The common room of Class 1-A's dormitory had buzzed with energy well past their usual bedtime, a steady hum of laughter, ideas, and half-finished plans swirling around like a concert all their own. They had brainstormed until the hands of the clock pointed accusingly toward 1 AM—far later than Tenya was used to. By the end of the night, his posture remained rigid and proper as ever, but the dark circles under his eyes betrayed his growing fatigue. Staying awake so late was one thing, but staying up with such an unruly group, bouncing from one half-baked idea to another, felt like a trial of endurance he hadn't been prepared for.
In contrast, Fey seemed to be thriving on the chaos. She sat cross-legged on the common room floor, her notebook open in her lap and scattered pages of messy choreography notes dotting the carpet around her. With Mina at her side, the two had spent most of the night throwing out dance concepts that ranged from wildly impractical to borderline brilliant. The excitement radiating from Mina was infectious, and Fey had found herself swept up in it, sketching out more ideas than she could reasonably manage.
But even excitement couldn't completely mask Fey's nerves. While the others cracked jokes and threw pillows across the room in the name of brainstorming strategy, Fey's thoughts drifted elsewhere, her heart quickening with the weight of unspoken fears.
The concert sounded thrilling in theory—a chance to show off her talents and do something spectacular with her classmates. But what if she couldn't pull it off? What if her choreography failed, and the performance fell flat? Or worse—what if she became the weak link, dragging the entire project down? She nervously pinched at the pin feathers growing in the back of her neck as she scribbled more notes, trying to quiet the nagging voice that whispered that maybe this was too ambitious, too risky for her.
Still, the thought of working closely with Mina—of turning wild ideas into a performance that could ignite the stage—was enough to make her giddy with excitement. Fey clung to Mina's infectious enthusiasm like a lifeline, knowing that if she let go, the doubts shadowing her might swallow her whole.
Across the room, Tenya stifled a yawn behind a precise hand, willing himself to stay alert even as his vision blurred at the edges. It didn't matter that he was barely awake; he was determined to be present and to do his part. Fey's enthusiasm, even if tempered by nerves, hadn't escaped his notice. In fact, he'd found himself watching her more than he intended to, a quiet sort of admiration settling in as she leaned into the task with every bit of energy she could muster. It was just like her to dive headfirst into a challenge—equal parts fearless and anxious, stubbornly optimistic despite her own doubts.
By the time they finally called it a night, their once-organized brainstorming session had devolved into a hazy mix of half-formed plans and discarded paper cups. Tenya stood at the head of the group, clapping his hands sharply to signal the official end of the meeting—though the effect was somewhat undermined by the heavy slump of his shoulders and the glassy sheen in his tired eyes. Fey stifled a giggle, and he shot her a look that was equal parts exasperated and fond.
"Get some sleep, everyone," he said, his voice unusually soft. "We'll regroup tomorrow."
The following day felt like a blur of routine, the kind that lulled Class 1-A into a comfortable rhythm despite the monumental task now looming over them. Morning lectures on combat strategy bled into intense sparring sessions, and even though the looming School Festival lingered in the back of everyone's minds, there was no room to slack off during hero training. The teachers made sure of that.
Fey tried to stay focused as Mr. Aizawa's dry voice droned through a mid-morning lesson on urban rescue protocols, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the concert. Ideas for their choreography kept popping into her mind—her muscles practically twitching to move through the steps. But there was no time for improvising dance routines today. Instead, she went through the motions of class with her usual attentiveness, though the flicker of worry stayed nestled deep in her chest. Would she really be able to pull this off?
By the time their final class ended, exhaustion weighed heavy on the shoulders of every student, but there was a strange sort of excitement in the air, too. The kind of excitement that came from knowing that even after a long day of grueling training, there was still something important to look forward to.
The sun was already hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard as Class 1-A filtered out through the front doors of the academy. Fey stretched her arms above her head, savoring the cool autumn breeze that greeted them as they stepped outside. A few students walked ahead, chatting animatedly about the upcoming concert plans. Fey trailed somewhere in the middle of the group, trying to stay in step with Tenya and the rest of their friends, with Mina rambling about costume ideas involving glitter and glow sticks.
Just as they reached the courtyard, Fey's attention was snagged by a conversation happening a little way off to the side. Two students—second years, if she had to guess—stood leaning casually against a wall, their arms crossed and expressions painted with smug amusement. She wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but their voices carried just enough for her to catch the gist of their conversation.
"Did you hear about Class 1-A's big plan for the festival?" one of them sneered. "A concert. Can you believe that?"
The other scoffed, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "They're probably hoping everyone will forget they're the reason we're stuck in these dorms in the first place."
"Right?" The first one laughed. "Honestly, I kind of hope it blows up in their faces. It'd serve them right for thinking they could pull something like that off. Heroes-in-training or not, they always act like the world revolves around them."
Fey's stomach sank, a strange tightness coiling in her chest. It wasn't the first time she'd overheard resentment like this—it was no secret that many students from the non-hero courses resented the mandatory dorm system, and they didn't bother hiding their frustrations. Fey had witnessed their discontent firsthand the day before, when those students had cornered her in front of her classroom to bully her.
But hearing those words now—directed so specifically at their concert—hit a little harder than she expected. She knew this performance was supposed to be something special, a way to show the other courses that Class 1-A wasn't just about battles and danger, but about heart and unity, too. Yet here were these students, ready to see them fail before they'd even had a chance to begin.
Movement caught her eye from the edge of the courtyard. As Fey turned, she found herself locking eyes with Bakugou. He must have been lingering toward the back of the group, just as she had, because it was clear from his expression that he had overheard every word of the other students' conversation.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Bakugou's sharp, crimson gaze was unreadable, but there was a fire behind it—a flicker of something dangerous, something Fey had grown all too familiar with during her time in Class 1-A. She knew that look. It was the same expression he wore right before he threw himself into a fight he refused to lose.
They weren't friends, not by any stretch of the imagination. Fey had always found him too abrasive, too explosive in every sense of the word. And Bakugou, for his part, didn't seem to think much of her, either. He rarely spoke to her unless absolutely necessary, and when he did, it was usually with thinly veiled impatience and insults.
But right now, there was a strange, silent understanding between them. They both knew what they had heard, and neither needed to say it aloud: failure wasn't an option. Not just because of the concert, but because neither of them could stomach the idea of giving these critics the satisfaction of being right.
Bakugou's eyes narrowed just slightly, as if to say, You better not screw this up. Fey stiffened instinctively in response, her lips pressing into a thin line. Typical Bakugou. Even in a moment like this, he somehow managed to come off as both accusatory and unreasonably confident—like he expected perfection from her whether she was capable of it or not.
Before she could think of anything to say (not that she particularly wanted to), Bakugou let out a low scoff and turned on his heel, shoving his hands into his pockets. His stride was brisk, purposeful, as he peeled off from the rest of the group and headed toward the dorms on his own. Fey watched him go, a complicated knot of emotions twisting in her chest. For all his arrogance, he had the same goal in mind that she did: they were going to prove everyone wrong. No matter what.
"Fey?"
The familiar voice pulled her back to the present. She turned to see Tenya standing a few steps ahead, his brows drawn together in mild concern. Most of their classmates had already crossed the courtyard, drifting further toward the dorms, but Tenya had lingered behind when he realized she wasn't with them.
"Are you alright?" he asked, adjusting his glasses with a quick flick of his hand. "You seem preoccupied."
Fey blinked a few times, forcing herself to shake off the remnants of her encounter with Bakugou. "Yeah, sorry," she replied, falling into step beside her boyfriend. She could see the worry in the way he studied her—sharp but soft, like he was trying to decipher what had pulled her away from the group without prying too deeply.
"I'm fine," she added, more to reassure herself than him. "Just… thinking."
Tenya didn't press her, though his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, as if committing this small sliver of her uncertainty to memory.
"Let's catch up to the others," he said finally, his tone gentle but firm, like he was inviting her forward without leaving room for hesitation.
Fey nodded, brushing off the lingering weight of the overheard conversation and Bakugou's unspoken challenge. Whatever doubts had taken root today, she could untangle them later. Right now, she needed to focus. They had a concert to prepare, and there was no room for second-guessing.
Together, she and Tenya started back toward the dorms, hands entwined, the warmth of his steady presence easing the tightness in her chest ever so slightly.
Once they arrived at the dorm, Class 1-A wasted no time assembling in the upstairs hallway on the girls' side, right in front of Jirou's room. The atmosphere buzzed with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty, though the absence of a few students—those who had been involved in the raid on the Shie Hassaikai compound—was noticeable. They had stayed behind for after-school classes, making up the time they'd missed during their work studies. Still, those who remained were determined to move forward, eager to bring their festival plans to life.
The students clustered together, instruments scattered around the hallway. A bass guitar rested on a stand near the wall, and an electric keyboard lay propped up on its stand beside a set of drums. Kyoka's door was slightly ajar, the faint hum of speakers and wires buzzing from within.
As the last stragglers found their places, Tenya clapped his hands together sharply, drawing everyone's attention. He stood at the center of the group, posture stiff and formal as always, though the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced than usual following last night's preparations.
"The School Festival is one month away," he announced, his serious tone carrying through the chatter and instantly commanding the room's focus. "We don't have much time. We need to make decisions right now and assign roles efficiently."
He swept his gaze over his classmates, assessing their expressions with the same precision he used during tactical briefings. Fey couldn't help but admire the way he effortlessly shifted into leader mode. His earnestness made him a bit rigid at times, but it was also reassuring—like no matter how chaotic things got, Tenya would find a way to organize it all.
"First, we need to pick out a song, right?" Hagakure chimed in, her voice bright and easy, "What should we do?" Her invisible form swayed slightly, as if inviting suggestions from the group.
Scratching the back of his head, Ojiro gave a sheepish shrug. "I don't know much about popular music, so... I'll leave that up to you guys."
"It's gotta be something hype!" Denki added, crossing his arms with an exaggerated nod. "If it's for the whole school, we need a song that gets people moving! Something everyone can sing along to, right?"
Sero leaned back on his elbows with a lazy grin. "Yeah. Something with a good beat. No slow stuff."
"Yeah! So we can really get dooownn!" Mina added with a little shimmy, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she pumped her fists in the air. "If we're gonna do this, we gotta bring the energy!"
Jirou, standing pensively beside her keyboard, tilted her head in thought as the suggestions bounced back and forth. She twirled one of her earlobe jacks around her finger absentmindedly, the way she always did when she was in deep concentration. "Hmm... okay, so we need something upbeat and catchy..."
She trailed off for a moment, her gaze scanning the circle of her friends, each of them wearing various degrees of excitement, confusion, or amusement. Then she gave a small, confident nod.
"With those things in mind," Jirou began, "I think I know what would make the most sense: a hardcore four-on-the-floor club song. It'll be like a rave meeting rock show. As for dance music, EDM would probably be the most popular, but…" Her eyes surveyed the instruments scattered around the hall. "You guys want to play instruments, right?"
There was a beat of silence as her classmates processed her words, most of them staring at her with bemused, slightly lost expressions. With a slight sigh, Jirou folded her arms and tapped her foot lightly against the floor. "Anyone here know how to play an instrument? If we wanna perform live, we'll need musicians for the band."
Her question hung in the air for a moment. Silence stretched awkwardly across the group as everyone exchanged uneasy glances, some shifting on their feet or scratching their heads. No one seemed eager to volunteer.
Jirou pinched the bridge of her nose, dragging out an exasperated sigh. "Oookay…" she muttered, a dry edge creeping into her tone. "Well, I'd say that drums are the backbone of any band. I'd take on the responsibility myself, but honestly, I main the guitar, not percussion. Teaching a beginner to play an instrument while practicing myself would be impossible to do in just one month."
She scanned the room one last time, hoping someone would miraculously volunteer. The silence dragged on, thick and awkward, until Kaminari's face suddenly lit up like a bulb flickering back to life.
"Heyyy!" Denki exclaimed, whipping around to face Bakugou with a mischievous grin. "Didn't you accidentally admit your parents made you take music lessons when you were a kid?"
Their gazes all turned towards Bakugou, including Fey's. She tilted her head slightly, eyebrows raising in surprise. It was weird to imagine him doing anything in his childhood that didn't involve terrorizing other kids or blowing things up. But now that she thought about it… it weirdly made sense. Drums, especially—an instrument loud, intense, and unforgiving. The instrument seemed like a perfect fit, honestly.
Before Bakugou could snap back, Sero grabbed a pair of drumsticks from the nearby percussion set and held them out with a grin. "C'mon, take a seat, man. Show us what you've got!"
Bakugou glared at him, his crimson eyes narrowing into sharp slits. "Tch. In your dreams, moron." He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and turned away, looking thoroughly disinterested.
Fey exchanged a quick glance with Sero, a mischievous glint passing between them. Her lips curled into a sly smile. "Riiight," she drawled, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Bet they're too hard for you, huh?"
Sero leaned into the joke, unable to resist. "Nah, he's just scared he'll mess up and make a fool of himself in front of everyone," he teased with a dramatic shrug.
Bakugou's body went rigid, tension crackling off him like static. Fey swore she could see a vein threatening to burst on his forehead. For a moment, she thought he might just blow off the whole thing—but then he growled, low and dangerous, like a fuse burning toward ignition.
Without a word, Bakugou spun on his heel, snatched the drumsticks from Sero's outstretched hand, and stomped over to the drum set with all the subtlety of a thunderstorm.
He dropped onto the stool with a huff, adjusted the height with a quick twist, and gave the drums a testing tap. Then, with that same fiery determination he brought to everything, he launched into a rhythm—fast, sharp, and precise.
The hallway filled with the steady thrum of bass and the crisp clatter of cymbals, each beat landing perfectly in time. Bakugou's hands moved with surprising finesse, every stroke controlled yet brimming with force, as if the drumsticks were just extensions of his explosive nature.
Fey found herself staring, a little stunned despite herself. She hadn't expected him to actually be good—let alone this good. Around her, the rest of the class looked equally taken aback, their earlier smirks replaced by expressions of genuine surprise. Even Sero, usually quick with a joke, stood with his mouth slightly agape.
Fey folded her arms, biting back a reluctant smile. "Huh," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Sero to hear. "Guess the guy can actually play."
Bakugou shot her a glare mid-beat, as if he'd somehow heard her over the noise. Typical. He wouldn't let anyone think for even a second that he wasn't capable—of anything.
With one final crash of the cymbals, Bakugou brought the impromptu performance to an abrupt end, tossing the drumsticks back toward Sero with an air of smug finality.
"Good enough for you, dumbasses?" he snapped, rising from the stool and shoving his hands back into his pockets like none of it had even fazed him.
For a moment, the hallway remained eerily silent, everyone frozen in disbelief. Fey stifled a chuckle, the corner of her lips quirking upward. It wasn't often that Bakugou left people speechless—but, apparently, slaying it on the drums was one way to do it.
Then, as if someone flipped a switch, the silence broke. A chorus of excited voices erupted, filling the corridor with cheers and laughter.
"That… was killer!" Jirou exclaimed, her voice filled with awe. Her eyes sparkled with an appreciation only another musician could truly understand.
"He's so good!" Mineta piped up, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"That settles it!" Denki declared, striking a triumphant pose with his hands on his hips. "Bakugou's gotta be our drummer!"
The enthusiasm spread like wildfire—except Bakugou, standing dead center in the storm of praise, wasn't having any of it. His scowl deepened, and the sharp glare he shot at his classmates instantly cut their celebrations short.
"Hah? No way am I getting on that stupid stage," he growled, the finality in his voice striking like a thunderclap.
The hallway fell into stunned silence again, the shift in mood so jarring it felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over everyone's heads. Jirou, looking equally perplexed, stepped towards Bakugou. "Come on, Bakugou… Do it! If we pull this off, everyone'll have a great time!" she said, her voice tinged with desperation.
His shoulders tensed, jaw clenching tight as he kept his back to her. "Don't you get what's gonna happen?" He spat the words like they left a bitter taste in his mouth. "I'll spell it out for you: we're doing this because we wanna let the other courses blow off some steam, right? But we're the ones that caused their stress to begin with. We're just trying to make ourselves feel better."
The weight of his words crashed over the group like a tidal wave. Every pair of eyes locked on Bakugou as he whirled around to face them, his fiery gaze sweeping over his stunned classmates. "This is gonna seem like a slap in the face from the people they can't stand!"
His words landed with a heavy, uncomfortable thud. Fey felt her heart drop into her stomach. She glanced away, studying the floor tiles as a knot of guilt twisted tighter in her chest.
Hagakure broke the silence first, her invisible figure shifting with frustration. "Don't be rude!" she exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air, though only the sleeve of her shirt gave away the gesture. "We're just trying to help!"
Her outburst, though well-meaning, bounced off Bakugou like water off stone. He shot her a glare sharp enough to cut steel, his lip curling in a sneer.
"Yeah, that kind of thinking is exactly what I'm talking about!" he barked, voice edged with irritation. His gaze swept over them again, eyes crackling with barely restrained fury.
He wasn't wrong.
Fey swallowed against the knot tightening in her throat. She'd overheard what the second-year students from general studies had said earlier—just like Bakugou. Those bitter, resentful voices echoed in her mind, every word dripping with blame. Most of the non-hero course students blamed those of the hero course for everything that had gone wrong. They saw them as the reason the entire school had been forced into dorm life, the reason their routines had been completely upended. Some had even gone so far as to imply that Class 1-A had invited trouble, as if the villains attacking them during the Summer Training Camp had somehow been their fault.
This concert was supposed to be an olive branch, a way to bridge that widening gap between courses. But Bakugou's words stung with a brutal truth. Was this really about unity? Or was it just a way for them to make peace with their own guilt, to prove—maybe only to themselves—that they were more than the disasters that followed them everywhere they went?
The spark of excitement that had electrified the hallway earlier fizzled out, leaving behind a heavy, awkward silence. Fey could feel it, thick and stifling, weighing on every one of her classmates as they shifted uncomfortably beneath Bakugou's glare. What had started as a burst of enthusiasm now felt like a crumbling foundation, shaken under the weight of doubt.
From the back of the group, Tenya's voice broke the uneasy silence, steady but uncertain. "I see… Perhaps Bakugou is right. Did we really think this through?"
Fey's heart thudded painfully against her ribs as she clenched her hands into fists at her sides. This was the fear she hadn't dared to admit out loud—the fear that had gnawed at the back of her mind from the start. What if all their good intentions backfired spectacularly? What if, instead of easing tensions, they only made things worse?
As she wrestled with her thoughts, a subtle movement caught her eye. From the edge of the group, Todoroki stepped forward, his calm demeanor a striking contrast to the tension swirling around them. His mismatched gaze locked on Bakugou, unflinching and resolute.
"You didn't help us decide what to do," Shoto said, his tone as steady and cool as the winter air. "So you don't get to complain now."
His words weren't loud, but the weight behind them was undeniable. For a moment, the tension between them thickened, like the calm just before a thunderstorm. Bakugou let out a sharp huff, turning his head away as if trying to shake off the frustration clawing at him. His shoulders tensed, fists buried deep in his pockets, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and simmering with barely-restrained anger.
"Doesn't all this piss you off?" he growled, his words jagged and raw. "It's not like we wanted villains to show up and screw things up for everyone. Why do we have to bend over backward worrying about how these weaklings feel?"
He spun back to face the group, eyes blazing with fury, as if daring someone to argue. His scowl deepened, twisting his face into a storm of frustration.
"Stop trying to get on their good side! We're not here to make friends! We're here to fight!" His voice rose with every word, the intensity in his tone making a few of his classmates flinch. "If we're putting on a show, then we can't hold anything back!"
The fire in his words was palpable now, crackling through the hallway like sparks waiting to ignite. A dangerous grin pulled at the corner of his lips as he lifted his hand, dragging his thumb slowly and deliberately across his neck in a menacing gesture.
"Let's murder everyone in U.A. with killer music!"
The wild glint in his eye dared anyone to challenge his declaration. It was Bakugou at his most unfiltered—raw, relentless, and uncompromising. There was no subtlety, no room for diplomacy or second-guessing. In his mind, the only way to do anything was to go all in—no half-measures, no apologies.
Fey blinked, stunned by the sheer intensity of Bakugou's outburst. As usual, his words came wrapped in jagged edges, cutting deeper than they needed to. But beneath all that fury—beneath the bravado—she could feel the truth hiding in his declaration like a flickering flame waiting to ignite. And as much as she hated to admit it, she understood exactly what he was trying to say.
It wasn't just anger that fueled Bakugou's words; it was frustration. Frustration at the unfairness of their situation. At the judgment from the other students. At the suffocating weight of expectations and guilt pressing down on all of them like an unrelenting storm. The same frustrations she'd felt gnawing at the edges of her own mind.
And in his own explosive, unfiltered way, Bakugou had hit on something important.
This festival wasn't about making amends or proving their worth to people who resented them—it was about reminding everyone, including themselves, of who they really were. They couldn't undo what had happened, and they couldn't force the other students to forgive them. But they could take back control of the narrative. And that was what Bakugou was trying—however poorly—to convey.
Fey inhaled slowly, feeling the knot of tension that had been twisting in her chest begin to loosen. Since the start of the meeting, she had mostly been keeping to herself , but this time, she couldn't keep quiet.
"Listen," she said, her voice cutting through the lingering silence. Every eye turned to her, and she felt the familiar flutter of nerves stir in her gut. But she pushed them aside, taking a step forward. "He's right about one thing. We can't force anyone to like us. And yeah, maybe some people are going to see this as an excuse to make themselves feel superior—like we're just doing this to cover up our mistakes. But…" She paused, searching for the right words. "That's not the reason we're doing it."
The weight of her classmates' attention pressed on her, but it was reassuring somehow. They were listening, and that was all she needed to keep going.
"We're not doing this to prove anything to anyone else," she continued, her voice growing more confident. "We're doing this because we want to, and to show them what we're really made of. We've been through a lot, and yeah, not everyone's going to understand what it means to carry that weight... but that doesn't mean we have to pretend we're something we're not."
She glanced at Bakugou, her gaze steady and knowing. "And that means, if we're going to put on a show, we need to go all in. No holding back, no second-guessing. Not to apologize, not to make friends, but to show everyone who we really are."
For a moment, there was only silence as her words settled over the group. She could see her classmates processing what she'd said—the tension slowly giving way to understanding, then resolve.
In the stillness that followed Fey's words, Tenya found himself standing a little straighter, his heart unexpectedly swelling with pride. His sharp mind, always so focused on structure and rules, recognized something essential in this moment: Fey had done what a true leader does. She hadn't just spoken up—she'd bridged the gap between them all. She took Bakugou's rough-edged challenge and shaped it into something the rest of them could rally behind.
She didn't need to argue with him or contradict him. Instead, she chose to understand him—and in doing so, she gave his frustration a purpose that the rest of the class could follow.
That kind of maturity wasn't easy, especially when it came to dealing with someone as volatile as Bakugou. Tenya knew firsthand how Bakugou's bluntness could rub people the wrong way—himself included. But Fey had set aside her own feelings, seeing the bigger picture when it mattered most. She wasn't just patching over the tension; she was guiding all of them towards a better solution. And for that, Tenya felt a rush of gratitude and admiration.
He adjusted his glasses, a gesture both habitual and grounding, as a warm but subtle smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Well said," Tenya murmured quietly, though his words carried weight. His deep, clear voice was like the final piece that cemented Fey's speech.
Fey turned her head slightly toward him, her expression soft with surprise. There was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, as if she wasn't used to being acknowledged in that way. She blinked, a faint flush coloring her cheeks as she gave him a small, appreciative nod. "Thanks, Tenya," she murmured, her voice low but genuine.
Tenya allowed himself a moment to savor the quiet satisfaction of seeing his classmates' spirits lift. The tension from earlier, once so stifling, was gone. The spark of excitement had been reignited, this time burning stronger and more focused. It wasn't just Fey's speech that had done it—it was the fact that they were starting to believe in themselves again.
And Tenya knew, more than anything, that believing in themselves was the first step to succeeding at anything.
He cleared his throat and clapped his hands together in a brisk, deliberate motion. "Now, with that settled," he said, shifting seamlessly back into his usual mode of operation, "let's continue to discuss roles and responsibilities. We don't have time to waste!"
Jirou grinned, her earlier frustration now entirely gone. "Back to business, huh, Iida?"
"Precisely!" Tenya shot back, adjusting his glasses once more, though his grin mirrored hers now.
The group's spirits were visibly lifting, their voices roaring with enthusiastic excitement. They weren't just planning a concert anymore. They were setting the stage to show the entire school exactly who they were.
"Hey, so… I forgot to mention this earlier," Momo's voice cut through the excited chatter, her usual poise softened with a hint of shyness. She turned toward Jirou, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "But as part of my classical education, I've studied the piano since I was just a little girl. I'd be happy to play in the band if you need me."
A chorus of enthusiasm followed almost instantly.
"Aww yeah!" Mina squealed, throwing her arms around Momo's shoulders in an exuberant hug. She pulled her close, practically bouncing with excitement. "Momo's totally gonna rock those keyboards!"
"Having someone on synths is perfect for the dance vibe we're going for," Jirou agreed, her smile warm and encouraging. "And honestly? I think you'd be perfect for the gig!"
Momo's face lit up with joy, a rare brightness overtaking her usually composed expression. She pumped both fists in the air, her confidence growing with the support of her friends. "I'll make sure to do my very best!"
Mina's grin faltered for only a second before she let out an exaggerated groan. "Aww, I wanted all the girls to get together for a big choreo number…" She pouted dramatically, slumping against Momo as if all her dreams had been dashed. After a moment, though, she perked back up with a playful grin. "But you'll still look super cute on stage!"
Jirou chuckled at Mina's antics, folding her arms as she tapped one of her earphone jacks against her chin thoughtfully. "Alright, so we've got drums and keyboards down. My specialty is the bass." She gave a quick fist pump, the excitement building again. "That just leaves guitars and vocals!"
Ojiro stepped forward, his expression calm but curious. "So… does that mean everyone else will be dancing?"
Fey instinctively scanned the remaining students who hadn't signed up for instruments yet. She mentally tallied the number of potential dancers and realized with a jolt just how many people were left. A wave of anxiety crept up her spine. Could she really pull off choreography for the whole class? Fey fidgeted slightly, uncertainty gnawing at the edges of her excitement. The last thing she wanted was to let everyone down.
Next to her, Tenya rested his chin thoughtfully between his thumb and index finger, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Hmm… I'm not sure this will be enough to fully energize the audience." His voice was low, almost as if he were trying to solve a puzzle aloud.
Before anyone could respond, Todoroki spoke up, his tone measured and calm. "In that video I showed you—"
Mina cut in, her voice bubbling with excitement. "We've gotta have special effects!" she blurted out, practically bouncing in place.
"Exactly," Todoroki answered, unfazed by the interruption.
"Special effects?" Sero echoed, tilting his head, his expression somewhere between curiosity and confusion.
Fey's lips curved into a knowing smile, her earlier anxiety starting to dissipate as a new idea took shape. "You know… stuff like lights, sparklers, confetti—things that'll really dazzle the audience." She gestured broadly with her hands, as if conjuring the image of their concert in the air. "We need to be extra if we want to set the right mood and get everyone fired up!"
Mina's eyes sparkled with delight as she grabbed Fey's arm, practically vibrating with excitement. "Ohhh! We could use those huge sparklers like they do at festivals! Or maybe even a smoke machine!" She spun around dramatically, already brainstorming more ideas. "What if we time the lights with the music? Ooh! And fireworks! Can we have fireworks?!"
Fey chuckled at Mina's infectious enthusiasm, her earlier doubts melting away as the conversation picked up momentum. As her classmates threw out ideas, she could feel the energy shift, like a spark catching kindling.
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Tenya's face at the mention of fireworks. He adjusted his glasses, his expression cautious. "Ahem… While the spectacle sounds thrilling, I fear it would be highly unwise to set off fireworks indoors, given that our performance will be held in the school gym."
Mina pouted, her shoulders sagging dramatically. "Boo, Iida, don't ruin the fun!"
"We could leverage some of our Quirks for the special effects instead," Fey suggested, a spark of inspiration lighting her features.
Mina's eyes widened with delight, her pout vanishing in an instant. "Ohhh, that's genius, Fey!" she exclaimed. "We could have Uraraka float Kirishima and Todoroki up into the air! And then—wait for it—Kirishima uses his Hardening Quirk to chop up an ice block Todoroki makes!" She threw her hands into the air, mimicking the motion of shards raining down. "It'll be like a shower of glittering ice falling from the ceiling! And Aoyama can be our human disco ball—his laser beam will bounce off the ice shards and make it look like stardust!"
Denki leaned forward with a grin. "Hey, it's just like the team-ups we were discussing in class the other day!"
The group burst into excited chatter, their imaginations running wild. Suddenly, Aoyama turned towards Mina and Fey, his eyes sparkling. "Moi? A disco ball?" His voice dripped with theatrical flair as he struck a dramatic pose, flourishing his hand as if he were already under a spotlight. "I was born for this role!"
Momo clasped her hands together, her eyes shining with excitement. "Yes! I can see it now—the entire gym will look spectacular!"
Tenya's usual seriousness gave way to enthusiasm, his fist shooting into the air with determined zeal. "Agreed! This is exactly what we needed to elevate the performance!"
Hagakure bounced on her toes, her invisible form brimming with energy. "We'll need a crew to work behind the scenes to make this all happen!" she said cheerfully, turning toward Mina with a grin in her voice.
Meanwhile, the sound of footsteps echoed from the stairwell, drawing the group's attention. Moments later, Midoriya, Kirishima, Uraraka, and Asui appeared at the top of the stairs, making their way down the hall toward Jirou's room.
"Hey, you guys," Kirishima called out, his voice carrying a noticeable weariness, though he still managed a toothy grin.
"Sorry we're so late," Midoriya added with an apologetic smile, rubbing the back of his neck. There were faint shadows under his eyes—a subtle but telling sign of just how exhausting the past few days had been.
Uraraka wasted no time making her way over to Fey and Mina, draping herself dramatically over Fey's shoulders with a playful groan. "We finally made up all the classes we missed during work studies," she explained, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Now we're free to help out for real!"
"Ribbit… we're so tired," Asui murmured, her voice low but carrying its usual calmness.
Despite their fatigue, there was a sense of relief in their presence, as if finally catching up with their classmates lifted a weight off their shoulders. Fey could feel some of her remaining tension ease—having the rest of the crew together made everything feel just a little more complete.
She glanced over her shoulder at Uraraka with a playful glint in her eye. Without warning, Fey grabbed Ochaco's wrists and gave her wings a soft flutter, lifting them both a few inches off the ground.
"Wha—?!" Uraraka yelped in surprise, her legs kicking slightly in midair.
Fey couldn't help but snicker mischievously at the startled expression on her friend's face, her laughter light and infectious. "Just making sure you're not falling asleep on me, 'Chaco!" she teased, her wings giving another playful beat before gently setting them both back down.
As the girls both dissolved into giggles, a soft laugh from nearby caught Fey's attention. She glanced over to see Midoriya chuckling quietly to himself, his gaze fixed on Uraraka with a fondness that was impossible to miss. His expression was subtle—almost absentminded—but the warmth in his eyes gave him away entirely.
Fey arched a brow, suppressing a knowing grin. How these two hadn't caught on to each other's feelings yet was beyond her. They practically radiated affection every time they were in the same room.
Uraraka, oblivious as ever, shot Fey a playful smile, brushing some hair from her eyes.
Midoriya quickly looked away, as if realizing he'd been caught staring, his face growing a little pink around the edges. Fey bit her lip to keep from teasing them and decided to let it go for the time being. They'd figure it out eventually—or at least she hoped so. In the meantime, there were more pressing matters at hand.
"So you guys already picked Bakugou and Yaoyorozu for the band?" Asui asked, her calm voice cutting through the buzz of conversation as she caught up with the others. "Who'll be singing, then? Isn't that the most important thing to decide?"
"Well... we haven't exactly figured that part out yet," Jirou admitted, raising her hands defensively as nervous beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She looked like she'd rather disappear into the floor than answer further questions.
"Huh? Doesn't it have to be you, Jirou?" Uraraka asked with a teasing grin, pointing her pinky finger directly at her.
The mention of her singing made Jirou recoil like someone had just been splashed with ice water. Her cheeks flushed, and more sweat trickled down the side of her face as every pair of eyes slowly turned her way. She shifted awkwardly under the growing weight of their collective expectations.
"G-guys... really, I-I'm not—"
Before she could finish protesting, Kirishima stepped in to save her from the spotlight—though perhaps not in the way she hoped. Grinning from ear to ear, he grabbed a nearby microphone like it was a trophy.
"Not to brag or anything," Kirishima announced with a wide, toothy grin, "but I'm a pretty awesome singer." With exaggerated flair, he lifted the mic to his lips and launched into an impromptu performance. "TOUGH GUY, CAPTAIN OF THE SHIP, STAND UP TALL, 'CAUSE YOU'RE THE MANLIEEEEEST!"
The room fell into stunned silence for a beat, save for the booming echoes of his voice bouncing off the walls.
"Whoa," Fey said, snickering as she gave him a playful thumbs-up. "Those are some seriously impressive pipes there, Kiri'."
"Umm… yeah…" Uraraka added, though her expression wavered somewhere between amusement and disbelief. "It's just… maybe not quite the right vibe we're going for?"
Fey gave a sympathetic shrug. "Fair point."
Not missing his chance to claim his spot in the spotlight, Mineta piped up with a sly grin. "Well, obviously, I should be the singer. Lead singers always get the chicks, after all!" Before anyone could stop him, he leaped up to snatch the microphone from Kirishima's hands.
The moment the mic hit his mouth, Mineta let out a high-pitched screech that could only be described as the sound of a very distressed animal—or maybe several animals in distress, all at once.
"RAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
Every student in the room cringed, hands flying to their ears in a desperate attempt to block out the auditory assault. Fey's wings twitched in protest behind her, and even Todoroki winced, his usually stoic face twisting slightly in discomfort.
"Ooooookay, that's enough of that," Fey declared, swooping in to pluck the microphone from Mineta's stubby hands before he could cause permanent damage to anyone's hearing. "I think we can all agree this is... not your calling."
Mineta crossed his arms with a pout, but Fey paid him no mind, wiping the mic on her sleeve with a little shake of her head. "We've got standards, Mineta. Basic ones, but standards nonetheless."
The room erupted into laughter, the playful energy kicking back into full swing. Even Jirou chuckled quietly, relieved to no longer be the center of attention—at least for now. But the reprieve was short-lived.
Aoyama seized the microphone with a dramatic flourish, raising it to his lips as if it were a sacred artifact. "Picture this!" he announced, sparkling with enthusiasm. "The singing disco ball!"
And with that, he unleashed a sound—if you could call it that—a long, wavering wail somewhere between a deflating balloon and a ghost trying to haunt a toaster.
Everyone froze for a beat, caught between confusion and disbelief.
"Is... is he serious right now?" Sero whispered to Kaminari, who could only shrug in response.
"Magnifique!" Aoyama declared, striking a pose as if he had just performed a magnum opus.
Before he could continue his sonic assault, Hagakure swooped in, mercifully snatching the microphone from his hand with the stealth of a stagehand saving a doomed performance.
"Yeah, no," she said quickly, giving Aoyama a pat on the shoulder. "We appreciate the enthusiasm, Yuga, but I'm with Ochaco on this one—It's gotta be you, Jirou!"
Mineta puffed out his chest in indignation, crossing his arms with a huff. "What? We just poured our hearts and souls into those auditions, and now you're telling me Jirou's somehow better than this?" He gestured vaguely toward himself, as if he were the epitome of musical brilliance.
Fey shot Mineta a look so sharp it could've sliced through steel. She crossed her arms and leaned slightly toward him, her expression radiating pure disapproval. "Quit your whining, Mineta. It's obvious you've never heard her sing before." She shook her head with a faint smirk, then turned toward Jirou, her eyes warm with encouragement. "C'mon, Kyoka. Show 'em what you're made of."
Kirishima grinned, pumping his fist into the air. "Yeah! Show us those pipes, Jirou!"
Jirou hesitated for a moment longer, fingers lingering on the microphone stand as if weighing the pressure of every expectant gaze. She took a steadying breath, her hands subtly trembling before they stilled at her sides. Slowly, she leaned in toward the mic, the soft hum of breath filling the room before she began.
Then, the music in her soul came alive.
Her voice wasn't just good—it was breathtaking. Clear and smooth, but with a soulful edge that sent shivers running down every spine in the room. It carried a rawness, a kind of restrained vulnerability that resonated deeply with everyone listening, as if she were quietly sharing pieces of herself with each note. Her voice wasn't overly flashy or forced—it was just honest. Each lyric she sang seemed to flow effortlessly, her voice rising and falling like a gentle tide, pulling the room along in its current.
Everyone froze, their expressions shifting from curiosity to sheer awe, as though they were witnessing something rare and unexpected. Kirishima's jaw hung slack, the ever-enthusiastic Mina blinked in disbelief, and even Bakugou's scowl softened ever so slightly, though he quickly masked it by shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.
Fey, standing off to the side, could only smile—not surprised in the least. She'd known from the moment she'd overheard Kyoka singing in the dorm showers late one night. Fey had stayed hidden by the door, heart fluttering in disbelief at the soft yet powerful melody spilling from Kyoka's lips. She hadn't dared interrupt, afraid to break the spell of her magnificent singing. Back then, she had been in awe of her raw talent, and now, hearing Kyoka sing openly in front of everyone, that same sense of wonder swelled in her chest.
As Kyoka hit a soft, lingering note, the room felt still—like the world itself had briefly paused to listen. Out of the corner of her eye, Fey noticed Tenya casting a glance in her direction, his expression one of pure astonishment. Her smile grew wider in response. For a moment, it was as if the music had created a bubble around them, holding them all together in quiet reverence.
And then, as her final note faded into silence, the moment burst and the room exploded with cheers.
"Woooo! That was amazing!" Kaminari whooped, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Oh my gosh, Jirou, you have such a sultry voice!" Mina gushed, bouncing on her toes as if she could barely contain herself.
Kirishima threw his arms up with a grin. "Rock star status confirmed!" he declared, pumping his fists in the air.
Even Todoroki, usually so reserved, gave a small nod of approval. "You have a truly wonderful gift."
Jirou, still standing at the mic, flushed under the weight of all the praise. She glanced down, rubbing her arm awkwardly, but there was no hiding the small, shy smile creeping across her face.
Fey clapped along with the others, her chest swelling with pride. Watching Kyoka stand there, looking both flustered and quietly pleased, felt like seeing the sun peek out after a storm. It wasn't just that her friend was talented—she had owned her moment, laid herself bare, and let her voice be heard.
"You really crushed it, Jirou," Fey whispered under her breath, knowing that, even if Kyoka didn't look her way, she'd feel the support.
Jirou gave a half-hearted, flustered wave as the group continued to shower her with compliments, her shy demeanor clashing adorably with the rockstar energy she had just delivered. She looked as if she wanted to melt into the floor, her cheeks glowing a light pink under all the attention.
"Alright! I'd say this makes it official!" Tenya declared proudly, throwing a fist into the air with all the gravitas of a coach announcing victory. "We have found our lead singer!"
"A-Alright, let's focus on something else for now," Kyoka stammered, fidgeting with the jack of her earphone cords, clearly desperate to escape the limelight. "We still need guitars. Two, at least."
"Oh yeah! Pick me!" Denki shot his hand up like a kid on a sugar high, practically vibrating with excitement. "It's so cool to play instruments!"
"LET ME STRUM!" Mineta bellowed dramatically, scrambling over Denki in a bid to claim the spotlight.
Bakugou's glare sharpened, cutting through the chaos like a knife as he stared directly at Kaminari. "Don't you dare volunteer unless you're gonna kill it, dimwit!"
"Yeah! I totally will!" Denki said with full confidence, grinning from ear to ear. Without missing a beat, he snatched a guitar off a nearby stand and started plucking at the strings. The result was surprisingly good, despite Kaminari's inexperience.
"The guitar is the star of every rock band!" he declared, fingers sliding nimbly over the frets in a way that made Jirou tilt her head back in surprise.
Meanwhile, Mineta grabbed the second guitar with determination, holding it awkwardly in front of him like he was wrestling with a much-too-large shield. His tiny arms strained as he attempted to stretch his fingers across the neck of the guitar, but no matter how much he wriggled, he couldn't quite reach the strings.
His expression twisted with frustration, and his movements became more desperate—like someone trying to unlock a door with the wrong key. He grunted, gritted his teeth, and even tried hooking his foot around the bottom of the instrument to gain some leverage, but to no avail.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he gave one final, futile stretch toward the strings. With a cry of anguish, he cast the guitar aside like a fallen warrior discarding his broken sword. "My fingers won't reach because of my character design!" he wailed dramatically, running off to the corner of the room. He slumped down into a miserable heap, curled into himself as if lamenting a great existential injustice.
The rest of the class could barely hold it together. Mina was doubled over, laughing so hard she had to brace herself against Momo's shoulder, while even Jirou couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from twitching upward.
Fey crossed her arms, biting back a grin. "A tragic tale," she said, mock-somberly. "Denied by the cruel, unfair laws of physics."
"You fought valiantly, Mineta," Kirishima called after him, giving a thumbs-up. "Manliest effort I've ever seen!"
"Truly the hero we didn't know we needed," Sero added, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
"Don't encourage him," Bakugou muttered, though even he looked mildly amused—if only at Mineta's expense.
As the group recovered from their fit of laughter, Fey's gaze drifted toward Tokoyami, who stood stoically off to the side, arms crossed. But his eyes kept flickering toward the guitar Mineta had discarded, the slightest tension in his posture betraying a silent desire to pick it up. It was subtle, but Fey could tell—he wanted to play. He just didn't have the nerve.
Fey slid closer to him, nudging his elbow with a gentle poke. When he glanced down at her, she raised her brows and gave him a pointed look, gesturing insistently toward the guitar with a tilt of her chin. Come on, just do it, her expression seemed to say.
Tokoyami's crimson eyes narrowed in resistance, but Fey knew him too well. She was probably the only one in their class who knew about his musical talent—something she had discovered one quiet evening while hanging out in his room. He had strummed a song for her on a whim, only after making her swear not to tell anyone. He hadn't played in years, he'd said, and lacked confidence in his abilities.
Now, under Fey's silent but determined encouragement, Tokoyami finally gave in. With a heavy sigh, he bent down, plucked the fallen guitar from the floor, and grabbed a pick from the nearby stand. The quiet anticipation in the room shifted as everyone noticed him standing there with the instrument in hand.
Then, with the flick of his wrist, Tokoyami began to play.
The sound that followed was nothing short of spellbinding—a haunting ballad, filled with intricate riffs and flowing chords. His fingers glided over the frets effortlessly, the notes weaving together like a melody carried on the wind. The room fell completely silent, all eyes now glued to him, captivated by the unexpected beauty of his performance.
"It's like that riff is speaking directly to my soul!" Kirishima exclaimed, voice thick with emotion as tears welled at the corners of his eyes.
Shoji stared, his expression hidden behind his mask but his voice betraying his disbelief. "You can play? Why didn't you say anything?"
Tokoyami's gaze remained fixed on the strings as his fingers continued to dance along the neck of the guitar. "I put down the axe when I was bested by the F chord," he murmured solemnly.
The poetic gravity of his words might have been too much if not for the fact that he delivered them with complete seriousness. He then turned his gaze toward Mineta, who was still sulking in the corner. "Mineta," Tokoyami intoned gravely, "if you can't play for yourself, then I will strum for you as well."
Mineta peeked out from his miserable huddle, scowling in Tokoyami's direction. "Do whatever you want, damn it! This is all so stupid. Let's just get this festival over with already." He huffed dramatically, burying his face deeper into his knees. "I hope all your nails break off," he grumbled under his breath.
Fey crossed her arms and shook her head, exasperated but unsurprised by Mineta's attitude. "Just leave him," she muttered, the corners of her mouth quirking up in mild amusement. "We're probably better off without him anyway."
Now that the band was officially assembled, a palpable excitement filled the room. Students buzzed with energy as they eagerly debated who would join the dance team and who would work on the special effects. Nearby, Fey overheard Sato animatedly chatting with Sero and Ojiro.
"I wanna be in the dance crew!" Sato exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air with infectious enthusiasm.
"Me too!" Ojiro replied, his voice just as vibrant. "I can move pretty well with my tail." He punctuated his statement with a flick of his tail and a confident thumbs-up.
"And I can use my tape to help with the special effects!" Sero chimed in, his cheerful tone adding to the lively atmosphere.
As Fey watched more of her friends enthusiastically volunteer for the dance crew, a slight blush crept up her cheeks. Her heart swelled with pride and anticipation. In the distance, she could hear Mina chatting with her boyfriend.
"Which team are you gonna be on, Iida?" she asked, her tone playful yet knowing.
"Why, the dance team, of course!" Tenya proclaimed, turning his attention toward Fey with a beaming smile that lit up his entire face.
Fey felt her cheeks heat even more at her boyfriend's declaration, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within her. Deep down, she had hoped he'd join the dance crew, but realistically, there had been little chance he'd choose anything else. After all, he didn't play any instruments, and his Quirk didn't lend itself to the special effects team.
The thought of teaching Tenya how to dance sent a thrill through her, mingling with the flutter of butterflies in her stomach. Would she be up to the task? She silently hoped she could guide him through the moves without turning their practice sessions into a comical disaster. Yet, that thought only fueled her excitement more.
With the room buzzing around them, Fey couldn't help but smile at Tenya, her heart racing at the prospect of dancing alongside him.