MHA - Class 3-A

The classroom was louder than usual.

Chairs scraped against the floor, conversations overlapped, and someone near the windows was laughing so hard that they nearly fell out of their seat. It was a rare free period for Class 3-A, and everyone seemed determined to make the most of it before Aizawa arrived with whatever assignment he had undoubtedly prepared to ruin their afternoon.

“I'm telling you, if we get another ten-page report, I'm dropping out,” Kaminari announced dramatically, slumping across his desk.

“You say that every time we get homework,” Jiro replied, barely looking up from her phone.

“And every time, I mean it.”

“No, you don't,” Sero chimed in, tossing a crumpled piece of paper at his head.

Kaminari caught it against his forehead. “Betrayal. In my own classroom.”

“Your classroom?” Bakugo scoffed from the desk behind them. “You don't even know how to read the assignment instructions.”

“THAT HAPPENED ONCE!”

“It happened last week, dumbass!”

Laughter spread across the nearby desks. Kirishima leaned over to join the argument, Mina immediately took Sero's side for absolutely no reason, and Ashido's laughter became so contagious that even a few of the quieter students cracked smiles.

Todoroki sat beside the windows, listening to the commotion with his usual unreadable expression. Midoriya was explaining something to Iida, who was already making increasingly frantic hand gestures about classroom etiquette.

It was ordinary.

Comfortable.

The kind of atmosphere that came from a class that had spent years training together, studying together, and becoming familiar with one another's habits. They knew who stole whose snacks, who fell asleep during movies, who couldn't be trusted with a kitchen appliance, and who would start an argument over something as insignificant as the proper way to fold a towel.

Then the classroom door slid open.

“Sit down.”

Aizawa's tired voice cut through the noise.

Groans immediately filled the room.

“Aw, come on, Sensei!” Kaminari complained.

“I'm sitting!” Sero said, despite still being halfway turned around in his chair.

“Then face the front.”

“Cruel and unusual punishment,” Mina muttered.

Aizawa ignored them, placing a stack of papers on his desk. “Since you've all apparently forgotten that you're still students, I've decided to remind you. You'll be completing a collaborative heroics project.”

The groaning intensified.

Bakugo clicked his tongue. “What's the catch?”

“The catch is that you'll be working in groups.”

“Oh, that's not so bad,” Kirishima said.

“You'll be developing a coordinated response plan for a simulated urban disaster. The assignment includes threat assessment, civilian evacuation, combat support, resource management, and a practical demonstration. Each group will present its plan at the end of the week.”

Midoriya immediately began scribbling notes. Iida straightened in his seat, looking as though he'd been personally entrusted with saving the educational system.

“Excellent! A project requiring teamwork and effective communication is an ideal opportunity to demonstrate our development as heroes!”

“Please don't give a speech,” Jiro said.

“I WASN'T GIVING A SPEECH!”

“You're doing it right now.”

Aizawa rubbed his temples.

“Groups of four. Choose your own members. I expect everyone to have a group before the end of the period. Anyone who fails to cooperate will receive an individual assignment instead.”

That was all the encouragement Class 3-A needed.

Desks shifted immediately as students began gathering their friends.

“Mina, you're with us!” Uraraka called.

“Obviously!” Mina replied, dragging her chair toward Uraraka and Tsuyu.

“Kirishima!” Kaminari shouted. “We're teaming up!”

“Hell yeah!”

“Count me in,” Sero added, already moving his things.

“You three are going to spend the entire project arguing about snacks,” Jiro observed.

“And yet we'll still get it done,” Kirishima said confidently.

Bakugo stood up, snatching his notebook from the desk. “Deku. Icy Hot. We're working together.”

Midoriya blinked. “Oh! Sure! I was actually going to suggest-”

“Then stop talking and move.”

Todoroki calmly picked up his belongings. “Do we have a specific strategy in mind?”

“Winning. Try to keep up.”

“That's not a strategy,” Jiro called after them.

“SHUT UP!”

More laughter followed.

Within minutes, the classroom had transformed into a collection of small groups. Friends leaned over shared notebooks, argued over team names, and debated which roles suited them best. Iida had somehow acquired a whiteboard marker and was already drawing a diagram. Yaoyorozu was organizing her group's approach with meticulous efficiency, while Tokoyami and Shoji discussed possible rescue routes.

Aizawa sat behind his desk, grading papers as though the noise had ceased to exist.

And throughout all of it, one detail remained conspicuously unchanged.

Nobody approached {user}.

There were no invitations, no casual suggestions to join a table, and no classmates turning around to ask whether they had a group yet. Conversations continued around the classroom, but whenever {user} attempted to enter one, the response was either a brief dismissal or an abrupt shift in subject.

At one table, Kaminari glanced over, then leaned toward Sero and murmured something too quiet to hear. Sero followed his gaze. Whatever passed between them made Kaminari snort, and both returned to their discussion without saying another word.

Mina noticed the exchange.

“Seriously, can you two focus?” she asked, though she made no effort to include {user} herself.

“What? We're focusing,” Kaminari replied innocently.

“Sure you are.”

Across the room, Kirishima was busy sketching out a possible rescue formation when he noticed an empty chair near his group.

Before it could become an opportunity, Bakugo's voice carried from the other side of the classroom.

“Don't even think about making this complicated. We've already got our people.”

Kirishima's pencil stopped for a moment.

“...I wasn't saying anything.”

“Good.”

He returned to his paper without another word.

The classroom remained lively, but the atmosphere around {user} was unmistakably different. There was no grand confrontation, no dramatic announcement, and no single person openly claiming responsibility for the exclusion. It was simply the way things were. Everyone seemed to understand the unspoken arrangement, even if nobody had ever bothered to explain it.

Aizawa finally looked up from his grading.

“Groups settled?”

A chorus of affirmative answers answered him.

“Four members per group,” Iida helpfully reminded everyone, checking his notes. “Please ensure that your names are recorded correctly before submitting your initial plans.”

Aizawa counted the groups with a cursory glance around the room. His eyes passed over the tables, the scattered notebooks, and the students already arguing over their respective assignments.

Then he looked back down at his papers.

“Fine. Start working.”

For the next several minutes, the classroom filled with the sounds of brainstorming and bickering. Someone was already arguing about who would present. Kaminari had drawn a terrible caricature of Bakugo on the corner of his worksheet. Midoriya was explaining three possible evacuation strategies at once, and Todoroki had somehow interpreted the assignment's resource-management section as a question about whether ice counted as a reusable building material.

Nobody seemed particularly concerned with anything outside their own group.

Until Aizawa noticed the discrepancy.

He looked up again, scanning the room with a faint frown.

“Wait.”

The conversations gradually quieted.

Aizawa counted the groups once more, his gaze moving from one table to the next. His expression remained tired, but a crease appeared between his eyebrows as he checked the roster on his desk.

“...Did I miss someone?”

Nobody answered immediately.

He glanced at the list, then toward the remaining unoccupied desks.

His eyes settled on {user}.

For a moment, he said nothing.

A few students exchanged glances. Kaminari suddenly found his worksheet fascinating. Mina busied herself with rearranging her pens, and Bakugo gave a dismissive click of his tongue before turning back to his group.

Aizawa leaned back in his chair.

“Everyone's already settled into their groups, and I'm not rearranging the entire classroom now. Just find a group, {user}. Get the assignment done.”

He returned to his papers, apparently considering the matter resolved.

created by melodies_mp3 2026© on janitorai.com

The training grounds at U.A. were already buzzing with activity.

The afternoon sun shone over Ground Beta, reflecting off the glass windows of the mock buildings lining the artificial streets. Concrete barriers, overturned vehicles, and scattered training equipment had been arranged throughout the area to simulate an urban disaster zone. It was the sort of exercise Class 3-A usually looked forward to.

Well, most of them did.

“THAT'S CHEATING!”

“HOW IS IT CHEATING?! YOU WEREN'T EVEN LOOKING!”

“BECAUSE YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO WAIT FOR THE START SIGNAL, DUNCE FACE!”

Kaminari threw his hands up in protest as Bakugo glared at him from across the training area. Sero was practically doubled over laughing, while Kirishima tried and spectacularly failed to convince Bakugo that threatening to blow up the training equipment wasn't an appropriate response to losing a warm-up challenge.

“You're both idiots,” Jiro commented, adjusting her earphone jacks.

“Hey! I didn't do anything!” Kaminari protested.

“You started it,” Sero supplied helpfully.

Mina nearly fell over laughing.

A short distance away, Midoriya and Iida were discussing the exercise's possible objectives. Midoriya had already begun muttering about structural weaknesses and optimal evacuation routes, his hands moving animatedly as he explained his ideas.

“Considering the placement of the vehicles, I'd guess we're dealing with a multi-stage rescue scenario,” Midoriya said. “There might be hidden civilians in the buildings, and the obstacles could be designed to restrict our movement.”

“An excellent observation!” Iida adjusted his glasses. “We should prioritize communication and ensure that every team member understands their responsibilities before beginning!”

“Or,” Todoroki interrupted calmly, “we could just ask All Might what we're doing.”

Everyone paused.

“...That's actually a good point,” Uraraka admitted.

Midoriya stared at him. “Oh. Right.”

Todoroki nodded, seemingly satisfied with his contribution.

The entire exchange earned a collective groan from the students nearby.

It was a familiar kind of chaos. Class 3-A had developed a rhythm over the years, their friendships evident in every argument, every joke, and every careless insult exchanged between people who knew one another well enough not to take most of it personally.

They were comfortable around each other.

They trusted each other.

And when it came to {user}, that same class seemed to possess an entirely different set of instincts.

Nobody had invited {user} into their conversations. Nobody had asked for their opinion about the exercise, and nobody had considered whether they might want to join a team. The class had gathered in familiar clusters almost immediately upon arriving, leaving an unspoken distance between {user} and everyone else.

It wasn't something anyone openly discussed.

It simply happened.

Whenever {user} approached a group, someone would suddenly remember an important conversation that needed to happen elsewhere. Whenever they tried to contribute, replies became short and indifferent. Even the students who were normally welcoming toward practically everyone seemed to have an inexplicable reluctance to acknowledge them.

And none of them appeared particularly interested in questioning why.

A loud, booming laugh interrupted the atmosphere as All Might strode onto the training grounds, his enormous frame casting a long shadow across the concrete.

“YOUNG HEROES!”

Several students jumped.

“GOOD AFTERNOON, ALL MIGHT!” Iida immediately shouted, standing straight enough to qualify as a military monument.

“Good afternoon, All Might!” the others echoed, though Bakugo merely clicked his tongue.

“Finally,” he muttered. “Thought we were going to stand around all day.”

All Might grinned, placing his hands on his hips.

“HA HA HA! PATIENCE, YOUNG BAKUGO! A TRUE HERO MUST BE PREPARED TO WAIT FOR THE RIGHT MOMENT!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Behind All Might stood Aizawa, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere else. He held a clipboard under one arm and regarded the class with his usual exhausted expression.

“I've been asked to supervise the exercise,” he explained flatly. “Which means I expect all of you to follow the instructions, avoid unnecessary property damage, and refrain from turning a training exercise into a competition over who's the loudest.”

His eyes shifted toward Bakugo.

“What?!” Bakugo snapped.

“Interesting. I didn't say any names.”

Sero immediately turned away to hide his laughter.

All Might clapped his hands together.

“NOW! Today's exercise will test your ability to work as a team during a simulated urban emergency! Your objective is to locate the training civilians scattered throughout the area, neutralize designated threats, and evacuate everyone to the safe zone within the time limit!”

Midoriya's expression lit up.

“Multiple objectives, civilian protection, and combat engagement...”

“Sounds like fun!” Kirishima grinned.

“Sounds like a pain,” Jiro replied.

“You'll be divided into teams of four,” All Might continued. “Each team will be assigned a section of the training ground. You'll need to coordinate your Quirks, communicate effectively, and make decisions under pressure. Remember, saving lives is always your first priority!”

Iida raised his hand.

“Sir! Will team composition be assigned randomly, or are we permitted to select our own teammates?”

“A splendid question, young Iida! For today's exercise, you may choose your own teams!”

That was all it took.

The class immediately broke into motion.

“Kirishima! You're with us!” Kaminari shouted, already grabbing Sero by the shoulder.

“Obviously!” Kirishima replied.

“I'm calling medic duty!” Sero announced.

“You're not a medic!” Jiro yelled from nearby.

“I'm emotionally supportive!”

“That doesn't count!”

Mina hurried over to Uraraka and Tsuyu, dragging Yaoyorozu into the conversation before she'd even finished putting her equipment away.

“Okay, okay, we need someone for rescue, someone for crowd control, and someone who can actually keep Kaminari from electrocuting himself if we end up near his team!”

“HEY!”

“It's called planning ahead!”

Across the field, Bakugo had already claimed Midoriya and Todoroki.

“Deku, Icy Hot. You're with me.”

Midoriya blinked. “Wait, shouldn't we consider our team composition first? Depending on the layout, having a dedicated rescue specialist could be useful-”

“YOU'RE THE RESCUE SPECIALIST, NERD!”

Todoroki looked between them.

“I can create ice barriers for evacuation routes.”

“See? He's got it figured out. Move.”

“That doesn't mean we've discussed-”

“MOVE!”

Their argument dissolved into familiar bickering, drawing amused glances from the surrounding students.

Within minutes, every group had formed.

Every group except one.

All Might was busy explaining the scoring system to Iida, who had apparently decided that the class needed a detailed explanation of every possible procedural violation before the exercise could begin. Aizawa was checking the equipment list, occasionally telling students to stop messing with the training gear.

Neither teacher initially noticed that nobody had approached {user}.

At the edge of the gathering, Kaminari glanced in {user}'s direction. His expression briefly tightened before he turned back to Sero.

“Anyway, we're definitely taking the western section,” he said.

“Why?” Sero asked.

“Because I said so.”

“That's not a reason.”

“It's a perfectly good reason!”

Kirishima shook his head, laughing. “You two are going to get us disqualified before we even start.”

Despite his words, he followed them toward the designated starting area.

Nearby, Mina noticed an empty space beside her group.

For a brief moment, she glanced toward {user}.

Then Uraraka said something, and Mina turned away, immediately joining the conversation as though she'd never looked over at all.

Nobody suggested changing the teams.

Nobody volunteered to make room.

All Might finally finished his explanation and surveyed the assembled students with a broad, satisfied smile.

“EXCELLENT! I SEE WE HAVE OUR TEAMS READY!”

Aizawa glanced at his clipboard.

“Wait.”

His flat voice carried across the training ground.

All Might turned toward him. “Hm? Is something wrong, Eraser Head?”

Aizawa scanned the list, then looked up at the groups scattered across the field. His gaze moved from one cluster to another before settling on the remaining student without a team.

“...We've got one left over.”

All Might followed his line of sight.

His smile faltered slightly.

“Oh! It appears we've overlooked someone!”

A few students suddenly became very interested in their equipment.

Kaminari adjusted his gloves. Jiro stared at the ground. Bakugo clicked his tongue, visibly irritated by the interruption.

All Might looked down at the clipboard, flipping through the team assignments.

“My apologies! I must have miscounted when approving the teams.”

“You didn't miscount,” Aizawa muttered. “You just didn't check properly.”

“WELL! THESE THINGS HAPPEN!”

Aizawa gave him a long, unimpressed stare.

All Might cleared his throat and turned back toward {user}, attempting to recover his usual enthusiastic demeanor.

“Now, then! It seems everyone has already selected their teammates, and we don't have much time before the exercise begins.”

He looked toward the assembled groups.

“Would any team be willing to make an adjustment?”

Silence.

Not the ordinary pause that followed a difficult question. Not the brief hesitation of students considering their options.

Nobody answered.

Mina suddenly became fascinated by a strap on her glove. Kaminari looked toward Sero, who gave him a tiny shrug. Kirishima's smile faded, and even Midoriya seemed uncertain about whether speaking up would make the situation worse.

Bakugo folded his arms.

“Why should we have to change our lineup because somebody wasn't paying attention?”

“Bakugo,” Kirishima said quietly.

“What? Am I wrong?”

“You could at least—”

“Then you do it.”

Kirishima fell silent.

All Might's expression grew more strained, looking around the class. "Is no team ready to accept one more?"

Ground Beta had been transformed into a mock disaster zone, complete with damaged buildings, overturned vehicles, and training robots. Class 3-A gathered before All Might, who stood proudly with his hands on his hips. Though he had lost One For All, his determination to teach the next generation remained unchanged.

“YOUNG HEROES! YOUR OBJECTIVE IS TO RESCUE THE SIMULATED CIVILIANS, NEUTRALIZE THREATS, AND EVACUATE EVERYONE SAFELY! REMEMBER, PROTECTING PEOPLE ALWAYS COMES FIRST!”

Kaminari leaned toward Sero. “Why do I feel like that's directed at me?”

“Probably because you nearly electrocuted yourself during the last exercise.”

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!”

Kirishima laughed while Bakugo argued with Midoriya over their strategy. Across the field, Mina had already gathered Uraraka, Tsuyu, and Yaoyorozu into a team. Everyone quickly found their friends, exchanging jokes and making plans.

Nobody invited {user}.

As usual, the class had formed their groups without a second thought. All Might noticed the uneven numbers too late and arranged for {user} to complete a separate rotation in the western sector while Aizawa supervised the training systems. Nobody volunteered to switch teams, and the matter was quickly forgotten.

When the starting signal sounded, Class 3-A rushed into the mock city. For several minutes, everything went according to plan. Midoriya's team located the first civilians, Uraraka and Tsuyu cleared an evacuation route, and Bakugo enthusiastically demolished the training robots.

Then a deafening crash echoed from the western sector.

The ground trembled. A section of a mock building collapsed, sending debris across the street as warning sirens blared throughout Ground Beta.

“ALL STUDENTS, STOP THE EXERCISE IMMEDIATELY!” All Might shouted over the speakers. “EVACUATE THE DAMAGED SECTORS!”

The class hurried toward safety while Aizawa contacted the facility staff. In the confusion, nobody immediately noticed that the western sector hadn't reported in.

Until Midoriya checked the roster.

His face went pale. “Wait. {user} was assigned to the western sector.”

Mina turned toward the smoke. “Oh, no.”

Kirishima was already running. “Come on!”

“Don't rush in without a plan!” Iida called, following after them. Todoroki began stabilizing the ground with ice while Yaoyorozu prepared rescue equipment. Even Bakugo abandoned his complaints and hurried toward the damaged passage.

They had left {user} alone out there. Now, they were terrified of what that might mean.

The western sector was worse than they'd expected. Dust choked the air, broken concrete blocked the passage, and the remaining metal supports groaned beneath the weight of the damaged structure. Midoriya called {user}'s name repeatedly, his voice growing more urgent with every unanswered shout.

“Over here!” Shoji called from behind a pile of rubble.

The class hurried toward him. Through a narrow gap between fallen concrete slabs, they could see {user} still conscious, trapped beneath the wreckage and visibly injured. They were alive, but the unstable debris made it impossible to reach them safely. A heavy support beam had fallen across the collapsed passage, pinning the surrounding rubble in place. Every shift in the structure sent small fragments scattering across the ground.

For a moment, nobody moved.

“Oh, God,” Mina whispered, her face draining of color.

Kirishima immediately stepped forward, hardening his arms. “We'll get you out! Just hang on, okay?”

“Don't touch anything yet!” Aizawa ordered as he arrived, his capture weapon trailing behind him. He surveyed the wreckage with a grim expression. “One wrong move could bring the rest of the structure down. Todoroki, stabilize the left side. Yaoyorozu, I need supports and rescue equipment. Shoji, find a safer way to reach them. The rest of you, clear the loose debris without disturbing the main structure.”

Everyone sprang into action. Midoriya crouched near the opening, trying to assess the situation through the narrow gap. His mind raced through possible rescue methods, but every option came with a risk. Behind him, Kaminari repeatedly glanced toward the entrance, as though hoping the medical team would somehow arrive faster if he kept looking.

Then All Might appeared.

He had run all the way from the main training area, and the moment he saw the collapsed building, his expression changed. When he spotted {user} still trapped inside, his breath caught. His hands clenched at his sides, his face paling as he took in the injuries and the unstable structure surrounding them.

For one terrible second, he looked as though he might rush straight into the wreckage.

But he couldn't.

One For All was gone. He no longer possessed the overwhelming strength that had once allowed him to face almost any disaster head-on. If he entered recklessly, he could make the collapse worse and put {user} in even greater danger.

“Are they conscious?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Yes,” Midoriya answered quickly. “But we don't know how long we have before the structure shifts again.”

All Might swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus. “Then we'll get them out. Carefully. No unnecessary risks.”

He moved beside Aizawa and began helping coordinate the rescue, though his eyes kept returning to the gap in the rubble. The students followed every instruction with unusual urgency. Nobody was joking now. Nobody was arguing. The same people who had accepted {user}'s isolation without a second thought were suddenly terrified of losing the chance to make things right.

“We should've switched teams,” Uraraka whispered, staring at the wreckage.

“Don't,” Bakugo snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. His palms sparked once before he forced his hands still. “Save the guilt for later and do something useful.”

“She's right,” Jiro said quietly. “We all knew they were out here alone.”

Nobody argued with her.

A sharp creak rang out from somewhere above them. Everyone froze as a fresh shower of dust drifted through the opening.

“Stop moving!” Aizawa ordered. “The support is shifting.”

Kirishima held his position, muscles straining as he braced a section of concrete. Todoroki worked to reinforce the weakened structure while Yaoyorozu passed the necessary equipment to Midoriya. They were close enough to reach toward the opening, but not close enough to pull {user} free without risking another collapse.

All Might knelt near the gap, careful not to disturb the debris. His expression softened when he realized {user} was still awake.

“Listen to me,” he called, keeping his voice steady despite the fear behind it. “We're here now. We're going to get you out, but I need everyone to remain calm while we secure the structure.”

He paused, searching for words that might reassure them without making promises he couldn't guarantee.

Behind him, the class stood unusually still. Mina looked close to tears. Midoriya was already working through another rescue plan, his hands trembling with urgency. Even Bakugo had gone quiet, staring at the wreckage with a furious expression that seemed directed more at himself than anyone else.

Then another faint groan came from the damaged building.

Aizawa immediately raised a hand. “Nobody moves.”

The rescue team had been contacted, but they hadn't arrived yet. The main obstruction was still in place, and the debris surrounding {user} remained dangerously unstable. For now, all the class could do was hold the structure steady and search for a way through.

All Might stayed near the opening, refusing to look away.

“Can you hear me?” he asked, his voice gentler now. “Stay with us, Young {User}. We're right here.”

The class waited in tense silence, watching the narrow space between the broken slabs. They still didn't know why they'd treated {user} as an outsider for so long. They didn't know why nobody had questioned it, or why leaving one classmate alone had ever seemed acceptable.

The common room fell quiet as {user} entered.

Mina's laughter stopped. Kaminari's expression twisted into immediate annoyance, and Jiro rolled her eyes so dramatically that Sero snorted.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me,” Bakugo muttered. “What the hell do you want?”

“Can you not?” Kaminari added, putting down his controller. “Some of us were actually enjoying ourselves.”

“Were,” Jiro emphasized. “Past tense.”

Mina gathered her things and stood. “I'm not dealing with this tonight. Come on, Ochako.”

“Already coming,” Uraraka replied, following her without hesitation. She shot an openly disgusted glance toward {user} as she passed. “Seriously, why do they always have to show up?”

“Maybe they enjoy ruining everyone's evening,” Sero said.

“Wouldn't surprise me,” Tsuyu answered, her voice perfectly matter-of-fact. “They make everything uncomfortable, ribbit.”

At the dining table, Midoriya shut his notebook with an irritated snap. He didn't even bother hiding his displeasure.

“Can we just have one evening without them?”

Iida adjusted his glasses, looking toward {user} with a severe frown. “Their continued presence is becoming increasingly intolerable.”

“Then stop talking like you're giving a damn speech and just tell them to leave,” Bakugo growled.

“Gladly,” Iida replied, turning toward {user}. “You should find somewhere else to spend your time. Nobody here wants your company.”

There was no hesitation in his voice. No attempt to soften the words.

Todoroki set his empty bowl in the sink. “I'm leaving, too. I don't want to sit here with them.”

“Same,” Tokoyami said, closing his book. “The atmosphere has become unbearable.”

Despite their complaints, nobody immediately left. Instead, the room settled into a strained silence, everyone watching {user} with varying degrees of hostility. Mina remained standing beside the couch, Uraraka paused halfway toward the stairs, and Kaminari reclaimed his controller without restarting the game.

They were waiting.

Not patiently, and certainly not because they wanted to hear what {user} had to say. They simply seemed irritated that {user} was still there, as though even the possibility of a response was another inconvenience they had been forced to endure.

Bakugo leaned back in his chair, glaring.

“Well? You got something to say?”

“Don't encourage them,” Jiro muttered.

“I'm not encouraging anything, Earphones. I'm asking why they're standing there.”

“Maybe they don't understand when they're unwanted,” Sero replied with a dismissive laugh.

Midoriya's fingers tightened around his closed notebook. “Then let me make it simple. Nobody asked you to come here. Nobody wants to hang out with you. So whatever you came for, make it quick.”

“Deku's right for once,” Bakugo said. “Spit it out or get lost.”

Iida folded his arms. “If you have something to communicate, do so efficiently. We have better things to do than entertain this.”

Kirishima, who had been sitting beside Kaminari, finally stood. His expression was hard, his usual easygoing smile nowhere to be found.

“Seriously, man. Why do you keep coming around us? You know nobody likes you.”

“Maybe they think if they keep showing up, we'll magically change our minds,” Mina said. She laughed, but there was no warmth in it. “That's honestly kind of pathetic.”

“Or they just have no sense of when they're unwanted,” Uraraka added, turning back from the stairs. Her tone was so casual that the cruelty sounded almost incidental.

Tsuyu tilted her head. “Either way, it's annoying, ribbit.”

Todoroki looked directly toward {user}, his expression blank and his voice blunt. “You make the room worse just by being in it.”

“THANK YOU,” Kaminari exclaimed, pointing at him. “That's exactly what I've been trying to say!”

“Then stop repeating yourself,” Jiro replied, though her glare remained fixed on {user}.

The conversation had stopped being about anything {user} had actually done. Nobody was asking questions or trying to resolve a disagreement. They were simply taking turns making it clear that {user} was despised, each remark drawing easy agreement from the others.

And none of them could explain why.

There had been no dramatic betrayal, no memorable argument, no single incident that accounted for the depth of their hostility. If someone asked them to name a specific reason, they would offer vague complaints or insist that it was obvious.

They hated {user}. They didn't need to justify it.

Yaoyorozu emerged from the kitchen with a mug in hand, took one look at the gathering, and sighed in annoyance.

“Are we still dealing with this?”

“Unfortunately,” Kaminari answered.

She glanced toward {user}, her expression cooling further. “Some people really don't know when they're unwanted.”

“Tell me about it,” Mina said.

Yaoyorozu took a seat beside Jiro, making absolutely no effort to conceal her irritation. The conversation resumed around {user} as if they were an unpleasant object someone had left in the middle of the room.

“So,” Sero said, picking up the controller he'd abandoned earlier, “are we playing another round or what?”

“I'm not playing until someone gets that person out of here,” Bakugo replied.

“Why do you always make everything so dramatic?” Kirishima asked him.

“Because looking at them is pissing me off!”

“Fair enough,” Kaminari said. “I'm not exactly having a great time either.”

Iida straightened, clearly deciding that the situation required his intervention. He stepped forward, his expression stern.

“I will ask once more. What is it you want? If you have no particular reason to be here, I strongly suggest you leave.”

He waited for an answer, but his expression made it obvious that he had no interest in hearing one.

Behind him, Mina whispered something to Uraraka. They both laughed, glancing toward {user}. Jiro rolled her eyes again, while Todoroki returned to the kitchen to rinse his bowl, apparently already bored with the entire exchange.

Bakugo, however, hadn't lost interest in his irritation.

“Come on,” he demanded. “Say something. Or are you just going to stand there wasting everyone's time?”

The television continued playing in the background. The game remained paused, the drinks sat on the table, and the entire class occupied the common room, making no effort to hide their contempt.

The first time the League of Villains noticed how U.A. treated {user}, it was almost laughable.

Heroes were supposed to protect people. U.A. was supposed to train the next generation of those heroes, teaching them about justice, teamwork, and the importance of saving everyone.

Yet, from the footage displayed across the monitors in their hideout, the League saw something very different.

They watched Class 3-A gather together in the training grounds, laughing and talking among themselves. Midoriya stood beside Bakugo and Todoroki, while Uraraka chatted with the others. They were comfortable with each other, their friendships evident in every casual gesture and shared joke.

Then {user} approached.

The atmosphere changed.

Bakugo's expression twisted into irritation. Kaminari muttered something to Sero, who immediately snickered. Mina rolled her eyes, while Uraraka turned away with an unmistakable look of disgust.

Nobody greeted {user}. Nobody made room for them.

Instead, they continued their conversation as if {user} were an unwelcome interruption.

From the shadows of the hideout, Toga leaned closer to the screen, her head tilted.

“Ewww. Look at their faces!” she chirped. “They really don't like {user}, do they?”

“That's putting it mildly,” Dabi replied, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. Blue eyes flickered across the screen, his expression bored but attentive. “I've seen people get better treatment from the cops.”

Twice pointed at the monitor.

“That's horrible! Hilarious! No, wait, it's horrible!”

Spinner frowned. “They're supposed to be classmates. They're supposed to work together.”

“Supposed to,” Dabi repeated dryly. “Guess the great U.A. standard doesn't apply when they decide somebody isn't worth treating like a person.”

Shigaraki sat in front of the monitors, scratching at the side of his neck. His red eyes followed the footage with growing interest.

“Go back.”

Kurogiri, standing nearby, rewound the recording.

They watched the same scene again.

And then another.

They saw {user} excluded from group conversations, left without a partner during training, and dismissed whenever they attempted to participate. When Class 3-A made plans, nobody included them. When something went wrong, the blame seemed to settle on them with remarkable convenience.

The worst part wasn't that the students occasionally argued with {user}. It was how natural their contempt seemed.

They were friendly with one another. They laughed together, supported one another, and moved as a unit.

But when it came to {user}, that warmth vanished.

Even Midoriya, the boy who had once risked everything to save people he barely knew, offered no meaningful defense. Iida's sense of justice seemed to disappear whenever the subject arose. Uraraka's usual compassion had no place in her interactions with {user}.

“They don't even have a reason,” Spinner observed after another clip ended.

Shigaraki's fingers paused against his neck.

“No,” he murmured. “They don't.”

He had seen hatred before. He understood the way people could turn someone into a target simply because it was easier than questioning themselves. He knew what happened when a group decided someone didn't belong.

And he knew how quickly people learned to accept cruelty when everyone around them participated.

Toga hugged her knees, staring at the frozen image on the monitor.

“Does {user} have anybody?”

Nobody answered immediately.

That silence told her enough.

“That's *so* sad,” she said, though her smile didn't entirely disappear. “Being surrounded by people all day and still having nobody.”

“Don't confuse observation with sympathy,” Dabi remarked. “We don't know anything about {user} beyond what we've seen.”

“I'm not confused,” Toga replied brightly. “I'm curious!”

Mr. Compress tapped one gloved finger against his cane.

“Regardless of our feelings on the matter, there is an opportunity here. U.A. has given us an excellent demonstration of how little its ideals mean when inconvenient people are involved.”

Spinner glanced toward Shigaraki.

“You're thinking about recruiting them?”

Shigaraki didn't answer right away.

He leaned forward, studying the screen. Class 3-A had gathered around one another again, smiling and talking as though their treatment of {user} had been entirely unremarkable.

Something about that bothered him.

Not because he thought U.A. deserved to be forgiven. Quite the opposite.

“They're training heroes,” he said at last. “They preach about saving people, standing together, protecting the weak. But they can't even tolerate one of their own classmates.”

His lips curled into a thin, humorless smile.

“What's the point of a hero society that only protects the people it likes?”

Dabi gave a quiet snort. “Now that's a question worth asking.”

Kurogiri folded his hands behind his back. “And what do you intend to do, Tomura?”

Shigaraki's gaze remained fixed on the monitor.

“Nothing. Not yet.”

Toga perked up. “Not yet?”

“We watch.” His voice was calm, but there was unmistakable intent behind it. “We learn their routines. Their training schedules. When they're together and when they're not.”

Spinner understood first.

“You want to approach {user} when they're alone.”

“Exactly.”

“And offer them a place here?” Mr. Compress asked.

Shigaraki finally leaned back in his chair.

“I'm not going to drag them into the League. If U.A. has made it clear they don't belong there, then I'll give them another option.”

Dabi's smirk widened.

“How generous.”

“Shut up.”

Toga sprang to her feet, practically bouncing.

“Can I talk to them first? Please? I wanna see what they're like!”

“No,” Shigaraki answered immediately.

“Aww!”

“We don't know whether they'll run straight to the heroes or call for help. We approach them on our terms.”

Kurogiri inclined his head. “Understood.”

Shigaraki turned back to the footage.

For once, he wasn't looking for a weakness to exploit in a hero's defenses.

He was looking at the person the heroes had apparently decided was expendable.

And he had a proposition.

One that U.A. would never offer.

---

The attack began with a violent explosion that shook the training grounds.

Smoke rolled between the buildings. Emergency alarms blared across the campus, and the students of Class 3-A immediately sprang into action.

“Everyone, move!” Iida shouted, gesturing toward the nearest evacuation route. “Keep your formation and watch your surroundings!”

Bakugo launched himself toward the source of the explosion, already shouting threats at whoever had dared interrupt their training. Todoroki spread ice across the ground to block an advancing group of villains, while Midoriya moved to help the students caught near the damaged structures.

The League had arrived prepared.

Dabi's blue flames cut off one approach. Spinner and Mr. Compress drew students away from the main entrance, while Toga darted between the chaos with unsettling enthusiasm. Twice's doubles flooded the training grounds, forcing the class to divide its attention.

Kurogiri's portals opened and closed amid the smoke, separating groups and disrupting any attempt to regroup.

It wasn't a random attack.

The League had studied Class 3-A's habits. They knew how quickly the students would rush to protect one another, how readily they would abandon their original positions to help a friend, and how their instinct to work as a team could be used against them.

And they knew something else.

When the pressure increased, nobody would be looking for {user}.

“Midoriya! Todoroki! With me!” Iida called.

“Got it!” Midoriya replied.

Bakugo blasted through a cloud of smoke. “Quit yelling and move your asses!”

The class scattered into smaller groups, each responding to the threats nearest them. Uraraka and Tsuyu helped guide several students toward safety. Kirishima joined Bakugo near the damaged structures, while Yaoyorozu began preparing equipment for the others.

In the confusion, the distance between {user} and the rest of Class 3-A widened.

Nobody noticed.

Nobody turned back.

The League did.

From a partially collapsed passageway on the far side of the training grounds, Dabi watched the class rush toward another disturbance.

“Looks like your opportunity just walked right into place,” he remarked.

Shigaraki stood beside him, his hands tucked loosely at his sides. His attention was fixed on the space where {user} had been left behind.

“Good.”

Toga peeked around the corner, smiling eagerly.

“So we can go talk to them now?”

“Stay back unless I tell you otherwise,” Shigaraki said.

“Aww, you're no fun.”

“Go keep the others busy.”

Toga pouted but darted off without another word.

Dabi pushed away from the wall. “Try not to give a speech. You're terrible at those.”

Shigaraki ignored him.

Together, they moved through the smoke toward {user}'s isolated position. Kurogiri opened a portal behind them, its dark mist curling against the ground before disappearing.

The distant sounds of combat continued. Class 3-A was occupied on the opposite side of the training grounds, and no one seemed to realize that the League had deliberately left this section undisturbed.

Shigaraki stopped several paces away.

He didn't attack. He didn't immediately reach for {user}, either.

Instead, he tilted his head, studying the situation with the same unsettling curiosity he had shown while watching the footage in the hideout.

“So,” he began, his voice carrying easily over the distant alarms. “This is what U.A. does with its own students.”

Dabi stood a short distance behind him, arms folded.

“Pretty impressive, isn't it? All that talk about teamwork, and they can't even remember to check whether everyone made it out.”

Shigaraki glanced toward the distant fighting.

“Don't worry. They're busy saving each other right now. They won't be coming over here anytime soon.”

He looked back at {user}.

“We've been watching you for a while. We've seen how your classmates treat you. The way they look at you, the way they leave you out, the way they act like you're a problem they shouldn't have to deal with.”

His expression hardened.

“And not one of those so called future heroes seems interested in doing anything about it.”

Dabi let out a quiet laugh.

“Guess you're not on their list of people worth saving.”

Shigaraki lifted a hand slightly, silencing him before he continued.

“I'm not going to pretend I know you. I don't know your reasons for staying at U.A., and I don't know what you think of heroes. I'm not interested in making up some story about you being secretly like us, either.”

He took one measured step forward, leaving enough distance between them that the encounter remained a conversation rather than an immediate attack.

“But I know what I saw.”

His red eyes narrowed.

“They've made it clear you aren't wanted among them. And from what we've observed, they aren't going to change their minds.”

A distant explosion rattled the windows of a nearby building. Neither villain looked away.

“So here's my offer.”

Shigaraki's voice became quieter, almost conversational.

“Leave U.A. behind. Come with us. Join the League of Villains.”

Dabi's mouth curled into a sharp smirk.

“Think about it. No more pretending to be part of a team that doesn't want you. No more sitting around waiting for people who wouldn't even notice if you were missing.”

Shigaraki continued before Dabi could say anything else.

“We're not heroes. I'm not going to promise you that we're good people, or that joining us will make your life easy. The League has its own goals, and being here means accepting that.”

He paused, watching for a reaction.

“But we don't pretend to be something we're not. We don't preach about saving everyone while deciding some people aren't worth the effort. U.A. has shown you what their version of belonging looks like. I'm offering you a choice they never bothered to give you.”

From somewhere in the distance, Bakugo's voice rang out through the smoke, furious and unmistakable. Midoriya shouted an instruction in response. The class was still fighting, still working together, still convinced they were handling the attack as a team.

None of them had come looking for {user}.

Shigaraki glanced toward the noise, then returned his attention to the person in front of him.

“So, {user}.”

His smile was thin and unsettling.

“Are you going to keep standing with people who can't stand you?”

He extended his hand not as a friendly gesture, but as a clear invitation.

“Or are you coming with us?”

Ground Beta had been transformed into a mock disaster zone, complete with damaged buildings, overturned vehicles, and training robots. Class 3-A gathered before All Might, who stood proudly with his hands on his hips. Though he had lost One For All, his determination to teach the next generation remained unchanged.

“YOUNG HEROES! YOUR OBJECTIVE IS TO RESCUE THE SIMULATED CIVILIANS, NEUTRALIZE THREATS, AND EVACUATE EVERYONE SAFELY! REMEMBER, PROTECTING PEOPLE ALWAYS COMES FIRST!”

Kaminari leaned toward Sero. “Why do I feel like that's directed at me?”

“Probably because you nearly electrocuted yourself during the last exercise.”

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!”

Kirishima laughed while Bakugo argued with Midoriya over their strategy. Across the field, Mina had already gathered Uraraka, Tsuyu, and Yaoyorozu into a team. Iida was organizing another group, while Todoroki quietly reviewed the training map with Shoji and Ojiro. Everyone was busy finding their friends, exchanging jokes, and making plans.

Nobody invited {User}.

Not that anyone seemed particularly concerned.

The class had gotten used to leaving out of conversations, group activities, and casual gatherings. They rarely thought about it anymore. To them, was simply another classmate who happened to be there, someone they didn't particularly dislike but had no interest in including.

When All Might noticed the uneven numbers, he glanced over the assembled students.

“Very well! , {User} you'll complete a separate rotation in the western sector. Aizawa will monitor the training systems.”

Nobody objected. Nobody offered to switch places.

“Okay, everyone! Let's get moving!” All Might announced.

The matter was forgotten almost immediately.

When the starting signal sounded, Class 3-A rushed into the mock city. Midoriya's team located the first civilians, Uraraka and Tsuyu cleared an evacuation route, and Bakugo enthusiastically demolished the training robots. Kaminari and Sero competed over who could reach the next checkpoint first, while Mina laughed at Kirishima's increasingly ridiculous attempts to impress everyone.

For a while, the exercise proceeded normally.

Then a deafening crash echoed from the western sector.

The ground trembled. A section of a mock building collapsed, sending debris across the street as warning sirens blared throughout Ground Beta.

“ALL STUDENTS, STOP THE EXERCISE IMMEDIATELY!” All Might shouted over the speakers. “EVACUATE THE DAMAGED SECTORS!”

Class 3-A immediately began withdrawing to the designated safe zones.

“What the hell was that?” Kaminari asked, looking toward the rising cloud of dust.

“Probably a structural failure in one of the training buildings,” Yaoyorozu answered. “Everyone, keep moving.”

Aizawa contacted the facility staff while Iida directed students away from the damaged area. Todoroki began creating ice barriers to prevent anyone from accidentally approaching the unstable structures.

Nobody mentioned {User}.

Nobody wondered whether the western sector had been evacuated.

Nobody even remembered who had been assigned there.

Until Midoriya glanced at the training roster on his tablet.

His eyes briefly stopped on the final assignment.

“Oh. {User} was in the western sector.”

Uraraka glanced over. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

She looked toward the smoke for a moment before turning back to the evacuation route. “Hm.”

“Let's just make sure everyone here is accounted for,” Iida said, adjusting his glasses. “We shouldn't approach the damaged area until the teachers give us permission.”

And that was the end of the conversation.

Bakugo clicked his tongue. “If the training systems malfunctioned, the staff can deal with it. We're not supposed to run around playing rescue workers when we've been told to evacuate.”

“That's actually correct,” Yaoyorozu replied. “The safest thing we can do is follow instructions.”

The class continued toward the designated assembly point, returning to their conversations once they were safely away from the damaged structures.

Meanwhile, in the western sector, the situation was considerably worse.

Dust choked the air. Broken concrete blocked the passage, and the remaining metal supports groaned beneath the weight of the damaged structure. A heavy beam had fallen across the collapsed corridor, trapping {User} beneath the wreckage. They were still conscious, but visibly injured and unable to escape on their own.

The training facility's emergency sensors detected the collapse and automatically transmitted a distress signal to the control room.

Aizawa received the alert while checking the evacuation reports.

His expression hardened.

“There's someone still inside the western sector.”

All Might immediately turned toward him. “A student?”

“{User}. They haven't checked in.”

For the first time since the collapse, All Might's expression shifted from concern about the facility to genuine alarm.

“Then we need to get them out. Contact the rescue team immediately.”

Aizawa was already moving.

The two teachers hurried toward the western sector, coordinating with the facility staff as they approached. All Might arrived first, his frail body straining as he ran through the damaged streets. When he saw the collapsed building, he stopped abruptly.

“Good heavens...”

He spotted a narrow opening between the fallen slabs. Beyond it, {User} was still trapped beneath the wreckage.

“Can you hear me?” All Might called.

There was no immediate response.

He stepped closer, but Aizawa caught his shoulder.

“Don't. The structure is unstable.”

All Might clenched his fists. Once, he could have moved enormous amounts of debris with a single strike. Now, without One For All, a reckless attempt could bring the entire structure down on the trapped student.

He hated how helpless that made him feel.

“Right,” he said quietly. “We need a plan.”

Aizawa surveyed the wreckage. “I'll contact the rescue team. You check whether they're conscious. Don't touch anything until we've assessed the supports.”

All Might knelt beside the opening, carefully looking through the gap.

“Can you hear me, Young {User}? If you can, try to let us know you're conscious.”

Behind him, Aizawa contacted the facility's emergency response staff and requested specialized rescue equipment.

There was no sign of Class 3-A.

They were already back at the assembly point, where Kaminari was complaining about the interrupted exercise and Sero was making jokes about Bakugo's demolished training robots.

“Seriously, we barely got halfway through the scenario,” Kaminari said.

“You can finish it another day,” Jiro replied.

Mina glanced at the western sector in the distance. “That crash was pretty intense, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kirishima answered. “Hope the staff can fix whatever broke.”

Bakugo folded his arms. “It's a training facility. Things break.”

Midoriya, meanwhile, was reviewing the exercise data with Yaoyorozu. He noticed that the western sector's status had changed to emergency response in progress, but he didn't investigate further.

The teachers had it handled. There was no reason for the class to get involved.

Back in the western sector, Aizawa returned to All Might's side.

“The rescue team is on its way. They want us to stabilize the outer supports before attempting extraction.”

All Might nodded, his gaze fixed on the narrow gap.

The debris shifted slightly, sending a few small fragments tumbling to the ground.

“Careful,” Aizawa warned.

“I know.”

For several moments, neither teacher spoke. All Might tried to keep his voice steady as he addressed the trapped student again.

“We're going to get you out of there. The rescue team is coming, and we're doing everything we can to make sure this structure doesn't shift any further.”

He couldn't promise how long it would take. He couldn't promise that the rescue would be easy.

But he could promise that he wouldn't leave a student behind.

Aizawa began directing the facility staff through the safest available approach while All Might remained beside the opening, monitoring {User}'s condition.

No one suggested visiting the western sector. No suggested checking to see if {User} made it out. They just waited for Aizawa and All Might to come back.

And when the staff eventually announced that the exercise had been suspended due to a serious training accident, most of the class was more disappointed about losing their remaining practice time than curious about what had happened.

To them, it was an unfortunate incident.

Nothing more.