The fifteen minutes had passed in the blink of an eye. One after another, the students arrived at the assembly point, some triumphant or even laughing, others frustrated or exhausted. Midoriya arrived with an embarrassed smile, Todoroki as stoic as ever, Uraraka beaming with joy as if she had found a new friend. The homeroom teachers stood in a row, each with a folder in hand, ready to analyze the exercise and thus their students.
Bakugo had dragged Emiko by the wrist the entire way until they reached the assembly point where the homeroom teachers were waiting for the students. With one last angry jerk, he pushed her forward, directly in front of the waiting teachers.
"I won!" he announced loudly, while Emiko stumbled to regain her balance, rubbing her wrist where his fingers had left subtle marks.
Aizawa raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Bakugo joined his classmates with folded arms, and Emiko quietly made her way to the general studies students, her gaze fixed shamefully on the ground.
"You were all given the task of competing against your training partners from yesterday," Aizawa began, his voice as monotone as ever, as soon as everyone had gathered and no one had been lost in the exercise. "What most of you didn't know: It wasn't about who wins, but how you handle this situation."
A murmur went through the crowd of students. Kirishima, standing next to Bakugo, muttered a confused "Huh?", while Bakugo merely folded his arms as if he had known it all along.
Aizawa continued: "Each homeroom teacher will now evaluate the performance of their students. I'll start with Class 1-A."
The following minutes were filled with brief but precise criticism. On the screen behind the teachers, every single fight could be followed as the teachers drew their analysis from it. Aizawa criticized each fight with relentless honesty – Midoriya's excessive use of power, which he still couldn't control, Todoroki's lack of communication, even though the end result was perfect, and Uraraka's clever strategy that led her to success. The students hung on his every word, knowing that each of his observations was valuable, even if they sometimes sounded relentless.
"Bakugo," Aizawa finally said, directing his penetrating gaze at the ash-blond boy. On the large monitor behind him, the video was fast-forwarded to the moment where he grabbed Emiko's wrist.
"Top grade," Aizawa announced tersely.
Bakugo, who had prepared himself for a lecture, blinked in surprise. "Huh?"
"Fighting wasn't mandatory," explained Aizawa as he marked a point on his clipboard. "The task was to win – not to hurt the opponent. You recognized that there didn't need to be a fight and simply... took your opponent with you instead."
The last words sounded almost surprised, as far as Aizawa was capable of such an emotion. On the screen, the image changed to the scene where Bakugo determinedly pulled Emiko by the wrist from the training grounds.
Suppressed giggles ran through the ranks of students. Kirishima grinned broadly and lightly punched Bakugo's shoulder. "Not bad, man!"
Bakugo stared at the screen, his face a strange mixture of surprise, confusion, and anger. He hadn't considered his actions appropriate at all – he had simply been angry. Angry at Emiko, at this stupid exercise, at the whole situation. And now that was supposed to have been the right decision? It didn't make any damn sense.
"Tch," was all he uttered, as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and deliberately averted his gaze from the screen.
After Aizawa had completed his evaluations, they continued with Classes 1-B and 1-C, until finally Anan Kurose, the homeroom teacher of General Studies Class 1-D, stepped forward. She wore a white, spacesuit-like design with a puffy jacket, a black helmet with white eyes, and yellow boots, identifying her as a professional rescue hero. Her thoughtful, calm manner gave her a natural authority that required no loud words.
"Now to my students," she began, her voice clear and deliberate. The passion for her work as a rescue hero resonated in every one of her words. "Unlike the hero classes, your task wasn't to win, but to learn – to understand when action or your intervention is meaningful and when it's not. As support and rescue heroes, for example, you must always place the well-being of others above your personal ambition."
She began to analyze the performance of her students, each time supported by video clips on the large screen, even if most of them had already been seen. Some of her students had cleverly hidden, others had tried to use the environment to their advantage. Some had even achieved small successes by surprising their opponents or throwing them off balance.
Finally, she came to Emiko. The screen once again showed the scene where Emiko stood alone and upright in the middle of the street, her gaze determinedly fixed on Bakugo, who in the next moment rushed toward her.
"Aokawa," Kurose began with a concerned tone that reflected her experience as a rescue hero. "Your strategy, if one can even call it that, was not only ineffective but downright counterproductive. As a future rescue and support hero, you must learn that self-sacrifice without a plan is not heroic – it's a risk for everyone involved."
Emiko lowered her gaze as her homeroom teacher continued.
"As an aspiring support and rescue hero, it's your job to analyze the situation and provide the best possible support – not to offer yourself as a target. Your quirk is designed for healing and support, not for direct confrontation."
The screen now showed the scene where Emiko stood firm as Bakugo fired an explosion next to her. It was followed by a shot of her tense facial features, as she turned her head to the side and bit her lip.
"You chose to simply endure without any strategy – behavior that could be fatal in a real fight. A support must be flexible, must think, must find solutions." Kurose shook her head slightly, visibly disappointed. "This performance was... inadequate."
As the teacher spoke, Emiko unconsciously rubbed her wrist, which despite Bakugo's firm grip had long since healed. An automatic process of her quirk that worked almost unconsciously with minor injuries.
"I'm sorry, Sensei," she said quietly, her gaze still lowered. "I understand that it was ill-considered."
What she didn't say – what she wouldn't admit at that moment – was that she hadn't thought about strategy for a moment. All that had been in her head were Bakugo's harsh words from the day before. "You're even more pathetic than I thought. Don't even have the damn basic control over your own puny quirk!" She had wanted to prove to him that she wasn't pathetic, that her quirk wasn't shit. And somehow, in her twisted logic, standing firm, enduring, bearing it, was supposed to provide that proof.
A soft whisper tore her from her thoughts. The students around her whispered excitedly as the screen continued to play the footage – now the scene where Bakugo grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out of the arena. Her clumsy stumbling steps behind him, his determined forward rush, the whole surreal situation.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed how Bakugo stiffened as he saw the scene on the screen and listened to the poor evaluation. His jaw muscles worked, his eyes narrowed to slits. Was it anger? Embarrassment? She couldn't tell.
Kurose ended her criticism with a serious look at Emiko. "I expect a significant improvement in the next exercise, Aokawa."
"Yes, Sensei," Emiko replied, her cheeks flushed with shame. At that moment, she was almost grateful for Bakugo's impulsive decision – had he actually fought against her, the humiliation would probably have been even greater.
When the evaluations were finally completed and the teachers dismissed the students, Emiko breathed a sigh of relief. She just wanted to get away from here, away from the curious glances and the whispers. Away from the memory of her own failure and Bakugo's confused anger.
But as she turned to leave, her gaze involuntarily fell on the ash-blond boy standing among his classmates. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met – lavender on red – and something indefinable flickered between them. Not friendship, not sympathy, perhaps not even understanding. But something that hadn't been there before. It was a tense discomfort.
Then Bakugo averted his gaze, seemingly annoyed by some comment from Kirishima, and the moment was over. Emiko hastily turned around and walked with hurried steps back to her classroom.