Chapter Text
It was supposed to be normal day of torture for his kids, make them write a boring essay he wouldn’t grade, take a long-ass nap, and whip their sorry hero-course butts into shape with rigorous afternoon training. He knew that something was supposed to happen in the next day or two, but he had fallen blissfully asleep in the middle of the staff briefing, and ignored the packet on his desk the next day. He was prepared for an awful day of hero hopefuls getting their hopes shot down by his infamous essay questions. He was not prepared for this, whatever this was. Not this new transfer student -from an american hero school no less- invading his nap space and stealing his favorite mug. Aizawa had enough problem children as it was, and as second years those few started to gain more influence in the school. He sincerely hoped that this half-shaved, blue-dyed, pierced head would not be joining his already chaotic class. Alas, it seemed, the gods had no mercy.
“Hello Eraser-Aizawa!” All Might boomed, from his perch on the other couch. The blue head didn’t even turn, seemingly took no notice of the newly appeared pro hero teachers in the Teacher's Lounge, where students should not be.
“Toshinori-san, who is that,” Aizawa entered the room because he was not in any way intimidated by the former symbol of peace, and decidedly not by this new...student? Upon closer inspection, a sleeping kid, very clearly a foreigner, with his favorite sleeping sack tucked over an already untidy uniform.
“Name’s Kureiburu.. m’moya Kreibu.. M’merican tran’fer studen..” the new kid slurred, clearly still half asleep. Sitting up, swiping the big blue coffee mug, and chugging the brown liquid did absolutely nothing to wake them up more. Kid’s almost perpetually asleep, he thought, just like Hi-Shinsou. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he swiped it away, I do not need more students, this one would put me at twenty-two children to manage and a whole slew of new problems thanks to their obvious American-ness. Again, the gods and Nedzu had no mercy. All Might stood, dusting off his suit because old habits die hard, and nodded sagely at the groggy, disheveled teen sat across from him. Bleary eyelids open to reveal blue eyes, because of course this American transfer student has blue eyes, but the eyes aren’t unfocused. Aizawa has the uneasy impression of looking into his own reflection, for a few seconds, before the kid blinks, and the feeling coils comfortably into the back of his mind. Setting the cup down, using some poor sap’s very full folder as a coaster, the new student starts untangling themselves from the worn yellow sack. Folding it carefully, and then picking up the coaster-folder, the student hands him the items, before settling back against the couch, and pulling a bag out of another bag. The big bag has more pins than he has wrinkles in his eyebags. A soft click, and Aizawa is left alone with this new student, Kureiburu.
“So you’re Kureiburu Ameimoya,” he starts, hoping against hope that the folder says nothing about being in his class, or dangerous quirks, or delinquent behavior. Hope, it seems, has failed him. The first thing he sees, when he opens the folder, is the amount of news clippings pinned onto a high school transcript, under that, a provisional license form dated...five years ago? This is a UA type kid, for sure, if the article titles have anything to say.
“Judging by your body language, you’ve already gotten to the bit that talks about my..escapades,” Kureiburu shrugs, their own posture displaying nonchalance.
“Putting it simply, I’m your new problem child.” Another shrug, and then they stand up to leave, the uniform jacket tied around their waist like a sweatshirt. A turn, almost unnoticed if not for his eyes that caught the movement on the edge of his vision, because his new problem child’s folder was thick, and had forms in at least one language he didn’t speak.
“Sensei, i’ll be honest with you, mostly ‘cause you smell trustworthy,” what did that even mean? “I don’t always get along with teachers or classmates, I can be really crass, and frankly, I’m a distraction.” Definitely a problem child, but an honest one, and clearly judging by the thick folder in his hands, a capable one. He waited, not facing Kureiburu, knowing they needed to finish the thought before he stepped in and immediately offered adoption papers.
“But i also try, really really hard to be a good person, and i am trying to be a better student, so i hope you’ll forgive any minor slip-ups or mistakes that i unknowingly make.” Okay adoption papers could wait, how did this very american, very not-japanese student, speak japanese like a native? Questions aside, lunch break was almost over, and he had class (now one problem child larger) to torture.
“Kid, Kureiburu, look,” sighing, turning to face the new blue child, who stiffened, almost imperceptibly, instinct maybe; and resigned himself to his fate. “You can’t be worse than all of them. Come on, meet the rest of the class, you won’t be able to get along with them if you never meet.” a small smile, a genuine one, and he was gifted with a large, wolfish grin (were those canines normal?).
“Got that right, teach,” and with that they swished out the door and into the now bustling hallway. Aizawa collected the folder, the mug -quickly rinsed and refilled- and a jelly packet to munch on. Who needed a real lunch anyways, when you could let your body entropy at a slightly higher rate than most.
The blue kid, Kureiburu, was stood leaning, their giant black bag against the wall, a phone in their hand. The keyboard was neither english nor japanese kana. He didn’t want to know at this point, hoping the folder would offer some explanation this evening, and hopefully better reading material than the essays due this period. The blue hair and the new face was already attracting attention. He cleared his throat, and started walking in the direction of his unsuspecting class. Something told him that Kureiburu would follow, and he was almost doubting himself at the lack of an unfamiliar presence, when they popped up on his left.
“Ready to knock ‘em dead? They have an essay due so you shouldn’t worry too much about questions just yet.” he looked down, the keyboard in english now, but the words weren’t. It was shaping up to be a slightly less awful than normal day.
Kaminari Denki prided himself on weird trivia and worse ideas. He knew he was a good friend, and shinsou said that he was a good boyfriend, not that either of them had any experience to speak of. He knew his classmates, not scarily intimate the way Midoriya did, but there wasn’t one person in the whole room who he couldn’t say he wasn’t friends with. He also always came back from lunch early, to leave the impression that he cared about his classes and that he was paying his utmost attention to the teachers. He knew it did nothing, but habits were hard to break. So he walked into class, sat down, and started the essay that was due in an hour. He was actually getting in the zone, banging out sentences and making analyses that might actually earn him a grade, when a nasally lisp broke his fragile concentration.
“Who’s the hottie talking to sensei? Is she new?” mineta had a thing for saying the wrong things at the worst times, and some days it made Kaminari want to shock him unconscious. But All Might’s voice boomed in his head, reminding him that heroes should always strive to think the best of people. Kaminari sighed dramatically, put away his staticky braincell, and turned to face the diaper grape. “I’m serious bro, do you know her? Is she a new transfer? Like that sissy Shinsou?” Kaminari had to physically restrain himself from punting Mineta into orbit. Mineta was the whole reason that the only people who knew about him and Shinsou were him and Shinsou. He knew that Mineta harassed the girls constantly, but he didn’t think he could handle one of his first high school friends’ look of horror when he found out that Kaminari wasn’t as straight as he thought.
“Dunno, new kid looks like they could punt you into orbit without batting an eye. They’ve got thighs to rival Midoriya’s. Damn, I want the new kid to sit on me.” He sighed, letting the electricity flicker between his fingers as more students filed in, either not taking notice of the tall, blue-hair, or in some cases, not caring. Midoriya probably would have, but he was so wrapped up in an argument about a red riot fight with Kirishima, that the new kid flew completely under his radar. Settling uncomfortably in his seat, Kaminari couldn’t see the guy’s expression, but sat nearby he could see that Midoriya was uncomfortable. Even Bakugou’s legs paused on their way up to rest on top of his desk. The new kid was typing furiously into a phone that had a soot-sprite case? What were they doing that was so important that they couldn’t face a room of hero hopefuls and state their purpose for intruding so rudely on the much needed hour-extension of the essay deadline, graciously granted after even Yaomomo complained about the time limit on the obscure essay topic on american agriculture heroes? Still typing, though less angrily, they turned to face the class. There was almost a collective gasp, and yet the blue kid didn’t take any notice. They were pierced, more so than half the class put together, with rings of silver and snakes in their ears, yet more silver in between scrunched and impossibly dark eyebrows, and at least one stud through a tongue stuck out in obvious concentration, not to mention the hoops through the lower lips (giving off an almost oni-like vibe). Thanks to mina’s piercing salon their first year, most of them had at least one or two holes. This new kid had so many more. New kid was also decidedly as tall as Momo, as well built and proportioned as Bakugou (definitely dressed as disheveled as him), and most notably, a foreigner. Midoriya wasn’t even muttering analyses, which was an immediate red flag, but even Hakagure was uncharacteristically silent. Aizawa made the first move.
“Hey, Kureiburu, introduce yourself,” because i need a nap was more implied with the withering glare in his eyes, that kaminari and his classmates had come to fear. New kid didn’t even flinch, instead grunting, then turning to the blackboard to write out oddly clean katakana, slowly letting it take the shape of their name. Then beneath it, in perfect english, ‘Krehbiel.’
Kaminari was so entranced with the obviously skilled new student that he almost didn’t catch Midoriya mutter “it couldn’t be, not here..” as Bakugou sucked in breath through fiercely clenched teeth. Watching their every move, Kureiburu turned to new classmates, sucked in a breath, held it, let it out. Hey that looks like what toshi does when he’s anxious, Kaminari thought idly, before a voice dragged his thoughts to the new student at the front of the class.
“Sup. I’m Kureiburu Ameimoya, I’m an american transfer student, and I’ve already met All Might.” Piercing (oh the irony) blue eyes trailed over the class, casually, like a wolf looks at potential prey, and stopped, widened, when they reached the farthest edge of the room, where two sets of equally wide eyes looked right back. A big, wolfish grin, what is with this kid and acting like a wolf, and they pounced across the room and into Bakugou’s, waiting, arms?? A peal of laughter, rarely heard, because Bakugou almost never laughed. And then a mop of unruly curls was launching itself at the strange sight, wrapping its arms around the new student’s back as three seemingly very at odds people looked like they were having the time of their lives. It was unfortunate, but mineta was the first on scene, demanding answers.
“How is this fair! Bakugou is such a jerk! And he gets the hot new girl without so much as a glance at the rest of us suitable bachelors! How do you know her?” This last question, although cracking on the first syllable, was pointed almost confidently at Bakugou’s laughing face, nuzzled securely into the nest.. of blue.. curls? No one hugged bakugou, except for maybe Kirishima, Kaminari himself, okay so the whole bakusquad hugged him from time to time, and he never opposed movie night cuddles, but a full contact hug? With a new american transfer student? Unheard of. Kaminari was quick to join the huddle around three people who should not be hugging each other in the middle of class, throwing his own question into the fray,
“Yeah Kacchan, how do you know Kureiburu? Are you dating?” At that last question, Bakugou let out a derisive snort, Midoriya somehow laughed harder, full on crying now, and Kureiburu actually looked up, scandalised, at Kaminari.
“Uh, how do you three know each other, kero?” Asui was perched gently on an abandoned desk, chewing her lip in confusion. “Kureiburu-chan, d’you know that Bakugou-chan is not very friendly?” The chewing was worry, Kaminari decided, and turned to his confused, and more obviously amused boyfriend. He smiled, the bags under his eyes crinkling gently, as he sneakily pulled out a phone to snap photos. Bakugou wouldn’t mind, right? Wrong. If Kaminari knew anything about Bakugou it’s that he was extremely observant. He probably had his suspicions about Kaminari’s ‘close’ friendship with Shinsou, but in a surprisingly kind turn of events, he had so far said nothing. He saw the phone, snarled a growling “No pictures, Mindfucker,” which alerted Kureiburu, who hid, HID, in bakugous, uniform coat. Midoriya barked another laugh, finally done crying, and turned to Shinsou almost sadly. “Sorry, but Kacchan said no photos, Shin,” and then as Kaminari processed the fact that Midoriya and Bakugou were agreeing, he eyed a few more phones.
“C’mon you guys, you heard Midobro, no photos yet. We gotta wait until they’re in an even softer position, and then we can nab the perfect photos!” Kaminari laughed as he said it, and Shinsou smiled.
“Miyo are you seriously still this bad about photos? Jeez we aren’t babies they won’t be embarrassing as shit” “Kacchan be nice, that one time was really bad, Auntie Rana still won’t let Miyo live that down.” Kureiburu just huddled further into the relative safety of Bakugou’s arms, as he and Midoriya laughed themselves silent. Jirou just stared, a phone outstretched, “I have never seen Bakugou laugh this much, Kureiburu you’re a blessing,” At that Kureiburu looked up, blushing, and goddamn if mineta wasn’t wrong about their looks. Mineta wailed, almost hysterical at the thought that Kureiburu wouldn’t notice him at all. Disentangled themselves from porcupine Bakugou, and looked warily, like a caged animal, at the gathered students. They spoke again, tone less formal, though still cautiously flat. “I’ve already seen,” a cough from somewhere in the back, answered with a pointed glare, almost like Todoroki’s ice, wow Kureiburu was cold. “I’ve already seen Zuku, and Kiki, but who are the rest of y’all? I remember watching the sports festival but I’m worse with names than Kiki. just, please give me your name and what you want me to call you.” A sigh, a careful hand dropped over the face, almost as scarred as Midoriya and as many rings as the ears. Then that big, toothy, canine-bearing grin. “Teach said y’all have an essay due, and I didn’t mean to interrupt class, but before I distract Zuku again with catching up, names would be super helpful, thanks. We can do questions back in the dorms, at the end of the day.” The grin turned, blinding in its genuinity, and landed on Shoji, who only raised a barely visible eyebrow at being singled out.
“You, octopus boy, Zuku wouldn’t shut up about your quirk, but helpfully forgot your name.” Midoriya squawked in protest, and Bakugou cackled, sharing a knowing look with Uraraka, who just smiled brightly back. Shoji nodded, cleared his throat, and spoke from the mouth in his face.
“I’m Shoji Mezo, but if you feel uncomfortable using my family name,” So he wasn’t the only one that remembered that odd tidbit about american students on a first-name basis, no matter their grade. Kaminari was desperately trying to think of a cool nickname to supply shoji with, but the man himself beat him to the punch. “Call me tentacole, my hero name.” Kureiburu closed their lips over weirdly sharp teeth, thinking. “If we’re classmates, and based on my prior knowledge of you, likely equals, can I just call you Shoji with no suffix?” He nodded, seemingly satisfied with his knowledge of american culture. They turned their gaze to Yao-momo, giving her an appreciative once-over, Maybe Kureiburu is in the same kinda boat i am, the thought flashed through his mind, and stuck to the front of his brain like Sero’s tape. He almost missed Yao-momo’s insistence on, well, Yao-momo. A nod, a hum, and the gaze landed just to Momo’s right, where Jirou blanched, and tried to hide her face from the intense scrutiny. Kureiburu just smiled, and without further preamble “Kiki says you have a really good singing voice, even sent me the video from the school festival. To be honest it’s kinda surreal to meet another person who cares so much about music. And don’t worry, I actually got your name from him. It’s Jirou-san, right?” Jirou blushed, never one for being the center of attention, and attempted to hide herself in Momo’s gigantic ponytail. This time, it was Bakugou’s turn to squawk in indignation. Midoriya muttered something like “Told you they’d remember,” to which Bakugou actually squawked again. He poked them none too gently with his shoe, forcing them to crane their head around from where they sat on the desk, and said to them, palms crackling “You weren’t supposed to say that, damn Miyo.” Kureiburu just flicked him in the forehead, and turned back around to a very shook Jirou. “Look, Kureiburu, you don’t have to use the respectful suffix with me-” “Oh i insist. You deserve my respect if nothing else. Hell, you already got Kiki hooked and that was just your guitar skills. I cannot wait to see what you can do with the baseline i wrote on the plane.” Jirou just nods, thoroughly flushed, a muttered thanks before Kureiburu turned to Shinsou, locked eyes with him, and stopped smiling. “Zuku, this him? Kiki, from the description you gave me, i thought his eyebags would be bigger.” Then the smile’s back with more intensity “I heard that you have a dangerous quirk and I for one would love to be your friend, because nothing is cooler to me than pushing the expectations of society to the edge of the road and making your own damn path. Plus, I’m already mildly jealous that your hair is naturally that colour. Do you know how much time i spend on this mess?” they gestured wildly to their own nest of blue curls, before hopping off the desk and walking forwards to shake Shinsou’s hand vigorously. Kaminari wonders idly if he’ll be able to hold his hand later, the grip looks firm and Kureiburu isn’t letting go. Shinsou has the gall to shake back just as hard, though he should not have the energy to do so. Kaminari should know, they were..busy… for a long time last night, partly why his essay isn’t remotely started. Thank Nedzu for soundproofing or he would not be able to-
“Shinsou Hitoshi, pleased to make your acquaintance. I can tell you’re close with Blasty,” a bristle from Bakugou, even though completely harmless, still happened with that nickname. “So if you forget my name, just call me by one of his. As king of insults, i answer to many.” Kureiburu smiled again, though knowingly now, “i’m just gonna shorten Shinsou to Shin, like Zuku does.”
Then Kureiburu turned around, and grabbed a handful of air. The handful of air had a wriggling hairclip, and girl’s uniform on the other end. Kaminari heard mina gasp, probably surprise, before his own brain registered what he was seeing, one braincell doing more work than it normally might. New Kid, Kureiburu, caught Hagakure in the middle of her trying to prank..them… by putting their hair up? Kureiburu caught Invisible Girl. The class almost erupts at that point, and Kaminari is really surprised that Aizawa hasn’t done anything yet. It feels like they’ve been standing around, stunned, for half an hour at least. A glance at the clock said it’d been five minutes. Damn time and its skewed perception in Kaminari’s dumb brain. Hagakure introduced herself sheepishly with a “Hagakure Toru, toru-chan please,” and Kureiburu just, lets her go. A deceptively small smile is on Midoriya’s face, almost like he knew what was going to happen. And with a whirl, Sato is attacked next. He sputters something about just calling him “Sato, or, uh, Sugarman...if you’re feeling adventurous,” before blushing and turning to hide behind shoji.
“Hey, did auntie Rana send any food with you, like uhh brownies?” Bakugou tried to sound casual, but Kaminari saw the excited sparkle in his eyes. Kureiburu just smiled that damn smile, and suddenly Asui, Uraraka, and Mina were the ones to attack. “Call me Tsuyu-chan, kero!” “I’m Uraraka Ochako! Call me whatever you think works!” “Ashido Mina, but everyone just calls me Mina!” Kureiburu turned to the girls as if they were expected, or something like a guess at a guest, and just, kinda nodded. “Okay, Tsuyu-chan, Ura-san, Mina,” a surprised flush on Uraraka’s cheeks, before she whirled to face Bakugou, and said in the most confused voice “You told them about me?” Bakugou shrugged, pointedly not looking at Kureiburu. Kureiburu just chuckled, a low rumble at odds with their flat voice. “Kiki and Zuku told me a lot about you all, but i guarantee i can name the rest of you from what these two have told me.” And they signed rapidly, at koda, who looked shocked that anyone could even sign. A flush, a smile, a responding sign. “Cool! Where’s the bird guy, to-tokoyami?”
“Unfortunately, here.” He just looked tired. Kureiburu flashed a ‘same’ expression, then turned so fast that they’re only a blur of blue hair and shiny metal. Then, walking almost, delicately, Like Todoroki, Kaminari turns to the man in question to see,
“You must be Todoroki-san. Zuku doesn’t shut up about you either. Kiki even thinks that you aren’t terrible. Let me know if you need me to go punch endeavor or give you a hug, okay?” a warm smile, then, “Iida, you’re the responsible-ish one, right?” “Yes as class representative it is my dut-” Kureiburu placed a scarred pointer finger over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. If Kaminari wasn’t already impressed by the familiarity between New Kid and Bakugou, or their ability to command the room, he was stunned into mental silence by the confidence with which they shushed iida.
“Cool, just gonna let you know right now that your quirk is cool, and I’m a regular rule-breaker.” A resigned sigh from Midoriya, and an affirmative grunt from Bakugou. Momo put her head in her hands, and looked very tired. “Ou est l’autre etudiant qui parle francais?” they asked, which got a blank stare from Kaminari. Kaminari was coming to the sudden realisation that New Kid spoke exceptional Japanese, definitely english, and french?
“C’est moi, ma cherie!” came the answering reply. Aoyama twinkled his way into sight and swept in to kiss the air near New Kid’s cheeks, once, and Ne-Kureiburu answered with a kiss on the opposite side. Then, back to understandable and normal japanese “If you ever need to talk, I’ll listen.” A smile, a turn, and “now where’s tailman? I heard that you have martial arts skills, and the sports festival footage is ass,” Ojiro shyly raised his hand, and mumbled out a “Just call me Ojiro,” and before he could react, Kaminari was pulled to the inner ring, stood next to “Kirishima, Sero, and-what’s your name again? Kiki just calls you pikachu but i feel like that’s disrespectful to pokemon.” kaminari gulped, sudden fear at being under the lukewarm gaze of Kureiburu. “Uh, Kaminari Denki, just Kaminari’s fine,” He finished lamely. Wait. Pokemon. Is Kureiburu a...nerd? There’s so many questions in Kaminari’s mind that he’s asking before he realises it: “Do you like pokemon,too?” he adds, hopefully.
“Yes I do indeed, Kaminari dear. Guess since i saved the best for last, you get that one question answered. Everyone else, no questions until we get to the dorms, please and thanks.” Kureiburu turned, deftly snatching the big black bag from the front of the room before plopping down in Midoriya’s lap, just as he was sitting down. A small “oof, we aren’t kids anymore,Miyo,” and an answering “I know Zuku but I don’t have a seat and i am not sitting on the windowsill, you know what happens when people like us do that,” At which, bakugou flinched. Actually, flinched, like, cringed as if he’s been hurt. Huh. Those three clearly have some History™, but Kaminari isn’t about to sacrifice the forty-five minutes he does have on thinking. He’s gonna work his braincell so hard, he won’t even ask any stupid questions later like ‘Do you like pokemon, too?’ Even though it was a positive response, no one else needs to know that he’s still into kid stuff.
A huff of annoyance at his elbow breaks his concentration. The same student who broke it earlier. Mineta is glaring angrily at Midoriya now, and the two people on one seat are seemingly oblivious.
“Uh, aren’t you forgetting someone?” he whined angrily, poking at Kureiburu’s shoulder. Bakugou turned around, grunts a “Fuck off grape baby,” before turning back to scratching angrily at his page. Aizawa was actually stood at the lectern, he only needed a ten-minute nap, and he wasquietly observing the classroom as he read through a thick folder. From where he’s sat, Kaminari couldn’t see much of the contents, but he knew there were a lot, and from Aizawa’s expression, they were at least mildly interesting.
“Fuckin dyke, ignoring me,” mineta muttered. Seeing no reaction, he raised his voice “I bet you’re a tranny, you don’t look like a real girl. Disgusting tranny dyke, america is so messed up. I can’t believe I’m stuck in a class with two fa-” And there’s a whirl of motion, takes a minute to process, the tableau playing out in front of Kaminari’s eyes. Midoriya is crackling with energy, halfway out of his seat. Bakugou is right beside him, palms popping dangerously. Aizawa, is, holding his capture cloth like he’s ready to fight, and although his eyes aren’t glowing, he looks angry. But the most movement, is Mineta, squirming and flailing against the foot, hooked under his jaw, choking him. Kureiburu didn’t even look fazed by the fact that they were pinning a student to the floor with no effort. They just looked tired. And then, Mineta was turning purple, and Kureiburu was removing their shoe - dirty, black, combat boots- from his throat. Aizawa didn’t even have to do anything. A tired sigh, and they turned, looked up to a stunned classroom. Then, they looked back down, at the purple swearing grape, and up at Aizawa. Mumbled “sorry, ‘ll bring this shit to the nurse. I know i didn’t damage anything but his pride, but y’know, procedure.” A shrug, then picking Mineta up, grabbing him by the ear, and out the door. An almost stunned silence fell over the classroom. Bakugou was still popping his palms, but he’s sitting in his seat like a friend (family member? sibling? girlfriend?) didn’t just take down the grapist in a matter of seconds. Kaminari has so many questions, and only thirty-eight, he notices glumly, minutes to finish his essay. Other people are clearly more concerned with Kureiburu’s well-being, and momo tentatively asks “Sensei, does Kureiburu-san actually know where Recovery Girl’s office is?” a few people grunt their assent, but Kaminari is too busy finishing his third body paragraph to notice, until Aizawa answers, almost impressed “They’ll be fine.” Kaminari has no time to ponder why any of that matters, he’s no analyst like Midoriya. So he just focused on getting his essay done on time. Doesn’t even try. Shitty grades are better than no grades, he reminds himself drily. Handing in the essay to Aizawa, and following Sero down the halls into the locker rooms, Kaminari decides to let his braincell rest, it’s done enough work for the day. His body, will be next.
“Wonder what kinda wringer Aizawa’ll put us through this afternoon,” Sero wondered, pulling on his gym uniform with the grace of an orangutan trying ballet for the first time. He nodded, and walked onto the training field, praying that it’d be over soon so he could go back to the dorms and start on Midnight’s essay.
Aizawa, as if reading minds, deadpanned to the class “this should be fun,” and cracked that terrifying smile that says it’ll be anything but.