3

Shota Aizawa made a point of living his life rationally. In other words, cutting out all that was unnecessary, extraneous, or wasteful. Accordingly, he had no preferences when it came to food or clothing, because time spent fussing over such things was time wasted. His hair was long and unkempt, and his outfits were all identical or, at the very least, indistinguishable from one another. In his eyes, the only point of eating was to nourish oneself, so he mostly subsisted on nutrient jelly. Clothing and living spaces that emphasized form over function and comfort were absurd to him; cooking elaborate meals and caring where the ingredients were grown or processed was nonsensical.

Unfortunately for Aizawa, the world was full of the extraneous.

Hello? This is your son’s homeroom teacher, Aizawa. Do you have a moment? No, Fumikage isn’t in any trouble. I’m actually calling about the Parents’ Day we’re holding next week… Yes. There’s something I’d like to discuss.”

It was after school in the staff room. As inimitable as the great U.A. was in many respects, the staff room made it look like any other high school. The teachers’ desks were grouped by class year and department, and the shelves lining one wall were stuffed with files and books on education. The one thing that set U.A. apart was its faculty, every member of which was a professional hero.

While Aizawa gave Fumikage Tokoyami’s family a summary of the event to come, sitting on his left was the R-Rated Hero: Midnight, who fiddled with her trademark weapon, a whip. She seemed to be wearing nothing but bondage gear that revealed every curve and contour, but underneath that was in fact an ultrathin bodysuit. Midnight’s titillating appearance routinely flustered male students with even the remotest interest in the opposite sex, while lust-crazed imps like Minoru Mineta did nothing to hide the way their teacher made them feel.

Across from Midnight sat the bulky, angular Cementoss. Busy preparing the next day’s lesson plan for his contemporary literature class, he was showing a textbook to and asking advice from his colleague, Thirteen, a teacher dressed in a spacesuit. To the side, Ectoplasm enjoyed a break with a cup of tea, which the eerie, pitch-black teacher sipped through his large white teeth. These heroes in full costume would hardly come off as educators at a glance, but this was an everyday scene in the staff room at U.A. High.

Incidentally, class 1-B’s homeroom teacher, Vlad King, was patrolling the school grounds, Snipe was overseeing the marksmanship club, Power Loader was helping Support Course students test their inventions, and Present Mic was away from his desk, in the bathroom.

“…looking forward to your cooperation next week. Goodbye, then.”

Aizawa ended the call and stared at the paper in front of him—a list of his students’ names and contact info, with check marks next to those whose families he’d already reached out to. He checked off Tokoyami.

Next is Todoroki.

But nobody at the Todoroki household was picking up. Not home, perhaps. Aizawa waited a few rings before hanging up and checking Todoroki’s emergency contact—a cell phone number belonging to the boy’s father, the hero Endeavor. For all Aizawa knew, Endeavor could be on the job, but as 1-A’s homeroom teacher considered his options, a voice spoke to him from behind.

“Something wrong, Aizawa?”

It was All Might in his true form. Instead of the trademark solid frame and explosive muscles, there stood a gaunt man who was nothing but skin and bones, with deep, dark circles around his sunken eye sockets.

“No… I just couldn’t get ahold of anyone at Todoroki’s house.”

“Young Todoroki, huh… Did you try his emergency contact?”

“Not yet. You-know-who might be working.”

All Might glanced at Aizawa’s list.

“Endeavor, right! Why don’t you let me handle this one?”

“Eh?”

“I’ve been wanting to talk to the man ever since the Sports Festival, actually!”

With a grunt, All Might bulked up into his muscle form, the sudden transformation knocking away his chair. He plucked it off the ground as if it were doll furniture, returned to his desk, and started dialing the phone.

“Let’s see… Zero, nine… Ah, wrong button! These giant fingers sure weren’t made for dialing.”

“Why transform at all, then?”

“Because my voice changes too, and I need him to recognize me! Zero, nine… Ack.”

All Might’s sausage fingers had failed him once again, which irked Aizawa enough that he leaped from his seat and dialed the number himself. Nothing grated on his nerves like wasted time.

Blithely unaware of his colleague’s internal rage, All Might grinned and said, “Thank you, Aizawa! You’re nicer than people give you credit for!”

People? Which people…?

The backhanded compliment weighed on Aizawa’s mind for a moment, but he soon returned to his rational center and his list.

Bakugo next…

He picked up the receiver and was about to dial when All Might’s voice boomed.

“Ah, is that you, Endeavor? It’s me, All Might!”

What, they’re pals now?

All Might’s easygoing tone triggered Aizawa’s internal snark.

“Heyyy, how’ve you been? Shame we had so little time to chat at the Sports Festival, am I right? Anyway, we oughta sit down for tea one of these days and… Huh? ‘Leave your message after the tone’…? Drat, voice mail!”

Slow on the uptake, aren’t you?

All Might’s airheaded move distracted Aizawa enough that he misdialed.

“Kinda nervous, having to leave a message… Hrm.”

All Might cleared his throat as if preparing a formal speech.

“Hey, Endeavor! Guess who?”

Why the pointless quiz?

The increasingly irritated Aizawa wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to.

“The answer is…All Might! Anyway, we haven’t talked since the Sports Festival, but I’m hoping we get a chance to catch up soon! About how to raise this next generation, and the like. In fact, I found this great vintage café that brews a mean cup of coffee! You’re a java man, right? You mentioned that to me…about ten years ago, I think? Something about the perfect beans? To be honest, I’m the sort of lowbrow who’d settle for canned coffee! Oh. Ran out of time.”

“All Might. What was the point of that?”

“Eh, the point…? Ah, so sorry! Parents’ Day, right! Let me try again…”

“Never mind. I’ll just send a fax straight to Endeavor’s agency.”

Calling again would be a waste of time, and another attempt at a message? Forget it. Realizing he should’ve handled it this way from the start, Aizawa took the Parents’ Day handout over to the fax machine.

“Sorry, Aizawa… Urk!”

True to form, blood gushed from All Might’s mouth as he reverted to his true form.

“Wow! Two seconds I’m back from the toilet, and already there’s blood!” shouted Present Mic with all his usual enthusiasm. The sunglasses, the trimmed mustache, the hair slicked straight up into the air—all of it utterly extraneous, in Aizawa’s eyes.

“You okay, All Might? Looks like you need some liver in your diet! And, oh—the principal wants to see you in his office.”

“I wonder why… Hopefully not more of his elaborate educational theories.”

All Might slunk off—clearly not crazy about what was sure to be another long lecture—and Midnight cheered him on with a half-hearted “Good luck.” Heroes or not, the teachers were still civil servants at the beck and call of their superiors.

“Oh, faxing something? Wonder when that’s gonna fall out of style!”

Mic’s attention had shifted to Aizawa, whom he now closed in on. The former was like a bad cold the latter just couldn’t shake, going back as far as their days as classmates at U.A. Mic glanced at his colleague’s fax.

“Ahh, contacting the parents, huh. Homeroom teachers have got it rough.”

“I suppose so.”

Despite his answer, Aizawa didn’t actually think it was all that rough. Reaching out to the families like this was a necessary part of the job, after all, but going out of his way to explain that to Mic would’ve crossed the line into irrational territory. None the wiser that Aizawa had intentionally tried to cut the conversation short, Mic went on and suddenly seemed to remember something.

“Hey, hey, how’s that thing coming along?”

“What thing?”

“The big hostage situation thing!”

“Oh. That. Well, we’ve…”

Without waiting for Aizawa to finish, Mic puffed out his chest and shouted.

“I’ve come up with a real hot idea! Somebody stop me, I’m so clever! Hey! Teachers! Wanna hear my frosty-cool plan? Everybody say ‘yeahhh’!”

But instead of the resounding “yeahhh” Mic sought from the Hero Course faculty, all he got was a “Sure, sure, what now?” from a visibly annoyed Midnight.

“I know this crowd can do better than that!”

“Don’t count on it.”

Midnight raised her hand with as little enthusiasm as possible.

“How about the nosebleed seats?”

“Oh. Does he mean us?” asked Cementoss, now paying attention.

“I would prefer silence.”

“Aw, let’s hear him out, at least.”

Thirteen tried convincing Ectoplasm to put down his tea and play along, while Mic continued.

“First! Holding a big group hostage means you gotta make ’em stay put, right? And my Voice is the perfect tool for the job!”

“This is what you were getting at…?”

But Aizawa’s hushed exasperation was drowned out by Mic’s bloviating. Present Mic’s Quirk, “Voice,” gave his voice a range from soprano to bass and made it loud enough to be wielded as a weapon.

“I’d gather those hostages behind closed doors and give ’em a front-row seat to my explosive live show! It’d break their hearts and their eardrums, knocking ’em out cold! Any hardheaded heroes who came along to save the day would also get brought to their knees by my sweet voice! Go, go, heaven! A foolproof plan, wouldn’tcha say? Well?”

“No. Listen here…” Aizawa started to say to the smug Mic, but this time he was cut off by Midnight’s languid dissent.

“Eh? I say you’re just too loud. It’s enough to make a gal lose interest in a hurry.”

“Huhh? What’s wrong with being loud?”

“Personally, I prefer it when someone holds back in silence until it all comes leaking out in a nice moan.”

“Midnight, do try to contain yourself,” said Thirteen, who was likely blushing under his costume’s helmet.

“Such a prude, Thirteen. All I mean is that it ought to be done smarter, not louder.”

“You have a point, I suppose,” said Cementoss, but Mic wasn’t having it.

“What’s wrong with my plan? This is one listener who’s dying to know!”

“Knocking them out cold is all well and good, until they regain consciousness.”

“In that case, I’d just keep the noise coming with an all-night live show!”

“That’s not all, though. Bursting their eardrums, really? No. With my Quirk, I could keep the hostages in place and even send their would-be rescuers to dreamland.”

Midnight’s Quirk was “Somnambulist,” and it allowed her to release a soporific scent into the air—an effect said to work better on men than on women.

“Nice and peaceful, and nobody needs to get hurt.”

But Ectoplasm raised his head and took issue with Midnight’s approach.

“Peaceful…? Seems unnecessary, given what we’re discussing. Because taking hostages still counts as a crime, and whoever heard of a peaceful crime?”

“But we wouldn’t want to actually hurt anyone!”

“Naive, Thirteen. However, my clones are the perfect solution in this case, as I could have them stand guard. One clone for each hostage.”

Ectoplasm’s Quirk was “Clones.” He could spew an ectoplasm-like substance from his mouth, and, at will, have it transform into copies of himself. Typically his limit was thirty clones at once, but that number would shoot up to thirty-six after two or three songs at karaoke, once his jaw could open wider.

“Actually, I don’t think…”

But Aizawa went unheard.

“Hmph. What if one of the hostages had a strong Quirk and just blasted past your clones? My putting them all to sleep still seems like the strongest option.”

At this, Cementoss’s beady eyes glinted.

“Strongest? I’m afraid I can’t agree there.”

“And why not, Cementoss?”

“In our world, you can’t toss that word around unless you’re talking about All Might.”

“C’mon…”

“He could round up the hostages and bind them in an instant. Not to mention, he’d blow away any and all heroes trying to save them.”

“Yikes, you’re right! The strongest hero would make for the strongest villain!”

As the teachers yapped and imagined All Might’s turn to the dark side, Aizawa still couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

Annoying…

He decided to forget about his gregarious colleagues for a second and get back to the task at hand. Although Aizawa was no stranger to reining in unruly students when they dared interrupt his lessons, he knew that unruly coworkers were best ignored.

“Hello? This is Katsuki’s homeroom teacher, Aizawa. Do you have a moment?”

The others left Aizawa to his calls, and the debate raged on.

“Sure, All Might is the strongest. I’ll give you that. But how would you go about it, Cementoss? You’d surround the hostages with cement, right?”

Cementoss’s Quirk was “Cement,” and he could manipulate cement with a mere touch as if it were modeling clay. He paused for a moment before answering.

“Surround them? No. I’d cover the whole group with a cement dome, and any heroes would get the same treatment. Nowhere to run for hostages and heroes alike.”

Cementoss gave a satisfied nod, but his suggestion didn’t sit well with Thirteen.

“Um, wouldn’t everyone end up suffocating, though…?”

“So be it. The important thing is that the hostages can’t escape.”

“I concur,” said Ectoplasm, chiming in.

“Ehh? Surely that’s going too far…” shot back the flustered Thirteen just as Present Mic’s hands came down on his shoulders from above.

“Lighten up, Wet Blanket Boy!”

“‘Boy’…? I-I’m twenty-eight years old, I’ll have you know.”

“Wet Blanket Man, then! And we still haven’t heard from you.”

“Me? Right… I suppose I would use my Black Hole…?”

The black holes produced by Thirteen’s Quirk could suck in matter and obliterate it down to the atomic level.

“Now who’s ‘going too far’?”

“Atomizing the hostages would defeat the purpose of having hostages in the first place,” said Ectoplasm.

“Wow! Thirteen seems so harmless, but he’s got the blackest heart of all! Hoo boy!” Mic chimed in.

“Mmm, I have to admit, I’m a fan of that devilish discrepancy,” said Midnight.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!”

About to finish his call, Aizawa was still half listening.

“…we’ll see you next week. Goodbye.”

Next up is Hagakure…

Before he could pick up the receiver and dial the next number, the phone rang.

“Hello? You’ve reached U.A. High School.”

“Hi, I’m calling about Shoto Todoroki, in class 1-A. Could you get me Aizawa, his homeroom teacher?”

Aizawa ran through Todoroki’s family members in his mind, trying to figure out who the young-sounding, feminine voice belonged to.

Todoroki… In his family, he’s got…

“Yes, this is Aizawa. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with…?”

“Ah, sorry! I’m Shoto’s older sister, Fuyumi Todoroki. And thanks for all you do for him.”

“Perfect. I was trying to reach your household, actually.”

“Really? I’m just on my way home now. Staff meeting ran a little late…”

Aizawa’s eyes opened a little wider at the all-too-familiar phrase.

“Staff meeting? Oh, you teach elementary, right?”

“Ah, yeah. Something a little funny about this, talking teacher to teacher.”

Unlike Todoroki, his older sister had no trouble keeping a conversation going.

Guess she wouldn’t make a very good schoolteacher if she were as surly as him.

“Um, so…is everything okay with Shoto…?”

A note of concern entered her voice as she realized that Aizawa must have wanted to get in touch for a reason.

“Everything’s just fine. I’m making calls about Parents’ Day.”

“Oh, of course.”

Aizawa was quick to get to the point, and the relief in her voice was palpable. He recalled his early impressions of Todoroki at the start of the school year. The boy’s talents had been obvious, but he hadn’t exactly played well with others. In elementary school, his behavior had probably triggered a number of troubling calls to the Todoroki home.

“May I ask who will be attending Parents’ Day next week?”

“Ah, that would be me. That’s actually what I’m calling about…”

“How can I help?”

“Would it be all right if I brought a camcorder to the event? I’d be sure to keep out of the way, of course.”

A camcorder? For home videos, to commemorate the occasion?

Aizawa tilted his head, thinking about the unusual request.

“I’m sorry, but for security reasons, we don’t allow recording devices on campus.”

“Right. I understand…”

He could practically hear the disappointment in her voice, but her chipper tone returned after he briefly explained the reasoning behind the rule.

“We’ll see you next week, then. Goodbye.”

“Sounds good. Thanks again.”

As Aizawa ended the call and checked another name off the list, a thought occurred to him.

What if it wasn’t just to mark the occasion, but instead to…

Present Mic’s bombastic voice came crashing into Aizawa’s ears.

“Well, I’d just jack into the broadcast station and send my sound waves soaring, on air! With everyone knocked out, I’d nab the jewels and the damsel’s heart! Like a regular Lupin III!”

“Jewel thievery’s not as easy as cartoons make it out to be. Those jewelry stores have tight security, you know?”

“My voice breaks ladies’ hearts and reinforced glass into a million pieces!”

“Who wants to know about the bad things I’d do? Just kneel down and lick my boots if you want to hear.”

“I’ll pass on that.”

Midnight’s bewitching smile had no effect on Cementoss, whose rejection was as blunt as his square body.

“You too, Cementoss? Such a stick-in-the-mud. Fine. I’ll tell you all, no charge. I’d put a person to sleep and figure out their weaknesses—for blackmail.”

“How deceitful,” said Ectoplasm.

“A bit mundane, but realistic enough, in a bad way,” said Thirteen, shaking his head dismissively.

“But what if they had no secrets to exploit?”

“In that case…I’d frame them somehow. Work a little magic while they slept, if you know what I mean,” answered Midnight, shooting Cementoss a buttery-smooth wink.

“How underhanded,” said Ectoplasm.

“So believable it’s scary,” said Thirteen.

“Bad and sexy…? That makes you the Fujiko to my Lupin!”

While Aizawa had been on the phone, it seemed that the teachers’ conversation had turned to boasts about what sort of wicked things they might do with their Quirks.

These people, I swear…

Tossing out a retort would only drag him down to their level, though. Eager to be done with his list, Aizawa soothed his dry eyes with some eye drops, pulled himself together, and picked up the receiver once more.

“I wonder why talking about doing bad gets me so hot and bothered? I’m aching inside, just thinking about it.”

“Such is human nature.”

“But we’re heroes. It’s just not right.”

“C’mon, Thirteen! It’s just hypothetical! Pure, 100 percent fantasy!” said Mic, slapping Thirteen on the shoulder playfully. Meanwhile, Cementoss seemed interested in exploring Midnight’s question.

“Come to think of it, we all wanted to become heroes from a young age, no? Which meant internalizing the idea that we mustn’t ever do wrong. Suppressing that side of ourselves.”

“Self-denial makes that eventual gratification all the spicier, but one mustn’t let it build up too much. Everyone needs a good release now and then. It’d be simple enough, boys—just say the word. Toss away the pride that’s holding you back, and I’d be happy to make you my house pets.”

“I’ll pass on that too,” said Cementoss with a flat chuckle.

“This sort of thought experiment isn’t entirely without merit, though. It could even help us understand the mind of a villain,” mused Ectoplasm.

“That’s true enough,” said Thirteen.

“Right, exactly!” blurted out Mic. “Speaking of a good ‘release,’ everyone’s used their Quirk to play a prank or two when they were kids, yeah? This is just like that!”

Thirteen shook his head and said, “Pranks? Not me.”

Seriously?

In the middle of a phone call once again, Aizawa overheard his colleagues’ conversation and wondered to himself about Thirteen. Mic couldn’t believe it either, and he wasn’t shy about it.

“Seriously?! Never? Not once in your life? Glory be, we’re in the presence of Saint Thirteen!”

We’re on the same page for once? Really?

“Oh. Pardon me. Right, so on the day of…” continued Aizawa with a scowl.

“I don’t suppose you’d tell us what sort of pranks you committed, Present Mic?”

Mic thought about Thirteen’s question and answered proudly.

“When my friend was snoozing at lunchtime, sometimes I’d start spitting rhymes right into his ear!”

“Such a rude awakening would be enough to stop my heart, I daresay.”

“Other times, I’d interrupt his naps with drawn-out, immersive ghost stories!”

“Your poor friend.”

Unable to let it slide, Aizawa placed his hand over the receiver and muttered, “That friend was me, by the way.”

“Ohh, true enough, old buddy, old pal! Sorry, sorry! But what say we flush that ancient history down the toilet?”

“An appropriate solution for all your bullcrap.”

Wishing he could flush the memories, too, Aizawa tuned out his old classmate’s blathering and sympathetic look before returning to the phone call.

“Mrs. Midoriya? Sorry about that… Now, as I was saying…”

Meanwhile, Present Mic had already flushed away whatever guilt he might’ve been feeling.

“Let’s hear about your pranks, Midnight! Guessing you were always R-rated, even as a kid?”

“No dirty stories, please,” begged Ectoplasm.

“Not at all—I was a charming little girl. But…there was that time my first crush and I played doctor.”

“Ooh. Any stethoscopes involved? Listening to each other all over?”

An excited Present Mic had taken the bait, but Midnight flashed a beguiling smile and said, “I’ll leave that to your imaginations. Let’s just say it escalated until we went from playing doctor to playing surgeon…”

“Eh. What kind of surgery…?”

The expressions of Midnight’s male colleagues grew rigid.

“Heh heh. Like I said, imagination. In any case, that boy went on to bat for the other team, and I might’ve played a role…”

“W-what’d you do to the guy?” cried Mic, hands guarding his own nether regions. Another chuckle escaped Midnight’s lips as she reminisced.

“It all must’ve been a little too stimulating for him…”

“Doesn’t sound like that should be a fond memory for you! Back me up, Thirteen?”

“Well, to start with, that bit of mischief had nothing to do with her Quirk.”

“I suppose it didn’t. Whatever. Let’s hear some more stories—how about you, Ectoplasm?” said Midnight, egging on her colleague.

“Though I have never used my Quirk in service of a prank, there was one time when I acted in error…”

Ectoplasm’s solemn tone made his pro hero colleagues all the more eager to hear.

“Confessing to a crime, huh? This oughta be great! Go on and paint for us a real clear picture of what went down!”

“But you’re so very stoic, Ectoplasm. I can hardly imagine you committing a wrongdoing.”

“Alas, a sin is a sin… I exercise my right to remain silent.”

“Teasing us like that just makes it worse, y’know.”

“It’s true! Now we want to hear!”

True to his word, Ectoplasm remained silent.

“Hey, hey, you can’t do that to us! Better not leave your audience hanging!”

“I only wish the memories could be purged.”

Given his busybody coworkers, Ectoplasm was suddenly regretting piping up at all when Cementoss decided to speak. “Confession is good for the soul. And as your colleagues, we’d be happy to help lighten the burden you’ve been carrying.”

Genuine compassion glinted in Cementoss’s tiny eyes, touching Ectoplasm’s heart.

“Well, this was back when I was in grade school…”

Present Mic and the others sat with bated breath, eager to hear the story.

Didn’t take much to make him sing.

“Ah, hello. Is this the Mineta household? I’m Minoru’s homeroom teacher, Aizawa, and… Yes. Of course. We appreciate all you do, too. I’m actually calling about Parents’ Day…”

The voice inside Aizawa’s head spouted its usual, rational snark as he continued down his call list, which was nearly finished. Not that the heavyhearted Ectoplasm was any the wiser.

“One morning, I found myself unable to extricate myself from the comfort of my bedchamber, and time itself seemed to elapse at the speed of light…”

“Huh? I don’t get it,” said Present Mic with a tilt of his head.

“He overslept,” explained Cementoss.

“Though gripped by despair, I dashed to the schoolhouse, undeterred… Alas, the merciless morning bell rang out before I could enter, so I sent one of my clones into the classroom instead…”

“Meaning, you used a clone to avoid being marked late to school?”

“Indeed. My perfect attendance award was at stake, though I know now that no such excuse can make up for my grave sin…”

The surrounding heroes blinked at each other and let loose with disappointed sighs.

“That’s all? You used your wits to solve the problem and still walked away with perfect attendance?”

“We were expecting a lot more from your ‘sin.’ Like a Shakespearean tragedy, full of love and deceit.”

“The fault is with you people for expecting more. I only spoke my truth,” shot back Ectoplasm. He went on to sip his tea, visibly grumpy with the others’ reactions. Suddenly, Thirteen was reminded of a story of his own.

“I have an embarrassing tale as well. Once, I wet the bed and destroyed the evidence by sucking the very futon into one of my black holes…”

“Now that’s using your noggin. Wish I’d had that option, way back!”

“But I got in trouble for it all the same,” confessed Thirteen, scratching his helmet sheepishly.

“Bed-wetting? That’s kinda cute, coming from you.”

“How about you then, Cementoss? Did you ever get up to any mischief?”

“Me? Right… I once put up a wall of cement to avoid being caught in hide-and-seek. That’s the worst I’m willing to admit.”

The heroes pounced on Cementoss’s flat smile.

“So there are things you won’t cop to…?”

“Better to let sleeping dogs lie! Like my gramps always said, the scariest people are the ones you’d never expect!”

“This, after I was forced to confess? How cowardly.”

“I’m dying to hear this, too. Especially now that we know it’s such a secret.”

Thirteen and Mic were content to leave Cementoss’s dark past buried, while Ectoplasm and Midnight wanted it all dragged out into the light.

“Please, I was only joking,” said Cementoss with a laugh.

“What? A joke? Don’t scare us like that.”

“Jokes are meant to be funny.”

“Your sense of humor ain’t doing my blood pressure any favors, Cementoss!”

“I’m sorry, really. And my best regards to your wise grandfather, Mic.”

“Yeah, well, we won’t forget this.”

“Flush it all down the toilet, I say!”

He’ll need to call a plumber, at this rate.

“…and we’re looking forward to seeing you next week.”

Aizawa hung up the phone and checked off “Yaoyorozu”—the final name on his list. He sighed, glad to be done with the mundane yet exhausting task. Meanwhile, his coworkers continued yapping, oblivious to his minor accomplishment, and he eyed them in amazement.

How long can five people talk about nothing whatsoever…?

“With all our Quirks combined, we’d make for one nasty villain team! The world’d be no match for us!” shouted Present Mic, his boast filling the room.

“Well, aren’t you all in high spirits?”

“Sir!”

Principal Nezu had emerged from his office with All Might in tow. He was plainly a mouse, though in certain lighting he could resemble a dog, or even a small bear. Whatever he was, the adorable animal was dressed in a sharp suit vest and oversized shoes, and he rose only to All Might’s knee.

“Did I hear something about you all taking on the world?”

The cute facade was, in the end, just a facade, for Nezu’s scarred right eye held a certain intensity and hinted at a dark past. At the principal’s implicit reproach, the teachers scrambled to explain themselves.

“No, it’s not what you think! We were just discussing how to handle you-know-what!”

“Exactly. Just brainstorming which of our Quirks could best handle a group of hostages, and so on.”

“Ah, yes. I do know what,” said Nezu with a nod.

“How would you go about it, sir?”

Nezu scratched his chin, ruminating on Midnight’s question.

“First, I would prepare a giant maze.”

“A maze, sir? Why go that route…?”

“Why? Hostages are taken for a reason, of course. The hostage taker may do it to evade capture, to acquire some reward, or simply to garner attention… If I were a villain, however, my hostages would be in service of an experiment.”

“An experiment?”

“Indeed! I would place them at the maze’s center, forcing their would-be rescuers to navigate the labyrinth under a time limit. Mind you, there would be electric fences, pitfalls, shifting walls…all to provide a proper challenge. Perhaps even doors that would require the heroes to solve complex puzzles to open…”

Principal Nezu’s Quirk was “High Specs,” making him an exceedingly rare example of an intelligent animal with a superpower. Truly a unique individual.

“And any paths trodden would be sealed off, just as life offers no second chances… Heh heh… Ha ha ha ha! I wonder how many clever little mice would reach the goal in time…?”

Nezu’s cackle offered an unsettling glimpse at the grudge he bore for the humans who’d once toyed with his life, which put a damper on the teachers’ earlier excitement.

“Whoa, that’s more than just blackhearted. We’re talking a double shot of espresso, hold the cream!”

“Sir, I think you’re scaring everyone,” said All Might, crouching low to face his boss.

Nezu seemed to come to his senses.

“Oh my, I lost myself for a moment, there. In any case, heroes must always overcome the high walls they face and engender that Plus Ultra spirit! In that sense, my maze would provide the ideal trial! Oh. Leaving already, Aizawa?”

The unkempt teacher had put his desk in order and now stood.

“Yes. I’m finished for today.”

“Like hell you are. You still gotta tell us how you’d wrangle a bunch of hostages. Admit it—my Quirk would be super handy!”

“As I said, I could just put them to sleep. My Quirk is best suited to the task.”

“No, mine.”

“Remember, everyone–safety should be our number one concern.”

“I think we ought to team up to get the job done, no?”

“You said it!”

As the others agreed with Cementoss, a puzzled All Might cocked his head.

“Hmm? Isn’t everything already set for you-know-what, Aizawa?”

“Yes. It is.”

All Might aside, the other heroes gasped at Aizawa’s deadpan declaration.

“For real? Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“You started running your mouths before I had a chance to. Anyhow, I’m leaving,” grumbled Aizawa, glancing at the windows and realizing how dark it had gotten.

“After all our brainstorming?” came the first of a flurry of complaints, but he was already moving towards the door.

Reminds me of the kids just before class begins.

There was nothing rational about getting worked up over nonsense, like a bunch of adolescents. Or about wasting valuable time and energy on heated conversations over nothing. Though Aizawa would lay down the law of rationality to keep classes running smoothly, he wasn’t so high-handed as to impose his mantra on the students during their free time. After all, forcing one’s beliefs on others like that would be in itself irrational.

What makes it so fun for them, exactly?

The kids would work themselves into a frenzy, chatting about whatever. Or lose heart over the smallest things. Or explode over differing opinions. No, nothing rational about youth—that point in life when one would dash headlong toward truth only to ignore it when it presented itself. Finding a satisfying answer to life’s problems would inevitably involve quite a bit of wasted time and effort, so reducing that waste was key if one ever wanted to arrive at a conclusion.

His students’ faces floated across Aizawa’s mind. So young and foolish. So full of potential but also wasted effort.

People worth teaching…

Hidden underneath the bandage-like wrapping that served as his weapon, Aizawa’s mouth curled into a smile so faint the man himself didn’t realize. The world was full of the extraneous, but at the very least, Aizawa would do his part to stay rational.