The_0bservanc3: It's time for the fifth special everyone! As always this does not count toward the 1:1 update schedule we try to keep.
Magnus: Time to explore another side story, and this time it's a fan favorite! For those who still think I just bashed Shouto for no reason, please understand that I base all interactions on a more human response. Izuku is not a perfect bastion of goodness and selflessness. He had his own issues, his own scars, and his own reasons to take a more aggressive stance.
The 0bservanc3: As always, a special thank you to all of our Patrons, your support means the world. Thank you to those currently named Lyruil, Zenega, AllAboutNothin, Nathan Hurley, Henry Baumeister, tyler clifton, EposTheta, Killerking, LeafBladeFox, prured, Carrotglace, walter killoran, Mecharic, Soltarian, vividfoal817915, ATJK, Bobthenerd, Dragonin, kalestrife3329, Lord Nairvehlius, Lord Sunshine, Soul D Phoenix, Voidkat, Naes003, and The GreatBubbaJ.
Disclaimer: Please be patient with the updates, I can't place as much effort on writing as I could in the beginning.
Cursed Blood
Chapter 35.5 – A Sinister Special V
Lady Luck's Smile – For Lyruil
Shouto Todoroki sat at the far edge of a crowded public plaza, exasperated beyond measure with the situation he was currently being made to suffer through.
Two months. If he could survive two more months, he'd be enrolled at UA. While it was true him graduating from the esteemed Hero school was just another part of the Bastard's plan to turn him into a weapon capable of dethroning All Might and cementing his own place in history by proxy, the dual-haired teen truly did desire to attend the famous heroic academy.
It was all part of his own plan. He'd rise to prominence while showing the world his mother's magnificent blessing. And he'd leave the Bastard's curse to rot in his shadow while doing it.
"Bastard… should've known he'd find a way to steal one more thing from me…" Shouto hissed, seething as he sat alone at his bench. "Now that I'm being forced to take the Recommendation Exam instead of the regular one, I'll just have to find some other way to begin proclaiming the power of Mother's blessing to the masses."
Shouto's lifelong torture, what others would ignorantly call training, had always mainly focused on the physical side of things. He knew without a doubt he could muscle through most obstacles with little trouble thanks to the Bastard's obsession with power. But that had never been enough for him. He'd studied diligently, in secret, to ace UA's infamous Written Exam as well.
It had all always been a simple plan. He'd ace both the Written and Practical Exams, entirely on his own, with only his mother's blessing, and show he had everything it took to be a hero without his curse.
But then the Bastard had declared he'd be entering UA through recommendation.
HIS recommendation.
"I don't need his help…" Shouto muttered, ignoring the world around him to stew in his slowly building frustration and anger. "I don't need him, his recommendation, or his curse!"
Even worse than being denied the chance to prove his conviction through rightful effort had been the smug and utterly condescending grin the Bastard had sported when he'd delivered the news of his recommended status. As if anything and everything done in the name of pushing Shouto toward the goal of surpassing All Might was doing him an incomparable favor.
"That's right, I'm Endeavor, the Number Two Hero, and this is my favorite…"
The voice of the Bastard rose over the noise of the crowded plaza, boosted by specially tuned mics. The sound alone fed the ravenous fires of rebellion that burned hotly in Shouto's heart. They were the only flames he'd ever allow himself to light.
That and those of his hatred. He hated that he had no voice, no vote in how his life was run. He hadn't been allowed to reject the recommendation, hadn't lived together with his siblings in years, hadn't been allowed to develop his own style of combat…
Hadn't ever been able to even speak of visiting his mother.
The heterochromatic teen clenched his teeth. HIS life? With not even a modicum of freedom or agency, was it really even his life, or an extension of the Bastard's? Even when he had no reason to be at the stupid outing the Bastard had arranged with today's advertisement sponsor, hadn't cared to know who or what it was about, he hadn't been allowed to pass on attending.
He didn't even know where he was right now. Where they in Tokyo? Kyoto?
"WAIT MISTER BALLOON!"
The sudden girlish scream caught Shouto's attention by virtue of being a fair excuse to cease paying any level of faux attention to the Bastard's antics in front of the camera crews.
"DON'T GO! STOP!"
Eyes darting around, Shouto finally caught sight of the owner of the screaming voice. It was a girl, around his age, with long dark-pink hair tied into four tails and the rest cascading down to around her mid-back. She had clear, sky-blue eyes that would've likely been nice to look at had they not currently been filled with panic.
Remaining in his seat at the bench, Shouto decided focusing on the girl would be better than wasting another moment on the Bastard, and began to analyze this new situation.
"MISTER BALLOON!"
Quite obviously, the girl was chasing after the bluish balloon that was floating away from her. Each time she almost grabbed its trailing cord, the girl tripped or slipped on something however, leading Shouto to believe she was inherently clumsy. Then the heterochromatic teen saw a small child running after the pink-haired girl, and more of the story revealed itself.
He could see that the child was crying as they ran, grasping with empty hands at the air. Shouto connected the dots easily enough and realized the older girl was trying to do a good deed by recovering the balloon that the child had most likely lost somehow.
"It would've been easier to just buy a new one," Shouto muttered, eyeing the situation from his spot. "And the kid should've had the cord tied around their wrist anyway…"
Watching as the girl and child ran in circles trying to catch their lost prize, Shouto entertained possible scenarios that would solve the rather pointless conundrum before him.
"UGH!" Instead of tripping, the pink-haired girl's latest misfortune had her run into a lamppost of all things.
Using his mother's gift, Shouto calculated that he could easily cool down the air inside the balloon, causing it to slowly drop to the ground or at least arm's reach.
"ALMOST!" The pink-haired girl dived, missing the balloon by a finger length before ramming headfirst into a line of bushes.
If he wanted to go extreme, really Plus Ultra, Shouto supposed he could also create an ice dome around the balloon. It would ensure the balloon couldn't escape, but it would be such a waste of energy for such a pointless… damn, now he was thinking like the Bastard…
"ONEE-CHAN STOP! DON'T!"
The sudden high-pitched scream from the child snapped Shouto back to the present. It took him a split second to take in the scene and realize what had happened.
The pink-haired girl, still covered in bits of vegetation, had chased the balloon once again… right into the street.
"Gotcha!" The girl shouted, triumph coloring her cheeks as she grinned widely when her hands finally snared the balloon's cord. She blinked, seemingly realizing she'd lost track of where she was during the hunt. Turning slightly, she looked to the side…
…just as a truck came barreling down the road straight for her.
HOOOOOOOOONK!
The pink-haired girl squeezed her eyes shut.
It happened too fast for most to see.
HOOOOOOOOONK!
"AAAAAAAAAAHHH!"
SSSSSHHHHHHRRRRRIIIIIKKKKK!
There was an immense explosion of cold.
CRASH-BANG!
It took a moment, but the pink-haired girl opened her eyes.
The truck had hit… a giant ice wall?!
She was alive?!
As the girl slid to the ground in shock, the bystanders began to gather, attracted by the averted tragedy. Many had watched the young girl as she'd chased the balloon around, amused at her haplessness, but none there could understand the actions of the truck driver. The large vehicle hadn't even tried to stop, let alone slow down or change course! As more and more people talked about such suspicious behavior, the murmurings grew in volume.
"Are you alright?" Shouto asked, staring not at the girl he'd saved but at the truck he'd just totaled. He wasn't overly concerned for the stranger's health, the question coming as more of a reflex than anything.
Hero Etiquette was a thing in the world after all. And while his lessons in it hadn't been as harsh as his physical trainings, the heterochromatic teen still fell back on them when he didn't really know how to proceed in a situation.
The clumsy pink-haired girl sat up, teary eyed and red faced, but said nothing. That was enough response for Shouto though, and he moved toward the truck, intent on questioning the driver who'd almost killed someone, accident or not.
Unfortunately, when he rounded the vehicle to the driver's side, the Bastard had already appeared, holding the driver up by the collar of his shirt.
"I swear!" The man shouted in a panic, visibly pissing himself while in the grip of the Number Two Hero. "I just closed my eyes for a second, honest! Then there was an ice wall in front of me! I couldn't do anything!"
Falling asleep while driving?
How monotonous.
The Bastard could have that case.
Making his way back to the girl, Shouto came to a stop beside her unnoticed, as she appeared mesmerized by his ice wall.
"Come on, let's go over there," Shouto said, offering a hand. The dazed girl took it thoughtlessly, shivering as their skin touched.
As the two moved back to the bench Shouto had been sitting at earlier, the heterochromatic teen began to wonder why he had suddenly gone the extra step with this girl. He didn't know this girl, nor particularly care for her health. Taking stock of the situation again, he decided it must've been because dealing with her was better than spending any more time around the Bastard.
The two took a seat, and instantly began to drown under an awkward silence.
"So…" Shouto said, trying and failing to start a conversation. It was at that moment that the Scion of the Todoroki realized he'd never struck up or held a conversation with anyone before, much less a girl he'd only just met.
How did one talk to girls?
What did he talk to Fuyumi about when they'd last spoke?
When had they last spoke?
"I'm sorry for troubling you," the girl suddenly said, breaking the uncomfortable atmosphere between the two. "Truck-kun has been trying to get me ever since I manifested my quirk. I always seem to get away somehow, but a literal wall of ice is a new one. That was you, right?"
For the heavily 'sheltered' Shouto, the idea of someone using such an honorific on a vehicle of all things was exceedingly confusing.
People were strange.
"Ah… yes," Shouto said, managing to force the words out of the quagmire that was his incredibly limited social experience. "It's a part of my mother's gift."
The heterochromatic teen had to lean back suddenly as the girl turned to gaze at him with stars in her eyes.
"You inherited your mom's quirk?" She asked, smiling widely, "That's so cool!"
For a moment, Shouto felt like he had finally advanced one step closer to his dream; to show the world the blessing that was his mother's gift; that the curse he also held was better left forgotten.
"Oh no! I forgot to introduce myself!" The girl said, bonking herself on the head in a playful manner judging by the grin she still wore. "My name is Sakura Minamoto, and my quirk is called 'Jinx!'"
From there, the conversation evolved into a mostly one-sided affair. Sakura regaled a half-listening Shouto about her quirk's unpredictability and the messes it always created due to the field of affected probability she projected because of it. The only time the girl ever lost her smile was when she brought up the misfortunes others had suffered due to 'Jinx.'
Worse, the quirk wasn't entirely controllable by the sound of it. Sakura complained about her inability to activate it at will as well. 'Jinx' fired off whenever she felt emotional distress, which for a young teen seemed to include, but was not limited to, school exams, being yelled at, being late to literally anything, handholding, and of course, being unable to help a crying child.
To Shouto, it sounded like a powerful emitter-type quirk. It was too bad there was no apparent way to control it…
"So…" Shouto trailed off, realizing too late that trying to take control of the conversation with his level of sociability had been a bad idea, "Are you… applying to UA?"
It was a dumb question, that much even he was aware of. Who wouldn't apply to UA if given half a chance? Thankfully, the giggling from next to him eased the heterochromatic teen's nerves a little bit.
"No way!" Sakura replied, smiling good-naturedly, "Only the best and brightest go for UA. And the most heroic."
That was true, Shouto realized. UA was the best hero academy of Japan and, unless something changed by the time the next international scholastic rankings came out this year, the eastern hemisphere as well. While everyone of age might WANT to apply to UA, only those strong and brave enough to seriously attempt to do so.
"No, I'm aiming for an arts school instead," Sakura continued, the pinkette calmly smiling as she imagined all the different places she wanted to try enrolling to. "Singing and dancing are the things I enjoy doing the most. I really think, if I work hard enough, if I give it my very best, maybe, just maybe, I might even be able to reach the status of idol someday."
As his newest… acquaintance?... revealed her dream, sparkling eyes and all, Shouto couldn't help but think to himself that this was the dumbest idea the pinkette could have ever entertained. If her quirk really activated without warning whenever she underwent emotional duress, then there was no way it wouldn't activate whenever she went on stage, especially if she was aiming to become an idol.
With a slowly building rambling going on beside him, Shouto thought of the ways to assemble an explanation regarding the irrationality and impossibility of his acquaintance's dream. Surely he could think of something better for her to do, something that would minimize the destruction her quirk could accidently cause? Maybe gardening?
"SHOUTO!"
The sudden shout cut through the heterochromatic teen's thoughts as easily as it stopped the rambling of the girl sitting next to him. Endeavor, most likely now finished with the driver of the truck, had finally deigned to go find his weapon.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?" The Number Two Hero asked as he approached, flames already roaring to a degree his words had to be shouted. "And who the hell is that… person… next to you supposed to be?"
Both teens panicked.
As much as Shouto loathed the Bastard with every fiber of his being, as much as he truly and wholly desired to pay him back for every painful beating he'd ever received, years of physical abuse at the hands of the man before him instantly set his survival instincts into 'go-mode' as it were. No one knew just how dangerous the Flame Hero really was better than him after all.
All Sakura could do was let out an adorable yelp, close her eyes, and cover her head with her hands in the feeble hope that such a weak move would be enough to protect her from harm. She didn't know why the Number Two Hero was here, or why he was so mad, but she did know her previous happiness had taken a sharp turn to outright terror.
Then, the most baffling thing Shouto ever witness occurred right before his dual-colored eyes.
Like out of a skit of a bad comedy, Endeavor, the Bastard himself… slipped on a banana peel.
While the impossibility of finding such trash in a public plaza in one of Japan's nicer districts was already grounds for calling out some sort of black magic fuckery, watching the massive dumpster fire of a man fall backwards the entire way to the ground and hit his head on the concrete hard enough for his flames to go out was enough of a shock to ignore that fact.
"So… when you say your quirk brings misfortune…" Shouto mumbled, failing to contain the small grin forcing its way onto his face.
"Eh?" Sakura opened her eyes, taking only a second to realize the weirdness of the situation was a clear sign her quirk had fired off again without her permission. "Oh no! I'm so sorry!"
Once more, the bystanders who'd been watching the scene unfold from the safety of the sidelines began to descend on the pair of teens. This was even more suspicious to the gathering public than a truck driver supposedly falling asleep at the wheel and almost killing a girl!
"Don't be sorry," Shouto interrupted the panicking girl beside him. He had enjoyed one example of her quirk, sure, but he didn't want to risk 'Jinx' going off again if he could help it. "I'm not, and it wasn't your fault anyway."
"SSSHHHOOOOUTOOO!"
The Bastard was already getting back to his feet. And if the size and heat of his flames were any indication, he was positively enraged.
Well shit.
"Let's go!" Shouto hissed suddenly, taking Sakura by the hand. The abrupt action caused the pinkette to begin panicking again.
For a split second, the fleeing Scion of the Todoroki looked back as he retreated, freely letting his grin blossom this time as the Bastard managed to slip on the same banana peel for a second time.
He knew he was going to be receiving quite the beating when he eventually returned to the Bastard's home, his prison, but for once, he would openly admit that all of this was entirely worth it.
Who knew that helping a complete stranger with crazy dreams could be so gratifying?
Magnus: I'm not sorry for the references used, so I won't ask for forgiveness. Deal with it.
Omake – The Fall from Glory.
Takeo Gō, once the proud scientific genius known as Nanoman, worked diligently at completing his newest duties, even as he loathed them. Or rather, even as he loathed them taking his time so that he couldn't focus on his true, more important goal.
"Starting test... now. Sample number, three," the giant of a man said in monotone as he began to write on the empty lab paper next to him. "Running blank concurrently for comparison…"
Minutes ago, the once renounced scientist had gotten his hands on samples from one Kyouka Jiro. It had been a surprise miracle, and while the near death experience of a UA student would always give him pause, the mountainous man would gladly accept such an occurrence happening again if it brought him something he'd been aching desperately for.
Another chance to study 'Cursed Blood.' The quirk may have brought his baby back to life, but it had also enchained his dear Masao to the Midoriya brat. And that was unforgivable.
"Good, good," Recovery Girl replied absentmindedly, sucking on one of her gummy bear treats, "It's always best to ensure everything is well."
From his place beside the lab's equipment, Takeo eyed his beloved sensei with sorrow.
He hadn't wanted to admit it, to face reality, but there was no ignoring the truth now. The elderly nurse, the so-called "Backbone of UA," had long been succumbing to her old age. In silence, alone, she'd slowly gone senile until her addled mind rebelled and ultimately betrayed her true nature, morals, and ethics.
Discovering a quirk anomaly such as 'Cursed Blood' probably hadn't helped, or was perhaps the infamous straw to the camel's back as the Americans would say. The green brat had fired all of the wrong neurons with his old teacher, bringing out the worst, ugliest parts of scientific potential in Chiyo. Every interaction with him afterwards had only worsened the degradation of her psyche as well, soon leading to the sorry state of the once implacable Recovery Girl.
If Takeo was honest with himself, which he refused to be when it came to the monster keeping his little Masao in servitude, the Midoriya brat hadn't had any way of knowing his existence would cause the downfall of such an important figure. Anything could have set Chiyo off as her dementia had gotten worse. Eventually there would've been another straw, it would've been inevitable.
"Sensei, don't forget to take your nap," Takeo said suddenly, taking just a moment from his observation to glance at the elderly heroine. "The doctor said to not overwork yourself, remember?"
The mountain man blamed what was happening to his beloved sensei now on the so-called doctor who'd ultimately diagnosed her after their discussion with Nezu.
The overly-inflated 'legendary' Heaven Canceller should've chosen a better way to deal with Recovery Girl's malady. One such as him should've had some obscure treatment, or unheard-of drug that could've helped her. The man was a known across the world for quirks' sake!
Instead, the fraud had settled on giving Chiyo Shuzenji, his sensei and the best real Healer Japan had ever had, drug-laced candies. The medicine kept her calm and focused, but at the price of dulling the intrepid heroine's sense of discovery and experimentation. It had turned Recovery Girl into a… a…
… Caring grandmother whose only driving interest was tending to the injuries of her patients.
"Sure, sure…" Chiyo harrumphed in reply, "I'll just do a round to see my current patients before going to my office. Please take care of the rest for me while I'm gone Takkun."
Perhaps this was for the best.
UA needed a Recovery Girl focused on caring, on doing her job. Long passed were the days when the academy could afford for her to indulge in wild experimentations on students, assured she could always fix any problems that arose from her work.
And in truth, Takeo needed time alone to experiment on his own. While his data on 'Cursed Blood' was minimal at best, it still provided him with invaluable insight on organic programming and cellular interaction. Of course, he still needed more information though. Right now, the current goal was discovering how the quirk-borne microoganisms bonded to their hosts to grant their ridiculous regeneration powers.
"Results of scans are as follows: hematocrit and antigen markings…" Takeo trailed off as he read over the results of from the machine beside him. "Are all… normal?"
Takeo stared at the printed results in disbelief. He blinked, and looked again, for a third time.
The blood samples from the Jiro girl were still there. Still… normal.
Impossible.
Izuku Midoriya had saved Kyouka Jiro from terrible, irreparable injury thanks to the timely use of his 'Cursed Blood' quirk. The event had been recorded, documented, and proven. With permission from the girl's parents, blood samples had been taken for a battery of tests to 'insure' that there were no lingering effects from their daughter being nearly frozen and summarily healed by a still largely unknown quirk.
Takeo had expected to find instances of the little demonic-looking microorganisms swimming about, if not in large quantities, than at least some visible trace that would indicate past occupancy. Instead, not a single cell was pinging as being out of place. Not a single parameter of the machine read any part of the girl's blood as being abnormal, alien, or otherwise anything other than all natural.
There wasn't a single piece of evidence from his samples that would say 'Cursed Blood' had ever been used on the Jiro girl.
It was as if 'Cursed Blood' had decided that it didn't want to be seen by his tests anymore.
As if it wanted to fuck with him.
"No matter…" Takeo muttered as he wrote the results on the girl's file. "One day I'll find out the truth about you, you little shits. And when I do… I'll finally free my little Masao from you and your master."
Recovery Girl may have lost her drive for experimentation, but he was far from done. On his oath to free his child, still as strong as the day he'd returned to Japan, Takeo Gō wouldn't rest until he'd unlocked the secrets of the so-called 'Cursed Blood' of Izuku Midoriya.
Omake – A Cute Little Mistake.
Izuku had never considered himself what one would call a genius. He liked to believe he was studious, sure, and that he was good at learning and picking up new information that interested him. But he'd never enjoyed it when others had praised him for his brainpower.
Unfortunately, such praise had been much more freely given since he'd entered UA for some reason.
From high praises from Momo, his class's president, to backslaps from his class's 'idiot' Kaminari, Izuku had suffered his 'unparalleled intelligence' being brought up day after day in one form or another. Eventually, he couldn't help but begin to wonder if, perhaps, his brain just worked a little bit differently from the norm.
"Boss, do we REALLY need to be here, in this class?" Saki asked, tone making it clear the blonde delinquent found the upcoming period of the school day unbearable to even think about. "I mean, I dominate the subject, Shirmpy's better than the whole class at it, and Wondergirl doesn't even need it! Hel—eck, you're better at it than the sub we've been stuck with!"
"Unfortunately," Izuku replied with obvious distaste, "Aptitude doesn't equal special treatment."
Naturally high intelligence and the ability to learn at accelerated rates sometimes brought about unintended consequences. It was bad enough that Izuku had to force himself to daydream whenever he finished written exams far earlier than his classmates, but after devouring every textbook for the Hero Course's curriculum a month ago, the verdanette had found himself faced with a most dreadful problem.
UA didn't allow students to skip their classes, especially not if they were Heroics students.
"Very well class, let's begin," A rather unkempt woman with long, wild black hair and thick-rimmed glasses wearing a simple white blouse, a black skirt, and a trench coat of all things called out, gathering 1-A's attention. "And remember, No Japanese from now until the bell!"
It wasn't the woman's fault at all, but the dreaded class she was temporarily taking over for the duration of Present Mic's suspension due to his less-than-subtle quirkist remarks during the First Years Sports Festival was the bane of existence for many of the students now under her care. The young men and women all feared the subject, for it was insanity, chaos, and bitten tongues all rolled into one.
It was… English class.
The foreign language had made a strong comeback as a world constant after the reunification of the USA. The subject had gradually made its way back into the curriculum of every school the world over, being especially mandatory for Hero Courses as the lingua franca for international heroics due to its universality before the Quirk Era and 'low difficulty' to learn.
For Izuku, the class was an absolute nightmare, but not for the same reasons as it was for his classmates.
[Midoriya-san, no daydreaming in class.] The substitute teacher was quick to throw out her now customary jab to the advanced verdanette in what Izuku knew to be highly polished English. It was almost like the heroine known as The Paper was a natural speaker of the language. [I know you believe you know enough English as it is, but there's always room for improvement.]
[Yes ma'am.] Izuku replied, failing to hide his grimace at being forced to pay attention to the monotony of the woman's lecture. [I'll pay attention.]
Normally, Present Mic wouldn't give Izuku a second look after he'd speed through the day's lesson and move on to his own work. Normally, the verdanette's close friends would give him looks of sympathy for being called out like that. Normally, those same friends weren't struggling to understand every other word their teacher said or the homework given.
It said something about the level of competence with the infernal language Paper-sensei expected them to have that even Tsu-chan, who had higher-than-average experience with English thanks to her mother's work, was struggling. The woman had clearly forgotten they were all just first years, and only variants such as Izuku himself and Momo were able to follow her rapid-fire lessons with ease.
[Okay then. Now that we're all focused, let's finish the basics before the end of the week so we can move on.] Paper-sensei began, huffing as she looked out at 1-A and realized that more than half hadn't understood much of what she'd said. [Honestly, one would expect you all to be at an intermediate level here before you'd even entered this academy. However, for some reason, many of you act as if your knowledge of English is below even basic levels. How do you expect to collaborate with foreign heroes?!]
The rant continued, masterfully poking at the wounded prides of the 1-A students. It was an old trick, but as they say, if it isn't broken, don't fix it.
[As I hope you all know, English is divided into grades, and you're all expected to be at the top level by the end of your second year… at the latest.]
Paper-sensei was relentless with her teaching, a far cry from her rather gentle demeanor outside of class.
To the likes of those such as Denki Kaminari and Hanta Sero, this wasn't such a good thing, even if they knew the extra drive would eventually aid their own learning. The two wore troubled faces, looks shared by most of their classmates, as they and many others struggled with inflection and, Glowing Baby forbid, tenses.
In the back of the classroom, Izuku knew from previous classes that Momo wasn't struggling in the slightest, understanding Paper-sensei with ease although she still took copious amounts of notes. Kyouka and Fumikage, likewise, seemed at ease, though the verdanette was sure as to where the couple's experience with the foreign language came from. Seeing Tsu-chan tense up periodically as she tried to follow along gave him concern, but hopefully he'd be able to help his girlfriend with anything she'd had trouble with after class during their 'alone time.'
Next to the young necromancer, his trio of partners was handling the monotony in their own ways. Saki had made it clear the first day Paper-sensei had walked in the door that she wouldn't be taking the class seriously. That and the fact that she wasn't technically a student were probably the only reasons the substitute hadn't wasted any time on the blonde. Tae was… well, staring off into the infinite, and no amount of calling on her by anyone save Izuku could get her to stop as long as the class was in session.
[In order to understand how far you all have to go, you need to understand how many grades you need to advance.] Paper-sensei continued, drawing Izuku back to the present from where his mind had wandered. Even after promising to pay attention the boredom had quickly driven him into his thoughts. [The grades are one to five and—]
Just as Izuku bowed his head in resignation, a small miracle occurred.
[What happened to the rest?]
The interrupting question, asked by the adorable Lily of all people, caused Paper-sensei to pause and the class as a whole to stare at the bluenette in confusion. Lily tilted her head to the side in response.
"What?" Lily asked, looking criminally cute as she frowned and stared back at all the eyes on her. Realizing she'd slipped into Japanese, the littlest zombie switched back to the required language. [One, two, and five? What happened to three and four?]
Izuku immediately caught on to what had happened, and from the sound of a slap of a hand over a mouth heard behind him, Momo had as well. Paper-sensei had opted to use 'to' instead of 'through' when attempting to describe the levels of English competency. As it was better than his brain-killing boredom, the verdanette decided to let the substitute deal with situation she'd caused.
The rest of the students were struggling at the scene in their own ways. As Izuku had guessed, Momo was covering her mouth to stifle a squeal. Tsuyu's cheeks had inflated, which only her friends knew was a sign of her silencing her own laughter. Kyouka was sniggering so quietly only she could hear herself. Fumikage was motionless, but the hand over his stomach made it clear to anyone watching the edgy teen that he was keeping his quirk from busting out to laugh for the both of them.
Then Uraraka snorted, and that set off many other giggles and chortling.
[What? Did Lily mess up?] Lily asked, innocent eyes glancing with growing distress between the numerous members of UA as they either failed or succeeded in containing their laughter. [No… Lily couldn't have messed up… could she?]
Paper-sensei blinked, a hand that had shot into her trench coat pocket at Lily's question coming out to scratch at her messy hair. The woman's eyes widened as she finally realized where the confusion had come from and, unused to censoring herself around students, she snorted as well.
The class of 1-A devolved fully into good-natured laughter and squeals of adoration for the antics of the little undead idol. Those closest to Lily gave the littlest zombie innumerable head-pats, which went far in making the bluenette feel better about the faux pas she'd accidently made.
As the class eventually got ahold of itself, many shared the same thought.
Lily really did make things better. Much, MUCH better.