Author's Note: You can find the up-to-date story over on spacebattles.

My Bloody Academia

"I thought I'd find you here."

Yagi Toshinori had questions, not simply for himself, but concerning Aizawa's appearance as the latter shuffled through the door to the teacher's prep room. A door far enough away from the general staging area that the chances of a student taking a wrong turn and stumbling upon his true form were slim to none. The other teachers hadn't returned, either due to writing their initial evaluations or other reasons he couldn't quite remember. He was alone. Which was good and bad. Good because it provided with peace and quiet. Bad because it left him alone with his thoughts and doubts. Such as how the hell could he test Midoriya and Bakugo without holding back a considerable amount of his power.

And by considerable, he meant pretty much everything.

"Oh, hey," his disheveled appearance, made worse by the deflated costume hanging onto his skeletal features through luck, practice and careful stitching, only added to the confusion building in the prep room. Not necessarily at his upcoming evaluation. Well, that was part of the problem. A rather large part. Yet when Aizawa walked through the door, he couldn't help but notice the guy's singed clothes, torn scarf and soot-covered face with distinctive clean spots around his eyes. As if he'd stood point-blank in the middle of an explosion, "Just finishing up a few things before heading out."

Of course, he could take a hint.

Aizawa's expression, or lack thereof, suggested he didn't want to talk about what happened.

Although he had a pretty good idea it involved Todoroki and Yaoyorozu.

"Really?"

At the question, or whatever passed as a question considering Aizawa didn't seem keen on pressing the issue, Toshinori sat back in the oversized chair and sighed.

"I'd originally planned on behaving like a supervillain. You know, act as an unstoppable force. Something Midoriya and Bakugo couldn't overcome through sheer force," a lanky finger tapped against the table, "I still do…it's just…I never expected being a teacher would be so difficult," the emaciated hero's sunken eyes narrowed, "I guess it's just something I'll need to get used to," unaware that Aizawa's respect for him was reaching depths previously believed impossible, he rubbed his neck, "What brings you here?"

"Lunch."

The exhausted hero pointed towards the refrigerator.

"Right," as Aizawa committed several tasks with the energy of a singular motion – shuffling across the prep room, removing a plastic-wrapped bowl from the middle shelf of the fridge and dumping it into the microwave – Toshinori coughed, "I've been meaning to ask. It's one thing to hear the results, who passed and failed, but I haven't been able to actually watch anything. Not from this room," he mentally winced, fingers rubbing together and long-calloused skin making itself known, "How did Yaoyorozu and Todoroki do?"

Ding!

"They passed."

Using his scarf as makeshift gloves, Aizawa examined his lunch. Steam wafted from the container. A gentle wisp of white smoke carrying an unmistakable smell, "Assuming, of course, the committee accepts my field evaluation report," the first bite burnt his tongue. As did the second and third. But he couldn't muster the passion to care. This was his lunch. And he was starving, "Not that it's any of my business," the slightest twitch of his cheek implied he had seen the list of hammy villainous one-liners All Might shuffled underneath a stack of papers. Something he ignored to maintain his sanity, "But it wouldn't kill you to show your face around the students."

Toshinori grimaced, weary eyes shifting towards the high-density weights stacked in the corner of the room.

"I wish I could."

More than anything in the world, he wanted to do exactly that, not just for Midoriya, but for the rest of the students of Class 1-A and 1-B.

But since passing the torch to Midoriya, One For All's remaining embers had been fading faster and faster. He barely had fifty minutes in his muscle form. On a good day, he might be able to push an hour. Maybe seventy minutes. But he'd already wasted fifteen minutes showing off during the principal's introduction. Any unnecessary time spent as All Might risked reverting to his normal appearance in the middle of Bakugo and Midoriya's exam, "But I need to conserve my strength."

What was it Isshin once told him?

Expect the unexpected because things never quite go the way you want them?

Or something.

On the morning he'd bestowed Midoriya with the collective hopes of every previous wielder who'd inherited One For All, he'd assumed the boy's time at UA would be uneventful. A boring three years. There would be villains, of course. Criminals he wouldn't allow roam the streets. But enough time to teach Midoriya how to properly utilize One For All before the last embers faded into darkness.

But the League of Villains and the bastard controlling them from the shadows changed everything.

"Then you should probably eat something," unaware of the other hero's thoughts, Aizawa offered his lunch, "Want some?"

"Err, no thanks," Toshinori made an effort to politely refuse, but couldn't hide the nausea turning his features green, "Anyway, how are things going? Any surprises?"

"What do you call a surprise?" Aizawa asked, to no real surprise, "If you're asking if someone failed who I thought would pass, I'd say Cementoss capturing Ida and Sato counts."

"I heard about that," the seemingly starved symbol of peace's sunken eyes settled into a frown, "I never expected someone like Ida to fail."

"It's complicated," halfway through his lunch, Aizawa finished chewing before answering, "Ida was well on his way towards the escape gate when Cementoss managed to ensnare his teammate. He could've kept going. There was nothing stopping him. If he'd simply walked through the gate, he and Sato would've both passed. Instead, he turned around and briefly managed to free Sato before they both were captured," he took another bite, "He's taking his loss in stride, though. Sure, he's upset, but Ida firmly believes he made the right choice."

"Can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing," Toshinori nodded, "Any other surprises?"

"Ashido and Kaminari also failed."

Toshinori didn't need an explanation for that, "The principal certainly doesn't do things half-measured," he grimaced. One of the smartest minds on the planet against two first-year students struggling to maintain a decent grade point average. Still, knowledge and intelligence, which explained Nezu requesting Ground Gamma as the site of the exam, "He must've enjoyed toying with them."

He looked at the clock on the wall.

Ten minutes since Ryuko and Kirishima's exam started.

"Well, I suppose I should get ready," bracing himself, he stood up and immediately put on another four hundred pounds of raw muscle, bulking enough that his costume formed itself to the general curvature of his physique, "It would be insulting not to arrive promptly, after all," he grabbed one of the high-density weights young Hatsume made. An additional two tons wasn't easy, but as he snapped the bracelets into place, grimacing only at how heavy they were, he smiled, "And you needn't worry. Even if I do have a soft spot towards young Midoriya, I won't pull my punches. I'll treat him as I'd treat any villain. Err, well, considering the situation, I'd treat him as I'd treat any hero if I were a vile and underhanded villain."

If he was comforted by that, Aizawa barely budged, "Why does that not reassure – "

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!

"Hold on," reaching into his scarf, he extracted a phone, "Yes?" as soon as he raised it to his ear, his voice hardened, "Wait, she did what? I see. Well, thanks for the heads up."

Beep!

"That was Recovery Girl."

A certain sense of looming annoyance clung to the erasing hero's existence, "It appears Matoi 'improved' Vlad's Blood Tempo."

"Did she now?"

Stroking his chiseled jaw with fingers large enough to pitch Aizawa's lunch, All Might's entire posture radiated bewilderment and pride. Every teacher at UA and most pros were quite aware of Blood Tempo. It was an ingenious technique. There were shortcomings, of course. Every technique had shortcomings. But for Ryuko to build upon such a difficult technique in such a short amount of time was quite the accomplishment, "Say, what's wrong? Surely this is good news! It took Vlad a couple of months to develop that move. And another year to master it!"

Aizawa would've erased All Might's Quirk if doing so wouldn't immediately and painfully crush the number one hero.

"The problem is Matoi lacks patience."

How the symbol of peace could fail to miss the point so thoroughly had to be a natural talent.

Or an aspect of his Quirk.

"Not to say she hasn't improved since the sports festival, but she's far too willing to take unnecessary risks without considering the consequences," tired eyes glared into the remains of his lunch. He couldn't deny Matoi was brilliant. Or that she'd appreciably changed since their heart-to-heart conversation. But she was still his third-most problematic student. Not because of insubordination or inability to appreciate physical boundaries, but her single-minded obsession to bring Couturier to whatever she deemed justice, "Eventually, something goes horribly wrong."

The broad smile never missing from All Might's face struggled maintaining itself, "Is she alright?"

"Don't know," Aizawa tossed the empty tubber ware into the sink, "Whatever stunt she pulled, judging from Recovery Girl's tone, she might have killed herself."

"WHAT!?"

"Relax. I'm kidding," he might have gone overboard, but pulling one over the infamous symbol of peace and justice was simply too good of an opportunity to ignore, "What, you think I'd be this relaxed if one of my students were in serious trouble?" grinning a toothy smile, he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, "She's on her way back. Which means it's about time you got ready," and like that, his smile was smothered by general exhaustion, "And please try holding back. The last thing UA needs is a lawsuit because All Might crippled a student."

All Might smiled, because he needed to smile, as Aizawa left the room.

"Geez."

A hint of his normal personality bled through his public façade, "That guy seriously has a terrible sense of humor."

My Bloody Academia

She preferred punching over stabbing.

The reason wasn't complicated.

Sure, she could harden her blood into whatever she wanted. And make it sharp enough to cut through almost anything. But there was just something exhilarating about grinding her knuckles into someone's face and feeling cartilage shatter under the pressure while their perspective on being a villain painfully crashed and burned. Maybe it was her Quirk. Maybe it gave her a short temper. Or whatever. But it wasn't like she went out of her way looking for fights. Every scrap she'd had since elementary school had been someone else deciding to pick a fight. Those uptight spoiled bitches at Seiai, the bullies on the playground and that teenage moron who'd mocked her hair. If someone wanted to throw down, she was more than happy to test the limits of their convictions.

Some people thought she had an anger problem.

They could kiss her ass.

She didn't have an anger problem, she had a problem with jackasses who looked down on anyone different from them.

"BLOODY OVERDRIVE!"

Her decision to throw everything into a single punch aimed at Vlad King's face had nothing to do with any of that.

It wasn't that personal.

When she'd rolled out of bed earlier that morning, faceplanting onto the floor as a half-asleep menagerie of limbs, blankets and pillows, field testing Bloody Overdrive hadn't crossed her mind. Breakfast. Bacon, eggs, cereal and anything else she could stuff in her mouth. That was the only thing she'd cared about until leaving her apartment. Bloody Overdrive was meant to be a secret. Her ace in the hole. A move specifically designed to overpower Couturier's bullshit speed. It didn't matter how sharp her blood could get if she couldn't hit the psycho bitch. But catching the villain was only part of the problem. Figuring out how to turn off the freak's regeneration was going to take a whole lot of imagination. Or not. Because if she learned anything from her work-study, it was that hitting something hard and fast enough fixed all of life's problems.

Which meant instead of coming up with some fancy technique, she just needed to hit Couturier until her regeneration short-circuited.

"…gah!"

As her blood boiled and burned, air swooped around Ryuko's knuckles. Moisture evaporated against the heat radiating off her skin, transforming into billowing clouds gently caressing against her face. Something in her shoulder twitched, sending another burst of pain alongside the rest. Her pulse surpassed two hundred beats per minute, struggling to supply every muscle with enough oxygen. Blood splattered on the ground, gushing out of cuts and gashes spontaneously appearing everywhere on her body. Even without looking, Ryuko couldn't help but see the vermilion glow in her hair, brighter and more widespread than at any other point in her life. Through half-lidded eyed, lips pulled back into a bloodied snarl and her entire arm quivering with energy, she watched Vlad King turn around in slow motion.

He couldn't stop her.

Just a little more and he'd be down for the count.

And then she stopped.

It was a generally accepted rule that other than Quirks and their unnatural bullshit, energy couldn't be destroyed, merely transformed into something else.

So, when she stopped, all that energy had to go somewhere.

And somewhere it did go.

Pain exploded down her arm like fireworks, slamming against her fingers and wrist and elbow and shoulder. In that order. Not the pain of a broken arm. She knew that pain. This was the type of pain coming from hitting something really hard – like All Might's stupid abs – and expecting nothing. She wanted to gasp. Her body wanted to gasp. But she angrily chewed her lip and forced herself to say nothing as the rest of the energy was released into a shockwave. An unexpected shockwave. Windows on nearby houses trembled. Every tree in the neighborhood swayed. The noxious cloud of dust clinging to the ground was scattered down the street in the direction of her punch.

"Surprised?"

Her voice was raw, almost as if she'd gargled salt, "Don't tell me you actually thought I'd break your face over some half-assed insult," blood dripped from her chin. She coughed. She wheezed. Her body felt like it was on fire. And it was taking every ounce of concentration to not gloat, "Get over yourself."

Vlad King wasn't talking.

In fact, he wasn't moving.

The shockwave had not only swept his hair into an embarrassing shape, it also knocked off his stupid visor.

Click!

He didn't do anything until Kirishima snapped the handcuffs around his wrist.

"Team Kirishima and Matoi have passed the finals!"

And even then it took the teacher a moment for his mind to catch up to reality.

"Damn," holding a hand to his forehead, as soon as the announcer declared the exam over, Kirishima stared down the street, "You pulled an All Might."

Something in the deepest, darkest corner of her soul revolted.

The pain faded.

And what emerged was less of a question and more of a demand for clarification, "Huh?"

But her question went unanswered, because acting as though nothing happened, especially nearly getting punched into next week by a student he'd pissed to the point she'd stopped holding back, Vlad King made an effort to fix his hair. A foolish effort, but a determined effort nevertheless despite its reluctance to resume its previous shape, "Congratulations," his voice actually squeaked, which he quickly buried beneath a dramatic cough bordering on testosterone poisoning, "Far be it for me to deny credit where credit is due, the both of you displayed remarkable aptitude and tenacity. As heroes, you must know when to fight a villain or retreat and gather reinforcements. It's not an easy call. More than one hero died on the line of duty making a wrong choice. And far too many heroes perished because they overestimated their abilities and underestimated their opponents."

A wracking cough came from Matoi.

But whether it was from the strain of pushing her Quirk to the breaking point or annoyance, Sekijiro didn't know.

"Which is why I must also apologize," it was the mark of a good hero to accept one's faults and to admit when they'd made a mistake, "Some of the things I said were completely out of line. In my attempt to motivate you into doing the best you could, I crossed a line. And for that, I'm sorry."

"Whatevs."

Ryuko glanced away, "I knew you were screwing around," her arm felt like shit. Not broken, but sore enough that thinking about moving a finger made everything hurt, "But, ugh, it's fine, I guess."

She was tired.

She was exhausted.

And she was starving.

"Not so fast."

It was annoying how he knew what she was going to do before her body even moved. She'd barely turned around, facing the general direction of the escape gate, when Vlad had the courtesy of grabbing her good shoulder, "We need to talk."

"…I'm fine."

"Oh, really?" the older hero's eyes narrowed, "Then try pulling away. If you can do that, I'll drop the subject."

She didn't.

She couldn't.

And that was enough proof for him to keep talking, "I thought so – you're moving too quickly, Matoi. You're rushing your training. It takes time to properly learn a move. A week just isn't enough time to learn something as complicated and delicate as Blood Tempo. You need to slow down. I know you're motivated…" motivated was an understatement, "…but you need to practice the basics before diving headfirst into the deep end. Do you believe All Might became as strong as he is by stumbling upon a powerful Quirk?"

Ryuko failed to shrug her way out of Vlad King's grasp.

"You ain't making the point you're trying to make."

Which was both the right and wrong thing to say.

"Assuming you pass this exam, Matoi, don't expect summer training to be a walk in the park," there was no assumption involved. She had passed. And his feelings aside, she'd pushed herself beyond her limits," I might not train you, but someone will ensure you master the basics until your eyes bleed!"

When he finally let go, she pretended like she could have escaped whenever she wanted, "Whatever. Are you finished? I have – "

Her stomach suddenly turned upside-down.

Something bubbled her throat.

And with only the briefest of warnings, Ryuko keeled over and hurled a rainbow onto the ground.

"You have nobody to blame other than yourself, Matoi," while Kirishima turned around before getting a full view of her half-digested lunch, Vlad King scoffed. The blood hero reached down, carefully picking up his visor and brushing dirt off the orange lenses, "Instead of training your body until it was properly acclimated to the strain, you pushed yourself too hard and too fast. This is the consequence of skipping the basics."

Ryuko would have given him the finger, but the moment she thought it was over, another rainbow exploded from her mouth.

She hated him.

She really, truly hated him.