-This is made by Starrshard on Ao3 and Wattpad, please check them out. I have been given permission to upload this to, as they do not have an account on this website-
The entire group gathered in the cafeteria. Mashirao and Mezou had shoved some tables together to form a long table that seated all 23 of the students. Once everyone was settled, Yaomomo began going down the rows, requesting any gathered information.
"Personally, my group didn't find much," She herself reported. "The locker rooms are exactly as we'd left them, and the locks are all still intact. No trophies, medals, or banners are missing, and nothing more was added to the shelves. The gym was deserted. The training tools are still in the supply closet. The windows had metal plates over them, and there were surveillance cameras in all the rooms and hallway."
If Mashirao could still move his tail, it would have been tucked between his legs in anxiety.
"We did find the laundry room, though!" Nejire decided to pipe up. "It replaced one of the extra classrooms. It's like the ones in the dorms, plus some bleach, borax, and other oddball laundry supplies." The bright lilt to her voice had begun to return, much to Mashirao's relief. Tenya would've liked this. Getting back to work on a game plan. He tried to ignore the twist of sorrow in his stomach.
"That isn't worth shit unless you want to wash your goddamn clothes or something!" Katsuki barked from the other side of the room.
"Oh yeah, Katsuki, what happened to... Tenya?" Denki asked, his voice softening on the last word.
"Kurogiri came and whisked him away. He said they'd take care of him." Katsuki said, his words clipped. A heavy silence fell over the group as they took in that information.
"I'm sorry!" Eijirou wailed. "We didn't do anything..! We couldn't-!"
"Nobody blames you," Izuku cut him off gently. His voice shook dangerously. I can't blame him, though...
"If that's all," Yaomomo spoke up, hushing the murmurs of the group. "Then we should go down to the library and study some books on non-quirk-related fighting and strength techniques. Anything that'd help us fight the villains, or get out of here."
Mashirao, and the rest of his classmates, agreed with her idea. The group quietly got up and went down to the library, where the afternoon and evening were used for studying. All Mashirao learned was a possible weight trick that he'd try on the screws on the windows later. He really was starting to miss the sun.
It took the whole day to scour the entirety of the massive U.A. library, since Yaomomo decided to send half of the students on exploration duty again, in hopes of finding some secret passageway or weapons to use against the villains. At 10 P.M., the ringing of a bell sounded. On the new TV monitor, which was mounted on the library ceiling, a video flashed to life.
Mashirao stared in confusion at Monokuma's face on the screen. What do they want..?
"Ahem! This is a school announcement. It is now ten P.M. As such, it is now officially nighttime. Good night, sleep tight! Don't let the bed bugs bite..! Upuhuhu!" With that cheery message, the screen flickered back into darkness.
Tooru, who was sitting next to Mashirao, shut her book with a heavy snap, a red, velvet ribbon bookmark caught between the pages. "I guess we can't operate without sleep." Her eyelids were starting to droop, and in an overwhelming wave of tiredness Mashirao realized just how sleepy he had become.
"You're right," Yaomomo sighed, closing her book and resting it on the table next to her. "Come on, guys. Let's go find the exploration group and call it a day. I suppose we can sleep in the dorms."
And like that, after a long day's worth of emotional rollercoasters, Mashirao made his way back to his dorm space, which he had been supposed to share with Tenya.
"Good night, Tenya," Mashirao whispered, stroking his fingertips along Tenya's nameplate. He sighed before entering his own room.
His dorm, as aligned with his assigned Ultimate talent of 'Ultimate Martial Artist', was filled with training equipment, wall murals, and sliding screens, styled like a professional dojo; he vaguely wondered what the others' rooms looked like in comparison.
Mashirao showered and changed before collapsing in bed, his consciousness drifting away as soon as his head hid the pillow.
Our first day here... it's over already.
The next day, everyone gathered once more in the cafeteria. Upon a short discussion, the group decided to study the papers the previous evening's exploration revealed in the principal's office. They consisted of some emergency plans in case of villain attacks -all of which obviously failed in the face of reality- and a blueprint for an evacuation bunker, which had a 'REJECTED' stamp in the corner in red ink. In other words, they had wasted two hours.
Half of the class decided to go back to the library, and perhaps tinker with the computers a little. The other half -including Mashirao- decided to go up to the kitchen and make a feast for lunch. Aside from some light snacks the previous evening, nobody had had a meal since they arrived last morning. Nobody could really stomach anything the previous night, either, with death and gore fresh on their minds.
Last morning. Was it only that short a while ago that Tenya had been alive, that we'd all been alive and composed?
And that was how Mashirao found himself in the massive kitchen across from the cafeteria. He busied himself by filling a rice pot with water and rinsing the white grains. As he did so, he glanced absently over at Hitoshi.
The violette was idly spinning a wooden spoon inside his pot of miso on the range set next to Mashirao's. He was wearing that faraway look again, not even noticing when he began to overmix the soup.
"Hey. Hitoshi?" Mashirao asked softly, just loud enough for the teen in question to hear him over the bustle of the kitchen around him. When Hitoshi didn't respond, Mashirao turned off the water and placed his pot on the counter, leaning over to gently nudge Hitoshi on the shoulder. "Hitoshi?"
Hitoshi jumped, nearly dropping the spoon. "What?" he asked as he regained part of his composure.
"Um, you kind of had a weird look in your eyes... it was a little concerning." No way Mashirao was going to confess how much he'd been worrying over him and Ochako's states over the past day. Ochako's mental instability he could understand, with her family and whatnot, but he didn't even know himself why he worried so much about Hitoshi, of all people.
He could be monitoring Fumikage, who seemed so unfazed it was unnerving, or Tamaki, who seemed insecure to levels of dysfunctionality ever since the capture, but instead, he couldn't stop worrying about this stupid brainwasher guy who used him like a toy in the Sports Tournament.
"P-plus, um, you're messing up the soup," Mashirao added quickly when Hitoshi met his gaze with unresponsive, clouded indigo eyes. At that, the violette glanced down and lifted his spoon.
"Thanks, I suppose," Hitoshi muttered. He tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot, shaking the excess liquid off of it, before turning around to go get a ladle and bowl from the cupboard.
Mashirao sighed. He returned to his own job of washing the rice, while switching over to sneak glances at Ochako, whom he also had his eye on, albeit less than Hitoshi.
There she was, talking to Mezou and Rikidou. The trio were by the cupboards and cabinets containing baking supplies and a variety of other treats, like spices and dried fruits. Regardless, Ochako was holding up a bag of what looked like flour.
"Mezou, Rikidou! Look what I found!" Ochako lifted up her little trinket.
"What is that?" Mezou asked the question Mashirao had in mind. The octopus-man's hands were full with the two pots of udon he was about to take to the central island the cooks had reserved for finished dishes.
"Is that mochiko?" Rikidou suddenly spoke up. He had been making a tray of pastries, and was about to slide it into the oven behind him.
"Yup!" Ochako's voice was surprisingly bright. When Mashirao shot a glance over at her, he saw the renewed happiness in her chocolate eyes. "I can make mochi! In fact, I'll go make some right now!"
So she's recovered, it seems... looking at her now, it's hard to think of how depressed she was yesterday, when Izuku and Tsuyu had to comfort her as she cried in the hallway after the noon meeting.
After about half an hour, Mashirao and Yaomomo had managed to gather everyone in the cafeteria for their nice lunch. They'd all filled their plates and bowls, had a toast, and started eating when Tsuyu spoke up over the light chatter.
"Guys, kero," she called out, catching the attention of the group. "Since we're all here for a leisurely time for once, how about we share our Ultimate titles? If we're to honor Tenya and be a team, it's best if we know each other completely, including sharing these given names."
That roused some murmurs, but for the most part everyone consented.
"I guess we can go around the table," Tsuyu said after taking a sip of her drink. "I'm the Ultimate Swimmer, kero. I suppose it makes sense. For my training, I joined my school swim team. I've made regional and national youth competitions." Tsuyu's expression was neutral, her appearance calm.
"Impressive," Ochako grinned through a mouthful of rice. "I'm the Ultimate Mochi Chef! Fitting, I know." She shot a glance down at the dish of mochi containing various fillings on the table, which she'd made. The dish in question to her Ultimate must've cheered her up, Mashirao mused. A little random, but it's understandable.
"I'm the Ultimate Hope, whatever that means. This mochi is delicious, by the way," Izuku added. His voice still trembled at times, but he seemed to be less fearful than the day before.
"Ultimate Conspiracy Theorist," Shouto stated without any further elaboration as he continued slurping his cold soba.
"I'm the Ultimate Affluent Progeny," Yaomomo said, disappointed. "I suppose they couldn't think of any better traits of mine."
"Villains can be just stupid," Kyouka said in a gesture of comfort. "And I'm the Ultimate Musician," she continued. "I mean, it kinda works, considering I can play a bunch of instruments..."
"Are you kiddin' me? You can play a ton of instruments, AND you're really, really good!" Denki reassured, patting her arm. "Ultimate Electrician over here, by the way," he added. "Other than my former Electricity Quirk, I helped my dad on the job a lot. He's an electrician, so it kind of rubbed off on me."
"I'm the Ultimate Bodybuilder!" Eijirou gave a crooked half-grin. "I guess it does make sense."
"Ultimate Explosion King," Katsuki snarled through a mouthful of spicy curry.
"Oh come on, we all know that can't be your legit title. Spit it out!" Tooru waved her arms at Katsuki, nearly taking out Mashirao's face, as well as his bowl of rice and Mezou's udon.
"None of your goddamn business, Ghosty!" Katsuki yelled back across the table.
"Give it up, Tooru, he won't answer," Mina waved her hand at her friend. "I'm the Ultimate Dancer," she continued. "Apparently my dancing is a lot better than I thought! Or they couldn't think of any other memorable things about me."
"I'm sure your dancing's great," Hanta interjected. "I'm the Ultimate Arachnologist. I studied spiders in my spare time to come up with interesting ways to use my Quirk, and I kept a tarantula as a pet as well. I think he should be okay, as long as he managed to get out of his tank..." He murmured the last part worriedly, his eyes clouding over.
'Personally, I'm scared of spiders...' Kouji signed, subtly shuffling his chair away from Hanta. 'But... I'm the Ultimate Animal Tamer.' He seemed anxious, as usual.
"Ultimate Nightwalker," Fumikage stated, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. He's still wearing that undisturbed look...
"Creepy! Like, does that mean you're basically a night-owl? Someone who goes around at night instead of day?" Nejire Nejire'd, calling out her questions from the other end of the table.
"I suppose you could put it like that," Fumikage replied. Since the room was quiet, spare the sound of the heating systems running and the clinking of utensils, the two could hear each other perfectly fine.
"I find that Ultimate intriguing, Fumikage," Mezou put in. "I do wonder how you resist from falling asleep in class if you're half nocturnal. Spare the answer," he swiftly added as Fumikage opened his beak to respond. "Personally, I am the Ultimate Heavylifter."
"That sounds about right, since you're super strong, even without your extra arms," Tooru chimed in. "I'm the Ultimate Artist!"
...Ultimate Artist? She's never brought that up before, and her room had zero art and painting supplies in it, too...
"I've never seen any work of yours," Mashirao noted. "You'll have to show me sometime. What's your main focus?"
"Oh, I focus primarily on painting. I took a painting club up until I passed the U.A. Entrance Exam. I don't really have any paintings on me right now, since... well..." Tooru trailed off.
"I could ask the League for painting supplies," Mashirao suggested. "If they're going to continue to provide us with food and shelter, they probably wouldn't mind that."
Tooru nodded slowly, as if hesitant of the idea of the League providing her her supplies. "Later, I suppose."
"Yeah, once we've all settled. Ah, I'm the Ultimate Martial Artist myself," Mashirao announced to the group, realizing that he hadn't yet revealed his own talent. "It's accurate, alright."
"And I'm the Ultimate Psychic," Hitoshi continued the chain. His eyes had regained some focus. The upbeat atmosphere of the group was starting to rub off on him, it seemed.
However, Hitoshi didn't elaborate at all, which was rather unlike him. Mei noticed the silence and cleared her throat, her magenta gloves having been removed for the meal.
"If we're continuing, I'm the Ultimate Inventor! I mean, I did make the adjustments for all of your hero outfits, didn't I?" Mei's calculating, yellow eyes gleamed with pride, having regained some spunk.
"Power Loader-Sensei did mine ," Yuga retorted. "Et je suis le Modèle Ultime !"
"...That means 'Ultimate Model'," Izuku added to translate the blonde's words.
"You're too French for us," Rikidou joked. "Moving along, I'm the Ultimate Baker."
A small silence followed. Mashirao cleared his throat. "Tenya..." He glanced over at the empty seat between Rikidou and Nejire. "Tenya was the Ultimate Race Car Driver. I once heard him say he used to participate in races... He mostly won first or second."
"I never would've expected Tenya to be a race car driver," Nejire commented. Mashirao smiled, glad that everyone had decided not to wallow in their grief. "I'm the Ultimate Beauty Pageant Star, by the way!"
"Well," Tamaki murmured. "I'm the Ultimate Florist." He didn't speak any more, which seemed like something he would do, but he still seemed excessively anxious, fiddling with his chopsticks.
"And I'm the Ultimate Hope, too!" Mirio announced, finishing up the ring of students. "It looks like we can twin, Izuku!"
The rest of the meal went on without trouble. For the afternoon, the group continued exploration.
There goes another day, Mashirao thought as he collapsed in bed that night. Another day of practically useless exploration. At least we figured out the whole thing with the Ultimates, though. That was all we actually figured out...
The next day passed with ease as well. The group split up and did a re-exploration, with Eijirou and Kyouka uncovering some questionable items -matches, pocket knives, and poisons, to name a few- from various locations.
Again, they had group meals, discussing their past experiences outside of hero work and relating to their Ultimates. By the end of it, Mashirao had learned that Fumikage occasionally goes days without sleep, Mezou once went to the United States for a wrestling competition, and Tooru's favorite hobby was attending museums.
At the end of the day, though, it wasn't much. There was nothing that pointed in the direction of escape.
Mashirao went to bed once again in his dorm. We're not making any progress... all we found were some matches, which are useless anyway...
He'd drifted off to sleep. He didn't know for how long, but he was awoken in the night by a knock on his door.
"Hm?" Mashirao sat up with a start. The lights were still off, indicating it was still night-time. Mashirao squinted at the clock on the wall, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and just barely made out the hour hand, which was a smidge past 3 A.M..
"Who would wake me up at three in the morning? And why me?" Mashirao grumbled to himself as he dragged himself over to the door in his slippers. As he opened the door, letting the overly bright light of the common area into his room, his eyes widened.
"Wh- Hitoshi?" Mashirao was so surprised he couldn't even bother giving a proper greeting, and he considered himself a polite person. "What are you doing here? And why are you awake?"
His eyes flickered across the slightly taller violette's face. The bags under his eyes had grown much more prominent, and his eyes were tinged with red.
"Err- I couldn't sleep, so I decided to come over and maybe talk..." Hitoshi awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.
"Come in, then," Mashirao said slowly, opening the door fully and half-blinding himself in the process. He assumed Hitoshi wanted to talk to him in particular because of how he'd noticed his drop in mood. Fumikage, who was his neighboring dormmate, wasn't the most sympathetic or patient of people, and Denki wasn't exactly one to sit still, either. Plus, Izuku might still want to be left alone.
Hitoshi hovered hesitantly in the middle of the room, lost amidst the equipment scattered around him. Mashirao shuffled over in the dim lighting, approaching his bed. "Come and sit." He patted the sheets next to him, and Hitoshi complied, settling on the mattress. An awkward beat of silence passed between them, and Mashirao cleared his throat. "So, um... talk?"
The violette took a heavy breath. "It's about the videos. I kept thinking about them, and I feel bad because of it."
Well, clearly he's the definition of 'to-the-point'. "Well then, what did they show you?"
Hitoshi hesitated, then sighed. "I suppose with all that's been going on, the secret wouldn't be worth keeping..." His violet eyes glistened in the darkness. "They showed me my family. Aizawa and Yamada... and Eri, too."
"Wait, wait, wait. Hold up." Mashirao waved his hands at Hitoshi's face, unknowingly nearly stabbing him in the eye as his brain did backflips. "Your parents are OUR TEACHERS?"
"Mmh-hmm..."
"AND THEY'RE MARRIED?!"
"Yeah," Hitoshi murmured softly. "The whole thing is supposed to be a secret, though, so don't go telling everyone else.
"Anyways, the video kinda shook me. I was close to them, you know..? They had adopted me when I was eight. The entire concept of affection had been foreign to me before then, and they'd made up for it. They really were my family. And now they're prisoners at the mercy of the villains, depending on whether or not we murder someone for the sake of their freedom..." Hitoshi's voice tapered off. Mashirao felt pity wash over himself as Hitoshi continued.
"Then there was Tenya's death. He'd been a great friend to me. He was always there for me when my dads couldn't be. And now he's gone, too. And everyone accepted it, took his ideals in stride and pushed forward, staying strong for each other. I just couldn't do it.
"I tried, Mashirao. I tried to remember what Tenya would've wanted, what my family would've told me. But instead, they weighed on me like a ton of bricks, and I couldn't help but feel what Monokuma said he'd wanted: despair." In the darkness, Shinsou shook his head, his eyes clouding over.
"What hero wallows in his own grief? What hero is selfish enough to let down his friend and family's ideals, and fall into the villains' trap?"
Those words stung deep in Mashirao's mind, and he got a frightening, powerful sense of Deja vu. He shook it off and reached out a hand to place on Hitoshi's shoulder.
"Everyone's feeling the same as you right now," Mashirao soothed. "Some are able to trick themselves into thinking it's alright, so they hide the grief better. Nobody has really moved past Tenya's death. It's alright. You're not weak. We'll all be here for you, too. Nobody else will die."
Hitoshi's eyes glistened, and under the shadows that shrouded him, he seemed to shudder. He sighed, his expression softening. "Thanks, Mashirao."
Mashirao would never admit the bubbly satisfaction he felt at Hitoshi saying his name with genuine warmth in his voice.
"It's nothing," he forced himself to say. "Do you want to stay a bit longer or go back to your room?"
"I can stay, if you don't mind."
"It's fine."
Maybe everything will be alright after all.