Hey everyone! The anime announced its newest season between my updates! I'm happy that we'll finally be able to see the moment that made so many people fall in love with Mirko's character. We can only hope that it'll be done justice.

Kind of on a side note, I've realized that I've unwittingly become a salty hater. I'm not quite sure if I've ever expressed my distaste for the way that the manga is developing before, but if I did, I hope that I didn't give the impression that I don't like My Hero Academia at all.

Without getting into spoiler territory, the newest My Hero chapter sparked something in me. For whatever reason, it reminded me of all the little things that (I think) makes Horikoshi's manga so special. I was rereading earlier chapters as I was writing chapter 12 of Emiya-sensei, and they're really, really fun. It's a real shame that Horikoshi has felt the need (or was forced) to rush his story. He's an excellent visual artist and storyteller.

But I digress.

I think I've been doing the opposite, if anything lol. Emiya-sensei will finally get a move-on as of this chapter. I can only hope that my update format doesn't hurt this too badly in the grand scheme of things. I'll do my best to roll out chapters to fill out blanks as soon as I can.

Extra illustrations for this chapter! Thanks for reading, everyone.

X

"My name's 'Shirou'! Would you quit calling me 'kid' already!?"

A seventeen-year-old boy glared up at his master from across the large desk in the hero's office. His unkempt red hair cast a shadow over his narrowed eyes, though his pouted lips neutralized any sort of threatening aura that such an expression may have held.

His words were met with a boisterous laugh. A hand dropped down on his head and ruffled his hair.

Frustratingly, it was difficult to make his point when his master was still that little bit taller than he was. If only he would hurry up and hit his growth spurt…

"I'll call 'ya kid until you aren't a kid anymore."

"I'm not!"

"Hah~? You sure about that? Which one of us caught the villain today?"

The boy's eyes shot open and his mouth flapped about uselessly for a second.

"That's– what's that got to do with anything? Besides, that was the plan. You were supposed to be the one to catch the villain!"

His master smirked.

"Yeah. Because my aim's way better than yours."

"Not true!" denied Shirou immediately. "I've never missed a target."

"Don't believe 'ya."

His ears reddened. He looked like a teakettle ready to boil its top off. He knew that his master was just messing with him, but he couldn't deny that it was working.

"That's the whole reason why you brought me on as an intern to begin with, wasn't it?"

He was laughed at again.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about."

"You–!"

"Tell 'ya what. Once you graduate, we'll find out who's the better shot. If you're really as good as you say you are, I might even let you be my sidekick!"

In an unusually childish gesture that only this person could drag out of him, Shirou stuck out his tongue.

"Who'd wanna be your sidekick anyway?"

He was ignored. His master presented a wrapped bundle to him and pushed it into his chest. He was forced to quickly grab onto the object lest it fell to the ground.

He immediately lurched forward.

Heavy.

The boy looked up to his master expectantly.

"A gift," was all that his master offered in explanation.

Slowly, he tore off the wrapping to reveal what could have been the largest bow that he'd ever seen. It was made of a strange black plastic compound that he couldn't identify.

"A support item?" Shirou remarked questioningly.

"Mm. Your aim's not too bad, but there isn't really anything to make of it with a quirk like yours, right?"

"…How do I use it?"

"Are you dumb? It's a bow."

"I can see that!"

Another laugh. This time, he was alert enough to move out of the way before that errant hand could mess with his hair again.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out. Challenge me properly once you've reached your full potential."

Shirou took a deep breath. The majority of his annoyance was pushed to the side and he bowed at the waist.

"…Thank you, Sensei. It's still a bit early to say this, but I'll be in your care."

His master's smile didn't so much as twitch, but for a moment, it held that far-off look that he'd learned to recognize.

"Hah. We'll see if I still want 'ya once you're out of school. Now scram. There's some super-duper top-secret hero stuff that I gotta do."

Shirou didn't buy it, of course. That was just a roundabout way of saying that Sensei wanted to take the rest of the day off, wasn't it? Seriously.

He scoffed.

"Yeah. Just make sure to watch your back. People are gonna be talking if your sidekick is a better shot than–"

"Yeah, yeah. Get outta here, Brat."

The final day of his third-year hero agency internship being over, the UA academy senior ran out the door with a hand raised over his shoulder in a lazy wave.

He missed the warm grin trailing his back as he left.

X

X

The classroom was silent.

It wasn't something that unusual – definitely not at this time of day when classes had long since ended and everyone had already left – yet Momo still thought it strange considering that she was currently seated across from Bakugo, her vice representative.

The boy, usually so quick to anger, held a bored expression as he flipped through the documents that they needed to have in order at the last minute for the sports festival. He juggled a pen between his fingers absentmindedly, only using it for its intended purpose every so often to jot down a note.

He was different, now.

The sports festival drew closer, and Bakugo seemed to grow more and more reserved as it did. During the first few weeks of school, she readily pegged him as the quintessential problem child, and yet…

At this point, wasn't it entirely possible that she'd simply misjudged him from the jump?

He was insufferable, at first. Loud, full of himself, a bully… all the talent in the world couldn't detract from those facts.

And now–

"Hey. Ponytail. Quit spacing out and get back to work."

Embarrassed, her cheeks lit up.

"Right. Sorry".

Well, he was still all of those things. Only it was different somehow. She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Nonetheless, it was a bit awkward to be stuck alone with him like this. Though they'd been working together as class representatives for a while now, this was the first time that they'd actually stayed after hours without anyone else around.

Not that she was complaining, or anything! Heck, she was the one that suggested that they should do this to begin with. Maybe it was a bit selfish of her, but the management of the sports festival – albeit a very small portion of it – was the first big responsibility given to her as class representative. She didn't want to mess this up.

Part of her unease stemmed from the fact that she'd dragged Bakugo into this. She expected him to reject the idea out of hand, but he went with it pretty easily. She'd have thought that the boy would have much preferred to spend the time leading up to the big event training as much as possible.

"You're doing it again," he remarked flatly.

Instead of apologizing, Momo popped the question.

"Do you resent me?"

He narrowed his eyes. She waited for his response with bated breath.

"Huh?"

…Right. Of course. She needed to say a bit more than that.

"For this," she went on to elaborate. "We probably didn't need to go this far, but I dragged you into making last-minute changes to 1-A's recreational seating when you could've been using the time to train. I'm sorry."

"And what about you?" he bit back quickly. "I'm sure you could have put some extra work in too if you wanted."

The girl shrank in on herself. Was he calling her out? It sounded like it.

"I–"

"Forget it," he interrupted her. He looked as though he was holding back from saying something else. "My point is: I'm not so pathetic that I need to give up on one thing in order to be the best at something else. If I want to train, I'll do that. If I have to do this stupid 'vice-rep' crap, I'll do it too."

"It's not stupid!" she denied before she could stop herself. He just waved her off.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

She leaned back and got back to work and he did the same. The girl took a moment to think about what he said.

If you really thought it was stupid, you wouldn't have come in the first place, right?

"…Hey. Bakugo-san?"

He seemed annoyed by being interrupted again but thankfully did not act on that annoyance.

"What is it, Ponytail," he muttered.

"Do you know what you're going to say? For your speech, I mean."

He was the student with the highest entrance exam score, so he'd been asked to speak at the opening ceremony –to take the Athlete's Oath on behalf of their grade– just like every first-ranked examinee before him. He seemed like someone who'd just wing it, truthfully, but maybe he had something in mind after all.

For a moment, he was silent.

"Yeah, I've got something in mind."

Momo smiled.

"I'm happy for you."

He quirked a brow.

"Talking ain't that hard."

She realized that her words came out wrong. Her eyes widened.

"No! That's now what I meant. It's more like…"

How should I put this?

"I got into UA through recommendation, so I was never really in a position to fight for my place at this school. You went above and beyond that. To have your efforts rewarded and recognized like this on a public stage: it must be a great feeling, right? It's an–"

Bakugou's sorted stack of documents was dropped in front of her. He got up and walked to the door.

"Get off my dick."

…Huh?

Momo blanked. The only thing going through her head was the quieting sound of his footsteps.

"W-wait!"

She hadn't even realized that she had thrown herself out of her seat and shouted until the boy stopped and threw his head over his shoulder. He stared at her expectantly, and she then realized that she didn't even know what it was that she wanted to say.

"I–"

"Keep acting like a pebble for me to step on and I'll treat you like one."

Her face reddened.

Was that the impression that he had of her? What, did he think that she was just brown-nosing? Was that how she was coming across?

The red tinge spread to her ears.

How embarrassing.

Her jaw opened. She wanted something to come out of her mouth. Anything. She didn't want him to think that he was right.

The conversation that she had with Sensei came back to her.

I want to find my own answers.

How pathetic. At least this much should've been obvious by now, right?

"I'm serious about being a hero, you know!"

Her glare was icy, though this infuriating boy met it easily.

She didn't expect him to answer with a toothy grin, as cocky as it was wide.

"I can wreck your shit without worrying about holding back, then."

He disappeared into the hallway and she was left speechless for an entirely new reason.

Was that supposed to be encouraging or was it a straight-up threat? She really couldn't tell. Just how socially inept was this guy!?

X

Rumi threw the door open and sprinted out of her parents' house with such fervour that an onlooker could mistake her for a convict escaping a detention facility. As it were, she only got a few odd glances from passersby as her ears flattened against the side of her head and she screamed at the top of her lungs.

"I'm free!"

"Quit being so dramatic."

The grown woman spun on her heel and glared at her dad. The man stood tall in the doorway with crossed arms.

"The least you could do is thank your parents for taking care of their whiny daughter while she recovered from her self-inflicted leg injury."

The white-haired woman clicked her tongue.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Your words are dripping with sincerity."

She stuck her tongue out. Her father wore the face of a man contemplating violence.

"So what are your plans now?" he asked through gnashed teeth. "You're not jumping right back into work, I hope."

The woman smirked.

"Not yet. I gotta drop by Shirou's place first."

He quirked a brow.

"Any reason in particular?"

The smirk turned into a sneer.

"Hell yeah, there's a reason. I'm giving him a piece of my mind. He thinks he can mess with me as much as he wants as long as I can't leave my room, does he? Well let's see–"

"Enough, Rumi."

The woman wasn't so much talking to the man as she was plotting under her breath, but her father's abrupt interruption cut her thoughts short regardless.

"Eh?"

"You need to move past… this. Whatever 'this' is. You and him both. You're the one that goes on TV and preaches about living your life without regrets, right?"

The pro hero crossed her arms and stood square, matching the stance of her much taller parent.

As someone who had been a part of her life since the day she was born, Mister Usagiyama knew that she was only giving the illusion of standing her ground. She wasn't able to look him in the eye.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Old Man."

"Don't you?"

He sighed. The man moved to the porch and dropped down on the top step. He patted the space next to where he was sitting, urging her to join him.

She made a strained face, nonverbally asserting that she wanted no part in any sort of talk that he thought he was about to have with her.

Stubbornness was a family trait, however.

"Sit."

Her shoulders dropped. Like a twelve-year-old girl being admonished for skipping out on her chores, she trudged over to where he was and did as she was told.

They didn't look at each other, both preferring to stare at the street block in front of them.

Her father spoke first.

"It's hard, right? Being honest with yourself when you don't even know what it is that you need to be honest about."

"I–"

"Let me finish."

"…"

"Even way back when you were pint-sized," he continued, "…or at least, more so than you are now–"

"Hey."

"–You were great at staying in touch with how you were feeling. I remember you coming home from grade school each day and talking smack about your classmates. Each and every thing they did you remembered, and you'd talk to me and your mom about what it was that make you like them more and what it was that made you like them less. It would be easy to pretend that you were just being a judgemental little shit, but you made sure to remember all the little details of how they made you tick and you picked it apart like it was nothing. You get how that's crazy, right? No seven-year-old gives that much thought to twenty other kids that they barely talk to."

"But I didn't," she denied.

"Yeah. You didn't. It all came to you naturally, right? It still does. If you like something, you like it; if you don't, you don't. It makes life sound so simple when you can wear your emotions on your sleeve so easily."

Rumi looked at him and quirked a brow.

"And you don't think I'm doing that now?" she asked, not knowing where he was going with this.

"How do you feel about Emiya?"

She opened her mouth and expected something to come out.

Nothing did.

Her brain only got as far as "Obviously, I" before drawing a blank.

Obviously, I what?

It was obvious, wasn't it? How she felt about him was obvious. How he felt about her was obvious.

He's my friend.

Even after all this time, she didn't think that she had ever said it to his face, but she obviously didn't need to, right? It never felt wrong to not say stuff like that.

Off the top of her head, that was the best that she could come up with, but at the same time…

That wasn't the right answer, was it? Would it feel right to say that? It was almost a placeholder for a word that wouldn't come to her.

"I–"

"Well, never mind that for now." Her dad got up and ambled back towards the door, only pausing for a moment when his hand touched the handle. "It's good as long as you're giving it some thought. Go do whatever it is that you think you gotta do."

For the next few minutes, the Rabbit Hero sat alone on her parents' front porch, staring ahead blankly.

X

The weather was nice today.

Shirou's expression was set in a slight smile as he supervised the skewers on his barbecue. The feeling of the soft breeze caressing his scalp was a pleasant one.

It was nice of the landlord to let him use the roof of the building like this. He couldn't exactly do any grilling indoors; this sort of thing wasn't usually accessible to people who lived in apartment complexes.

"Shirou. The chips are done."

The pro hero looked over his shoulder to see Arthur setting a plate down on the pull-out table that they'd brought up with them.

"How did they turn out?" Shirou asked curiously. "You did those with the air fryer, right?"

The blonde man offered a nod. He picked the plate back up, brought it next to Shirou's ear, and gave it a small shake. The sizzling grill was definitely loud, but the sound of the fried potato sticks being jostled around was still audible. They were definitely crispy.

Shirou grabbed one and flicked it into his mouth. His eyes widened.

"And what, you're telling me you only used the two tablespoons of olive oil from earlier?"

"Just that," Arthur confirmed. He seemed awfully pleased with himself, which Shirou could understand. The man was completely right about the air fryer.

"I can't believe I didn't have something like this in the house already. And you're telling me I can make other stuff too?"

"Practically anything," Arthur confirmed, walking back to the table with the plate. "Meats, vegetables, sweets–"

"No kidding."

"Isn't it something? It's Merlin who introduced me to this thing, actually. Well, not that I use it much, but the chefs at Camelot have a few commercial ones now, thanks to her."

Shirou grinned appreciatively and took the skewers off the heat.

"I'm sure I'll be using it just as frequently from now on. Thank you for the gift, Arthur."

Once everything was taken off the heat, they made one last trip to bring up the salad, pickles, and charcuterie board. Maybe it was a bit much for two people, but there was a fair bit to talk about from the sound of things.

The pair took their seats and allowed themselves to enjoy the fruits of their labour for a moment before getting right to business.

Arthur started first.

"You read the links I sent you, right?"

Shirou grimaced and inclined his head.

"Yeah. That guy, the Hero Killer… Seven pro heroes have been murdered by him so far, is that right? This is something that should have reached me much earlier. I don't understand how –or why– the HPSC has been keeping this under wraps."

There was a dark expression on the foreign hero's face. Archer's eyes widened.

"You don't think–"

"I don't like the way that the Safety Commission has been handling this matter, Shirou."

The Japanese man leaned back into his chair and exhaled sharply.

"…What are you saying?"

"If their motivations are leading them to protect a villain to this extent–"

"That's a serious accusation," Shirou interjected curtly.

"If," the blonde stressed. "If they're responsible for this, then Black Knight's escape suddenly sounds a lot more feasible assuming he was assisted by someone on the inside and not that hodgepodge villain group."

Shirou forced his shoulders to relax.

"Let's say you're right and it was in the HPSC's best interest, somehow, to help a supervillain escape Tartarus, then why? How?"

"I'm not too sure about the 'why' yet, but I think I have the 'how' part figured out. I've done some digging, and there's a good chance that they have a plant at the facility."

Shirou was visibly thrown for a loop for an instant.

His brows knitted together.

"Shirou. Is there something wrong?"

Only once he heard his friend's words did the man get a hold of himself.

"No, sorry. Ignore me."

Arthur leaned back and stared up at the sky.

"It's not my place to be picking apart, criticizing or interfering with Japan's Hero system like this. I'm a foreigner and I recognize that… but it's something important to me: not as a hero, but as a representative of Camelot. You understand, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

Arthur didn't look back down.

"The Hero Killer might have the answers I need, but if the wrong people find out that we're after him –assuming that he's still under someone's protection– then things will go south quickly."

Shirou's smile was slight but definitely present. He knew what his friend was asking even if he didn't want to say it.

"We'll just have to be careful, then."

Though most of the blonde's face was obscured by the angle, Shirou could still see his lips being pulled taught by his cheeks.

"I guess so."

Putting his reservations aside for the moment, Shirou was happy that Arthur was now someone who could ask others for help when necessary.

Or at least, someone who could ask him for help.

The door to the roof opened, and both men turned to face it. Neither was expecting another guest.

Shirou blinked.

"Rumi? What are you doing here?"

The woman took a moment to soak in the scene. She stared at the redhead, then the blonde.

"...Never mind that. What's all this about? What's wrong with eating inside like a normal person? I had to ask around to find out where you were, you know."

There was a complicated look on her face that she was doing a fairly decent job at hiding, but Shirou saw through it. He couldn't help but feel like there was something that she had come here to say that she wasn't saying.

"Arthur bought me an air fryer," he told her. "We made some potatoes with it. Want some?"

Wordlessly, she walked up to him and stole a fry off of his plate.

"Ah, there's a whole bowl of them here, so there's no need to–"

"It's not bad," she remarked in a complimentary manner. "So whatcha been talking about?"

Arthur smiled politely. He obviously wasn't used to how easily this woman dropped in and out.

"Hello, Miss Usagiyama. We weren't discussing anything of great importance, actually, though you're free to join–"

"We're going to chase after a villain that the Safety Commission has been keeping under wraps. We're going to interrogate him to figure out why."

Despite being in the open air on the highest point of a high-rise building, the wind felt as if it stilled.

Arthur looked like he swallowed a lemon; Rumi's head swivelled between them with wide, owlish eyes.

Shirou's expression was resolute.

He knew exactly what he did.

X

"Introducing… the first-years of the Hero Course! Class A!"

Being on this stage was much more nerve-racking than he thought it would be.

Izuku took a deep breath in an effort to calm his nerves. It did very little, unfortunately.

The arena was huge, and the crowd filled the stands to the brim. If that wasn't enough, the fact that some of the people in that crowd were legit pro heroes wasn't something that was going to slip his mind any time soon.

It wasn't supposed to be this crowded, was it? Or at least, not for the first-years. In third year, when students were a foot into the pro world already, it was a different story. If their abilities were already so much more developed, it would be natural for the common populace and hero agencies alike to show more interest.

He felt uneasy.

That feeling of unease was amplified the moment that he saw the three foreign heroes standing in the middle of the arena with Midnight-sensei.

No one was paying attention to them. Of course they wouldn't. As famous as they were, a foreign celebrity could only be so recognizable overseas unless they were All Might.

Anyone remotely in-the-know about heroes, however…

Ah. This was insane.

His brain shut out everything around him. His knees started to shake, which made him embarrassed and self-conscious about anyone looking at him strangely, which made his knees shake even more, which made–

"Tell the world, 'I am here!'"

All Might had a talk with him earlier.

He was sure that it was meant to encourage him –to get him fired up– but honestly, it felt like it did nothing but make him even more nervous. One for All was an incredibly powerful quirk, and it being handed down to him was such a monumental responsibility that–

He slapped his cheeks. Kyoka-san and Mashirao-san, who stood next to him, recoiled in response to his sudden movement.

Right. He just had to leave all of his doubts behind him. It was fine to be nervous, but he couldn't let those feelings take the wheel!

The boy looked up to the audience and kept an eye out for a certain someone.

…There.

As far away as they were, Izuku could make out a pair of white bunny ears perked lopsidedly. As expected, Emiya-sensei was right there too.

So she's really here.

More than any of that other stuff, her presence instantly shot up to being the number one cause for his fears. If he made a fool of himself after she did all that crazy stuff just to help him out…

He gulped, and One for All activated subconsciously.

"Everyone, give a round of applause to Katsuki Bakugou… who will now be taking the Athlete's Oath as the first-year representative!"

Izuku snapped out of whatever trance it was that took a hold of him. How long had he zoned out? He missed the introduction of the other classes, the teachers…

His once friend walked past him and everyone else quietly. In fact, that went both ways: everyone was quiet. The cheers from the crowd died down so that people could hear the speech of the supposedly-promising young man.

Izuku's gaze hardened. He was positive that Kacchan was going to say something outlandish, but… beating him wasn't going to be as easy as Kacchan thought it would be!

He wouldn't hear the end of it, otherwise.

X

"Everyone, give a round of applause to Katsuki Bakugou… who will now be taking the Athlete's Oath as the first-year representative!"

Katsuki inhaled.

He exhaled.

He felt everyone's eyes on his back.

Good. This is the way that it should be.

He stood at the podium.

It was high, here. He looked down at his classmates, and they looked up at him.

The crowd was even further above.

That man.

He was right there, sitting next to the Rabbit Hero.

Their teacher.

It almost felt strange. As their homeroom teacher and the Number Two Hero, he usually had such a tight hold on their development. In the grand scheme of things, he was a large presence.

Right, now, he was nothing more than a spectator.

Just like everyone else.

Just like he needed him to be.

"Bakugou. Let's talk for a moment."

His mind couldn't forget the talk they had the other day, not long before the festival was about to get underway.

That moment, so fleeting in the grand scheme of things that it would have been a passing afterthought in his eyes had it happened any differently.

This was fine. He wasn't supposed to forget.

If I have to tell you who I am, then I might as well be fuckin' lyin' to ya.

Katsuki grabbed the microphone that the teacher in the skimpy outfit handed to him. Those other three heroes behind her were giving him looks, but they didn't matter in the slightest right now.

He held it tightly. His palms started to sweat. The metal casing was heating up.

He figured that Skimpy Outfit-sensei was seeing what he was about to do, but it was too late.

The microphone blew up in his hands. The ensuing explosion basically fried the connection to the sound system, and one of the speakers even popped so loudly that it was probably more impactful than the explosion itself.

That certainly got people's attention. His classmates were all yelling at him about something or other. Skimpy Outfit-sensei too. Those three foreign heroes weren't saying anything though.

The crowd got all riled up for a few seconds until pack mentality settled in. No one really knew if they were supposed to be panicking for real, so they stopped screeching.

Silence was long gone now.

"Fight!"

That was possibly the loudest that he had ever yelled in his life, and that surely wasn't a claim to be made lightly. There wasn't a speaker system amplifying his voice anymore, but he liked to think that he was still heard in every way that mattered.

Silence returned.

All eyes are on me. All eyes should stay on me.

This rotten personality was the greatest asset belonging to Bakugou Katsuki.

The crowd was too far for him to care about right now. All that he could see was the first-year students gathered at his feet.

Some were catching flies with their mouths, but there were still some that heard his challenge for what it was.

He embraced the staring contest with each person that he had successfully instigated. Those that heard the one word that he uttered and instantly understood what he meant.

With how I am now, I was only able to do this much.

I'll show you all the hero that Bakugou Katsuki wants to be.