6

“A festival without any major problems? That’s something to toast to … Cheers!”

Present Mic took it upon himself to lead the toast, prompting the other teachers of the Hero Course to raise their cans of beer.

“Cheers!”

They sat in the dorm designated for U.A. educators, a structure no different from the student dorms, which meant it also had a spacious common area on the first floor. This was a handy spot for meeting up with students outside of the classroom, but the teachers often used the space to kick back and unwind. Tonight, it was the site of a casual wrap party for this group of ten, though Power Loader was off celebrating the successful tech exhibition with his Support Course students.

If class 1-A’s youthful toast was marked by sweet and sour notes, the adults’ toast had a bitter edge to it. In light of the heightened security that year, the exhausted teachers were filled less with a sense of accomplishment (as the kids were) and more with feelings of relief that the event was over.

“Cheers especially to you, Hound Dog! Great work today!” said Present Mic.

“Uh-huh,” grunted Hound Dog, raising his can. He alone had been in charge of patrolling the perimeter of the campus all day and—now released from guard dog duty—was all too happy to let the beer work its magic.

“Dog tired, huh? I bet you’ll sleep good tonight!” said Vlad King, at Hound Dog’s side.

“On that note, my bed is calling me,” said Shota Aizawa, who stood up to leave as soon as the toast was finished.

“Our little par-tay has only just begun, though!” said Mic, tugging Aizawa back.

“What happened to ‘a quick toast and that’s it’?” asked Aizawa with a scowl.

“A wrap party’s all about giving thanks and reflecting, aided by a boozy haze,” said Midnight, who had drained her first can of beer and was already reaching for her second. Beside her, Thirteen held a nonalcoholic beer.

“Oh? Is that so?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“In a certain sense, perhaps,” said Ectoplasm with a profound nod.

Directly across from them, All Might sat in the center of a sofa sipping his own nonalcoholic beer.

“Besides, tomorrow’s a day off,” added Midnight.

“Except that we have to supervise the cleanup effort,” grumbled Aizawa, but he was interrupted and drowned out by Present Mic’s “No sticks-in-the-mud allowed!” Utterly defeated, he sat back down and redirected his attention to the beer. That was when Aizawa first noticed how quiet All Might was being.

“Ahhh …”

Midnight let out a long, spellbound sigh.

“Is there anything greater than the School Festival? The preparation, the big day … It’s what youth is all about. Racing emotions, tested friendships, naive passion … And it all comes together for that one stall, performance, or whatever … If only the festival were every day.”

“Every day a festival? When on earth would the children find time to learn anything?” asked Thirteen, again in earnest.

“Once a year is the perfect frequency,” said Aizawa, nodding and taking sips of his drink.

The students could go all out precisely because it was only an annual event—a singular, valuable experience that allowed them to devote themselves to having fun, if only for a spell.

“The kids really outdid themselves this year,” agreed Vlad King with a hearty nod.

The teachers would get to experience the School Festival every year for as long as they worked at U.A. High, but as far as the students were concerned, it was three times only. It was a heart-pounding spectacle for the first-years, a chance for the second-years to reflect on what they’d learned, and one last, emotional hurrah for the third-years. As the student body changed, so did the event; every festival was unique in its own right. What never changed year to year was the students’ dedication to having a blast.

This group of educators came to that realization all at once and felt their faces curve into smiles.

“Nothing in this world greater than youth,” said Midnight, making herself blush.

Thirteen suddenly recalled something and spoke to Cementoss, seated across from him.

“The drink receptacles resembling you were quite popular.”

“Really, now?” said Cementoss, unable to hide his delight.

“It was the Business Course third-years who made ’em, yeah? They did a right job good,” said Snipe.

The tumbler design—which was a faithful reproduction of Cementoss’s angular form—had been blowing up on social media all day, and the stall had sold out by early afternoon. Plenty of students had interrupted Cementoss’s patrol to snap a pic with him and his miniature plastic likeness.

“Why not have the kids drinking outta my head?” shouted Present Mic, who’d spotted Cementoss enjoying his fifteen minutes of fame throughout the day.

“In plastic form, your hair would stab someone’s eye out,” said Aizawa. He wasn’t wrong, but Mic retaliated by jabbing his friend with that same spiky hair.

“Nahh, that’s where they’d stick the straw! Too long to suck through, you say? That’d just give their lungs a nice workout!”

“Buzz off,” said Aizawa, swatting at Mic as he might a pesky fly. Meanwhile, Midnight reached for her third can of beer, having downed her second as if it were water. Nobody remarked on her breathtaking pace because they knew that, for Midnight, this was taking it slow.

“The General Studies second-years made a batch of wonderful yakisoba,” said Ectoplasm.

“Agreed—I’m glad we chose that for lunch,” said Thirteen.

These two had had overlapping lunch breaks and had gone for the fried noodles when the students selling them had called out.

“Yakisoba goes great with beer,” said Midnight idly, prompting the others to comment on the festival food they’d eaten that day.

“Those U.A. manju were also as good as any,” said Cementoss. “So perfectly compact and round.”

“I tried the sausage, and let me tell you—crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside. Mm-mmm,” said Snipe.

“Sausage … Another great pairing with beer,” said Midnight as she drained her fourth can.

The rest of the group chimed in, singing the praises of the crepes, the grilled corn, and so on. The conversation about food stalls sparked Vlad King’s memory.

“Hey, Eraser,” he said. “I spotted Shoji and Sato cooking up takoyaki. What was the deal there?”

“Huh? First I’m hearing of it,” said Aizawa with a scowl, not all too happy that a pair of his students had been moonlighting without his knowledge.

Maybe just doing someone a favor?

“Well, it was some damn good takoyaki,” said Vlad before drinking more of his beer.

“Takoyaki, too …” said Midnight, midchug. “Great with beer.”

“Are you hungry, by chance?” asked Thirteen.

“Not starving, but I could use some snacks.”

“We do have some of Lunch Rush’s premade small dishes in the refrigerator, you know,” added the thoughtful Thirteen, before getting up to bring said dishes from the nearby kitchen. The school chef had already prepared food for the next day, which included this assortment for the refrigerator in the teachers’ dorm. In this sense, both students and staff were fueled by Lunch Rush’s healthy offerings. Tonight, though, the delicious snacks helped the beer go down easier.

“Just a quick toast,” they said. Yeah, right.

Aizawa wasn’t actually surprised that a party proposed by his heaviest-drinking colleagues on a Saturday night had turned into a prolonged affair lengthened even more by the appearance of food. He told himself that he’d find an excuse to slip away as soon as possible.

But what’s with him?

Something was off about All Might, who hadn’t said a word since the drinking began. The man couldn’t consume alcohol, but usually he would do his best to humor the boozehounds and at least smile awkwardly once they got their claws in him. Tonight, though, he sat silently, gazing at the floor and taking tiny sips of his nonalcoholic beer every so often.

“Oh, and Snipe!” said Vlad King. “I heard how you laid waste to that shooting gallery from the Support Course third-years!”

“No restraint at all? How deliciously immature of you,” quipped Midnight.

“They set that up solely to square off against me, so I had to go in guns blazin’,” said Snipe, in his own defense.

Throughout the conversation, All Might remained silent, and now Present Mic took notice too.

“Yo, All Might! What’s with the shrinking violet act all of a sudden? When’d you turn into a wallflower?”

This got Cementoss’s attention as well.

“Is everything okay?” he asked with genuine concern, turning to All Might. The latter finally looked up and realized all eyes were on him.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said, still looking gloomy.

“Our colleague is dispirited over the incident concerning Midoriya of class 1-A,” explained Ectoplasm.

“Ahh,” said the others in understanding. They had heard how Izuku Midoriya—whose Quirk resembled All Might’s—had fought with a rogue planning to disrupt U.A.’s School Festival. When the festival had begun and Midoriya still hadn’t returned from his shopping trip, All Might had grown understandably distressed.

“Again, he shouldered that burden all alone instead of reaching out for help …” muttered All Might with a deep sigh, which seemed very out of character.

“Are you getting tipsy on this alcohol-free stuff?” asked Midnight as she reached for All Might’s can to double-check the label. Beside her, Aizawa adopted a grave expression and voiced his opinion.

“Yeah. Just like a certain hero we all know.”

Aizawa was frustrated in his own way, but not nearly as much as Hound Dog, who stood with a start.

“I say the boy’s homeroom teacher and assistant homeroom teacher are grrrrr! Your student, your responsibility bow-wow-wow!”

As the school life supervisor, Hound Dog was known for his strict ways, but his harsh attitude came from a place of love and his drive to prioritize student safety. At the time, Midoriya had done his best to downplay the epic battle against Gentle Criminal, but Hound Dog’s sharp nose had sniffed out how serious it had really been. His rage now exploded at the two men most responsible for the boy’s safety, and in the face of that anger, they could only apologize.

“Sorry …” muttered Aizawa.

“There’s no excuse …” added All Might.

“Grrrr!”

“Hound Dog, buddy—sit down, drink your beer, and relax,” said Vlad King, giving his nearly frothing colleague some pats and rubs on the back. The school life supervisor chugged the beer in one go, as if to quench the fire within him.

“The boy’s mother trusted me with him,” said All Might, “so earlier, when I was wondering if something really had happened to him …I felt the way I imagine a parent does all the time. No, I’m sure even that was only a small taste of how an actual parent must worry …”

All Might recalled his promise to Midoriya’s mother and felt his determination grow anew. Across the table, Midnight gave her colleague an earnest smile as she popped open another of her countless beer cans.

“You just described being a teacher,” she said.

The responsibility of watching over a person raised with care by another. No amount of worrying would ever be quite enough, because for these teachers, the students they witnessed growing up day by day were as near and dear to them as children of their own.

“Yes, we must care for them,” said Thirteen, nodding and getting worked up. “But worrying alone won’t help them mature. We must be as strict as drill sergeants in the classroom!”

“You? Strict? I can’t picture it, space boy!” mocked Present Mic.

“Nonsense! I can be unforgiving when the situation demands!”

“It’s all a matter of carrot and stick, right?” said Midnight. “I could give you lessons sometime.”

“I believe in your case it’s more like carrot and whip, Midnight,” came Thirteen’s calm rebuttal.

Seeing the rest of the group grin at this little exchange, All Might nodded and said, “Yes …I guess you’re right.” Students would never grow up right if the adults in the room could only ever worry, and that applied to the teachers as well.

“I’ll try harder, Aizawa!” declared All Might.

“At what? Where’s this coming from?” said Aizawa.

“I mean, as a teacher!” said All Might, taking the first big swig of his drink that night.

“Don’t knock yourself out,” said a surprised Aizawa, muffling his retort with his beer can.

Cementoss suddenly remembered Aizawa’s newest charge.

“How was little Eri’s day?” he asked.

“I think she had fun. With Midoriya and Togata around, she was able to relax,” said Aizawa. The group sighed in relief, and Thirteen said “Thank goodness!” with one hand at his chest. This sparked a conversation about whether Eri should live on the first floor of the teachers’ dorm or have her room next to Aizawa’s, or what have you.

“As we will be having a small child living among us,” said Ectoplasm, “we will need to mind ourselves more than ever, going forward.”

“That’s right—we gotta set good examples for the girl,” agreed Hound Dog, who had finally cooled his head and who apparently thought himself the school life supervisor for the teachers as well.

“I’ll do my best to teach her which men to fall for and which to avoid like the plague,” said Midnight.

“I think you’re failing the role model litmus test already, Midnight,” warned Cementoss flatly.

Midnight chuckled. “Joking! Obviously. But for real, we’ll need to buy a whole wardrobe for Eri … Oh. Right.”

Everyone but Aizawa flinched at the mention of Eri’s clothing and—after a pause—began to tremble. Present Mic stood up and broke the silence.

“Those wide-eyed kitties!” he shouted, releasing the floodgates and triggering a round of laughter.

“Ugh, why’d you have to remind us?” said Midnight.

Mic was referring to the clothing Aizawa had bought for Eri when the nurse at the hospital had said she needed an outfit for going out and about. As a cat lover, he’d chosen an extremely tacky sweater and matching bottoms, both covered with frills and images of cartoonish cats with sparkling puppy dog eyes. The bottoms had an especially intense energy to them, since the cats on the thighs seemed to charge forward with every step. Realizing that Aizawa couldn’t be trusted with matters of fashion, the nurse had picked out an adorable jumper skirt, blouse, and pair of shoes for Eri, which had no doubt saved her from unwanted attention at the festival.

“I thought my choice was just as cute …” said Aizawa.

He was unable to accept that the cat-covered clothes weren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but when he’d seen Eri’s smile upon being presented by the nurse with the more socially acceptable outfit, he’d held his tongue.

“Hang on, maybe the guy who couldn’t care less about food, fashion, and living spaces shouldn’t be the one taking care of a little girl,” said Present Mic. “You’ve been dressed in all black since as far back as I can remember, bud! What’re you s’posed to be anyway? Crow-Man?”

Aizawa’s old classmate wasn’t holding back, so All Might stepped up to defend the maligned teacher.

“But high fashion is supposed to be the kind of stuff you can’t really wear while walking around in public. In that sense, Aizawa’s choices are cutting edge.”

“That doesn’t amount to much of a defense,” said Midnight.

“Who cares what the clothes look like as long as they’re wearable …” pouted Aizawa before taking another sip of his beer. His interest in fashion went about as far as the question “Is this enough to cover my body?”

“Anyhow,” said Thirteen, changing the subject, “I hear that class A’s live performance was out of this world.”

“Yeah,” said Aizawa, his expression softening. “They tried their best for sure.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mr. Humble over here! They raised the damn roof! I was planning to just pop in for a peek, but I ended up boogying ’til the very end!” said Mic.

“Weren’t you supposed to be patrolling?” asked Midnight with a smirk.

“Patrolling the dance floor, sure!” retorted Mic without missing a beat.

Ectoplasm—a lover of karaoke—peered around the others to glance at Aizawa.

“I wish I could have attended. They say the music itself was amazing, and the lead vocalist, in particular, was incredible.”

“A ‘sexy, husky, cute voice,’ as the kids put it!” said Mic.

“Ah, if only I could have heard that,” said Ectoplasm, lamenting the fact that he had missed Kyoka Jiro’s performance. For a second he thought about asking the girl to karaoke so he could hear this legendary voice in person, but Ectoplasm immediately decided that that wouldn’t be good for a handful of reasons.

“The girl comes from a musical family, yeah?” asked Present Mic.

“Uh-huh,” said Aizawa.

“When a kid’s allowed to practice what they like, and when the parents encourage it, that’s how you get polished talent like that. And you could tell, with the whole performance, that they didn’t want us in the audience getting bored for even a second. With the band up there rocking the house and the crowd dancing their pants off, I was ready to run up on stage and join ’em! Might’ve, too, if Eraser here hadn’t stopped me!”

“I’m not sure why a grown man needed me to stop him from ruining a show put on by children,” said Aizawa, who was getting fed up with Mic’s antics.

“That’s how crazy this show was!” said Mic, ignoring Aizawa’s jab altogether.

Hearing this no-holds-barred praise of class A from Mic, Vlad King wasted no time in clearing his throat and interjecting.

“Yeah, yeah, class A did great. So I hear. But my class B put on one heckuva play.”

“That’s what they’re saying,” said Snipe. “The kids in that audience were hollerin’ about it afterward.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” said Cementoss, earning a smile from Vlad.

“Heh, my kids put together a 100 hundred percent original script from scratch. Sure, some of the plot points were forced, but apparently it was cuz they ran into all sorts of trouble backstage. These are my kids we’re talking about, though, so those scamps banded together, found solutions, and saw the whole thing through! They never cease to amaze!”

Vlad drained his beer, nearly moved to tears by thoughts of class B.

This wrap party was turning into more of a recap meeting, but as Aizawa glanced around at his colleagues enjoying themselves, he decided to stay at least a little longer. These teachers had to keep their wits about them at all times for their students’ safety, but getting to see those same students cutting loose was a surefire way to lighten that burden, if only a little. There was something infectious about pure, unbridled fun, after all.

“We really have the principal to thank for all this,” said Midnight soberly. The others nodded in agreement, as the School Festival wouldn’t have been possible without Principal Nezu’s efforts. When the national police agency’s demands had put him between a rock and a hard place, he had stood his ground and begged the commissioner-general to let U.A. hold its festival. That unwavering dedication to the students reminded the teachers why they were teachers to begin with, because despite his cute and fuzzy exterior, Principal Nezu was a principled educator.

“He’s in charge here for a reason,” added Cementoss.

All Might nodded and said, “I can see that.”

“How lucky are we? Getting to work under a boss like him!” said an emotional Vlad King, squeezing the bridge of his nose as if to physically hold back the tears. Hound Dog gave his friend a few empathetic pats on the shoulder.

The entire group agreed, and they all began expressing how grateful they were for Principal Nezu. When it came to educational issues or even problems in their personal lives, the teachers could always rely on him to help them figure things out, almost as a parent would. He was as much their teacher as they were the children’s, and that earned him deep respect from one and all.

“Did he get to enjoy the festival himself?” asked Present Mic.

“He was watching over the kids as they had fun, at any rate,” said Midnight.

“I only hope that we can hold next year’s festival free of fear and doubt,” said Thirteen.

“Agreed,” said Aizawa, sipping his beer.

Midnight hung her head.

“With the reduced scale this year, we didn’t even get to plan our own event.”

“Oh? Do teachers usually participate?” asked All Might.

“Yeah, usually,” said Midnight, popping open another beer. “Just little things, like the group gymnastics last year, or the cheer squad the year before. And the year before that was …what, again?”

“A choral performance. I wouldn’t mind a repeat of that,” said Ectoplasm, leaning forward. Aizawa wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about the idea.

Why don’t we just scrap it permanently?

But he decided not to voice this opinion, lest he rain on any parades. All Might, in particular, suddenly seemed to have stars in his eyes.

“Interesting! The teachers never actually participated when I was going to school here,” he said.

“Speaking of,” said Cementoss, “what sort of things did your class do for the festival, All Might?”

“A maid and butler cafe, for one. That whole concept was just getting popular, at the time.”

“My class did a routine with dominoes,” said Midnight, still gulping down beer.

“Huh? You allowed customers to knock over lines of dominoes?” asked Thirteen.

“Nuh-uh, the customers lined them up, and I would be positioned at the starting point, threatening to knock them all over. Which I always would, in the end.”

“Then why go to the trouble of setting them up at all?” asked All Might, clearly not getting the gist.

“There are types out there who can’t get enough of being teased like that,” said Cementoss in his characteristic flat tone.

“It was a roaring success, I’ll have you know,” said Midnight. “What about you, Cementoss?”

“I did a rakugo comedy sketch.”

“A man as composed as you are would make a splendid performer. Did you pick a well-known routine?” asked Ectoplasm.

“Yes, it was ‘Scared of Manju.’”

“How appropriate. And you, Thirteen?” asked Midnight.

“We did a botanical cafe. Filling the classroom with plants and mist sprayers created a supremely soothing dining experience.”

“That sounds great,” said All Might.

“The menu was full of herbal teas and other drinks that are gentle on the body,” added Thirteen.

“I wish I could have experienced it,” said a smiling All Might, to which Thirteen replied, “We would have loved to have had you there.” Present Mic couldn’t sit by while the nonalcoholic duo had a pleasant conversation, so he grabbed Aizawa by the shoulder and butted in.

“We did a good ol’ fashion haunted house! And Eraser made for one scary monster, lemme tell you! No special costume—all he had to do was stand there!”

“But thanks to your ‘Monster Mash Rap,’” said Aizawa, untangling himself from Mic’s arm, “it wasn’t scary at all, and everyone hated it.”

“What can I say? I’m generations ahead, in terms of style!”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m looking forward to a future without you.”

“Ouch, Sho! What’s wrong with a haunted house with a little extra flair? Back me up, guys!”

“No thanks,” said Midnight. “I prefer to be actually scared.” Across from her, Snipe recalled his own school festival and spoke up.

“We did a ‘Duel It Yourself’ Western-style saloon cafe. Guests would play the part of the lone gunslinger from outta town, and we’d have ’em catching mugs we’d slide down the bar counter, getting all tangled up with the locals, and ending things with a quick-draw duel.”

“Very interesting,” said Cementoss.

“Sounds elaborate,” said All Might.

“My class had a choral cafe. It was delightful,” said Ectoplasm wistfully.

He sure loves singing.

Before Aizawa could comment, though, Present Mic shouted across the table to Vlad King and Hound Dog.

“What about you two? We’re dying to hear!”

“Drag cafe,” mumbled Vlad King, as if something bitter were caught in his throat.

“Me too,” said Hound Dog with a start.

“Ahh, that’s a popular choice at school festivals. I remember seeing a few in my time,” said Midnight.

“The girls were crazy about the idea, for some reason …” said Vlad.

“Ours was decided by popular vote,” added Hound Dog.

“What’s the matter, boys? That sounds like a quick, easy way to step out of your shoes and into some unfamiliar ones, so to speak.”

All of a sudden, Midnight was the voice of authority on school festivals and their place in the lives of adolescents.

“Got any photos?” she asked.

Both men shook their heads with vigor, and Vlad King let out a frustrated sigh.

“Can you imagine? I took home the prize at the bodybuilding contest, and then they stuffed me into girls’ clothes …”

“Oh? Like a beauty pageant for the boys? How exciting!” said Thirteen.

“Yeah, the Mister Muscles contest!” said Vlad, striking a pose.

“I see,” said Thirteen.

“I’ve won many a beauty pageant in my day,” said Midnight.

“Yeah. I bet,” said Vlad.

“Since kindergarten,” she added, and the others struggled to imagine a tiny Midnight at that age.

“Even in kindergarten? Really?” asked Thirteen, tilting his head.

“Of course our Midnight was the queen of the night ever since she was a tiny tot!” said Present Mic mockingly.

Midnight blushed. “All this talk has me aching to join another school festival …” she said through hot, heavy breaths.

“But we’ve only just …”

Before Thirteen could finish his sentence, Midnight cut him off and went on. “Yes, yes, I know. But don’t you ever wish …you could go back to your younger days?”

“Totally!” said Present Mic. “Specially since we didn’t get to do our own thing this year!”

Reminiscing about past school festivals felt like the key to accessing the teachers’ youth, and they all nodded in agreement.

“That doesn’t mean we can put on our own special festival, though,” said Cementoss, who felt the same as the others but was trying to be pragmatic.

Midnight twisted around in her seat. “How about just a taste …? Oh, we could have a little impromptu talent show!”

Midnight’s suggestion came as a shock at first, but as the others began to warm up to the idea, the queen of the night pounced.

“Instead of full-blown events, we could each perform some sort of party trick? Well?”

If that were all it would take to indulge that school festival itch, why not? Understanding what Midnight was proposing, Vlad King suddenly stood up.

“I’ll go first …” he said. “Presenting … the muscle wave!”

He stripped off his shirt, struck a pose, and started flexing—first with one arm, then his pecs, then the other arm—back and forth in rhythm so that some unseen force seemed to be rippling through his muscles.

“Lemme hang ten on those biceps!” shouted Mic, getting worked up. “Surf’s up!”

“H-how ripped!” said All Might, feeling obligated to remark on anything to do with muscles.

Midnight guzzled her beer while admiring the wave.

“Muscles are just another thing that goes with beer. Yummm,” she said.

Apparently, the versatile beer could pair with just about anything, though Aizawa’s frown indicated that he clearly didn’t agree.

I knew I should’ve snuck out sooner …

He also knew that if he tried to escape now, Midnight and Present Mic would drag him back, saying, “Show us your party trick first.” Unsure how to proceed, Aizawa watched as a satisfied Vlad King finished the muscle wave, sat back down, and gave Hound Dog a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Hound Dog’s not about to let me steal the show, are you, buddy? Go ahead and show ’em … your super sniffer!”

Hound Dog’s ears pricked up. “Who, me?” he said, clearly not expecting to be called out next.

“His sniffer, though?” asked Midnight. “Is that really a party trick? Or more of a trademark skill? Or just his moneymaker?”

“Nah, listen—when Hound Dog focuses, he can tell where someone’s been and what they’ve been up to. Go on, man! Show ’em how it works!” said Vlad.

Inspired by his friend’s enthusiasm, Hound Dog said “Okay” and closed his eyes, placing himself in the zone to sniff out the slightest hints of someone’s goings-on. The teachers glanced around, gestured at each other, and decided to place Snipe’s hat in front of Hound Dog.

“Well, what can you tell us?” asked Vlad.

“This is …Snipe’s hat. At lunchtime, he ate wieners and chili con carne, with oolong tea on the side. The kids’ shooting gallery was tougher than he thought, going in. My nose is telling me he actually had to focus. And, wait … He also ate some cotton candy? Unexpected.”

“The squirts asked me to sample some,” explained Snipe, the shock plain on his face. The others oohed and aahed at Hound Dog’s assessment.

“You’re fit to be man’s best friend, pal!” said Vlad, who was moved to the point of tears and already quite drunk.

“Take it easy, there,” said Hound Dog, rubbing his friend’s back.

Aizawa took the opportunity to shoot his hand up. “Okay, I’m next,” he said.

“Whoa! Eraser, volunteering? First time for everything!” said Present Mic.

“What on earth has gotten into you?” asked Thirteen.

They all knew that party pooper Aizawa was usually the first to call it a night, so his unexpected assertiveness put all eyes on him. He paused before speaking again.

“I’ll fall asleep in exactly two seconds.”

As promised, two seconds later, Aizawa’s head flopped back against the couch, and he was out like a light. Even if his body couldn’t escape the interminable wrap party, at least his mind could find solace in slumberland.

“Hey! Eraser! Little Sho! Power-Saver Sho! Snooze Master!”

But not even Present Mic’s litany of nicknames could rouse Aizawa from his willful sleep.

“The Great Nap Escape …” mumbled Midnight, naming the party trick.

“W-well, I guess I’ll go next,” said All Might timidly, since those closest to him had already had their turns. “How about a killer joke from my time in the States …?”

The others turned their eyes to him, excited to hear a joke from the greatest hero of all time.

“So, I was fighting this villain, and I won—but when the cops showed up, they arrested me instead. Why, you ask? Because I’d gotten the emergency call while in the bath and didn’t have time to throw on anything! Well …? Well?”

The explosive laughter All Might was hoping for never came.

“Of course they’d arrest you. Duh,” said Midnight, who did her hero duties while straddling the line of acceptable skin exposure. In her mind, going full nude wasn’t fighting fair, so she wasn’t about to hold back how she really felt.

“That’s amusing,” said Thirteen, “but I’m not sure it passes as a joke …”

Thirteen’s assessment and the lukewarm reaction from the others made All Might think back on his American friend, who’d roared with laughter at this anecdote.

Dave thought it was hilarious, at any rate …

A dejected All Might went back to sipping his nonalcoholic drink, and Cementoss decided to try cheering him up.

“I’ll go next …” he said, before extracting a bit of concrete from the wall with his “Cement” Quirk and sculpting it into a detailed All Might statue.

“Thank you,” said All Might, dabbing his tears while admiring the handiwork.

The table was already covered in an ocean of empty beer cans and at least one bottle of tequila that Midnight had somehow snuck in. Considering the scale of the event that day, there had never been a chance that this would just be a quick wrap party, and by this point, everyone besides the alcohol-free pair and Nap Escape Aizawa was beyond drunk.

“I will go next,” said Ectoplasm. “My trick is Solo Canon Singing.”

He walked behind the sofa and used his Quirk to create about thirty clones of himself, all lined up, and the Ectoplasm on the far end started singing the children’s classic “Frog Song.” A few seconds later, the next Ectoplasm began the song anew. When the first started in on the croaking section, the third began from the start, and so on, and so on, for a seemingly never-ending Frog Song that would die out and be reborn endlessly. The lyrics and the croaking—all in the same voice—wove together to create waves of noise that assaulted the others’ eardrums, rattled their brains, and lured them into a froggy labyrinth where the very concept of “frog” lost all meaning and dissolved into a swirling, abstract mess. Why are these frogs singing? What is a frog, even? When we gaze upon the frog, does the frog gaze back knowingly? The frogs are coming. They’re nearly here. All while singing this merry tune.

“Talk about surround sound!” shouted Present Mic, riling the other drunk members of the party.

“Erm …” said All Might. He and Thirteen were stone-cold sober, and to them, Ectoplasm’s song came off as an uncomfortable, brainwashing noise. The endless Frog Song conjured the image of a froggy demon hopping about in puddles of blood.

“Zzz …”

The brainwashing had worked its magic on an already exhausted Hound Dog, dragging him into a deep sleep and replacing his usual fearsome, snarling snout with a slack-jawed, peaceful one.

“Enough of that,” declared Midnight. “I’m next, so lend me your back, Vlad.”

She stood with her beloved whip clutched in one hand, and All Might suddenly had a bad feeling about what was coming.

“Stand right here, Vlad,” she said, positioning her shirtless colleague and licking her lips in anticipation. She twisted the whip around, as if priming it to do some damage.

“Hang on! Are you sure about this?” said All Might, fearing that this wouldn’t be appropriate for all ages.

“Listen to All Might!” said Thirteen. “We understand that the rules often don’t apply at celebrations like this, but please be reasonable!”

“Shut up, boys … And watch me!” said Midnight with deranged lust in her eyes.

“Urk!” grunted Vlad, as Midnight’s whip connected with his muscular back.

“Oh dear!” said Thirteen, as he and his fellow nondrinker covered their eyes.

“This! Doesn’t! Hurt at all!” said Vlad, who seemed to be grinning and bearing it while continuing to strike body builder poses. Finally, Midnight stopped and wiped the sweat from her brow.

“Behold my party trick: Whip Calligraphy.”

Upon the smiling Vlad’s back were red, raised welts that spelled out “Long Live Youth” in kanji characters.

“In-incredible!” said All Might, amazed at Midnight’s stellar penmanship, or rather, whipmanship. The drunks were just as impressed, and they demanded an immediate encore.

“Oh?” said Midnight smugly. “I live to please, in that case.”

She spun Vlad King around to face her before the whipping began, and this time, she wrote a request by the audience on his pecs. Accompanying this delightful whipping was another choral round by Ectoplasm and his clones—the children’s song “At the Quiet Lakeside.”

The song conjured images of a placid lake and a nearby lush forest, with air fresh enough to make the lungs come alive. Then, a birdcall disrupted the stillness. Cuckoo, cuckoo. Strangely humanlike. Cuckoo, cuckoo. The cuckoo’s call rattled the trees and sent ripples across the lake. Cuckoo, cuckoo. Reverberating through the mind, revealing itself as a harbinger of enlightenment.

The combination of the dreamlike singing and Midnight’s chaotic whipping was more than enough to strip the listeners of their senses.

But as soon as her second round of Whip Calligraphy was finished, the teachers heard a cute voice that nonetheless seemed to reverberate from the pits of hell itself.

“What do you all think you’re doing?”

“P-Principal Nezu!”

The principal—having finished his report to the police—had just entered the building. The black beady eyes that always stared up at them adorably from knee height now seemed to glint like those of a savage beast cloaked in darkness.

“Our festival was a success, so I got off with only a short talking-to from the commissioner-general, but now I return to find … whatever this is?” said the principal.

Stared down at by those eyes, the drunken teachers instantly sobered up. Even Aizawa and Hound Dog were awoken by the sudden bloodlust that permeated the room. All Might and Thirteen—the sober duo—were ahead of the curve and already quaking in fear.

“The festivities end now.”

“Yes, sir!” said the group in unison.

With that, U.A. High School’s School Festival truly drew to a close, and the teachers would spend the rest of their night and then some being lectured at. Principal Nezu’s glare softened at the sight of the red welts decorating Vlad King’s chest, however, and he decided to cut the impending lecture time by an entire hour.

The Whip Calligraphy spelled out “U.A. Rules.”