There is a hand on his face.

More importantly, it's not his hand on his face, and it's not warm either.

So. Based on Izuku's lightning quick deduction skills, this means either he has a fake hand on his face- ridiculous really because how on earth would it have gotten there- or there is a dead person's hand on his face, which is perhaps even more ridiculous but hundreds of times more concerning.

Letting out a muffled shriek, Izuku reaches up to grab the offending hand, wrenching it off with far more effort than it really should have taken, as the hand seems to almost resist his efforts, remaining stuck on his face with a clammy grip for a few lingering seconds before finally releasing its hold. After he succeeds, he sits there, panting, and swallows. Please be a prank from Kirishima, he thinks. Or Ashido. I don't care who got me, just let it be a prank. He slowly gets his breath under control and forces himself to look down at it.

Well. Hmm. That's… yep, that's a real-life, dead hand all right.

It's so pale it is almost white, and rather than a bloody mess at the wrist, it has a golden cap. Ironically enough, now that Izuku has gotten a good look at it, he's no longer worried about the fact that there was a dead person's hand on his face.

Oh no, now he's extremely worried that there was one of Shigaraki's dead person's hands on his face.

Did these hands also turn things to dust? Oh god, they better not be able to turn things into dust. Had it been gripping his face with all five fingers? He hadn't checked. But his face didn't particularly hurt, and Izuku was fairly certain the hands were just unfortunate decorations for Shigaraki and not actually related to his quirk, so maybe he is okay. When- why had Shigaraki put it on his face-

Izuku's head snaps up as he realizes that he's been so invested in the hand that he has forgotten to check his surroundings. Which is also one huge gigantic mistake, because this is not Izuku's room, this is not UA, this is nowhere Izuku has ever been before. He's lying on a sofa, a TV playing next to him without sound, but the rest of the room is fairly dark. His lips sting, and licking them just makes them feel worse, so he must have been out of it for a decent amount of time.

Has the League of Villains captured him? He's not sure.

There are weights on his wrists, but they're not the typical feeling of handcuffs. Izuku holds his hands up only to nearly bite his tongue as he chokes back another yelp. More hands. And, now that he's looking, he's feeling the sensation of being tightly gripped all over; on his shoulders, his arms, in his hair, on his neck-

Izuku scrabbles at himself, plucking every hand he could find off of himself before dropping them in a pile beside him. He jerks to his feet, reaching for One for All, but there is only a distant echo, still there but somehow unreachable. It was not unlike what happened when Aizawa-sensei was using his quirk on him, which is better than nothing at all, but at the moment all Izuku cares about is the knowledge that he is all alone, probably with Shigaraki nearby, and his quirk is not functioning.

No. No, no, no, this is not happening, this can't be happening; Izuku was asleep at home, he is sure of it. Was it a nightmare, a result of running into Shigaraki at the mall the other day? Or did they come to his house and take him- oh no, his mom-

In his panic, he put his hand down on the couch, and he is forcibly startled out of his panic attack when the furniture starts to dissolve at his touch.

Or, to put it better, it starts to decay.

These. These are not his hands either.

Izuku holds them up in the dim lighting, flipping them over. They were much paler than his own hands, and his scars have simply evaporated much like the unfortunate piece of sofa next to him.

"Was I hit with some kind of body transformation quirk?" He mumbles. "But how would that have worked, the League doesn't have anyone like that working with them that I know of- maybe they started recruiting again? But why would they use it on me, Shigaraki would normally just kill me if he got me all the way over here- not to mention I don't think it could mess with One for All like this even if they tried something," Izuku mutters, brow furrowing as a different but mildly familiar voice replaces his own. He starts scratching his neck. His hair feels too long, and it is driving him crazy, causing his skin to crawl with discomfort. As his fingers move right over his Adam's apple, they ghost over the tell-tale marks of scabs, and Izuku freezes.

Dead hands all over him. A decay quirk. Damaged neck and longer hair. His lips are still hurting, like he hasn't drank water in a long time. And…

…and Izuku does not like where this was going.

"Okay. Mirror, I need a mirror," Izuku whispers, getting to his feet. He scans the room but comes up with nothing, and he's not quite brave enough to head into the hallway just yet. After a moment, Izuku starts to pat down his pockets- not his pants, these are someone else's-, jerking as he by accident ruins part of them with his touch. Luckily enough, he finds what he is looking for: a phone.

He struggles to not touch it with all of his fingers at once, and swipes up to open the camera and flip the view around to point it at himself.

Izuku would like to say that he is pleasantly surprised, that this has all just been wild conjectures with no real outcome, that he is still being pranked by his classmates or about to wake up in his bed at home right now.

But to say any of that would be false, and if he wants to survive this, it is best to come to terms with it.

Midoriya Izuku looks exactly like Shigaraki Tomura.

Either this is a ploy by Shigaraki, a mere appearance change (unlikely considering the status of Izuku's quirks right now), or something has gone terribly wrong, and Izuku is in Shigaraki's body.

Izuku drops the phone on the sofa and covers his face- Shigaraki's face- with his hands and groans. More and more questions are piling up in his brain with every passing second, but first things first, he needs to call someone right now and get some help.

He struggles to unlock the phone, relieved to find that Shigaraki also uses the fingerprint unlock option, and pulls up the number pad. He starts to type in All Might's number before he hesitates, wondering if he should try his own first. Because if he's in this body, then that means Shigaraki is in-

"Shigaraki Tomura," a voice calls, the door swinging open. Izuku jumps, breath shuttering in his throat as he turns and sees Kurogiri standing there. His grip tightens, and his gaze snaps back to land on the phone just in time to see it crumble into dust.

There's a moment of silence as Izuku tries not to let out a distraught keen as he watches his ticket out of here be destroyed purely by his own clumsiness. Kurogiri coughs awkwardly, his yellow eyes blinking once.

"…again?" He finally asks with the tone of a man who has put up with this shit way too many times. "You broke your last one only two weeks ago."

He doesn't know, Izuku thinks hysterically. "Uh. Well," Izuku stammers. He watches the dust drain from his hands, and slowly shakes them free of the remaining powder. "It was the phone's fault," Izuku mutters, unsure of how the two interact. He chooses to speak informally, because he can't imagine Shigaraki caring to use formalities with anyone but All for One, and is relieved when Kurogiri merely nods.

"I see. But, seeing as we're busy today, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until tomorrow before we can get you a new one."

"Wha- no, no, I need to have a phone today," Izuku protests, but Kurogiri waves him off.

"I'm sure your other video game consuls will be fine for twenty-four hours. Until then, I have all of the contacts and scheduling on my own phone." Kurogiri nods, and then pauses to look him up and down. "Muscular is here, and we can finally start the meeting." Kurogiri's yellow eyes narrow, and Izuku swallows as he seems to give him a disapproving shake of his head. "But first, please put on some new pants. I'm aware you dislike dressing… formally… but the hole-in-the-pants fad is just pushing it."

Izuku looks down at his ruined pants and then back up at Kurogiri, who is still staring at him. "Um. Can I borrow your phone first?" He hopefully asks the villain, but seeing Kurogiri's unenthusiastic expression as he glances down at the piles of gray powder and back up at Izuku, Izuku sighs. "Fine," he settles on, turning away, and biting down on the urge to press the issue. "I'll be out in five."

Kurogiri bows and slips back out, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Izuku paces, eyes roaming the room for some kind of escape or weapon. Without a phone, he needs to get out of here fast, or find a phone elsewhere. Because, face it, Izuku doesn't have confidence in his villain acting skills. Where is Iida when he needs him, anyways? Iida probably can get into character a lot more effectively than he can.

Izuku chuckles at the memory of their first combat exercise before he sighs and runs a hand through his long hair, not used to the length and the way it kept getting in his eyes. Well, staying in this room won't help. He quickly opens several drawers and finds several pairs of black clothing and throws on a new pair of pants, ignoring the several pairs that he destroys by accident as he roots around. He's ready to venture outside now, but passes by the pile of hands and pauses. He knows he's too expressive, and the last thing he needs is to give himself away when Shigaraki has a convenient way to hide his face already in place.

But. The hands.

"You can do this," he tells himself sternly, hesitantly picking one of the offending appendages back up. "Just some dead hands. Which you'll be wearing. On your face." Izuku grimaces. "Nothing horrifying about that at all." He thinks that there are differences as to which hand is which- wasn't 'Father' supposed to go on his face? He has no idea which one that is. He puts the largest one up to his face, biting his lip when the hand latches on with little prompting. He makes quick work putting the other thirteen hands back where he had found them, immediately deciding with every additional hand that this is, in fact, ridiculous.

Stumbling a bit as Izuku adjusts to his limited sight, he wanders to the doorway. He takes a deep breath, trying not to think about the faint scent of formaldehyde, and pushes the door open. He slowly steps outside, looking down a dark hallway that offers no hints as to where Kurogiri has gone. On one hand- ha, he thinks dryly- he could just pretend it was too much work to have listened to Kurogiri and go wandering. If he finds him, he finds him. Shigaraki did strike him as a very petulant type… his hands wander up to his neck, uncomfortable at having two hands there. He can still clearly remember Shigaraki laughing as he strangled him at the mall, red eyes glinting as the villain knew Izuku had no choice but to quietly sit there and take whatever pain he had wanted to inflict.

Don't, he tells himself. He decides to go left on a whim, and starts walking, slightly stooped over but walking with purpose. The walls have some scattered posters on them, giving off the feeling of a condemned building. His mouth feels dry, and he wonders if All for One is in this very building. Part of him wants to know, knows that if he wants a chance to gather information on All for One's plans, now would be the opportunity, but the rest of him is too worried to follow that train of thought. Getting info is useful, but making sure Izuku's body- Shigaraki in it or not- isn't hurting his mother and friends is much more important. Because either Izuku's been replaced with a murderer, which is admittedly bad, or his body is comatose right now, and he honestly doesn't know which is worse, since either could scare his poor mother and friends half to death.

He lets out a shaky breath, aware that his hands (the actual ones) are slightly shaking. "I'm fine," he tells himself sternly. "I'm fine, this is fine, I just have to-"

"Tomura~!" A voice calls, and Izuku stiffens so suddenly he almost stumbles and falls over. He slowly looks back over his shoulder, wondering who has appeared.

A girl skips towards him, blonde hair in two messy buns. She's grinning, and something about her expression makes Izuku feel wary even without having to be told she's here for a good reason. Despite her high school uniform and pleased expression, she's dangerous.

"What is it?" Izuku rasps, trying to narrow his eyes at her through the space between the fingers of the hand on his face.

The girl giggles, skidding to a halt a couple of feet from him. "What? Not gonna call me a 'snot-nosed little shit' anymore? Have you warned up to me already? I'm so happy!"

Izuku… isn't sure how to respond to that. Is she new to the League of Villains? From the sound of it, it can't have been more than a few weeks since she joined. And if Shigaraki doesn't care to call her by name, Izuku is safe even if he doesn't know hers. He can do this. "You're still… that," Izuku mutters, not quite comfortable cussing at someone he has just met. "You haven't earned my respect yet, brat."

"Oh? And what do I have to do to do that, Tomura?" She laughs, as if there'd been a joke in what Izuku had said. "Just give me a number. I'll bring you back the equivalent number of heads!" She blushes, eyes misting over as she looks away from Izuku and seems to get lost in her thoughts, and Izuku has to steel himself from stepping backwards.

"No. Just stay put until you can make yourself useful," Izuku grits out. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go-"

"'Excuse you?'" The girl parrots back, openly amused at his usage of this phrase, and Izuku feels his stomach drop as he realizes his mistake.

"That- it is just an expression. I thought you'd implicitly get that I meant get the hell out of my way," Izuku quickly snaps. His hands are still slightly quivering, and he tucks them close together to stop them for shaking, scared she'll see-

Something silver flashes, and Izuku's hands instinctively dart up, grabbing a knife seconds before it buries itself in his shoulder. The knife crumbles away to nothing in his grasp, and Izuku lets the particles fall to the floor.

There's a beat of silence.

"Did you just- did you just try and stab me?" Izuku demands. Don't sound scared, he orders himself. Sound mad. Shigaraki always sounds mad. I own this place, everyone here works under me, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay-

"Yup!" His assailant says nonchalantly, grinning. "I had to make sure you weren't an imposter, after all~!"

He can't breathe. The hands around his throat are tightening, squeezing, he's going to be strangled, he's messed up- no. No, he has to be better at this.

"Why the fuck would I be an imposter," Izuku snarls. His voice catches in his throat, but it sounds more like rage than anything more incriminating. Channel my inner Kacchan, he tells himself. Just make it a hundred times creepier. "You think I don't make sure spies don't get in? Huh?"

"Well, I was just checking! No need to fuss about it," she argues back, her expression suddenly shifting into something much colder as she eyes Shigaraki seriously. "Besides, can you really blame me? After all," and here she leans forwards, eyes half-lidded. "That's my quirk's job," and she smirks like she just told Izuku the best secret ever before abruptly spinning back around, apparently starting to walk back.

Izuku stares after her, the implications of a quirk made for infiltration churning in his head, when the girl looks back over her shoulder. "Well?" She calls. "Aren't you coming?"

Shoot. Izuku closes his eyes for a second, taking a moment to try and force himself back into some spectrum of being calm. "Where?" Izuku manages to ask over the static in his head. He needs to get away, but there's no way to do that if she raises the alarm that Shigaraki's acting weird.

"Kurogiri sent me, silly! He said you're needed for this meeting! Planning for the kidnapping of the U.A. student and the whole attack, you know? What'll we do without our boss there?" The girl says, mouth curling back into that same terrifying predatory smirk.

And Izuku stands there, his thoughts scattering into the wind as all he can manage to think is please, god no, not again. And then his feet are moving, taking him back the way he had come, towards the villains and into the belly of the beast.

"Fine, let's get this damn meeting over with, then," he hears himself say, and all Izuku can do is hope that he's doing the right thing.

And if he's not, well… he probably won't have to worry about his mistake for too terribly long. He doubt they'd let him survive for more than a few days once they put Shigaraki back in this body.

The first thing Tomura sees when he wakes up is All Might's face, making this maybe the Second Worst Morning he has ever had.

And, oh no, it's not one picture of All Might that he's looking at, either; it's some kind of god forsaken shrine to the man.

If this is Kurogiri's idea of a joke, he's going to need a new party member immediately.

Tomura grunts and gets up, loudly cracking his neck before taking an abrupt swipe at the nearest offender: an eyesore of a small figurine that is just asking to be decayed. He grips it tightly and grins, waiting to see the number one hero crumble away to dust… except instead of that, All Might's disgusting face just stares back, that stupid grin taunting him.

"What?" Tomura growls. He startles briefly, confused because his voice sounds high pitched and squeaky. "What the hell's going on?" He pauses, considering, and is about to get up when he looks back down at the object in his hand. "This is pissing me off," he says before narrowing his eyes at the figurine and chucking it as hard as he can at the far wall, only mildly appeased as it knocks down three other pieces of All Might shit. He looks down at his hands, confused to find his nails short and clipped, not to mention his oddly tan skin and scars which were definitely not there yesterday.

His eyes dart around the room, pointedly ignoring the various eyesores before he strides over to a mirror hanging on the wall. Staring at his reflection for a moment, Tomura finds himself unable to formulate an exact response to what he finds there. After a long stare, he lets out a hiss through his teeth, scratching at his neck until he feels the welcoming sensation of blood, and watches as Midoriya Izuku does the same. "What the hell is this?" He asks the mirror. "Some kind of fucking side quest?"

Midoriya Izuku has an unimpressive face. Freckles are everywhere, like someone had flung mud at the brat's face and it had stained. His hair is irritatingly curly, and his eyes are much too wide and everything about this picture is infuriating. Worst of all, he just looks like an NPC despite his tendency to meddle, and Tomura is no NPC. Besides that, he'd already said the next time he saw this shitty face was when he'd decide to kill him so why-

Tomura stiffens. He slowly looks down, lips pulling back into a snarl as he beholds the god awful All Might pajamas he is wearing. In large yellow English letters, 'All Might All Right' is written across his chest with yet another visage of Tomura's most hated enemy. He doesn't know if Midoriya had known this shit was going to happen, but that does absolutely not matter at this point because either way that little brat has made Tomura wear All Might merchandise and for that he is absolutely going to make him pay.

After he yanks the shirt off and throws it on the floor, Tomura dumps out several drawers looking for clothing that is half-way decent. He has no idea why half of the shirts have stupid writing on them and the other half are yet more hero merchandise, but he settles for a black short-sleeve that just says 'shirt' on it. While he's at it, he pulls on some pants, annoyed all of the long-sleeve clothing seems to have been packed away for the summer.

After another glance at the mirror, Tomura drums his fingers on his arm, thinking. He isn't exactly sure what has happened, but it's making his head hurt and he promptly decides to put off thinking about it for the moment. Instead, he takes at least ten minutes to rip down all of the All Might posters and knock everything off of the countertops, nodding to himself when everything is absolutely wrecked, decay quirk or not.

"Now that that quest is done," Tomura starts to say, trying to decide what to do next, when suddenly he hears a knock and an unfamiliar voice calls through the door.

"Izuku, sweetie? Are you okay? What were those noises?"

Who? Perhaps Midoriya's mother. Should he kill her? That would be entertaining, murdering the little shit's own mother with his own body and ridiculous quirk. He could even frame Midoriya for it all, and ruin his career as a hero in a far more spectacular way than any simple hero's death would achieve. Tomura takes a deep breath, concentrating on his arm and expectantly waiting for green lightning.

…nothing.

Was this thing even on?

Tomura shakes his hand, eyebrows slowly creeping down as one of his eyes twitched. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." How did one go about activating a quirk, anyways? He hadn't ever needed to know that crap, it just happens for him. Was he stuck without a quirk for the time being?

"What was that?" The voice persists, grating on his nerves. He nods to himself, deciding on just going for old fashioned strangulation, when she continues speaking. "Hurry up, Izuku, you wouldn't want to miss your last day at school before the break!"

Before he realizes what he's doing, Tomura wrenches the door open. "What," he asks.

A short, round woman with the appearance of a dead head of lettuce blinks back at him, for some reason smiling and cheerful despite how obviously terrible a mood Tomura is in. "Your last day! After school we can start packing for your school trip, okay?"

"After school?" Tomura repeats thoughtfully, scratching his neck. Suddenly, he feels a lot better, and it's easy to make a quick decision. "Ah, yeah. That, of course. How… thoughtless of me."

"Oh- Izuku! You're bleeding," the annoyance comments, reaching up and pulling his hand down. "Geez, did mosquito season start early? I'll get you some ointment and bandaids while you get dressed."

Tomura bit back the comment that he is, in fact, dressed, thanks a fucking bunch, but he remembers just in time that the U.A. brats all wear uniforms. He gives the woman a jerky nod before retreating back into the room- and yes, he resists glaring at the All Might name tag on the door, even if it takes a decent amount of energy to do so- all the while using his body to block her view of the destroyed room.

Once again he has to go through all the drawers, finally pulling on the uniform. He struggles with the tie for about thirty seconds before chucking it to the side, already pissed off at his failed attempts. God, he hates ties. He has no skill points for dressing formally, but that doesn't matter. Normally no one he cares about or is important enough dares make him wear a suit. Kurogiri may try, but at least it is in an irritatingly familiar tone rather than an infuriating condescending one.

He glances in the mirror one more time, glaring sullenly at his reflection. He didn't have anything to worry about with his actual body- Sensei is smart and powerful enough to realize Tomura isn't actually there, and will take care of it until he gets back. Tomura almost wishes he can see the brat get caught, although the thought of his own face having those warped, naïve expressions did piss him off considerably. Ideally, by the time Tomura returns to the base, not only will he have more knowledge of All Might's weaknesses, but also Midoriya Izuku will be at his mercy.

He has a few things to answer for, after all.

Tomura starts humming the background music of a video game before exiting the room again, slipping a phone from the counter side into his pocket and shutting the door firmly behind him. While killing the mother would be satisfying, he doesn't have the power to do so right now, and he has bigger EXP to gain from other players first. He knows where Midoriya lives now; he'll be back.

Sensei will be proud of his planning, he's sure.

"Oh, Izuku, here!" The mother greets him, holding out bandages. Tomura bares his teeth at her, taking them and gritting his teeth to keep smiling as he applies them.

"Thanks," he manages to say.

The woman gives him a lingering look- Tomura can't read what emotion is flickering in her eyes, nor does he care enough to try- and nods. "…of course, Izuku," she says. And then "is everything okay?"

It sounds suspiciously like doubt, and Tomura pauses, smile fading. Maybe he should try and kill her after all- but then again, a chance to infiltrate U.A. High School and see it for himself, outside of the intel his spy has passed on. "Nothing," he lies, his face hurting. How the hell did people smile this much, anyways? "Just a bad dream, nothing to worry about."

"If you're sure," she responds. After a moment, she turns back around to the countertop. "So, breakfast?"

"Not interested." Tomura locates a book bag by the door, pulling on a pair of eyesore red shoes and standing back up to yank open the front door. "Bye," he adds flatly.

"Oh- have a safe trip!"

The door slams shut behind him, and Tomura lets out an annoyed huff. "Irritating," he repeats. He stands there for a moment, turning his head as he tries to figure out where he is. He fishes out Midoriya's phone from his pocket with one hand, unlocking it with a finger's touch and typing in U.A.'s address. Nodding to himself, he sets off, a sneer on his face and a mad glint in his green, green eyes.

No one even looks twice at him as Tomura slips inside U.A. High School. It's exhilarating, as Tomura rarely does stealth quests. He's more of an upfront battle royale kind of player, but he could honestly get used to this. He doesn't know where Midoriya is supposed to be, but that doesn't worry him since he's just going to go look for All Might for the time being. Or, that was the plan a least, but a girl with short brown hair and the boy related to the downed hero Ingenium appear.

The two startle when they see him, the girl waving a hand while the boy clears his throat. "…honestly, Midoriya, it's bad enough that Bakugou-kun dresses like that, but that doesn't mean you should follow his example," the annoying boy with square glasses immediately says.

"What?" Tomura snaps. What was it with everyone telling him how he should dress? "I'm wearing the damn uniform."

The two students exchange glances, and Tomura resists the urge to start scratching his neck. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Does Midoriya cuss? He didn't hear him cuss even when he had had Midoriya in a life-or-death situation, so perhaps not. Whatever. It's not like the first thing these idiots would think of is Tomura having taken over this body with a little bit of odd behavior.

"Well, yes, you are, but your hair does look unkempt- did you even brush it this morning?" Glasses says. "Not to mention your lack of tie."

"Well, maybe I'm tired. I'm not trying to impersonate Bakugou or anything," Tomura grits out. "So just leave me alone for today."

He doesn't remember many U.A. student names- just the top four or five, that was all that was needed. Neither of these two are particularly important, so Tomura has no idea what they are called. But the girl had been the one to interrupt him at the mall- he remembers that much. She is somewhat on his "people I'll get around to killing" list, but then again, most hero types are. She is nothing special, just a simple, boring, naïve child that is getting in his way.

Not waiting to see what they do, Tomura roughly brushes past them, just in time to hear the girl mutter "Bakugou?" under her breath in a puzzled tone.

He thinks they're finally taking the hint and leaving him alone when a hand closes in around his wrist, unafraid of being metaphorically burned. "Wait," Square Glasses says.

"What."

The boy flinches slightly under his caustic glare, shifting slightly as if his confidence has suddenly fled out the window. "Class is… class is the other way," he finally answers. "…seriously, Midoriya, are you doing all right? If this is about the incident at the mall-"

"If I say it is, will you leave me alone?" Tomura growls. "But fine, if you insist, sure, take me to class. It's not like I come here every day or anything, right?"

Tomura can't fucking do this.

It's by far the worst thing he's ever had to do, and that's saying something, because he's done a lot. But sitting through English class with a teacher that won't shut up? With a screaming quirk of all things?

With bleary eyes, he shifts to check the clock and nearly shoves his desk over right then and there. He has been sitting here. Bored to death. For only ten minutes. He shifts his glower to whatever NPC happens to be in his line of sight.

Bakugou Katsuki is sitting in front of him, which is interesting enough. He's not really taking notes, leaning back in his chair towards Tomura. If he wants to, he could wrap both hands around the younger teen's throat and squeeze. It would be easy; there are so many openings in every brat's pose here, as if they expect they're safe here.

How disgustingly simple-minded.

Tomura clenches his hands again, trying to call on Midoriya's quirk. Still nothing, so he digs the short nails into his palms and squeezes until he knows for sure that he is bleeding. His gaze slides back and he turns a bit to see the full classroom. He recognizes Endeavor's son, and the two from this morning. The brat with the bird head is also vaguely familiar- did he stand out during the Sports Festival? He can't remember, so probably not important. One girl- Yao-something- is also a recommended student, but that's about it. None of these other NPCs look particularly powerful, so why they're considered to have the most potential to become shitty heroes is beyond him. He supposes it could be-

"-Midoriya-san? Oi, kid!" Present Mic says, interrupting his thoughts, and Tomura tunes back in just in time to cover his ears from the damn teacher's prattling.

"What?!" Tomura snaps.

The loud-mouthed idiot frowns at him. "Hey, hey, kid, that's not cool! Address your teachers with some respect! I asked if you knew the answer to exercise-"

"I don't know the damn answer."

Present Mic stares at him, and Tomura lifts his chin and stares back, crossing his arms and leaning back. If he moves to touch him, Tomura could use his chair or books to attack him with, and he doubts the idiotic heroic ideal would allow the man to attack his precious student.

But the hero merely moves on, asking some other brat instead and continuing the lesson. Tomura merely stares out the window, fingers tapping on the desk as he bides his time.

For the rest of the lesson, he feels the weight of several gazes on his back. But he'll deal with that shit later.