3

Toru Hagakure’s scream echoed across the first floor of Heights Alliance.

“Ahh! Peeping Tom!”

“Hang on, isn’t Mineta in the bath?” said Denki Kaminari, who came racing over from the common area with Mashirao Ojiro and Rikido Sato. Kaminari’s implication wasn’t unfounded, since Minoru Mineta was a sexual assault lawsuit waiting to happen, prone as he was to peeping, groping, and more. But at the moment, their problematic classmate was, indeed, taking a bath.

“Not Mineta! It was just for a sec, but I saw this creepy smiling face outside the window!” said Hagakure, with notes of both terror and fury in her voice. The invisible girl’s T-shirt sleeve pointed toward the window to one side of the front door.

The boys gasped, realizing that if it really hadn’t been Mineta, then the peeper wasn’t a member of their class. Besides which, all of class 1-A was already inside for the night.

A villain, perhaps?

These kids had tangled with villains several times since school had begun, so one couldn’t blame them for jumping to that hasty, frightening conclusion.

“What’s up, guys?”

Eijiro Kirishima was about to take a bath himself, but he noticed his friends looking ill at ease. Izuku Midoriya, Tenya Ida, and Shoto Todoroki were drawn over by the commotion too. After a quick description of the peeping incident, they grew just as concerned about potential villainy.

“We ought to contact Aizawa Sensei posthaste,” suggested Ida, but no sooner had the words left his mouth than they heard a series of sharp knocks on the front door. The group flinched, ready to fight or flee. No time to get word to their teacher. They glanced at each other and nodded before surrounding the entryway.

“Who is it?” Ida called out, looking nervous. No answer. Ida paused and turned to his classmates with a look that seemed to ask, “Should I open it?” Wordless, fearful nods in unison. Ida gripped the handle. The kids shifted into attack stances, ready to repel the threat on the other side of the door.

“Huhh? A guest shows up on your doorstep, and you people treat him like a common villain needing to be fought off? Honestly, class A, not very heroic of you! Ha ha ha ha!”

The group might have actually preferred a villain, because the quip and piercing laugh came from none other than Neito Monoma of class B, who ignored their dumbfounded looks and waltzed into the building.

“Hang on, was that you peeping through the window before, Monoma?” gasped Hagakure.

Monoma didn’t answer straightaway, choosing instead to glance around the interior while oohing and ahhing. A grin rose on his face.

“Now that’s just unwarranted slander. I was simply checking if anyone was home.”

“Then you do admit to being our Peeping Tom?” questioned Ida, but Monoma ignored the valid point.

“How about…you just tell us why you’re here?” said Izuku, realizing that the semantic argument was getting them nowhere fast.

“Am I not allowed to drop by without a reason?”

“I mean, sure, I guess, but…”

There was no besting Monoma when he was in one of his moods. Satisfied with the minor torment he’d already inflicted, he threw the class A kids a bone.

“I came to inspect, if you must know. I was wondering, perhaps, if our respective dorms differ in any way.”

“Course they’re not different. All the dorms got built exactly the same, man,” said Kaminari, stepping forward from the puzzled group to counter Monoma’s outrageous theory. He was right, of course—the buildings were identical in every way except for the massive signs over the front doors displaying 1-A, 1-B, and so on.

“Hah,” came Monoma’s quick deflection. “Have any of you even been to the other dorms?”

They shook their heads, conceding the point.

“Then how can you declare such a thing with such confidence?”

“Admittedly, we cannot…” said Ida.

“In that case,” said a triumphant Monoma, “you’ll have to let me check, just to be sure! Right? Right?”

“Utter fanboy!”

“Sure. That’s fair,” said Midoriya.

“My eyes, they’re blinded!”

“Merci, ☆” said Aoyama.

Monoma’s cutting remarks followed quick visits to two of the boys’ rooms on the second floor. Midoriya had already received the “fanboy” evaluation from his classmates back on move-in day, and Aoyama had purposely decorated his room to be blindingly sparkly, so neither was fazed by the obvious insults.

Having bullied his way into receiving permission to “inspect,” Monoma had surveyed the common areas on the first floor before proceeding upstairs. Helpless in the face of his advance, the group that had met him at the door had followed along and, upon reaching Aoyama’s room, discovered their glamorous classmate admiring himself in the mirror. Mineta, Fumikage Tokoyami, Katsuki Bakugo, Mezo Shoji, Hanta Sero, and Koji Koda were all relaxing in the bath—none the wiser to this invasion of privacy—so their rooms remained locked and safe from the impromptu inspection.

“Sigh… Just about what I expected, and therefore dull,” declared Monoma as he walked down the hall, looking positively bored despite the grand tour being his idea in the first place.

“Dull, you say? Why must dorm rooms be interesting? They ought to be places equipped with practical necessities and nothing more. Isn’t that enough?” said Ida.

Monoma’s shrug seemed to mock Ida’s straight-edged confusion.

“Nonsense. One’s room is the ultimate representation of personal taste and style. The room reveals your true nature for all to see,” said Monoma.

“Then it is my nature to be sparkling, oui? You were not wrong, ☆” said Aoyama, looking especially satisfied. Beside him, Midoriya’s face twisted a bit.

“So deep down…I’m just a fanboy…?”

To Midoriya, fanboy meant somebody following his dreams, so he wasn’t about to protest the label. Still, he wasn’t sure if he wanted that to constitute his entire identity. His friends all nodded at him, though, confirming that they knew him as a fanboy who ate, slept, and breathed everything hero related.

They moved on to the third floor, which featured Kaminari’s, Ida’s, and Ojiro’s rooms.

“Check mine out!” said Kaminari as he swung open his door, eager to show off. Contrary to Kaminari’s hopes, the skateboard, dartboard, speaker system, funky lamp in the corner, and various knickknacks displayed around the room had failed to impress the girls during the exhibition contest on move-in day. Girls just couldn’t understand his style, he thought, but—pain in the butt or not—maybe Monoma had an eye for these things.

“Such an unsightly mishmash! It’s exhausting on the eyes! There’s plenty to appreciate but no cohesive theme,” said Monoma, shattering Kaminari’s hope with a brutal evaluation.

Ida’s room came next. The unusual number of eyeglasses on display piqued Monoma’s interest, but the rest of the room earned a brusque “Too stuffy and serious.” Then they stopped by Ojiro’s room, which contained only the bare necessities without making any sort of statement. It was perfect for an impromptu viewing, as inoffensive as a model room at a furniture store.

“A room this plain… It almost loops back around to being impressive,” said Monoma, as if he’d stumbled upon something rare.

“Is that what everyone thinks of me, seriously…?” said Ojiro, slumping. He’d received the same assessment from the girls during the move-in day competition.

On the fourth floor, only Kirishima’s room was available for viewing.

“I kinda doubt a dude like you would get it, but my room’s totally manly!”

Monoma scanned the room, noticed the punching bag and inspirational posters, pulled out his phone without a word, fiddled with it for a moment, and turned the screen toward Kirishima. The photo showed a room with a punching bag, weight training equipment, and similar posters.

“When’d you snap a pic of my pad…?” asked Kirishima.

“This is Tetsutetsu’s,” explained Monoma.

“You’re kidding? We’ve even got the same room!”

Kirishima had been less than thrilled when he’d learned that his Quirk and personality were nearly identical to those of Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, a boy in class B, so this didn’t exactly help matters.

“Take a closer look,” said Monoma. “Tetsutetsu’s curtains are made of an especially heavy metal!”

“The dude’s working on those gains every time he opens the curtains, even…?”

Monoma surveyed the shocked looks and gave a haughty snort.

“We in class B are always putting in that extra effort behind the scenes! Still, I can’t say I’m surprised that class A is resting on its laurels, thinking of these dorm rooms as places to kick back and take a load off! So indulgent, so undisciplined! Before you know it, class B will be doing laps around y—”

“The only one who’s gonna do laps is you, as punishment.”

A swift chop to the back of the neck interrupted Monoma’s mad rant, courtesy of Itsuka Kendo, the president of class B. The boy’s knees buckled, but before he could slump to the ground, Kendo grabbed him by the collar. Behind them stood Tetsutetsu and class B’s resident American, the large-horned Pony Tsunotori. Both looked just as troubled as Kendo.

“What’s the big idea, Monoma?” said Tetsutetsu.

“I was very shocked when Monoma said he would visit class A tonight,” said Tsunotori.

Apparently, Tsunotori had informed Kendo of Monoma’s plan, so the leader of class B had taken it upon herself to retrieve the troublemaker. Despite the two dorm buildings being side by side, Tetsutetsu had decided to come along so the girls wouldn’t have to walk alone in the dark.

“For the hundredth time, we’re really sorry about Monoma,” said Kendo. The group had moved back down to the first floor, where Kendo now forced Monoma’s head forward into an apologetic bow.

“Don’t interfere, Kendo. I was scouting for weaknesses to exploit,” said Monoma, clearly not in a penitent mood.

“Scouting? Hang on, you said before you were inspecting,” said Kaminari the instant Monoma had exposed his true intentions. The latter slipped out of Kendo’s grip, defiant.

“Hmph. I dropped by to hang out, and you people didn’t even put out tea. Class A just keeps showing its true colors!”

“Now it’s ‘hanging out,’ huh? Ugh, you keep changing your story,” said Kaminari.

“Such a will of steel…” remarked Midoriya, sounding impressed.

“Ah, how could I forget!” said Momo Yaoyorozu with a gasp, before marching off to the kitchen with Sato. Nearby, Kirishima and Tetsutetsu were having an animated conversation.

“Dude, I love how you incorporated curtains into your routine! Shoulda figured!”

“And your punching bag looks like it’s taken a beating over the years, Kirishima! I knew I had you pegged as a man’s man for a good reason!” fired back Tetsutetsu. They bumped fists.

It wasn’t long before Yaoyorozu and Sato returned to the group with tea and cake.

“Sato has prepared some sweets, and the tea is my personal blend. We hope it’s to your liking,” said Yaoyorozu, setting down the cups and saucers she had brought and decided to keep at Heights Alliance just for guests. The tea was deep red yet perfectly clear, hinting at a pure flavor unclouded by impurities.

“This’s lemon chiffon,” said Sato, pointing to the soft, pale yellow cake. “And the whipped cream’s got hints of honey—the perfect pick-me-up after a long day of classes,” added Sato.

“You seriously made this, Sato?” asked a wide-eyed Tetsutetsu.

“It looks so yummy!” said Tsunotori.

Beside them, Kendo looked around at the members of class A with a pained expression.

“You really shouldn’t have, especially after Monoma barged his way in here…”

“Nonsense. You are our very first guests here, so this is no more than should be expected. Please, enjoy,” said Yaoyorozu.

“Really? Well…if you insist.”

Urged by Yaoyorozu, the visitors tried the cake.

“Yum!” said Kendo.

“I don’t usually go for sweets, but damn, this is tasty!” said Tetsutetsu.

“The cake and tea are perfect together!” added Tsunotori.

While his classmates raved about the offerings, Monoma looked like he was swallowing a bitter pill rather than fine tea and sweet cake.

“There was hardly a reason to go all out like this…” he grumbled, glaring at his portion though unable to find a word of legitimate criticism. He couldn’t stop eating, either. With the harsh room review fresh in his mind, Kaminari didn’t miss a chance to stick it to Monoma.

“So Sato’s cake has got you beat, huh!” he cackled.

“Why should I care what you think, given your taste in interior decorating?” said Monoma, still on top of his game.

Kaminari snapped. “You sure talk big considering we haven’t even seen your room! If it turns out to be super lame, I’ll never let you hear the end of it!”

“And if it isn’t lame? What will you do?”

“I’ll, uh, boil your tea water with my Quirk… No, wait, I’ll use my electricity to heat class B’s baths!”

Monoma whipped out his phone and showed Kaminari a photo.

“Here. My room.”

Kaminari was at a loss for words, and a few other members of class A shifted around to get a look.

“So totally stylish!” said Hagakure, shocked.

The photo showed pastel walls complemented by tasteful white antique furniture, all perfectly coordinated to achieve a superb sense of unity. There was something vaguely French about it, to the point that nobody would’ve been surprised to spot the Eiffel Tower just outside Monoma’s window.

“Seriously cute!” added Hagakure.

“You’ve done a lovely job with your room, I must say,” said Yaoyorozu.

Kaminari slumped, realizing he couldn’t find reasonable fault with the stylish room.

“Well? When will you be dropping by to heat our baths? Don’t overdo it, now—we wouldn’t want you shocking us!” said Monoma, practically snorting in triumph.

“That’s enough out of you,” said Kendo, delivering another chop to Monoma’s neck.

“Hey, hey, what’s your room like, Kendo?” asked an excited Hagakure.

“M-mine?” stammered Kendo. Tsunotori decided to answer for her.

“Kendo’s room is very cool! She has an old wooden table and black steel furniture. Also, a picture of a motorcycle.”

“I ain’t ashamed to admit that hers might even be manlier than mine,” said Tetsutetsu, nodding.

“That bad, huh? Cutesy decorations just don’t make me feel at home, I guess,” said Kendo, looking awkward.

“How about your room, Tsunotori?” asked Yaoyorozu.

“My room…looks like this,” said Tsunotori with a hint of embarrassment in her voice. The picture on her phone showed a room with anime posters and figures covering every spare surface.

“I love Japanese anime! Japanese culture is the best!”

“Ooh, I see you’re a fan of one of my faves—Cutie Ninja Shinobi!” squealed Hagakure.

“Do you like that one too?” said Tsunotori. “When I was little, I used to pretend I was Shinobi all the time! ‘Sneaky, stealthy Shinobi, go!’”

She struck a dynamic pose and made Hagakure’s invisible eyes sparkle with joy.

“‘Sneaking into your heart!’” said Hagakure, picking up the cue.

“‘Cutie Ninja Shinobi is on the scene! Nin-nin-ninja!’” said the two giggling girls in unison, finishing off the tagline. Beside them, Midoriya couldn’t take his eyes off the photo.

“What on earth is the matter, Midoriya? Why are you staring so intently?” asked Ida.

“You’ll hurt your eyes that way,” added Todoroki.

Too distracted to respond to his concerned friends, Midoriya swiveled his gaze up to Tsunotori’s face.

“That. There. In the picture… Is that really the limited edition cowboy All Might figure, never released in Japan?”

“Oh. Yes, it is. I love All Might too!” replied Tsunotori.

“Too awesome! I knew they were selling that overseas, but I could never get my hands on one! Oh, um, could I stop by at some point to, uhh, take a few pictures?”

“Of course you can!”

“Ahh, thanks a million!” said Midoriya practically with tears in his eyes, ever the fanboy.

Monoma watched bitterly as the entire group got along famously.

“Come on, time to go. Wouldn’t want to overstay our welcome,” he said, standing up suddenly.

Without a word of thanks for the tea and cake that he’d polished off, he marched toward the front door, only to have Kaminari and Ojiro cut him off.

“Whoaaa, there. You stomp around like you own the place, criticize our rooms, eat our cake, drink our tea, and now you wanna go home…? Nah, you’ve had your way, but I think it’s our turn now. Right, Ojiro?” said Kaminari.

“Right. We haven’t forgotten all that stuff you said…” added Ojiro.

“No, no, no, that wasn’t criticism. I was just stating things objectively,” said Monoma flatly, but they weren’t having it.

“Stating the facts, huh? That’s just a fancy way of insulting us even worse!” said Kaminari.

“What’s so wrong with being plain? Everything that’s plain and ordinary provides a standard to work off of!” said Ojiro.

Monoma had hurt their pride, so these boys were like wounded beasts who wouldn’t back down, or perhaps a pair of grumpy kittens attempting to scratch back. It wasn’t every day that class A went out of its way to engage with Monoma, though, and he was all too happy to take the bait and then some.

“Huhh? What do you propose we do about this? You won’t let me leave, so you must have something in mind, right? A competition of sorts? A way to separate wheat from chaff? To determine once and for all which class is superior?”

Monoma’s rivals—the ones he loved to hate and hated to love—were, for a change, having a go at him. Kendo attempted to halt the brewing storm, but her protests fell on deaf ears.

“Some sorta contest? Sure! Assuming you’re not chicken!” said Kaminari.

“Why would the inevitable winner be chicken, pray tell?” boasted Monoma.

“Will the two of you behave yourselves, please!” said Ida, stepping between the boys. “Surely you realize we aren’t allowed to compete inside the dormitory?”

Monoma’s eyes gleamed; he wasn’t about to allow the uptight Ida to stop a potential showdown.

“You’re president of class A, so don’t tell me you’ve forgotten which school we’re at. This is U.A., friend! That Plus Ultra mentality is all about overcoming the obstacles in our path, yes?”

“Hrm, you mean to say…that we should engender that spirit of constant improvement, even in our residence halls? That healthy competition will only propel us to greater heights…? Yes, of course, I understand!” exclaimed Ida.

Having dealt with Ida handily, Monoma turned back to Kaminari and Ojiro with a look of triumph on his face.

“What sort of contest shall it be, then? I’m ready for any challenge you decide to bring!”

“Um… Errr… I dunno?”

Kaminari couldn’t think of anything. He turned to Ojiro for assistance.

“How about…arm wrestling…?” suggested Ojiro, not sounding very confident.

“Huhh? A grudge match in the wake of our tournament at training camp? How utterly uninspired!”

“S-sumo, then!”

“Swapping one sort of wrestling for another? Bah. Besides, do I look like a muscle-bound brute to you?”

“Hey, man, didn’t you say ‘any challenge’? If you’re so picky, then you decide!” said Kaminari.

“Relinquishing the decision to me, when you’re the one who threw down the gauntlet? Really?” said Monoma.

“You’re the one always challenging us, though! Guess this means you can’t think of anything either!” shot back Kaminari.

The rest of group stood back in stunned silence, watching the argument heat up as every proposal was shot down by Monoma for one reason or another. Todoroki remembered something and gasped softly.

“What is it, Todoroki?” asked Ida.

“If it’s a competition we need, I might have just the thing.”

Todoroki returned from his room with the barrel-shaped toy. Everyone present recognized the design, which featured slots around the circumference and a hole on top. Players would take turns sticking swords into the slots, only one of which would trigger the pirate emerging from the barrel to fully pop out, determining the loser of the game. A popular and beloved classic.

“Oh, the good old Pirate Panic game, huh!” said Kaminari, who wasn’t the only one grinning at the sight of the familiar toy.

“I wouldn’t expect you to have such a thing, Todoroki,” said Yaoyorozu.

“Someone gave it to me,” said Todoroki, offering no further explanation.

“Was the pirate-in-a-barrel game always so big, though?” wondered Ojiro with a tilt of his head. The classic design they all remembered from childhood was small enough to grab with one hand, but this barrel was as big as a basketball. Still, they were too caught up in the moment to give it much thought.

“Must be the deluxe edition! And the perfect way to settle our score, yeah?” said Kaminari eagerly.

“Yes, the time has come to see whether fate will side with class A or B!” said Monoma, actually agreeing with a member of class A for a change.

They settled on the rules of their bout; turns would alternate between classes A and B, and whichever class inserted the losing sword and produced the pop-up pirate would lose. Both classes furnished teams of two boys and two girls each, since that was all class B had to offer. Representing class A were Kaminari and Ojiro (out to avenge their honor), an excitable Hagakure, and Mina Ashido, who’d just wandered over after finishing her bath. Monoma won a quick round of rock-paper-scissors against Kaminari, so he got to decide which class would stick in the first sword.

“Ha ha ha ha ha! As expected, Lady Luck is on class B’s side today!” cackled Monoma more triumphantly that the minor victory warranted.

“Hurry up and choose, you!” said Ashido, eager to get started.

None of the spectators nor even the class B members who’d been drawn into Monoma’s shenanigans managed to summon quite the same enthusiasm. After all, this grand showdown would be decided over a children’s game.

“In that case, I will take a stab at drawing first blood!” declared Monoma.

He picked a slot and inserted one of the toy swords. The onlookers heard a mechanism click within, then a violent buzzing as electricity flowed through Monoma’s body via the sword. He let out a voiceless scream and collapsed on the table, twitching and smoldering. The stunned silence was broken by Tetsutetsu.

“Monoma, you okay, man? Speak to me! Stay with us!”

“Don’t plan my funeral just yet…” muttered Monoma. He summoned enough strength to turn toward Kaminari.

“A sneaky zap attack? Well played, you… I didn’t think class A could get any bolder, yet here we are!”

“Hang on, I didn’t do nothing! You were all watching, right? Vouch for me!” said Kaminari, desperate to clear himself of suspicion.

“No, he’s right,” said Ojiro, still shocked by the turn of events. “The zap came from the barrel itself.”

“So Monoma picked the losing slot, I guess?”

“That’s how this game works, really?”

“But the pirate didn’t pop out…”

“I don’t get it.”

The emergence of the pirate normally indicated the loser of the game, but Monoma’s stab hadn’t triggered it. In the confusion, Midoriya turned to Todoroki.

“Why don’t we check the instruction booklet, if you’ve got it…?”

“I don’t,” came Todoroki’s characteristically blunt reply, though the look on his face showed that he was shaken too. With a scowl, he explained.

“I got this thing from that Hatsume girl in the Support Course. She made it herself. Wanted us to play and give her feedback, or something…”

“Whaaat?”

“Come again?”

As former victims of Hatsume’s support items, both Midoriya and Ida yelped at the sound of her name. Hatsume was more passionate about her inventions than anything, and giving this particular “baby” to Todoroki was her way of rewarding him for his help and conducting a test run of a tool meant to fluster villains.

“Sorry…” mumbled Todoroki. He hadn’t been expecting a torture device.

“Maybe we should call it quits?” suggested Midoriya nervously. “This is Hatsume we’re talking about, so who knows what other sorts of tricks she’s stuffed in there…”

“I am in complete agreement! Far better to quit while we’re ahead!” said Ida.

Not everyone in the group had met Hatsume, but she was already infamous enough by reputation.

“True enough,” said Kendo. “No reason to purposely put ourselves in harm’s way… How about we put our competition on hold?”

“Huhh?”

Monoma wasn’t having it.

“Ridiculous! One shocking development isn’t enough to make me turn tail…”

“You’re, uh, not looking so hot, though,” pointed out Kendo.

As Monoma attempted to smooth down his newly frizzy do, he spotted Kaminari looking distressed—worried, even.

“Unless you’re ready to throw in the towel?” he said with a provocative sidelong glance. “Is a child’s game too much for poor class A to handle? Sorry for not realizing sooner! It didn’t occur to me that underneath all that bravado, you were quaking in your boots! But no, go ahead—slink up to your rooms and cry about it in bed like the pathetic losers you are!”

“As if! We’re gonna keep playing!” shouted Kaminari. He’d bought the fight Monoma was hawking, and despite the others’ concern, there was no return policy on this one. Even as the only actual victim so far, Monoma couldn’t back down either; his pride was worth a little pain. Death before dishonor, and all.

“We’re still in this, right, Ojiro?” said Kaminari.

“Um. Right.”

Monoma’s electrocution had put a damper on Ojiro’s competitive spirit, but he couldn’t bring himself to disappoint Kaminari.

“But you girls don’t have to if you don’t want to…” said Ojiro.

“What’re you talking about, Ojiro?” said Hagakure. “We gotta see this through to the end!”

“And I actually kinda love torture games like this!” added Ashido.

“You’re a great couple of gals!” said Kaminari, practically moved to tears by his teammates’ enthusiasm. Seeing this, Tsunotori clenched her fists and smiled at her own teammates.

“I will play too! I saw this game in an anime! I always wanted to play it!”

“Count me in too, then. Wouldn’t want to leave our team one player short,” said Kendo. It was Tetsutetsu’s turn to be moved.

“Lookit that!” he said, gripping Monoma’s shoulder and jostling him about amicably. “We got ourselves two full teams of willing contenders for a true-blue bout!”

Monoma felt a bit awkward in the face of Tetsutetsu’s pure intentions, so he grimaced, shook himself lose, and pointed a toy sword straight at team A.

“Time for your team to feel the pain! Who’s the next victim?”

“Me!” said Kaminari, swiping the sword from Monoma’s hand.

“You eat voltage for breakfast, though! How is that fair?” said Monoma, looking resentful.

“Hey, man, nothing I can do about the Quirk I was born with!”

Deep down, Kaminari knew it was unfair, but he didn’t care. In fact, he would welcome a quick charge of his batteries. He picked a slot and inserted his sword, but the zap he expected never came. For half a second, the players and onlookers alike were convinced that the toy must’ve malfunctioned during Monoma’s turn, but that was a fleeting hope. In an instant, part of the barrel transformed into bindings that locked Kaminari’s arms in place before a pair of robotic fingers extended and smacked him across his wrists. He screamed, the rest of the group gaped, and the barrel returned to its original compact form with a whir.

“That was like…shippe, right? That smack on the wrists for monks who get distracted when meditating…” said Sato, sending Midoriya into one of his muttering monologues.

“Electrocution, shippe… Both common punishments in these sorts of torture games. I guess Hatsume designed this so that each sword triggers some sort of painful response… Maybe a different one for each slot? Since I doubt Hatsume would be satisfied with a lack of variety…”

“We’re seriously gonna get brutalized in a different way every turn?” said Kaminari, on the verge of tears after hearing Midoriya’s analysis.

“And that’s why she had to make the barrel so much bigger than usual,” said Ojiro understandingly. Even the threat of a cornucopia of punishments couldn’t stop the group’s momentum at this point, though.

“Bring it on, torture barrel!” said Tetsutetsu. “I’m ready for ya!”

His sword sunk into a slot as he finished his battle cry, and a long stick with a rubber band on the end emerged, stopping just in front of his face. The device drew back the rubber band and released, making it snap against Tetsutetsu’s forehead with a loud plink.

“Hmph,” he grunted, unhurt, since he had activated his skin-hardening Quirk, “Steel,” just before impact.

“Hey, talk about unfair!” yelped Kaminari.

Monoma cast him a cynical grin. “I seem to remember somebody explaining how there’s nothing unfair about the Quirks we’re born with.”

Kaminari gave a frustrated grumble, and beside him, Ojiro timidly picked up a sword.

“My turn now, I guess…” he said, selecting a slot. Another rod popped out—this one with a slim strip of something or other on the end.

“Duct tape? How would that inflict pain?” wondered Midoriya.

The rod extended toward Ojiro and stuck the piece of tape to the especially fluffy tip of his tail, which was curled around in front of him.

“Oh no… Hang on! Don’t!”

Despite Ojiro’s protest, the unfeeling machine ripped the tape away, taking a chunk of fur with it. As Ojiro clutched his tail and writhed in pain, a trembling Midoriya muttered, “It must go for leg hair, usually…” The mundane but intense torture would presumably be effective no matter which exposed body part was chosen.

“I’m next…” said Kendo, looking determined and ready for anything, but her sword’s stab didn’t seem to have any effect. As she leaned closer to the barrel, it shot a puff of something in her face.

“Yeesh, that reeks!”

Her face puckered at a stench she might have described as hot, rotting garbage wrapped in a milk-soaked rag and left to stew in a locker for a humid week in summer. On instinct, she activated her Quirk, “Big Fist,” and tried to wave away the smell using her gigantic hand as a fan. Naturally, this only made it spread about the space, eliciting disgusted cries from the whole group.

“Ack, sorry, guys!”

Though still reeling, Hagakure steeled herself, said, “My turn!” and stuck a sword into the barrel. Two arms popped out and began tickling her aggressively. As she giggled uncontrollably, her T-shirt and shorts writhed around violently in midair.

“Now it is my turn…” said Tsunotori with trepidation. Her sword summoned another arm—one that stuck a small green blob directly into her mouth. A few seconds later, her eyes started watering and she clamped her hands over her nose.

“Nose! Burning!”

“That must have been wasabi!” said Yaoyorozu, putting two and two together.

“Oh, so this is the famous wasabi!” said Tsunotori, clearly excited to be experiencing more Japanese culture, despite the extreme discomfort.

Ashido was up next, and she gulped as she inserted her sword. A new mechanical arm stuck a transparent lump down the back of her shirt.

“Eeek, that’s cold!”

While Hagakure struggled to get the piece of ice out from under her friend’s shirt, Izuku began muttering again.

“Incredible! This torture game isn’t just about physical pain, but also incorporates smell, taste, and other sensations, with every punishment different than the last, so we never know what’s coming! I wonder what awaits the actual loser of the game…?”

Everyone gasped at Midoriya’s implication; if even the “safe” slots had such brutal surprises in store, what had Hatsume prepared for the one losing position? The very question filled them with dread.

“Feel free to cry uncle now, Monoma…” said Kaminari.

“Hah. Funny. Projecting much?” said Monoma.

Neither would budge. For the young and stupid, there was no turning back, even in the face of danger.

All eight players had gone once, so it was again Monoma’s turn. Round two featured a forehead flick, a frying pan to the head, a cream pie to the face, an exploding balloon, and more. Every slot they filled inflicted some sort of damage, making them wonder with increasing trepidation how it could possibly get worse.

At long last, only two slots remained, so one had to be the loser.

“Here I go!” cried Ashido, pumping herself up.

Her sword went in, and an arm popped out that grabbed her and swung her about. When the arm had released Ashido and she’d stopped shrieking, a worried Yaoyorozu asked, “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Fun. Kinda felt like break-dancing, actually,” said Ashido matter-of-factly.

The pirate was still lodged in his barrel, which told the players that the final slot must be the losing one. Based on turn order, the inevitable loser would be Monoma.

“Class A’s gonna win this thing!” said Kaminari triumphantly. “Unless you’re too scared?” This prompted a grunt and a scowl from his rival.

“So petty, so cruel! Is that any way for a future hero to act? Our loss is set in stone, so isn’t that enough for you? I mean, what a bully! Are you sure your career path won’t lead you to villainy instead? How horrible! We’ve got a wolf in sheep’s clothing, here! A villain in the making!”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re just scared of taking your lumps,” said Kaminari.

“You’ve been anything but sportsmanlike up to now, so this change of attitude isn’t fooling anyone…” added Ojiro. They understood Monoma’s fear of whatever the final torture might be, but neither was willing to play by his rules anymore.

“You’re honestly going to make me do this? How about an apology instead? I’m sooo sorry. How’s that? Enough for you? I knew this game would reveal class A’s true nature! Try having a heart!”

“Stop embarrassing yourself,” said Kendo, striking at Monoma’s neck from above with the side of her hand. Before he could collapse in a heap, an enraged Tetsutetsu grabbed him by the collar.

“Not manly at all, Monoma!”

“Why should I pretend I’m eager and willing? Think what you will of me, but I refuse to finish this game!” shouted Monoma, his defiant speech actually coming off as manly, in a strange way.

“If you’re so scared, I’ll take your turn for you!” said Tetsutetsu, who couldn’t take any more of Monoma’s shameful display.

“Huh? You will?”

“Yeah, cuz a man’s word is his bond!”

As Tetsutetsu picked up the final sword, Kirishima—with tears in his eyes—said, “Now there’s a man’s man!”

“Here I go,” said Tetsutetsu resolutely.

The sword went in, and with bated breath, everyone stiffened up on instinct, ready for the worst. They’d never felt so focused—even during class. There would have been less tension in the air if they’d been facing down an unknown villain in a dark alley.

The click of the final mechanism echoed through the room.

Then, a dry pop, as the toy pirate finally shot out of the barrel, accompanied by a burst of colorful confetti and a recording of Hatsume’s cheery voice.

“Congratulations!”

Everyone was dumbfounded, and Midoriya gasped.

“Hatsume designed it so whoever makes the pirate pop out is the winner! Actually, I remember hearing that that’s how the original game was meant to be before they put it on the market…”

The group flew into a rage upon hearing Midoriya’s analysis.

“Hang on, so who’s the winner?” asked Hagakure.

“Why, class B of course! It was Tetsutetsu who produced the pirate!” declared Monoma.

“No freaking way! We decided at the start that whoever made the pirate pop would lose!” said Kaminari, getting fired up again.

“And we just had to take all those horrible punishments in the meantime…” said Kendo. This brought the boys to their senses, since just thinking back on the series of tortures left them exhausted.

“No. Yeah. We’re going home,” conceded Monoma.

Though they’d stormed in earlier like a surprise squall, the four members of class B now stumbled to the entryway, where class A saw them off and breathed sighs of relief once the door was shut.

“Block parties can be hell,” said Kaminari with gravitas.

“Only Monoma. The rest of them aren’t so bad,” pointed out Ojiro fairly.

The weary members of class A grinned at each other, knowing full well that this wouldn’t be the last run-in with their new neighbors at U.A. High.