Chapter Text
Inu Nagai stared up at the sign above his head. Aldera Middle School. He’d really have to behave this time if he wanted to stay in Musutafu, but he didn’t think that would be much of a problem. His foster mom seemed more than comfortable with just collecting a check without worrying about where he was going or what he was doing, and he had three years before he went on to UA. He just had to last three years without being an ass.
Easier said than done, he thought, and squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and strutted in through the gates, his skirt whooshing around his thighs. Really, he should make an attempt to correct that, but, eh. The less reasons a foster parent had to dislike him, the better. Oh, well. He looked good in it.
Now, to find his classroom. As a transfer student, for the fourth time in his life. Seriously, why did he always have to transfer halfway through the school year? It always made things so difficult.
The stream of classmates was meandering up into the building, and he followed along with all of the cocky confidence he possessed, acting like he belonged there, and had actually been there since day one. It was all about attitude, after all. Swing the shoulders more than the hips, heel to toe, no flat footed, don’t march, but swagger, like you could easily fight anyone.
It was easy, simple, except he had no idea where his class was, and therefore the second he stepped inside, the patented hardass look on his face was little more than a mask to hide the internal panic as he tried to cover the fact that he also did not know where the cubby was for shoes. 1-C was marked somewhere, and they already had his name on it, but he wasn’t sure…
There. A cluster of students were already around it, and he sauntered up and immediately started peeling off his ratty white high tops without a care in the world as to how scuffed up and filthy they were. A few people gave him glances, and a chorus of giggles rose up as he stood next to some green-haired kid putting away red kicks, but he ignored it as he hopped into his indoor shoes.
The boy wasn’t looking at him, bright red and fumbling, and Inu looked him over once and then firmly turned on his heel, dark blue hair swishing in the light of the genkan as he headed for the hallway. 1-C, 1-C, 1-C… Ah, there it was.
Like a soldier, he turned on one heel and marched in like he belonged there, but then stopped short. The cubbies had names. The desks did not, which meant he was not going to be able to avoid his introduction until the entire class had entered.
“Oh, Nagai,” the teacher at the desk in the corner said, and Inu slowly looked at him. “You’re Nagai, yes? The new student?”
“Yes, sensei,” Inu said and dropped into a short bow.
“Huh. I thought you started tomorrow,” he said and squinted at his class registry.
“I decided I didn’t need time to settle in, sensei,” Inu replied stiffly, mostly because there was basically nothing to unpack and nothing to see.
“Ah, you’re very studious,” he said warmly with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful student.”
“Yes, sensei,” Inu said, wondering if he had even looked at their prior transcripts. Probably not.
Students were filtering in, and a blonde boy flopped into a seat, with the green haired boy darting in nervously to try to take a seat behind him, but the teacher cleared his throat.
“Midoriya,” he called, and the boy straightened up like an electric shock. “Move down one seat; we have a new student.”
“Uh… yes, sensei,” Midoriya, apparently, blurted and scrambled to start clearing out his desk while the blonde boy let out a huff of amusement.
“Go ahead and wait up here, Nagai; it’ll probably take him awhile,” the teacher said as Inu took a half step forwards towards the seat.
“... Oh, okay,” Inu said awkwardly, praying to all that was holy that he wasn’t going to be forced to introduce himself.
“And you have to do your introduction!” the teacher added warmly, and Inu’s eye twitched dramatically.
Another bell rang out as Inu awkwardly loitered at the front of the class, wishing he wasn’t here, but knowing they had very little choice in the matter. Another two and a half years before he could get into high school, and if he got into the appropriate course, he could request scholarships and government aid to live on his own. Ah, it was going to be a very, very long middle school career.
Soon, all the students were taking their seats, and the teacher clapped loudly.
“Attention!” he called and the chatter died down. “We have a new transfer student, so please welcome her.”
Internally wincing, Inu stepped to the raised platform at the front of the class, breathed in, and schooled his face into that ice queen expression he had mastered over the years.
“My name is Mitsu Nagai. Please take care of me,” he said as he bowed low and his ponytail slipped over his shoulder.
“Ah, Miss Nagai, you have to introduce your quirk, too,” he said, dashing all of those hopes against the rocks, and something inside of him shriveled up and died.
“My quirk is We Are Family,” he said and straightened up, still internally laughing at the sheer irony on so many levels. “I can declare that someone is family and get faster and stronger.”
There were sniggers across the classroom, because, well, it was a cringey quirk, relying on all of the concepts of ‘friendship is power’, and given his general disposition, it was a bit hard to believe, but he didn’t particularly care.
“So, are you like a magical girl?” a boy with large, leathery wings called, and Inu smiled at him.
“I’m very magical,” he said sweetly. “There’s even glitter.”
Not really. It was more like sparkles that faded fairly quickly even though they caught on to surfaces and held for a bit, but it was not entirely feminine. Actually, it wasn’t feminine at all. But they didn’t need to know that.
“Alright, that’s enough,” the teacher, who Inu was fairly sure was Mr. Bushido said, and flapped his hands at him, “go ahead and take a seat, Nagai.”
Nagai nodded and slid across the floor to take up the vacated desk. The entire classroom had arranged itself, which had been incredibly embarrassing to watch, but it was a natural part of life. Really, alphabetical seating was such a pain. He almost wished his last name started with a Z, for all of his attachment to it.
The green haired boy had a notebook open that he was furiously scribbling in, hand going a mile a minute, and Nagai glanced at it before focusing back on the board. It was going to be a long day. On the plus side, he had gone to a much better school before this one, so he was pretty far ahead of the material. And, well, he had never particularly struggled with classwork. He couldn’t afford to struggle.
Even so, he wished he’d been sent to Musutafu Middle instead. It was a much better school, and the middle school that had the highest acceptance rate to UA. Oh, well. He’d survive. All that mattered was the cram school, and the government paid for that. As for independent training, well…
Technically speaking, he thought to himself as a sly smile curled at his lips, it wasn’t illegal.
.
.
.
.
.
“Hey,” the leathery winged boy said, and Inu looked up from his bento, chopsticks half in his mouth. “If that green haired freak bothers you, just let me know.”
What was his name… Tsubasa? That was it, Tsubasa. Inu frowned up at him, chewing ever so slightly on the chopsticks before he pulled them out of his mouth.
Midoriya had been a bit weird, but Inu had always trusted ‘weird’ before he trusted ‘confident’. Or, in this case, sheer arrogance.
“Is it because I’m pretty?” Inu asked mildly and stabbed his chopsticks into his rice.
“Wh… what?” Tsubasa stuttered and Inu blinked up at him.
“Is it because I’m pretty?” he repeated, nice and slow, just in case Tsubasa needed to read his lips.
“I didn’t say you were pretty!” Tsubasa stammered, and Inu smiled faintly.
“Oh. For a second, I was worried you thought I couldn’t handle myself,” he said sweetly as he stared right up at Tsubasa. “No one likes that, you know. When boys think just because someone’s pretty, they can’t handle their own. I could crack you over my knee.”
Tsubasa stared at him, and Inu stared back, unwavering, without so much as a blink. How long would it take Tsubasa to realize he was crazy, Inu wondered. Any second now…
“You’re way too full of yourself,” Tsubasa spat out and took a step back. “And ugly.”
“Well, then you’ve got to have terrible taste,” Inu drawled and picked up his chopsticks again, placing a huge bite of rice in his mouth. “Run along now.”
Tsubasa spluttered, entirely at a loss for words as he took another step back, and then another, and then turned to take off towards all of his little friends, including the blonde boy that sat in front of Inu that everyone seemed to worship around here, and he sat back against the tree in full satisfaction. He really didn’t understand all the girls his age that stammered or laughed at boys like that. It was easier to just nip it in the bud. You’d never catch him blushing at a boy’s blustering false courage.
“Y… you shouldn’t do that,” someone said, and Inu’s head snapped around. Oh. Midoriya, standing there awkwardly and clutching at his notebook.
“You heard all that and you thought it was a good idea to say the word ‘shouldn’t’ to me?” Inu asked in amusement, and Midoriya’s cheeks colored.
“It’s… it’s not,” he admitted as he shifted awkwardly. “But, uhm, don’t… don’t defend me. Please.”
“I’m not,” Inu said without a hint of amusement. “I’m defending me.”
He really, really hated it when boys treated him like a girl. Not that he was making things easy for them, but he still hated it.
“Y… yeah, but Kacchan---”
“Kacchan?” Inu echoed and glanced back at the group. Hadn’t the one in front of him been named Katsuki Bakugo? “Is that your name for Bakugo?”
“... Yes?”
“So you’ve got a cute pet name for the guy with friends that talk about you like that? ” Inu scoffed and pulled his chopsticks out of the rice, closed his bento, his appetite thoroughly gone. “You might need a few more hobbies, dude.”
Though, from the looks of him, he probably already had several. Pity. Inu couldn’t stand people like that, thinking people would leave them alone if they didn’t break in their niceness.
“Have a pro-tip,” he said and clipped his chopsticks to the side. “No one’s gonna be nice to you just because you’re nice to them. A too-sweet cake might be a cake, but it’s still too sweet.”
With that, he strode away, leaving the boy alone, fumbling with his notebook and too red in the face and embarrassed to give him a reply. Ah, he was not looking forward to being the corner between those two. High school couldn’t come soon enough.