19 | she/her | Multifandom | Writer ~ Neurodivergent ~
I write character x OC; character x reader; character x character
Just a place for me to spew all my writing
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_2137
After days of bouncing between hospital beds and checkups, I’m finally free.
With a lovely party bag full of drugs. Wonderful.
I stare into it—boxes upon boxes. Three for the leg, two for the brain, and antidepressants as the cherry on top. I sling the bag over my shoulder and trudge toward the curb, where Toshinori’s car waits.
Of course it’s flashy. Chrome wheels, sleek lines, pristine finish. Even in retirement, he still flexes that hero salary.
“Why this one?” I ask, wiping a hand across the spotless hood.
“Don’t like it?” he says with a grin.
“It just screams mid-life crisis.”
He chuckles and slides into the driver’s seat, starting the engine. After a few useless turns, I finally ask, “Where are we going?”
“The remedial course. Gang Orca’s requested your assistance.”
“And why am I only hearing about this now?”
Then it clicks. Darium.
That damn meddling prick figured it out.
“Forget I asked,” I sigh.
We pull up to a massive hall in no time. I trail behind Toshinori, weaving past the stands—and there it is. A flaming pile of garbage.
Endeavor.
Even from this distance, he stinks. Like burning plastic and rage issues.
“Why are you here?” he growls.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
His eye twitches with irritation, but Toshinori quickly steps between us.
“Let’s go sit down then!” he says too cheerfully.
I spot a seat in the far corner that practically screams my name, but Toshinori tugs me to sit beside him. Ugh.
Below us, Bakugo stands at the front of the group. I jab two fingers at my eyes, then flick them toward him. Without hesitation, he mirrors the gesture—right down to his stupid gremlin face.
Piece of shit.
Then comes Endeavor’s bellow: “SHOTO! IF YOU HADN’T FAILED, YOU WOULDN’T BE HERE!”
I lean sideways, away from the growing heat rolling off him like a broken radiator.
“Jeez. One way to let everyone know you’re a shit father,” I mutter.
He huffs and flops back into his seat like a sulky toddler. Arms crossed. Classic.
When Gang Orca enters, the students stiffen. Hands to their sides, feet together and posture straight. His speech is a full-on performance—part motivation, part low-key harassment.
Then he calls me forward. I jump down from the stands, landing with a thud. Gang Orca gives me the once-over.
“Where’s your hero costume?” he asks.
“I learned about this arrangement five minutes ago,” I reply. “And anyway, I’m off duty, so it’s also none of your damn business.”
He sighs, gently shaking his head. “Teenagers,” I hear him mumble under his breath.
Then he straightens up, posture military-perfect, and begins pacing like a shark–or an orca–in shallow waters.
“After supervising your training, I can determine there’s nothing heroic about you!” His voice booms, harsh and unforgiving. “You’re bottom feeders! Nothing but rotten fish turds!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” the students shout back.
“I can’t hear you!”
“SIR, YES, SIR!”
Gang Orca spins on his heel and storms up to Katsuki, nose practically touching his.
“Especially you! Do you even want to become a hero?!”
There’s a long, beat of silence.
Then Katsuki says, “First of all, I’m not a fish turd.”
“Wrong!”
Gang Orca doesn’t hesitate—he grabs him by the collar and launches him over his shoulder. Katsuki hits the ground, rolls, and ends up right at my feet.
I stifle a giggle. Barely. If I laugh, I know I’m next. Gang Orca turns his attention to Todoroki.
“How can a pile of excrement help humanity?!”
Todoroki, calm as ever, starts, “Technically, fertilizer is essentia—”
He doesn’t even finish the sentence. Over the shoulder he goes.
“Wrong!”
Gang Orca stalks toward another student—one from Shiketsu in the signature hat.
“Do you expect to be praised just because you have a powerful quirk?!”
“Sir, yes—!”
Yeet. Gone.
Another Shiketsu student quietly shuffles her way to my side, wide-eyed, clearly hoping Orca doesn’t spot her.
I glance down at Katsuki still on the ground. “You know,” I grin, “he could’ve thrown you harder.”
He whips his head up to glare at me, seething. He opens his mouth to yell.
“Your objective,” Gang Orca cuts in, commanding attention, “is to gain the trust of civilians and demonstrate your value. You will not be graded on power. You will be graded on heart.”
“Gross,” I mutter under my breath.
Gang Orca narrows his eyes at me. “Keep that attitude up, and you’re joining them.”
“Nu-uh,” I shoot back, folding my arms. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
Before he can respond, the doors to the hall burst open—and a swarm of kindergartners come flooding in like a biblical plague of chaos. Screaming, running, sticky fingers everywhere. A true nightmare. Five-year-olds are the most ruthless creatures alive. They smell fear like blood in the water.
I glance at the group of four students about to get devoured and whisper, “Good luck. I’ll pray for you.”
Then I spin on my heel and join the rest of the group. Gang Orca doesn’t miss a beat.
“You lot failed the combat side of the exam. That’s why we have Night joining us.”
“Yo,” I say, flashing a peace sign with zero energy.
“She excels in close-quarters combat without relying on her quirk. That’s where most of you are lacking.”
Inspirational as ever. A blanket of gloom settles over the group. Some bow their heads, but they all keep their straight-backed military posture. I glance around until someone catches my eye. A girl—small, quiet, hiding behind the others like she hopes she can melt into the wall.
“You,” I say, pointing at her. “Come forward.”
She startles, then slowly shuffles forward, shoulders hunched like she’s trying to make herself invisible. She barely lifts her head.
“What’s your quirk?”
She mumbles something too soft to hear.
“Louder.”
“…Mix,” she says, voice trembling. “I can combine the quirks of two people into one. I–I can show you.”
She reaches a tentative hand toward me. I catch her wrist harshly, stopping her.
“My quirk won’t help you. Trust me.”
I let go of her wrist. She immediately pulls her arm back, rubbing the red mark I left behind. Too soft. If she doesn’t get over this fear complex, she won’t last five minutes in this world.
“Can you use your power right now?” I ask.
“No… I haven’t touched anyone yet.”
“Good. You’re powerless. That’s what I want.”
Her eyes well up—lashes wet, lip trembling. Jeez. I’m not that harsh.
“Try to land a hit on me,” I say, settling into a fighting stance.
Her eyes go wide with panic, but after a long pause, she gives me a tiny nod. Then she lunges, fist outstretched, movements clumsy and telegraphed. I sidestep with ease, hands clasped behind my back like this is a game. I bounce from side to side, ducking, weaving, letting her chase me.
This goes on for a while. I can see her frustration building—and then, finally, she grazes me. Weak. Barely a flick. But it’s something.
I see it in her eyes. Confidence. That little spark of maybe I can do this. She gets bolder. Starts taking risks. Dropping lower, moving faster. Her stance opens up.
Good. That’s how you survive. Suddenly, she drops low and sweeps her leg under mine. I stumble, letting myself fall. I hit the ground with a grunt and grab my ankle in mock pain.
“Oh no,” I say, voice strained. “You got me.”
She hesitates. Then steps closer. Reaches a hand down to help me up.
Bingo.
I plant my hands on the ground and launch myself up, wrapping my legs around her ankles. One clean twist—and she goes flying across the floor, skidding to a stop with a stunned look on her face. I stand and dust myself off.
“Enough,” Gang Orca says, cutting through the moment. “You did well.”
I smirk. Praise from this fish-faced drill sergeant? That’s a rare treat.
The girl scurries back to join the rest of the military-style lineup, head held just a bit higher.
“With that, go join the others and start combat practice,” he announces.
He turns to me, his massive frame casting a shadow across the floor.
“If you see one of them slacking,” he says, “pull them out.”
“With pleasure,” I grin.
I post up by the wall, arms crossed. Micromanaging sweaty, hormone-fueled teenagers wasn't exactly on my to-do list. They're doing fine—passable, even. For students.
Ten minutes pass.
I’m crouched down now, cheek in my palm, bored out of my mind. I let out a long, theatrical sigh. Someone fail. Someone mess up, please. Just one little explosion or a fistfight. I’m begging. A boom echoes from across the hall, followed by a puff of smoke. I barely glance over. Not my circus. Not my flaming clown car. Back to the students. Still functioning. Still not failing. Ugh.
I glance up at the clock. Thirty minutes. I’ve been babysitting overcaffeinated teens for thirty long, uneventful minutes. My head thunks against the wall.
“Can I gooooo?” I groan.
Gang Orca glares at me from a few feet away. “Is there something better you have to do?”
“In fact,” I say, already stretching, “there is.”
He waits.
“Sleep.”
He scoffs under his breath, eyes rolling hard enough I swear I hear them click.
“Just go.”
Victory. I shoot to my feet, practically skipping toward the door. Then I hear it.
“Her hair is blue! Like bubblegum!” a squeaky voice cries.
I turn, half-smiling. “Good observation, kid. Real Sherlock-level deduction there.”
My hand reaches the door handle. Sweet, sweet freedom is one twist away. Then another voice pipes up.
“Bubblegum? You’re going to be weak as anything.”
I freeze. My head whips around. A kid—what, five-years-old?—is leaned against the wall, arms crossed, smirking like he just outplayed me in everyway possible.
I march toward him, boots clicking with dangerous intent.
He doesn’t move. Just grins. “You’re not that much taller than me.”
How. How can a five-year-old be this smug?
I lean down, eye level. “Say that again, half-pint. I dare you.”
Heavy footsteps thud behind me—sharp, angry. Filled with rage. Katsuki.
I straighten, arms crossing instinctively as his presence presses against my back like a stormcloud. His hand finds my hip, resting there like a warning and a promise all at once. I fight to keep my expression neutral, but my eyes flick to the side and I swallow hard.
“You’re the leader, huh?” he mutters, voice low and gravelly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the brat shoots back, raising a brow.
Katsuki snatches the smug little brat by the wrist. The kid yelps in surprise as Katsuki hauls him toward the center of the room.
“If you’re always looking down on people,” he says, “you’ll never see where you’re weak.”
He releases the kid’s wrist and gives him a light shove toward the rest of the group. “Trust me. I learned that the hard way.”
I step up beside him and give him a punch to the shoulder. Not hard—just enough to make him flinch. He shoots me a look that screams What the hell was that for?
I smirk. “I’ll see you later.”
And with that, I turn and head for the door. Behind me, he raises a hand in a silent goodbye, not even bothering to look back.
Back at the dorms, I stretch my arms over my head before collapsing face-first onto the bed. My body sinks into the mattress like it’s finally allowed to. Sweet, sweet unconsciousness—here I come.
Knock knock.
I groan and yank a pillow over my head.
Knock knock.
“Go away!” I shout into the pillow.
Whispers. Shuffling. The unmistakable sound of people hesitating.
“…It’s Eri.”
I bolt upright and rush to the door, flinging it open almost ripping it off it’s hinges.
“Is she okay?!”
Midoriya jumps like I just hit him with a stun grenade.
“She–she’s fine!” he stammers, eyes wide.
I exhale, already halfway back into the room when his hand catches the door before it closes.
“She asked to see you.”
My heart skips. Sleep can wait.
I rake my fingers through my hair, pushing it into something vaguely presentable. “Where is she?”
“Teacher dorms,” he replies.
I nod and step out into the hall. The walk was quicker than I expected, for being on the other side of campus. Eri and Togota sit outside playing hand games. I crouch beside the two and Togota ropes me into the games. Now I’m stuck playing pat-a-cake. I notice the dress Eri is wearing. A nice change from the cloth gown she was wearing from before. I can recgoinse the brand from anywhere. Cheap garbage. I’ll take her shoping one day.
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_2091
“Are these your friends?” the doctor asks, half-smiling.
I hum in response, not trusting my voice with more than that. The doc takes it as her cue to pack up her papers, tapping the neat stack against the table before tucking it under her arm.
“We’ll talk about rehab when you’re discharged,” she says, and then she's gone.
As soon as the door clicks shut—
“Hanaaaa!” Ashido squeals, launching herself at me.
She crawls halfway up the bed like an over-excited puppy, full body weight smashing down on my bruised ribs. I cringe, teeth gritted, but it’s not like she notices. She’s glowing like I just woke up from a coma and started levitating.
Then she squeaks.
Because she’s suddenly airborne.
“Off,” Katsuki snaps, catching her by the back of her jacket and setting her down beside the bed like a misbehaving cat.
He sits down next to me, grabbing my hand without a word. Not a kiss, not even a squeeze. Just the contact. The grounding. And weirdly, it helps.
“How are you feeling?” Ashido asks, flopping into the chair beside my bed.
“I’m in a hospital. What do you think?” I deadpan.
“That’s not—!” She pouts, lips puffed out in offense.
Sero enters quietly behind her, places a stupidly large bouquet of flowers on the bedside table, and meets my gaze. I give him a look. He raises both hands like Don’t blame me. His eyes scream, Ashido made me do it.
“Where are the others?” I ask, gesturing to the empty doorframe.
“Ears and dunce face are with shitty hair,” Katsuki answers, monotone.
Ashido doesn't stop to breathe before launching into her full itinerary of the day, which includes three separate arguments with Kaminari, an explosion in the microwave, and an unfortunate glitter incident. I listen. Not because I want to. If I don’t listen, she’ll repeat it all louder.
“Anyways!” she says, throwing a couple dramatic punches in the air. “You’ll be outta here and back on the field in no time!”
I force a laugh. “Yeah, no time…”
Bakugo stands up like he’s heard enough. “Out,” he says, grabbing Ashido by the shoulder and guiding her toward the door.
“Bakugoooo, not fair!”
“I don’t give a shit. Out.”
She sulks all the way to the door like a toddler. Sero gives me a sympathetic shrug before trailing after her.
When the door shuts, I sit up straighter. “What was that outburst for?”
He doesn't answer. Instead, he stalks over to the door, draws the curtain closed, then moves to the window and pulls the blinds tight. The room dims instantly, now only lit by the overhead hospital light humming softly.
Then he turns to me, expression unreadable.
“Are you okay?” he asks, low and serious.
Not how’s your leg, not what did the doctor say. Just Are you okay?
I blink. The sarcasm in my throat dissolves before I can say it.
“…No,” I admit, voice quiet. “I’m really not.”
And he doesn’t say anything. Just sits beside me again and holds my hand a little tighter. I collapse back onto the pillow, dragging my free hand over my face. The weight of everything slams into me all at once. My chest tightens, and something deep in my stomach starts to shake—like a dam about to burst.
“I lost my quirk,” I whisper, voice cracking.
Katsuki doesn’t say a word. Just squeezes my hand a little tighter. Let it out—he doesn’t have to say it for me to hear it.
I try to breathe, just once, steady and even. But the ache’s already caught in my throat.
“She looked like Nora,” I manage. “Those eyes… the fear, the dread. It took me right back.”
Katsuki knows bits and pieces of my past. We don’t talk about it much—once after a mission when I came back bleeding and his parens helped me, and again during some hazy late-night dorm talk neither of us really remembers. All he knows is: I’m an orphan. And Japan isn’t where I started.
“I thought… I thought I could save her. Make it right this time. But then that bastard shot me—with that drug—and now I’m just… powerless.” My voice breaks. “I’m going to have to watch her die. Again.”
My throat locks up. I’m not crying, not yet, but it’s hanging by a thread.
“Scooch,” he says suddenly.
I blink at him as he nudges my arm. I shuffle over without a word, and he climbs into the hospital bed beside me. His arms come around me without hesitation, pulling my head to his chest. My ear finds the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Don’t hold it in,” he murmurs. “I know that better than anyone.”
I bite down on my lip hard enough to sting. He didn’t close the curtains and kick everyone out just for privacy. He did it so I could break. Fall apart, safely. With him.
I bury my face deeper into his shirt. My hand finds its way around his back, clinging to his hoodie like a lifeline.
“I’m not a hero anymore,” I whisper, the words like glass in my mouth.
And just like that, the dream I’ve carried since I was a kid starts to slip out of reach. After everything—after years of fighting, training, surviving—it’s fading into the distance.
“I failed you… everyone…” I choke out, the words barely slipping past the tears.
“You haven’t failed shit,” Katsuki snaps, firm and certain. “You won this—and you’ll keep winning.”
—
“Fucking—fuck you…” I grumble, kicking the vending machine with my good leg.
Katsuki had offered to grab something from the lobby to cheer me up. As if. Like I’m gonna stay cooped up in that hospital room while he plays errand boy. Now here we are—and the damn machine's jammed.
Ashido swings her legs beside me, cheerful as ever, sipping at her strawberry milk.
“Poetry,” she giggles, watching me lose my mind.
Katsuki’s got an arm looped around my waist, holding me up. He’s smacking the glass, fingers starting to spark.
“Don’t,” I warn, glaring at him.
He growls under his breath and shoves his hands deep into his pockets.
A cough breaks the tension. We all turn to see Aizawa watching us with that same tired, unimpressed stare.
“Sorry to interrupt… whatever that was,” he says flatly. “Hana, Sir Nighteye wants to see you.”
My heart skips.
He’s still alive. I place a hand on Katsuki’s chest, and he immediately loosens his grip around my waist.
“I’ll be fine,” I say softly.
He hesitates, but nods, letting me go. I follow Aizawa through the hospital corridors. The farther we walk, the heavier the scent of antiseptic and chemicals becomes. It's sterile. Too clean. Like it’s trying to scrub out death. After a few turns, we stop in front of a dimly lit room. Nurses and doctors move with urgency, their faces tight with fatigue. Through the window, I spot someone familiar.
“…Toshinori?” I blink, surprised.
All Might stands at Nighteye’s bedside, small and hollow in his skeletal form. I weave through the cluster of people, stepping into the room.
“Took you long enough,” Nighteye rasps, his voice muffled behind his oxygen mask, fogging slightly with each breath.
Even now—on the brink—he’s still scolding me. I scoff, biting back the emotion.
“You taught her well, All Might,” Nighteye says, turning his gaze to Toshinori. “She’ll grow into a mighty hero.”
I should feel proud—but the way he says it... it’s like he’s already writing me into the future. Like I’m still in training. But I am a hero. And yet… the look in his eyes, soft and filled with admiration, eases the sting. It’s not a judgment. It’s farewell.
I turn to Toshinori. “What brings you here?”
He clenches his fists tightly, gaze low before finally facing his old friend.
“I… I couldn’t face you. I was too much of a coward to swallow my pride. Please forgive me.”
“I never resented you,” Nighteye says gently. “Not for what happened between us.”
Midoriya appears at the bedside, practically trembling. “Hang in there! You’ll be okay, Nighteye!”
I stare at the floor. The machines beep like a countdown, and the tubes and metal still jutting from Nighteye’s stomach are a brutal reminder—there’s no miracle waiting. False hope clings to the air like fog. But Nighteye knows better. And so do I. Quietly, I slip out of the room, pausing at the door for one last look. One last goodbye.
–
I knock on the door, and a gentle, “Come in,” answers.
I slip into the room, meeting Eri’s eyes. She doesn’t smile, but they light up when she sees me. That twinkle makes my chest ache—in the best way.
“How are you, Snowdrop?”
The nickname slips out too easily. Too naturally. I’m not ready to let go of Nora. And Eri—she’s not a replacement.
I pull a chair to her bedside as the nurse finishes taking her temperature.
“All good,” the nurse says. “You’re getting better.”
Once the door shuts behind her, Eri sits up a little straighter, turning to the window.
“I like that name,” she whispers.
Snowdrop.
I bite the inside of my cheek. That flower—delicate, soft, but brave enough to bloom through snow. Symbol of hope. Of rebirth. I breathe deep, chasing away the sting in my eyes.
“You’ve talked to Lemillion and Deku, Snowdrop?” I ask.
She nods, inching around to face me fully.
“I’m going on a date with them.”
“The school festival, right?”
Another nod. She fidgets with the corner of the blanket in her lap.
“That man…” she starts, voice barely above a breath, “with the green hair and glasses… Is he okay?”
Midoriya told me what they’d decided. Eri doesn’t need the full truth. Not yet. Not this soon.
“Yes,” I say softly. “He’s okay now. He’s no longer in pain.”
-
Nighteye passed during the night.
His funeral is set for the coming days.
As much as I don’t want to go—out of spite—I know I should. He deserves that much.
The venue is cloaked in the soft haze of incense. Streams of it curl through the air like spirits. Ironic. Heroes and officers who were part of the raid gather to pay their respects. One by one, they come and go. But even after the room empties, Uraraka and Tsuyu remain at the front.
I step up beside them. “So,” I say quietly, “how does it feel to get a taste of what being a hero is really like?”
Uraraka’s breath catches, and tears begin to spill freely. “Maybe…” she says, voice breaking, “If I’d been faster… he might still be alive.”
I place a hand on her shoulder, giving it a firm rub. “You did everything you could within your power.”
She bows her head, shoulders trembling. The words your power echo in her silence.
I sigh. “Let me rephrase that. Even if you’d gotten him to the paramedics the second he was hit, he still would’ve died. But because of you, he lived for a few more days. That matters.”
She nods, leaning into me. I tense as she rubs her snotty nose against my jacket. God. Gross. Tsuyu lingers close, gently rubbing her back.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I mutter, gently pushing Uraraka away. “I’ve got places to be.”
“Thanks, Hana,” she says with a sniffly smile.
I hum in response, waving lazily as I head out.
The walk back to the dorms is excruciating. The moment I spot a convenience store, I bolt inside and grab a pack of wet wipes. I sit on the curb outside, scrubbing at the wet, snot-stained shoulder of my jacket. This was expensive. Now it’s marked. Uraraka’s legacy.
After burning through the whole pack, I’m left with a damp patch and a bad mood. I toss the empty wrapper in the trash and continue my walk. I’m just minding my business when a whistle cuts through the air.
“Give us a smile, love.”
My head turns. A cluster of construction workers sit on the sidewalk. I keep walking.
“Aw, don’t be like that! We’ll treat you real nice!”
I grit my teeth. I have a boyfriend, jackass.
“C’mon sweetheart, we’re just being nice! You don’t gotta be so sad!”
I stop.
Turn.
Walk straight toward them. Their laughter quiets as I approach, smug grins faltering.
“You wanna know why I’m not smiling?” I ask. “Because I’ve just been to a FUCKING FUNERAL!”
The color drains from their faces. I spin on my heel and march away, huffing.
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List Pairing:
Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_2140
I watch as the sparkle in Lemillion’s eyes dims. My grip tightens around Eri’s trembling form. She’s shaking so badly I can feel it down to my bones.
“I’m okay…” Lemillion says, voice hoarse as he forces himself to his feet.
He’s up in a flash, back in the fight, weaving between Overhaul’s outstretched hands. It’s unbelievable—he’s still woozy from that bastard in the hallway, same as me, and yet he fights like it doesn’t matter.
Everything is a blur. Concrete spikes erupt from the ground. I clutch Eri tight, dodging as they crash beside us, slicing up chunks of floor and wall.
Then—Lemillion is hit. A spike tears through his stomach and he stumbles back, blood spilling from the wound. I set Eri down gently.
“Stay here,” I whisper. Her eyes are wide with panic, but she nods.
Overhaul charges. I move in fast, catching him with a dodge, then twisting under his reach. My hand clamps under his chin. He snarls, but before he can react, I slam him to the ground. He crashes hard onto his stomach, writhing beneath me. A gunshot cracks through the chaos. I phase just in time, the bullet passing clean through me. I whip around—of course. That corrupt doctor. He’s crumpled on the floor now, the gun slipping from his grasp.
But that moment of distraction is all Overhaul needs. He twists beneath me, his hand slamming toward the ground—but nothing happens. I jump back, just in case. His quirk is unpredictable, and I’ve seen what he can do with a single touch.
Then—footsteps. Reinforcements. A group of heroes rush in like a tide breaking through the door. I backpedal to Eri and drop to my knees beside her. She immediately curls into me, small fingers gripping at my sleeve.
“You did good,” I murmur to her. “We’re okay now.”
Lemillion limps back toward us, barely standing. Nighteye moves to support him, looping an arm under his shoulder. Then he walks over to me and Eri.
“You found her,” he says softly. “Good job.”
I glare up at him, bracing for some kind of smug remark or judgmental look—but I’m caught off guard. His eyes aren’t cold. They’re filled with… admiration? And something else—guilt, maybe.
“It’s what we do,” I mutter, brushing it off, even though the weight of it sits heavy in my chest.
The fight is still raging on. Overhaul is cornered by Midoriya and Erasurehead, both hammering him with everything they’ve got. I keep my eyes locked on them—on their movements, on the chaos—but something else catches my attention.
There—by their feet.
A man in a white cloak starts to move. I don’t recognize him immediately, but then a glint of metal flashes. A blade shoots from under his hood, slicing across Erasurehead’s side. He drops like a stone.
The cloaked man rises, slow and shaky, but in his hand is a gun. Not just any gun. My blood runs cold. It's the same kind that stole Lemillion’s quirk. And it’s pointed at Midoriya. I bolt to my feet. He can’t lose his quirk. We need it. The world needs it.
“Move! You idiot!” I scream, waving my arm at the danger. But he’s too focused—he doesn’t even flinch, too locked into staying alive to register what I’m yelling about.
I can’t rely on my quirk. Not now. If I phase him, the bullet might pass through him… if it works right. No. I can’t risk it. I weave through the rubble and dust and fighting limbs, grabbing Midoriya’s arm and yanking him out of the way just as he’s about to lunge. Too early.
Bang.
The shot rings out behind me, and my heart drops into my stomach.
No.
The world moves in slow motion. I turn, instinct screaming, body already reacting. I twist around, shoving myself in front of him. The needle pierces my arm. A shock rushes through me—cold, crawling, electric. I can feel the serum rushing through my veins, spreading like ink in water, down through my chest, my stomach, my legs.
My legs.
They give out. Midoriya catches me just before I hit the ground, arms strong and panicked. His eyes are wide with horror, but there’s no time. I grab the front of his suit and shake my head.
“I’m okay.”
He doesn’t argue. Just moves. Fast. Carries me to the edge of the room, near the exit, and sets me down as gently as he can. His hands hesitate, just for a second, and I swear I see something like guilt flash in his eyes. Then he’s gone—back into the fray, back to stop Overhaul. I slump against the wall, breathing hard, arm burning where the bullet struck. My quirk… it’s gone. But Midoriya still has his. That’s all what matters. I catch a glimpse of Eri and Lemillion out of the corner of my eye. Without thinking, I hurry over to them. Nighteye is gone—off helping Midoriya. I crouch down, meeting Eri’s eyes, and force a small smile despite the chaos still echoing behind us.
“You’re going to be okay, you hear?” I say gently.
She gives the tiniest nod and leans into Lemillion’s side, her little hands clutching his blood-stained cape.
Midoriya returns, panting hard, his eyes scanning all of us. “Can you walk?” he asks Lemillion.
“Yeah. No problem,” Lemillion answers, but his voice shakes. He’s trying to sound strong, but every breath seems like it might be his last.
Midoriya nods, then smashes through the nearby wall with a single punch. An escape route.
“Let’s go,” I say quickly.
But Eri doesn’t move. Her fingers graze the soaked fabric of Lemillion’s outfit, and she freezes.
“No…” she whispers, voice trembling. “That’s enough.”
She curls in on herself, shrinking into the floor. Tears slip down her face. “I’m so sorry…”
A sharp gasp tears through the battlefield, yanking all our attention back. My blood turns to ice.
“Sir!” Lemillion shouts, voice breaking.
I don’t want to believe what I’m seeing.
Nighteye—someone so confident in his invincibility—is speared through the stomach and arm by a massive spike of concrete. Blood paints the floor beneath him, spreading fast. Fatal. That’s the only word that rings in my head.
“Take Eri and go!” Midoriya yells, rushing to his side.
I slip my arm under Lemillion’s and help him move. He leans heavily into me, limping, teeth gritted against the pain. Eri grabs my free hand, clinging tightly. We make around a few corners beyond the shattered wall before Lemillion collapses against a wall, sliding down with a groan. The trail of blood behind him is glaring.
“You two go,” he says, looking up at Eri. His voice is gentle but urgent. “Dozens of people are here to save you. You’re going to be okay.”
Eri nods—but only slightly. Then a voice echoes through the walls. Low, cruel, unforgettable.
“Someone else is going to die because of you! Is that what you want, Eri?”
She stiffens. Her hand goes ice cold in mine.
“Eri—” I start, but I’m too late.
She rips her hand from mine and bolts. I try to run after her, but pain shoots through my leg and I collapse with a cry. Damn it. I drag myself to the wall, gritting my teeth as I fumble for my pocket knife. My fingers are numb, slick with blood, but I manage to flip it open. With shaky hands, I slice through the fabric around the concrete spike in my leg.
I nearly gag at the sight—dried blood crusted over, pus seeping out from the edges. Infection. Awesome. I rip a strip of cloth loose and tie it tight above the wound, biting down a scream. The adrenaline is fading fast, and everything I’ve been ignoring—the bruises, the cuts, the aching muscles—comes crashing in like a tidal wave.
Beside me, Lemillion is slumped against the wall, his shoulders trembling. One hand covers his eyes, trying to hide the way his lip quivers. I don’t say what I want to—what I should say. That Nighteye will be okay. That he’ll make it. Because I know it’s not true. He might survive the night, maybe even a few days hooked up to machines, but…
I rest a hand on Lemillion’s shoulder and squeeze gently. “You’ll be okay,” I say instead. It’s not a lie. Not entirely. He will be. Someday.
We sit in silence. The kind that feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. Then I hear footsteps—fast but careful. Asui appears through the haze, her wide eyes locking on us. She rushes over and crouches, supporting Lemillion with one arm while helping me up with the other. Her touch is steady, grounding.
More footsteps thunder behind her. Police, heroes, medics. Voices blur together in the noise. A patrol officer comes to my side and carefully drapes my arm over his shoulders, helping me hobble toward the surface. Everything’s spinning. The world feels far away. I glance back over my shoulder one last time before they guide me into the waiting ambulance.
That’s when I see her. Eri. Wrapped in a too-big blanket, tucked into Midoriya’s arms like something precious. She’s safe. That’s all I need.
—
“OW!” I yelp.
“That doesn’t hurt,” the doctor replies flatly.
I sit up and glare. “How would you know?”
He just stares at me for a long, tired second before letting out a sigh. Yep—he’s so done with me.
“The nerves were severed,” he says, walking back to the counter. “You can’t feel anything below your knee.”
Welp. He got me there.
I flop back onto the pillow with a groan. Of course I end up at this hospital. The same one with Dr. Grim-and-Grump, who treats every visit like I’m personally wasting his time. I could walk in with a paper cut and he’d scold me like I ran headfirst into traffic.
He finishes wrapping the wound, then moves to the sink, scrubbing his hands. Once he’s done, he drags a chair over to my bedside and starts scribbling on a clipboard.
Ah, yes. The dreaded clipboard. I’m officially trapped for the next few days.
“You’re leg has been butchered, to say the least,” he begins.
“Wow. Reassuring.”
He ignores me. “The spike tore through most of the muscle and shattered the bones. We repaired what we could.”
I snort. “No shit.”
He holds up his pen, annoyed. “I’m not finished. With current healing technology, this is the best we can do. You’ll have limited mobility. Weakness. Soreness. Possibly permanent.”
Great. Just great.
I stare at the ceiling, biting back a hundred curses. “Any more amazing news?”
He doesn’t even look up.
“Your quirk is gone,” he says—and walks out the door.
Even better.
I press my hands to my face. There goes my hero career—straight out the window, just like that. Not with a bang, but with one stupid needle. My leg’s useless, my quirk is gone, and I’m stuck in this hellhole hospital with that walking raincloud of a doctor.
The door clicks open. Footsteps, soft ones. Papers rustle by my bedside. I poke my head up, expecting Grumpy McClipboard again—but nope. A new doctor, a woman this time. She keeps fiddling with the wedding ring on her finger, twisting it around and around. Nervous habit.
She catches me staring. “Sorry,” she says with a sheepish laugh. “Still getting used to it. It’s only new.”
“Congrats,” I mumble, eyes still fixed on the ring. It’s massive—practically a disco ball. Doesn't help that it's too big and keeps slipping down her finger.
She pulls a machine closer and starts checking my vitals. “He’s a hero too,” she adds casually. “Doubt you’d know him. He’s not a fan of fame.”
I just nod, staring ahead. Small talk. My favorite.
She shines a light in my eyes, then makes me open my mouth like I’m five years old. “All good,” she says. “Now onto the bloods.”
Great.
She wheels over a chair and opens a folder on her lap, all business now. “As my apprentice so rudely put it—you’re quirkless.”
A grin tugs at my lips. Apprentice. Now we’re talking. I’ve got ammo.
“The machine nearly had an aneurysm running your tests,” she continues, flipping pages. “Fascinating, really. Your blood, your DNA—it’s gone back in time. Before your quirk ever manifested.”
She keeps going, launching into full-on TED Talk mode. I catch words like mutational regression, genetic instability, and cellular rewriting. A chatterbox. Great. I thought I was getting a break from Ashido. I rest my head back against the pillow, tuning her out just a little. Not because I don’t care—but because if I start caring too much, I might scream. Quirkless. Weak leg. Career in flames.
Speak of the devil, Ashido pokes her head through the door. Her face lights up when we meet eyes.
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_2438
“Whoa there!”
A voice cuts between us, and a small man suddenly pops up between me and Nighteye.
“Hana, a word,” Gran Torino says.
I grumble under my breath but follow him out of the conference room. The door clicks shut behind us, sealing the conversation inside.
I cross my arms. “What do you want?”
“It’s not what I want,” he says, tapping his walking stick against the floor. “It’s what you need.”
I scoff. “Great. You don’t need to go full guardian mode on me, Grandpa.”
He exhales, long and measured. “Let it go, child.”
My jaw clenches. “Let it go? LET—” I whirl around, jabbing a finger toward the conference room. “You’re on his side, Torino? Seriously?! I won’t listen to shit that comes out of your mouth!”
He says nothing. Just watches me with that sharp, knowing gaze of his.
Finally, he speaks. “Toshinori did well mentoring you. But that doesn’t mean you have to follow him forever.”
Then, just like that, he turns and walks back into the conference room, leaving me fuming in the hallway.
I’m still seething when a hand clamps down on my shoulder.
Instinct kicks in before thought—I whip around and punch the person in the face.
“FUCK!” I yell, shaking out my hand as pain explodes up my knuckles.
“Sorry! Sorry! Habbit!” Kirishima groans, stumbling back as he releases his Quirk.
I clutch my wrist, staring at the blood trickling from the cuts on my knuckles. My heart is still hammering, my breath ragged.
Damn it.
“Let me help—” Kirishima’s voice is tight with guilt.
I hold up a hand to stop him, shaking my head before walking away. I don’t want his pity.
Outside, I lean against my bike, dabbing at the cuts with a cotton ball soaked in iodine. The sting bites into my skin, sharp and raw, but there’s something soothing about it. A pain I can control.
“Hey,” a voice intrudes, smooth and familiar.
I don’t bother looking up. “Get lost, Darium.”
“Whoa, who pissed in your coffee?” He chuckles.
I glare at him, and his smirk falters just slightly. Good. He nods to himself, then extends a hand toward me.
I hesitate before begrudgingly placing my bloodied knuckles in his palm. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he begins wrapping a bandage around my hand.
“So,” he muses, “who’d you hit this time?”
Before I can stop myself, the truth slips out. “A friend.”
Darium raises an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eye. “A friend? Didn’t know you had any of those.”
I yank my hand back, grabbing the bandage to finish the job myself.
“I’m kidding,” he says, laughing as he pulls my arm back with little effort. He’s quiet for a beat, then speaks again. “You missed the meeting.”
I hum in response, focused on tying the bandage. “I’ll figure it out.”
He watches me for a moment before exhaling. “Yeah… you always do.”
–
The crowd of heroes is overwhelming—too many voices, too many people I don’t want to talk to. I weave through them, ignoring the brush of shoulders and snippets of anxious conversation, heading straight for the center.
“You’re too early,” Nighteye comments, barely sparing me a glance.
“Fuck you,” I grumble, pushing past him and his sidekicks to reach my own.
This is not how I wanted to start this raid. When I’m early, I’m late. When I’m on time, I’m early. What the hell do you want from me, dickhead?
Sylvie is stumbling through a string of flustered apologies, bowing to Nighteye as if it’ll smooth things over. I tune it out. Instead, my gaze catches Uraraka and Tsuyu watching from a few steps away. They hesitate for a moment before heading toward me.
No. Stay over there.
“I’m so nervous!” Uraraka says, practically bouncing in place as she shakes out her hands. “Do you have any tips?”
“Don’t die.”
“Helpful,” Tsuyu deadpans.
My phone buzzes. I fish it out from one of the many pockets in my hero costume. The name flashing across the screen makes me pause. Boom Boy.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
“What’s going on in your world at—” I yank Darium’s arm toward me and glance at his watch. “7:28 AM?”
Silence. Then, hushed muttering on the other end.
“…Be safe. I guess?”
I chuckle. “You gotta be more genuine than that, Kats. Or I’m gonna start thinking you actually want me dead.”
He groans. “Damn it, woman!” A deep breath. Then, gruff but steady—“Stay safe. Come back alive so I can see that dumb face of yours.”
The call ends abruptly, but I’m left smiling to myself.
“You two are so cute!” Uraraka gushes.
My smile vanishes as I shove my phone back in my pocket. “You saw nothing.”
“Oh-ho-ho? Am I missing something?”
I whip around to find my sidekicks staring at me. Darium is grinning from ear to ear. Damn it. He’s been sniffing for dirt on me, and now he finally has something.
“Who’s the lucky guy? Or girl? No judgment here,” he teases, flicking his nose. “My gaydar never lies.”
I narrow my eyes. “Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you have good gaydar.”
Darium peeks behind me at the two girls. They shake their heads furiously, eyes wide with panic. Good, I think, smirking. I taught them well.
As the heroes gather at the gates of the Yakuza base, I start making my way over.
“It’s a guy,” I call out behind me.
Darium groans in agony. Reyna silently holds out her hand, and with a defeated sigh, he slaps a fifty-dollar note into her palm.
—
Before long, we’re storming through the halls. Lemillion charges ahead with Nighteye—damn that man and his stupidly useful Quirk.
Suddenly, the ground rumbles beneath us. Everyone freezes. Then, the walls around us start to shift, the tunnel ahead morphing like liquid.
I press my back against Aizawa’s, scanning the surroundings.
“Eraser, you see anything?”
He hums in disapproval. “Nothing yet.”
We're already down one man—Suneater stayed behind to fend off some thugs. At least it's only one. Let’s hope he comes back alive.
A deep creaking echoes through the tunnel, and before I can react, a massive cylinder juts out from the wall, barreling straight for Aizawa and me. It’s too fast—I freeze. Then, a harsh shove against my back sends me flying forward. I catch a glimpse of Fatgum just as the walls close behind him, sealing him away. My eyes scan the room—more people are missing. Kirishima. Another third-year student. I scoff. Great. Less manpower.
Lemillion suddenly bolts down the hall.
“Hey!” I shout. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Let him be,” Nighteye says.
I whip around, glaring at him. Damn you! Keep an eye on your own damn intern!
"Go after him," Nighteye orders.
I blink. "Excuse me? Didn't you just say to let him be? You're full of contradictions, man."
"His emotions are leading him. If you go, you’ll push him to perform better so he won’t look so bad."
"Fuck you, dude!" I snap before taking off. Anything to get away from that jackass.
Up ahead, a flash of blond hair catches my eye. I follow close behind, keeping pace. Lemillion phases straight through a wall, and a shit-eating grin spreads across my face. Guess I’m useful after all, huh? Without hesitation, I phase through after him.
"Calm your nerves," I say, catching up. "We’ll get there faster than anyone else. Just breathe."
Lemillion skids to a stop, exhales deeply, then takes off again. We weave through walls for what feels like minutes before emerging into a long, empty hallway.
Two men stand before us.
“No one should have made it this far,” the one in the plague mask mutters—Overhaul, Kai Chisaki.
“Took a shortcut,” I say casually.
“Give us the girl,” Lemillion demands.
"Straight to the point, huh? Well, let me do the same—you two are going to die down here."
Overhaul turns, walking further down the hall. We rush after him, but before we can reach him, a nauseating wave crashes over us. My vision swims, my stomach twists, and my knees buckle beneath me. Lemillion stumbles, catching himself against the wall.
"Feelin’ sloshed?" A voice drawls from above. "The floor’s too unstable—that’s why I’m walkin’ up here!"
I glance up. A man hangs from the ceiling, chugging sake straight from the bottle. A quirk. Of course.
I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stand. Breathe. Walk. Move.
Gunshots ring out. I phase without thinking.
A voice echoes through the corridor, calm and controlled. "What are your quirks?"
My mouth moves before my brain can stop it. "Ghost. I can become intangible, pass through anything—living or not. I can extend it to objects and others."
"Permeation," Lemillion follows immediately. "I can phase through anything."
Our eyes meet in a silent, what the fuck? moment. Sweat beads on my forehead.
"You can make people tell the truth, huh?" I say, my voice sharp as I eye the plague mask. "Corrupt doctor."
"Correct."
Great. He launches into a full-blown pride-filled tangent—how his quirk is superior, how Kai Chisaki is an unstoppable God.Could he be any more biased?He fires a few more rounds, but the bullets pass through us without resistance.
"He’s torturing his own daughter, and you call him a god?" Lemillion’s voice is tight with anger.
The man clicks his tongue. "You’d best keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you." He lazily twirls the gun around his finger before smirking. "When you first met Eri, you let her go back to the boss, didn’t you?"
Lemillion stiffens. "Yeah, I did," he admits, his face going pale.
I don’t think—just reach out and rest a hand on his shoulder. The guilt must be suffocating him, and this piece of shit knows exactly how to twist the knife.
"Then you learned the truth. You found out what we were doing to her, and regret started eating you alive." His voice drips with condescension. "That’s why you’re here now—to save the child and ease your own conscience."
Lemillion doesn’t move, his expression locked in guilt.
"You’re no hero," the man taunts. "You’re just trying to make yourself feel better."
A cruel laugh echoes through the hallway. He thinks he’s won. He thinks he’s broken Lemillion.
Then, in an instant, Lemillion vanishes—phasing straight through the floor. A second later, he bursts from an entirely different direction, taking out both men before they even register what’s happening.
"Nice!" I grin, leaping over the bodies.
We sprint toward the little girl cradled in the arms of a criminal.
"That was fast," one of them mumbles.
Lemillion lunges at Overhaul, but the villain dodges with inhuman speed. Instead of stopping, Lemillion pivots mid-air, his leg shooting toward the man holding Eri. His foot phases through the girl, re-materializing just in time to smash into the man’s face.
I surge forward, arms outstretched, and catch her as she falls. She clings to me immediately, tiny fingers gripping the fabric of my costume with desperate strength. I glance down at her—and freeze. Wide, terrified eyes stare back at me, a look of pure fear carved into her delicate features. But that’s not the worst part. She looks like Nora.
My breath catches. That expression—absolute, heart-wrenching terror—was the last thing I ever saw on my little sister’s face. And now, somehow, this girl who looks so much like her is staring at me the same way. But this time, I can do something.
"Please..." Eri's voice is small, trembling. "Leave me, or he’ll kill you!"
"Shh," I whisper, holding her closer. "You’re safe. Don’t worry about him."
Lemillion steps in front of us, shielding us from Overhaul’s glare. He turns slightly, flashing Eri a reassuring smile. She relaxes—just a little.
"Come back, Eri," Overhaul commands. His voice is calm, almost scolding, like a parent correcting a misbehaving child. "How many times do I have to tell you? It’s your fault. You break people."
"Please go..." Eri whispers, pleading with us.
"Don’t listen to him," Lemillion says firmly.
"You know how this goes," Overhaul continues, his voice cold and methodical. "I have to clean up your mess because of your selfishness. Every action you take results in someone dying. You are a cursed human."
Eri trembles in my arms. One hand clamps over her ear, the other presses tightly against my shoulder. Her tiny fingernails dig into my arm, desperate to shut out his words.
"How could you say that to your own daughter?!" Lemillion shouts, fury burning in his eyes.
Overhaul chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh, right. That’s the story I told you." He slowly removes his gloves and lets them drop to the floor. "I don’t have any children."
His bare hand touches the ground. The world around us shatters. The floor collapses, twisting and reforming in an instant. Jagged spikes of stone shoot up from the ground.
I clutch Eri tighter, ready to phase us through the attack—but nothing happens. Her skin doesn’t glow like it should when I touch someone.
Shit.
There’s no time to think. I hoist her up above my head, out of reach of the spikes. Another wave erupts from the ground. I don’t move fast enough. One of them tears through my leg.
White-hot pain shoots through me, but I grit my teeth and hold in the scream. Eri shivers in my grasp, clinging to me as I keep her safe above the chaos.
Lemillion is already ahead, keeping Overhaul’s lackeys busy. The moment Overhaul’s focus shifts away from us, I carefully lower Eri back into my arms. Then, without hesitation, I slam my leg against the concrete to snap the spike off. A choked groan escapes my lips, but I force myself to climb down.
Eri watches Lemillion in awe, tears brimming in her wide eyes, the faintest blush dusting her cheeks. I set her gently on the ground before collapsing beside her, breathing hard through the pain.
Then I see it.
Out of the corner of my eye, a gun, glinting under the dim light, aimed directly at Eri. That damn corrupt doctor. I can't move fast enough.
He’s going to hit her.
Time slows. The gun is locked on Eri. The pain in my leg is too much. My body feels heavy, my quirk unresponsive. Eri clutches the hem of my costume, frozen in fear. She doesn't see the gun. I do.
In an instant, Lemillion is in front of us, hurling himself in the path of the bullet. The gun cracks as Lemilion curls over on the floor.
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_1879
“What’s the diagnosis, Doc?” I ask with a cheerful tone that belies my inner dread.
The doctor’s eyes narrow as he studies his computer screen. “This is no laughing matter,” he replies flatly.
He taps at his keyboard for a moment before draping a stethoscope around his neck. Sliding over to me in his chair, he begins, “First, that arm hasn’t healed. You’re doing a lot of damage without a splint.”
I scoff, silently cursing that he’s right—Toshinori was right.
“Second…” He pauses, letting out a heavy sigh. “The trauma to your head is irreversible.”
I press a hand to my forehead, my confused look saying everything. He notices immediately.
“Your quirk has weakened significantly,” he explains, placing his pen at the back of my head. “You got hit in the right spot.”
I leave the hospital with a splint and a tub of medication. From Toshinori’s guily look on his face, I know what he did.
“You told the student didn’t you?”
He nods.
Later that night, I sit curled up in the corner of the common room, the only light coming from the moon shining through the window. A book rests open in my lap, but I’m barely paying attention to the words. My ears pick up the soft creak of the front door opening, quiet footsteps, and hushed voices. I glance up, watching as Bakugo and Midoriya slip outside. It’s midnight.
My eyebrows lift as Midoriya whisper-shouts, desperation in his voice. “Talk to me! What is it about my quirk?”
No way.
I set my book down carefully and slip out of my seat, my heart picking up speed. There’s no way Midoriya would’ve said that if he knew I was here. I follow at a safe distance, keeping to the shadows, ears sharp. Midoriya keeps throwing questions at Bakugo, his voice strung tight with emotion. Bakugo says nothing. His hands stay shoved deep in his pockets as he leads Midoriya toward Ground Beta.
I press my back against the cold metal of the building, ears tuned to their voices.
He figured it out. Of course he did—he’s Bakugo.
“We’re settling this, right here, right now,” Bakugo growls, his voice low but firm.
Midoriya stumbles over his words. “Now?! How about we talk about this during our free periods? Rent a training room, maybe?” His nervous laugh is weak.
“If we fight for real there, we’ll be stopped.”
Yeah, no shit. My heart plummets as the realization sets in. This is happening. And as much as I want to intervene—I can’t. This isn’t my battle. It’s theirs. I’d only make things worse.
“I want to know,” Bakugo continues, voice raw with something more than just anger, “why a loser like you got chosen, even though I looked up to All Might just as much as you.”
Silence. A thick, heavy silence that feels like a held breath.
Then, Midoriya’s voice, uncertain. “Wait, here?! You want to fight?!”
“If you don’t want to get hurt—punch back.”
A burst of explosions. A heavy thud. I grit my teeth, fists clenched at my sides as the fight begins. For the next few minutes, all I can do is listen. I hear the huffing, the rapid footfalls, the familiar BOOM of Bakugo’s quirk colliding with the ground. I don’t move—I just wait, ready to step in if either of them goes too far.
Then, suddenly—a hand lands on my shoulder.
I jump out of my skin, flailing and swatting wildly at whatever the hell just touched me.
“It’s me, calm down,” Toshinori’s voice whispers, steady and calm.
I clutch my chest, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Jeez, don’t scare me like that,” I hiss.
The loud booming stops.
I peek around the corner just in time to see them standing before each other, their bodies tense, breaths heavy.
“Why…?” Bakugo seethes, his voice raw. “Why did you become All Might’s favorite?” His fists clench at his sides, shaking. Then, his voice cracks. “Did you hear about Hana? How can I live knowing I did that?!”
Silence hangs thick between them. Midoriya opens his mouth, but Bakugo isn’t done.
“And am I the reason All Might lost his quirk?!”
I slap a hand over my mouth as I slide down the wall, my chest tightening. This is why he’s been avoiding me. He feels guilty. That hug a few days ago… I should have known.
Tears spill over my lashes before I can stop them. I bury my head in my knees, trying to muffle the quiet sniffles from Toshinori. But then, a gentle hand rubs the top of my head, and that’s all it takes. The dam breaks, and the floodgates open. I clutch at my hair, gasping for air like I’m drowning. The sound of their fighting starts up again, but it’s just noise now—distant, muffled, like I’m underwater. My chest tightens. My head pounds.
How did I not see this sooner?
The guilt in his voice, the way he’s been avoiding me, the way he hugged me days ago, like he was afraid to let go. How did I miss it?
A sob forces its way out of me, raw and broken. Toshinor gently presses my head against his leg. The warmth, the pressure—it’s grounding. I latch onto him, wrapping my arms around his calf, clutching the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart. I shake against him, my tears soaking into his pants, and he just lets me.
He doesn’t try to comfort me with words. Doesn’t tell me to calm down. He just rests a hand on the back of my head, rubbing slow, steady circles. Because what can he say? What words could possibly make this better?
Eventually, the sobs die down. My body still feels hollow, my chest raw from crying. I let go of Toshinori and wipe at my face with trembling fingers. He shifts beside me, inhaling deeply. It’s time.
"Come on," he says, his voice quiet but firm. He stands, offering a hand.
I hesitate before taking it. His fingers brush against my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. I slap his hand away, rubbing my sleeve over my face instead. He nods like he expected that.
The sounds of their fight have faded, leaving only the heavy silence that lingers after something real has been said. Midoriya and Bakugo stand before each other, barely moving, barely breathing.
We step forward. Midoriya jolts, scrambling to explain, his words rushed and frantic. "It’s not—It’s not what it sounded like, I—"
"We heard everything," I say, my voice hoarse.
Toshinori exhales beside me, guilt heavy in his posture. "I should have noticed sooner," he murmurs, voice tight.
Bakugo stiffens. He stares at the ground, fists clenched at his sides, before muttering, "It’s too late now."
His voice cracks. I bite my lip, struggling to hold back more tears. He’s been living with this guilt for so long, letting it fester, letting it consume him. It’s eating him alive.
I want to say something—anything—but I know the moment I open my mouth, I’ll just collapse into sobs again.
Then Bakugo looks at me—that look.
Raw, unfiltered emotion. A shaky breath slips past my lips as the last of my walls crumble. My feet move before I can think, and suddenly, I’m throwing my arms around his neck, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping me standing. He stiffens for half a second before his arms wrap around my waist, one hand tangling into my hair, pulling me closer.
"I missed you."
His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. "Why did you pick Deku?" His grip tightens slightly. "It started with the sludge villain, right?"
Toshinori steps toward us, his voice even but filled with regret. "He was quirkless, but he had more will than any hero. You were already strong, already capable. I wanted to give him a chance."
Bakugo exhales sharply through his nose, but Toshinori keeps going, standing before us like a guardian trying to soothe a wound too deep to heal with words alone.
"I was always going to lose my power," Toshinori says softly. "This is not your burden to bear, Young Bakugo."
Then, to my surprise, he pulls us both into a loose embrace, his long arms wrapping around us as if trying to shield us from the weight of everything we've been carrying.
"Sometimes," he murmurs, "I forget that you’re still children."
Children. The word lingers, heavy and suffocating. Bakugo slaps his hand away, stepping back, his expression hardening again. Toshinori launches into a speech—one about wanting to win, about wanting to save people. It’s passionate, but I don’t hear a word of it.
I bury myself deeper into Bakugo’s shoulder, my body shaking as I cry silently into him. His scent, his warmth, his stubborn, gruff attitude—it’s all so achingly familiar.
I missed him. I missed this.
By the time he finishes speaking, Bakugo scoffs. "That’s not what I wanted to hear."
Silence settles over us. It’s not uncomfortable. Just heavy.
Then Bakugo shifts, his grip still firm around me. "Talk. Who knows about you two?"
I push back slightly, wiping at my face. "Principal Nezu, Recovery Girl, a few heroes… and myself."
Before I can move away completely, he pulls me right back, locking me in place.
"Tch." He huffs, voice quiet but firm. "And you don’t want this to get out?"
I shake my head. He exhales through his nose, his voice dropping into something softer, something steadier.
"Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me."
Toshinori exhales shakily, his usually bright demeanor dimmed by the weight of the moment. "I should be on my hands and knees, begging you to keep this secret. You have no idea how much this means to me."
Back at the dorms, I watch with quiet amusement as Toshinori stumbles over his words, fumbling to shield the two from a harsher punishment. His voice drops to a whisper as he leans into Aizawa, murmuring something in his ear. Whatever he says makes Aizawa’s shoulders loosen slightly, the tension in his jaw easing just enough to be noticeable.
"Who threw the first punch?" Aizawa asks, his voice sharp as steel, his eyes drilling into them.
"I did," Bakugo says without hesitation.
Midoriya shifts beside him. "It wasn’t just him. I went pretty hard too."
Aizawa sighs through his nose, rubbing his temples before levelling them both with a glare. "Fine." His finger sparks with energy as he points at them. "You’re both on house arrest. Four days for Bakugo, three for Midoriya."
They both grumble, but neither protests as Aizawa finally releases them from the bindings. As I turn to leave, a firm hand catches my wrist. I barely have time to react before Bakugo pulls me into a quiet corner, his grip steady but not forceful. The hallway is dimly lit, and his expression is unreadable in the shadows.
"Meet me outside later," he says, voice low, almost hesitant. "In about an hour. I wanna talk."
A pit of unease stirs in my stomach. "Uh… sure, Bakugo."
I start to pull away, but he doesn’t let go. His grip tightens just slightly—just enough to make me look up.
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_2299
Toshinori's voice is barely above a whisper. “You didn’t have to come.”
“I owe everyone an apology.”
He gives me a small smile and ruffles my hair. I scrunch my nose, pouting as I smooth it back down. Squeezed between him and Aizawa in the cramped car, I keep my gaze fixed on my lap, fingers fiddling with the loose threads on my sleeve.
The car comes to a stop. As we step out, my feet hesitate at the front door—a door I’ve stood before. My stomach knots as I raise my hand to knock. Yelling echoes from inside. The door clicks open, revealing Masaru.
“Oh! Come on in,” he says, stepping aside.
The couch is too soft for the tension in the room. I sink into it, hands clenched together in my lap while Toshinori and Aizawa handle the talking.
“Hell yeah, get this kid in a dorm room!” Mitsuki suddenly exclaims, smacking Bakugo on the back of his head.
“You hag! Touch me again and I’ll kill you!” he snaps, rubbing the spot.
“Oh hush!” She smacks him again for good measure.
But then, she grips his head gently, bowing her own. Her voice softens. “I know Katsuki is a pain, but please… keep him safe.”
Bakugo lifts his head slightly, and for a moment, our eyes meet. His usual fiery gaze flickers—just for a second—with something else. Something raw. Something aching. I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. Without a word, I step outside, pressing a hand against my racing heart. He’s okay, I tell myself. He’s safe.
Aizawa and Toshinori step out a few minutes later, Bakugo slipping out behind them. As I turn toward the car, his hand clamps onto my shoulder. Before I can react, he pulls me into a tight embrace. His fingers dig into my hair and back, gripping like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. The raw emotion pouring from him is almost suffocating. Then, just as suddenly as he grabbed me, he shoves me away and storms back inside, slamming the door behind him.
As he should. I had no right to get that close to him while I was undercover. But something about that hug lingers, like an invisible hand pulling me back. I walk toward the car, hesitating with my fingers on the handle. Toshinori rolls down the window.
“Are you coming?”
I swallow, my voice quieter than I expect. “No. I’m not ready… to leave them.”
Saying it out loud feels like swallowing something bitter. Toshinori smiles knowingly, nods, and rolls the window back up.
—
I sit on the couch, aimlessly tapping at a game on my phone. They should be here by now—unless Aizawa is giving them a lecture outside.The door creaks open.
I hold up my newly healed arm, waving lazily. “Yo.”
Ashido’s eyes widen, and in the next second, she launches herself at me, wrapping around me like a koala. Her face buries into my hair, her grip iron-tight.
“I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” she mumbles.
I awkwardly pat her back, cringing slightly at the overwhelming closeness. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
The other students swarm the couch, either piling into the hug or bombarding me with questions about hero work. I do my best to keep up, laughing at their excitement, but my eyes keep drifting toward the stairs—toward him.
Bakugo is heading up to his room, shoulders tense, hands shoved in his pockets. I try to shake the thought away, forcing myself to stay present with the others. But that hug from a few days ago keeps replaying in my mind. The way he held me—tight, almost desperate. Was it a cry for help?
Before I know it, I’m standing in front of his door, hand hovering just above the wood. I hesitate, my heart hammering against my ribs. Then, I knock. No response. I knock again, leaning in to listen. Still nothing. Carefully, I push the door open just enough to peek inside. He’s asleep. His face is relaxed, free of tension, no scowling, no grumbling—just peaceful. In this moment, he looks so different from the Bakugo the world knows.
I exhale softly. “I’m sorry for everything,” I whisper. “Goodnight.”
Gently, I close the door and tiptoe back to the common room.Uraraka catches my eye.
“Can you come outside for a bit?” she asks, concern etched into her face.
Curious, I follow her. The cold air stings my skin as I step outside, rubbing my bare arms for warmth. Under the glow of a streetlamp, Asui stands surrounded by Todoroki, Iida, Kirishima, Midoriya, and Yaoyorozu. Her shoulders shake as she cries, and the others do their best to comfort her.
“Is this about the raid to save Bakugo?” I ask, breaking their huddle.
They all nod. Uruaka is my Asui’s side, gently rubbing her back, in turn Asui clings onto her.
“Asui.”
“Call me Tsu,” she mumbles between sniffles.
“Asui,” I repeat, firm. “These five should’ve minded their own business.”
Their heads drop, shame written across their faces.
I sigh. “I’m not condoning what they did, but without them, things could have turned out a lot worse.”
Midoriya perks up slightly—right before I smack him upside the head.
“Ow! What was that for?!” he yelps, rubbing the sore spot.
“You know what!” I jab a finger at him, eyes burning with frustration before shifting my attention to Todoroki and Iida. “And you two! Be grateful you’re out of hitting range.”
They exchange glances but say nothing, standing perfectly still like I might grow extra limbs just to reach them.
-
“I don’t have ultimate moves,” I say, taking a long sip of my coffee.
The gym erupts into chaos.
“What do you mean you don’t have ultimate moves?!” Kaminari practically shrieks.
“My quirk isn’t flashy, so I work in stealth and undercover,” I explain casually, swirling the coffee in my cup. “Not undercover anymore, sadly. The fuckers know my face now.”
The class murmurs amongst themselves, some whispering about whether they could survive in the world of stealth ops. Others just stare at me like I’ve grown a second head.
I turn to Ectoplasm. “Can I go now?” I ask, already halfway out the door. “Since you’ve so kindly used me as a bad example.”
His electronic voice crackles through his mask. “Yes, of course, Night. Keep safe.”
I roll my eyes but lift my cup in mock salute. Toshinori definitely put him up to that. And, speaking of the devil himself—
I step outside and nearly collide with him. He fumbles, clearly startled, and in his panic, shoves something behind his back. I peek over his shoulder. No way.
“Teaching for Dummies?” I smirk, pressing my fingers to my lips to stifle my giggle.
Toshinori bows his head in shame, caught red-handed.
I punch his shoulder lightly. “I’m kidding! What’s the issue? You taught me, didn’t you?”
He gives me a tight, forced smile that says everything he doesn’t: I’m scared they’ll turn out like you. I gasp, clutching my chest dramatically.
“Oh, fuck you, Toshinori! I turned out fabulous.”
-
Their faces read pure horror when they saw me. I can’t help but grin as some of the student tried to scramble back into the bus.
“Welcome to the Hero License Exam, rookies! Let’s hope you pass.” I walk up close to them, “‘cause if you don’t, I’ll have your head on a platter.”
Some gulp, some whine, some just except the horrors of having to deal with me in the future.An unfamiliar arm slings around my shoulders. Instinct kicks in before recognition, and I turn sharply to face the poor soul who dared to touch me.
“Well, if it isn’t U.A.! An honor to meet you!” The guy grins, all confidence and charm.
I narrow my eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Why do you ask, princess?” he replies smoothly.
Ah. Pretty boy syndrome.
I shrug his arm off, but he slaps it right back like we’re old pals. Annoyance flares, and in one swift motion, I twist his arm behind his back and flip him over my shoulder. He lands with a satisfying thud. Without missing a beat, I step on him like a doormat and keep walking toward the entrance.
—
God, this is exhausting. While the students run around playing tag, I’m stuck listening to these two—Ms. Joke relentlessly trying to get Aizawa to crack a smile while he rejects her with the patience of a monk. I plop down behind them with an exaggerated thud, leaning forward between them just enough to be obnoxious.
“He’s married.”
Aizawa’s head whips toward me so fast it might’ve snapped. “How do you know that?”
I smirk. “I know many things.”
His brow furrows, waiting for me to continue.
“I’m not elaborating, I hope you know that.”
Ms. Joke cackles and shifts gears instantly, now bombarding him with questions about his wife. The conversation turns downright wholesome as she fawns over every little detail. I lean back in my chair, tuning them out.
Ms. Joke waves frantically, her voice cutting through the noise. “Hey, those are my students—HEY GUYS! CONGRATS!”
I crack an eye open lazily, barely interested—until I see him. My body moves before my brain catches up. I bolt to my feet and jab a finger at the pretty boy.
“OI! If you come near me again, I’ll break your arms!”
The poor kid—Shindo, if Ms. Joke’s confused rambling is anything to go by—scrambles into the hall with his tail between his legs. Good. With that handled, I settle back down… only to endure another hour of waiting before the next part of the exam is announced. A natural disaster simulation.
This is painful to watch. I chew on my knuckles, resisting the overwhelming urge to storm in and slap some sense into them. My leg bounces uncontrollably as impatience coils in my gut. Eventually, I snap. I stand and wander off, needing to move before I lose it. My aimless steps take me straight to the towering form of Gang Orca.
Gang Orca turns, his sharp gaze locking onto me. “Care to join?” He gestures toward his sidekicks as they prepare.
My eyes light up for a brief moment before I deflate, shoulders slumping forward. “As much as I would love that, I’ve been put on a leash.”
He taps my shoulder in understanding before striding onto the battlefield.
With nothing else to do, I wander off, eventually finding myself at a small café nearby. I slip inside and plop down at a table in the corner, picking up the menu with little enthusiasm. Before I can decide, a small figure approaches, clutching a notebook tightly to her chest.
“Do I order with you?” I ask, not looking up.
“You can,” she stammers, voice unsure.
“Iced latte with an extra shot.” I hand her a bill that more than covers the cost, “to go.”
She takes the money but doesn’t move, awkwardly rocking on her feet. I finally glance up, brow furrowing just as she suddenly thrusts the notebook at me.
“Can I have an autograph, please?” she blurts, bowing in half.
I blink. Wait, what?
The realization slams into me. Of course. The exam. The news. My face is out there now. I exhale through my nose, taking the notebook from her. With a quick scribble, I sign my name across the page and hand it back.
She beams. “Thank you so much!”
I watch as she scurries off, my fingers lingering on the pen. Guess I better get used to this. Toshinori makes it look easy. All the attention—good, bad, overwhelming. I don’t know how he handles it day in and day out. It only took a few minutes for my coffee to be ready, but in that time, I could feel eyes on me. The girl behind the counter practically sparkles as she hands over my drink, looking like she wants to say something else. I grab my coffee and walk off before she gets the chance. Ugh.
I slip back into the stadium, settling into a seat behind Aizawa and Ms. Joke.
“What did I miss?”
Ms. Joke turns to me. “Nothing much.”
Down below, the students huddle around a screen while a group of suits pass out slips of paper. Their results. I sip my coffee, keeping my focus locked onto the UA kids, watching their reactions carefully. So far, so good. A tired voice crackles over the speakers, announcing that they’ll now reveal who passed. The stadium’s TVs flicker to life, listing the names of the students who made it. My eyes scan the list, counting each UA student. I reach the end and freeze.
Eighteen.
Eighteen passed.
My stomach drops as I realize who isn’t on that list.
I stand abruptly. “Permission to engage?”
Aizawa barely looks at me. “Permission granted.”
I vault over the railing, landing with a heavy thud in the center of the students. A few of them jump. I immediately lock eyes with Todoroki, who bows his head before I even say a word. I walk over and smack him on the head.
“At least you’re sorry,” I grumble, rubbing my knuckles before my gaze flicks to Bakugo.
He doesn’t bow. He doesn’t apologize. He just scowls, fists clenched at his sides. I take a slow sip of my coffee before prowling toward him. In an instant, I have him in a headlock.
He thrashes, trying to pry himself free. “Let me go, you bastard!”
Ashido bounces up to us, proudly shoving her results in my face, eyes sparkling. “Look, look! I passed! I’m a hero now!”
“That’s great, Ashido—stop squirming, dumbass—I’m proud of you,” I say, tightening my grip on Bakugo as he growls in frustration.
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_1902
“You seem distracted,” All Might observes, arms crossed as he studies me. “Has something happened between you and young Bakugo?”
I jolt upright, heat rushing to my face. “You could say that,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck.
He places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “No need to worry,” he says, his signature smile in place. “We’ll save him.”
He gives me a thumbs up, and for the first time tonight, the tightness in my chest eases—just a little.
The briefing is over, but the adrenaline is still pumping through my veins. My heart pounds like a war drum as we close in on the hideout—the place where Bakugo is.
Tsukauchi stands at the front, a small speaker pressed against his ear. The moment his hand rises, signaling the go-ahead, All Might launches forward, smashing through the brick wall like it’s paper. Dust and debris explode into the air. Without hesitation, I leap over his hunched form, locking onto my first target—Mr. Compress.
Relief floods me as my kick connects squarely under his chin. His head snaps back, and before he can even hit the ground, Kamui Woods' quirk snakes around him and the rest of the villains, binding them all in one swift motion.
“You did well, Young Bakugo,” All Might says, his voice warm with pride.
Bakugo’s lip trembles for just a fraction of a second before he scowls, slipping right back into his usual gremlin self. “I didn’t need your help.”
All Might chuckles, undeterred, and gives him a thumbs up. Shigaraki thrashes against his bindings, spitting incoherent insults at All Might. But then, a familiar black ooze begins to seep into the air, curling around the captured villains. My stomach drops.
A strangled noise pulls my attention, and my head snaps toward Bakugo—black tendrils of goop already wrapping around him.
Not again.
I sprint toward him, desperation clawing at my chest. If I can just reach him, hold onto him, maybe he won’t slip away. All Might has the same thought, lunging forward with outstretched hands, but it’s too late. Bakugo vanishes into the void.
All Might’s roar of frustration shakes the air.
I grit my teeth, forcing the panic down. “That was one of All For One’s quirks,” I tell him. “We know where they went.”
He straightens, determination hardening his features. Without hesitation, he turns toward the gaping hole in the wall, muscles coiling as he crouches, ready to launch himself. I don’t hesitate either. My hand clamps onto his shoulder just as he propels forward, and I shoot into the sky right alongside him.
In seconds, we land outside an abandoned warehouse. The air is thick, charged with an oppressive energy that makes my skin crawl.
A slow, deliberate clapping echoes from the darkness. The presence is familiar—too familiar. A familiarity I wish I could forget.
"Thirty seconds," a deep voice drawls. "You’ve gotten slower, All Might."
I stiffen.
"You’re one to talk, with all that gear strapped to your face," I snap back, my voice sharper than I intended.
A firm hand settles on my shoulder. "Stay out of this," All Might murmurs. His tone is gentle, but there’s an unshakable weight behind it. A silent plea.
He can only see my eyes, but it’s enough. He knows. I’m not leaving. He exhales, a quiet resignation, before stepping forward.
"The father-daughter duo strikes again," All For One taunts, spreading his arms wide. "Oh, how I’ve waited for this."
In an instant, he vanishes—only to reappear right in front of us. All Might is blasted backward from the sheer force of the attack, his body crashing past me. My boots dig into the ground as I brace against the shockwave. A flicker of green catches my eye from behind a crumbling wall.
Midoriya. Why are you here?
He peeks around the corner, eyes locking onto mine. I shake my head, gesturing for him to run. But he doesn’t. Instead, he points across the battlefield.
I follow his gaze—to where the League of Villains encircles Bakugo. My stomach twists. Three fronts. I have to watch three different battles. My mind races.
Bakugo can handle himself.
If Midoriya stays hidden, he’s safe.
I make my decision.
Ripping my focus away, I sprint toward All Might. Blasts erupt around us as their fists collide, the sheer impact threatening to tear the battlefield apart. I pull my hood lower, shielding my face from the storm. I slip around the back, leaping up to deliver a kick to the side of All For One’s head. The satisfying crunch of his medical gear barely registers over the chaos surrounding us. A hand clamps around my ankle before I can land.
I barely have time to react before I’m yanked downward and slammed into the ground. My breath vanishes from my lungs, the impact rattling through my bones. Across the battlefield, All Might is thrown aside like a ragdoll. I don’t have time to think before a shadow looms over me. All For One circles me like a vulture. I’m fucked. Pain erupts through my arm as his foot slams down, pinning me in place. A sharp, involuntary cry escapes my lips. His fingers reach for my hood.
No—
A golden blur crashes into him before he can make contact.
"Don't touch her!" All Might roars, sending him flying.
I struggle to my feet, cradling my arm.
"I'm fine," I grit out.
His gaze flickers to the obvious deep divot carved into my bicep.
"I hope you know your limit."
I grin through the pain. "Since when have I ever?"
Before he can respond, All For One surges forward, his fist grotesquely swollen with stolen quirks. The target is obvious. All Might braces himself. But at the last second, the trajectory shifts— Straight at me. A brutal force collides with my stomach. I can’t even scream. My vision whites out as I’m launched backward, my body crashing through solid concrete. Agony. I can’t breathe. I double over, choking as food forces its way up my throat. I cough and heave as I lurch over.
Hushed whispers cut through the ringing in my ears. I blink through the pain and peek around the corner. Five students. Conspiring. My blood runs cold.
"There’s more?" My voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.
They freeze.
"You’re not heroes," I rasp, jabbing a weak finger at them.
"We're not using force!" Midoriya blurts out in a panic.
I stare at them for a moment, exhaling shakily. At least I drilled some sense into their thick heads. Kirishima and Yaoyorozu stare at me like deer caught in headlights. Confused, I pat around my head. My hood. It must have flown off from the impact. They can see my hair.
"You’re a Pro?" Kirishima breathes, eyes practically sparkling.
"Not the time," I grunt, shaking off the dizziness. "Get Bakugo out of here, and we’ll talk later."
I push off the crumbling wall, steadying myself. Midoriya’s worried gaze lingers on me.
"You’re gonna be okay?" he asks.
I pull my hood back up, forcing a smirk. "I’ve survived worse."
Then, I turn back to the battlefield. Pain flares through my ribs with every step. That hit definitely broke a few.
"Persistent brat," All For One sneers. His arm extends toward me like a writhing mass of muscle and destruction.
I don’t stop. I sprint straight at him, leaping onto the outstretched limb. Using it as a runway, I charge up toward his torso. He’s too focused on All Might. This might work. At the last second, I drop down and drive my fist upward, striking beneath his chin. His head snaps back. He stumbles. For a moment, he actually falters, gasping for air.
I don’t hesitate. I spin, launching a kick straight for the back of his head— But before it connects, his arm bulges grotesquely, swelling with stolen quirks. In one brutal motion, he hurls All Might into the ground with bone-crushing force. I barely have time to react before another massive hand shoots up—Clamping around my throat. My feet leave the ground. I thrash, clawing at his grip, but it’s like trying to break steel. All For One clicks his tongue, like he’s soothing a fussy child.
"That’s too bad," he mutters.
A sudden gust of wind tears my hood from my head. I see the realization dawn on him—the moment it clicks. His charred, wrinkled fingers reach down, yanking my mask away.
"A child?" He sounds… genuinely surprised.
I glare up at him. "A child who can kick your ass!" I gather as much saliva as I can and spit it onto his covered face.
He scoffs in disgust before tossing me aside like discarded trash. My body crumples against the rubble, too weak to fight back. My throat is crushed—I can barely breathe. Every wheezing inhale feels like sandpaper against my windpipe.
"HANA!"
My name echoes through the battlefield. Bakugo. He’s still fighting off the League, but he’s trying to come toward me. I shake my head weakly. Don’t. A low rumble shakes the ground behind me.
A massive ice spike erupts from the battlefield, stretching toward the sky. Three figures race up its length. Midoriya. Kirishima. Iida. They soar through the air, closing in fast.
Kirishima reaches out, shouting. "Come on!"
I force my voice through the raw pain in my throat.
"GO!"
Bakugo launches himself upward, his hand locking onto Kirishima’s. A burst of relief floods through me. They did it. Hands hook under my arms, pulling me into the shadows of a ruined building. Todoroki. I throw my uninjured arm over his shoulder, letting him support my weight. When I wake up, I’m on Todoroki’s back, his arms looped under my knees, my chin resting on his shoulder.
Yayorozu’s fingers comb through my hair, tying it into a low bun.
"I can walk," I mumble.
The students gather around to help me down. Dozens of eyes watch me, concern written all over their faces.
"Where is he?" I ask, my voice hoarse.
They all point toward the police station at the end of the street. Bakugo is safe. The realization hits me all at once—the battle, the escape, everything that happened. My body gives out, and I collapse onto my knees. They all rush toward me, but I hold out a hand to stop them.
"How many people saw my face?"
A tense silence falls over the group. They glance at each other before Kirishima hesitantly holds out his phone, a news broadcast playing on the screen. My own face stares back at me.
"Everyone," he says sheepishly.
I snatch the phone, fast-forwarding through the footage. My finger freezes on the image of Toshinori—of All Might—his weakened form standing before the cameras, his hero suit practically swallowing his frail body, his fist still raised high.
"And that too…" Midoriya murmurs.
I shove the phone into Kirishima’s chest and stumble away, heading toward my apartment. My hands tremble as I reach into my pocket, fishing out my own phone. What’s left of it, anyway. Bits of crushed metal and shattered glass sit in my palm. Right. I got the shit beaten out of me.
Yayorozu jogs to my side, holding out her phone. The latest model, pristine and gleaming, adorned with real diamonds. No case.
Figures.
"Thanks," I mumble, taking it as gently as I can with my bruised fingers.
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_1620
I grab some sturdy vines and secure the villain to a tree, pulling them as tight as I can. It’s not ideal, but it’ll hold him for now. As I finish, the group gathers around, huddling close as we discuss our next move.
Ideas fly back and forth—plans for a decisive attack on the villains, or regrouping the rest of the students to stage a counteroffensive. The suggestions are bold but reckless.
“We’re not heroes,” I say firmly, interrupting the chatter. “Remember that. Legally, we can’t cause harm unless it’s self-defense.”
The group nods in understanding, though it’s clear they’re reluctant. Despite my reminder, they go right back to their attack planning, speaking in hushed but determined tones.
I let out a frustrated sigh. “This way,” I call, starting to walk. I hope it’s the right direction back to camp, but the woods are disorienting, and I’m relying on instinct.
The others follow, still deep in their strategy discussion. Their voices fade into the background as a muffled scream pierces through the trees.
I stop abruptly, holding up a hand to silence them. Another cry echoes through the forest, faint but unmistakable. My heart races.
Without thinking, I take off running, my legs carrying me toward the sound. I leap over roots and push through dense undergrowth, the adrenaline coursing through me.
When I break into a clearing, the scene before me ignites a surge of rage. A blonde girl, about our age, has Uraraka pinned to the ground, a syringe jammed into her leg. Asui hangs helplessly against a tree, her hair cruelly wrapped around a small dagger.
I don’t hesitate. I sprint forward and plant my foot square in the blonde’s face, the force of the kick sending her flying backward. Uraraka gasps in relief as the pressure on her is released. The girl sits up, rubbing her cheek, and then bursts into laughter.
“I haven’t been hit like that in ages!” she exclaims, her voice dripping with glee.
She rises to her feet and skips toward me, her movements unnervingly carefree. I tighten my stance, keeping my eyes locked on her. She stops inches away, so close I can feel her breath—metallic and sickly sweet, reeking of blood.
“I’m Himiko Toga! You’re Hana Miura, right?” she chirps, hands clasped behind her back as she rocks on her heels. “Nice to meet you!”
“The feeling isn’t mutual,” I snap, not lowering my guard.
A rustling sound in the bushes behind me breaks the tension. Both of us glance over as the rest of my group crashes through the underbrush.
Toga’s grin stretches wider. “Oops, looks like I’ve overstayed my welcome!” She skips backward with a mocking wave and darts off into the woods, vanishing as quickly as she appeared.
As soon as she’s gone, I rush to Uraraka and Asui, helping them up.
“What are you guys doing out here?” Uraraka asks, wincing as she wraps her jacket over her wound.
“Escorting Bakugo to camp,” I explain, glancing over at Asui.
She tilts her head and narrows her eyes, peering past me. “Then isn’t he supposed to be with you?”
My stomach twists in dread. I whip around, scanning the clearing.
He’s gone. Why did I run off? Why did I leave him?
A voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts.
“Let me introduce myself,” it calls from above.
I snap my head up to see a masked man perched atop the trees, effortlessly balanced on a branch. Between his fingers, he twirls two small marbles, their surfaces gleaming under the moonlight.
“You may call me Mr. Compress,” he continues smoothly. “I used my magic to take the person you speak of. And another as a trophy.”
My fists clench so tightly my nails dig into my palms. “Give him back!” I snarl.
The man chuckles, amused by my fury. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Miss. It would ruin the trick.”
With a mocking bow, he springs backward into the trees, disappearing into the shadows. We spring into action immediately, our feet pounding against the forest floor. My eyes lock onto Mr. Compress as he leaps effortlessly between the trees.
“My dear, you’re quite fast,” he muses, glancing back at me with an amused tilt of his head. “But you’ll have to try harder if you want to catch me.”
Suddenly, his movements change. His leaps become larger, faster, and in a matter of seconds, he’s putting more distance between us.
“Hana!” Midoriya’s voice cuts through my focus.
I slow my pace slightly, allowing the others to catch up. “What?” I say sharply. “Make it quick.”
“I have an idea.”
He quickly lays out the plan, and I nod. “It’s crazy enough that it might just work.”
We skid to a stop. Uraraka immediately activates her Quirk, making Midoriya, Todoroki, Shoji, and me weightless.
Asui’s tongue wraps securely around us.
And with one powerful motion—she launches us straight into the sky. The magician’s body jerks under my grip as my fingers dig into the back of his neck, pressing hard enough to paralyze him momentarily. With the weight of all four of us bearing down on him, he plummets straight into the lion’s den.
Three unknown figures stand around us as we crash down. Perfect. No need to hunt them down now.
“Give them back!” Midoriya yells, his voice hoarse with desperation.
The man with black hair—Dabi, if I remember right—clicks his tongue. “Move, Compress.”
“Right,” Mr. Compress responds, with a strained groan.
With a snap of his fingers, he vanishes. Before we can react, a wave of blue fire comes barreling toward us.
We scatter, dodging the flames as they scorch the ground. The second the fire clears, two figures rush forward.
Toga.
She makes a beeline for Midoriya, knife in hand, her smile wide and unsettling.
I step in front of him, meeting her charge head-on with a sharp kick to the stomach. She stumbles back but doesn’t fall, her golden eyes locking onto mine.
That’s when I realize it.
Her expression—her hunger—is the same as mine.
I don’t falter. I can’t.
In the corner of my eye, I see Mr. Compress reappear, dusting off his coat as he approaches Dabi. “We’re done here.”
Dabi glares at him, clearly irritated, but doesn’t argue.
“Don’t be so sure,” Todoroki speaks up, holding up two marbles.
Dabi’s eyes narrow, and his body tenses, ready to strike. But Mr. Compress simply raises a hand, stopping him. Then, the three of them turn and start running into the trees—with their prize.
Something isn’t right.
I stay put, watching the villains closely. They aren’t running after Todoroki and the others. They aren’t worried.
Why?
A dark mist suddenly materializes in front of the escaping students, cutting off their path. A second later, a Nomu emerges from the shadows, blocking their last exit. Now they were trapped.
I grit my teeth.
“You idiots,” I mutter under my breath.
“My, my! You truly are a sharp one,” Mr. Compress muses, adjusting his mask. “But a true magician never reveals his secrets.”
With a flourish, he removes his mask, revealing two marbles resting on his tongue. Then, with a snap of his fingers— The marbles in Todoroki’s hand shatter. Just chunks of ice. My breath catches.
Now’s my chance.
I bolt toward him, heart pounding, fingers itching to grab what’s mine. But before I can reach him, another black cloud materializes between us, cutting off my path. I skid to a stop, pivoting sharply to go around it— A beam of light streaks past me, striking Compress square in the face. His mask explodes into pieces. The marbles tumble from his mouth. Shoji lunges, snatching one from the air. Todoroki and I both dive for the other. It brushes my fingertips—
A hand snatches it away.
Dabi.
He turns to Compress, holding up the marble. “Confirm it.”
A snap of fingers— Tokoyami bursts from Shoji’s grasp, landing safely on the ground. But the marble in Dabi’s grip— Bakugo stands before me, eyes wide, body rigid. Dabi smirks, placing a firm grip on the back of Bakugo’s neck.
“Checkmate.”
The black mist engulfs them.
“Bakugo—BAKUGO!” My voice cracks as I lunge forward, reaching out.
Our hands stretch toward each other, just inches apart—And then—They’re gone.
My knees slam against the dirt. My forehead presses to the ground. My fingers curl into the soil. I bite back the tears.
Behind the row of ambulances, I move quickly, keeping to the shadows.
“You got what I asked for?”
Tsukauchi nods, handing me the familiar suitcase. My hero costume. He gestures to the police van parked behind him.
“Your bike’s in there.”
Without another word, he turns back to the students, leaving me to my mission.
I change swiftly, zipping up my suit just as Midoriya finds me.
“You’re going after him?”
“No, I’m heading to a fanservice event.” I shoot him a deadpan look. “Of course, I’m going after him, Midoriya.”
I pull up my hood and mask, my voice dropping. “And no, you’re not coming. None of the students are.”
Grabbing my motorbike, I swing my leg over and settle into the seat. Before revving the engine, I meet Midoriya’s gaze—A silent warning.
If I see you out there, I will hurt you.
I put on the helmet before speeding off. I find myself on a highway in no time. I see the city in the distance when I get a call from All Might.
“Yeah?”
His voice booms from the other side, “I’ve got word you’ve left the camp. Meet at my agency, we’re going after Bakugo tonight.”
With a hum, I hang up. I take the next exit to take a detour to his agency.
Here's an idea. You were reanimated along with the Hokages in the Fourth Shinobi War.
You were either reanimated earlier and sealed in the Reaper Death Seal or when you were alive. So you were pulled out with the Hokages (and Orchimaru's arms, lol). Imagine this, when he first sees you, he just can't take his eyes off you. You died before him, so seeing you again is a blessing.
Stoick and Valka's meeting from How To Train Your Dragon 2 reminds me of these two. He walks towards you, and with each step, he becomes more relaxed and limp.
"Say something," You whisper, "...please."
He places a hand on your cheek, "You are as beautiful as the day I lost you."
And when you're fighting on the battlefield, you fall into nostalgia. As you walk towards him, an explosion blows up behind you. Let's just say you guys like to dance fight. Why do I hear Carless Whispers playing in the background? You have the time of your life with your love
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_2202
Bakugo leans back, panting as he wipes the sweat from his forehead. Before he can recover, I snatch the axe from his hands.
"Hey!" he protests.
I smirk, gripping the handle. "What? You think I can’t swing an axe? I bet I’m better than you."
He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a challenge. "You bet?"
"Sure. When I do it better, you’ll become my gofer for the rest of camp."
He steps closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. "And when you don’t, you gotta admit you like me."
The words hit me like a thunderclap, and I stumble, my composure slipping. "I—I don’t like you!" I blurt out, gripping the axe tighter to steady myself.
He leans in, his eyes locked onto mine with that infuriating confidence. "I’m not dense, Phantom Freak."
"Damn it, Ashido," I mutter under my breath, reeling the axe back and striking the log. Two hits, and the log splits. The same as him. A damn tie.
"I'm going again!" I snap, determined to outdo him.
"No, you're not," Bakugo says, grabbing the axe before I can swing.
He breaks the next log in a single, clean strike. My grumbling fills the air as he hands the axe back to me.
I plant my foot firmly on a new log for support, raising the axe with determination. Two hits again.
"Loser," he chuckles from behind me, his smug tone grating on my nerves.
I whip around, my face hot with frustration. "I’m not admitting shit!"
"You bet," he says with that infuriating smirk. "Now cough it up."
I clench my fists, words caught in my throat. "I..." I pause, exhaling sharply. "Do I really have to say it?"
"Yes," he says without hesitation, his crimson eyes daring me.
I turn away, dragging my hands over my face in exasperation before spinning back around in a burst of courage. "I like you, Bakugo!"
The words hang in the air, and for once, he’s silent. A gentle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, softening his usual sharp features.
“Don’t look at me like that!” I shout, pointing an accusatory finger at him, trying to mask the heat rising in my cheeks.
He reaches out, grabbing my hand, his grip firm but warm. “Can I kiss you?”
My mind blanks, and I fumble for words. “Uh, sure.”
In one smooth motion, he tugs me closer, the space between us disappearing in an instant. His large hand cups my cheek, his touch surprisingly tender. I lean in, and when our lips finally meet, a surge of electricity runs down my spine, leaving my whole body buzzing.
As we pull away, his voice drops to a whisper. “No one knows about this.”
I nod, managing a smirk. “Don’t want to ruin our reputations.”
We exit the woods with our arms full of chopped wood, our steps heavy but synchronized. Dropping the logs by the fire pit, we exchange a glance before returning to our previous tasks. Dinner that night was, in a word, abysmal—a collection of overcooked, underseasoned, and hastily thrown-together dishes made by exhausted teenagers on their last nerve.
As we sit around trying to stomach the disaster on our plates, Pixie-Bob springs up with uncontainable energy. “Game in the woods!” she squeals, swinging her legs playfully over the edge of the crate she’s perched on, her feline-like grin growing. “Scare seeker!”
My interest piques. Scares in the woods? Sign me up.
We gather around, pulling colored slips from a hat to determine partners. When I open mine, I sigh. Skylar. Again.
She shuffles up beside me, her hands clasped nervously. “Hi… again,” she says, her voice soft and uncertain.
“Sure,” I mutter, shrugging.
The group from Class 1-B enthusiastically disappears into the forest ahead of us, their laughter echoing in the distance. Their mission: hide and terrify. Ours: endure it.
We linger near the forest's entrance, waiting for our turn as the groups ahead of us vanish into the shadows. Only a handful of pairs remain now. I plop onto the ground, idly doodling swirls and patterns in the dirt with a stick.
“Yellow, you’re up!” comes the call.
I spring to my feet, a grin plastered across my face. “Hell yeah!” I practically skip toward the woods, with Skylar struggling to keep up behind me. The moment we step into the dense trees, a shiver of excitement runs down my spine. It’s laughably easy to sense the students hiding around us—some of them can’t even control their breathing.
“This isn’t a competition to see who can scare the other first,” Skylar pipes up, sounding mildly exasperated.
My eyes light up, an idea already forming in my mind. “That’s a great idea!” I exclaim.
“Wait, no!” she protests, but it’s too late. I’ve already adopted the plan as my new mission.
We come across a few of the Class 1-B students—who all scream like banshees when I lunge at them. I’m halfway through laughing at one of them when I stop cold.
My senses sharpen, and I glance upward, catching sight of a faint, ominous haze curling through the air.
“Smoke…” I murmur, my voice low and wary.
“It’s probably just Bakugo,” Skylar says hesitantly.
I shake my head, narrowing my eyes as the thick smoke oozes ominously between the trees. “Not to this extent,” I reply.
The air is dense now, the smoke weaving through the forest like a living thing. Every instinct in me screams that something is wrong.
“Go back to camp,” I instruct, my voice firm. “Warn the heroes.”
Her face pales. “You’re coming with me.”
I shake my head and point toward the direction of camp. “Trust me and go. I’ll handle this.”
Skylar hesitates, clearly torn, but after a tense pause, she finally nods and takes off running. As her figure disappears into the trees, I turn toward the source of the smoke. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the faintest glimmer of movement—purple gas pooling like ink in water. My chest tightens, but I steel myself and move forward.
I step into the cloud, the sting of the gas sharp and immediate as it burns my lungs. The sensation tells me everything I need to know. Sleeping gas.
I grit my teeth, silently thanking every undercover mission I’ve ever endured and every bit of poison I’ve had to ingest over the years. My body has built an intolerance to most toxins, and I hope this is no exception. My movements are slow and deliberate as I push forward, the gas growing thicker with each step. My stomach drops as the sharp crack of a gunshot pierces the heavy silence. It was close—I could feel the vibration through the ground beneath my feet.
“You idiot! I can sense your movements in the gas!” a voice rings out, almost gleeful.
My heart sinks. For a fleeting moment, I’d hoped it was all a coincidence—gas, smoke, and noise unrelated to an attack. But deep down, I knew better. This was no accident.
A grin tugs at my lips despite the situation. You just revealed your weakness, sucker.
I activate my quirk, feeling the familiar lightness as my body lifts from the ground. Floating silently, I home in on the source of the voice. My movements are fluid, my presence undetectable in the suffocating fog.
I break through the gas into a clearing, fresh air rushing into my lungs like a lifeline. I don’t stop. There’s a boy standing in the middle, wearing a middle school uniform and a gas mask. His posture is relaxed, cocky even. He doesn’t know I’m here.
Without hesitation, I dart forward and rip the mask off his face.
“What the—?!” he yells, spinning around, his gun already raised.
Bang.
The bullet tears through me harmlessly, passing through my intangible form. His wide-eyed panic fuels my confidence, but before I can act again, a blur emerges from the gas cloud behind me.
Tetsutetsu barrels into the clearing like a freight train, his steel fist connecting squarely with the boy’s chest. The kid crumples to the ground with a sickening thud, knocked out cold. The gas begins to dissipate, thinning into nothingness.
I dust my hands off, forcing a nonchalant tone. “Alright. Off to the next one.”
I turn to leave, but an unfamiliar voice rings sharply in my head.
"Class 1-A and 1-B. New information has come to light. The villains are after a student named Kacchan. Kacchan, come back to camp immediately."
Mandalay’s telepathic message fades, leaving a hollow echo in my mind. My body freezes, a jolt of panic rooting me to the ground.
A sudden, deafening rumble shatters my paralysis. A powerful gust of icy wind rushes past me, carrying with it a bitter chill. Todoroki. He was paired with Bakugo.
I take off running, barely hearing the shouts of the 1-B student behind me. Stray branches claw at my arms and face as I shove my way through the underbrush, my breath ragged. The weight in my chest grows heavier with every step.
When I burst into a clearing, the world spins. My knees buckle, and I collapse to the ground, gasping for air. My trembling hands clutch at my face as I try to steady myself, but the hammering of my heart drowns out everything else.
Smoke. The acrid tang lingers in my nose.
I curl in on myself, gripping my knees tightly as the ground beneath me tilts and warps. The present fades, replaced by a scene seared into my mind.
The crash of bombs above. The splintering of wood and shattering of glass. My mother's hand, lifeless and still, sticking out from the pile of debris.
I’m there again—sitting in the corner of the ruined house, my ears ringing, my arms wrapped tightly around my head to block out the chaos. The sound of my own screaming buried beneath the relentless barrage of destruction.
I try to shake it off, but the memory pulls me under, drowning me in the suffocating weight of helplessness. Not again. Please, not again. Don’t take anyone away from me again.
The thought pounds in my head like a drum as I'm yanked upward. My eyes blink rapidly, snapping out of the spiral just as someone grips my face.
“Are you okay?” Bakugo’s voice cuts through the haze, his hands holding my cheeks firmly.
I grab his shoulders, my breath still unsteady. “What are you doing here!?”
“We’re a bit preoccupied,” Todoroki interjects, his tone as calm as ever despite the tension. He adjusts his grip on the unconscious guy slung over his back, shifting his weight effortlessly.
But my attention shifts to the sound of something unnerving emerging from the treeline.
A man stumbles forward, restrained in a straitjacket that wraps his entire body except for his face—if you could call it that. His mouth is forced wide open with metal clamps, saliva dribbling down his chin as he hops forward in jerky, unsettling movements. His teeth elongate into razor-sharp blades that dig into the ground with a metallic screech. He thrashes wildly, his body flopping like a fish out of water.
“Flesh…” he mutters in a guttural tone, his drool thick and sickening.
Bakugo steps in front of me, his arms spreading slightly to shield me. His hands are already sparking as he lowers into a combat stance.
The tension doubles when we hear it—heavy, earth-shaking footsteps echoing through the forest, each one closer than the last. It’s almost like a titan approaching, massive and deliberate.
“Kacchan!” Deku’s voice rings out as he appears in the distance, being carried by Shoji. His face lights up with relief. “You’re okay!”
“Shut it, Deku!” Bakugo snaps, his focus still locked on the thrashing villain ahead of us.
The chaos intensifies as Tokoyami barrels into view from behind Shoji and Midoriya. His face is contorted in distress, but it’s clear Dark Shadow has taken over completely, towering over him in its full monstrous form. Tokoyami’s desperate attempts to reign it in are futile.
Without hesitation, Dark Shadow lunges at the villain, the sheer force of its attack enveloping the grotesque man in a sea of pitch-black darkness. The clash is brutal—Dark Shadow’s feral rage against the villain’s sharp, thrashing blades. It’s like watching two beasts tearing at each other, neither backing down.
Despite the chaos, a small smile flickers across my face as I watch Dark Shadow overpower the villain. The straitjacketed man crumples to the ground, broken and defeated.
“Light him up!” Tokoyami shouts, his voice strained as Dark Shadow begins to lose control.
Todoroki and Bakugo don’t hesitate, launching forward with their quirks. Todoroki’s ice erupts in brilliant shards of reflective light, while Bakugo’s explosions illuminate the clearing in violent bursts.
The harsh light forces Dark Shadow to shrink back, retreating inch by inch as Tokoyami fights to regain control. He grits his teeth, beads of sweat rolling down his face, until Dark Shadow finally retreats to its usual size.
Tokoyami collapses to his knees, breathing heavily, his normal calm demeanor returning. Bakugo and Todoroki exchange a brief glance before turning their attention back to the villain.
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_2104
The faint muttering on the other side of the hot springs immediately puts me on edge. My ears perk up, and I narrow my eyes toward the wooden divider. They better not be trying what I think they’re trying. With a groan, I haul myself out of the water, grabbing a towel and wrapping it tightly around myself.
Without hesitation, I kick the wooden divider hard enough to make it rattle. “Don’t try anything!” I yell, my voice echoing through the springs. “I’ll kick your ass if you do!”
There’s a sudden commotion—a mix of panicked panting, frantic shuffling, and the unmistakable sound of someone scrambling up the divider. Sure enough, Kota pops up at the top, glaring daggers at whoever’s below him. With a surprisingly strong shove, he pushes Mineta off, the tiny pervert letting out a high-pitched wail as he crashes back down.
Ashido springs up from the water, her enthusiasm uncontainable. “Thank you, Kota!” she cheers, waving her hands wildly in the air.
And that’s when I realize her mistake. The poor kid didn’t need to see that. His eyes widen to saucers, and his entire face goes beet red. He stumbles backward, nearly falling over in sheer embarrassment.
I sigh, grabbing a spare towel and chucking it directly at Ashido’s face. “What did I just say about being a pedophile?” I grumble, rolling my eyes as I sink back into the water.
Ashido, too preoccupied with the towel assault, doesn’t respond. I shake my head, mumbling under my breath, “Jeez, you can tell you were written by a man.”
The springs fall silent for a moment, the only sound being the gentle bubbling of the water.
-
I walk into the lounge where Kota lies unconscious, a blanket draped over him. The tension in the room is thick, but I ignore it, sauntering toward the group. Mandalay looks up at me, concern etched on her face.
"Are the girls okay?" she asks, her tone gentle but firm.
I hum nonchalantly, leaning against the wall. "Sure," I reply, not offering much else.
My eyes drift to Midoriya, who’s sitting awkwardly in the corner, his thumbs fumbling nervously. His face is an unmistakable shade of red. I glance down and realize why. The towel I'm wearing barely covers what it needs to.
I smirk, raising a brow. "You’ve never seen a woman before, Midoriya?"
His head snaps up, and he immediately begins stammering incoherently, his hands flailing as if to form some kind of defense. It’s almost endearing, but mostly amusing.
Before he can embarrass himself further, I stride over and slap a hand over his mouth. "Relax," I say with a low chuckle. "I’m just messing with you."
His muffled words turn into a defeated sigh, and I let go, shaking my head as I step back.
“See you tomorrow, losers,” I say, walking out, “I need my beauty sleep.”
The early rays of the sun filter through the window, casting a soft glow over the room as the others begin to stir.
Ashido’s snoring buzzes like a chainsaw directly into my ear. My arm feels like it's trapped in a vice grip with the way she’s clinging to it. I glance around and realize all the other girls are piled around me in some sort of cuddle puddle. When did I become a mother bear protecting her cubs?
Groaning, I sit up carefully to avoid waking them, only to wince as the sunrise catches me right in the eyes. I mutter a curse under my breath, adjusting the hem of my shirt and digging my underwear out of my crack.
“Morning!” Uraraka chirps cheerfully, far too awake for this time of day.
I glare at her through my bedhead, the energy to even lift my hand nonexistent. “Don’t talk to me,” I grumble, my voice gravelly. I run a hand through my tangled hair in a half-hearted attempt to fix it, sighing when I give up after two swipes.
Morning people. The bane of my existence. I rub my eyes, dragging my feet as I shuffle to the sink. Grabbing my toothbrush, I squeeze some toothpaste onto it and begin scrubbing absentmindedly. The other girls start to join me, filling the small space with chatter and laughter.
My eyelids feel like they’re weighed down with bricks. Before I know it, I’m leaning against the counter, toothbrush still hanging out of my mouth as I drift off into a half-sleep.
A tap on my shoulder jolts me awake, and without thinking, I lazily raise a hand and flip them off.
“Seriously?” Ashido says, laughing. “It’s way too early for this, Hana.”
“Exactly,” I grumble around the toothbrush, glaring at her through squinted eyes. “Way too early.”
I squint as the morning sun pierces through my half-shut eyes. Aizawa is already standing in front of the dorms, his ever-present tired demeanor accompanied by his hero uniform, which somehow looks more imposing in the early light.
"Morning, Class 1-A," he greets in his monotone voice. "Welcome to torture."
Groans echo around me as everyone braces for the training ahead.
I spot Midoriya in the corner of my eye, struggling to land a hit on Tiger. Despite his determination, he’s clearly getting nowhere. With a sigh, I walk over and tap Tiger on the shoulder.
"Leave us be," I say, a note of authority in my voice. Tiger gives me a curious look but nods before heading off to terrorize another student.
Turning my full attention to Midoriya, I cross my arms. "Hit me."
His eyes widen in panic. "I-I don't want to hurt you, Hana!"
I roll my eyes, tilting my head in mock exasperation. "Toshinori has hit me at full strength before. I think I can handle your puny fist, Midoriya."
He looks hesitant but nods, clearly trying to steel himself. He throws a punch, but before he even gets close, I slip my hand under his arm, deflecting it upward. Using the momentum, I grab his collar and effortlessly toss him over my shoulder.
He lands on the ground with a loud thud, his hair sticking out in all directions, his expression dazed.
I squat down beside him, leaning forward as I stare him down. "How do you plan to become Number One with that strength?"
Midoriya covers his face with his hands, groaning softly. "I don't know," he admits, his voice tinged with frustration and self-doubt.
I sigh, placing my hands on my hips. "Get up, Boy Scout. Try again." I hold out my hand to him, and after a moment of hesitation, he grabs hold. With a firm pull, I help him to his feet.
From across the field, a familiar voice cuts through the air like a whip. "Oi! Don't touch her, Deku!" Bakugo shouts, his tone dripping with venom.
Midoriya’s hands immediately fly away from mine like he’s been burned, his face turning beet red.
"Chillax, Lemon Boy," I call out, waving dismissively.
"I'm not going to chillax, Phantom Freak," Bakugo snaps back, stomping toward us with that signature scowl plastered across his face.
I meet him halfway, standing right in front of him. The tension is palpable as I tilt my head, staring him down. "Got a problem?" I ask, my tone calm but edged with a challenge.
His eyes narrow, sparks of anger flickering in them. "Yeah. I do."
"Why don't you share with the class then?" I ask, gesturing theatrically to the curious eyes of our classmates now fixed on us. The corner of my mouth twitches upward into a smirk, daring him to speak his mind.
Bakugo growls low in his throat, his fists clenching at his sides. His crimson eyes flash, but instead of saying anything, he turns sharply on his heel and storms off. "Tch. Waste of time."
I raise an eyebrow, watching him retreat. "Thought so," I mutter under my breath.
Before I can take another step, Ashido sidles up beside me, her grin practically splitting her face. "You guys need to make out already," she whispers with a mischievous giggle.
I whip my head toward her, feeling the heat rise to my face. "Ashido, shut up!" I hiss, shoving her lightly on the shoulder.
She only cackles louder, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "I'm just saying what we're all thinking!"
I glare down at the potato in my hands, now slightly more massacred than peeled. Blood pricks along the edge of the new cut on my finger. Great. I press my lips together, more in frustration than pain, and try not to look at Bakugo, who’s watching me like I’m the dumbest person alive.
"You idiot," he growls, yanking the peeler and potato from my hands. "Watch."
I narrow my eyes at him but say nothing as he swiftly and skillfully peels the rest of the potato. His movements are quick, precise—almost annoyingly perfect. With a flick of his wrist, he hands me the peeler again.
"Now don't screw it up," he snaps.
Determined not to give him the satisfaction of laughing at me again, I grip the potato firmly and try to copy his technique. A second later, the peeler slips again, nicking the same spot on my hand. I hiss, shaking my hand to dispel the sting.
Bakugo growls, "For crying out loud," and grabs both my hands in his larger ones. His palms are calloused, his grip firm but careful as he guides my hands over the potato.
"Like this," he mutters, maneuvering the peeler with practiced ease.
I glance at his hands—bigger, rougher than mine—and something flickers in my chest. But before I can process it, he releases my hands with a huff and steps back. "You good now, or are you gonna cut your whole hand off?"
I snort, rolling my eyes. "Whatever, lemon boy. Thanks for the masterclass."
He smirks, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter. "Don't mention it. Just don't poison anyone with whatever you're trying to make."
"I'm going to poison you if you don't drop the attitude," I say with a sugary-sweet smile.
Bakugo rolls his eyes and gives my shoulder a shove before returning to the vegetables he’s chopping. I turn my head—and nearly jump out of my skin when Ashido pops up right next to me, her face far too close for comfort. She leans on the counter, her chin propped on her hands, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"You totally wanted him to hold your hands longer, didn’t you?" she teases, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Without hesitation, I grab a handful of potato peels and chuck them at her face. She squeals, dodging the worst of it, but I manage to get a piece stuck in her hair.
"We need more wood!" someone shouts from across the firepits.
I groan loudly, leaning back in my chair. "Didn't I say we didn’t have enough? But nooo, no one listens to me."
Grumbling, I push myself up, grab the axe, and start heading toward the woods. Before I get too far, Bakugo appears beside me, snatching the axe out of my hands without so much as a word. He walks ahead, his posture radiating impatience.
I glare at him as we walk into the woods, his pace matching mine perfectly. "I had it under control," I mutter, crossing my arms.
"Yeah, sure," he says without looking at me, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just like you had control of peeling a potato without bleeding all over it."
I roll my eyes. "You know, I’m starting to see why people don’t like you."
He smirks, finally glancing at me with those fiery eyes of his. "You’ve been saying that since the moment we met, Phantom Freak. Still here, though."
"Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment," I shoot back.
We reach a small clearing, and Bakugo slams the axe into a tree stump with one hand like it’s nothing. I lean against a nearby tree, watching as he rolls up his sleeves and starts chopping wood like he’s trying to fight it. Each swing is precise, powerful, and overkill, really.
"Trying to impress me, or do you always fight inanimate objects?" I tease.
He pauses, resting the axe on his shoulder as he glares at me. "Impress you? Don’t flatter yourself."
"Right, because peeling a potato together wasn’t the most romantic thing to ever happen to you," I deadpan.
His cheeks tint slightly pink, but he quickly turns back to chopping. "Shut up before I chop you next," he mutters.
I can’t help but grin. Watching Bakugo flustered was almost worth the extra trip out here.
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_1806
Ashido slumps dramatically onto my shoulder, fake sobbing loud enough to draw a few chuckles from the rest of the class.
“Have a good time,” she hiccups between exaggerated wails. “Don’t miss me too much!”
I roll my eyes, using a single finger to push her head back by her forehead. She pouts at me but doesn’t let up, letting out another exaggerated cry before latching onto my arm like a koala.
The door to the classroom creaks open, and the sound of Aizawa’s slow, shuffling footsteps has everyone scrambling to their seats. Ashido releases me with one last dramatic sniff, wiping an invisible tear.
Aizawa surveys the room with his usual disinterested stare, then sighs deeply. “We’ll be going to camp,” he announces flatly.
Ashido’s face lights up like fireworks, and she practically bounces in her chair, whispering excitedly to anyone who will listen. I try to tune her out, but it’s impossible.
By the time we’re on the bus, I’ve resigned myself to being her seatmate. She plops down beside me, still buzzing with excitement, and immediately launches into a detailed monologue about some new show she’s obsessed with.
I glance out the window, half-listening as she enthusiastically recounts the plot of the first season. Every so often, I hum or nod, hoping it’s enough to satisfy her.
She’s relentless.
“...and then the main character discovers she’s been the villain all along! Isn’t that crazy? What would you do if you found out—are you even listening, Hana?”
I sigh and tilt my head to look at her. “Mina, if I found out I was the villain, I’d probably take a nap. Wake me up when we get there.”
Ashido gasps dramatically. “You’re hopeless!”
I keep my eyes shut, letting Ashido’s excited rambling fade into the background as I drift in and out of half-sleep. Before I know it, I feel a poke on my shoulder. My eyes snap open to find Ashido grinning down at me, the bus having come to a stop.
We shuffle off the bus, and as soon as my feet touch the ground, I sense it—this is not the camp I was expecting. The barren, desolate land stretches out before us, and my stomach sinks. I immediately know what’s about to happen.
“Great. We’re going to have to work for it,” I mutter under my breath.
Two women step out of a car parked nearby, their smiles wide and mischievous. They introduce themselves as the Wild Wild Pussycats—Mandalay and Pixie-Bob.
I lock eyes with Mandalay for a brief moment. The look between us is quiet, but she knows exactly what I’m thinking. A silent exchange, confirming that we’re on the same page. One of the few heroes who knows my identity.
Before I can even react, Pixie-Bob’s quirk kicks in. In an instant, I’m flying off the plateau, feeling the air rush past me. My feet land gracefully, no trouble at all. I look back just in time to see the others struggling behind me.
I can’t help but snicker as I watch Ashido tumble into a dirt pile, her ass over her head. She groans as she pushes herself up, her face completely covered in dirt.
“Nice landing, Ashido,” I call out with a grin, amusement dancing in my eyes. She glares at me, but the playful scowl doesn’t last long as she starts laughing, too.
I dodge and weave through the dirt creatures with ease, my body flowing like water as I anticipate each of their movements. I’ve seen Pixie-Bob’s quirk in action enough times to know exactly how they’ll attack before they do.
Midoriya catches up to me, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and concern. “Shouldn’t you be like… a student?”
I strike a dramatic pose, one hand casually placed on my cheek as I flash him an exaggerated pout. “Oh no, I’m hopeless!” I say with mock disappointment.
Before he can respond, one of the dirt monsters grabs me and slams me against a nearby tree. The impact rattles my bones, but I barely flinch, groaning only for effect. I push myself off the tree, brushing the dirt off my clothes.
"Is that what you want?" I say, grinning at Midoriya, who looks completely flustered.
His eyes widen, but he stumbles to find a response. Before he can muster anything coherent, I take off, my feet kicking up dirt behind me.
“See you there, suckers!” I shout over my shoulder, a mischievous grin spread across my face.
I sprint through the trees, easily losing the dirt creatures and leaving Midoriya to fumble behind.
The clearing comes into view, the soft orange glow of the setting sun spilling over the treetops. Midoriya’s words from earlier replay in my head, nagging at me. Shouldn’t you be like… a student?
“Damn it,” I mutter, slowing to a stop. The thought of them catching up and seeing me breeze into camp with barely a scratch makes my stomach twist.
I glance at a sturdy tree nearby and climb up, settling myself on a thick branch. Hanging upside down, I twirl a leaf between my fingers, the slow rhythm lulling me into a bored haze. When that loses its charm, I resort to a light nap, my arms crossed and legs hooked over the branch.
Finally, I hear the crunch of footsteps and the distant sound of familiar voices. I crack one eye open, sighing in relief. Took you long enough.
Before they can see me, I jump down from the tree and adjust my appearance. I crouch, grabbing a handful of dirt and smearing it over my face and arms. It’s not enough. Glancing back at the tree, I grit my teeth, brace myself, and ram my shoulder against it with just enough force to dislocate it. Pain flares through my arm, but I swallow a groan and let it hang limp. Perfect.
I stagger out of the woods, timing it perfectly to cross into camp just moments before the others. My breathing is ragged, and I clutch my “injured” arm, letting my face contort in exaggerated pain. I slump forward dramatically, swaying for effect.
“Damn,” I huff, glancing back at the group dragging themselves out of the forest behind me. “That was rough.”
Midoriya flashes me a warm smile before he’s suddenly ambushed by Pixie-Bob, her overwhelming energy suffocating the poor guy. I tense as she rounds on Bakugo next, practically dragging him into her orbit. Something dark and possessive churns in my chest, and without thinking, I step into the small crowd, planting my hand on her face and pushing her back firmly.
"Careful now," I warn with a sharp grin. "You don’t want to look like a pedophile."
Pixie-Bob blinks, caught off guard, before backing off with a huff. Midoriya, who’s recovered from her earlier assault, walks up to Mandalay with his usual eager curiosity.
"Who’s the young boy?" he asks, pointing to the kid standing off to the side, arms crossed and glaring daggers at all of us.
Mandalay smiles, gesturing to him. "Oh, this is Kota. He’s my cousin’s son. He lives with us."
Midoriya immediately crouches down and extends a hand, all bright and friendly as usual. "I’m Izuku Midoriya. Nice to meet you!"
Kota glares, then without hesitation, punches Midoriya square in the family jewels. Midoriya crumbles to the ground with a choked gasp as Iida rushes over, flustered and frantic.
"You delinquent!" Iida scolds, pointing an accusatory finger. "Punching someone in the groin is beyond cruel!"
"Why would I care?" Kota grumbles, crossing his arms. "You’re all just a bunch of wannabe heroes."
Iida sputters in shock, his hands flailing dramatically. "How old are you, kid? Like three?"
"I’m five, deal with it," Kota snaps, stomping off with all the attitude of someone triple his age.
I glance at Bakugo, biting my lip to keep from laughing. I prop my elbow up on his shoulder and lean into him. "He’s gonna be fun," I whisper, the corners of my mouth twitching.
Bakugo snorts. "The kid’s got spunk."
Todoroki walks up beside us, glancing after Kota with his usual deadpan calm. "He’s like a mini version of you two," he says matter-of-factly.
Bakugo and I whip our heads toward him in unison, already bristling.
"What was that, you Canadian flag?!" I yell, pointing an accusatory finger at Todoroki.
"Shut your damn mouth before I blast you all the way to hell!" Bakugo barks at the same time, sparks crackling at his palms.
Todoroki just stares at us, completely unfazed. "Exactly my point."
My mouth waters at the food in front of me. I almost forget to thank the Wild,WIld Pussycats for the meal. I clasp my hands together before says, “Thank you for the meal.”
I dig in like a ravenous animal after that, shoveling the food into my mouth. Kaminari pokes my shoulders.
“Aren’t you in pain?” He asks, referencing my dislocated shoulder.
“Oh, right,” I says before shoving it back into place with a crack.
With a groan, I go back to eating. Kaminari watches, stunned, his chopsticks halfway in his mouth.
“Close your mouth before you catch a fly, idiot.”
Steam rises around us as the hot springs begin to soothe my aching muscles. Dinner was great, but this? This is heaven. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to relax like this—until Ashido’s shrill voice cuts through the serenity of the changing room.
"You have tattoos?!" she exclaims, loud enough to echo. I blink, looking down at my arms where the doodles of ink peek out from beneath the rolled-up sleeves of my shirt.
"Yeah, so?" I reply, a little defensive.
Ashido’s already darting over, grabbing my arm to inspect them like they’re some kind of treasure map. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that my tattoos would be exposed. I’m usually so careful to wear long sleeves around the students, mostly to cover the scars, but the tattoos had slipped my mind.
"Where did you get them done?" she asks, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"Seoul, South Korea," I answer flatly, hoping she’ll let it go.
"You flew all the way to Korea just to get some tattoos?" Her disbelief is palpable as she holds onto my arm like she’s found the eighth wonder of the world.
I yank my arm back, glaring at her. "It’s my hometown," I mutter. The room goes quiet for a moment, her excitement fading slightly.
I step past her and out of the changing room, sinking into the warm water with a sigh as soon as I reach the springs. The heat envelopes me, calming the tension that had been building in my shoulders. The tattoos might have caught Ashido's attention, but to me, they’re just a part of my story—one I’m not interested in sharing right now.
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_2445
We wait outside for the remaining member of our party while the rest of the guests filter inside. I furiously text Tatsu, asking where he is. My fingers hover over the screen as I scroll through our previous messages—most of them are me berating him for not telling me about the party in the first place. With a huff, I shove my phone into the pocket of my dress.
"The damn idiot’s not responding," I mutter. "We might as well go in."
Just as I reach for the door, a deafening bang erupts from inside. My instincts kick in, and I freeze, peering through the narrow gap of the door. An ambush. My chest tightens. How the hell did villains get in here?
Without wasting time, I turn to the group, my voice sharp. "Up the stairs, now. We need to see what’s happening before we act."
We quickly move toward the back staircase. My grip tightens on Melissa’s shoulders as I stop her, forcing her to look at me.
"Listen to me," I say, my tone firm. "You’re stuck with us now. Got it?"
She blinks, startled, but then a small smile forms on her lips. "I’ve always wanted to see heroes work."
I nod, releasing her. "Good. Keep that attitude, and stay close."
Jirou presses her ear to the wall, her quirk amplifying the faint sound of voices from below. Kaminari and Mineta, meanwhile, are whispering and giggling to each other like schoolkids who just heard a bad joke.
"Quiet, you two," Jirou hisses, glaring at them.
I step closer as she straightens up. "What’s the verdict?" I ask.
"Not good," she replies grimly, summarizing what she overheard.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. Before I can process the news, my phone pings. A message from Tatsu finally pops up.
‘Talking with my daughter and wife.’
My eye twitches as rage bubbles up. Without a second thought, I call him.
The moment he answers, I don’t bother with pleasantries. "Last I checked, being on call doesn’t stop you from answering me," I snap.
"Well, hello to you too," he replies dryly.
"Listen here, you bastard," I growl, "dig into those old crime-lord roots of yours and pretend to be a bad guy. Got it?"
I hang up before he can reply and turn back to the group, noticing everyone staring at me.
"Who was that?" Uraraka asks, blinking at me in confusion.
I smirk. "My bitch.”
As Midoriya takes a step forward, I catch his wrist firmly. Todoroki and Iida linger behind, exchanging uncertain glances.
"Remember," I say, locking eyes with Midoriya, "you don’t have a hero license."
He hesitates before nodding resolutely. Watching the three head off to investigate, I’m left with Jirou, Kaminari, Yaoyorozu, and Melissa. The tension in the air is palpable, and just as I start forming a plan, my phone starts buzzing.
I answer with an irritated tone, "What do you want, Tatsu?"
His strained voice comes through. "Help me. There’s a kid here who was part of the Organization. He recognizes me!"
I roll my eyes. "Lie, you fucker. It’s that easy."
I hang up without waiting for his reply, shoving my phone back into my pocket. Minutes later, the sharp click of a gun echoes from around the corner. A man steps into view, his hand gripping the weapon tightly as he points it in our direction.
I lift my hand subtly, signaling to the group that it’s okay. For the cameras’ benefit, we all raise our hands in mock surrender. The man strides up to me and wraps his arm around my neck in a loose chokehold, pressing the gun to my temple.
"Am I hurting you?" Tatsu whispers, his voice low enough for only me to hear.
I scoff. "I’m not that fragile."
He smirks faintly and backs us into an open janitor’s closet, away from the cameras. The other students take the chance to sneak off quietly.
Once inside, Tatsu hands me a small capsule containing my emergency hero costume and the gun he had been holding.
"I never want to hold one of these again," he groans, visibly uncomfortable as he rubs his temples.
I smirk, grabbing the capsule. "Then try harder not to get recognized next time, idiot."
We creep up to the door where the villains' surveillance team lies. The faint hum of monitors and muffled voices leak through the cracks. I take a deep breath and stride into the room, Tatsu at gunpoint in front of me.
The villains freeze, their eyes darting between me and Tatsu. Some scramble for their weapons, their movements frantic.
I fire a warning shot into the wall beside one of them, the sound reverberating sharply. They back away, fear etched on their faces.
"Looks like you missed a hero," I smirk, tilting my head mockingly.
One of them snaps out of his shock. "What are you doing?! Take her down!"
Before they can react, Tatsu grabs my wrist and hurls me into the group. I crash into one of them, sending him sprawling to the floor. Without hesitation, I pin him down and deliver a series of punches to his face, dodging kicks and fists from the others surrounding me.
Tatsu stands back for a moment, arms crossed like he’s watching a mildly interesting action flick.
"Anytime now, you idiot!" I shout between blows.
Finally, with a theatrical sigh, he steps in. Together, we subdue three of them, their unconscious forms slumping to the ground.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice movement. A kid, barely a teenager, is curled up in a ball under a desk, trembling. My momentary distraction gives one of the villains an opportunity to bolt from the room.
"Shit," I mutter, taking off after him.
The chase is short-lived. I slam him against the wall, his feet barely grazing the ground as I pin him there by his throat. He struggles weakly before going limp, unconscious.
When I return to the room, I find Tatsu crouched beside the kid. His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it.
"Don’t go down this road, young one," he says gently, his tone almost fatherly. "Turn back before it’s too late."
"Take him and get out of here," I say firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument.
Tatsu hesitates, his hand resting on the kid’s trembling shoulder. "But what if—"
"Leave now," I interrupt sharply. "You’re not qualified for this."
With a resigned sigh, he nods and leads the kid out of the room. The door shuts behind them, leaving me alone. I take a moment to compose myself before quickly changing back into my dress, securing the capsule with my hero gear in a hidden pocket.
I slip out and search for my classmates. Wandering through the halls, I step into a room filled with plants stretching from the floor to the ceiling. The air smells of damp earth and greenery.
"Hey, can you direct us to the main hall?" I hear Kirishima’s voice.
I spot him and Bakugo talking to two shady-looking guys. Kirishima, ever the friendly one, waves enthusiastically when he sees me.
"Yo, Hana! Where’s the party? We got lost!"
I ignore his greeting, my eyes narrowing on the two men. Without hesitation, I walk up to them and deliver a powerful kick to one’s stomach, sending him flying into a shelf of potted plants.
"Hana, what the hell—" Kirishima grabs my arm, looking ready to apologize, but the other guy lunges at us, swinging wildly.
Bakugo reacts instantly, blasting the attacker with a fiery explosion. The one I kicked rises, his body morphing into a hulking purple beast, roaring as it charges at Bakugo.
"I’ll handle him," Bakugo growls, dodging the creature’s heavy swings and retaliating with precise blasts.
Meanwhile, Kirishima and I focus on the other one, who’s darting around erratically, warping the air with each movement. Kirishima tries to corner him but gets struck by a flying rock, leaving a deep gash across his stomach.
"Kirishima!" I shout, my attention split between him and the fight.
With renewed determination, we quickly overwhelm the warp-user. Bakugo lands a decisive blow against the beast, sending it crashing to the ground. The room falls silent except for our heavy breathing.
I kneel beside Kirishima, who’s slumped on the ground, pale but conscious. Tearing a strip of fabric from the hem of my dress, I wrap it tightly around his wound to stem the bleeding.
"Thanks," he murmurs weakly.
I hum in acknowledgment, but before I can say more, I feel Bakugo’s arms briefly wrap around my waist. I glance up in surprise as he drapes his suit jacket over my torso.
"Your dress is short," he mutters, avoiding my gaze, his ears tinged red.
We sit in silence for a few moments, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Kirishima glances between Bakugo and me, his face a mask of pure confusion.
“So… what’s the plan?” he asks hesitantly, breaking the awkward silence.
“We’re heading to the roof,” I say briskly, snapping myself back to the task at hand. “Everyone’s meeting there.”
As we ascend the stairs, Bakugo yanks off his tie and unbuttons his shirt a few notches, his usual scowl firmly in place.
I roll my eyes, muttering under my breath, “You’re so damn indecent.”
He smirks, clearly hearing me, but doesn’t respond.
When we push through the door leading to the rooftop, chaos immediately greets us. Uraraka is surrounded by fighter robots, dodging frantically as they close in.
Bakugo reacts instantly, sending an explosion that launches several robots off the edge of the building. I rush in, grabbing Uraraka and pulling her to safety.
“You okay?” I ask, catching my breath.
She nods, her eyes wide but determined. “Thanks.”
We turn our attention to Midoriya and Melissa, who are floating up toward the tower above us. The seconds crawl by as we watch them, waiting for any sign of struggle.
And then it happens. Robotic tentacles shoot out from the walls of the tower, moving with terrifying speed.
“I’m getting All Might,” Todoroki says, already turning to leave.
I step in front of him, shaking my head. “I’ll do it. You’re better off here, holding them back.”
He hesitates, but only for a moment. “Fine. Be careful.”
With no further argument, I step to the edge of the rooftop and look down. The drop is dizzying, but the adrenaline dulls any fear. I leap off, using the small ledges along the building’s side as makeshift steps, my quirk keeping me steady as I descend.
I step into the hall where the heroes were tied down, the air thick with tension. A quick glance around reveals that some were still bound, struggling against the ropes. I scoff, crossing my arms.
"I thought you’d all be gone by now," I mutter, the sarcasm dripping from my voice.
All Might, already free and working on the last few ropes, glances up at me with a faint smile. “Where to?”
I point upwards, toward the tower. “Up.”
“How far?”
“All the way, if you want to rock and roll.”
He chuckles softly, tapping me on the shoulder as he stands. “You coming with me?”
I shake my head, the weight of my decision clear. “Can’t. If I fight, I’ll be too good. The kiddos will figure out who I am.”
He sighs at my words, the guilt of leaving the students to handle what should be his burden evident on his face. After a moment, he rubs the hand on my shoulder, giving me a firm nod.
“Stay safe,” he says before turning and heading off to join the fight.
I guide the remaining heroes and civilians out of the building, ensuring they move quickly and stay calm. Once we’re in a safe zone, I scan the crowd, keeping an eye out for stragglers.
Out of nowhere, Tatsu appears, grabbing my shoulders with a mix of urgency and panic.
“Is everything okay? What’s happening?” he asks, his voice tight.
I roll my eyes, brushing off his concern. “Calm your tits, man. It’s none of your business.” I turn my attention back to the building behind us, watching as sparks and distant rumbles echo from the upper floors. “It’ll be over soon anyway.”
Before I can say more, the sound of groaning metal fills the air. The wires suspending parts of the structure snap and collapse, some tumbling over the edge.
“Move back!” I shout, throwing my arms out to push the crowd farther away.
With a deafening crash, a multitude of metal tubes plummet down, slamming into the ground just meters in front of us. The impact sends a wave of dust and debris rushing past, and I shield my eyes with my arm.
“Everyone stay back!” I yell, positioning myself between the crowd and the wreckage. My mind races as I assess the situation, bracing for whatever comes next.
The loud thud behind the settling dust sends a chill down my spine as I prepare for the worst. Then a booming, familiar voice cuts through the tension.
“No need to fear!” it declares. “For I am here!”
Cheers erupt from the crowd as All Might steps into view, his larger-than-life presence bringing immediate relief to the civilians. Claps and cries of gratitude echo all around us, but I’m already moving.
I stride up to him and jab a finger toward the roof. “Get me up there.”
Without a word, All Might nods, lifting me effortlessly. With a powerful leap, he sends me soaring toward the upper levels. I land on the roof with a thud, startling Melissa. She jumps back, her hand to her chest, her wide eyes locking onto me. I can’t help but laugh, breaking the tension for just a moment.
Then I see him.
David Shield.
The way everyone’s eyes linger on him—anger, disgust, disappointment—tells me all I need to know.
“You did this?” I ask sharply.
David avoids my gaze, his body language screaming guilt.
I storm toward him, my steps heavy with fury, but Melissa grabs my arm, her voice trembling. “Please…”
I shake her off and continue until I’m standing mere centimeters away from David. I lean in, my red eyes boring into his.
“Answer me,” I demand.
His shoulders sag, and he mutters, barely audible, “I thought I could save him.” He rubs a hand over the bruise on his arm, and that single gesture tells me everything.
I lean in even closer, lowering my voice so that only he can hear.
“You can’t save him. No one can. And Toshinori knows that.”
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_1.4K
Tatsu’s relentless energy is both endearing and infuriating.
“No,” I repeat, trying to walk forward, but the grown man wraps himself around my leg like a child.
“Please,” he begs, looking up at me with his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes. For someone once feared as a crime lord, this is beyond pathetic.
I grimace, sighing in defeat. “Fine. But never do that again.”
Tatsu jumps up in victory, practically glowing with excitement. He looks at me, brimming with hope. “So, can my daughter come too—”
I slap a finger to his lips. “Say another word, and you’re staying here.”
He pouts the journey there, but stays trailing behind me as we walk through the crowded expo. The sight of him bouncing around, taking pictures of everything remotely interesting, makes me roll my eyes.
“Aren’t you supposed to be some legendary crime lord?” I ask, standing in front of his camera lens.
He ignores me, shoving me out of the way to get a better shot. Suddenly, his eyes light up, and he gasps. “That’s her favorite hero!” he shouts, sprinting toward the unsuspecting pro.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, muttering under my breath, “I should’ve left you in the dump.”
I leave Tatsu to his antics, borderline harassing the poor pro-hero for her autograph. It’s not my problem anymore—he can dig his own grave. My eyes wander the crowd, and that’s when I see her: Melissa. A devilish grin spreads across my face as I stealthily approach her from behind.
Without a second thought, I leap onto her, scaring the living daylights out of her. We both tumble forward, but I make sure to twist us mid-fall so she lands safely. Her panicked yelp turns into laughter as she realizes it’s me.
When we stand, All Might stumbles over his words, trying to explain my presence to the others. He’s terrible at lying. “Calm your tits, Toshinori. He knows,” I say, cutting him off before he makes things worse.
Midoriya’s eyes widen in surprise. “You two know each other?”
I let out a hearty laugh, leaning on Melissa. “Ho ho ho, you could say that,” I reply, giving her a mischievous look.
“Please, no,” she mutters, already knowing where this is going.
Ignoring her plea, I grab her by the waist and toss her into the nearest bushes. She squeals, half in protest and half in glee.
Later, we regroup in Dave’s lab. While Toshinori and Dave exchange pleasantries, I catch a piece of their conversation that makes my blood run cold.
“There’s a party!?” I yell, incredulous. “Since when?!”
Dave and Toshinori burst into laughter at my outburst, clearly enjoying my misery.
“Melissa has plenty of dresses,” Dave suggests with a chuckle. “Why not borrow one of hers?”
I eye Melissa skeptically, then gesture to my bulkier frame. “I don’t think we’re the same size anymore.” My voice drips with sarcasm as I flex for emphasis.
Dave pats my shoulder, a knowing smile on his face. “She has dresses in your size for occasions like this.”
I turn to Melissa, who’s avoiding eye contact with a red face.
“Simp,” I say with a teasing smile.
In her room, I rifle through her closet, tossing dress after dress over my shoulder, declaring each one unworthy. Melissa scrambles to catch the airborne clothing, yelling out their extravagant prices with each grab.
“That one’s 10,000 yen! This one’s designer! That’s imported!” she protests, nearly buried under a mountain of silk and chiffon.
Finally, I stop, holding up a knee-length red gown with a black corset design. The sleek lines and elegant colors scream power.
“Perfect,” I mumble, examining it like a prized trophy.
From under the pile of rejected outfits, Melissa groans. “Why are you like this?”
“You’re just as bad as me,” I retort with a smirk. “Deal with it.”
With the dress chosen and the party hours away, we decide to walk around the expo to kill time. The bustling crowd, the cutting-edge tech displays, and the hero memorabilia keep things lively. That is, until a deafening boom catches my attention.
My instincts kick in as I move toward the sound, weaving through the crowd. And then I see him.
Of course, it’s him.
Bakugo dangles from the outer railing of an obstacle course, his explosive personality on full display as he screams at whoever dares challenge him. Despite myself, a small smile creeps onto my face as I notice something glinting on his chest—the explosion necklace I gave him.
Shaking my head, I take a seat in the stands, curious about who will be unlucky enough to challenge him next. If nothing else, it’ll be a good show. Hands grasp my shoulder, followed by an exaggerated groan.
She sighs dramatically, melting into my shoulder in defeat. Before either of us can say anything else, a booming roar echoes across the arena. A massive pillar of ice suddenly towers over the challenge area, causing a collective gasp from the crowd.
“Damn it, Icy-Hot!” Bakugo shouts, his voice dripping with frustration. “You’re not better than me!”
Seizing the moment, I lean over and grab his arm, yanking him over the railing. He crashes onto his back with a startled grunt, his fiery glare meeting mine as he blinks in disbelief.
“Why are you here, Phantom Freak?” he grumbles, sitting up.
“I could ask you the same question, Lemon Boy,” I retort, smirking.
I extend a hand toward him, and he hesitates for a second before taking it. Pulling him to his feet with ease, I notice his hand lingers in mine a little longer than necessary. A flicker of something soft crosses his expression before he pulls away, his usual scowl returning.
Melissa watches us from the corner of her eye, a sly grin forming as if she’s piecing something together. I roll my eyes at her, but the warmth of Bakugo’s touch lingers a little too long for my liking—or maybe not long enough. Ew, no.
I scowl as Melissa pokes my side once Bakugo is out of earshot.
"What am I missing?" she asks, her tone laced with curiosity.
"Nothing," I reply quickly, my voice a little too high-pitched. "Absolutely nothing at all~."
She narrows her eyes at me, unconvinced, before grabbing my arm and dragging me along. "Fine, but you're telling me everything when we get ready."
"I'm doing your eyeliner," Melissa declares as I sit down, closing my eyes obediently. "Don't move."
I feel the gentle sweep of the marker across my lid, the silence stretching between us before she casually drops, "Do you like him?"
I flinch, the movement barely noticeable but enough for her to catch it. Of course, she had to ask that now.
Feigning ignorance, I stay quiet, hoping she'll let it slide.
"Answer me, Hana," she presses, her voice teasingly firm, "or I'll turn your face into a Picasso painting."
I sigh, the words spilling out reluctantly. "I... don't know how I feel."
“Open your eyes,” Melissa instructs.
My eyelids flutter open as I lean back against the ottoman. My hair tumbles around me in loose waves, and I absently toy with the ribbon on the silk robe. Melissa plops down beside me, a tube of lipstick in hand.
“Hold still,” she says, leaning in to expertly apply the color, as she’s done countless times before.
As she caps the lipstick and reaches for some gloss, she smirks. “From that one interaction alone, I’d say you two are made for each other.”
I grimace, but before I can respond, she grabs my cheeks, squishing them.
“Don’t give me that look,” she teases. “You know I’m right.”
I tilt my head slightly, grumbling under my breath as she finishes with the lip gloss.
The party hall is buzzing with activity, and I’m caught off guard by how many familiar faces I spot. Half the class is here—or rather, the main characters of the class. (Was that the sound of the fourth wall breaking?)
I weave through the crowd until I find Bakugo, who’s already scowling at the tie around his neck. Without a word, I step in front of him and tighten it. He immediately pulls at it, loosening it again.
Oh, so that’s how we’re playing it?
I tighten it once more, this time until he lets out a choking noise.
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_780
Ashido's arm is linked with mine as she drags me through the mall, her energy unrelenting. She finally corners me near the entrance of the toilets, her hands on her hips and eyes glimmering with determination.
“Are you two a thing?” she asks, barely able to contain her excitement.
“Who?” I respond, raising an eyebrow.
“You and Bakugo! He treated you like a normal human, which he never does.”
I scoff, crossing my arms. “Nope.”
She groans dramatically, throwing her head back. “Come on! Let me be a romance connoisseur!”
I roll my eyes and shove her face away with one hand, stomping off without another word. After the announcement of summer camp, Class 1-A had decided to do a joint shopping trip, which had somehow led to this.
As I weave through the crowd, something catches my eye—a jewelry store with an explosion-shaped necklace prominently displayed in the window. My steps falter, and for a moment, I stare at it.
That would be perfect for him.
I shake my head and clench my fists. No way. I will not let Ashido be right. Never.
But the thought lingers, and my resolve wavers. What she doesn’t know won’t kill her, I think as I turn sharply and slip into the store.
I step out of the store, a little box in hand and a dumb smile plastered on my face. My heart races, and despite myself, I feel giddy just thinking about him. I hate it.
(Okay, maybe I don’t. I really don’t.)
As I scan the crowd, my eyes lock onto his familiar spiky hair. Without thinking, I weave my way toward him. When I’m close enough, I tap his shoulder and shove the box into his hands, avoiding eye contact.
“Thanks for helping me,” I mumble, my voice quieter than usual.
He hesitates, his brows furrowed, before taking the box and opening it. Pulling out the necklace, he untangles it from the display board and holds it up to me.
“Why do I have to do it?” I mutter, grabbing it from him and reaching around to clasp it behind his neck.
As soon as the necklace is secure, his hands catch mine.
“You’re an idiot,” he says, his voice low and teasing, a smirk pulling at his lips.
“I know,” I reply, unable to hide my own smirk.
As we stroll through the mall, our hands occasionally brushing against each other, a sudden jolt interrupts the moment. Someone bumps into me, hard enough to make me stagger slightly.
That’s when I feel it—a chilling, all-too-familiar aura, the kind that makes my skin crawl.
“Shigaraki,” I mutter under my breath, my body tensing instinctively.
Bakugo catches the shift in my demeanor immediately, his eyes narrowing as he glances at the figure walking away in the crowd.
I start to follow the man. My steps are steady but deliberate, my gaze locked on the tattered hoodie and scratching hand ahead.
“Hana!” I hear Midoriya shout from behind me.
I pause, turning to see him rushing toward me. For a second, my focus shifts, and when I glance back, the figure—the aura—is gone.
“Goddamnit!” I hiss, frustration boiling over.
I storm toward Midoriya, my eyes scanning him up and down. “Did he attack you?” I gesture to his trembling hand, the way he rubs his neck, and the tears brimming in his eyes.
Midoriya hesitates but gives me a short nod.
“That damn prick doesn’t know when to quit,” I sigh, rubbing my temples as the weight of the situation sets in.
After a tense silence, Midoriya’s voice cuts through. “Hana… he knows who you are.”
I freeze, staring at him in disbelief. “Say that again.”
Midoriya looks me in the eye, his voice barely above a whisper. “He knows you’re a Pro-Hero.”
My blood runs cold, and for the first time in a long while, I feel a knot of fear in my chest.I scoff, the weight of his words sinking in. Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes, but I push them down. I knew this was a bad idea—going undercover, living a life of secrecy, all while pretending to be a student. Now my identity, the one thing I’ve managed to keep hidden for so long, is in the hands of the very people I’ve been trying to protect others from.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath. “At least camp would get me away from them.”
Midoriya looks at me with concern, but I don’t meet his eyes. It’s too much, and I can’t let him see the cracks forming inside. I try to pull myself together, to put on that tough exterior.
Synopsis: Hana Miura, once celebrated as the Number 4 Pro-Hero, finds her life upended after a brutal encounter with a Nomu leaves her injured and vulnerable. To protect her from further attacks and keep an eye on One For All’s new successor, Hana goes undercover as a first-year student at UA. With her sharp tongue, brash attitude, and no patience for teenage drama, she struggles to fit in while secretly keeping an eye on the League of Villains. But amidst the chaos, rivalries, and combat training, Hana discovers something unexpected. Friendship, self-discovery, and even love in the unlikeliest of places.
Chapter List
Pairing: Student!Bakugo x ProHero!OC
Words_1.5K
“Welcome, students,” Aizawa announces, his tired tone carrying across the courtyard.
A line of teachers stands in front of the final exam gate, their imposing figures adding to the weight of the moment.
“You will be paired in twos,” Nezu begins, popping out from Aizawa’s scarf with a bright smile, “and you will face one of the pro heroes standing before you.”
The class collectively gasps, their murmurs quickly escalating into protests.
“This is insane!” Kaminari exclaims.
“We’re doomed!” Mina adds dramatically, throwing her hands in the air.
Iida’s hand shoots up, cutting through the noise like a beacon of order. “Excuse me, sir! How can we be paired in twos if there is an odd number of students?”
“Patience, Iida,” Aizawa mutters, his eyes narrowing.
The teachers begin to announce the teams and the heroes each group will face, the students reacting with groans, nervous laughs, or determined nods.
“And Hana,” Nezu says with a knowing smile, “you’ll be paired with a new student.”
A hushed curiosity falls over the class as a girl steps out from behind Aizawa, her white hair streaked with vivid blue catching the sunlight. She gives a small wave, her shy demeanor contrasting sharply with the tense atmosphere.
“This is Skylar,” Aizawa says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “She will be joining us permanently if she passes the exam.”
The class stares at her, some whispering amongst themselves.
“She looks so cool,” Ashido murmurs to Jiro.
“Hope she’s ready for this,” Sero adds, scratching the back of his neck.
Skylar steps forward timidly, her eyes darting around before settling on me. I nod at her, trying to offer a reassuring smile.
“And the hero you’ll be facing,” Aizawa starts, but his sentence is cut short as someone lands dramatically in front of him, the ground cracking slightly beneath her.
“Me,” Mirko announces with a feral grin, standing tall and confident as she crosses her arms.
The students collectively flinch, a few audibly gasping.
The first few tests pass without much excitement—students being outmaneuvered or outwitted by their assigned heroes. I watch closely, analyzing strategies, though most are predictable.
Finally, the robotic voice announces through the speakers, “Hana Miura and Skylar Colmore, you’re up next.”
Skylar and I step to the starting gate. She fidgets nervously, playing with her hands and glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.
“What’s your quirk?” she asks tentatively, breaking the silence.
“Phantom,” I reply bluntly. “I can phase through stuff.”
I leave out the part where I’m unsure if my quirk is fully functional again. That’s a detail she doesn’t need to know right now.
“Ah, cool,” she nods, though her nervous energy lingers. “I can control energy… I guess.”
Her awkward laugh betrays her unease just as the siren blares, signaling the start of our test. Without a word, I dash into the testing grounds, not bothering to look back.
“Wait!” she calls, her footsteps quick as she catches up to me. Her hand grabs mine, halting my progress. I whirl around to face her, my eyes locking with hers. She stiffens under my glare but stands her ground.
“Shouldn’t we stay on the defensive?” she asks, her voice steady despite her tense posture. “Mirko is powerful.”
“All villains are powerful,” I snap back, pulling my hand from her grasp.
Skylar hesitates but doesn’t argue further. I start forward again, scanning the area for any signs of our opponent. But I don’t have to look far.
“Whatcha talking about, ladies?”
Mirko’s voice cuts through the air as she appears above us, perched on a bridge with her trademark grin plastered across her face. Her wild energy radiates down at us as she leans casually over the railing.
That was fast. Too fast.
Skylar steps back instinctively, her eyes wide. “How did she—?”
I grit my teeth, feeling the tension crackle between us. This was going to be one hell of a fight. Mirko leaps down from the bridge, landing with a thunderous impact that cracks the ground beneath her. She fluidly shifts into a low lunge, her movements as controlled as they are feral.
“Ready or not!” she grins, and in an instant, she’s sprinting toward us.
The distance vanishes in a heartbeat, and before I can fully react, she’s beside me, her fist already cocked back for a punch. I phase through the strike just in time, her fist slicing through air.
Skylar, quick on her feet, raises her hand and fires a red energy blast that hits Mirko squarely in the chest, sending the hero skidding backward.
I glance at Skylar, raising an eyebrow. “How is that just ‘I can control energy’?” I ask, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
Skylar shrugs, a sheepish grin creeping across her face. “How else would I explain it?”
Before I can respond, Mirko is already back on her feet, dusting herself off like nothing happened. Her grin is even wider now, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
“Not bad, but you’re gonna have to do better than that!” she calls, crouching slightly as her muscles tense, ready for her next move.
I crack my knuckles, feeling a surge of adrenaline. With a sharp exhale, I break into a sprint, heading straight toward her. My hand scrapes the ground as I scoop up a handful of dirt and fling it into the air ahead of me. The cloud of dust bursts out, obscuring her vision—and mine too.
Using the brief distraction, I activate my quirk and sink into the ground, phasing through the solid earth. From beneath, I spot her shins planted firmly, ready for anything.
Not this.
I surge upward, gripping her legs as I propel myself out of the ground with a burst of force. Twisting midair, I swing my legs around her neck and pull with all my strength, trying to throw her off balance. It works—for a moment.
Now perched awkwardly on her back, I fumble with the handcuffs dangling from my belt. Almost there.
But Mirko is no pushover. With a powerful kick, she bucks her legs, sending me flying. My grip slips, and before I can regain control, my face smashes into the dirt with a hard thud.
Pain explodes across my forehead as I groan, rolling onto my back. Mirko turns, towering over me with that ever-present grin, hands on her hips. I wipe the blood trickling from my now broken nose, grinning through the sting. Mirko hops back, dodging blasts of Skylar’s energy. For a moment, it seems like she has Mirko on the ropes—but then Skylar falters. She crumples to her knees, clutching her head in agony.
I step between her and Mirko, crossing my arms as I glance down at her.
“How many times was that? Seven, maybe? And now you’re done,” I say flatly.
“I’m not done,” Skylar groans, her voice strained. “That’s only five percent of my power. It hurts to push further.”
I scoff, turning away. “Then you’re useless to me.”
Her voice wavers but grows determined as she pulls herself back to her feet. “But I need to,” she says, steadying herself. “I have to. I want to become a hero!”
I stop, her words hitting a nerve. Turning slightly, I glance over my shoulder. “You sound like someone I know,” I mutter, staring into the hidden camera.
She raises her hand, her determination palpable, and I step aside to humor her. “This will be weak,” I think to myself. “Just a trickle of energy.”
A deafening gust of wind bursts past me as a massive beam of red light tears through the air, aimed directly at Mirko. The Pro Hero barely dodges, her foot caught in the tail end of the blast, sending her staggering back.
Before I can react, someone grabs me. With effortless strength, they leap to the top of a nearby building.
“What are you?” I demand, still trying to process what just happened.
Skylar turns to me, her tone unusually cheerful. “I’m Skylar,” she says, smiling.
I step back, my eyes widening as I finally take in her form. A glowing red gem protrudes from her forehead, and red streaks run down her face like tears, accented with shimmering gold lines. Rocky plates cover her cheeks and trail down her neck, giving her an otherworldly, almost monstrous appearance.
“Red Demoness,” she says, her voice sour now, filled with bitterness. “A plague in my life.”
“You’re terrifying!” I exclaim, a wide grin spreading across my face. “I love it.”
Skylar looks at me, startled, before offering a shy smile. “Thanks, I guess,” she murmurs, her voice soft despite the powerful presence she now exudes.
We both turn to glance at Mirko down below. The Pro Hero’s expression is unreadable, her sharp eyes fixed on Skylar’s transformed state, as if assessing every detail.
“Time to ace these exams,” I say, cracking my knuckles and smirking.
Skylar nods, her confidence returning. “Let’s do this.”
The gates swing open as we stride out of the exam grounds victorious. My nose is still throbbing, and Skylar is visibly drained, but we hold our heads high.
