1

It was the final Sunday of June, with skies as clear as could be. The perfect sort of day to go out and about, before the weighty descent of summer heat. But Izuku Midoriya was hunched over his desk at home, indifferent to the gorgeous weather just outside his window. After all, even the students of U.A. High’s legendary Hero Course were still, first and foremost, students, with all the usual tests to study for. While Midoriya’s right hand solved math problems, his left clenched an exercise gripper—the only thing hinting at his hero-in-training status.

He’d been in a rough place one year ago.

In order to receive a Quirk from his personal hero, All Might, Midoriya had hauled an entire beach park’s worth of trash to turn his limp-noodle body into a suitably muscled vessel. At the same time, he’d studied tirelessly for U.A.’s entrance exam, so he’d had to teach his hands to multitask on the fly. Now, he could almost look back with fond memories on the time he’d collapsed from fatigue, because saving people would eventually demand that sort of strength.

“Phew.”

Satisfied with his progress for the moment, Midoriya put down his pencil and gripper, raised his eyes, and stared at the poster of All Might on his wall, which portrayed the hero with his trademark voluminous muscles and gleaming white teeth.

Respect. Reassurance. Rapture.

All Might was an endless source of inspiration for Midoriya that allowed him to tap into a geyser of energy within himself. All to become as great a hero as his idol.

“All right, back to it!” he said, turning the page of the textbook. Midoriya’s grades in ordinary subject areas were among the best in his class, so he wasn’t particularly stressed. Still, failure was not an option, since participation in the upcoming training camp was contingent on passing these final exams.

“Hope Kaminari and them can pull this off…”

Midoriya’s less gifted classmates had freaked out when they learned the penalty for failure, so he spared a thought for them. Then again, hadn’t Momo Yaoyorozu offered to tutor them? If anyone could help the stragglers, it would be the biggest brain in the class. Midoriya imagined the prim and proper Yaoyorozu in tutor mode as he got back to his own studying. Hopefully, all twenty members of class 1-A would get to make the trip.

Just as Midoriya sent out his good vibes, Denki Kaminari, Kyoka Jiro, and the other students in question arrived at Yaoyorozu’s house.

“Eh? Is this the place…?” asked Kaminari.

“No way… Looks like an embassy or something,” muttered a shocked Hanta Sero.

Beside them, Mashirao Ojiro double-checked the map on his phone.

“Nope, this is the right address.”

“Omigod, megamansion!” shouted Mina Ashido, with all of her usual candidness.

A massive, stately front gate towered before the kids, with a wall just as high extending in either direction, seemingly without end. They had met up at the nearest train station and, on the walk to Yaoyorozu’s place, had noticed the wall and wondered what sort of property it defended. Slowly the truth had dawned on them, prompting excitement from Kaminari and Ashido and creeping dread from the other three. If this really were a foreign embassy, and if they’d been spies planning to steal state secrets, the gate and wall alone would’ve made them think twice about the mission.

Everyone knew Yaoyorozu was rich, but this rich? It was enough to trigger a fight-or-flight response. Jiro barely had time to furrow her brow, though, before the gate started to open with a smoothness that belied its size and spoke to its craftsmanship.

“Miss Jiro, Miss Ashido, Mr. Kaminari, Mr. Sero, and Mr. Ojiro, I presume?”

Beyond the gate was a petite man with gentle features, in formal wear. Though his salt-and-pepper hair suggested he was seventy-something, he stood with the ramrod straightness of a much-younger man.

The five kids weren’t quite sure how to respond to such deference from an older gentleman. Sensing this, he gave them a dignified smile that sent a web of wrinkles racing across his face.

“Welcome, one and all. I am Uchimura, the Yaoyorozu household’s butler. Miss Momo is expecting you, so by all means, do come in.”

“S-sure,” said Jiro.

They awkwardly followed Uchimura.

“A real-life butler! They do exist!” gasped Ashido as quietly as her excitement would allow.

“If they’ve got a butler, you think they’ve got maids, too?” asked Kaminari in hushed tones.

“Guys! Just stop…” scolded Jiro.

“Yes, the household employs maids as well,” beamed Uchimura, not at all put off by their lack of decorum. A butler managing such a prestigious property couldn’t very well sweat the small stuff, after all.

Jiro and friends passed through a beautifully manicured garden the size of a small forest until at last the house came into view. House? No. Not even “mansion” would do this justice. This was practically a castle, as majestic as those found in old Europe, and the kids were tempted to run back to the front gate and scan the neighborhood for evidence that they were still in Japan.

“Welcome,” said a group of maids in unison from within the open doors of the front hall. The visitors gaped, too stunned to speak, as a woman rushed toward them from deeper within the house.

“Hello there! I’m Mrs. Yaoyorozu. How wonderful to meet my Momo’s dear friends…”

Jiro managed a “H-hello, ma’am.”

The smiling mother was the spitting image of their friend, aged up and somehow a bit warmer.

“And five of you! I’m so very glad that Momo has already made so many fr— Oh. You there…”

“Huh?” said Jiro.

The girl instinctively glanced at her own clothes, since that was where Mrs. Yaoyorozu’s gaze now fell. The customized collar on Jiro’s T-shirt was ripped open wide enough to expose her shoulders, and to this she had added leather pants and a studded leather cuff around one wrist. It was a tame outfit by her standards.

Something wrong with my look?

Jiro thought she noticed Mrs. Yaoyorozu’s gently curved eyebrows scrunch together for a second, though her smile quickly returned.

“Ahem, Momo is making preparations in the auditorium. Let’s get you over there.”

“Shall I…?” began Uchimura.

“No, allow me,” answered Mrs. Yaoyorozu, motioning the kids toward the inner corridors. They followed at a relaxed pace, glancing about all the while at floral wallpaper, marble floors, ornate vases, and paintings famous enough to recognize.

“Like the Palace of Versailles… Not that I’ve ever been.”

“Right…? Bet this’s what it’s like, though.”

“Totally…”

Jiro was just as stunned, even if she wasn’t as vocal about it as her friends. Ashido, on the other hand…

“You’re telling me Momoyao lives here? She really is a princess, then!”

“Momoyao?” asked Mrs. Yaoyorozu, turning to her guests.

“Um, Momoyao is just what we call Momoyao… I mean, what we call Momo. Your daughter, that is,” stammered Jiro.

“A nickname, then! Momoyao… Like some lovely, exotic plant. What nickname would you give me, then?”

“Well, since you’re Momoyao’s mom, how about Mamayao!” Ashido blurted out without missing a beat.

“Wonderful. By all means, call me Mamayao.”

“Sure thing, Mamayao!”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean, Mamayao,” said Jiro.

Mamayao’s smile suggested that she genuinely loved Ashido’s off-the-cuff suggestion, but the earlier, stern look still weighed on Jiro’s mind. Did her friend’s mother have something against her outfit? The others were just as underdressed, though…

“Something fascinating about the floor?” asked Kaminari.

Jiro looked up. The boy couldn’t pass a test to save his life, but he was sharp in other ways.

“Shut up, you. And yes, I just happen to be taking in the sights.”

“Real nice place, yeah? And I bet it stays cool in the summer. Wish we could stay over.”

“I don’t.”

“What’s up with you, huh?”

Jiro couldn’t help but sigh at Kaminari’s happy-go-lucky face. No point in angsting about her fashion choices now. Not when they’d come here to study.

“You’re the one who needs to focus, Mister Bottom-of-the-Class,” spat Jiro.

“So everyone keeps reminding me. That’s why I’m placing my fate in Professor Yaoyorozu’s capable hands.”

“Momoyao won’t always be there to save you.”

“I know, I know. Gimme a break.”

They soon arrived at the “auditorium,” which was no understatement. In one corner of the grand space was a long table furnished with chairs.

“Momo, your friends are here,” announced Mamayao.

“So sorry I couldn’t greet you all myself… I was busy fretting about what materials to prepare,” said Momo Yaoyorozu.

A pair of glasses lent their friend a scholarly look, while the flush of her cheeks and the glint in her eyes told them just how eager she was about their study party.

“I’ll leave you children to it, then… But I’ll send some tea over later. Be a good teacher now, Momo.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Jiro gave a small, secret sigh of relief as Mamayao exited the room and shut the door. She felt guilty about this in light of Yaoyorozu’s clear enthusiasm, but luckily the latter was too worked up to notice.

“Without delay, let us begin the tutoring!”

“Woo-hoo!” shouted Ashido, while Ojiro responded with a more subdued “Please and thanks.”

“Take it away, Professorozu!” said Sero.

“Screw this up and I won’t get to go to training camp, Teach!” added Kaminari.

“I said not to put that on her, you,” chided Jiro.

“Not to worry, friends! You can count on me to raise your test scores!” shot back an exuberant Yaoyorozu. She thrived on being needed like this, and their expectations only served to light a fire under her.

At a nearby library, another study group was about to hit the books.

“C’monnn, Bakugo!”

“Cram it, broomhead!”

Eijiro Kirishima and Katsuki Bakugo sat at a sunlit table by a window and were already earning stares from other library patrons. Stares that implied “Shhh.”

“Sorry, folks!”

Kirishima’s panicked apology was just as loud, prompting an older man to say “Spirited youngsters, aren’t you?” through a strained smile. It was Sunday, so the library was packed with families, students doing research, and the elderly.

It had actually been Yaoyorozu who had led the two boys to this spot, in a way. While she had the best grades in the class, Bakugo was ranked third, so when Yaoyorozu had agreed to tutor five of her less talented classmates, Kirishima had teased his volatile friend, saying “That’s what virtue looks like.”

“I’ve got virtue too. I’ll tutor you ’til you’re dead,” had been Bakugo’s retort. Kirishima, ranked fifteenth in the class, held him to that.

Now in the library, Kirishima dropped his typically booming voice and asked, “Maybe we should’ve done this at home.”

“Me? Make the trip to your place? No freaking way,” replied Bakugo, making no noticeable effort to keep it down.

“What about your house, then?”

“And deal with my pain-in-the-butt hag of a mom? Pass. Let’s just hurry up and finish this crap.”

“Heck yeah! Ah, too loud. Sorry…”

Kirishima shrank, feeling the stares again. He’d never been much for libraries—the boisterous Kirishima and quiet places mixed about as well as oil and water. But if he wanted to attend the training camp, he had to learn this material.

“What’s with the ‘sorry, sorry’? You dumb or what? Oh, right. You are.”

“I ain’t dumb. Well, dumber than you, I guess, which is why we’re here in the first place.”

“Only gonna explain stuff once, so pay attention.”

“Heck yeah, I will! Ack.”

“Just show me the damn problems already.”

“Right. First… This.”

Still aware of stares from other patrons, Kirishima brought out his textbook and pointed to the quadratic equations that had been giving him trouble.

“I’m kinda lost when it comes to math, man.”

“This piss-easy stuff…?”

Bakugo looked at the first problem, thought for a moment, and dashed off the answer.

“There. Done.”

Kirishima stared blankly before giving an uneasy laugh.

“Yeah, okay, but I need to know how you got the answer.”

“How? Just work out the calculations like usual. You stupid?”

“Thing is, I don’t even know how to start ‘like usual.’”

“Huhh? All of math’s just about this basic sort of calculating.”

“Sure, so could you teach me whatever tricks you use for all that?”

“It’s all baked right into the equation, don’tcha see?”

“No, I don’t. So why don’t you explain it, nice and slow…”

“Just multiply these guys, add these other ones, and bam.”

Another blank stare from Kirishima, while Bakugo gave him a no-nonsense glare.

Still all Greek to me…

Kirishima clutched his head. He knew how smart Bakugo was. Smart enough to understand just about anything at a glance. Smart enough that he never really needed to study, to the extent that struggling with schoolwork was an alien concept to him.

“After smashing these guys together, you just take down these other suckers to solve it.”

This was Bakugo at his most earnest. Kirishima listened to the nonexplanation, held back some tears, and managed a thumbs-up.

“That was a real manly way to put it, dude…”

“Huhh?”

At Kirishima’s reaction, Bakugo’s brow furrowed even more.

“You need me to teach you the freaking times tables?”

“I’m not that dumb, man!” shouted Kirishima, louder than ever.

A wave of shushing from the surrounding library goers turned the boy’s face beet red with embarrassment. Bakugo was amused, for a change.

“Heh. You suck, and now they know it too.”

“You’re the one who brought up times tables!”

As Kirishima offered another series of hushed apologies to the onlookers, a wide-eyed boy clutching a picture book marched right up to the table.

“Huhh? What’s this kid want with us?”

“You lost, little guy?” asked a concerned Kirishima. The boy shook his head, pointed at Bakugo, and spoke.

“He’s the one who won the U.A. sports contest but then they had to tie him up at the end, right? Why’d they tie him up? Cuz he was so loud? If someone’s being loud in the liberry do they get tied up here too?”

Bakugo had in fact won the U.A. Sports Festival, but such was his fury and indignation over the circumstances that he’d been bound in chains on the victor’s stand. Now this child’s innocent question reminded Bakugo how Todoroki—the runner-up—had in effect handed Bakugo the win by not giving it his all in the final match. The last thread of his patience snapped.

“Shut the hell up, you brat!”

Bakugo’s roar echoed through the library before Kirishima could react. Yelled at by a stranger for the first time in his life, the child’s face crumpled, his eyes filled with tears, and he wailed, only adding to the cacophony.

“R-really, really sorry, everyone!” sputtered Kirishima as he leaped up and dragged his short-fused friend from the library.

While the fate of Kirishima’s training camp experience hung in the balance, Jiro was finally understanding those same tricky quadratic equations.

“I think I get how to solve these now.”

“Yes, Jiro. It’s easy to get stuck on this part, but once you see the problem for what it is, you’ll be just fine,” said Yaoyorozu.

“Only cuz you’re such a good teacher, Momoyao!”

Yaoyorozu’s digestible explanations were just what Jiro needed, so she meant every word.

“Me? Surely I can’t take all the credit…” said the tutor, blushing and obviously pleased with herself.

“Professorozu! How do I translate this one into English?” yelped Ashido.

“Let’s see, Ashido… Ah, of course…”

Yaoyorozu has formulated the perfect study plan. A thoughtful approach, with batches of questions tailor made to fit each tutee’s abilities. Questions that targeted their weaknesses, implicitly designed to teach them counterstrategies. Though Jiro, Sero, and Ojiro had at first been flustered by the splendor of the Yaoyorozu home, realizing the lengths their friend had gone to had helped them to buckle down and focus. Ashido’s major motivator? Getting to participate in the so-called test of courage during the upcoming training camp. The sixth member of the study party was another story, though.

“Ugh… My head’s gonna explode…”

Kaminari had been so distracted by the Sports Festival and the internships during their first school term that any thought of cracking a book had completely slipped his mind.

“When X and Y form an ionic bond…the auxiliary verbs that founded the Sumerian empire will…”

“Sounds like your brain’s already busted,” said Jiro, from the seat to the left of Kaminari. Though he hadn’t discharged any of his trademark electricity lately, he seemed to be going into full-on babble mode. To the right of Kaminari, Sero chimed in.

“Pull it together, man! You wanna attend the training camp, right?”

“That’s right. Remember what Aizawa Sensei said? Failing these tests means summer school hell,” added Ojiro.

“Argh! Somebody… Can somebody spare me some brains?”

Faced with cold, hard reality, Kaminari seemed to burst and deflate all at once.

“Yikes. Sorry…” apologize Ojiro, his encouragement having backfired.

“Kaminari, everyone… Why don’t we take a short break? Proper rest is crucial to the process.”

Yaoyorozu paused, turned to the door, and said, “Uchimura?” The butler promptly opened the door and strode into the room.

“May we have some tea?”

“Certainly, miss.”

Was he standing out there the whole time, waiting? wondered a wide-eyed Jiro.

Without delay, several maids wheeled in a cart with tea and cookies. The tea set was, naturally, classy beyond compare, and the wafting, steamy aroma told the kids that they were about to enjoy some fine black tea. Careful not to disturb this precious break time, Uchimura and the maids swiftly served the tea and exited the auditorium.

“Enjoy, everyone,” said Yaoyorozu. At this, her five students put down their pencils and grabbed their teacups.

“Heh. Tea poured for me by a real-life maid…” mused Kaminari, the luxury of it all rejuvenating his weary spirit.

“Mmm, so relaxing…” said Ashido as she slumped down in her seat.

When Yaoyorozu paused between delicate sips, Jiro asked, “You said this was Harrods?”

“Yes, I’m quite fond of this blend while studying. It’s multiorigin, with a complex flavor that somehow calms and refreshes tired minds…”

“Dunno what most of that means, but I know what I like,” said Sero.

“And I don’t usually drink black tea, but this stuff is pretty good,” added Ojiro.

Ashido’s eyes shifted to the plate of brown cookies and began to sparkle.

“These cookies look yummers, too.”

Though slightly misshapen, the cookies resembled the fancy sort you might see at high-class patisseries, so the group began to dig in while Yaoyorozu watched, pleased as ever.

A rich, almost savory sweetness hit them, but only after a bizarre burst of bitterness. All five paused, puzzled by the evolving taste. Before they knew it, burning, acrid spiciness. Then, shocking saltiness. The barrage of flavors hit their tongues, filled their mouths, and ran down their throats. And the pièce de résistance was a raw, almost fishy aftertaste that invaded their nostrils.

These cookies were not fit for human consumption. The kids instinctively knew this, but the plush surroundings made them doubt their senses. Maybe this was the newest taste sensation among the rich and fabulous?

“Whatever could be the matter?” asked their host, noticing them turning pale, suppressing their gag reflexes, and breaking out into cold, greasy sweats before washing down the culinary mistakes with gulps of tea.

“Not to your liking, then?”

“W-what? Naww, they’re great…” sputtered Ojiro.

“So this is how the other half eats. Wow…” said Sero.

At this, Yaoyorozu warily picked up a cookie for herself and took a bite. Her face contorted in shock at once.

“Erm… Pardon me. Be right back…” said Yaoyorozu, hands covering her mouth.

As soon as her footsteps were out of earshot, the dam burst and the other five started speaking their minds.

“Yechh, I can still taste it!” said Ashido between gulps of tea.

“Th-those aren’t cookies… They’re bioweapons,” muttered Kaminari, eyeing the plate with intense suspicion.

Always looking on the bright side, Ojiro said, “At least we’re wide-awake now. One bite was all it took.”

“And a second bite would keep me up all night, if I were brave enough,” added Sero in all seriousness.

Jiro drained her teacup and glanced at the door.

“Momoyao thought they were awful too, right? Isn’t that why she panicked like that?”

“I bet she’ll be back before we know it,” said Kaminari.

He was wrong, though. Yaoyorozu did not return quickly, and although her students tried to start studying again, the absence of their teacher made a world of difference for their focus. What’s more, Jiro suddenly found herself in need of a toilet, as the tea she’d guzzled to cleanse her palate of the cookie had run right through her.

“I gotta find a bathroom. Be back soon.”

“Me too! After all that tea, y’know,” said Ashido, leaping up to join Jiro. A maid awaited them on the other side of door, presumably standing by to address any and all needs. They asked for directions, and the maid told them to follow her. Ashido’s bladder was near to bursting by the time they navigated the twisting hallways and at last arrived at the bathroom.

“Phew. Just in the nick of time,” she said.

“Must be tough living in such a labyrinth,” remarked Jiro.

The girls did their business, washed their hands, and emerged into the hallway, smiling.

“Hang on? Which way did we come from?” asked Ashido.

The hall extended seemingly without end in either direction, and they weren’t sure whether to go left or right. The maid was gone. Dismissed, in fact, since Jiro had sheepishly assured her that they’d have no trouble finding their way back. Ashido thought for a second and started marching to the right.

“Feels like it was this way. C’mon.”

“You sure?” asked Jiro, who wasn’t at all sure.

“What’s taking them so long? Think they fell in? Or got lost?” cackled Sero.

Ojiro seemed genuinely concerned.

“Lost, maybe. Definitely possible in this house.”

“Didn’t they have a maid showing them the way, though?” retorted Sero.

“Oh. That’s true,” said Ojiro with a smile.

Nearby, Kaminari rubbed his head against his notebook, writhing in agony like some sort of giant grub. Unable to ignore the antics, Sero glanced over at Ojiro before turning to Kaminari and asking, “And what, dare I ask, is up with you, anyway?”

“Maybe, if I do this enough, the knowledge’ll just soak into my brain.”

“I think you might end up losing brain cells instead,” said Ojiro.

Kaminari nearly leaped from his seat, on the verge of tears.

“Then what the heck’m I s’posed to do?”

“Just keep studying, like the rest of us!” suggested Sero.

“But my head’s at full capacity, man! Can’t fit another vocab word or equation in there! Ugh… It’s farewell to awesome training camp and hello to summer school hell for me!”

The soothing effect of the maid-served tea had long since worn off for Kaminari. Not ready to abandon a friend in despair, Ojiro and Sero kept trying.

“Y-you’ll be okay! There’s still time to figure it out,” said Ojiro.

Sero dug deeper and said, “Exactly! And there’s nothing people can’t overcome with good old-fashioned focus! Remember our school motto?”

“It’s ‘Plus Ultra’!” added Ojiro, backing up Sero.

“Even that had slipped my broken mind…”

There was no snapping Kaminari out of his doom and gloom. He was usually one of the most upbeat members of the class, but academics was the one thing that made him shift gears into negative mode.

“Plus Ultra is all you have to remember! The rest will follow.”

“When Ojiro’s right, he’s right. You just gotta go the distance, and that spot at training camp is as good as yours!” said Sero.

His classmates’ warm encouragement was just the oil Kaminari’s jammed gears needed.

“Right! Plus Ultra will do the heavy lifting for me…” said Kaminari, lowering his eyes to the page of his English textbook. But all he saw were the twenty-six letters of the Roman alphabet arranged in seemingly random jumbles. His last brain cell fizzled.

“Nope. Can’t. Not happening!”

Unwilling to face reality, Kaminari slammed his head on the table, no longer capable of hearing his friends’ pep talk. All that echoed through his mind was a certain suggestion made half in jest by Minoru Mineta a few days earlier.

“If it comes to it, you could always just…”

“Ha ha.”

A dry laugh from Kaminari. When Mineta had heard about Yaoyorozu’s study party, he’d offered an alternative.

“Hey man, are you really losing it?”

“If it’s that bad, maybe you should head home and rest.”

Sero and Ojiro thought the cram session might have actually made Kaminari crack, but he lifted his head and smiled painfully.

“Nah, I was just thinking… Mineta said that if Yaoyorozu couldn’t help me, I could always just cheat.”

“Ha ha, but if you got caught cheating, you could definitely kiss the training camp goodbye,” said Ojiro.

“Yeah, that’s no laughing matter. They’d probably expel you for that,” added Sero.

Laughing matter or not, all three boys found themselves chuckling nervously.

“Sure. Right,” said Kaminari, now staring at his friend’s elbows—the source of Sero’s tape, courtesy of his Quirk. It was a versatile Quirk, as Sero could launch the tape long distances and use it to drag things back to him. Kaminari found himself picturing the class’s seating arrangement. Sero sat behind him, on the diagonal.

“Ha ha ha… Heh… Maybe that could work…?”

“Huh?”

Kaminari stopped smiling, and as his voice took on a deadly serious tone, Sero’s and Ojiro’s eyes grew wide with shock.

“Perfect! I feel right at home in a noisy hangout like this! Right, Bakugo?”

“If you say so.”

After fleeing the library, Kirishima and Bakugo had taken refuge at the diner in front of the station. Sunday afternoon was past peak business hours, but the place was still packed with customers. Animated conversations filled the air, so the boys didn’t stand out so much in this crowd.

A waitress walked over and asked for their order.

“The serve-yourself drink bar, with unlimited refills! For both of us!” answered Kirishima cheerily.

“Your treat, right?” questioned Bakugo, who was slumped down in the booth.

“You bet! Long as you take this tutoring seriously!”

“You think I can be bought with a few drinks? As if.”

“The drinks are just over there, boys,” said the waitress with a service industry smile. She left, and Kirishima shot up.

“I’ll get the drinks. What’re you having?”

“Cola.”

“You got it, bud!” said Kirishima, heading for the drink bar.

Bakugo wasn’t alone for long, though, because another customer spotted him and walked over.

“If it ain’t Katsuki!”

Coming back with the drinks, Kirishima noticed that Bakugo had been joined by two other boys—one with black hair rife with cowlicks and another with long hair parted down the center. They were chatting with Bakugo as if they knew him.

“Never thought we’d run into you here, man.”

“Hey, we saw you in action at the Sports Festival!”

“Ugh, just shut up already!”

“Friends of yours, Bakugo?” asked Kirishima.

“Oh, another U.A. kid,” said Center Part, noticing Kirishima standing over them.

“Yeah, we hung out back in middle school. Now hurry back to your own table, you two,” spat Bakugo bluntly.

“Oof. Icy cold, man.”

The pair reluctantly stood up to leave, but the grinning Kirishima had other ideas.

“Naw, sit back down, guys!”

“Huh? You sure?”

“Of course. I bet you three have plenty to catch up on?”

“No. We don’t. What about your studying?” seethed Bakugo.

“Not even for a few minutes? Why not? You gotta treasure the friends you’ve made, dude!”

“What the hell? You seem, like, way too nice a guy to be friends with Katsuki,” said Cowlicks, practically blinded by Kirishima’s noble aura. Both Bakugo and Kirishima responded at once.

“What’s that s’posed to mean, you?”

“Bakugo may have a bad attitude and a nasty mouth on him, but he’s a man’s man who’s just following his convictions!”

Bakugo swiveled toward Kirishima and glared.

“Don’t start in with that mushy crap, broomhead!”

“Yup. Same old nasty mouth, it seems. Even when someone’s complimenting him,” said Center Part, who seemed to be reminiscing. This got Kirishima curious.

“So what was Bakugo like in middle school, anyway?”

“Hmm… Pretty much just like this?”

“The most arrogant guy you ever met.”

“Yeah, thought he was the center of the universe.”

“You jerks looking for a beating or what?” said Bakugo, clenching his fists.

“What’s this? A future hero is no more than a violent thug?”

“Shaddup! And outta my way, you extra.”

Bakugo shoved Cowlicks aside and stomped off toward the drink bar to refill his glass.

“Actually, he almost seems to have chilled out a little since middle school,” muttered Cowlicks, once Bakugo was out of earshot.

“Yeah. Maybe?” agreed Center Part.

“Back then, he seriously would’ve hit us for saying that crap. And he wouldn’t have been caught dead tutoring someone.”

“For sure. U.A. must be something special to change him like that… So? How’s Katsuki behaving nowadays?”

Kirishima thought for a moment.

“Like I said earlier, I guess? What you see is what you get, which is why I like hanging out with the guy. Plus, he’s got real talent. Everyone can admit that, at least.”

As Kirishima talked, he thought back to the early days of the school year, when he and Bakugo had first met. Even more than now, Bakugo had been angry and sharp-tongued, with every other word out of his mouth either an insult or a threat. He’d had it in for Midoriya, especially.

“Hey, putting two and two together, you both must’ve also been in the same class as Midoriya, right?”

Cowlicks and Center Part glanced at each other and mumbled, “Well… Yeah, actually.”

Suddenly, Kirishima remembered how Midoriya had been when they’d started school at U.A. The guy had an awesomely powerful Quirk, but he was always hurting himself because he couldn’t quite control it yet. In contrast, he was earnest almost to a fault and strangely lacking in confidence.

“We knew Katsuki was a shoo-in, but Midoriya? Getting into U.A.? Not in a million years…”

“Why’s that?”

Cowlicks forced a smile and scratched his head like he had something to hide.

“Truth is, we picked on Midoriya, like, all the time… We thought he didn’t have a Quirk, see.”

“So when he revealed all that power? I was like, ‘Whoa.’”

“Seriously. We saw the whole Sports Festival on TV, and we had goose bumps when he crossed the finish line in first place. That was just nuts…”

“Yeah…”

There was a note of regret in their voices. Something uncomfortable about their expressions, too. Kirishima had no patience for those who were mean-spirited, and he didn’t understand what could lead someone to pick on others. At the same time, he wasn’t about to lecture people who clearly felt remorse over what they’d done. That was up to the one who’d been bullied.

“I bet Midoriya would love to hear that! He’d probably be blushing like heck right about now,” said Kirishima.

Midoriya looked up to All Might in every way, so he was definitely the type to laugh it off and forgive these boys. He might not even think of it as forgiveness, since to him, helping those in need came as naturally as breathing.

“Uh-huh. Probably,” said Cowlicks.

“He was always a decent guy,” added Center Part.

The two seemed relieved, and they started talking a mile a minute, as if a great weight had been lifted from their hearts.

“Anyway, don’t tell Katsuki I said this, but Midoriya was on fire in the tournament too! In the battle against that, uh, icy dude!”

“Never could’ve imagined Midoriya duking it out with someone, but there he was. He sure showed us.”

“Right? When he fired back after that one hit, I was like, ‘Holy crap!’”

“Gah, Midoriya came so close! We might’ve seen an insane battle between him and Katsuki if he’d made it to the final round!”

“What’s that about Deku?”

The three boys spun around at the sound of Bakugo’s voice. Their friend was back, drink in hand, with one eyebrow twitching furiously at a dangerous angle.

“An insane battle? Deku? Keep the fan fiction to yourself! You blind or something? Maybe a few good explosions’ll get you seeing straight again!”

“Cool it, Bakugo!” implored Kirishima.

“Once you all shut the hell up, sure!”

“Same old Katsuki, huh… At least when it comes to Midoriya!”

“Don’t you freaking say his name!” screamed Bakugo.

“Relax already, Katsuki.”

Center Part and Cowlicks scrambled to escape Bakugo’s fists while Kirishima tried to get between them all. In the process, the table rocked and sent a glass to floor, where it shattered. Bakugo’s anger was past the point of pacifying, and the other diners were starting to stare.

“That one boy looks familiar…”

“Ah, he’s from U.A.!”

“And that business with the sludge villain?”

“They had to restrain him at the Sports Festival.”

“Yeah, he’s the one.”

The whispers from the peanut gallery were just more fuel to Bakugo’s fire.

“Shaddup! You extras need to pipe down and keep shoveling that crappy slop into your grub holes!”

“Excuse me, sir.”

The hand that clamped down on the shoulder of the screaming Bakugo belonged to a stern-looking staff member. Her name tag identified her as the manager.

“I’m afraid you’re disturbing the other guests, so if you could keep the noise level down…”

If words alone were enough to quell Bakugo’s rage, the world would be a more peaceful place indeed.

“Buzz off! I’m a guest too, y’know!”

“A guest who bothers other guests is no guest of ours. And we do not serve ‘crappy slop’ at this establishment.”

As expected, Bakugo and the three caught in his orbit were kicked out of the diner.

“This’s cuz you jerks just had to bring up Deku! Hang on… It’s all Deku’s fault, really!”

“You gotta calm down, Bakugo!” pleaded Kirishima, doing his best to restrain his friend.

“Gr-great catching up, I guess!” said Cowlicks as he and Center Part fled the scene.

It made Kirishima think. Maybe Bakugo had chilled out a little since the start of the year. Midoriya had gained some confidence, too. That said, it might take a while before Bakugo’s short fuse actually got any longer. Might also be a while before the books and pencil case in Kirishima’s bag saw any real use.

While Kirishima was finding the resolve to do his own studying, Jiro and Ashido were still lost in the mansion.

“I never should’ve dismissed the maid like that…” said an increasingly desperate Jiro.

“Still, we’re bound to find our way if we walk long enough,” said Ashido, who still wore her Pollyanna smile.

“Not like we get this sorta opportunity every day! Why not explore while searching for the auditorium?”

“Huh?”

“Explore! It’s an adventure!”

Ashido was practically skipping at this point, with Jiro plodding along close behind.

“Ooh, maybe Momoyao will even show us her room later.”

“Yeah. Maybe…”

There were endless identical doors on either side of the winding corridors. Jiro felt validated about her use of the word labyrinth earlier.

What’s it like actually living here?

It must be nothing special to Yaoyorozu, though, as she’d grown up here. Jiro was suddenly reminded of Mamayao’s withering stare, and she glanced down at her outfit again.

“Hey. Anything weird about my clothes?”

“That getup? Naw, it’s awesome! Hmm? This must be the library!”

Ashido oohed and aahed over the plaque next to a conspicuously large door, and Jiro let out a small sigh. She and Ashido had similar tastes. One might divide them into slightly different cliques, but they belonged to the same genre, so to speak. Yaoyorozu, though? On another planet altogether. If Jiro’s fashion was punk, Yaoyorozu was (rich) girl next door. Rock versus classical, in music terms. Their hobbies, looks, and home lives couldn’t have been more different, to the point that their gender was just about the only thing they had in common. Despite this, they’d somehow become friends.

Yaoyorozu was, in all respects, a good girl. She had perfect looks and was always trying her darndest, even if she sometimes lacked confidence. She wasn’t stuck-up at all and was easy to talk to. Jiro hoped their friendship would continue to blossom, of course, so it was painful to imagine being judged by Yaoyorozu’s family.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Jiro, Miss Ashido.”

“Oh. Mr. Uchimura…”

Jiro turned to find that the butler had nearly snuck up on them. Maybe he’d followed the sound of Ashido’s whoops and cries?

“So terribly sorry. I was sure I asked one of our staff to escort you…”

“Ah, not the maid’s fault. I told her not to bother.”

“Be that as it may, it is our duty to ensure you don’t become lost, and in that, we have failed.”

“Don’t sweat it! We had a little fun exploring,” said Ashido, reassuring the butler.

“I see. Very well… Back to the auditorium, then…?”

But Uchimura paused in place and thought for a moment.

“Actually, perhaps we could pay a visit to Miss Momo?”

The two girls followed the butler, and a bizarre smell soon wafted toward them. The smell grew stronger as they walked.

When she could no longer stand it, Ashido held her nose and said, “Yeesh, what is that?”

Uchimura stopped and spun around.

“The cookies you were enjoying earlier, miss.”

“Eh? That fits, I guess.”

“Please, this way…” said Uchimura, urging the girls onward. They were practically tiptoeing as they approached their destination at the end of the hallway.

“Mother, please… I don’t think that’s a good idea either…”

“And why not?”

Jiro and Ashido could hear Yaoyorozu and Mamayao. They peeked through a crack in the door.

“It’s just that sardines and chocolate are hardly an ideal pairing…”

“But, Momo, the fish’s omega oils are good for the brain. As is cacao. Don’t worry—once we blend it all together with the oysters, you won’t even recognize the fish. They were in the earlier cookies too, and I bet you couldn’t tell.”

It was a fully equipped kitchen like you might see in a restaurant, and mother and daughter were standing in front of a counter that was covered in fresh fish, cabbage, spinach, a variety of nuts, spices, and many more ingredients. The girls in the hallway gleaned that the cookies that had nearly killed them earlier had been Mamayao’s doing.

“I take it Mamayao’s not the greatest cook, huh,” whispered Ashido.

Jiro nodded at her friend’s assessment and thought about it.

Unexpected in all sorts of ways, though… That her mom would even try to cook, I mean… And be so into it?

Unaware of her eavesdropping friends, Yaoyorozu kept pleading her case.

“But the fishiness it adds… Can’t you smell how bad it is, Mother…?”

“Hmm? Come to think of it, no, I don’t smell a thing. Perhaps I’ve caught a cold?”

You’d have to chop off your nose not to smell that…

Or maybe Mamayao had just grown immune after too much exposure to the vile odors, Jiro thought.

“Why not take a break, then? You’ve been working so hard, Mother.”

“Nonsense. I can’t afford a break. These cookies won’t bake themselves, after all.”

Why go to so much trouble, though?

Jiro couldn’t imagine, but Mamayao, with clenched fists, had an answer.

“These are for your friends and their final exams, Momo! Failure means not attending training camp, yes? Since you’re kind enough to tutor them, the very least I can do is provide a few batches of brainpower cookies for the study party.”

Jiro gasped and took another glance at the ingredients on the counter. Sure enough, every last item was one type of “brain food” or another.

“Mother… I really, truly appreciate the sentiment, but…”

“It will be fine. Yes, I may have mixed up the salt and sugar last time, but not again. What’s more, this green tea will neutralize any offensive odors. Or should I use curry powder instead? Well, let’s toss in both to be safe!”

Huh. She’s a totally relatable mom.

Jiro reflected on this. Whether in a tiny apartment or an enormous castle, any good mother would be eager to make cookies for her daughter’s friends. Tastiness not guaranteed, of course.

“Aww, Mamayao’s such a sweetheart!” cried Ashido.

Jiro nodded, and Yaoyorozu finally noticed her friends.

“What are you two doing here?”

“I brought them, miss.”

The butler stepped forward and gave a slight bow. Jiro wondered if he’d purposely planned to have them learn the terrible secret behind the inedible cookies.

“You two, um, really don’t have to eat these cookies…” whispered Yaoyorozu. Considerate as ever, she was wary of hurting her mother’s feelings.

This family is totally normal after all.

Jiro somehow felt relieved by this and chuckled.

“Don’t worry. The flavor was…unique, let’s say, but probably just the boost our brains needed, right?”

“Yeah!” added Ashido. “Perfect for getting us into study mode!”

“On that note, let’s get back there and stuff a few more down Kaminari’s throat, okay?”

Yaoyorozu stared at her friends for a second before breaking out into a wide smile.

“Then we had better bake up this next batch, yes? We’ll even prepare an extra-large cookie just for dear Kaminari.”

“Good idea,” replied Jiro.

At this, Mamayao stopped bustling and stared at Jiro’s clothes for the second time that day, causing the girl to squirm.

She must really have something against my outfit…

“I must say, I love your fashion sense.”

“Say what?” Jiro blurted out, not believing her own elongated ears.

“I apologize if my staring came off as rude! It’s just, back in the day, a friend in the grade above me was in a band and wore clothes just like yours. Seeing your outfit brought back those memories…”

“But, Mother, didn’t you attend an all-girls school?”

“Yes. This friend was a bit of a tomboy, but one admired by all. I tried copying her style for a time, but I could never quite pull off the look… Ah, how nostalgic.”

Mamayao was suddenly a blushing schoolgirl again.

“Was that all?” asked Jiro, almost let down.

“I’m so sorry, Jiro. I hope you weren’t offended…” said Yaoyorozu in earnest. Jiro smiled.

“Nah, the opposite, kind of.”

“How do you mean?”

“I thought I’d offended her somehow.”

Yaoyorozu cocked her head, clearly puzzled. Behind her, Mamayao gasped and said, “Ah, of course. I nearly forgot the cake!”

Jiro’s eyes bulged as Mamayao extracted a beautifully decorated chocolate cake from the massive refrigerator.

“Wow, pretty…” said Ashido.

“Um, did you make this, Mamayao?” asked Jiro, warily.

“No, I had our chef prepare it, so you can be sure it’s scrumptious.”

Yaoyorozu dropped her shoulders in obvious relief and said, “Why don’t we enjoy this cake and then get back to work?”

“Work, yeah! But first, cake!” agreed Ashido, leaping into the air. Yaoyorozu and Jiro glanced at each other and grinned, while Mamayao and Uchimura beamed at all three of the girls.

“Y’think they’re still studying back there?” asked Ashido.

“I certainly hope they are. Especially Kaminari…” answered Yaoyorozu.

“Those slackers? I’d put money on ‘not,’” said Jiro.

The three girls arrived back at the auditorium, ahead of the cake.

“Psst. Let’s surprise them!”

At Ashido’s suggestion, they opened the door a crack and peered inside. No apparent slacking off—the three boys were deep in serious conversation.

“Plan C is all about that single moment. Boom or bust,” said Kaminari, sounding beyond serious.

“The problem is the noise, right? Somebody’s sure to hear,” said Ojiro, grimacing.

“I know!” said Kaminari. “Maybe get someone in the Support Course to whip you up a tool, Sero? Like a silencer.”

“A silencer, huh. That could be all kinds of useful…” said Sero, giving the suggestion real thought.

A cabal of villains formulating an evil plot wouldn’t have sounded as dastardly as these boys.

“What on earth are they talking about? What’s ‘plan C’…?” whispered Ashido.

“New costumes, maybe?” suggested Jiro.

“It hardly feels right to burst into the room at the moment…” said Yaoyorozu.

None the wiser to the girls’ presence, the boys kept discussing.

“There’re a few big issues. First, how to silence Sero’s tape. Then, the timing between me and Sero… Finally, how to destroy the evidence in case this whole thing goes sideways. Sure wish we could use Ashido’s acid for that.”

Ashido gasped at her unwitting involvement in the scheme, whatever it was. Clearly Kaminari wanted to use Sero’s tape for something or other, but why destroy the evidence?

Oh. I get it.

No sooner had Jiro figured it out than Kaminari nodded confidently and said, “Perfect. This’ll get me to that training camp for sure… Plan C… C for ‘cheating,’ that is!”

“Come again? Please tell me I heard that wrong, Kaminari!”

“Buh?! Momoyao!”

The boys spun around at the sound of Yaoyorozu’s shout, and all color drained from their faces. The plan, of course, had been for Sero to write the test answers on his tape and pass them to Kaminari. Jiro had guessed right. Next to her, Ashido puffed out her cheeks in anger.

“Destroying evidence with acid, huh? What, and make me an accomplice to your dirty little C? You guys suck!”

“I knew you were dumb, but this dumb, really? Actually, I expected better from Ojiro and Sero,” chided Jiro.

“I’m ashamed…” admitted Ojiro.

“B-but Kaminari turned all serious, so we just sorta got roped into it, and…” said Sero.

With the walls closing in, Kaminari pleaded, tear ducts about to blow.

“But I just can’t learn any more! Cheating’s the only way I’ll ever pull it off!”

He hung his head low, and Yaoyorozu crouched to meet his gaze.

“Kaminari, tell me—did you have to cheat to get into U.A.?”

“N-no way! I mean, it was a close call, but I passed that entrance exam fair and square!”

Yaoyorozu responded to Kaminari’s desperation with a hard stare.

“Then I’m sure you can manage this, too. You’re quite capable when you put your mind to it. I truly believe that!”

“Ohh, thank you, Professorozu!”

The would-be teacher’s warmth and compassion melted the icy shackles around her pupil’s heart.

What the hell?

Jiro had had enough of this exhausting melodrama, so just in time, Kaminari dried his eyes and returned to the table with renewed conviction.

“I’ll put in the effort, Teach! Just you watch!”

“That’s the spirit, Kaminari!” said Yaoyorozu.

“We’re gonna beat this thing together, yeah!” said Sero.

“Training camp for everyone! And don’t forget the test of courage!” said Ashido.

“At the very least, let’s hope nobody fails,” said Ojiro.

Laser focused on the training camp, the group of six was once again united in spirit, and the study party continued. Jiro contributed by stuffing one of Mamayao’s cookies down Kaminari’s throat, as promised.

Before long, they’d all have that sweet, sweet cake.