….
The workplace internships finally drew to a close.
It had been two weeks since the siblings' disastrous dinner, and a full three weeks since the attack on U.A.
The trio - Midoriya, Bakugo, and Shoto; were officially discharged from the hospital, having spent the tail end of their recovery under the watchful, and increasingly irritated eyes of the school's medical staff.
Immediately, they reintegrated into their respective programs, and once again, the classes resumed in U.A..
Time passed and it was now the last week of May, which meant the end-of-term exams were exactly seven days out.
Written and practical, both are mandatory, weighted heavily enough to make or break a hero student's trajectory.
Class 1-A was handling this information with varying degrees of maturity.
"We're dead." Kaminari had his forehead pressed against his desk, his voice muffled by the wood. "I haven't studied anything, I don't even remember what subjects we're supposed to have. Do we still do math? Is that a thing?"
"Same." Ashido was slumped in her chair. "I kept telling myself I will start after the internships, and then the internships ended, and then I told myself I will start Monday, and then it was Tuesday, and then it was three weeks later and I still haven't opened a textbook."
"I, too, have allowed my academic discipline to be consumed by the abyss." Tokoyami added, his tone suggesting he was confessing to a high-ranking war crime.
Sato shook his head. "You do realize these exams are going to be harder than the midterms, right? Aizawa-sensei already warned us that the difficulty scales up, so if you barely scraped by last time, this isn't going to go well unless you actually put in the work now."
"DON'T." Kaminari said. "Don't finish that sentence."
From the front of the room, Midoriya pivoted in his seat, his eyes bright with that familiar, frantic helpfulness. "Hey, we've still got a week, and that's actually plenty of time if we use it properly. I have got color-coded notes from every lecture since April, so I can make copies for everyone, and if we divide the subjects into study groups and rotate through them, we can cover everything efficiently without anyone getting overwhelmed."
"Midoriya is right." Iida stood up stiffly. "A week of dedicated preparation is more than sufficient! I recommend a minimum of four hours of focused study per evening, organized by credit weight, with fifteen-minute breaks for hydration and light calisthenics–"
"Iida, buddy, I love you, but four hours a night is going to actually liquefy my brain." Kaminari groaned.
"Perhaps the grades are simply a direct reflection of the effort invested." Shoto chimed in from the back.
He looked genuinely curious. "If you don't review the material, isn't the outcome just a predictable consequence?"
Dead silence, Kaminari and Ashido stared at him with identical expressions of betrayal.
"He is right, but God, he didn't have to say it like that." Ashido whispered.
Yaoyorozu stood up, sensing the plummeting morale. "If anyone would like assistance, I would be more than happy to host a study session at my residence! I have already prepared review materials for the core subjects, and I think working through problems together might be more effective than studying alone."
The response was a stampede.
Jiro was in before Momo finished the sentence, Kaminari and Ashido practically threw themselves at her desk, weeping with gratitude, Ojiro and Sero were signing up within seconds.
From across the room, Bakugo grabbed Kirishima by the collar of his uniform. "OI. You're studying with ME. I will drill this crap into your thick skull if I have to BLAST it in there."
"Man, that sounds… extremely painful and probably illegal." Kirishima said, though he looked relieved.
"IT'S SUPPOSED TO."
….
At lunch, Midoriya's group claimed their usual table: him, Iida, Todoroki, Uraraka, Asui, and Hagakure.
"I feel okay about the written part." Uraraka said, unwrapping her bento. "I mean, I am not gonna ace it or anything, but okay. It's the practical that's freaking me out. We don't even know what it is yet."
"Historically, the practical exam varies each year." Iida noted, adjusting his glasses. "Last year's format was significantly different from the year before. We can't assume anything based on precedent."
"That's not helping, Iida."
"I was merely providing vital context!"
"The written exam is just a matter of proper preparation, ribbit." Asui added, her calm demeanor acting as a much-needed anchor. "But Ochaco is right… the practical is the unknown variable."
"I just wish we had a hint." Hagakure's voice drifted from above her empty chair. "Even a tiny one."
As if summoned by the mention of a 'tiny hint,' Neito Monoma materialized beside their table.
He had the unerring instinct of someone who could sense Class 1-A having a pleasant conversation and felt personally obligated to end it.
"Well, well! If it isn't the Golden Children of Class 1-A!" He leaned against the table, a predatory grin stretched across his face. "Feeling confident? Robust? I must say, for a class that spends half its time being a magnet for national disasters, you look remarkably relaxed. Must be that special treatment, hm? The teachers probably hand-feed you the answers just to keep the spotlight from dimming–"
"Monoma." Itsuka Kendo appeared behind him, her expression a mix of exhaustion and second-hand embarrassment. "That's enough."
"I am merely fostering inter-class relations, Kendo! I am being a social butterfly! Is it a crime to be friendl–"
He was silenced mid-sentence as Kendo's hand enlarged and tapped him firmly on the head, sending him into a heap.
"I am so sorry about him," Kendo said, looking at Midoriya's table with a weary smile. "Please, just ignore everything he just said."
"Oh. It's fine, really." Midoriya started.
Kendo hesitated, then leaned in, lowering her voice. "Look... I heard from an upperclassman that the practical is going to be a battle simulation against robots."
The table went quiet, Midoriya, Todoroki looked at her while Uraraka's chopsticks stopped halfway to her mouth.
"Robots?" Iida repeated.
"That's what I heard. Similar to the entrance exam format, but scaled up significantly. Heavy machinery and high-density targets."
"KENDO!" Monoma shrieked from the floor, scrambling back to his feet. "Why would you TELL them?! That was Class B's strategic intelligence! Our ace in the hole! Our tactical advantage! You've just handed them the keys to the kingdo–"
Kendo's hand expanded to three times its normal size, snagging him by the collar like a troublesome kitten. "We're leaving. Good luck with your exams, guys."
She dragged him away, his frantic protests echoing down the cafeteria hallway until they faded into a muffled, disgruntled hum.
….
Back in the classroom, the news of the 'Robot Exam' was shared with everyone.
"Robots!" Kaminari looked like he'd just won the lottery. "Oh, thank god. Robots! I can do robots! I can fry robots!"
Ashido pumped her fist. "I was so worried it was going to be some weird obstacle course. But robots? I can melt those!"
"If it's robots, we can finally operate without a governor." Shoji added. "We can go full power without the risk of injuring a human opponent."
"DOESN'T MATTER WHAT IT IS!"
Bakugo was suddenly on his feet, his palms popping with sharp, angry sparks.
"Robots, villains, whatever; I will crush anything they put in front of me! I am getting the top score! NOBODY is beating me!"
He swung his arm out, pointing a finger directly at Midoriya, then shifted it to Shoto.
"YOU TWO! Listen up! This exam is where I settle the score! I am going to score higher, fight better, and prove once and for all that I am standing above BOTH of you! So you better bring everything you've got, because if you slack off, I will abolish you!"
He turned and stormed toward the door.
The classroom watched him go with the resigned familiarity of people who had seen this exact performance many times before.
Just as he passed through the doorway, he bumped straight into someone.
Bakugo's mouth was already open, the angry response was loaded and ready to fire, the word bastard already formed on his tongue–
He looked up and it was Dabi.
Leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, mask off, looking at Bakugo with the specific, half-lidded expression he used when he was about to ruin someone's afternoon and was mildly entertained by the prospect.
"Perfect timing." Dabi said. "Bakugo, Midoriya. Both of you, with me. I have got something."
He didn't elaborate and was already walking.
Bakugo stood in the doorway, the dramatic exit he had been building to completely derailed. "Hah?! What? Where are we going?! What's this about?! OI, I am talking to you!"
Behind him, Midoriya shoved his notebook into his bag and scrambled out of his seat. "Wait!! Kacchan, wait up! Dabi-sensei, hold on, I need to–"
"Deku, shut UP, I am trying to get an answer from–"
"He's not going to answer you because he's already around the corner."
"I CAN SEE THAT!"
They caught up to him in the hallway.
When they rounded the corner, they realized they weren't the only ones being collected.
Walking a few paces behind Dabi was another student; lean build, purple hair that defied gravity, tired eyes that looked like they hadn't had a full night's sleep in approximately ever.
Midoriya recognized him immediately:
Hitoshi Shinso.
Class 1-C, General Education.
Midoriya recognized him instantly as the boy he'd nearly lost to during the Sports Festival. Bakugo recognized him too; the 'brainwash extra' who had made a scene in the tournament.
"Sensei!" Midoriya jogged to keep pace. "Where are we going? Is this about the practical exams? Why is Shinso-kun here? Is this a joint training exercise, or–"
"Oi, don't ignore me!" Bakugo snarled, pacing Dabi on the other side. "You better have a damn good reason for pulling me out of class, or I am going to start blowing holes in the hallway."
Dabi glanced sideways at both of them. It was a look that communicated absolutely nothing except that he had registered their noise and was choosing to treat it as background static.
He didn't slow down.
Midoriya and Bakugo looked at each other and then at Shinso, who had fallen into step behind Dabi with his hands in his pockets and an expression that said he knew about as much as they did.
"Do you know what this is about?" Midoriya asked him.
Shinso shrugged. "He showed up at my classroom, told the teacher he was taking me, and said 'come with me.' I figured asking questions was just a waste of breath."
"Finally, an extra with a brain." Bakugo muttered, though he kept his eyes locked on the back of Dabi's head.
They reached the training grounds.
The open-air facility stretched out in front of them; the same grounds they used for combat exercises, wide and flat with reinforced walls along the perimeter.
Two figures were already waiting.
Aizawa, and beside him was a gaunt man in an oversized suit; blonde hair, sunken cheeks, a frame that looked like it belonged to someone twice his size.
Midoriya knew who he was and so did Dabi; to Bakugo and Shinso, he was just some skinny guy the teachers apparently hung around with.
Dabi stopped at the center of the grounds, turned around and looked at the three students.
"Alright." He put his hands in his pockets. "Here's what's happening."
He looked at Shinso. "I need you to use your quirk on Midoriya, put him under your hypnosis and as deep as you can."
Shinso blinked. "You want me to brainwash him?"
"That's what I said."
Shinso shifted his gaze to Midoriya, who was already looking at Dabi with a mix of apprehension and sudden realization.
"And then." Dabi continued, looking at Midoriya now. "I need you to break out of it."
Midoriya's expression changed.
The confusion drained out of it and something else took its place; understanding, clicking into focus.
He didn't say it out loud as he couldn't, not here, not in front of Bakugo and Shinso.
But the message was received.
They both knew what this was about: the hospital room, the fever dream, and the connection forming between Midoriya and the previous users of One For All.
If Shinso's brainwashing could shove his consciousness back into that liminal space - the one where the First User's voice had reached out from the fog; then maybe he could reach something that remained locked away while he was awake.
Midoriya had told All Might and Dabi everything after the hospital incident.
The first user, All For One, singularity point, hand reaching toward him and the promise that he wasn't alone.
Dabi was trying to recreate the conditions that had opened that door.
Bakugo looked between the three of them.
Dabi, Midoriya, the skinny guy, Aizawa, a conversation was happening that he wasn't part of, and he could feel it.
"Okay." Bakugo stepped forward. "Someone wants to tell me what the hell is going on? Because this whole thing stinks like special treatment, and I don't–"
He stopped himself, recalibrated. "Actually, you know what? I don't care about that. Fine. The nerd gets his little hypnosis session or whatever. What I want to know is why I AM here."
Dabi looked at him. "You're here to watch."
"...watch?"
"Yes. So just stand back, keep your mouth shut."
"This is pissing me off." Bakugo growled.
"Noted." Dabi turned away. "Do it anyway."
Bakugo stood there for a long, tense second.
In the end, he walked to the edge of the training ground, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
Aizawa had his goggles up now, ready to activate Erasure at a moment's notice.
That was his role here; if Midoriya's quirk discharged uncontrollably again, like it had in the hospital, Aizawa would shut it down before anyone got hurt.
The skinny man, All Might, watching from the sideline, his expression was unreadable.
But his eyes were locked on Midoriya with an intensity that didn't match his frail frame.
Dabi knew this was a long shot.
In the original timeline, [Black Whip] had manifested through sheer, desperate necessity during a skirmish with Class 1-B.
Dabi couldn't perfectly replicate that specific cocktail of stress and intent, but he knew history.
And Shinso's brainwashing had pushed Midoriya into the vestige space before, during the sport festival.
If it had worked once, it might work again. And this time, Midoriya knew what to look for, who was waiting and the hand was reaching toward him.
Everyone moved into position.
Shinso stood at the center, ten feet from his target.
Aizawa hovered to the left, Dabi to the right, and Bakugo against the wall, his eyes narrowed into slits, cataloging every detail with a grim, silent focus.
Shinso rolled his neck, his posture deceptively casual.
"Hey, Midoriya."
He said, his voice flat, conversational; the kind of boring tone that made you forget he was a threat. "You actually ready for this?"
Midoriya planted his feet. He drew a deep breath, the rhythm of [Total Concentration] steadying his heart and clearing the noise from his mind.
"Yeah." he said. "I am rea–"
His eyes went blank.
The word ready died halfway out of his mouth, his body went still, but not rigid or tense, just absent.
The lights were on but Midoriya had left the building.
Shinso's quirk had taken hold the instant he responded, the brainwashing slipping into the gap between intent and action, pulling him under.
His body stood there, empty and waiting.
Wherever Midoriya was now, it wasn't here.
.
….
[To be continued…]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
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