MURDER

Izuku lay spread out in a classic death pose. Red lubricant spread out on the wooden floor, and his body was covered in suspiciously hand-shaped explosion marks.

Iida had everyone assemble in the living room. Standing imposingly on the coffee table, he shouted out, "One of our own classmates was murdered in the dead of night! And with the new security features keeping everyone else out, the only possible culprits are in this very room! You could say…"

"Don't do it Iida!" Jirou shouted.

"There's an impostor among us!"

"Dammit Iida, that meme's years out of date! At least say we're in lethal company."

"But that game is about acquiring resources in a hostile environment for a merciless and uncaring corporate entity that sees its employees as disposable tools. It's a haunting and provocative look on the modern corporate culture and cautions against trusting any of the lack-witted companions you are saddled with."

"Setting aside the fact that you learned all the wrong lessons from that game, shouldn't we leave this to the teachers?"

"The teachers all took paid vacation and Nezu is conspicuously missing when we need him most like all good headmasters."

Iida hopped off the table and pointed fingers. "It could be you. Or it could be you. It could even be me! And until we find out who, nobody leaves."

Tsuyu ribbited. "I think we all know who did it."

Everyone turned to look at Bakugo. Bakugo hastily dusted ash off his hands and shouted, "Piss off. If I did it, I'd take full credit for saving us all from the impending robotic apocalypse."

"He's got us there."

"Well, if it wasn't you, then it must be someone else whose Quirk leaves burn marks. Someone, like Todoroki!"

Todoroki looked up from his bowl of cold soba. "My fire only comes from one hand," he pointed out. "There's left and right handprints on him."

"Egad, that's true!" Iida smacked his forehead. "But there's no other person in this class whose Quirk produces any kind of flame, except…" He stared down at his leg exhausts in horror. "It was me all along! I did it! I brutally assaulted our dear classmate, pushed him down the stairs with such ruthless violence that it tore him asunder and befouled his corpse by setting it aflame with handprints to disguise the evidence! Oh, how ashamed of myself I am!"

Jirou smacked Iida on the head. "It wasn't you either."

"But how could we know that? I could have amnesia, or an evil hidden personality, or-"

"Izuku's final message, written in his own blood."

On the floor by his hand, Izuku wrote, 'Iida did not do it.'

"I'm innocent?" Iida asked incredulously. "Oh, what joy I feel! No murder trial, no prison, no dropping the bar of soap and having my-"

The door flew open, and a man in a trench coat sauntered in. "Did someone say, 'only the great Sherlock Holmes could solve this'?"

Dead silence filled the room. "Uh… no?"

500

Meanwhile, at Fiji:

Present Mic took a sip of his pina colada and sighed contentedly. "Hey Aizawa, think they'll figure out who did it?"

"Hisashi, we'll be lucky to find the city still standing when we get back. Now pass me that sunscreen."