Chapter 36 Missing broccoli part two

It had been a week, a full, agonizing week since Izuku had vanished without a trace. The atmosphere in the old warehouse, which had once been a place of laughter and camaraderie, now hung heavy with tension and worry.

Mei paced back and forth across the concrete floor, her footsteps echoing in the vast, empty space. Every now and then, she would stop, pull out her phone, and check it again for any messages, but there was nothing. No calls, no texts, nothing to indicate where Izuku might have gone.

Himiko sat cross-legged on an old rug, twirling a knife absentmindedly between her fingers. Her usual playful demeanor was overshadowed by a frown, her eyes occasionally darting towards Mei and then away, as if she might find answers in the air around her.

Rumi was hunched over a makeshift table, poring over maps and notes, her forehead furrowed in concentration. "There has to be something we missed," she muttered to herself, tracing lines on a map with her finger. "A clue, a pattern, something…"

Eri sat quietly in a corner, clutching a stuffed toy tightly to her chest. She watched the others, her eyes wide and filled with unspoken questions. Every so often, she would whisper something to her toy, as if it could offer her comfort or perhaps even solutions.

The sound of the warehouse door sliding open abruptly cut through the tension. All heads turned as Aizawa, known to them as Eraserhead, stepped into the dimly lit space, his expression unreadable.

Mei was the first to react, her voice tinged with both relief and desperation. "Aizawa-sensei! Did you find anything? Any news about Izuku?"

Aizawa paused, letting the door shut behind him before he walked further into the room. His gaze swept over the group, taking in their anxious faces and the palpable worry in the air. "Nothing definitive," he admitted, and the room seemed to deflate a bit with his words. "But we're not giving up. We've got every available hero looking into his last known locations and contacts."

Himiko's grip tightened on her knife, her voice sharp. "And what are we supposed to do? Just sit here and wait?"

"There's more to it than just waiting," Aizawa replied, his tone firm. "You need to be ready, in case he comes back, or if we find out where he is. And staying sharp is how you'll do that."

Rumi stood up, her eyes meeting Aizawa's. "We've been training, keeping up with our exercises. But it feels useless when we don't even know what we're preparing for."

Aizawa walked over to the table, glancing at the maps and notes strewn about. "Preparation never goes to waste," he said quietly. "Keep training, keep looking for clues, keep supporting each other. That's what you can do now."

Eri suddenly stood up, walking over to Aizawa with a seriousness that seemed too large for her small frame. "Can you find him, Mr. Aizawa? Please, can you bring him back?"

Aizawa looked down at her, his usual stoic demeanor softening a bit. "Eri, I promise, we're doing everything we can. Izuku is strong, and smart, and he's not alone in this. We'll find him."

The group settled into an uneasy silence, each lost in their thoughts and fears. Mei returned to her pacing, Himiko resumed twirling her knife, Rumi went back to her maps, and Eri returned to her corner, her eyes now fixed on the doorway, as if hoping Izuku would walk through it at any moment.

As the hours stretched on, the tension began to give way to exhaustion. Aizawa watched them, his presence a silent reassurance. He knew they needed something more than promises, they needed hope.

And in that quiet warehouse, surrounded by maps, plans, and the heavy weight of waiting, hope was a hard thing to hold onto.

Aizawa's phone buzzed in his coat pocket just as the warehouse settled into another long silence. He reached for it, stepping away from the group without a word. The cold air outside hit his face as he slid the metal door open and walked a few feet into the lot. He glanced at the caller ID, Inko Midoriya.

He answered quietly. "It's me."

"Aizawa," Inko said, her voice low and worried. "Any news? Anything at all?"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, already feeling the familiar weight settling over his shoulders. "Nothing concrete yet. But we're doing the best we can. We've got people monitoring all known hideouts, every alley, every network. He'll turn up, Inko."

There was a pause on the other end, just soft breathing, then: "Do you… do you want to come over tonight? I can make some tea."

Aizawa looked up at the night sky, gray clouds rolling across the moonlight. "…Yeah. I'll head over now." He hung up the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket and beginning the walk to her apartment.

He'd been staying there for the past few nights, ever since Izuku disappeared. It was easier than sleeping in his apartment, since her house was nice and warm. Even though she was sad, she still kept that warm smile.

As he walked, he went over everything again. The League of Villains hadn't claimed credit. Shigaraki, the white-haired anomaly with the disintegration quirk, had said nothing when questioned days prior.

"If this was part of their plan," Aizawa muttered, his breath visible in the cold, "then even they're not sure what's going on." That was the most unsettling part. No ransom. No sightings. Just... gone.

He passed a small public park and sat down on the nearest bench, elbows on knees, hand dragging down his tired face. "Where are you?" he whispered, fingers curling near his jaw. "What the hell happened to you?"

The warehouse

Back at the warehouse, the air was no lighter.

The girls had tried, emphasis on tried, to keep themselves distracted. Rumi had booted up the console, loading a local co-op game. Eri sat with a controller that was clearly unplugged, but nobody said anything. She giggled every time she pushed a button, pretending to shoot pixelated enemies that weren't on screen.

Rumi sat close to the monitor, brows furrowed. A map lay on her lap, and every so often, she would pause the game to mark a new spot. Red circles, crossed-off buildings, hand-drawn notes. "That alley was a bust," she muttered. "And the warehouse on 8th… empty."

"You keep marking all these places," Himiko said, brushing out her fox ears and flicking them for fluff. "But it's like he vanished. Just… poof."

"He's not dead," Rumi replied, her voice steely. "I'd feel it if he was."

Mei sat at her workbench near the far side of the warehouse, goggles pushed up on her forehead. Her hands hovered above a half-finished invention, some kind of small drone with a mounted scanner. She tried to focus, but every few minutes, she would jerk back suddenly, staring at her hands.

She'd feel the oil slick against her palm and swear it was blood. Her brain flashed back to the fight. To the Nomu. To Izuku collapsing, panting, bleeding, protecting her.

Each time she flinched, she'd clench her teeth and whisper, "It's not blood. It's just oil. It's just oil."

Himiko noticed, but didn't say anything. Instead, she tossed her brush onto the couch and walked over, draping her arms around Mei's shoulders from behind. "Don't push too hard. You're not gonna build your way out of this."

Mei sniffed and leaned back slightly. "I know. But if I stop moving, I'll fall apart."

Eri crawled onto the couch and hugged her stuffed bear tighter, looking at the others. "When's Papa coming back?"

Nobody answered right away.

Rumi exhaled through her nose and stood. "I'm going out again tonight. Another patrol. There's a couple tunnels I haven't checked yet."

"You want backup?" Himiko asked, narrowing her golden eyes, her tone half-serious, half-teasing.

Rumi slung her jacket over her shoulders, not even turning back. "No. I move faster on my own. You'd just hold me back."

Himiko blinked. For a moment, her expression faltered, just slightly, before she covered it with a sly smile. "Tch. Fine, Little Miss Rabbit. But you better find him," she said, forcing a chuckle. "Or I'm making you wear a collar."

No one laughed. Not Eri. Not Mei. The joke fell flat, hitting the air with a dull thud.

Himiko sighed and flopped back onto the couch, dragging Mei down with her. "Let's just chill for now, okay? Sit down. Game night. Something dumb."

Mei didn't resist. She set her tools aside and picked up a controller, wiping the sweat, or maybe tears, from under her goggles.

Eri crawled onto the couch between them, and Himiko handed her the smaller controller. "Racing game, squirt. You better not beat me again or I'm stealing your snacks."

The game loaded, colors flashing on the screen, fast-moving cars zipping along wild tracks. They played, shouted, laughed, or tried to. But it was clear their hearts weren't really in it. Every explosion or power-up felt a little quieter than usual. Every victory, a little hollow.

Meanwhile, Rumi leapt from rooftop to rooftop, her eyes scanning alleys, backstreets, rooftops. Her coat flapped behind her, her breathing steady, focused. Determined.

But as the minutes stretched into hours and the cold crept in under the moonlight, frustration mounted.

She ducked into a system dungeon that had popped up in the middle of the park — an old sewer-like ruin filled with snarling orcs and lumbering beasts. She tore through them like a storm, her fists cracking skulls, her legs breaking jaws, eyes glowing with fury.

A fireball flew past her shoulder, she ducked, pivoted, and shattered the caster's arm with a clean kick.

Another orc lunged, and she grabbed its face and slammed it into a wall, snarling as green blood sprayed across the floor.

By the time the dungeon collapsed behind her in a burst of blue particles, her fists were steaming and her teeth clenched so tight her jaw ached.

She screamed.

A raw, animal sound that echoed through the night. Not from pain, but from helplessness.

Eventually, she made her way back toward her old apartment complex, a crumbling, half-abandoned tower on the edge of town. The moment she stepped into the stairwell, the memories came flooding back.

He stood here. Right here. And saved her from this apartment and her loneliness. He smiled like an idiot afterward.

She clenched her fist and punched the wall. Crack. Concrete chipped. Her knuckles bled.

She went door to door, asking quietly, then louder, if anyone had seen a boy matching Izuku's description. No one had. Some shrugged. Others closed their doors with mumbled apologies. No leads.

Finally, she landed on a rooftop under the dim light of a flickering street lamp, squatting near the edge, looking over the city like a predator hunting something she couldn't name. Her chest rose and fell with silent rage.

Then—soft hums filled the air.

A glowing figure descended from above like a star coming to rest. Nejire Hado, with her gentle smile and trademark curls, landed beside her like she belonged there.

Rumi narrowed her eyes. "How did you find me?"

Nejire held up her phone. "The pink-haired one told me where you were headed. She was worried. Said it was getting late."

Rumi scoffed, standing. "I'm fine."

"You're not," Nejire said simply, walking up to her.

Rumi turned to leave.

But Nejire stepped forward and, without a word, wrapped her arms around her from behind. Tight.

"Stop," Nejire whispered. "It's okay. We're gonna find him. He's coming back. I promise."

Rumi stiffened, her hands curling into trembling fists.

"I know you love him," Nejire said softly. "It's okay. We all do. But I see it in your eyes. You miss him in a way the others don't. You blame yourself. You think you should've been there."

Rumi broke.

The dam shattered.

Tears rolled down her cheeks before she even realized it, her shoulders shaking as she fell forward into Nejire's arms, burying her face in the crook of her neck. "I'm supposed to be strong… I'm supposed to protect them… I let him walk away. I didn't stop him…"

"You were all doing your best," Nejire whispered, stroking her back. "And he's stronger than you think. He's not gone. He's just… out of reach for now."

Rumi sobbed quietly, the sound breaking the stillness of the rooftop. There was no pride here, no performance, just raw grief, loss, and fear.

They stayed like that for a long while, two heroines under the moonlight, holding each other as the city slept around them.

"I'm a third-year, Nejire," Rumi's voice broke through the silence, her words sharp as glass. "I'm supposed to be the senior. I should have seen the signs, done something. I should've been more vigilant."

Nejire listened, her expression somber, understanding the weight of leadership Rumi felt pressing down on her.

"The first three days are critical in any disappearance," Rumi continued, her voice rising with each word, a crescendo of frustration and guilt. "And what did we do? We assumed he was training, that he was off being a hero. But he's out there alone, probably fighting, bleeding…" Her hands clenched into fists. "And we can't even help him!"

Her shout echoed into the night, a raw sound that seemed to cut through the cold air and pierce the calm facade Nejire maintained.

Nejire reached out, her hands gently grasping Rumi's shoulders. "Rumi, it's going to be okay. We'll find him."

Rumi shook her head, her eyes fierce with unshed tears. "You don't know that! You don't know anything!" Her voice cracked, "How can you stand there and promise that?"

Nejire's grip tightened, her own resolve strengthening as she faced Rumi's despair. "Because we have to believe it. We have to hold onto hope, or else we've already lost him."

Rumi's breath hitched, her shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of her. "Himiko's trying to keep us all together… trying to stay positive. But I'm not like him, Nejire. I'm not kind. I'm not…"

"You are strong, Rumi. You're doing everything you can," Nejire assured her, pulling her into a firm embrace.

Rumi's resistance faded, and she allowed herself to be held, her head resting against Nejire's shoulder. "Mei's still haunted by the attack. She jerks away from her own inventions as if they're covered in blood. And Eri… every time I see her, she asks if I found her Papa. And every night, I have to tell her no. I didn't find him."

The words seemed to shatter the last of Rumi's defenses, and her knees buckled. Nejire caught her, gently lowering them both to the ground, sitting on the rooftop with Rumi cradled against her.

"Why does every good thing in my life get taken away?" Rumi whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind.

Nejire held her tightly, her voice steady and sure. "He's going to come back, Rumi. And when he does, he'll need his Rabbit. He'll need you to be strong."

Rumi's teeth gritted, a tear finally escaping, tracing a cold path down her cheek. "Fine. Let's go home. I need to be there if he comes back tonight."

Together, they stood, Nejire supporting Rumi's weight as they made their way down from the rooftop. The night had deepened, the city below them a maze of lights and shadows, reflecting Rumi's turbulent emotions.

As they reached the warehouse, Nejire made sure Rumi was safe inside among her friends before she turned to leave. "Take care of each other," she called over her shoulder, her figure retreating into the darkness.

In the tension-filled warehouse, Rumi's return initially brought a wave of relief. Yet, that relief quickly gave way to the stark reality of another day without Izuku. Rumi's announcement hung heavily in the air, her voice thick with remorse. "I'm sorry... I couldn't find him again."

The room fell silent, the only sounds were the soft, despairing sighs and the occasional shuffling of feet. Everyone's eyes were downcast, staring at nothing, lost in their own thoughts of fear and frustration.

Mei broke the silence, her voice soft but carrying a weight that seemed too heavy for her to bear. "It's like we're mourning him," she said, the last word trailing off into a whisper as if she was afraid to give it more power.

Rumi reacted with a visceral snap. Before anyone could grasp the situation, she had crossed the room, her hands wrapping tightly around Mei's throat. The room exploded into chaos. "We are not mourning him!" she shouted, her face contorted with a mix of anger and pain. "He's alive!"

Instantly realizing the horror of her actions, Rumi released her grip and stumbled backward, her eyes wide with shock at her own behavior. "I... I'm sorry," she stammered, her hands trembling.

Eri, who had been watching with wide, terrified eyes, burst into tears, retreating into a corner of the couch. Himiko, who had half-risen to intervene, stopped mid-motion as Rumi released Mei. The tension could be cut with a knife.

Rumi, breathing heavily, her chest heaving with emotional overload, apologized again. "I need to get some air," she muttered, barely audible over Eri's quiet sobs. She turned and walked briskly out of the warehouse, pushing the heavy door open with more force than necessary.

Outside, the cold air hit her like a wall, but it did little to cool her inner turmoil. She pulled out her phone, her fingers shaking as she dialed a number she hadn't used in years—the number of the 5th ranked hero, Death Paw, her estranged mother.

The phone rang, each tone echoing in Rumi's ear like a drumbeat of impending doom. Finally, a voice answered, cold and distant. "Who's this? How did you get this number?"

"Mom... mom, I need your help. Someone is missing, and I don't know where to find him. Please, I need your help," Rumi's voice cracked, the plea raw and filled with desperation.

There was a pause on the other end, a silence that felt like an eternity to Rumi. "I see. You're still that petulant child. When things get too hard, you come to me. Remember our last conversation? You said you were going to make it on your own. You didn't need my help or guidance. And now you're here, begging. I presume you're on your knees right now, right?"

Rumi gripped the phone tightly, her knuckles white. "I need your help, Mom. Please."

The reply was as cold as the wind that whipped around her. "No. I am not your mother. So don't call me that. You said you didn't need a mother like me. So we're currently strangers unless you want to move back in."

Tears streamed down Rumi's cheeks, the sting sharp against the cold air. "Mom, please... please help me."

Her mother's voice was cutting, dismissive. "Rumi Usagiyama. That's what you go by now, right? You took your father's last name just to spite me. Oh, my gosh, I'm just digging up the past again. We're strangers now. I keep forgetting that. So call me Death Paw, since that's what everyone knows me as. And I'll call you whatever ridiculous hero name you came up with. What was it? Mirko? It doesn't suit you."

"Death Paw, shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Rumi shouted into the phone, her voice breaking with the intensity of her emotions. "I don't care about the past right now, Mom, I need your help, and I'm going to get it no matter what!"

There was a seething fire in her words, a desperate plea mixed with a fierce demand. "I'm losing myself trying to hold everyone together, and I need help to find him. If you ever cared for me, if you ever loved me as your daughter, please help me. That's all I'm asking. We can put everything else aside, I don't care, just help me find him."

Silence stretched on the other line, thick and heavy, until finally, her mother's voice returned, calm and controlled. "Fine. Send me an image of the boy, and I'll have some of my best people on it. But if I do find him, you are coming back to the family. That's the deal."

Rumi felt an invisible collar tighten around her neck, a phantom pressure that brought back too many memories of manipulations and conditions. "No," she said firmly, her voice cold as steel. "Fuck no. I'm never going back. I know how you operate, always trying to squeeze every little drop out of me."

"That's the deal, Rumi. Take it or leave it," Death Paw responded, her tone unyielding.

"You can take your deal and shove it up your ass," Rumi spat back. "I'm asking you as a daughter, and this is what you come up with? Isn't it sad that my own mother won't help me out, no matter what? Even if I needed just a little help, you wouldn't lift a finger. What kind of hero are you?"

Death Paw laughed, a sound that was both dismissive and chilling. "That is adorable, the way you act so brave, especially through a cell phone. But I'll tell you what kind of hero I am. I'm the one who's the strongest. Might makes right. I use everything in my disposal to become stronger, just like you. We have the same personality, but yet, you fight against my suggestions at every turn. Why is that, Rumi? Sorry, I mean Mirko."

Rumi gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. "Mom, we are not the same person. Maybe that's what I would have said back then, but not anymore. I'm not willing to let myself become a mini-version of you."

She took a deep breath, her voice steadying as she made her choice clear. "I will follow my own path, and I will go down that road with people I care about, unlike you, walking a lonely road by yourself, relying only on your strength. So, this is goodbye, Mom. Enjoy your strength."

With that, she hung up the phone, her heart racing, her emotions a whirlwind of anger, relief, and defiance. She stood still for a moment, letting the night air cool her flushed cheeks, feeling the weight of the conversation settle around her.

Turning, she walked back toward the warehouse, her steps determined and sure.

As Rumi reentered the warehouse, the atmosphere was thick with the electricity of strained nerves and unspoken fears. She paused at the entrance, taking in the sight of her friends scattered around the room, caught between moments of false cheer and somber silence. Clearing her throat softly, she bowed her head deeply, a gesture weighted with sincerity.

"I'm sorry, everyone," Rumi began, her voice steady but tinged with raw emotion. "I've been under a lot of stress...we all have. And I shouldn't have taken it out on any of you."

Mei, who had been tinkering quietly with a device on the side, looked up, her eyes softening. She set aside her tools and walked over to Rumi, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, Rumi. We've all been going through a lot," she said, her voice calm but carrying an undertone of weariness. "And... we need to accept the fact that he might not come back. I don't want that to be true, I really don't. But it's been a week. I still have hope he's coming back, but..." Her voice trailed off, tangled in the what-ifs and buts.

Himiko, who had been watching the exchange from a distance, walked over and chimed in with her usual fiery spirit tempered by the situation. "We're just saying we should prepare for the worst and hope for the best. But it's going to be okay. He's going to come back, trust me. Besides, we've got the sports festival coming up. We all need to train."

She picked up a controller from the couch, tossing it from one hand to the other. "Let's head into some dungeons, take care of them. We need to get stronger, for his sake and for ours. So when he comes back, we can stand by him, as equals."

Their heads nodded in agreement, a silent pact forming among them. It was then that Eri, who had been quietly drawing in a corner, slowly made her way over to Rumi. With small, uncertain steps, she hugged Rumi's leg, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's okay, Bunny Mama. I miss him too. Just... don't hurt any other mama, please."

Rumi's heart clenched at the words, and she bent down, lifting Eri into her arms with a softness that belied her usual toughness. "I promise, Eri," she murmured, kissing the top of her head. "No more hurting. We're going to be strong together."

Rumi's reassuring words were a gentle balm in the storm of uncertainty. As she set Eri down, her resolve hardened. "We're going to train hard," she declared, rallying her group with a determined look. "We need to be ready for anything." The plan was set; they would enter one of the system-generated dungeons, a tangible challenge that would test their skills and fortify their spirits.

The dungeon was located deep in the outskirts of the city, a sprawling labyrinth known for its infestation of goblins and other nefarious creatures. As they geared up, Rumi reminded everyone of the stakes. "This isn't just about leveling up. It's about proving to ourselves that we can handle whatever comes our way, with or without Izuku."

The group entered the dungeon with a mix of trepidation and adrenaline. The air was damp and thick with the musk of creatures that had not seen the light of day for ages. The walls of the cave were rough and echoed their footsteps, making the space feel alive with the whispers of lurking dangers.

Himiko, always eager to lead the charge, grinned at the prospect of real combat. "Let's show these goblins what we're made of," she cheered, drawing her sword with a flourish that sparkled under the dim light of the dungeon's torches.

Mei adjusted her goggles, scanning the environment with her gadgets to pinpoint traps and hidden enemies. "Stay alert," she cautioned, her voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space. "These dungeons are known for surprises."

As they ventured deeper, the goblins began to appear. Small at first, easy to handle, but as they progressed, the goblins grew smarter, larger, and more coordinated.

Hours passed, and their bags grew heavy with loot and their XP bars increased. But more importantly, they felt a sense of accomplishment and unity that had been missing since Izuku's disappearance.

As they exited the dungeon, battered but victorious, the reality of the upcoming sports festival set in. It was an opportunity to showcase their skills and to remind the world, and themselves, of their capabilities.

Festival day.

The day of the festival arrived quickly. Rumi, being a third-year, was separated from Mei and Himiko due to the event's structure, which segregated competitors by their year to balance the challenges posed to different experience levels.

In the hallway outside the arena, Mei and Himiko leaned against the lockers, their nerves palpable. "I wish Rumi could watch us compete," Mei murmured, adjusting her gear nervously.

Himiko nodded, clenching her fists. "She'll be kicking ass in her own tier. We'll just have to do the same here."

Their conversation was interrupted by whispers from other students passing by, speculating on Izuku's absence. "Where's that Midoriya guy?" one whispered, loud enough for Mei and Himiko to hear.

Before either Himiko or Mei could respond, Katsuki Bakugo sauntered past them, his usual sneer plastered across his face like a permanent brand of arrogance. "Scared, probably," he said loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear. "Too chicken to show up. Figures."

The words cut through the air like a blade. Himiko's fox ears twitched violently, her tail fluffed out in visible agitation. She turned sharply, her golden eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "The fuck did you just say?" she growled, stepping forward.

Bakugo stopped, smirking, half-turning his head with that infuriating cocky grin. "You heard me, mutt."

In an instant, a flicker of blue fire sparked in Himiko's palm, licking at her fingertips with a sinister hiss. "Wanna say that again, you grenade-faced bastard?" she said, her voice low, trembling with barely contained rage. "Because I'll happily see how crispy you get."

Students nearby froze, murmuring in alarm. Some started backing away while others stood frozen, unsure whether to run or stay.

Bakugo laughed, but it wasn't kind. "You really think your little fire show scares me, fox-girl? All bark, no—"

Shing!

Himiko's other hand transformed in a blink, her fingers elongating into long, razor-sharp claws glimmering like obsidian. "Keep talking," she hissed. "I'll carve those words into your chest and use your spine as a back-scratcher."

By now, several students had gathered, whispering nervously, eyes darting between the two. Some were recording. Others tried stepping in.

"Himiko, stop—" a brunette girl with braids pleaded, but the tension only escalated.

"HEY!" A blur of motion brought Iida into the space, his glasses gleaming as he stood tall between the two. "There will be no fighting in the hall! This is a prestigious event, and you're setting a poor example!"

"Move, Engine Legs," Himiko snarled, her dragon-clawed hand poised to strike. "This is between me and this flaming piece of shit."

Iida held his ground, arms up, trying to be the voice of reason. "You'll both be disqualified if this continues—"

"Let her try!" Bakugo yelled. "I'll blow that fake little fox pelt right off her head!"

"You little BITCH!" Himiko lunged, but Iida barely held her back, engines sparking to keep her at bay.

"Enough!" Melissa Shield ran up, placing herself beside Iida. "You both need to calm down—this isn't the time! We're supposed to be competing, not killing each other!"

"NO!" Himiko screamed, eyes welling with fury. "This asshole is talking shit about Izuku when he's missing! Missing, not skipping! And you all act like that's normal?!"

Her voice cracked, the grief in it cutting through even the thickest tension. "You expect me to drop it? The only thing I'm gonna drop is this idiot after I put him in the fucking ground!"

Bakugo stepped forward, hands crackling with popping explosions, his eyes wild. "He's probably hiding somewhere! Running from real competition! Just like his little sluts—"

CLICK.

The sound was unmistakable.

Mei Hatsume had moved without anyone noticing, fast and precise. A gleaming silver revolver was now pressed firmly against Bakugo's temple, her hand rock steady.

"Call him that again," she said softly, her voice a cold blade. "Say it. Fucking say it. And see what happens."

The crowd gasped, frozen in absolute disbelief.

Bakugo didn't flinch, but the vein in his forehead bulged. "You wouldn't—"

"You don't know me," Mei snapped, her goggles sliding up to reveal tear-streaked eyes burning with fury. "You think I'm just the crazy gadget girl? Nah. I'm the one who stayed up three days straight to build defenses to protect him. I'm the one who saw his body broken and bleeding. I held him, grenade-boy."

More students tried to move in now, panic setting in.

"Hey! Everyone just, calm the hell down!" a class 1-B student yelled, trying to step between them.

Melissa, hands raised, slowly approached. "Mei, Himiko, please. He's not worth it. Don't do something you'll regret."

"Too late for that," Himiko muttered, still shaking with rage.

Rumi's voice echoed in her head, We have to get stronger, for him and for ourselves.

She inhaled deeply, clawed hand slowly retracting, fire fizzing out like a dying ember. Mei exhaled too and, after one last icy stare, lowered her revolver and slid it back into her holster beneath her coat.

"You're not worth my bullets," she muttered.

Bakugo scoffed but didn't push further. Not now.

Iida looked like he'd just run a mile in panic. "You girls need to walk away. Now. Go cool down before the proctors arrive."

Himiko spun on her heel, tail swishing like a whip behind her. "We'll win without stooping to your level," she threw over her shoulder. "And when Izuku gets back, I dare you to say that shit to his face."

Mei followed, silent now, but her expression unreadable.

The hallway slowly returned to a tense quiet, murmurs filling the void as the crowd dispersed.

Behind the corner, Himiko and Mei stopped, leaning against the wall. Himiko wiped at her face. "I hate that guy so much."

Mei nodded. "But we didn't kill him."

"Shame," Himiko muttered. "Would've been cathartic."

Mei cracked a faint smile. "Come on. Let's win this for him."

And with that, they walked toward the arena, shoulders squared, jaws set, and hearts burning with a fire that would not be extinguished.

Courtyard

The sun blazed high over U.A.'s grand stadium courtyard, casting golden rays across the massive field where hundreds of students gathered shoulder to shoulder. Cheers erupted from the stands, fans and family filling every seat, anticipation buzzing like static in the air.

In the center, Present Mic's voice boomed from the massive floating speakers, hyping up the crowd with his usual flair. "YEEEEEEEAH, LET'S GET THIS STARTED, FOLKS! THE U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL IS OFFICIALLY OPEN! FIRST UP, INTRODUCING OUR AMAZING STUDENTS!"

The crowd roared as he rattled off the classes, one by one. "SUPPORT COURSE! GENERAL STUDIES! BUSINESS DEPARTMENT! AND LAST BUT NEVER LEAST — THE HERO COURSE! CLASS 1-A! CLASS 1-B! THIRD YEARS! LET'S HEAR IT FOR 'EM!"

Each section of students stepped forward proudly, some waving, others raising fists confidently. Mei and Himiko stood in the front row of the 1-A contingent, side by side, both tensed with emotion and anticipation.

Present Mic's voice pitched into a more serious tone. "And now, tradition calls for the top scorer from the entrance exam to deliver the opening speech. Buuuuut… since our top boy, Izuku Midoriya, is M.I.A.—" his voice faltered a bit, "—we've got a stand-in ready to step up and—"

BOOM.

A deafening explosion shook the stadium. The ground cracked beneath a sudden impact in the very center of the sports courtyard. Smoke billowed high into the air, and for a moment, panic flickered across the faces of students and pro heroes alike.

From Class 1-A, Bakugo snarled, "Tch, villain attack?"

Midnight's heels clicked sharply as she stepped forward, arm half-raised and ready to activate her quirk. "Everyone, remain calm but be ready for combat."

Before anyone could even react further, a jagged pillar of ice burst up from the earth, curling like a frozen serpent toward the figure now kneeling at the epicenter of the crater. An explosion followed, courtesy of Bakugo, pure reaction.

Mei and Himiko jumped instinctively into formation, standing back to back as they scanned the smoke. Himiko summoned a flickering flame into one hand, her other shifting into a dragon's claw. Mei pulled a small, humming contraption from her belt that crackled with blue light.

Then, something shifted.

A scent, familiar, unmistakable, and strong, cut through the smoke. It wasn't blood. It wasn't ozone. It was…

"...Is that sake?" Mei muttered.

Before either of them could turn, they felt warm, swaying arms drape over their shoulders.

Between them stood a figure cloaked in forest-green robes, wrinkled and singed at the edges. His hair was a wild mess of green tufts. His face was flushed, his eyes unfocused.

"Hiiyooo... h-hey-hey, issa meee..." the green-haired boy slurred, giggling mid-sentence. "Brocco... broccoli... man's back, babyyy~"

"Izuku?!" both girls shouted in unison, turning toward him in shock.

He wobbled dramatically, then threw both arms around them and pulled them close in a sloppy hug. "I mishhhed you guyyys sooo muuuchh... I-I was... in... like, the, uh... s'place with the fire... an'... and the teaaa…"

Tears filled Mei's eyes as she hugged him tighter. "You absolute idiot! You had us terrified!"

Himiko wiped her face roughly, then pinched his cheek. "What the hell did you drink?! You're sloshed!"

Izuku giggled like a child. "G'n... gave me sssakeee... mmm... tastesss like... burny apple water... I think it's magical... also m'mouth iz dryyy..."

Midnight approached cautiously, heels clicking as the smoke fully cleared. She arched a brow, taking in the disheveled, drunken mess of robes and tangled hair. "Midoriya... are you... alright to compete?"

Izuku turned, wobbling, and pointed at her with both hands like imaginary finger guns. "Miiiidnighhttt~ Whoa, wait, when'd ya get... four faces? Wait, wait-wait, no—ident'cal twins! Tha's the word!"

He gave a dramatic spin and almost fell on his face before Himiko grabbed him again. "I-I'm sooo ready, lemme fight da... the... sports... the 'lympics... thingy... I can take on... a WHOLE plate of... goblins…"

Mei cringed. "You mean opponents?"

"I said what I said," Izuku declared proudly, wobbling upright with the strength of a wet towel.

A moment passed in silence.

Midnight looked to Aizawa in the distance. He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a reluctant nod. "If he's standing, let him try."

"Yaayyy," Izuku drawled, leaning between Mei and Himiko again. "Ohh wait, wai'... Midnight, are... you a duck? Like, quack quack or nah?"

The crowd didn't know how to react.

Laughter rippled from some students. Others just stared.

Melissa Shield facepalmed from the support box. "He's gonna get himself disqualified... or killed... or both."

"Okay!" Present Mic recovered quickly, his voice shaky. "Th-the number one student has returned to give a speech! I think! Maybe!"

Izuku turned toward the mic. "Speechhh! Yep! Leshgooo~!"

He stumbled forward, stood for a full two seconds with arms out like a balance beam routine... and then just softly belched.

"I... hic... I'm hereee... tuh tell you all... hiccup... not tuh give up... 'cuz like... hic... friends an' s-stuff... an' love..."

He collapsed sideways into Himiko, giggling. "...an' I mishhed you girls so so so sooooo muchh..."

Mei helped steady him, eyes soft. "He's back," she whispered, smiling through her tears. "The idiot's back."

"Drunk off his ass," Himiko added, laughing shakily. "But he's back."

And with that, the sports festival had officially become something far greater than just a competition, it became the day their lost hero stumbled back into their lives, reeking of sake, swaying like a leaf in a storm, but very much alive.

Author's Notes:

Thank you all for the overwhelming support and engagement with the story so far! I genuinely appreciate every comment, critique, and piece of feedback you've provided. It's crucial for me to ensure that the narrative resonates well with you all, so please keep the reviews coming. Your insights help refine the direction and execution of the story, and I'm eager to hear what you think about the recent developments, especially Izuku's dramatic return. Looking forward to bringing you the first two parts of the Sports Festival in the next chapter, where we'll ramp up the action and dive into some intense fights. Again, thank you so much for your continued support, it means the world to me!

Stay tuned, and let's see how our heroes fare in the upcoming challenges. Your feedback not only motivates me but also shapes the journey of our beloved characters. Here's to more exciting adventures at U.A. High!