started taking on that warm golden glow right before evening.
Ectoplasm greeted you near the entrance with his usual calm demeanor.
"You're late by three minutes," he said.
You blinked at him. "You timed me?"
You sighed. "That's terrifying."
Despite yourself, you smiled a little before following him further into the building.
He led you into one of the smaller rooms in the back of the agency. It was quieter than the training rooms and looked more like an investigation office than part of a hero agency.
There were filing cabinets lining the walls, stacks of folders, multiple computer monitors, newspaper clippings, photographs, maps, and pages of handwritten notes spread across tables.
Your stomach tightened almost immediately.
Ectoplasm walked over to one of the desks and picked up a folder.
"There have been more reports," he said quietly.
Your attention sharpened immediately. "What kind?"
He handed you several papers.
You quickly began skimming them.
Anonymous message boards.
Random pages that had apparently appeared online for only a few hours before disappearing again.
Most of them seemed ridiculous at first glance.
A blurry photo of a man standing in an alley.
Someone claiming they saw "the old number one hero" outside a train station late at night.
Posts titled things like:
THE MAN WHO SHOULDN'T EXIST
"Most of it is fake," Ectoplasm said. "Conspiracy theories. Trolls. People looking for attention."
"But not all of it?" you asked quietly.
He was silent for a moment.
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "That's what i'm trying to figure out."
You looked down at another printed screenshot. There was a grainy image attached to the post. Too blurry to make anything out clearly.
But the build looked familiar.
The shape of his shoulders.
"It could be anyone," you whispered.
"It could," Ectoplasm agreed. "But your father's case has always had loose ends."
"There are people who dedicate entire databases to scanning the internet for things like this," he explained. "Keywords. Certain phrases. Facial similarities. Missing persons. Sightings. Random websites that appear for minutes before they're taken down. I have my own database."
He motioned toward one of the monitors.
You followed him over and looked at the screen.
There were pages and pages of archived information. Articles. Police reports. Anonymous tips. Screenshots. Old deleted posts.
"We've looked into hundreds of dead ends," Ectoplasm said quietly. "Most of them lead nowhere. But every once in a while..." He looked down slightly. "Something doesn't fit."
You stared at the screen.
The question came out quieter than you intended.
Ectoplasm was silent for a long moment.
Then he said, "I've asked myself that question every day for years."
"I have a meeting with some of the higher-ups," he said after a moment. "Stay here. Look through whatever you want. Just organize it when you're done."
The second he left the room, you got to work.
You pulled papers out of folders. Opened new tabs. Started writing down dates and locations. You pushed two desks together and spread papers all across them.
One article mentioned a sighting in Osaka. Another anonymous post came from a town only thirty minutes away three months later.
There was a chalkboard in the corner of the room.
Without even thinking about it, you dragged it closer and started pinning papers up.
You tied red string between certain points. Circled names. Drew arrows.
You were mumbling quietly to yourself before you even realized it.
"No, that doesn't make sense..."
"If this one was fake, then why delete it so fast...?"
"Same area... same month..."
Hours passed without you noticing.
You barely even realized it had gotten dark outside.
You didn't hear the door open either.
You jumped hard enough to nearly drop the marker in your hand.
Ectoplasm stood in the doorway, looking somewhere between surprised and concerned.
You blinked at him. "When did you get back?"
You looked around the room.
Papers covered almost every surface.
The chalkboard looked insane.
Red string connected maps and screenshots and notes in every direction.
You slowly lowered the marker in your hand.
Ectoplasm stepped further into the room. For a moment, he just looked at everything.
"You need to be careful."
Your shoulders stiffened.
"I've done this before," he said quietly. "The late nights. The endless searching. Convincing yourself that if you just connect enough dots, you'll find the answer."
He looked over at the chalkboard again.
"But don't let this consume you," he said. "Don't drive yourself crazy chasing ghosts."
You looked down at the notes in your hands.
"You can come back to this after training camp," he continued. "Take the rest of the day off."
You hesitated before slowly nodding.
You helped clean up a little, though not much. Just enough to make the room look less chaotic.
But when Ectoplasm wasn't looking, you quietly folded a few notes and tucked them into your bag anyway.
You stayed up way too late that night.
Your room was dark except for your desk lamp. Papers covered your bed, your desk, even the floor.
You reread the same article four times.
You highlighted names. Circled phrases. Wrote question marks in the margins.
At some point, you checked the clock and realized it was almost two in the morning.
You should have gone to sleep.
But every time you tried, your mind went right back to the blurry image.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled you under.
The next thing you knew, your alarm was going off.
You scrambled around your room, throwing clothes on, shoving things into your bag, nearly tripping down the stairs.
By the time you got to the bus, everyone was already there.
Aizawa looked unimpressed.
"Sorry!" you said quickly, slightly out of breath. "I overslept."
Kaminari pointed dramatically. "She lives!"
Mina blinked at you. "Wow. You look terrible."
"Thank you," you said dryly.
"You have really bad eye bags," Mina continued. "Like... really bad."
You rubbed at your face tiredly.
You climbed onto the bus and your eyes instinctively found Bakugou.
He was already seated, leaning against the window.
For a second, he looked at you.
His eyes flicked over your face, your messy hair, the exhaustion under your eyes.
Then you just kept walking down the aisle past him without saying anything.
Your chest hurt a little.
Uraraka leaned over the seat in front of you. "Are you okay?"
She frowned slightly but didn't push.
You leaned your head against the bus window.
Outside, the city slowly gave way to trees and mountains.
Inside, your classmates laughed, argued, traded snacks, and talked over each other.
And somewhere a few rows ahead of you, Bakugou looked back once.
Then quickly looked away before anyone could notice.
@bunny4kaiser @camelliablossomss @kit9doctordreamer @nightmarenyxx @papoiyu @bengalbunny @amttyy @gonegh0stwriter @vaebear @n31ly @vanillabeanswirltwist @lookingforsyd
