to each his own (danger is sweet)
Chapter Summary
John's first week of school was simple until it wasn't. (And quite frankly, he's not even surprised anymore.)
AKA: USJ Part 1
Chapter Notes
CW: Canon violence and John Wick
uhhhhhh hi. as you can see, I am not dead ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
life got me occupied. got writer's block. got in a lot of mental slumps that kinda de- motivated me to continue editing this chapter. y'know, the usual Writer Tingz lol
but good news, I finally graduated high school and started my college journey! (nearly got lost on campus bc it was so frickin huge but I managed!) and the John Wick 4 teaser trailer was released so I was motivated enough to finish this finally so here ya go! an 11k word beast!
(also this fic reached 2000 bookmarks and 100k hits wtf how did that happen WHERE DO YOU KEEP COMING FROM *points nerf gun at yall, hand shaking*-)
here's a little refresher:
all might helped train john n bakugou for the entrance exam, john's in UA, he kicked bakugo's ass in the battle trial at the expense of getting some Reincarnation Flashbacks, and everyone in class 1a is cool w him being quirkless bc he looked so badass. oh, and shinsou's last name in this fic is "aiyama" which is a mix of both of his in-fic dads' surnames. I hope that covers everything.
enjoy the canon divergences~
See the end of the chapter for more notes
John Wick sits at the bar alone.
He finished his mission just a while ago (who did he kill?), and he wants to ease off the adrenaline with a shot or two of bourbon. It's a typical night even though he knows he has school tomorrow.
"You working again, Mr. Wick?"
Charon works behind the bar, face impassive as ever. John can't recognize the bottles behind the lobby counter. He sees suitcases, though; they're all labeled with bright, blocky numbers that hurt his eyes.
"I don't know."
He usually knows. He usually has an answer. Not this time. Not again. He can't choose anymore. (He doesn't want to.)
Marcus pats him on the back when he arrives. Loud and careless (Marcus was never loud nor careless) he slams coins on the table, grabbing attention when he shouldn't. John couldn't do anything but watch the color drain from his old friend's face. But Marcus laughs airily and walks away.
Did Marcus fail? Or did he make a mistake? John isn't able to ask. An invisible hand pushes against his face to stay where it should be so he wouldn't look at Marcus. John didn't get to say a proper goodbye.
"You're worrying too much."
Hitoshi works behind the bar now, clad in a suit that doesn't suit his body. Seeing it makes John want to burn it in a building somewhere. He thinks of his house—his and Helen's. It got burned down by selfishness, greed, and power from monsters bigger and crueler than humans.
Hitoshi pours him a drink. The bourbon comes out as tar rather than honey, overflowing in his shot glass. "You didn't fail."
John did fail. He failed in too many things that mattered. He couldn't save Daisy. He couldn't protect his house. He couldn't even keep what little peace he had in his short-lived retirement.
Because, in the end, he was useless.
He blinks.
He finds himself standing alone in the classroom (has it always been this big?). The desks have been pushed away against the walls, leaving a spotlight in the center, and the Director never smiles at him when he steps forward into the light, disobeying her orders to stay in the shadows, Jardani.
"You deem yourself a saint." Her voice is so different from what he remembered. It sounds so gruff and tired. Like she's a jaded traveler with sins to confess. "You'll never change."
When Viggo sings an old Russian folk song into the classroom fireplace, John leaves, his legs seemingly pushing against sludge as he walks past the shadowed, faceless figures that judge him. Sitting on a stool like a throne beside the doorway, the Bowery King holds his messenger bird in a vice grip and cackles at John, mocking him 'til his last breath.
The hallway of the Battle Trial building would have been pitch black if not for the glaring exit sign above, illuminating everything in green and blue and making the shadows appear sharper and darker. Katsuki stands in the distance, blending with the dark in his middle school uniform. Santino is there with him, sitting on his lavish chair, sipping blood-red wine. Their voices muffle and clash as they stare at a painting of a ghostly man, cluttered with spider lilies growing in every open, gnawing wound. He feels like there's a message somewhere but he can't understand it.
His house suddenly feels too small and vulnerable. The dog continues to sleep in the living room, content with being nameless, content with being John's company. (where had he last left him? alone and starving, or in the company of people willing to feed him?)
Katsuki takes his time charging up his gauntlet, aiming it at Santino's head. (Don't do it, you're
making a mistake, you'll ruin your life, they'll come after you, you'll die—)
John needs to get Helen's picture quickly or it will burn like everything else. He doesn't make it in time.
He's too late to stop the fires from building up and up and up, until they turned his haven into a funeral pyre, swallowing every memory he had until they were gone, reduced to ashes. John can only watch as faceless dolls dance in the light from the other side of the window. (he thinks he sees Tsukauchi and his classmates there, celebrating the death of a villain who thought he'd live his life differently.)
He closes his eyes, wanting to believe that this would go away if he stops looking. (They don't go away. They never go away, only hiding, only waiting.)
"You shouldn't have come back, Jonathan."
Near the edge of the empty Dagobah beach, Winston sits on a lone bench beside Yagi, a glass of wine in hand. Winston's wrinkles stand out starkly in the setting sun and Yagi appears even more like a decaying corpse, bony hands clutching tufts of brittle blond hair that might have been the hero's. (Yagi looks so frail, wasting away by the minute behind his toothy smile with nobody knowing it.)
"Have a drink and relax, for now."
Winston said that to him one lifetime ago, when John paved the bloody warpath to Iosef with bodies and bullet shells. Winston is dead now; he had his drink and relaxed.
John can't remember when he started walking down the beach, passing by human remains, golden coins, severed hands, and tattered notebooks. But he continues forward anyway, giving a sickly woman (was it John Wick's Helen or Midoriya Izuku's mother?) one last hug on the way to the shoreline before the red ocean meets his chin.
He doesn't fight it when the waves reach out, dragging him down to its depths.
He doesn't resist when the blood he spilled invades his body, and phantom hands wrap around his neck—
As with most aftermaths of his dreams, John remains quiet, even when he's breathing heavily through his nose and his heart thuds too heavily in his chest, sweat drenching his skin.
A cold and clammy hand reaches over, turning off his alarm the second it rings, and John stares at the ceiling, absently counting the minutes he has before he has to prepare for school.
On days like this, back when he had been John Wick instead of Midoriya Izuku, he would loop a gentle arm over the sleeping figure of his late wife, comforted immediately by her presence, and soon lulled back to sleep. His head wouldn't be plagued by gunfire and lifeless eyes because he had a reminder he was no longer at that place.
But Helen isn't here to comb her fingers through his hair and hold him close anymore. John only has his mother, Inko. He loves his mother, so much that it still feels unreal to him sometimes, but he'd rather not disturb her peace of mind and well-deserved rest from working so late just because he had... A strange dream. That's what they were; dreams. Strange dreams happen to everyone.
Today is just another one of those days when he's not as active in conversation with Mom at breakfast, only ever answering with soft hums and nods of his head, but she doesn't push nor prod
nor judge. She simply pecks his cheek with a gentle 'good morning' as she slides a plate of omurice in front of him, and John is thankful that Midoriya Izuku has a mother like this.
(Before leaving, he ponders what gift he should get for Mom on her birthday.)
~
If there's one reason why Hitoshi wants to be an Underground Hero, it's the spectacle right up ahead. (He should've gone with his dads this morning and tried to convince Midoriya and Bakugou to come with him, even if it cost him his plans of finally introducing them to his folks later on in the school year.)
A bunch of reporters block the entrance gate of UA with cameras and microphones out, frothing at the mouth for any crumbs of All Might. How these vultures managed to sniff out the expensive cologne of the Number One Hero and trace it back to UA is beyond Hitoshi's understanding. It must be some kind of side-effect of being around media drama that gives them the power to unearth All Might's location and status as a new teacher from who-knows-where.
Honestly, a part of Hitoshi feels bad that All Might has to deal with this type of nonsense every day and not implode.
"Okay, I know All Might's popular and all but this is getting ridiculous," Hitoshi deadpans, trying to think of awesome ways to get around the reporters and into campus like some kind of ninja but resolves to just watch this circus fest happen before his eyes and wait until something weird happens. (Preferably a gallon or two of pink paint drenching them down to their expensive shoes but Hitoshi can dream.)
"No shit," Bakugou grumbles in reply. Midoriya doesn't comment, only looking as annoyed as a placid guy could look.
Beyond the sea of hungry journalists and reporters stand his dads — or, in this case, Aizawa-sensei and Present Mic. They're trying to steer the media leeches away with as much patience and civility as they can, but even Hitoshi's not blind to how Aizawa is losing every thread of patience within him. Hitoshi sends the man his thoughts and prayers.
When Hitoshi looks further, he spots several other students getting bombarded with questions, mostly about All Might. Among them, Uraraka, the guy with the electric Quirk, and Iida are interviewed against their will, with Iida somehow handling it far better than the other two. The guy's particular brand of enthusiasm, though, seems to drive the awkward reporters away, giving other students a chance to head inside. Awesome.
"Ugh, enough of this shit, let's just ignore those nosy fuckers and get in," Bakugou decides because —and Hitoshi is a thousand percent sure on this—he doesn't want his perfect attendance streak to break this early into the year. For a guy with a personality of a honey badger, he sure is a stickler for a good record.
"And if we get mics and cameras shoved in our faces?" Hitoshi raises an amused brow. "Are you gonna scare them away with your ugly mug or what?" Just imagining Bakugou scaring the shit out of the reporters with his face alone is enough to make him snicker. The blond urchin is undoubtedly a guy with many talents.
"Oh, I'll show 'em an ugly mug if they even so much as try to fucking hold me up."
"Try not to do it so much that it would change the trajectory of their lives, pal."
"Fucking whatever, Hypno. Oi, Deku, let's— okay, what the hell?!"
At the sudden shout of anger-flavored exasperation, Hitoshi discovers alongside Bakugou that, yes, Midoriya is not with them. Rather, he's already cutting through the unwanted crowd of TV vultures like a graceful leaf in the river of sweaty bodies, going with the flow all slick and effortless. And he hasn't been mobbed by a news reporter yet which is already a feat on its own.
"How in the fuck does he do that," he hears Bakugou mutter incredulously and Hitoshi snorts. Perhaps even childhood friends don't know everything about their silent and mysterious bestie who somehow knows how to dislocate an arm in nine different places.
"Beats me," Hitoshi shrugs. "Midoriya's always a mystery. Anyway, c'mon, Iida cleared a path."
Bakugou continues to grumble throughout the way while Hitoshi just rolls his eyes. Drama queen. At least they aren't late, otherwise, Bakugou would throw an even bigger fit and Midoriya would be forced to use the signature Eyes of Disciplinary Energy (which is pretty much just Midoriya's default expression except it feels like you're being stared down by a disappointed mother. Hitoshi's caught a glimpse of that look multiple times to know that it also feels like getting doused in lava made of ice and needles.)
Speaking of Midoriya, they catch up to him (not without Bakugou aiming a flying kick at the boy's back for leaving them to the sharks and Midoriya expertly dodges) and Hitoshi decides to put that whole news media fiasco out of his mind. Sure, he'll have to deal with them at some point in his future career as a Pro, but that's not for another two or three years. Right now, he has school to focus on, and that takes a lot more mental power on his part to survive.
Fingers crossed, this week will bring much better happenings.
~
Further away from the crowd of hungry journalists, two figures watch intently, waiting for the right moment to give the iron fortress that is UA a little shake to its foundations, starting with the front door.
"Remember your role."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it."
~
They get the written assessments of their Battle Trials from Aizawa, looking as exhausted as he was on their first day, which John is beginning to find a common sight of now. Although, the man looks particularly unimpressed as he holds up the papers for the class to see.
"I received your evaluations for All Might's Battle Trials yesterday," Aizawa says and John notes the minute twitch of the man's brow when he mentions All Might and the trials. "Remember, these are to give you insight on what you did right and what you need to improve on, so make sure to consider them carefully."
The bold red number of a perfect score stands out on the corner of his paper. Below is what John assumes is the written review of his performance, but it comes across as more of a commentary from someone who isn't a seasoned teacher, sprinkled with flowery words of encouragement and high praise that only All Might could type in. It's almost a ridiculous thing to read, but John figures it's because he was used to much harsher criticisms before.
Considering the grading system for this is a shared one between pairs, John can assume that Yaoyorozu also has the same score. She deserves it.
Behind him, Hitoshi taps his shoulder. "What score did you get?"
Wordlessly, John reveals his paper, and Hitoshi whistles, "Damn, alright then, Mr. Perfection. Way to beat Blasty at his own game."
"I hear you talking shit about me, Eyebags, and you're gonna get your ass kicked later," Katsuki grumbles, shooting the other teen a stink eye. John leaves them to their usual bickering while keeping an ear out for any violent reaction. It'll be bothersome at best if the two of them get in trouble on their first week of school and annoying at worst if they somehow drag him into it.
"Alright, now that that's over with," Aizawa regains their attention, and instantly, his aura changes. "Time for the serious stuff to happen."
The class seems to sense an impending doom in the air, stiffening in their seats, although John suspects that whatever their teacher has planned isn't as bad as everyone seems to expect. John could be wrong.
"You're gonna be choosing your class representatives."
Or he could be right.
Around him, the class jumps into an uproar, primarily eager to receive the title and responsibility of Class Rep. John has a slight suspicion that Katsuki wants in on it even though he never expressed any interest in the position back in middle school. Somewhere amongst the noise, Iida suggests they do a voting system, and Aizawa clocks out from there in his yellow sleeping bag, no further instructions other than a gruff, "Make it quick."
The process is simple enough. They write who they're voting for on a slip of paper and Iida, the self-appointed teller for this class election, counts them out. John probably must have blocked out the noise too long while updating his Quirk analysis notebook after writing down his vote and submitting it because he eventually notices a particular shift in the atmosphere the second the talking stops.
John raises his eyes to the board.
Katsuki, Hitoshi, and Uraraka have one vote each. Iida has two votes while Yaoyorozu has three, and John has...
Five votes for class representative. Huh. That's more for him than the rest of the names jotted there.
"Oi, who the fuck voted for Deku?!"
"Don't act as if you didn't vote for him too, bleached porcupine."
"Fuck off, Frankenfuck!"
"Oh, sweet, Midoriya's gonna be Class Rep!"
"As expected of one of the coolest guys in the class!"
"He totally has the right vibe for it! All cool, mysterious, and a complete badass!"
The more comments said about him being the "perfect class representative," John is less willing to take the position.
Him? A leader? He can't imagine being one, much less to a group of starry-eyed, superpowered children. He was never much of a leading man in most things. John can't think of why he's voted; he hasn't displayed any qualities of a leader as far as he knows. Although, yes, he took the lead during the Battle Trials, it was a team effort for the most part.
Besides, after taking glimpses of Iida and Yaoyorozu's sloppily hidden crestfallen expressions, he's certain that other people want to take the lead more than he does, more dedicated to guiding others and being the person they turn to, and that's fine. John isn't keen on that kind of responsibility anyway.
"Midoriya-kun," Iida gestures to him with a quick chop of his hand. "Do you—"
"No, thank you," John instantly says, glancing up before focusing on his notebook again.
"'N...No thank you?'"
"I don't want to be class representative. Pick someone else."
"I..." Iida falters in bewilderment before he adjusts his glasses. "Even so, you have the most votes, so you—"
"I pass the position of class representative to Yaoyorozu," John decides to say and pretends not to notice the confused looks Katsuki and Hitoshi are sending him, nor hear the small noise of surprise from the girl in question. The girl he voted to take the position in the first place because he's confident she'd be great at it.
Iida, almost gaping like a fish, soon gets back on track, asking Yaoyorozu if she accepts it, to which she agrees (with a hint of hesitation, oddly enough). And one thing led to another, and Iida is appointed Vice, at the expense of waking up Aizawa from his nap due to how high-spirited the squarish boy was in his impromptu speech about duties and setting an example.
A few of their classmates were audibly let down that John didn't take the job (for some reason) but everyone ultimately cheered for Yaoyorozu and Iida in their new duties, accepting them as their representatives for the school year.
Well, almost everyone.
"I voted you to be the one to wrangle all the dumbasses and for what."
"Calm your combustible tits, TNT, he already said he wasn't interested."
"I have ears, you bootleg troll doll."
"And yet you still didn't hear that he wasn't interested in being the class rep. You might wanna get that checked by a doctor."
"I am gonna punt your insomniac ass to Jupiter."
"Ever the poet, aren'tcha, Bomb Voyage."
John continues his venture to the cafeteria, debating leaving those two behind to eat somewhere else. Maybe he'll get lucky and find a secret nook or something to stay in during lunch break.
~
Yaoyorozu Momo likes to believe she's competent enough in almost everything, from playing the piano to using her Quirk.
Growing up, she's been told that she's a gifted girl with an equally talented ability, which is grounds for her to be an effective leader. Yet for all that, she can't bring herself to believe she has the makings of one. She's confident in her understanding of the molecular composition of all objects, in her combat abilities, and in her studies, but for all that, Momo can't say the same when leadership is concerned (because someone will always be more suitable than her; someone more competent, quicker, calmer, better).
But she was willing to give it a try. To lead her classmates and set a good example. Because if she's being honest with herself, she wants nothing more than to assure others that she can be relied on.
Of course, it's when she gets what she wants in a roundabout way she begins to doubt herself.
"Midoriya-san, why didn't you accept the class representative position?"
Despite the question coming out of nowhere—Momo practically interrupted his meal when she asked to sit with him and his group of friends; her mother would surely be appalled—Midoriya continues eating his lunch, nonplussed.
"I wasn't interested," he says, straight to the point yet not unkindly.
Momo gazes down at her untouched miso bowl, stewing in her thoughts. "But then, why pass it to me? Iida-san seems more capable..."
It's admittedly embarrassing airing out pieces of her insecurities like this, but Midoriya just has this air of dependability and transparency to him. While it's only been a day since they've become acquainted, Momo gets the impression that she can tell him anything and not be judged harshly.
"You too," Midoriya states as if it's a fact and it leaves Momo furrowing her brows. He sounds so certain.
"That's right, Yaoyorozu-kun!" Iida interjects with a swift chop of his hand. "Your intellect and battle prowess are just as awe-inspiring as your ability to analyze any situation quickly, so your position as class representative is very much earned!"
"I think so too, Yaoyorozu-chan!" The gravity quirk user, Uraraka Ochako, adds with a smile.
"You'd do great as Class Rep!"
Slumped over the table, Midoriya's other friend, Aiyama Hitoshi, lazily raises a hand and offers an equally lazy but sincere grin, "Yeah, what she said."
Bakugou simply grunts with a short nod.
The support is honestly a surprise. Like Midoriya, Momo had only just met these people for a day (not to mention had a Battle Trial against two of them), and yet they share their encouragement so freely with her. A little flushed from the attention, she averts her gaze and stares at her lunch tray instead.
"How are you all so sure?"—
INTRUDER ALERT, INTRUDER ALERT, ALL STUDENTS EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY—
Alarms suddenly blare, startling Momo and the other table occupants (except for Midoriya, oddly enough). On all sides of the cafeteria, students jump from their seats, voices rising in panic, and for a lack of a better term, chaos reigns with everyone plowing their way out in distress, consequently overcrowding the hallways.
Momo will forever be grateful for the calmness Midoriya emanates because she's sure that she'd be easily swept up in the panic otherwise. At Iida's insistence, they follow behind the students at a safe distance (if Momo looks carefully enough, she might find some of the older students accidentally hitting others just from their close proximities).
"What the hell," Bakugou mutters. "It's a fucking mess out here."
"No kidding," Aiyama comments, combing a hand through his unruly hair in displeasure. "Somebody's gonna get seriously hurt at this rate."
Momo swallows her nerves at the thought because she's almost certain things will escalate beyond just a few bruises.
In the ocean of teens flooding the hallway, Momo spots Kirishima and Kaminari desperately trying to calm down the students despite being jostled around. At the same moment, despite their best efforts to keep away at a safe distance, her group gets swept up in the swarm, and it gets even messier from there.
Momo's heart pounds heavily in her chest, her blood running cold from the sheer hysteria and the realization that she got separated from her group. Where were the others? Are they alright?
She didn't have time to wonder when she's been harshly bumped into by a student, making her stumble until her back hits something warm. She veers her head to see who she collided with and relief washes over her quickly.
Calm and outwardly unfazed by everything, Midoriya nods his head to the large hallway window he's pressed against, a silent cue for her to look.
The mob of reporters from this morning is storming through the school gates that should've kept them out, unequivocally causing a ruckus about All Might, while the teachers attempt to get them to leave. So that's what's setting off the alarm.
(Seeing as how the media is acting when the Number One Hero is concerned, it's no wonder her parents don't mainly like hanging around them for longer than necessary during important events.)
Momo grunts when a stray elbow hits her arm, and her mind races to find a solution to help calm everyone down. At this rate, there'll be more casualties among the student body before the teachers can escort the reporters out.
What do I do, what do I do, what do I do...
A hand stops another person from crashing into Momo, and she traces it back to the stoic face of Midoriya.
What would Midoriya do?
He thinks things through. He analyzes things, just like her, and comes up with the most viable resolution to end things quickly and efficiently. Momo nods to herself. She can't fumble like this now. She is the class representative, after all.
Curbing her hesitation, Momo scans the whole area for something that could grab everyone's attention so they'll know they aren't in danger. She thinks of creating a megaphone to make her voice louder but given the restricted space, she doubts she can even create anything without being jostled around.
"Yaoyorozu-kun! Midoriya-kun!"
Iida's voice rises above the noise, and Momo finds him and Uraraka nudging their way towards them. "Have you seen what's going on outside?"
"It's those reporters from this morning!" Uraraka adds, frazzled.
"We must inform the rest of the students! Tell them there's nothing to worry about!"
Momo wholeheartedly agrees but what else can they do? What other options are available? Once more, she scours for a solution, half-baked plans forming in her head until she spots the green sign above the corridor's entryway. It's high enough that everyone can see it and wide enough that anyone could stand on it and yell that everything is alright.
Instantly, an idea hits.
"Iida-san!" The boy calls to attention quickly. "Can get up to that exit sign and shout as loud as you can about what's happening? I'm certain your voice will carry over for all the students to hear!"
Iida blinks in surprise before he finds the sign above, later nodding his head, determined. "Understood! Uraraka-kun, could you use your Quirk on me? I'll handle the rest!"
Although confused, Uraraka does as she was asked, and Iida, as promised, handles the rest. With a burst of his engine Quirk, he makes it to the top of the exit sign with a slam, and with a big breath of air, he grabs the students' attention with what he saw outside the window. He assures them that they're all safe, and—like magic—manages to calm them all down. (Momo is utterly glad that Iida is Vice Rep. She can't imagine herself raising her voice to the extent Iida did.)
Eventually, everybody regains their composure and slowly trickles out of the hallway and back towards the cafeteria (with a few students making their way to the clinic) allowing Momo the space to breathe. Finally, it's over.
"Well," Aiyama drawls, approaching them with an irked Bakugou, a relieved Kirishima, and a confused Kaminari in tow. "That was something."
"No shit, Eyebags, it was a fucking disaster."
Ignoring Bakugou's comment, Aiyama gestures to where Iida is currently getting down from his temporary perch with Uraraka's help and asks, "Okay, so who came up with the idea that Vice Rep should act as a human intercom?"
"It was Yaoyorozu-chan's idea!" Uraraka answers jovially as soon as she and Iida are close to their group. Flushing from the amount of attention she's receiving, Momo fiddles with her fingers, thinking the floor to be an intriguing thing to look at.
"Huh, that's pretty awesome."
"That's so manly! Nice thinking, Yaoyorozu!"
"Man, you really saved our butts back there, Yaomomo!"
"Indeed, Yaoyorozu-kun is truly deserving of the title of Class Representative!"
Ahhh, this is too much...
She appreciates the sentiments, but there are just so many compliments she can take before flushing into a tomato. She received compliments before during galas and special events from influential people but it's different when they're from classmates and friends who recognize her efforts so genuinely. Without thinking about it, Momo gravitates her gaze over to her quiet comrade.
Midoriya doesn't smile nor does he join in on the praising parade. But he does nod at her, his expression not so intense and judgmental. Momo, in return, smiles in appreciation.
Maybe she does have what it takes after all.
~
Somewhere in a hidden, dingy bar, a young, spindly man littered with severed hands grumbles impatiently whilst playing with a video game console. In the background, a lonely television displays the news of the reporter-break-in. The man clicks his tongue.
"Oi, Kurogiri. Are the quest items prepared already or what? I wanna turn those disgusting hero pests into dust already."
Behind the counter, a man of purple mist answers with conviction (like he's programmed to), "Be patient, Shigaraki Tomura. Our time will come soon and your efforts will be recognized by the world."
"I've been patient long enough!" The gaunt man, Shigaraki Tomura, snaps, nearly slamming his console on the table in his anger. "I played my turn in breaking that stupid school's defenses but what happened to that damn scout?" He doesn't let Kurogiri answer. He continues, incensed one way or another behind the pale blue hand over his face, "He's a shifty bastard when he first walked in with unknown stats. Who knows if he even did his job right—"
"As a matter of fact, Crusty, I did."
A tall, rugged figure, dressed in dark street clothes, steps into the bar. An air of defiance and disregard oozes from him and it pisses Shigaraki off. He snarls, "Kreuger. What took you so fucking long?"
Pissing Shigaraki off, even more, the newcomer smirks coyly. He holds up a thin folder and waves it in the air as if taunting an irate child with candy that's just out of reach. "Oh, y'know, took my sweet time, enjoyed the scenery, smelled the flowers. Anyways, I stole a pic of this while everybody else was occupied with the whole reporter break-in thing. Nobody even knew I was there."
Kreuger carelessly tosses the folder on the counter, leaning back on the edge afterward because he's a punk. "Then, I went n' had Giran print it. You're welcome, by the way."
Shigaraki only scoffs. There's no way he's thanking this guy for doing a job that's as simple as gaining mana by killing low-level mobs. He snatches the folder with three of his fingers. "I don't like you."
Kreuger just smirks in reply and it takes a considerable amount of self-restraint on Shigaraki's part not to dust him then and there. Loathe as he is to admit it, the bastard's Quirk is useful against Pro Heroes (at least, that's what Giran promised). The same can't be said about the guy himself, however; he always slips away like a rat in the walls and it's like pulling teeth with plastic straws just to find him again, even with Giran's help. Annoying piece of shit. "You're so annoying. Why are you even here?" Shigaraki sneers.
"As a favor, mostly," Kreuger drawls with a shrug. Ugh, what a dick. "Besides, I've got my personal motives."
"And those are?"
"Finding this one bastard who keeps ruining my fun with his nobleness and beat the shit out of him in the worst way possible," is all Kreuger tells him as if he's talking about the weather, and Shigaraki can't be bothered to pry further. He'll just ask Giran for info if he's curious enough.
"Whatever. Just don't get in my way once we bring this society to the ground." Shigaraki shoots a particular seething look at the newbie, thinking it'd be absolutely easy to kill you, you damn rat. But sacrificing party members before a planned ambush isn't a good strategy so Shigaraki will just have to tolerate the asshole's presence. For now. If he ever toes out of line, at least Shigaraki has a reasonable excuse to get rid of him permanently and not have Sensei scolding him for it.
Kreuger peers back at him, the orange lighting of the room making his toxic pink eyes glow ominously against the black of his sclera. "Sure. So, what's next in the plan, boss?"
There's only one answer to that. And it's clearer than any dream Shigaraki ever had since he was a child.
"Kill them all."
(and in the corner of the room, cast in heavy shadows, a bulky creature made by inhuman hands waits mindlessly with the indelible purpose of following its master even to hell.)
~
The next day finds John and his classmates in a bus en route to a remote training facility just within UA's territory.
It was a sudden thing, Aizawa announcing the trip just yesterday and barely giving them any more reprieve or info other than costumes not being a requirement (at least John has an excuse to ditch his hero attire in exchange for the regular PE uniform, only saving his gloves, boots, and holsters holding his weapons). John—despite not ever experiencing it himself in a regular school—thinks there should be some kind of permission slip for parents to sign but given that this isn't a run-of- the-mill high school, he opts to believe they're not a prerequisite.
Later on, he learned that the purpose of the trip (as explained by Aizawa on the bus) is rescue training, something John never quite underwent as an adolescent under Ruska Roma's tutelage. But he's saved people before as Midoriya Izuku. He should already be familiar with the idea of "rescuing" considering he's been doing it for some time with Tsukauchi and occasionally Katsuki as his witnesses. Although, it's probably (absolutely) not normal for a kid to be apprehending criminals with ease.
On the other hand, John is hardly a normal guy, and his classmates seem to pick up on that.
"Hey, Midoriya-chan."
It was the frog-like girl in the class, Asui Tsuyu, who called him while the rest of their classmates chat with each other. Her particular wide-eyed stare doesn't bother him per se, but it does have him instinctively tense ever so slightly (when you're getting stared at, expect a knife close to your back when you're not looking anymore) to which he tries to relax.
He's surrounded by classmates, John reminds himself constantly. Peers rather than people trying to kill him.
Asui seems to take his attention on her as a sign to continue. "I usually say what's on my mind so I was wondering how you learned to fight so well in the Battle Trials. It looked almost professional."
Ah. Of course. He should've expected this to be brought up sooner or later. "I practiced a lot."
(He doesn't bring up that he had prior experience before joining UA, before becoming Izuku. He'll never mention it to anyone, not even his mother and Katsuki. While the idea grazed his thoughts back then, he resolved to hide that disgusting part of his history away from everyone. That secret will stay with him to his—and Midoriya Izuku's—grave.)
Beside him, Katsuki snorts under his breath, "That's a light way to put it."
"Yeah, but you looked so cool, dude!" Kaminari adds with a grin. "It's like you were a ninja or- or a super skilled secret agent or something! Your moves were hella smooth too like you really knew what you were doing!"
John simply nods at that because, yes, he did know what he was doing. (Well, most of it. Half the time, it had been muscle memory—or, simply just memory. Not that he'd want to ponder over that occurrence at the moment.)
"On top of that, you did all those sick moves without a Quirk, so you're ultra-awesome!" Sero Hanta, the kid with tape dispensers for elbows, carries on with a smile that reminds John of a fictional Japanese cat.
"No kidding! And hey, since when have you learned to do those cool flips and punches anyway?" Kaminari leans forward on his seat, eager as a puppy for its treats, and John tries to come up with a
simple answer. But Katsuki beats him to it, looking rather smug with himself. Hitoshi, meanwhile, shakes his head lightly with a lazy grin, rolling his eyes.
"He learned how to kick ass since elementary."
The silence might as well be awkward if not for the looks of admiration and awe on Kaminari, Sero, and Kirishima's faces. John elects to ignore them by staring at his shoes rather than their expectant stares.
He's not especially acclimatized to receiving admiration for his skills with the kind of spirit his classmates have. Take Zero as an example—though he was more of an obsessed fanatic with a one- sided vendetta against him than an impressed teenager. Now that particular meeting left a poor taste in John's mouth and he wishes to put it to rest.
Though he supposes he can do that by indulging in his classmates' wonder and agreeing to Katsuki's statement with a silent nod.
Kaminari pushes on with stars in his eyes, leaning close to John's personal space. "That's. So. Epic!"
"And manly!" Kirishima adds with equal zest. "You gotta teach us some of your moves sometime, Midoriya! I bet it'd be fun!"
(It wasn't fun. The first time he learned how to fight and the times after that were never fun. It broke him and made him into something monstrous.)
"You say that," Hitoshi then chooses to jump in, "but once you start training with him, it's over for you."
An exaggeration on Hitoshi's part, quite frankly; John didn't coach him that hard. If anything, his teaching style wasn't as strict and grueling as the Director had been (although that was primarily because he rarely taught anyone anything. He just wasn't the mentor type, and nobody younger than him had ever approached him for personal lessons.) But he lets his insomniac friend retell his experience training beside John and Katsuki months before, tuning out the gasps and whispered compliments that fill the bus.
By the grace of some god up there, Katsuki withholds exposing John's "ventures" once everyone gradually turns the topic to training regiments and the science behind childhood martial arts (for some reason). Instead, his friend elbows him discretely, muttering, "I think you're gonna rock their shit once they see how you really fight, Deku."
John is unsure what Katsuki means by that; there's nothing inherently groundbreaking about his fighting style. Unconventional, maybe, but not revolutionary. Not to mention, if their classmates did see him fight seriously, they'd most probably steer clear away from him but that's a faraway bridge if John plays his cards right. He just hopes that nothing would force him to that kind of scenario so soon into the school year. "Sure."
Much later, they arrive at their destination.
As declared by their teacher, the facility is dubbed the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, or USJ for short. It doesn't escape John's notice that almost all of his classmates whisper in wonderment, "Universal Studios Japan?" Or something close to that.
The building stands tall and proud, not unlike a colosseum with a glass dome roof. John thinks that it could hold a candle to the size of the Ruska Roma (but considering the Director's taste, she'd
likely complain about the homespun furnishing). So, this must be where they'll have their rescue training. Maybe the inside is just as expansive as the outside.
And it is; areas of various disasters lay in different parts of the building, with a clear plaza at the center. To any regular civilian, this would've counted as a theme park. Maybe the others' Universal Studios Japan comparison wasn't so off the mark.
"Class, meet your instructor for today," Aizawa announces once everyone enters the facility. In front, a figure in an astronaut costume gives them a friendly wave. Uraraka, John notices, seems to perk up at their special guest. She's probably a fan of them.
"Hello, everyone! I'm Thirteen, the Space Hero, and your head instructor for today's rescue training!"
From there, the hero discusses the purposes of rescue training and the importance of using their Quirks to provide help than malicious harm. It's an honorable speech, all things considered. Even Katsuki seems to reflect on it a little but maintains the unflinching front of a future number one hero.
The speech ends and everyone starts to chat with one another excitedly about their first rescue training. John stays largely quiet and out of the way. In the corner of his vision, he observes Aizawa approaching Thirteen and talking with them in hushed tones. Shortly after, Thirteen holds up three fingers, and Aizawa—if you know what to look for—slouches in a disgruntled posture, digging his hands deeper into his pockets.
Hm. Peculiar. But ultimately, none of John's concerns. It could just be a faculty thing that doesn't warrant his attention anyway.
He turns to listen to Hitoshi and Uraraka talk about her admiration for Thirteen and—
He hears an indistinct buzzing in the air, comparable to a microphone unplugged from a speaker. He tastes a faint tang of electricity, and it's not coming from Kaminari. The others don't seem to notice except for the student with multiple appendages (Shouji Mezou, he remembers). Overhead, the lights flicker, and a heaviness rolls in John's gut; a warning of the danger that's creeping up on the edges.
"Oi, Deku, what's going on?" Katsuki murmurs to him, clearly noticing John's sudden behavior. The others are still unaware.
There was never any use sugarcoating things with his friend so John answers promptly, even if it's on the foundation of a hunch, "Something's wrong."
The flickering continues and the buzzing grows louder.
Don't let it be an attack, an ambush, an assassination...
Right as John attempts to warn their teacher, a dark swirling vortex materializes in the plaza before anyone else realizes it. It brings a coldness to the building despite the open space and John can only recognize it as death.
('Something wicked this way comes,' he remembered reading. Everything wicked in the world, he eventually learned, would always come.)
Aizawa's attention moves to that portal with urgency.
Even from this distance, John distinguishes a man covered in disconnected hands exiting the shadowy portal, a presage of a calamity. Behind him, more figures follow, all menacing and clearly not involved in the rescue simulation.
All at once, everything takes a sudden turn.
Aizawa wastes no time in warning them to stay back. In the same breath, the Underground hero puts on his goggles and his capture weapon rises to the sign of danger.
More portals show up like oily pools. Dozens upon dozens of villains come into sight with their weapons and Quirks at the ready until it seemed like an army of them packs into the plaza. They're not here to merely scare and hurt. No, John is certain that they're also here to kill.
At a speed of a seasoned hero, Eraserhead leaps to action, and things fall apart from there.
They all try to run at Thirteen's order, with John having to stop an incensed Katsuki from making the stupid decision of joining their teacher in the fray. John also stops Hitoshi from lingering near the top of the stairs with a call of his name, taking a brisk note of the anxious look that was on his friend's face as he watched Eraserhead fend off the villains with no trouble.
There was no time to stop and question; they have to keep moving or they'll die.
They don't make it far. A person made of blackened mist manifests before them, guarding their way as Cerberus did in the Underworld. His body expands like that of a wall made of inky smoke yet he smells of ice and blood rather than ash and flames.
Thirteen readies their Quirk, popping open their fingertips, but despite that, John can't help but put a hand over his gun and prepare for the worse. (He does not think of dead bodies scattered at his feet. He does not think of houses burning and starving, beaten dogs. He does not think of bullets drilling through foreheads, setting off the end of his life.)
"Greetings, golden eggs of UA," the misty figure intones like a hardened soldier, a pitiless machine, a harbinger of death. Golden eyes glow ominously against the shadows, a false light at the end of the tunnel. "We are the League of Villains and our goal is to kill All Might."
John should've knocked on wood.
~
This. Fucking. Sucks.
Katsuki isn't even surprised he got stuck with the Canadian-leaf-haired moron in the landslide zone; the both of them had charged at the Warp Quirk fucker earlier with the sole intent of knocking him away from their class's escape route but that didn't do shit. The bastard still got to use his Quirk so now, here Katsuki is, dealing with a bunch of thugs who thought it'd be quick and easy since they're "dealing with a bunch of brats".
That was their mistake. Shitty Hair doesn't let up with all the numbers; he just plows through them like a bulldozer.
Katsuki can respect that side about him but this whole situation still fucking sucks. (He's so gonna
get shit on by Deku and his stupid fucking stares later but that's a problem for Future Katsuki to deal with.)
"Watch your six, Shitty Hair!"
Aiming a direct but nonlethal blast at a punk-ass villain trying to club his otherwise occupied classmate on the head, Katsuki sincerely hopes that they make it out of here in one piece because there's no way in any of the nine circles of hell will Katsuki die so easily to a sad bunch of low- grade villain shits. He still has a score to settle with that mist bastard.
"Oh, thanks for the save, bro!" Shitty Hair thanks him, swiftly and easily taking out two goons in the process using his hardened arms.
Katsuki just grunts in response and felled three other villains with relative ease. For a group that calls themselves the League of Villains, they sure don't live up to the fucking hype. These guys are scrubs, especially since half of the bastards present in this zone get remarkably floored to kingdom come by two teenagers. If anything else, this is just fucking sad.
"I wonder how everyone's doing right now," Shitty Hair says to nobody because Katsuki isn't wondering that. Not at all. Deku is a fucking unit on his own and Eyebags is as clever on his feet as he is a cheeky son of a bitch when it comes to mind games. Plus, he saw what the class is capable of by observing the Trials. There's not much to worry about.
He socks a bastard in the nose for trying to sneak one up on him from behind. "They're probably fucking peachy. Just focus on the fight first, dumbass, then you can worry about their asses!"
"I know they can handle themselves—" he pummels a few more villains to unconsciousness, "— I'm just a little worried for Midoriya," Shitty Hair confesses, not letting go of his Hardening Quirk as he scans the place for any more shitty villains slinking around. "These villains are no joke."
Well, that's stupid as fuck. Didn't those guys see what went down during the Battle Trials, or was that a collective fever dream or some shit?
"You should be more worried about these assholes instead of Deku," Katsuki remarks because he knows what Deku is capable of, and he's a billion universes away from competent and weak. Katsuki should know; he bore witness to a shit load of his friend's scrimmages, the Sludge Bastard incident being a prime example of how goddamn resilient he is (even though that particular stunt nearly gave Katsuki a fucking heart attack).
And these E-grade villains aren't worth shit.
"Huh? Why?"
Katsuki blasts away a couple more villains who try to get a one-up on him. He hears heavy breathing from above. "'Cuz Deku isn't a weak ass bastard, unlike these guys."
Instantly, a chameleon-like villain jumps from the wall, revealing themselves with a battle cry (like an absolute dumbass), and Katsuki responds with another nonlethal blast, knocking him out cold.
Shitty Hair looks unconvinced, which pisses Katsuki off a little. Fine, he can understand the doubt since all of them are barely fucking BFFs or whatever, and he only knew that Deku learned how to fight since he was a kid but Shitty Hair should've at least remembered the Battle Trials the other day. If Deku can single-handedly take on Katsuki with just his wits and weapons—without a Quirk—then he can handle these piss-poor morons who call themselves villains.