Chapter Text
School feels a little weird now.
Aizawa is talking at the front of the room. Something about coursework. Something about responsibility. His voice is low and steady, chalk tapping against the board in short, irritated beats every time the class gets too loud.
No one is listening.
Whispers ripple through the room like static.
“Did you see the footage—”
“—that yo-yo was insane—”
“—people are literally frozen—”
Katsuki sits at his desk, leg bouncing hard enough to rattle the metal frame. His jaw is tight as the low hum of the classroom presses in on him. Chalk scraping. Pages turning. Someone laughing too loud in the back. It all feels… off. Like he stepped back into his life and the universe forgot to warn him first.
The last two days feels fuzzy. Blurred around the edges. Like a dream you wake up from already losing pieces of it.
“Eyes forward,” Aizawa mutters, tugging his scarf loose from his shoulders. “Unless you’d all like extra homework.”
That quiets them for about five seconds.
Katsuki taps his foot harder and forces himself not to think about yo-yos, bugs, or glowing jewelry tucked safely out of sight in his pocket. That wasn’t real. That was a fluke. A one-time thing.
He’s back.
This is fine.
He flicks his eyes toward Izuku’s back in front of him. Izuku’s back too, hunched over his desk like always, muttering softly as he scribbles something down. Alive. Breathing.
Everything should be fine.
Across the room, Tokoyami is sat near the window, posture rigid. He’s back too.
And a few desks away, his little crush,
Tsu. Katsuki thinks that’s her name. She’s chatting quietly with Pink Cheeks, her laugh light and easy, hands folded neatly on her desk.
Tokoyami glances at her.
Then looks away just as fast, feathers ruffling.
Katsuki notices. He always notices things like that. Annoying habits. Weak points. Stupid feelings.
A finger snaps inches from his face.
“Are you even listening, man?”
Right. His new self-appointed friends.
Kirishima is leaning over his desk, grin bright and unbothered. Denki’s perched beside him, practically vibrating with energy.
“No,” Katsuki says flatly, rolling his eyes. “What do you want, Shitty Hair?”
Kirishima just laughs. “C’mon, bro. You seriously telling me you don’t think those mystery heroes were manly?”
Right. Of course. That’s the thing.
Everyone’s talking about it. About him swinging around the city in a stupid ladybug suit.
“Not really.”
Denki splutters. “Not really? Dude, they saved, like, a whole of Japan! And now there’s these same shadow things freezing people in place, like statues!”
Katsuki’s stomach twists.
“Yeah!” Denki continues, oblivious. “My neighbor got caught. She can’t move, speak, anything at all, like their shadow just… locked them there.”
Aizawa clears his throat sharply. “If you’re all done recounting last night’s news coverage, we do have a lesson to get through.”
No one stops.
Bright pink hair suddenly fills Katsuki’s vision as Mina swings her phone in his face. “And I got all the insider scoop!”
Yeah. That too. Turns out the girl recording from the battlefield is someone he apparently knows. Of course she is.
“I already started a blog for these mystery heroes,” she says excitedly. “People are calling them, like, new legends already! I need to copyright my footage, I’m about to make so much money!”
Kirishima and Denki crowd around her phone, rewatching shaky clips they’ve clearly seen a dozen times. Katsuki turns away, jaw clenched as his own voice crackles faintly from the speakers, barking directions he doesn’t remember thinking through.
Izuku is unusually quiet. Well, quieter than his usual incessant muttering.
So Katsuki kicks the back of his chair.
“Oi,” Katsuki grumbles. “Why aren’t you losing your mind like the rest of them?”
Izuku whirls around, eyes wide, clutching a notebook stuffed so full of diagrams it barely stays closed.
“I am,” Izuku says quickly, flipping it open. “There has to be a supernatural component because there’s no way that yo-yo could withstand that level of explosive force and still support the mass of a human body—”
Katsuki groans. “So what, you think he’s actually a bug?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Kacchan,” Izuku mutters. “Judging by his proportions, he’d have to be around eighteen at least. Hardly a full-grown adult, but definitely not an insect.”
Katsuki tunes him out, when Deku is like this sarcasm flies over his head.
His gaze drifts back to Tokoyami, who’s edging closer to the edge of Tsu’s desk now, holding a folded letter in shaking hands.
Monoma notices.
“Oh?” Monoma’s voice slices through the air, pleasant and sharp. “What’s that, Tokoyami? A confession?”
Tokoyami stiffens but doesn’t answer.
Monoma’s smile sharpens. “You know, some people prefer their classmates a little less… bleak. Hard to imagine anyone wanting to spend time in the dark all the time.”
Tokoyami clenches his teeth, quietly pulling the letter back.
Katsuki clicks his tongue. “You ever shut up, or is running your mouth your entire personality?”
Monoma turns, delighted. “Aw, Bakugou, defending him? Didn’t realize you had a soft spot for tragic emos.”
“I’ve got a soft spot for punching you,” Katsuki snaps. “Keep talking.”
Monoma’s eyes flick to Tsu. Then back. “Some people shine naturally. Others just…mope. Must be exhausting, watching from the shadows.”
Tokoyami’s hands curl into fists.
“Enough,” he says, voice low.
Katsuki scoffs. “Wow, real brave, picking on a guy who actually minds his own business. What, nobody paying attention to you today?”
“That’s rich,” Monoma says lightly. “Coming from someone who explodes when ignored.”
A few students snicker.
Katsuki grins, feral. “Say that again and see what happens.”
Tokoyami mutters something Katsuki can’t quite hear.
That’s when the lights flicker.
Once. Twice.
The air goes cold.
Tokoyami gasps doubling over slightly as shadows stretch unnaturally across the floor. a shadow surges, no longer contained, its form splitting, warping.
Students scream.
Chairs topple. Desks scrape back violently.
“Evacuate,” Aizawa orders sharply, “Now!”
Katsuki can’t move.
The air buzzes — wrong, heavy, familiar.
And suddenly, horribly, it all comes rushing back.
The bug suit.
The yo-yo.
The akuma.
His responsibility he tried so hard to forget, just for a moment.
“Oh shit,” Katsuki breathes.
One of the shadows lunges, cracking the wall before snatching Monoma and smashing straight through the window, glass exploding outward into the street below.
Tsu stares, frozen, eyes wide.
Izuku moves.
He grabs his notebook and bolts after Tokoyami without hesitation.
Katsuki’s heart slams against his ribs.
This isn’t cool.
This isn’t exciting.
This is what happens when you fail.
People frozen.
People hurt.
And it’s only getting worse.
“I don’t want this,” Katsuki mutters, hands shaking as he presses them inside his pocket, fingers brushing the Miraculous hidden.
Heroes have to care.
He doesn’t want to.
But Izuku is already gone.
Grinding his teeth, Katsuki turns and runs.