Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As Kyoka stepped onto the train she slipped her wireless headphones over her ears and mimed swiping through her phone to select a song playlist as she sat down. She didn't need it. Instead, her headphone’s noise cancelling feature blocked out the white noise of the outside world and allowed her to focus on what only she could hear; the Soundtrack. Tens of melodies uniquely tailored to the people around her playing in her head. They wove together to make a symphony on the simple virtue of people sharing the same space before breaking apart and integrating with new pieces as some people got off at stops and more people got on. It was very rarely coherent, at least not until she decided to block out the fluff to focus on one person or one interaction, but that’s what she loved about it. Whereas a movie or video game soundtrack was so focused to cater a specific experience or perspective for their audience her Soundtrack reflected the mundanity of day-to-day life and she often found herself wishing she was a part of the music. Kyoka supposed that’s why she insisted she take the train instead of letting her parents drive her to Musutafu because if things went well today she’d be leaving her mundane world behind to begin a hero’s journey. But for now, she relaxed to something only she could hear as the Soundtrack played on autopilot and her train rocketed mutely down the tracks.

U.A’s main campus building was grand in size and architecture and it was accompanied by a theme built on epic guitar riffs and heroic brass fanfare to match as she walked under the front gates and into the building. Kyoka deactivated her noise cancelling to talk with the greeter in the entryway, the low chatter of voices, the whistle of the wind every time the door opened when someone entered, the clicking motors of the automatic door and the squeaking and clacking of shoes on the floor bombarded her immediately a shift that would have had her developing a headache a long time ago. The greeter told her where to find her assigned classroom for the written exam. She entered through the classroom’s back door as instructed and placed her phone inside her bag while taking out her water bottle and writing implements; her headphones stayed over her ears. She left her bag in an assigned cubby at the back of the room before heading to her seat.

More and more people were already entering the classroom, their themes crashed into each other without care, all staccato and sharp from the nervous tension they were carrying. It was amplifying Kyoka’s own nervousness for the exam, making her close to flying into a panic. Combined with the not-as-quiet as they thought it was shuffling, from clicking pens, shifting feet and fingers drumming against wood and now Kyoka could feel a headache beginning to form. The sounds drew her focus towards them, the soundtrack and the world fighting for dominance in her attention that had her spiralling and losing awareness. She was so out of it that when she raised her hand to activate the noise cancelling on her headphones again she almost missed the Soundtrack warning her that someone was approaching. She quickly turned to face them, stumbling almost imperceptibly in her dizziness and batting the hand that was reaching to grab her wrist away from her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded sharply, standing at the side of her table was a tall boy with midnight blue hair and glasses wearing a proper suit and tie, which was just weird. “You can’t just go up and grab someone without their permission!”

“I was wondering the same thing!” He replied, gesturing with his hand to Kyoka's headphones. “The exam regulations say you aren’t allowed any electronic devices, so why are you wearing your headphones? Do you intend to cheat!”

Kyoka looked him up and down incredulously, “Dude if I wanted to cheat then wouldn’t I be hiding the headphones? These things are pretty obvious. Besides! I'm allowed to have them, you can’t just go around making assumptions about people.”

The boy looked like he was going to repeat something but the exam proctor walked in and he immediately turned his attention to them, “Ah, sir! This examinee is breaking conduct by wearing headphones during the exam!”

The proctor looked at Kyoka who gave Iida the side eye before tilting her head at the man and raising her eyebrows in a silent plea for help. He glanced down at the notes he had been given on the students in this exam room that had been placed on top of the manila file of exam papers he’d carried in with him.

“Relax kid, she’s got permission to have those. Paperwork stamped, signed and everything,” he drawled, picking up the paper and flapping it about for show. The boy deflated with an embarrassed ‘I see’ before scurrying off to his own seat. Then the proctor addressed Kyoka, “Now before we begin. I'm assuming your phone is in your bag so would you like to hand over your music player now?”

“Right.” Kyoka slipped out of her seat and took her music player out of her pocket, placing it into the proctor's hand as per the agreement she’d made with the school regarding the use of her headphones during the exams. He looked it over before pointing at the primed red button on the side.

“I press this to tell you that you have five minutes left and then press it twice to tell you the exam is over, right?” Kyoka nodded. Then he pointed at a grey button with the microphone symbol on it, “And I press this so that you can hear what I'm saying through your headphones? Good, you’ll get this back at the end of the exam and then hand it over to the announcer of the practical exams when that begins. Are we clear?”

Kyoka nodded again, even though he addressed the last bit to the blue-haired student that was now sitting stiffly at his desk. Kyoka quickly headed back to her table, activating her noise-cancelling as she went. Immediately all the tiny shuffling and clicking noises around the room disappeared, and while the Soundtrack was still as tense as before the lack of white noise helped her manage it. As soon as she sat down the proctor raised her music player to his mouth and began giving them the start of the exam speech, playing directly into her ears loud enough that it drowned out the Soundtrack so that she could actually hear him. It was time to do this.

Chapter Text

Kyoka slouched low in her seat in the auditorium, her headphones hanging around her neck and her hands massaging her temples in an attempt to stave off her oncoming headache until after the exam. The intensity of the Soundtrack may not damage her hearing but it could overstimulate her brain, and this many people in one place where she actually had to pay attention while having no familiar themes right by her to grasp onto weren’t doing her any favours. Then, Present Mic appeared on stage and began his presentation with a loud shout. This was not going to help with her headache, but his distinctive voice did make it easier to focus on what he was saying. The boy that had harassed her before the written exam showed up too, interrupting Present Mic’s speech for longer than he needed but eventually the presentation was over and they were allowed to disperse to the locker rooms to get changed into more practical sports clothes. From there they would head to the buses that would take them to their testing grounds because damn U.A’s campus was massive.

While students filtered out of the hall, Present Mic waited patiently at his podium for Kyoka as she came down to meet him. She pulled her headphones back over her ears so that the band was behind her head rather than sitting on top of it but refrained from activating the noise cancelling again, muffling the sound but not muting it. She pulled her music player out of her pocket and double-checked that it was properly paired with her headphones before handing it over.

“Thanks, listener!” Present Mic called cheerfully, a voice much quieter than it was during his presentation with a slightly strained edge to it and his smile that told Kyoka he was struggling to even stay this quiet. His hands were moving with his words forming the signs for what he was saying. Kyoka found herself smiling at the gesture, he didn’t know whether or not she had activated her noise cancelling so he was playing it safe rather than sorry. “Though are you sure you want to take your gear into there? Competing without your hearing might put you at a disadvantage and I'd hate to see you lose this fancy setup with what we have planned.”

“My headphones have a touch activation feature, it’s more a precaution than anything,” She replied reassuringly, opting to use both sign and her voice as well, “besides if something hit my headphones hard enough to break them I think I'd have more immediate problems than some busted tech.”

“Suit yourself, you better get going though little listener. And good luck out there!”

Kyoka nodded and gave him a sharp salute goodbye before heading up the stairs to the auditorium’s doors. As she walked she pulled her examinee card out of her pocket to double-check where she needed to go.

Battle centre E, huh?

Kyoka pulled nervously at her fingerless gloves as she waited with the crowd of students for the exam’s start signal. The noise cancelling had been turned on now, standing in the middle of a crowd of over-emotional teenagers and their nervous themes were enough to set her on edge without their rapid heartbeats and compulsive shuffling. To distract herself she did one last check of her ‘gear’. She tapped her combat boots against the pavement, the memory of the sound of metal against stone played like a phantom in her mind. She patted the pockets of her black jogging pants to triple-check if she’d forgotten anything in them before pulling down the hem of her red crop-top hoodie as far as it would go. She wasn’t usually this uncomfortable about leaving her midriff exposed, but something was making her shiver in disgust every once in a while, like eyes were raking over her body in an unsavoury manner, and it wasn’t the Soundtrack this time.

Then, the Soundtrack shifted from the general mill and hubbub of a crowd to something more focused. It was like a personal internal workout track or battle theme beginning in the background and Kyoka focused ahead of her. There she could see the gates of the battle centre beginning to open so she widened her stance in preparation to take off sprinting. The doors reached their widest positions and locked in place in time with the Soundtrack building up to the music’s bass drop, timed perfectly in sync with a familiar buzz vibrating against her ears. As soon as she felt it and the instruments returned full force Kyoka took her first step in time with the music’s beat and dashed towards the open doors. Some of the other participants looked at her in confusion as she ran past them, caught off guard by her sudden start as Present Mic’s voice sounded over the intercom.

“Right, let’s start!” When no one made a move as Kyoka got further ahead he continued. “Come on get moving! There are no countdowns in real battles. You’re wasting airtime here listeners!”

The hoard of students gathered before their first challenge to enter U.A finally seemed to get the message, charging en masse towards the open gates of the battle centre. Present Mic watched the last student in a green tracksuit stumble into a run and enter battle centre B from his perch above the gates before bringing a hand up to the invisible earpiece in his ear.

“How was that?” he asked. At the other end of the line connected to the observation room, the rest of the U.A teachers and staff were watching the exam.

“Unexpected and unfortunately timed for some exam centres, it was perfect,” Principal Nedzu chirped in his eternally chipper tone. “Two of the students never even fell for our little trick!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes, a boy in centre A blasted through the gates as soon as they were fully opened. And that girl with the headphones in centre E seemed to be expecting to start given her stance before you even buzzed her in! This crop of new heroes is looking promising already!”

Chapter Text

Kyoka heard it coming before she saw it, as she did with most things. The Soundtrack was overtaken with a sharp discount chord as a one-pointer charged out of a nearby alleyway trying to surprise her. With a muted slam it stabbed its metal fist towards her but Kyoka had already jumped back and out of the way of the impact. The first slammed into concrete that buckled into a crater easily. Quickly, she rallied her earphone jacks, extending them like striking vipers to pierce the glowing red eye and belly of the robot. The glass broke, the light went dark and the one-pointer fell, deactivated and immobile. Kyoka blinked before darting down the alley it had emerged from to avoid the swarm of other students behind her. On the one hand, video games were right, when in doubt you do aim for the glowing spots or the obvious unprotected eye, and on the other hand, the Soundtrack had struck a chime to indicate she’d gotten a point.

Staying light on her feet and using the narrow alleys as relatively safe spots she let a combination of the Soundtrack and her quirk guide her towards more robots. While jacking into the ground and walls gave her a sense more akin to radar and sonar the Soundtrack was more like playing Marco Polo, her quirk was just more convenient when looking for indistinct large groups. Though it was also slower because she’d have to stop to check before moving again. The first two-pointer she ran into also slowed her down for longer than she’d like, with three glowing points on its stomach and two eyes making finding a weak spot hard to identify. Instead, when she rolled out of the way of its scorpion-like tail she stuck a jack into its main body and sent an amplified vibration into it from her heart, downing the bot by shattering its more delicate interior mechanisms. This time the Soundtrack chimed twice. Okay, so that seemed to be the play.

Kyoka downed a three-pointer on a major street before scanning the area for another alley to duck into. There, she spotted another three-pointer advancing down one that her quirk had picked out earlier as a dead end. That meant that the bot had penned a student in there considering it wasn’t busted yet. A short brass fanfare answered Kyoka's question and affirmed her resolve to help. Picking up a nearby piece of rubble from the ground and chucked it at the robot. The thing turned, its piercing red gaze locking onto Kyoka, the rockets shifting into place to launch at her. Oh, that wasn’t good.

“Hey, if you’re going to do something now would be a great time!” She called out, one jack already prepared to pierce the robot if need be, but the way the battle music had been overtaken by this person’s theme made Kyoka hesitant to do so. A floating pair of shorts, a tank top and sneakers quickly climbed onto the robot. Kyoka thought they touched something between two plates of armour before the robot deactivated. It had turned off, not broken, huh.

“Guess these things had an off button somewhere then,” Kyoka mumbled under her breath. The Soundtrack chimed in affirmation, and then it chimed to tell her she’d gotten points and a lot of them at that. But she hadn’t done anything to take down the robot? All she’d done was… oh, save another student.

The floating clothes slid off the robot to stand in front of her for a moment. Kyoka blinked in confusion and one of the tank top’s bands lowered as if the other examinee had made a questioning gesture. Then it hit her, the invisible person was probably trying to talk to her. Kyoka gestured to her headphones apologetically.

“I can’t hear you, and I can't see what you’re saying either, sorry. But hey, good luck on the rest of the exam!”

As she ran back down one of the main streets, Kyoka took down another two-pointer and a one-pointer, exhaustion beginning to weigh on her. She refocused her efforts on finding a place to rest for a moment and quickly found an alley nearby with two other exits for when she wanted to get moving again, or if a bot found her and tried to corner her. Kyoka leaned against the wall at the lip of the alley to catch her breath, she also pulled her headphones off and let them hang around her neck so she could massage her sore earlobes.

Then, the low hum of a theremin filled her ears accompanied by the haunting echo of a ticking clock and the faint whispers of laughing children. Well, that had a lot to unpack. The theremin was in constant conflict with the incidental sounds each trying to supplant the other and drown them out. This was soon followed by heavy footsteps thumping against concrete and the crashing metal of a two-pointer on the prowl its eye letting out a whir every time it refocused its vision. As they came closer to Kyoka's hiding place the theremin seemed to be losing, so Kyoka peered around the corner ready to act. As soon as the student came into her vision, Kyoka grabbed him and pulled him into the alleyway. The two-pointer charged past none the wiser and as soon as its back was to them she lept onto its back and pressed the button between its armour plates like she saw the invisible examinee do earlier. The Soundtrack chimed in two sets to signify her earned robot points and rescue points before she dropped back into the alley.

“Thanks, I guess,” the student choked out, gasping desperately for breath. “Man, this exam fucking sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” Kyoka mumbled, moving to stand between the purple-haired students and the entrance in case more robots came along. She figured he was talking about the physical strain he was under but the noise levels were not good for her head. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I'm tired and pissed that the exam caters to physical quirks. But what am I going to do about a biassed system?”

“Fair. I don't think they make it impossible for non-combative quirks to get through. An invisible kid I ran into earlier was deactivating the robots by pressing buttons hidden between their armour.” Though considering his low fitness and stamina levels that probably wouldn’t help enough, so Kyoka threw him another bone. “And with teachers like 13 on staff, you really think that they only mark the practicals based on who destroyed the most robots? I bet you that they have some sort of ‘good person’ system in place.”

“That's why you’re helping competitors,” the kid drawled, his tone defensive as the theremin got quieter.

“Nah, I'm just a good person,” Kyoka teased. She was about to say something else but Present Mic’s voice rang out over the area.

“Ten minutes remaining listeners, keep up the rocking work. Yeah!”

“Oh, shoot. Sorry, I -” Kyoka started, pawing at her headphones.

“Yeah, me too,” the boy nodded. Kyoka gave him a salute and they split up, each taking a different path than the other two paths in the alley.

Four minutes later Kyoka had managed to down two more robots when the Soundtrack urgently warned her of a massive oncoming danger. Kyoka figured it was the zero-pointer from the brief. She turned away from where the cue seemed to be coming from, only to get blocked by a three-pointer, unaware of its approach because the Soundtrack deemed the zero-pointer a greater priority. Kyoka prepared to jab it when something destroyed it from behind.

A blonde boy ran up to Kyoka with an almost maniacal, smug grin on his face, his mouth opening and closing as he said something that she couldn’t hear. Though his body language, expression and the small pieces of his theme that she could make out under the soundtrack’s panic told her that he was full of himself. He gave her a flourish and a bow as he spoke which dissuaded her from trying to read his lips even more.

Kyoka rolled her eyes at his arrogance but still went to warn him about the zero-pointer anyway but he’d already run away from her cackling all the while, so Kyoka just moved on. Moments later the ground rumbled with the landing of the zero-pointer and Kyoka scowled. In the last five minutes, Kyoka managed to net two more points before Present Mic buzzed her headphones and announced the end of the entrance exam.

Slowly Kyoka began to make her way back to the exam centre’s gate, stretching her arms over her head and shaking out her hands as she went through a small cooldown routine. Man, she really should have stretched before the exam started. Kyoka tuned back into the Soundtrack, searching for the themes of the purple-haired boy and the invisible person she’d helped earlier, but her brain was just a bit too fried to focus on something that specific and the arena was just too large to scan all at once. The Soundtrack did tell her that Present Mic was approaching her though. After passing through the centre’s gate she turned around to her right and pulled her headphones off of her head just as he landed from his perch and began to approach her.

“Hey little listener, here’s your music player back,” he grinned, holding it out for Kyoka to take. “Gotta admit, it’s one cool piece of tech.”

“Thanks. I designed the functions and integrations myself. I'm planning to commission something similar but with a lot more features to make it more practical and versatile with my costume if I get in,” Kyoka replied, taking the player and slipping it into the zipper pocket in the sleeve of her crop top after selecting the playlist she wanted to listen to on her way back home.

“I’ll keep an eye on your request if you get in then,” the teacher promised. And yeah, considering they’d count as medical devices that set of headphones and player are going to have to be made exactly to spec. “Now get going, listener!”

Kyoka gave him a polite bow before running off to get changed and head home.

A week later her acceptance letter came in. Kyoka opened it on the front doorstep, the projector sliding into her palm as she headed back inside and nudged the door closed with her shoulder. She tossed the rest of the mail on the dining table for her parents to find when they got back before sitting on the couch and placing the projector on the coffee table. All Might appeared in the hologram and it was immediately clear that he had no idea what he was doing. The gist of it was that she’d passed, her villain and rescue points totalling thirty-four and putting her in a solid twenty-fourth. Then, the message ended, leaving an image of the entrance exam score rankings, and the Soundtrack that had been playing All Might’s theme when he’d first appeared went inactive. At that same moment, thirty-nine other students would receive identical projectors welcoming them to their ‘hero academy’ and a triumphant brass fanfare accompanied by drums and guitar riff would swell in celebration and pride, overtaking even their unheard themes, because they’d done it and things were just starting to pick up. But Kyoka leaned back into her couch, surrounded by a hollow silence humming a lonely, self-satisfied tune as her fingers tapped the rhythm on her leg.

Chapter Text

Kyoka was always the first one up in her household. It was a habit that developed out of the Soundtrack having a theme that announced the rising sun, in fact, it had multiple themes for that and which one it decided to use would vary because of anything from the day of the week, the weather at the moment or the general mood of the day; Kyoka tried really hard not to read too much into how the Soundtrack knew that and just how far its omnipotence went. But Kyoka couldn’t just mute or block the Soundtrack out and she didn’t get to choose when she could hear it or not, see it had a sense of self-importance to it and would force itself to take precedence in her perception over anything else, so when dawn came it would wake her up without fail. You add to that her general dislike of sitting around listlessly and that meant that on some days she was out of the house before either of her parents woke up and was in school before any of her classmates. There were even times when she got there before any of her teachers; something that they were so used to at her old school that they gave her a key so she could let herself in particularly during the summer months when dawn came at four am. But there was one day when Kyoka wanted to be the first person in class and that was on the first day of the new school year.

So Kyoka gladly wandered through U.A.'s massive empty halls, the only times the Soundtrack picked up being when she passed the principal’s office, staff room and infirmary as she toured the main building and internalised where everything was. Eventually, she made her way to her classroom and took her seat. She put her headphones on and began reading through the orientation and student handbook information packets that had been left on the table at the front of the room. Eventually, it was a reasonable time for her classmates to be up and about and they began to filter in, and with it came the reason Kyoka always wanted to come in early for the first day of school. The Cataloguing of the Themes. Generally, students haven’t formed clicks on the first day of school so they’d trickle in one at a time, or occasionally in pairs, making it easier for Kyoka to identify and memorise each classmate’s particular themes. Kyoka recognised the first person to arrive as the boy that had harassed her at the written exam. His theme had a fast tempo with a precise rhythm that never strayed from the beat making the whole thing feel, on some level, disconnected. When he saw her he looked like she was going to say something, but recognition flickered in his eyes and he left her alone. Kyoka hummed.

More students came in, none with themes she recognised, but she was surprised to hear a composition using a singing tesla coil of all things. It belonged to a boy with blonde hair with a black lightning bolt highlight. His seat was beside Kyoka, leaning against it as he talked to another boy with a bird’s head. Then Kyoka heard a theme she did recognise approaching. Kyoka tapped her headphones off just as the door was slid open by an empty girl’s uniform.

“Hey, I remember you from the entrance exam,” Kyoka called cooly, the invisible person perked up and bounded over, “I’m Jiro Kyoka. Thanks for showing me the bots had an off switch. Oh, and what pronouns do you use?”

“Hagakure Toru, she/her! Though I guess you wouldn’t have been able to tell at the exam,” she chirped, “and I should be the one thanking you for helping me!”

“No worries.”

Hagakure skipped off to her seat before being quickly approached by another girl in the class. This one had an upbeat theme reminiscent of disco with bright pink skin and hair. The boy beside her was now sitting on his desk and the one in glasses had wandered over to scold him, Kyoka chuckled at his disciplinarian mentality when a new theme drew her attention. It was composed entirely of bass and beat which contrasted sharply with the more melodious and percussion-light melodies of the rest of the class, but at the same time, Kyoka could imagine how it could integrate well with the rest of the music that had been building up around her, if only it wasn’t playing to its own beat. The boy that it accompanied, had flawless skin and spikey blonde hair that was a shade less vibrant than the boy still being scolded by the stickler in glasses. The way he walked was loud, even if he pulled his chair back completely silent and he rocked back in his chair before kicking his feet up onto his desk without care. The boy in glasses noticed immediately shifting his focus on a dime from beside her to this new target that he immediately approached to scold. Kyoka’s attention was already drifting away as she heard the two students approach the classroom, one was standing behind the door and the other coming up the hallway. This theme also drew her attention, not because it was odd or entirely unique, but because it was very familiar. It wasn’t a theme she had run across before but everything about it seemed to echo something she had heard before and then the door opened. A boy with curly green hair walked into the room and the last part of his theme slipped into place, the brass section. The brass melody, a staple of the superhero theme since the days of the American superhero, was an echo of All Might’s own triumphant string fanfare which would explain why it sounded so familiar. The girl that came in behind him had a much gentler theme composed of a simple piano melody accompanied by strings. The two came further into the room as they talked, the green-haired boy being confronted by the stickler in glasses, but Kyoka’s gaze was still drawn to the door, another theme ringing in her ears. It felt like a hero theme, but it was written in a minor key like this hero had gone through something that had twisted them in some way, it also lacked the American sonic style and march elements characteristic of All Might changing drastically between methodically slow and urgently fast. Most tellingly the theme lacked the fanfare even though it sporadically used brass which meant that whoever this was wasn’t one to announce themselves. All that together, Kyoka quickly came to the conclusion that whoever their teacher was, he was an underground hero.

“Hey!” Kyoka called out, raising her voice and interrupting all the conversations around the room and drawing an uncomfortable amount of attention to herself. “The teacher’s at the door and you’re blocking the doorway.”

The students whipped around to the open door, only to find nobody standing there. They were confused, and some turned back to look at Kyoka like she was crazy until a tired, dead voice spoke up from the floor. “She’s right.”

On the floor there was a yellow sleeping bag, an unkempt face with tired, strained eyes staring out of it. “And if you’re just here to make friends then you can pack up your stuff now.”

Their teacher slipped out of his sleeping bag and walked up to the podium at the front of the room, dragging the bag behind him.

“I’m your teacher, Aizawa Shota. It took you eight seconds to quiet down and you didn’t even notice I was there.” His eyes slid over to Kyoka.

“Most of you,” He amended, as he pulled U.A. gym uniforms out of his bag. “That isn’t going to cut it. Time is precious in this line of work. Now put these on and meet me down on the field.”

Chapter Text

Down on the field, Mr Aizawa introduced the class to his Quirk Apprehension test, threatening to expel the student that came in last place if they didn’t take this seriously. And the ominous undertone in both his voice and his theme told Kyoka he wasn’t kidding. There wasn’t much Kyoka could use her Quirk on to improve her scores, for the grip strength test, she wrapped her elongated jacks around the machine to add additional pressure, though it wasn’t much. For the ball throw, she stabbed a jack into the ball, elongated it as long as she could, and then blasted it outwards down the field. She wasn’t sure whether that was better than her normal throw but it was a creative idea and she was proud of that. While they were working she could hear All Might’s fanfare coming from the far side of the field. Looking over she could see the bulky man peering at them creepily around the side of the wall in the ugliest banana-yellow pinstripe suit she had ever seen. Also interesting was that as the day wore on, Mr Aizawa’s theme softened in intensity, especially when Midoriya made his show at the ball throw. In the end, Kyoka had managed fifteenth place out of twenty which put her at the top of the people with non-physical quirks that didn’t help improve their base athleticism, except for the boy that looked like a pink rock, Koda, who had not only beat her out on the ball throw by asking birds to carry the ball for him as far as they could but generally had better strength and stamina than her, though she proved herself more flexible than him.

The green-haired boy who had come in last place, Midoriya, looked extremely panicked like he was about to break down crying. But despite her original concern that Mr Aizawa was going to follow through on his threat, the Soundtrack made him out to be that kind of guy, Midoriya seemed to have impressed him earlier so she wasn’t all that surprised when he went back on his word and said the expulsion threat was just a ‘logical ruse’. Yeah right.

“Of course, that was a lie, it should have been obvious if you just thought it through,” the girl in the first place, Yaoyorozu Momo, shrugged. She let off this sort of uppity attitude when she did like she was looking down on everyone for even entertaining the idea. Mr Aizawa was already walking away from the class by then, but Kyoka was aware he was still in earshot when she spoke up absently.

“I don’t think so.” Everyone turned to look at her in varying stages of confusion and concern. “I mean come on. Mr Aizawa is obviously a no-nonsense kind of guy. He doesn’t have time for jokes and in this line of work neither do we or did that lecture about how the world is cruel and unfair and it’s our job to fix it go right over your head? Do you really think he’d lecture us to take things seriously and then admonish us for not taking things seriously?”

“Then why did he not expel the person in last place,” Yaoyorozu countered.

Kyoka was startled that someone was even acknowledging much less responding to something she’d said. She shrugged, taking a moment to tune into Mr Aizawa's theme for some sort of hint, “My best guess? Either someone did something that really impressed him. Or because we took things seriously.”

“Because we took things seriously? Do you really think that he would void a threat if it were real?” Yaoyorozu asked.

“Yeah, he threatened to expel us because Ashido said that this was going to be fun, implying that we wouldn’t take things seriously. But by believing his threat and taking things seriously he had no grounds to expel us. He probably just made up the logical ruse thing. Either way, we shouldn’t take him lightly.”

Regardless of whether they agreed with her or not, everyone began to leave the field to get changed and go home. Kyoka went to follow them, but before she did a trill in the Soundtrack, she made her turn around and throw one last look in the direction Mr Aizawa was wandering in.

He was still standing there, back turned, just a ways off. He hadn’t even ducked behind the wall or anything. Though Kyoka supposed that was because All Might was already back there if their mingling themes were anything to go by. Seeming to sense her gaze he turned to look at her with a blank expression. Slowly his lips pulled up in an uneven smirk and he gave her an approving nod before stalking away. Kyoka beamed, tapping her thighs in a happy rhythm before jogging off to head home herself.

Chapter Text

When Kyoka walked into class on the second day, once again early, she was surprised to find that she wasn’t the only one to have arrived. Already waiting in class were Iida and Todoroki. Iida perked up as she entered and Kyoka preemptively turned off her headphones as he stood to speak.

“Jiro, good morning! It is wonderful to see another student so dedicated to their education that they arrive early!” he cheered, chopping his hands up and down. Kyoka blinked, eyes sliding over to Todoroki who was staring out the window impassively. Then his eyes shifted to stare back at her, though his head was still turned away. Kyoka broke eye contact first by returning her attention to Iida. Iida, whose desk was perfectly arranged with the implements he needed for class.

“Iida, we’re half an hour early and our homeroom teacher is an underground hero who comes into class in a sleeping bag,” she deadpanned, walking over to her desk. Iida tracked her movement stiffly.

“Be that as it may, a student. No, a hero, must do their best to be punctual!”

Kyoka didn’t usually question the Soundtrack but she was starting to wonder why the Soundtrack decided to give him the video-game-born chiptune for his theme when he was so stiff. Kyoka dropped her bag by her desk and sat down, cranking music into her ears as she pulled out a notebook and set it on her desk. On its black cover was the symbol of the right stave in a deep glittering red, purple triangles marking each corner and inside the pages weren’t like normal notebooks but filled with rows of empty staves. With a pencil in hand and rubber exiled to the corner of her desk, Kyoka began her notation. Drawing the themes from memory, the music was an attempt to muddle and silence them as they came in, so she could test her skill. Eventually, she pushed, pencil hovering above a new page of empty staves. She pulled her headphones down around her neck and tried to focus on the white noise and hubbub of real noise as she tried to imagine rather than hear how her classmate’s themes would come together. She thought she imagined them as they are, layered and disconnected but also as they could be, an orchestra writing a symphony in concord. Then, she tried to find her place in her imagined compositions but she found that she couldn’t.

“What are you doing?” Kaminari asked. Kyoka opened her eyes, when she had closed her eyes, her concentration was broken and abandoned.

“Trying to write a song,” she replied, tapping the blunt end of her pencil rhythmically on her desk.

“Oh, so that’s why you were humming,” Kaminari beamed as if he’d just solved some great mystery. She had been humming?

“It’s not done yet,” Kyoka warned him, her voice wavering; she hoped it wasn’t done yet.

“Yeah, you haven’t written anything down yet,” Ashido giggled almost condescendingly as she peered around Kaminari to look at Kyoka’s work. Kyoka was starting to feel crowded.

“Dude, just because it isn’t on the page doesn’t mean it isn’t all written in their mind.” Kaminari pointed to his temple and leaned forward in emphasis. Kyoka’s cheeks warmed and she found herself ducking her head away from the blonde in embarrassment as he elevated her and her work. Ashido rolled her eyes at his exaggerated behaviour while Kaminari, unaware, closed his eyes and cocked his head deep in thought.

“Whatever it was, it sounded really good.” The way he looked, Kyoka could almost believe that he was listening to the song that she didn’t even know that she was singing. It was almost like he was listening to it like it was playing live on the wind. He opened his eyes and grinned at her brightly, near invisible sparks of static bouncing around his hair. “I can’t wait to hear it when it’s finished. With all of its accompaniment.”

“Thanks.” A theme pricked the edge of Kyoka's perception and she raised her voice. “Yo! Mr Aizawa incoming. Might want to get to your desks.”

None of the students listened to her warning; other than Iida but that was Iida and everyone in the class was quickly beginning to tune him out. A few seats behind her at Tokoyami's desk Shoji stared oddly at the back of Kyoka's head. Kyoka took her own advice, packing her music notebook away and counting down the seconds before Mr Aizawa stalked into the room. Unlike the day before he didn’t roll up in his ugly yellow sleeping bag. Instead, he just walked in on silent feet and took his position at the podium, waiting. His eyes raked across the class, cataloguing who had noticed him and who hadn’t. Then he activated his quirk.

“Everyone to your seats. Homeroom starts now.” The students that were still milling about scrambled to their desks, spurred by the hollow feeling Mr Aizawa created when his eyes turned red and he activated his quirk. Kyoka stiffened in anticipation as his hair rose into the air, expecting the Soundtrack to suddenly cut out and be left in unsettling silence. But nothing changed. A mix of relief and disappointment flooded Kyoka. Relief that there was nothing anybody could do to leave her in a dark silence so unfamiliar that she could barely remember what it was like, but also disappointment that nothing could quiet the Soundtrack or quell the mountains of issues and headaches that had come with it throughout her life. There was also some confusion mixed in there, because if Mr Aizawa could erase quirks, but couldn’t mute the Soundtrack, what did that make the Soundtrack? But it was mostly relief because even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself and especially not to the Soundtrack, she was proud of how far she’d come. Kyoka absently noted that his theme changed slightly when his quirk was activated before Mr Aizawa promptly turned it off, pouring eye drops into his eyes before beginning their homeroom class.

The first class of the school day was English, marked with the loud and bombastic entrance of Present Mic as Mr Aizawa slipped away.

“Hey listeners, how are you doing today?” Present Mic cheered into yet another awkward silence. “Who’s ready for English?”

ShojI's extra ears promptly disappeared from his arms and Kyoka winced at Present Mic’s loudness. She lifted her hands to sign a simple, “sensitive hearing, lower voice” at him. On her left, Bakugo caught the exchange from the corner of his eye, vague recognition and understanding flashing in his eyes. Present Mic lightly tapped an open palm to his chest twice before continuing his lecture at a lower volume. At the back of the room, Koda relaxed from the anxious, curled posture he’d taken when Present Mic had entered the room, grateful that the teacher had lowered his voice though a curious look crossed his face when he recognised Mic’s sign but didn’t know who the teacher was responding to.

Eventually, after a morning of regular classes, lunch rolled around and Kyoka followed her classmates down to the cafeteria. But after hours of classes where she couldn’t have her headphones on she’d forgotten to put them back over her ears. So the closer she got to the cafeteria the louder the Soundtrack became and the more layered and discordant what she was hearing got. The cacophony was deafening and overwhelming and Kyoka found her footsteps faltering. With gritted teeth, Kyoka reached for her headphones and took a moment to catch her breath. When she’d calmed herself down appropriately she opened her eyes to Koda standing over her with concern etched on his face. He noticed she was looking him in the eyes immediately, flinching anxiously at the eye contact before jumping back startled and bowing rapidly when he realised how their positioning would look out of context. Kyoka looked up and down the hallway, they were alone, everyone else must have headed into lunch. Kyoka tapped Koda's shoulder to get him to look at her.

“Are you okay?” she asked, placing four fingers on her chest at one shoulder, then moving it to the other. Koda startled again.

“You know sign language?” he asked with his hands in awe and surprise. Kyoka gestured to her headphones.

“Noise cancelling, sensitive ears, my parents insisted,” she smiled, then repeated, “Are you okay?”

Koda looked down the hall in the direction of the lunchroom and chuffed, “Too many people. Annoying. I should be asking you that.”

Kyoka chuckled at the pinched expression Koda had put on, “You want to head back to the classroom and I'll grab us something to eat from the cafeteria, okay?”

“Are you sure? Going into that hell storm is probably worse for you than it is for me.”

“Yeah, I need to ask Midoriya something anyway and I think I can handle it for a little while now I've got these on and know what to expect.”

“Thank you,” Koda signed gently. Kyoka gave him a lazy “see you” before they parted ways.

Kyoka hurried to Lunch Rush’s counter and asked for two meals to go. He gave her an understanding thumbs up and started packing his standard meal option into bento boxes without hesitation. With lunch in hand, Kyoka glanced around the cafeteria searching for Midoriya’s distinctive green curls. But a prod from the Soundtrack had her gaze stopping at Bakugo’s table nearby. A now familiar scowl was etched onto his face, but his body was unusually tense and twitchy and his hands were clenched hard, she was surprised his chopsticks weren’t breaking. Sero, Kaminari, Ashido and Kirishima surrounded him, boxing him in at their table, their behaviour loud and boisterous. Kyoka reached out more with the Soundtrack, curious, and felt more than heard as they said something and Bakugo’s theme broke, shifting the wrong way. After an unnatural silence in his theme, he exploded at them and Kirishima is quick to play the middleman. Kyoka slowly turned away and walked deeper into the cafeteria.

Then she latched onto Midoriya's theme, she needed to get better at remembering she could do that, and wandered over to where Midoriya is sitting with Iida and Uraraka and raped her knuckle against his table right by him. Midoriya flinched, as he turned to look up at her. Iida opened his mouth, likely to admonish her for something. Then he noticed she was wearing her headphones and refrained. Kyoka slipped her music player from her pocket into her hand, pressed a button to turn on its recording feature and presented the player to Midoriya. He took it, surprised and started to stutter out something that Kyoka couldn’t hear. She pointed to the player’s microphone button.

“Press that and speak into the device when you’re talking or I won't be able to hear you,” she told him. “What can you tell me about Mr Aizawa’s quirk?”

“Uh- um, he can erase the quirk factor of whoever he’s looking at. And it works on transmission, I mean, emitter and transformation quirks but not on mutation quirks?”

“What about multiple quirks, and not in a crowd but if an individual had two quirks.”

“I, I'm not sure. That would be a purely hypothetical scenario and there’s no way we could get the data to determine what would happen. I mean, a person with multiple quirks is impossible, right,” Midoriya replied awkwardly with a high-pitched laugh, nervously holding the player out for Kyoka to take.

“Thank you,'' Kyoka said, absently signing it as well. She was going to dart out when Iida's flapping hands caught her attention and she handed him her player.

“Please make sure you eat something Jiro, we have hero training after lunch after all and one must be sufficiently energised to concentrate and participate at our best.”

“I’m aware,” Kyoka deadpanned, holding up the two bento boxes Lunch Rush had handed her. Iida nodded, satisfied and returned her player, allowing her to dash out of the cafeteria.

“Koda, I have lunch,'' Kyoka called as she entered the classroom, only to find Aoyama beaming stoically at her from his seat. His desk had a small tablecloth layered on it, a foreign meal sitting on a plate on top of the tablecloth, utensils laid out on either side and a glass of what was maybe, probably wine in the corner. It looked like Aoyama had started picking at it, but he wasn’t eating now and it didn’t seem like he’d eaten a lot. She looked at Koda over the top of Aoyama’s head.

“He hasn’t touched his food since I came into the classroom,” Koda admitted, “It’s concerning. We should find somewhere else to eat.”

“Do you want to eat on the roof or in the gardens?” Kyoka asked aloud in a manner that wouldn’t make it obvious their original plan was to stay in the classroom. She was pretty sure Koda would be okay with eating outside all things considered so she didn’t bother checking.

“G-garden?” Koda replied softly, demeanour and speech pattern completely shifting now that he had to use his voice for Aoyama for the sake of selling the ruse.

“So, where do you want to go? I'm fine eating anywhere out here,” Kyoka asked as she and Koda exited the building and walked down the main steps. It was quiet outside and relatively quiet in the Soundtrack too, save for Koda’s Lo-fi theme. Koda hummed thoughtfully, looking up and down the walkway at the nearby lawns with a pinched frown and shook his head.

“Not around here,” He frowned, “Mind if I call for some help.”

“Go ahead, just keep it quick,” Kyoka shrugged, twirling one of her jacks in her hand. Koda waved down a nearby pigeon and whispered some instructions into its ear before it flew off. Kyoka let her other jack extend until it reached the ground, plugging it into the earth in anticipation of the bird’s return. It returned almost immediately, followed by a motley array of wild and stray animals that made Koda look like the general of a small army. It was mostly cats, there were a suspiciously large amount of cats, with a line of pigeons watching from the branches of nearby trees but there was a trio of tanuki and a racoon which aren’t something you see all that often in the middle of the city but U.A had large areas of undeveloped woodland surrounding their artificial training grounds so it shouldn’t be all that surprising. Koda beckoned them closer and then made his requests.

“Do you know somewhere close to here where we won’t be disturbed by ‘frowny people’ who will tell us off for being somewhere where we aren’t supposed to be?” Kyoka snorted at the description, Iida immediately coming to mind. Koda didn’t seem to hear, but if he did he paid it no mind. The racoon and tanuki tilted their heads sharply. They shook their fur remaining silent, but the cats spoke up in a cacophony of overlapping meows, the pigeons chiming in once or twice. Koda put his fingers to his lips to quiet them down.

“Will you show us please?” Koda turned back to Kyoka and told her to “follow them” before all the critters started marching off, the cats in the lead with the tanuki splitting up so two were flanking Koda on one side and the last flanked Koda on the other side with the raccoon. Some of the pigeons stayed behind but a few took off and rushed ahead of the group.

Stray cats lead them to a little clearing, just off the path behind a tree line, bushes planted between the trees that were tall enough to hide the pair when sitting in the grass. The entrance to the clearing was marked by a small collection of green and yellow cat bowls hidden just at the edge of the bushes.

“Let me guess, they like to nap here because they don’t have to go far when moving between the shade and the sun?” Kyoka asked, Koda gave her a cheeky thumbs up before dismissing the animals. Some of them scampered off back to where they’d come from while others spread themselves across the clearing, content to stick around. Satisfied with the locale Koda and Kyoka settled down to eat. When the lunch period ended the two quickly packed away to head back to class. Kyoka was going to take Koda’s lunch box from him and head to the cafeteria to return them when he raised a hand to stop her and asked for her lunch box instead.

“You braved the ocean of loud people to get them for us, at least let me bring them back.”

“Okay, fine. But we do this again tomorrow, okay?”

“Agreed, this was nice. And I'll grab us lunch tomorrow okay?” Kyoka went to object but Koda continued signing sternly, “I can’t let you do it all the time, you hate the noise just as much as I do. How about we alternate? I'll grab lunch tomorrow and you return it and we’ll switch every day after?”

“Fine, I can live with that,” Kyoka agreed, finally handing Koda her bento. He beamed back at her before hurrying off to return them to Lunch Rush as Kyoka continued to their classroom. Note to self, pack a picnic blanket in my bag going forward, she thought, the Soundtrack chiming in agreement.

Chapter Text

After lunch, the class was all seated and waiting in anticipation for their next lesson before their teacher had even arrived. Kyoka lifted her head when she heard a theme approach, a dramatic American fanfare with all its cheezy trappings except for the fact that it wasn’t written with brass in mind. That theme could only belong to one person, All Might.

“I am. Here! Coming through the door like a hero!” All Might announced as he entered the classroom and walked to the podium very robotically. He announces that their first training session will be a battle trial before revealing their costumes with the push of a button. Cases labelled with their student numbers slide out from the walls and Kyoka grins alongside her classmates in part spurred by the excitement in the Soundtrack but also her own anticipation of seeing the devices and designs she’d requested for her costume. She grabbed her number twelve case as her classmates retrieved their own before rushing down to the locker rooms.

Once in the changing rooms, she snapped her case open. Sitting at the top was a combat-grade version of her wireless headphones. The accompanying adapted music player which had been turned into a communicator and control unit sat next to it clipped to a sash so her hands remained free when it wasn’t in use. A letter had also been paperclipped to the sash and underneath them was a set of knee pads and elbow pads. She set the devices and letter to the side to get to the folded-up fabrics and leather beneath that was her actual costume. Pressed up against the edge of the case was a stick of eyeblack grease in a shade of dark violet

The costume was a dark-red violet top that matched her face paint made of a reinforced fabric for both tensile and shear strength that extended to just below her chin. There was also a sturdy black jacket that was designed to minimise friction and road rash, similar to the ones worn by bikers, a pair of black cargo pants and a pair of sturdy boots that contained speakers that she could jack into. Kyoka put the shirt on first, then the elbow pads, followed by the cargo pants, kneepads and then finally her jacket.

“Why don’t you put the elbow pads over the jacket? That way it matches the colour scheme on your trousers?” Ashido asked, looking over. Kyoka glanced at the other girl through the mirror she was looking at as she applied the two lines of grease under her eyes to absorb sunlight.

“It restricts the range of mobility in my arms and beyond sticking to a theme I'm going with function over form here,” Kyoka grunted, Ashido pouted in a way that told Kyoka that she thought she was right and wouldn’t let it go.

“But I'll talk to support about getting some white elbow patches for the jacket,” Kyoka offered without intent. Ashido seemed to accept this and returned to her tie-dye, faux-fur lined leotard that looked like it was made of fabric too thin to protect her from her acid much less blunt force trauma.

Finally, Kyoka turned her attention back to the most important part of her equipment, her support gear. Taking a seat on the benches in the middle of the locker room she opened the letter and carefully read through all the notes and instructions the support department had left her. Next, she connected the headphones to the player. The letter had said that they couldn’t allow her to use Bluetooth to connect the headphones to the player like she did with her casual set because Bluetooth was too unprotected and raised security risks but she could use a private wireless network and secured frequencies in the same way. Flipping to the back of the letter there was a note left in a handwritten scrawl at the bottom reading: “Don’t worry, we found a workaround that will let you play your music using this set-up, even if the staff don’t approve. ; )”

Underneath that in a different colour was another handwritten note saying: “What that means is we put Bluetooth compatibility back into these devices after the fact so you can also use them casually if you wanted to. Though we insist you use official lines of communication for all hero work. Access to those functions is in a locked hidden menu, and further instructions are hidden in a pocket in your cargo pants. You’ll figure it out.”

Kyoka did a quick search of all her pants pockets until she found those instructions, then hid them in her locker with her school uniform so that there was no chance of it getting destroyed during training. Also in the envelope was a smaller piece of paper, it was written in clear print and almost looked like it was printed except when Kyoka tilted the page there was a telltale shine of wet ink and when she looked at the back of the page there were slightly raised areas from the pressure of writing. This piece of paper Kyoka assumed could have only been written by Principal Nedzu as it outlined all the frequencies and networks used by the U.A. staff communications and the speakers and microphones that all of their surveillance systems were connected to. But the ending note was… odd.

“If you had a screen this would also give you access to camera visuals ¯\_ȌᴥȌ_/¯. Be wise (υ◉ω◉υ).”

Kyoka never knew Kaomoji could be intimidating but here she was. And it also left her with more questions than answers, but Kyoka resolved to assume that Principal Nedzu was enabling the support team’s shenanigans by not removing their notes giving her Bluetooth access and moved on. She picked up the player for her new headphones. Compared to her casual one which looked like an independently designed and upgraded iPod this controller was shaped like a walkman but shrunk to the size of a compact thanks to technological advancement making everything smaller. It had come with a strap attached to it, the length of which made it obvious Kyoka was supposed to wear it cross-body like an over-the-shoulder purse. After running through the basic setup procedure Kyoka put the headphones on and began to run through and test each function of the headphones and player. She started with the noise cancellation, testing both the tap activation and manual activation, leaving it on as she went through the other features. She had also tested the player’s microphone and the headphone-mounted frequency shifter when the Soundtrack pushed a theme into perception on her left with an approaching warning. Kyoka unfurled a jack and wrapped it around the approaching hand, pulling it down and away from where it was reaching for her headphones.

“What?” Kyoka asked icily, glaring at the empty space where Hagakure would have been as she manually deactivated the noise cancelling.

“Um, everyone’s all ready to go. We thought we’d head out together and you were kind of just sitting there.”

“I’m not ready yet,” Kyoka told her blithely.

“But you’re all dressed, kero,” Asui said, “and remember what Mr Aizawa said yesterday about wasting time and lives lost?”

“I’m guessing none of you have support gear then?” Kyoka raised an eyebrow at them. “It’s called an equipment check. I have to make sure all the functions and systems on my tech are working before I go out so nothing will suddenly break on the field and leave me at a disadvantage. Also since these are a combat version of my ‘disability’ support the department had to build them to exact specifications and the designs are unique. So forgive me for being careful. You don’t have to wait, you can go on ahead.”
She turned to Asui, “And Asui, Mr Aizawa also said that we can’t save lives if we’re incapacitated or dead, these are supposed to stop me from becoming incapacitated.”

“Fair, kero. Also, call me Tsu.” Kyoka nodded and returned to her final checks and preparations, leaving out the comms system check because there wasn’t another comm she could link to and test it. The girls had already left when she was finished so Kyoka figured she must be pretty late if they didn’t want to wait up on her and started running towards class.

When she got there it sounded like the class had already started but as she got closer Kyoka could hear that All Might hadn’t begun yet and he was overwhelmed by the questions he was being bombarded with by the rest of the class. He had just gotten them to settle down when Kyoka slipped into the back of the group and then he pulled out a set of cue cards from his costume pocket. Koda, also at the back of the group, seemed to be the only one to notice her arrival, giving her a subdued wave as she stopped beside him. She tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

“Did I miss anything?” she signed as All Might began to explain the lesson, keeping an ear on his instructions.

“No, complemented costumes,” Koda replied, Kyoka nodded in thanks. Their class assignment was a battle trial, heroes vs villains. Or in more accurate terms, offence vs defence where the goal was to capture the point.

Team A was Midoriya and Uraraka. Uraraka gave her partner a brilliant smile and he smiled back, just as bright but wavering as if he was flustered. Their themes mingled together, Uraraka’s slow piano with Midoriya’s energetic strings not quite fitting well until the tempo of Uraraka’s theme jolted forwards to match Midoriya’s. They’d be a little uneasy and Midoriya was probably going to have to lead, but they’d be a good match.

Team B was Todoroki and Shoji. Todoroki was the obvious powerhouse but it looked like he was planning to complete this exercise on his own. The mournful voice that accompanied his melody completely drowned out ShojI's theme. Which was pretty sad, if Kyoka really thought about their themes, breaking down their musical elements she could see them working pretty well together, beneath the voice, Todoroki's main instrument was an ascending piano line repeated again and again and ShojI's theme was already very minimalist. A piece that transitioned from one motif to the other united by a wordless voice had so much potential. They turned to look at each other when their team was announced, sizing each other up before looking away seemingly communicating nothing in the exchange.

Team C was Yaoyorozu and Mineta and this was the first pair that Kyoka knew wouldn’t cooperate at all and had no potential to. Not just because Mineta demonstrated pervy behaviour already. Yaoyorozu’s theme was a legato violin solo that built up. Mineta’s theme was a glaring billboard saying ‘look at me, I'm a joke’ taking from looney tunes or Tom and Jerry style hijinks. That isn’t to say that the violin couldn’t work with the cartoon music, as it was already a staple of their orchestras but Yaoyorozu’s legato melody was at odds with the staccato and sometimes jazzy violin playing characteristic of comedy compositions. Beyond that, a part of Kyoka found it disturbing that the Soundtrack saw Mineta’s disgusting, disrespectful and borderline illegal behaviour as nothing more than a joke. Especially when she saw something sinister in the way he ogled his partner, barely stopping himself from drooling as he objectified her body with his eyes.

Team D was Bakugo and Iida which was another pair Kyoka didn’t see working out. Bakugo’s drums drowned out Iida's chiptune easily and the chiptune couldn’t get loud enough to match it without becoming ear-bleeding screeches. Which Iida's theme was trying to do as Iida himself tried to engage with Bakugo as a duo. Kyoka quickly turned her attention away from the pair, latching on to Koda’s lo-fi theme beside her as she willed All Might to hurry up.

Team E was Aoyama and Ashido. Now that Kyoka could see them coming together, Aoyama’s guitar motif could provide a good set-up and baseline for Ashido’s funky upbeat disco.

Team F was Koda and Sato who gave each other polite smiles and small waves before turning away again. While their themes didn’t necessarily clash, lo-fi being a quality of music that could fit into any genre, and Sato didn’t seem like a loud high-energy person Kyoka couldn’t see bubblegum pop being low fidelity and still fitting with the modern consensus of either style. Not without one or the other changing drastically anyway.

Team G was herself and Kaminari. Kaminari, whose theme was played by a singing tesla coil, an instrument so unconventional that its limitations and potential fascinated Kyoka because outside of videos she’d never seen it used before nor had she ever gotten the chance to learn how to play it. And when she expected Kaminari's theme to change in some way, even if it settled back to what it usually was, like all the other themes of her classmates did as they got paired up, he did nothing. After all, why would his theme change if nothing was acting on it. But it did leave her apprehensive as to how this assignment would go.

Team H was Tokoyami and Tsu and to say their themes clashed would be an understatement. Tokoyami's theme was in a deeper register, a minor chord that bordered on chromatic and seemed content only being a baseline with nothing to accompany it. Which is weird for a theme written on the piano even if it isn’t weird for a theme like Bakugo’s since that was written on the drum. Meanwhile, Tsu’s theme was all chords jumping between scales and all across the stave in different inversions randomly and without thought for how an actual human would play these in time especially since it was played on a mix of ukulele and xylophone making the whole thing very childlike even if Tsu’s instruments were slightly off tune making all the notes sound duller. Though neither theme seemed to be trying to drown the other out so at least they weren’t in conflict.

Team I was Ojiro and Hagakure, their themes blending together really well that Kyoka couldn’t pick them apart at first glance.

Finally, Team J was Kirishima and Sero. Kirishima’s sort of stilted, upbeat sort of techno theme that worked so well with Ashido’s disco seemed at odds with Sero’s theme music. Not in a bad way though, both themes stood together as their own unique thing and seemed satisfied. Which was probably a better move than trying to get one to match the other or find a way to meld them together. Kirishima's theme just wouldn’t be able to find a way around the three-three-two rhythm of Sero’s theme which was foundational to his entire musical identity and from which his entire reggae theme was constructed.

“Up first we’ll have Team A as heroes against Team D as villains!”

Kyoka did not like what the Soundtrack just did there.

Chapter Text

“I wish we knew what they were saying,” Mina whined, her gaze locked on the screen showing the camera feed following Midoriya and Bakugo’s battle on the ground floor. All Might froze, a headset that was probably connected to the facility’s sound system to his ear. Kyoka could commiserate. Midoryia and Bakugo’s themes threw each other into chaos and conflict spurring each other on louder and louder. Bakugo’s theme with its crashing symbols of tantrum-like dominance and Midoriya’s with the tempo of panic were beginning to give her a headache. She could turn her headphones on, but that would leave her with only the Soundtrack and she didn’t want to miss her teacher’s instructions if he had any so for now she’d have to live with it. But Ashido’s comment did give her an idea.

“Let's see if I can.” Kyoka reached up to her headset and began skimming through frequencies trying to recall what Principal Nedzu's note had told her and find the one linked to the radios the students were using. She knew she’d tuned into the right one when she heard Bakugo say:

“-I secrete nitroglycerin like sweat from my hands and make it blow up, imagine what I could do if I had a lot of it.” Bakugo's theme took over the Soundtrack, it wasn’t trying to drown Midoriya out anymore, this was going to be his triumph. And from the look on his face- “That’s right, these gauntlets aren’t just for show, they’ve been storing up my sweat inside for one monster blast.”

- It was going to be deadly.

“Sir!” Kyoka called. Who thought giving a volatile kid with anger issues a weapon of mass destruction would be a good idea?

“Young Bakugo, don’t! You’ll kill him!” All Might called into the microphone. Murmurs broke out among the students, concern and panic crossing a lot of their faces. Great job keeping control of the situation there sir.

“He’ll be fine so long as he dodges!”

All Might’s only response was to tell him that if he used that power again he’d lose the match. Which only worked because he was appealing to Bakugo’s pride and desire to win. He should have called the match there and disqualified them for attempted use of deadly force, instead, it continued and Midoriya got a broken arm for his troubles. In the end, the only damage taken was damage done to himself but still, it was close, and Bakugo never received any further reprimand either. Did All Might think that a few words would stop what seemed to be an ingrained behaviour of overreaction and inability to channel aggression? Whatever.

“That was intense,” Someone said. The building they were using had been destroyed and they were going to have to use another building, Midoriya was being carried back to the main building on a stretcher headed directly for Recovery Girl’s office.

“I feel like that’s an understatement.” Murmurs of agreement ripple across the crowd. All Might was quick to move the class along to the battle. Which was over in a matter of seconds as Todoroki froze the whole building solid and just walked up to the bomb, his theme consuming all the others like his ice consumed the building.

“Who thought it was a good idea to let someone run around naked as their hero costume,” Kyoka muttered. Koda turned to her confused and she elaborated in sign, fingerspelling Hagakure's name when she noticed Mineta looking over.

“Stupid, bad people.”

“Right?”

“He incapacitated them without doing any damage to the weapon or his teammate,” All Might said through chattering teeth, “take note of his technique.”

Kyoka snorted, “Yeah, but Shoji told him they were both barefoot and Todoroki froze them up to their ankles. What, is he not concerned that they’ll get hypothermia? They could lose their feet if he’s not careful.”

“How did you know that?” Yaoyorozu asked curiously. Kyoka must have said that louder than she had intended and she shifted her weight anxious at the attention the other girl was giving her. She shrugged and gestured to her headphones, It looked like she was playing this off as intentional then.

“My headphones double as a communication unit so I tapped into the radio frequency.”

“Does it matter though? They’re supposed to be villains.”

“Okay, there are a lot of issues with that statement. One, Just because they’re villains doesn’t mean they aren’t human and shouldn’t be treated with basic human decency or rights. Two, yeah ‘supposed to be,’ this is a simulation and they’re our classmates. Or are you saying you want them to get sick and lose a limb? Three, you aren’t supposed to go all out in training, that's how you hurt someone and injuring people isn’t how you learn,” Kyoka explained.

“You may have a point there young Jiro, but if you don’t go all out then you will never reach beyond your limits!” All Might’s everlasting grin was becoming insufferable.

“I’m not saying they can’t go all out, I'm just saying that as heroes isn’t it our responsibility to make sure our actions don’t cause undue harm? We shouldn’t learn how much the human body can handle what our quirks put them through by committing manslaughter in training or the field,” Kyoka argued. All Might and most of the other students flinched at her wording but Kyoka turned to Kaminari nonplussed. “How much electricity would it take to stop a human heart?”

“Depends, are we measuring in volts or amps? And how far away am I from the person? Because ten thousand volts at less than fifty milliamps could do nothing, especially if I'm not in contact with the person. The lowest and easiest possible combination with a guaranteed kill is if I'm in contact with the target and the current runs at ten Amps. At that point, the voltage doesn’t matter.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Research… and my dad’s an electrician. Even if I didn’t want to be a hero I wouldn’t want to kill someone if I accidentally discharged. Okay, now I see your point. That was a dick move for Todoroki there.”

Kyoka waved her hands in a sort of ‘you see’ manner, while Kaminari nodded sagely in agreement. “That isn’t taking into account the temperature shock he might have sent Ojiro and Hagakure into by going from normal to freezing to hot again in a matter of minutes. And even if he didn’t do damage to the bomb he probably did tons of structural damage to the building and think about the consequences for the civilians who might want to go back to using that building once the threat has been cleared. Now they have to deal with possible water damage and the extra weight of the ice might have damaged the structural integrity of the building.”

“Should... Should we go to the nurse? Because she raises some good points,” Ojiro asked from the doorway, gesturing to himself and Hagakure. They must have arrived sometime during the conversation, Kyoka too focused on her ranting to clock them with the Soundtrack.

“No, no you’re fine. We wouldn't want any more students missing out on class now, would we? So, who do we think is MVP for this match?”

Kyoka backed down as the conversation changed direction. It was clear All Might was going to and still wanted to give Todoroki MVP but Yaoyorozu made a convincing argument for Shoji's faith in his teammate and succinct scouting that allowed Todoroki to reach the bomb faster than searching the entire building Kaminari gave her a thumbs-up before turning his attention back to the discussion but Koda nudged Kyoka to get her to look at him.

“Teacher has never taken a martial arts class. The reason why fights have a referee on the mats with them right here folks.”

“This was your first clue? I thought it was the fact that, despite naming them different things, he only knows how to throw one kind of punch,” Kyoka signed back. Koda baulked, struggling to hold back laughter and letting out a cross between a squeak and a snort. Kaminari and Shoji both heard the sound and turned to look at the pair, but Kyoka waved them off with a lazy smile.

The next battle was Team H on offence against Team J on defence. Which ended summarily in Team H’s success. Tsu was able to hop around Sero’s web of tape thus bypassing Kirishima who would only get stuck in Sero’s tape. Meanwhile, TokoyamI's preference for range and Dark Shadow’s two giant claws distracted the two villains as the bird-headed boy tried to grab them to pin them in place while Tsu secured the weapon. In the end, Sero’s tape defences were more of a detriment than help and Tsu was declared MVP for her display of acrobatic skill.

Finally, it was Kyoka’s turn. Herself and Kaminari on offence against Yaoyorozu and Mineta on defence.

Chapter Text

“So, what’s the plan?” Kaminari asked when they were camped outside of the office building, turning to Kyoka and giving her a sly smirk.

“Knowing their quirks they’ll probably trap the building,hold up with the weapon in a corner room and wait until the time runs out. Also, not the time,” Kyoka glared, reprimanding Kaminari for trying to flirt with her. He shrugged and turned his attention to the map they were given. “I can use my quirk to find them and the traps but getting through them is going to be the main issue.”

“What if we go in through a window?” Kaminari asked, pointing at the abundance of windows outlined on the map.

“Right, if they’re going to barricade themselves in they’ll want to limit the number of entrances so they’ll use a room against the walls rather than in the centre,” Kyoka agreed, peering over his shoulder to check the map herself. “Every one of those has a window, and I doubt they’ll have time to trap the windows even if they do remember that it’s an entry point.”

Kyoka turned back to look at the building, the way it towered above them reminded her of something. Grappling hooks or something with the same function might be a good investment, “but uh, if they put the bomb on a higher floor how are we going to get up there?”

“Right, dammit,” Kaminari looked at his palm and let electricity crackle into it, “I think I can melt Mineta’s sticky balls with my quirk, and if it’s an electric trap I can probably short it out too.”

“And if it’s a manual trap I might be able to extend my jacks and trip the wire ahead of us,” Kyoka added, “it’s not great, but it’s the best we got.”

“Right.”

“Students, your preparation time is over. Your time begins now!” Kyoka and Kaminari nodded at each other and hurried to a window near the front door. Kyoka stabbed her jacks into the glass causing it to shatter and swiped her elbow along the sill at their entry point to get rid of any shards still sticking up before they both climbed inside, her jacket making the glass shards harmless. Kyoka moved ahead of Kaminari, sticking a jack into the nearby wall and activating her noise cancelling to track their opponents' heartbeats. After a moment she opened her eyes and turned back to Kaminari motioning with her fingers, “Two, up, one.”

He nodded, pointing to the floor and gestured across it then raised two thumbs at her, tilting his head as if in question. Kyoka assumes he’s asking about traps and sticks her other jack into her boot and blasted a low beat out to get an echolocation read. She frowned, there’s nothing there. Were they that confident in their barricade that they didn’t bother to trap anything else? Oh, wait, they came up with the idea to barricade themselves in and did that first, then realised they didn’t have time to get out and set traps and then reset the barricade again, didn’t they? She gave Kaminari a thumbs up and he took that as the signal to move ahead, his palm lighting up with electricity to give himself a little bit of light. Kyoka jogged after him as he led them to the staircase.

When they reached the top of the stairs on the first floor Kaminari turned back to Kyoka and gestured for her to go ahead. She was the one who knew which room they were in after all. She took a moment to double-check their location and the status of any traps before jogging to the single door that would lead them to the weapon room. The closer they got to the door the softer Kyoka tried to make her footsteps, Kaminari trying to do the same before just deciding to walk instead of running lightly. At the door Kyoka stuck a jack into it, probing it with her heartbeat. She punched through the layer of the door easily and her jack hit something metal on the other side.

“Metal barricade,” she told Kaminari in a low voice. He walked past her to the end of the hall where the window was and stuck a thumb at it.

“Window?” he mouthed, then he looked down and abruptly turned around and headed back towards Kyoka, “nevermind, I don’t know what Midoriya is made of but I am not risking that fall and a few broken bones to win this.”

“Think if we can lure them over you can shock them through the door?” Kaminari reached out to put a hand on the door, as it got closer the space between his finger and the door lit up with a spark crossing between them.

“No, it’s not made of something conductive,” he replied with a frown. He looked down at the handle and pulled it.

“Wait,” Kyoka hissed. But it was too late and the door… the door opened to reveal a wall of steel behind it. “Huh, how did you-?”

“Double action door, says so on the blueprints.”

“Why do you know what a double-action door looks like on blueprints?”

“Dad uses electrical blueprints for construction,” Kaminari shrugged.

“This helps us get in, but we don’t know how to fight them,” he pointed out.

“Yaoyorozu can probably create rubber boots or insulators to counter my quirk easy peasy and Mineta is kinda built for restraining.”

“Yeah, restraining orders,” Kyoka said, rolling her eyes. Kaminari muffled a chortle behind his hand. “But you do have a point, we can't take them head-on.”

“This is steel so we can probably try that luring plan.”

“No, it was a silly idea and even if one of them falls for it the other probably won’t and we don’t exactly have a plan to get past this metal either.” Both of them took a step back to think for a moment.

“Hero team, five minutes remaining!” All Might announced over the intercom.

“Oh, what if you use resonant frequencies?” Kaminari suggested. Kyoka gave him a surprised look and he raised his hands defensively, “What? I've seen Mythbusters. I don’t think you can shatter steel like crystal or glass but you might be able to collapse the building like soldiers marching on bridges.”

“Even if that would work I don't think I can do that,” Kyoka argued.

“But they don’t know that, do they?” Kaminari responded slyly, “We can bluff them out, force them to surrender unless they want the building to collapse on them.”

“Right, I'll head outside to really sell it, you do the talking.”

“Wait you’re leaving this to me but-” Kaminari looked panicked waving his hands in denial.

“It was your idea. Besides, you’re my partner, I trust you. wait until I'm in position before you start talking, okay?” Kyoka rushed back out of the building, this time uncaring of whether Mineta and Yaoyorozu could hear her or not. As she went she took out the radio All Might had given her to talk to Kaminari and put it in one ear, removing the headphones from it. Then she turned her headphones to the radio frequency of the other team so that she could try and get both sides of the conversation. Once she was a few metres away from the building and below the window, into Mineta and Yaoyorozu's room she plugged her jacks into her boots and put her hand to the radio.

“Kaminari, I'm in position, you’re good to go.”

“Right,” Kaminari responded quietly. There were footsteps, then the sound of Kaminari knocking on the metal door. “Hello, is anyone home? It's the heroes, we have you cornered, if you would like to surrender yourself that would be much appreciated.”

“And why would we do that, hero,” Yaoyorozu spat. Looks like she decided to put on a character like Iida did. “We’re the ones with the weapon and you’re running out of time.”

“Because if you don’t then my partner will bring the whole building down on your head,” Kaminari said simply.

“You can’t do that!” Mineta squawked, panicked and fear laced his voice.

“Because you don’t have the capability to,” Yaoyorozu interrupted, trying to keep control of the situation. “Besides, if you did that you’d risk activating the weapon.”

“And if we didn’t the weapon would activate anyway,” Kaminari said, “it’s risky, but it’s also the only way we succeed.”

“You can’t be serious, earlier Jiro was the one complaining about how our classmates acted with no regard for safety or collateral damage, consumed by their desire to win, and now she wants to drop a building on us?” Yaoyorozu snapped, breaking character.

“You’re bluffing.”

“It’s your choice villain, you’ve been warned. The only way you’re leaving this building is in handcuffs or under a pile of rubble regardless of who created that rubble. Time’s ticking. Besides, you and I both know that that weapon of yours is fake. So the only ones at risk here are you.”

“What, but you can’t!” Yaoyorozu hesitated, thinking over her options. “Very well then, we shall concede-"

“Time is up. Villain team wins!"

It was silent on all lines for a few seconds before Yaoyorozu and Mineta hurried into action, dismantling their barricade. Meanwhile, Kaminari made his way out of the way to where Kyoka was waiting. When he came up to her he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“Hey, sorry I screwed things up in there,” he said.

“It’s fine, the exercise worked against us. If we were in a real-world scenario we would have won,” Kyoka grumbled.

“Hey, doesn’t matter what All Might says, I call that a win,” Kaminari declared, a sharp grin on his face and he put his hands behind his head and leaned back.

“Really?”

"Yeah! Our job was to act as heroes and villains and we stayed in character the entire time. Even if, admittedly, that last plan was a bit extreme.”

“We were never going to do it! And you did get Yaoyorozu to abandon the scenario.”

“And I call that a victory,” Kaminari replied, giving Kyoka an exaggerated bow.

“Theatre kid.” Kyoka jabbed him in his stomach with her elbow as Yaoyorozu and Mineta appeared out of the building and the group of four began making their way back to the observation room.

“Literature kid,” Kaminari corrected, “I prefer being in the audience and dissecting the decisions made on the stage and how that affects the subtext of the text than being on it and having to put all of it together.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I prefer reading over watching anyway. But when it comes to plays you really can’t get the full impact unless someone’s there to play it out. It's the difference between reading song lyrics and hearing it performed. Poetry too.”

“So you admire the bards but could never conceive of being one.”

“I would die, having to pick one interpretation is just not… not natural. You know?” Kaminari whined. Kyoka grinned before beginning to devolve into chuckling, Kaminari following suit shortly after, barely able to keep his devastated expression on his face for the bit.

“Well then, now that we’re all back together, who do you think was the MVP of this simulation?” All Might asked once they had all gathered in the control room.

“Ooh, ooh!” Hagakure called, waving a gloved hand back and forth frantically in the air, “Yaoyorozu! Because she set up that impenetrable barricade that guaranteed their win!”

“Yes, excellent observation!” All Might agreed. “Young Yaoyorozu formulated a plan that took all possibilities into account and executed it with great efficiency, avoiding combat entirely.”

“I’d say Kaminari was MVP,” Kyoka argued, raising her hand.

“What, why? Kaminari didn’t even do anything!” Sero said.

“Hey!”

“You weren’t listening to our communications,” Kyoka reminded him, “every time we hit a roadblock, Kaminari would have a suggestion at the ready. Even if there was no way we could actually do them, it kept our momentum going and kept us brainstorming until we found something that worked.”

Kyoka turned to Yaoyorozu, “That threat of his? His idea.”

“Using resonant frequencies to collapse the building? How did you know that was something that could happen?” Yaoyorozu asked, turning to Kaminari.

“Mythbusters,” he shrugged, “wasn’t anything special.”

“Wait, if that was the plan then why didn’t we see you do it? That would have been sick,” Kirishima argued.

“Because it would have been dangerous, reckless and caused a lot of collateral damage,” Kyoka snapped back.

“Right, the real plan was to use it as a bluff to trick the villains into surrendering peacefully because there was no way Jiro and I would beat them in a fair fight. Not with how versatile Yaoyorozu’s quirk is and how Mineta could use his quirk to limit our movement drastically.”

“And that was your idea? But you’re an idiot!” Ashido pointed out. Kyoka grimaced and shot her a glare.

“Hey,” Kaminari whined indignantly.

“As insightful as this discussion was for students, we still have more battle trials to get through so let’s move along now, yes,” All Might interrupted, oblivious to the brief flash of hurt that flickered across Kaminari's face.

After the last groups did their battle trials All Might gave a little speech before dismissing them so they could get changed and head home. While Kyoka was carefully packing away her headphones she heard Yaoyorozu approaching her in the Soundtrack and turned to face her.

“Do you need anything?” she asked.

“I just wanted to apologise for class today,” Yaoyorozu said uncertainly.

“What for?” Kyoka turned back to her costume case, working while Yaoyorozu continued talking. The code instructions from the support team were already tucked in the pocket of her blazer. She wondered if there was someone she could talk to about taking the headset home so she’d have more time to configure her shortcuts and work out the Bluetooth compatibility.

“All Might made the wrong call. I surrendered before time ended, so you should have won.”

“I don’t mind, it was a training exercise. Besides, we managed to throw you off which I count as a win.”

“Really?” Yaoyorozu asked, oddly flattered.

“Yeah, you have the most flexible and versatile quirk in the class. We were never going to beat you in a fair fight and we knew that, so we tried to change the rules to throw you off and it worked."

“Oh, thank you. Well, I should get going, but if you… I mean. thank you.”

Chapter Text

They were packing before lunch the next day when she heard Bakugo’s theme break again and her head snapped over to him sharply. This time Kaminari, Ashido, Sero and Kirishima weren’t saying anything but they were approaching Bakugo all bright and bubbly. As they closed in on him Kyoka noticed how he tensed up, shoulders rising closer to his ears as he hunched over. His hands twitched too as he carefully turned his wrists so his palm faced the sky as if he wanted to clench them unconsciously but consciously knew that he couldn’t.

‘I secrete nitroglycerin like sweat from my hands and make it blow up,’ Kyoka recalled. Koda came up to her and tapped her on the shoulder, concerned that she hadn’t moved from her seat yet, even though her desk was clear. She turned to face Koda, her eyes drifting back to Bakugo’s desk before addressing Koda.

“Go on ahead,” she said while signing ‘grab three’ to him, “I’ll catch up.”

Koda looked over her head at Bakugo, ”are you sure?”

Kyoka smiled at him and Koda nodded before turning to leave. Kyoka caught his sleeve before he could go and quickly handed him the tablecloth she’d brought with her to use as a picnic blanket. Koda’s eyes widened when he saw it and he bustled out of the room beaming. Just like yesterday, Aoyama was seated stiffly at his desk by the door. Kyoka slipped a book out from her desk, stood up and turned towards Bakugo. She bullied her way between the crowd that had surrounded him as they tried to convince him to come to lunch with them and forced Ashido and Sero to take a step back. Before one of them could speak again Kyoka interjected.

“Hey Bakugo, do you mind walking through the last five minutes of class for me? My hearing was acting up and I kind of missed the end of the lecture. I would just ask for the notes but I'm not the best at Chem and an explanation would be handy.”

“Why don’t you ask one of these fuckers?” Bakugo ground out, but already his shoulders started to loosen as the four quieted.

“They’re idiots,” Kyoka said bluntly, “no offence. And the people who are good at this shit are either condescending, speak in riddles, nervous wrecks or Iida and who wants to deal with that?”

“Fine, long as it’s quick,” Bakugo grumbled.

“Oh, boo. Fine, you do your dumb boring study stuff. Come on guys let's go!” Ashido cheered, “We’ll see you in the lunch room Blasty!”

Kyoka raised her pointer finger to tell Bakugo to wait as he went to say something. Then watched the group of four leave the room and close the door, ignoring the way Aoyama looked at her with a twinkle in his eye as if he’d caught on to her devious plot. She stretched her senses with the Soundtrack out a little to confirm they’d moved out of earshot and wouldn’t spot her or Bakugo if they left now.

“Wanna have lunch with me and Koda?” she asked, her eyes unable to look away from Aoyama until he’d turned away first. “We eat outside, no one bugs us and it’s quiet because we want it quiet.”

“Your hearing didn’t act up,” Bakugo stated rather than asking. Kyoka turned back to look at him, the sly grin on her face was the only answer he needed. Looking at him one on one for the first time Kyoka noted how his face naturally rested in a shuttered grimace that was easily mistaken for aggravation and, from her angle looking down at him, she could also make out the slight discolouration in his ear and rigid plastic lines that denoted an ITC hearing aid.

“Nah.” Kyoka’s expression turned smug as she held up the notebook in her hand for him to see. “This isn’t even the right notebook. If it makes you feel any better if I did need help figuring out Chem I would ask you.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow at her and Kyoka grinned, using the hand holding the notebook to point at the palm of her empty hand. “Nitroglycerin.”

Bakugo let out something that sounded like a cross between a snort and a huff, shifting his head up in something akin to a gesture of acknowledgement before pointing out, “They’ll notice me as soon as we walk into the cafeteria to grab our meal. Racoon Eyes may lack awareness but she’s stubborn when it comes to getting what she wants.”

“Good thing we won’t have to go to the cafeteria. I had Koda pick up three lunches on his way out. C’mon, you won’t even have to make up an excuse later if you just tell them to fuck off and if they ask me I'll just say I asked you to show me that move you pulled during training.”

Bakugo paused, maybe thinking it over, waiting for something, it was hard to tell with his theme, before agreeing. “Fine.”

Kyoka gave Aoyama a smile and a wave as she walked out of the classroom with Bakugo following behind her, his hands stuffed in his pocket and posture slouched. The unnatural smile was stiffly plastered on his face as they passed and he gave her a slight nod in return.

“I hope you don’t mind sign,” Kyoka hummed as they made their way downstairs and into the gardens, “I keep my noise cancelling on for a quiet time and Koda prefers speaking in it anyway.”

“Hah. Knew I recognised those gestures you threw at the cockatoo the other day. Don’t give a shit, not the best at it but the less I have to talk to you extras the better.”

Kyoka brushed off the insult and scoffed, “You’d be the first. And I don’t want to talk to you either shithead, you just needed an out before you blasted one of their faces off on accident and got in trouble. After what happened yesterday you need to lay low.”

Bakugo grunted, and for a second Kyoka thought she’d let her attitude go a step too far when his theme in the Soundtrack lightened. The Soundtrack’s way of signalling to her that she’d made the right move. When they got to the clearing Koda had set out the table cloth Kyoka had given him, blue and white stripes stretching out over green blades of grass, and had already dug into his lunch box, the other two boxes set, still closed, on the edges of the blanket perpendicular to him. Some of the cats that frequented the area had migrated from their shade to curl up on the blanket and Koda was chittering pleasantly every couple bites with a pigeon perched on his shoulder. He turned to look up at them when he heard them approaching, going tense as he eyed Bakugo like a startled prey animal.

“Keep the critters away from me and we’ll be fine,” Bakugo said, voice rough but consciously low as he took a seat on the edge of the blanket opposite Koda rather than where he’d left the boxes out. Bakugo turned his palms to the sky and let off a spark before, letting his hands touch the grass so he could lean back on them and stretch out. Koda nodded rapidly, relaxing at the soft tones of Bakugo’s voice. Kyoka reached for the lunch box closest to her when Koda stopped her by rapidly waving his hands in front of her, he pointed at the box and then at Bakugo.

“Likes food spicy,” he signed. Kyoka picked up the box and handed it over to Bakugo as she walked around him on the way to the other side of the cloth. Bakugo leaned forward again as he took the box, following her movement around him until she sat between him and Koda where the final lunch box had been placed.

“That one’s yours. Apparently, it’s extra spicy just for you,” Kyoka said, opening her box of food to eat, her headphones over her ears but not turning them on. She lets the Soundtrack wash over her, Bakugo and Koda's themes coming together surprisingly well but not in the way Kyoka would have expected. Instead of Bakugo’s tempo slowing down to match Koda’s chill vibes or switching to a lo-fi favoured rhythm Bakugo’s tempo stayed the same blood-pumping pace but the traditional rock drum set was switched out for a couple of African djembes and the base was dropped entirely. In the face of that Koda’s theme lived up to Kyoka’s broad categorisation of it as general lo-fi by adjusting the sound quality of the drums so that it felt like it was recorded from an old phone camera and the drummers weren’t miked. There were also sounds of soft cheering and laughing, the occasional brave souls clapping along and the sounds of feet beating on wood thrown in to complete that unproduced feel characteristic of lo-fi.

They managed to spend most of the lunch period in peace and quiet until a blaring alarm rang over the campus, Kyoka winced and slowly looked up from her notebook but otherwise didn’t react. Bakugo reacted similarly as he raised himself into an upright position from how he’d been lounging in the grass.

“Yeah, I can hear it,” Kyoka said as Koda reached over to tap her, assuming she’d had her noise cancelling on. “Give me a sec' to see if I can figure it out, okay?”

Now she activated the noise cancelling, pushing past the rising anxiety in Koda’s lo-fi theme and the soothing heartbeat flutter of Bakugo’s theme that he was relaxed to probe the Soundtrack for the source of the alarm. She snaked one of her jacks into the ground and pushed her heartbeat into it to get a sonic picture too. Both lead her to the media, bursting through the school’s front gates, punctuated by Mr Aizawa’s corrupt hero’s theme and even Present Mic’s radio beat theme turning angry and exasperated. And if she pushed just a little more she could hear an undertone of poorly composed, ear-splitting chiptune that pulled her out of her focused state before she could probe deeper.

“It’s just the press,” Kyoka said, pulling her headphones off, “Mr Aizawa’s cleaning things up.”

Bakugo nodded in acknowledgement while Koda sighed in relief, a hand over his heart. Kyoka stood up, brushing the dirt and bits of food from the front and back of her skirt. That broken chiptune was still eating away at her in the back of her mind and she couldn’t tell if the Soundtrack was still playing it or if it was just an echo of her imagination. There was something off about it, something important and the way the piece was composed made it sound like there was a third party lurking through the school under the cover of the media to get by under the teacher’s noses. Even if it was nothing, Kyoka decided it wouldn’t hurt to warn them.

“Lunch is almost over anyway, so we should probably pack up and start heading back now.” she stooped over to grab her lunch box before grabbing Koda’s from his extended hand and gesturing for Bakugo to give her his. “Do you mind packing the blanket while I take these back to the lunch room?”

“I can take this back myself you know?” Bakugo said lowly, raising a finely preened eyebrow.

“I know, but this is how Koda and I do it. We take turns grabbing lunch and bringing it back. Yesterday I got lunch, and today I'm taking the boxes back. Besides, this way dum, dumb, dumber and dumbest won’t have any chance of seeing you until we get back into class because the emergency meeting point is on the other side of the building.”

Bakukgo tilted his head in acquiescence, handing Kyoka his lunch box before standing up. He sparked his hands again before patting down his pants to get rid of any dirt or crumbs. Kyoka stepped over the blanket before Koda could start folding it and headed towards the edge of the glade before she stepped back through the bushes and onto the main path though she turned back to look at Bakugo.

“Hey, Bakugo?” he turned sharply to look at her with a light frown on his brow. Kyoka’s own eyes darted to her peripheral vision before locking back on him. “We should do this again sometime. I could always use some help with some schoolwork or you could teach me hand-to-hand. It’s not my thing and you’re not half bad when you aren’t running around like a bull in a china shop.”

Bakugo slowly looked over to Koda who beamed and gave him a thumbs-up as he bundled the blanket in his arms. Bakugo nodded, “Tomorrow, I'll kick your ass. And since I'm a gentleman about it I'll treat you to lunch too.”

Kyoka nodded, then rushed off back to the main building to the cafeteria, hoping to run into one of the teachers on the way without any other students around. When she got to the cafeteria Lunch Rush wasn’t at the counter like he usually was to hand them off to so she placed them in the return window with the other plates and bowls. As she was leaving the cafeteria though she heard a familiar theme full of American bluster approaching from a side room down the hall, All Might. Kyoka's pace hastened, but when she left the doorway of the cafeteria what she saw wasn’t the hulking imposing figure of All Might but a skinny bedraggled skeleton in a slightly loose but familiar pinstripe yellow suit. Part of her didn’t want to believe it, but the Soundtrack had never lied to her before and that suit was too much of a monstrosity to be made twice, much less both be on U.A grounds. So that meant this man had to be All Might.

“Oh, sorry sir. I didn’t expect to run into someone,” Kyoka said, taking a step back. She blinked innocuously, “But, ah, I don’t think I've ever seen you around here before.”

“It’s quite alright young K-. Young one, I'm not one of the heroes, after all, it’s part of my job description to go unnoticed and not be missed. I'm Yagi Toshinori, All Might’s personal assistant. For when he cannot be present to manage things at the school himself.”

“Like the media clamouring for his attention,” Kyoka nodded innocently. Yagi choked on his spit and started coughing off to the side, a small amount of blood coming away on his hand.

“E-exactly. Um, pardon my asking but why are you here? I thought the students had evacuated outside after the alarm went off.”

“Oh, I was already outside when the alarms went off. It's too loud for me to eat in here comfortably, even with my headphones on. But when the alarm went off I saw a figure through the windows that I didn't recognise. I thought, with the alarm and all, that someone might have broken into the school so I came here to find a teacher, though I might have just seen you, sorry.”

“No, don't be. Caution and awareness are great traits for a hero to have, sometimes one’s gut instinct can save your life in the field. Or so I've been told anyway. For now, I believe you should head off to class,” Yagi said, trying to put on an air of authority despite his nervousness. Kyoka nodded and hurried off absently thinking that the Soundtrack exposing a massive, state-disrupting secret should not have been as normal as it was.

Chapter Text

As Mr Aizawa explained they would be going to a different area of the campus for this foundational heroics class Kyoka could feel the headache buzzing behind her eyes trying to evolve into a migraine. Something she was only preventing through sheer force of will. It had been like this since the night before, ominous music laden with tension filled the Soundtrack, making her sleep fitfully and leaving her feeling unrested in the morning. That same ominous wind followed her throughout the school day, buried under the themes of the rest of her classmates but building in prominence the longer the day went on. And now that they were getting ready for their last class it was demanding attention.

As opposed to their first heroics class, this time Kyoka had been one of the first girls to finish changing, pocketing her standard music player to see if she could figure out the Bluetooth and music synchronisation to her combat headset on the bus. As soon as she had everything, Kyoka fled the changing rooms for their meeting point, ignoring Hagakure who was already ready but waiting for the others. Mr Aizawa was waiting at the buses along with Ojiro and Kaminari, who were the first of the boys to finish getting ready. On Ojiro’s part, it was probably because he was used to getting changed into a gi quickly and Kaminari was like her in that he designed his hero costume to be a casual outfit too. Kyoka gave them both a polite wave as she passed but walked straight up to Mr Aizawa, who looked down at her with a questioning glance from where he was pretending to not observe impassively. Kyoka made a show of looking at the slip of paper in her hand and using her headphones' touch dial to adjust the frequency they were tuned to before slipping them onto her head.

“Sir, you have a radio, right? Could you help me run a test on my headphones? I have a question about how the radio communication aspect works and there isn’t a follow-up in the information I've been provided,” Kyoka explained, unclipping the headphones' manual controller from its place at her side.

“What do you want to test?” Mr Aizawa sighed, lazily slipping a hand into a hidden pocket in his suit to retrieve a radio earpiece and slip it into his ear.

“The microphone and speaker units in the headphones and controller. I know that the headphones have a speaker unit and the controller has a microphone unit because I specked them that way but I'm wondering if the headphones have a microphone too and the controller has a speaker unit too. If they don't then I would have to put the controller to my mouth if I want to speak to somebody and I wouldn't be able to hear anybody if my headset came off for whatever reason. The headphones thing is just inconvenient and I'd put in a request to change that, but with the controller, I just think it would be nice to have a backup on hand, just in case.”

“And what do you want me to do?” Kyoka turned the controller off, pulling the strap over her head and holding the controller out for Mr Aizawa to take.

“I’m going to go over there.” Kyoka gestured to where the boys were milling about. “And speak. You tell me through your radio if you can hear me or not.”

Mr Aizawa nodded and Kyoka walked over to Ojiro and Kaminari, she gave them another wave, placing a hand on the outside of her headset to make it clear she was speaking to it before saying, “Testing, testing one two three.”

“Yeah, I read you."

“That’s great, thank you, sir. Can you put your radio away and turn the controller I gave you on for me?” Kyoka watches Mr Aizawa do as she’s instructed and speaks to the controller.

“What now?”

“Now I want to see if you can still hear me.”

“Yep, you’re coming in clear.”

“Thank you, sir.” Kyoka pulled the headphones down from over her ears and jogged back to Mr Aizawa, taking the controller from him and flinging the strap back over her shoulder, the controller coming to rest on her hip. By now most of the class had arrived, and all of the girls were approaching the buses as a pack, only splitting up now that they’d reached their destination. Most of the boys are present too with the only people missing being Aoyama and Iida, which was probably because of the literal plate armour they had to put on. But they arrived moments later, Iida blowing a piercing whistle to announce his presence and shout for the class to organise themselves loud enough that Kyoka's first instinct was to slam her hands over the side of her headphones. The headache was insisting on becoming a migraine and Kyoka squeezed her eyes shut as her hands subconsciously tried to crush her headphones against her skull. Mr Aizawa’s eyes twitched as he saw Kyoka flinch.

“Iida,” he called lazily. Iida shot up ramrod straight and turned to face Mr Aizawa.

“Yes sir!”

“Some of your classmates have very sensitive hearing,” he said, gesturing to Kyoka between the two of them who was slowly crumbling in on herself. “please keep that in mind and be more considerate. Oh, and the bus is open plan so loading like that isn’t going to work.”

Iida faltered and crumbled as he watched Shota shepherd Jiro onto the bus and into the closest seat. He tried to gently coax one of her hands away from her head so he could activate the noise cancelling on her headphones but found that her grip was too strong for him to do anything without yanking so he reached for the controller at her hip to do it manually. Instantly Jiro began to relax. She opened their eyes so that they were half hooded and her hands were resting gently on the muffs instead of trying to crush them into the sides of her head. Shota was about to say something to her when the sound of boots on metal caught his attention and he snapped around to the door, quirk activated and glaring with harsh scolding words ready on his lips. Stepping on the bus behind him was Bakugo and behind Bakugo was Koda who hadn’t stepped onto the bus but whose head was poking in from the doorway. Bakugo continued approaching, completely ignoring Shota’s stare in favour of catching Jiro’s attention. Shota was about to tell him to keep his volume down before Bakugo made things worse but the blonde surprised him by defaulting to a lower tone as he waved a hand below his knees within Kyoka’s line of sight.

“Yo, Ears.” When Jiro looked up at his face Bakugo surprised Shota even further by signing while he spoke, “You good?”

“Yeah. Just a headache I’ve been stalling.” She looked around him to Koda and gave him a shaky smile. Shota found himself stepping back as Bakugo huffed and pushed past him, helping Jiro move further into the bus to the first set of seats facing the front. Bakugo sat by the window taking his massive gauntlets off and placing them on the floor in front of him so that they were pinned between the barrier and his legs. Then, Jiro dropped down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder which he allowed, though he stiffened at the contact, while she pulled the controller from around her and a music player from her pocket and began fiddling with them. Koda had seemingly determined that Shota wasn’t going to do anything and he stampeded into the bus. He darted past the intimidating teacher to grab a seat behind the pair. Once he was settled the three of them began muttering under their breaths between each other, Bakugo eventually snatching both devices off of Kyoka before promptly passing them off to Koda. Jiro pouted but followed suit by passing a folded piece of paper to Koda before muttering something back to Bakugo and closing her eyes. Bakugo tensed again, eyes snapping back to Mr Aizawa looking like a deer in headlights. Then his eyes narrowed as if daring the teacher to say anything. Mr Aizawa gave a long-suffering sigh and turned around to leave the bus and get the other students on board. Bakugo’s head turned away sharply to stare blankly out of the window as the other students tried their best to get on quietly. Iida was the last to get on and immediately began to approach Jiro to apologise, completely missing the fact that she was trying to rest, but was cowed into backing away when Bakugo’s head snapped to glare at him a literal growl emanating lowly from his chest that only Koda, Kyoka and Shoji were able to hear. Kyoka elbowed Bakugo lightly, eyes still closed.

“Be nice,” she muttered. Bakugo huffed and turned back to the window as the bus started moving.

“This isn’t the first time he’s made an ass of himself about you,” Bakugo snapped back, “I don't have to be nice if he doesn’t learn.”

“He’s right,” Koda whispered, his voice filtering into his ears through her headphones.

“I, the playlists are sorted. I mean, I think they are, that is. If you want to play music?”

Kyoka extended her jacks back to Koda, one twisting past Todoroki who was also trying to nap and grabbed both devices. the jack holding the heavier circular she brought in front of her, dropping the controller into her lap before she swung the sash over her shoulder. The jack holding the lighter one with square edges tucked the device into one of her many pockets.

The first few minutes of the ride were spent in a terse silence, most wary of setting Kyoka off again by even trying to speak, especially with Bakugo watching over her like a guard dog. But eventually, a low chatter started up around the bus. Those on the longitudinal benches closer to the front of the bus began talking about their quirks and how good they were for being appealing and powerful pro heroes. Kyoka tuned most of the conversation out, grasping onto the reliable beat and soothing bass of Bakugo’s theme to settle her headache and take the edge off of the orchestral nightmare that was pounding away in her head and getting louder the closer they got to their training ground of the day.

“Well if any one of our classmates have pro quirks it’s Todoroki and Bakugo,'' Kirishima declared, voice distinct and loud enough at the moment to catch her attention. Bakugo tsked partly dismissive and partly disbelieving at the comment, his eyes darting briefly to catch Kirishima’s bright gaze before slipping back to the window.

“Sure but Bakugo’s always angry so he’ll never be that popular,” Tsu stated bluntly. Bakugo tensed beneath Kyoka, a low growl beginning in his throat and Kyoka purposefully shifted, cutting off his growl and stopping him from doing whatever he was going to do next. Bakugo settled back into his seat.

“You’re terrible,” he hissed.

“And you shouldn’t prove her right,” Kyoka murmured, moving her lips as little as possible.

“I don’t like it when people fucking insult me for something I can’t fucking control,” Bakugo grumbled louder than he meant to. Everyone on the longitudinal benches turned to look at Bakugo surprised at the outburst, Midoriya included. Bakugo rolled his eyes while throwing his head to the side. “Look, it’s biology shit you don’t need to know the fucking science behind it. All you gotta know is that nitroglycerin has physiological side effects. Got that shit? Ears gets sensory overload easily when overstimulated, Deku breaks his fucking bones, Prince Charming over there gets shitty ass stomach aches and I'm a raging asshole. Life’s not fucking fair, now get fucked.”

Kyoka opened her eyes just in time to see Bakugo flip their classmates the bird with a sneer on his face as she pulled herself into an upright position and the bus slowed to a stop.

“Hey, we’re here, stop messing around.”

“Yes sir.”

Chapter Text

Class 1A filed into the building and met their mystery supervisor, 13. 13 explained that today they would be working in the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, or the USJ as they called it, that was built specifically to test and train in different types of disaster zones. 13’s purpose as their instruction was to remind and show them how deadly their quirks could be and how to rein them back. Then, the ominous orchestra that the Soundtrack had sheepishly muted after Iida had overwhelmed Kyoka came back at its zenith. Kyoka examined the USJ behind her teachers before her eyes settled on the plaza below them as the source of the theme.

“Sir, there’s something wrong in the plaza!” she called, interrupting 13’s speech on safety guidelines and hoping that luck was on her side. The teachers hesitated for a moment before turning around to look at the empty plaza just as a vortex of purple-black mist ripped open in front of the fountain. Kyoka shifted into a defensive stance as her teachers tensed.

“Stay together and don’t move,” Mr Aizawa barked as golden eyes burst forth from the vortex with a wall of mist-like crackling flame. “13, protect the students. Kaminari, Jiro, see if you can contact the main campus.”

Kyoka quickly reached her hand to her headphones and muttered a call for help under her breath, but only received static in return. The alarms weren’t going off either and when she turned to Kaminari he shook his head, no dice. Villains streamed out of the portal and spread themselves out between the stairs and the plaza.

“Maybe if we kill a few kids he’ll come out to play,” the man in the centre declared, severed hands littering his body as decoration. Mr Aizawa’s scarf unfurled defensively like a cat’s hair standing on end.

“Sir, we got nothing,” Kyoka called.

“Alright. 13 get the students out of here,” Mr Aizawa ordered. His colleague nodded, turning around and beginning to shepherd the students back towards the entrance.

“What are you going to do? Your quirk isn’t suited for fighting large groups like this!” Midoriya called his noble heart making him resist the call to retreat in concern for his teacher’s safety.

“You can’t be a pro if you’re a one-trick pony.” Mr Aizawa jumped down the stairs and into the fray. Iida doubled back to drag Midoriya along. The class had nearly reached the door when the Soundtrack brought a minor piano melody to Kyoka’s attention.

“13!" she called ahead of her, “portal incoming, look out!”

Again a swirling vortex formed over the patterned floor before those glowing eyes and an amorphous figure burst out of it stopping everyone in their tracks. Then, the villain started monologuing. Kyoka tried to listen but the Soundtrack directed her attention away by playing loudly over it. She reluctantly turned on the noise cancelling and scanned the area around her. What she heard was the beeping of a dial tone like the pushing of buttons and she glanced down at her controller, the only thing she thought could fit the bill. Kyoka took it in hand, slipping the sash free of her body and the Soundtrack chirped affirmatively. She warped the sash around the controller as the Soundtrack then began playing a stiff, but uncorrupt chiptune that had Kyoka turning to Iida. Meanwhile, Bakugo and Kirishima decided to launch themselves at the villain, the resulting attack clouding the area in smoke. Kyoka could just about make out the silhouette of the class rep by the reflection of light off his glasses thanks to his proximity to Aoyama.

“Iida,” she called, pausing a moment so that he could pinpoint the direction that her voice was coming from before throwing the controller at him, “catch!”

“You two get out of the way right now!” 13 said, and Kyoka didn’t have time to see if Iida caught the device or not before the villain was wrapping them in a swirling dome of shadow. When the light returned Kyoka found herself falling out of the sky towards an area of barren craggy rocks and just managed to tuck and roll on impact with the ground. There were two more heavy landings behind her and Kyoka turned to find Kaminari, who’d managed to land on his ass, and Yaoyorozu, who’d landed on her feet, behind her. Kaminari got to his feet quickly and the three barely had a moment to catch their breath before they were surrounded by villains. The three students moved quickly so that they were almost back to back with each other. Yaoyorozu’s skin glittered red as she created a staff in her hands and passed Kyoka a sword from her leg. This was going to be a long day. Kyoka’s eyes drifted briefly to her empty hip, she just hoped the Soundtrack knew what it was doing.

“Shoji, anything?” Tenya asked tersely, gaze locked on the villain in front of him as his hands clenched around the device Jiro had given him.

They’re scattered around the USJ but they’re okay for now,” Shoji reported and the group breathed a sigh of relief. Tenya’s grip loosened and he finally looked at the support item in his hand still wrapped in the white ribbon that kept it in place at his classmate’s side.

“What is this, and why did you give it to me Jiro?”

“It’s the control unit for her headphones,” 13 informed him, after sparing the boy a brief glance, “it is also a communicator.

“Class rep, I have a job for you. Run towards the school and use that communicator to tell the faculty what’s going on. If it has been calibrated correctly it should automatically reach them as soon as you leave the area that the frequency jammer is affecting.”

“But-”

“It’ll be faster for you to run and get help than for us to find who’s doing this. Honour the choices your classmate made by entrusting you with that device, be a real hero and use it and your quirk to save others.” 13 advanced, flanked by Sato, Sero and Shoji. Uraraka came up to Tenya, holding out her hand.

“We’ll do it just like we did in the cafeteria, right?”

Tenya’s resolve hardened and he nodded, “Right. I'm ready when you are.”

Tenya got into a sprinting position and prepped his engines as Uraraka tapped him with her quirk and Sato kept him grounded until they were ready to launch. The amorphous figure flew forward and 13 began sucking him up with their quirk.

“Now!” Sato let go and Iida launched his engine, sending him flying up and over the portal-making villain. Once he’d cleared the villain, Uraraka released her quirk allowing him to land and begin running.

“No!” The villain's reverberating tone shouted and he opened a warp gate behind 13, freeing him from their grasp as the back of their suit tore apart and they fell to the ground.

“13!” Ashido shrieked. Iida didn’t dare look behind him, hand clenching around Jiro’s communicator, holding on to hope. Behind him, Uraraka spotted a neck brace hidden in the smoke and tapped it with her quirk before throwing whatever she was holding into the air. Tenya began to pry the door open. Sero grabbed the brace with his tape, and Sato grabbed the tape to swing the villain in the other direction as Iida passed the building’s threshold. He ran as fast as he could, pulling Jiro’s communicator up to his mouth and shouting into it for help as he went.

Chapter Text

“Looks like we’re between a rock and a hard place,” Kaminari quipped as he, Kyoka and Yaoyorozu backed away from the villains, a mountain wall behind them.

“Seriously Kaminari?” Kyoka asked the sword she’d been given brandished at the villains in front of them.

“It’s how I cope!” Kaminari yelped, dodging an attack. “And why didn’t I get a weapon!”

“Because your quirk already has offensive capabilities and I need to save lipids,” Yaoyorozu snapped back. “Your electrocution powers should suffice.”

“If I did that I'd take you out too and if I shocked people individually I'd drain my wattage way too quickly,” Kaminari argued, dodging another incoming strike by ducking behind Kyoka who rushed forward to counter with a slash that had the villain jumping out of their range and his.

“Can you modify the amplitude or voltage of your output?” Yaoyorozu asked.

“Volts are a piece of cake but amps I'd rather not mess with, it’s too easy to go too high without knowing and kill anybody I touch.” That seemed to give the villains a moment of pause as they were strategizing rather loudly while very thoroughly surrounded. Some of the melee-focused ones backed out of range and most seemed to switch their focus to Yaoyorozu who they’d separated from the other two, though she was keeping them at a distance just fine with her staff.

“Then turn the volts down to stun gun level, idiot. The amount of watts you use is just volts times amps,” Kyoka reminded him, plugging her jacks into her speaker boots and positioning one leg in the direction of the villains facing Yaoyorozu and the other in the direction of the villains in front of her and Kaminari. Kaminari perked up at the suggestion, electricity crackling experimentally in his hand. When he seemed to have gotten it down he darted off to Kyoka’s side, ducked under a large villain’s punch and slapped his sides with an electric shock. The villain spasmed before falling to the floor and convulsing on the ground, it would be temporary compared to his usual incapacitation output, but it would keep him in the fight for longer.

“Why didn’t you ask for aiming gear when you put in your costume request form?” Yaoyorozu argued, jumping back so that she was at Kyoka’s side. Kyoka then blasted her heartbeat through her speakers, dropping villains in the directions her boots were pointing. “Like that!”

“Do you not know how lightning works?” Kaminari shouted back, sidestepping a lunging villain and zapping them with his quirk by nudging their fallen body with his foot. “It wants to be grounded and will take the easiest possible route there. If I tried to shoot lightning out of my hands it wouldn’t even spark and fall to the floor, it would just use my own body as a conductor and travel down into the ground through it. I can’t reproduce ionised gas Yaoyorozu and I'd need to be above my opponent for that to work anyway! This is real life, I'm not bloody Pikachu!”

The Soundtrack sounded a warning from above and Kyoka sidestepped out of the way, a double-hand axe-wielding villain crashing into the spot she just left. Yaoyorozu came up behind him and slammed him away with her staff as if it was a bat, Kaminari shocking him briefly as the villain flew past him.

“It’s ready,” Yaoyorozu grunted, a glow emanating from her back, an insulated blanket bursting out of it and tearing up her costume before landing on top of her and Kyoka. “Kaminari, it's all yours!”

“Badass!” Kaminari crouched down to the ground, electricity crackling around his hands before he pushed it down and out into the area around them, “let’s turn up the heat. One point three million volts!”

“You know if you were going to be doing stuff like that it might have been better to design your costume with an exposed back instead of an exposed front,” Kyoka deadpanned though Yaoyorozu seemed unbothered by her bare chest. The smell of fried human flesh, or charred pork, filled her nose and the thuds of bodies falling soon followed. Kyoka pulled up the edge of the blanket making sure to position Yaoyorozu behind her to protect her modesty if someone was looking in their direction, beyond it she could see the fallen villains with bodies still steaming. “Damn Kaminari, what amps are you running at to do that at base?”

“Forty milliamps and it was a struggle to reach even that,” Kaminari replied, wiping away blood from under his nose. Kyoka slipped out from under the blanket to let Yaoyorozu fix her costume up under better cover.

“Why do I get the feeling that it was a struggle to lower it, not raise it?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. Kaminari gave her a nervous chuckle in response. “You good?”

Kaminari sparked experimentally again before clenching his fist. “I think I have about half of my battery left so I'm not bad actually. Usually, something like that drains me completely.”

Suddenly the Soundtrack blared a warning in a similar vein to the musical sting used in horror films when a corpse’s hand dramatically breaks out of its grave. Kyoka spun around to face the source of the sting where a hand had indeed broken out of the ground, her jacks immediately slamming back into her speaker boots and blasting the guy with her heartbeat’s sound waves as soon as his head came out of the ground.

“Good catch,” Kaminari said nervously, he was taken a bit off guard by her quick reaction. Yaoyorozo came out from under the blanket discarding it on the ground and turned to see what Kyoka and Kaminari were looking at. There she saw a man that was stuck half buried in stone, slightly delirious with a thin trail of blood trickling down from his ears and decided not to question it. There was a large bang from the plaza and the trio looked over to see telltale signs of a battle raging just out of sight.

“Wow, I wonder what’s going on over there?” Kaminari asked, rising to his toes to futilely try and get a better look. Kyoka plugged a jack into the ground unnecessarily and shifted her focus in the Soundtrack away from her.

“All Might just arrived and he’s fighting the main guys,” Kyoka summarised, while a specific set of themes wasn’t playing in the Soundtrack the boss fight music and All Might’s musical ‘I am here’ was a dead giveaway.

“Then I believe our best course of action is to head back to the entrance.”

“Right!”

“You could have worded that better, but sure.”

Kyoka led them down the mountain zone, using her quirk and the Soundtrack to avoid any villains lurking around the lower areas of the zone. They soon reached the edge of the zone without fanfare but Kyoka stopped from moving further with an outstretched hand as U.A’s theme began to crescendo in the Soundtrack before reaching its triumph in time with the teachers blowing the front door of the USJ off of its hinges. Iida was leading the charge, but his chiptune was absent from the ensemble, U.A’s combined identity taking precedence in this situation.

“They made it!” Kaminari cheered as the teachers made their way down the stairs. Snipe fired shots in all directions, taking out any villains that were still standing in the various zones. Momo let out a breath, hand over her heart.

“Think we should stay put or head to the exit?” Kyoka asked.

“I-. we should probably stay here so we can inform the teachers about what to expect in the zone,” Yaoyorozu reasoned. Still wasn’t the best way to word it but Kyoka felt that the other girl was at least trying after the comment she had made earlier. Kaminari turned to Kyoka. She shrugged in response before collapsing to the floor and laying back on the ground, arms bracketed behind her head and noise cancelling activating.

“That’s great, I could use a break,” she said, closing her eyes and missing the incredulous look Yaoyorozu was shooting her. Kaminari shrugged at the rich girl before joining Kyoka on the ground, criss-cross applesauce, hands fidgeting absently. “It’s been a long day.”

Eventually, one of Ectoplasm’s clones that were sent out to canvas the zones approached them to escort them back to the entrance. He checked them over for injuries but after determining that they were unharmed and just tired he got them all walking, avoiding the damage in the plaza because of Mr Aizawa and All Might’s fighting. On the walk back Yaoyorozu kept pace with the clone, giving their maths teacher a brief report of what happened and what to expect in the zone while Kyoka and Kaminari trailed behind them. Kaminari tapped her on the shoulder and she pulled down her headphones.

“Hey, Jiro?”

“Kyoka,” Kyoka interrupted with a cock of her head and an uneven smile.

“Wha?”

“We just survived a life-or-death experience together, if that doesn’t give you the right to call me by my first name I don’t know what does.” Kyoka turned her head to Yaoyorozu, who she knew was listening to how her body was angled as she walked. “That goes for you too Princess.”

Yaoyorozu quickly turned away a faint blush dusting her cheeks.

Kaminari whistled, “Damn that was smooth, and you called me out for flirting during our first hero class.”

“Yeah, because you sucked at it,” Kyoka huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “And there’s a time and place for everything. Besides, you cope your way and I cope mine.”

“Does that mean you’ll flirt with everyone?” Kaminari asked conspiratorially, side-eyeing Yaoyorozu who was definitely still paying attention as he played along, “or just the pretty ones?”

Ectoplasm’s clone swallowed a chuckle-turned cough that told them both that Yaoyorozu was getting even more embarrassed though their attention was still on one another. Then, Kyoka decided to pull the rug out from Kaminari by turning the tables on him. She shrugged.

“I’ll flirt with anyone I think is pretty punk rock, Sparky,” she replied with a mischievous wink, this time it was Kaminari's turn to go red as he sputtered over his words taken completely off guard when his own ‘game’ was turned back on him.

“I believe you’ve gotten away from the original point you wanted to make, '' Yaoyorozu said with a cough as she tried to regain her composure, revealing her eavesdropping because she was desperate to change the direction of the conversation.

“R-right,” Kaminari agreed readily, “Thank you, the volt thing back there was helpful.”

“It’s cool. I'm just surprised you hadn’t thought of it before.”

“Yeah, I know I'm a dunce,” Kaminari whined, wilting. “Numbers really don’t agree with me. Uh, no offence sir.”

“No way Denks,” Kyoka denied. “Remember after the battle trials? You were talking my ear off about classical lit and drama, heck you quoted it and that off-the-cuff analysis was rockin’.”

Kaminari shorted, sparks discharging around his head and flashing in his eyes. Kyoka winced apologetically. “Too far?”

“A bit, yeah. But it’s been a rough day and you were operating on a headache before we even got here so I'm gonna wipe it from my memory.” His voice squeaked. “Besides, that’s all pretty niche and not very practical.”

“It’s still impressive. Besides, do you think that my ridiculous archive of music both in terms of pieces and history or my ability to analyse the effects and implications behind cinematic Soundtracks on the stories being told is in any way practical beyond giving music recommendations? What about that other than ‘music’ says ‘not niche’? Just because Yaoyorozu’s innate knowledge of atomic structure is useful more often than not because it relates to her quirk doesn’t make it any more impressive than what you’ve got rattling around in your head.

“But seriously Kaminari, just because formulas and maths throw you off doesn’t mean you're an idiot.”

“Thanks.”

They crossed the threshold out of the USJ to find around a dozen police units parked outside of the building, officers canvassed the areas as others took the lesser criminals from the UA staff and led them to containment cars and cruisers. The Ectoplasm clone led them off to the side to a plain man dressed in a tan coat wearing a matching fedora.

“Detective Tsukauchi, I have three more for you,” he said before turning back to the trio of students, “Stay with the detective until he’s cleared you to leave okay?”

“Yes sir.”

“Great, if you three could just wait over here with the others? We’re not going to be taking your statements today because we understand it’s been a pretty long day. We just don’t want anyone wandering off until we get a full headcount. I just need to hear back from one more zone and then you’ll probably be free to go.” The detective gestured over to where the rest of their classmates were waiting and chatting amongst themselves, the Soundtrack told Kyoka that everyone was present except for Midoriya. Kyoka, Yaoyorozu and Kaminari split up then. Kaminari and Yaoyorozu made their way to their respective cliques while Kyoka wandered between everyone so that she could check in on Bakugo and Koda surreptitiously before escaping further away from the group. As she walked, chiptune filtered into the Soundtrack signalling Iida's intent to approach her.

“Jiro!” Iida marched up to her, stopped a few paces away and then bowed low and stiff at her. After a moment he straightened up, thrusting his arm out towards her and opening his hand to present her controller to her. “Thank you for entrusting this to me. Without it, I don't think I would have been able to get the pros here so quickly!”

Kyoka reached out and gingerly took the offered controller, slipping the ribbon free and slinging it over her shoulder. Over Iida's shoulder, she saw Bakugo watching them carefully, even as Kirishima pressed against him and Ashido, Sero and Kaminari buzzed around him. Iida bowed again.

“And I apologise for my actions earlier today. I, as your class rep, failed to consider your needs in my hasty desire to prove myself in this role Midoriya had so graciously given me.”

Kyoka’s eyes found Koda as she looked past Iida. Koda looked discreetly at Bakugo, who was indisposed, and then at Kyoka. He stepped away from his group, angling himself in a way that Bakugo and Kyoka could see him, as they were paying attention to him, but not anyone else. Then he slowly ran his thumb across his neck and cocked his head. Bakugo’s scowl became a feral grin. Kyoka stared at Koda and slowly shook her head, then she shifted to glare at Bakugo. He huffed but dropped it.

“We’re cool. I mean, not the first time you’ve done something like this.” Iida, impossibly, stiffened further. “But it’s not your fault I've been dealing with a killer headache all day. Thanks for getting help, class rep.”

Pretty soon after the last zone was cleared. The detective did a final headcount of the class. One of them asked how their injured teachers, and Midoriya, are doing and the detective gave them reassuring news before dismissing them.

Chapter Text

The next day was supposed to be a day off for the class to recuperate but Kyoka’s parents had gotten a call from Detective Tsukauchi asking for that interview they had postponed the day before. Her parents asked if she was okay to go down, especially since they wouldn’t be able to go down with her because of work. Her parents confirmed that there would be a U.A teacher present to advocate for her and Kyoka agreed.

When Kyoka walked into the precinct she was greeted by a familiar gentle lullaby. Looking around she spotted a woman wearing a sweater dress with her dark hair tied back in a ponytail chatting with the receptionist. Kyoka walked up to her, hands buried in her pockets.

“Hey Ms Kayama, are you here all day or just for me?” Ms Kayama jumped as she spun around to face Kyoka. Then her teacher pouted and Kyoka raised an eyebrow at her, “What’s wrong? Expecting someone with more youthful spirit?”

“Careful, I'm still your teacher missy. I was hoping to surprise someone by being here out of costume but instead, you surprised me,” she whined. Kyoka looked her up and down. The crewneck of her sweater dress was loose and could be pulled down a shoulder to hang off easily and show some side boob or pulled down to reveal the top of her breasts, though she was wearing a bra at least. The hem came down to the middle of her thigh and she wasn’t wearing any stockings or leggings underneath so at best there was a pair of shorts under there, at worst her lingerie and she would be able to raise the hem sexually to show off more. She was also wearing a pair of knee-high boots and while they weren’t the ‘step on me’ kind they made her look effortlessly sexy and those cat-eye frames weren’t helping.

“That outfit is not as conservative as you think it is,” Kyoka responded simply, “looks good though. Better than what you usually put on in front of children.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ms Kayama squawked.

“That if you weren’t a hero I would have reported you for paedophilia,” Kyoka deadpanned with a shrug. That and the motherly lullaby that comprised Ms Kayama’s theme didn’t fit with the personality she portrayed so Kyoka assumed it was an act for branding purposes. “Can we hurry up with this, I'm starting to get a headache?”

Which was true, the police precinct was an unfamiliar environment filled with a lot of unfamiliar themes. While she could latch onto Ms Kayama’s theme it would only do so much, especially with how soft it was.

“The paper?” Ms Kayama assumed. It was a valid guess but forced Kyoka to lie and play along.

“That and the tapping keyboards and the coffee maker that never seems to turn off.”

“Right well, you can head on down then,” the receptionist smiled, gesturing down a hall. “The detective should be here shortly, he was just visiting Eraserhead at the hospital on his way over.”

Ms Kayama placed a hand on the small of Kyoka’s back as she led her student to one of the interrogation rooms. It looked very stereotypical, dark plain walls with a one-way mirror on one side of the room and the metal table with basic chairs sat in its centre. Kyoka took a seat facing the glass, Ms Kayama sitting beside her as her advocate. Kyoka slipped her phone out of her pocket, plugging a jack into it as she scrolled through her text chains and updated feeds. Unconsciously Kyoka began to hum softly, her free hand drumming along on the table’s surface.

“I have to ask,” Ms Kayama said conversationally as if she was uncomfortable with the silence. “Why do you use a music player for your headphones, why not just use your phone.”

“Tech companies are against users changing the hardware or software of their devices. It was easier to make a custom music player than convince a company to allow me to put their phone software on an altered phone,” Kyoka explained and then her voice grew heated. “Besides, have you seen what they’ve been doing lately?”

“What?” Kyoka tapped the place where her jack met her phone.

“They’re getting rid of jack ports. This is an old model. Once it’s caput I'll have to switch.”

“Don’t you already use Bluetooth pairing for your headphones?”

“Yeah, for touch control capabilities. And because my teachers would accuse me of not paying attention if I had a jack in. There’s a reason you have to take the player away from me to speak past the noise cancelling.”

“How much did it cost?”

“Don’t know, my parents refused to tell me because I was so young but I know it was a lot. Even if our doctor managed to get it mostly covered by our health insurance.” Kyoka paused and cocked her head to the side. The Soundtrack plays the detective’s theme behind the door. “The detective’s here.”

The door opened and walked in. “I apologise for making you wait. Let’s get this interview started.”

“That’s impressive,” Ms Kayama mumbled, nudging Kyoka, “these rooms are soundproofed.”

Kyoka shuffled uncomfortably, putting her phone away and resting her elbows against the cold metal table. Tsukauchi took the seat on the opposite side of the table.

“To begin, both Eraserhead and 13 reported that you knew the villains were there before they had arrived, could you explain that please?”

“I heard them coming,” Kyoka replied, “or, well. I heard something strange down in the plaza and pointed it out.”

“You heard them with your quirk, correct?” Could she really consider the Soundtrack her quirk? It had nothing to do with her Earphone Jacks and Mr Aizawa’s quirk didn’t affect it. It seemed both sentient and almost omnipotent considering the things it told her. Sometimes she felt like it was some lonely entity latched on to her as the only one capable of hearing it, just to have a friend. The Soundtrack trilled as if reminding her to answer the question, pseudo-psychic too that was another thing. But in the end.

“Yes.” The Soundtrack trilled with a happy preen. This power was hers and, as far as they both knew, hers alone. So in a way, for all the headaches, it was her ‘quirk’. “I heard a distinct sound before the warp villain opened his portal, both when they arrived and later on during the incident.”

“Right, 13 had mentioned that too.” Jiro’s statement had rung true according to Naomasa’s quirk. But the way she’d worded it. “When you say ‘distinct’ do you mean you could identify the villain’s portals from others?”

“Well, I've never met another portal maker before. But the sounds I heard were ones I've never heard before and it was consistent every time he acted.”

Both statements were true. Tsukuachi nodded, making a note on his clipboard. He tapped his pen against it.

“Why did you give Iida your communicator?” Oh, yeah. That was another thing. The Soundtrack warning her or confirming her suspicions was old hat. But it giving her hints on what to do? That was new. Maybe it just didn’t want her dead.

“I don’t know. It just seemed like the thing I needed to do,” Kyoka said honestly, bringing a hand up to her ear so she could twirl her jacks around it. She hadn’t even known why the Soundtrack could have possibly wanted her to give the thing to Iida either. Not until after he came charging back with the teachers hot on his trail and realised that it was because of her. “We were getting split up so having another radio on the field would be a good idea. Except the jammer was still up. Feels a bit useless now that I think about it.”

“No way,” Ms Kayama interjected, her theme crooning around Kyoka as she pulled the girl into a side hug. “If you hadn’t made that decision then we might not have gotten there in time to save Shota.”

“Ectoplasm said he found you in the mountain zone. Could you tell me what happened there after you were separated?”

Kyoka nodded and dutifully recounted what happened in the mountain zone, leaving out most of the details about her conversation with Yaoyorozu and Kaminari. It was close to an hour before her interview was finished and she waved goodbye to her teacher and the detective as she walked out the precinct’s door.

Kayama licked her lips. “I wonder detective. Why her first?”

“You know how Eraserhead can be Midnight. He’s paranoid but he has good instincts and when a student can sound an alarm faster than pros, he got suspicious,” the detective replied, tipping his fedora, “he thought she was involved, or at least knew more than she let on.”

“And did she?”

“Not beyond what she told us and even that was benign. But you know Eraserhead, he’ll keep an eye on her.”

The pair lapsed into silence for a moment before Kayama hummed, “I wonder.”

Tsukauchi turned to look at her, which Kayama knew was his way of giving her permission to speak her mind. “Jiro’s hearing is incredible, she knew you were coming even from within a soundproofed room. And it’s clear that while she has noise-cancelling headphones to mitigate sensory overload when needed they can’t block out everything indefinitely. It makes me think, how much has she heard? What has she heard? How many secrets are there that she knows but refuses to tell?”

“A power like that could throw society into chaos or collapse it completely.”

“Yet here we stand. Shota has a right to be wary, but he also has to give her more credit.”

Chapter Text

All the class was talking about the next morning was the news coverage of the USJ.

“The news channels love us, we’re basically celebrities,” Kaminari grinned.

“Yeah, it’s kind of crazy right,” Kirishima grinned.

“Get over yourselves,” Kyoka scoffed, “they don’t care about us, they just care about the tea of U.A’s security failing. And you ever consider that some of us don’t want the attention.”

On some level, Kyoka was referring to Koda and his social anxiety, but if they took that to mean she wanted to go Underground, which she did, she wouldn’t correct them. Then, Iida burst into the classroom, it seemed like he was about to say something but stopped. Was he checking himself? His pause gave him a second to look around the room and see that everyone was seated so he simply walked to his seat without saying a word. Holy shit, he checked himself, Iida learnt something. Kyoka leaned back in her seat and sent Bakugo a smug grin, her hands doing happy tippy taps on the surface of her desk. He looked away, expression revealing nothing but the Soundtrack told her that he’d stop sending Iida death glares, at least for a little while. Ashido leaned back in her seat, almost tipping it over but Tsu pushed it back into place.

“Hey, Tsu, who do you think is going to teach class today?” she asked.

“No idea,” Tsu croaked back. Kaminari looked from them to Kyoka.

“Hey, Kyoka?”

“It’s Mr Aizawa,” Kyoka interrupted, his theme had already been in the building when she’d arrived and she’d heard it shuffle down the corridor after Iida. So it was a bit of a given. Just after the words left her mouth the door slid open and Mr Aizawa entered the room covered in bandages from head to toe.

“Sir! Is it really okay for you to be here?” Iida asked, shooting his hand up into the air.

“That's irrelevant. What’s important right now is that your fight isn’t over. The U.A. Sports Festival is coming up,” Mr Aizawa said.

“Is it really a good idea to have such an open public event so soon after the campus got infiltrated, twice?” Kyoka asked.

“The Sports Festival is a vital part of your careers as heroes and you only have three chances in a lifetime to make your mark, it can’t be missed,” Aizawa replied, shaking his head. “Besides, it gets higher ratings than the Olympics and is a major part of U.A’s funding.”

Kyoka grimaced before remembering something and raising her hand. “Yes, Jiro?”

“Where do we go if we want to request additions or changes to be made to our support gear and costumes?”

“Speak to Power Loader in the support department, you’ll find him in the labs more often than his office. Purely aesthetic changes go through Midnight. I'll tell them to expect you.

“Is that all?

“Class dismissed.”

At lunch Kyoka parted ways with Koda, choosing to go to the support department instead. It looked like Bakugo wouldn’t be joining him either as Kyoka watched him agree to spend lunch with Kirishima. He acted like he was reluctant to do so but Kyoka could tell he had a grudging respect for the redhead after the USJ, life-or-death situations could do that to you. Kyoka soon arrived at the development studio and knocked on the door. She heard the clanging of heavy, metal-lined boots on concrete flooring before the reinforced door slid open revealing Power Loader.

“Hey, you must be the kid Aizawa said was coming around for an upgrade. Come on in,” he said, turning back around and lazily waving a hand behind him beckoning Kyoka to follow. “We don’t usually get upgrade requests from first years so early in the year. What do you need?”

He sat on one of the workbenches and gestured for Kyoka to make herself comfortable. Kyoka leaned back against a desk, but before she could speak there was some banging in a side room further off and a girl with pink dreadlocks and large goggles poked her head into the room.

“Is someone here to make new babies? Let me show you what I have!” she shrieked, zooming away. Even more clunking came from the room she’d disappeared into. Kyoka winced, pulling her headphones over her ears in preparation for her return.

“Passionate but eccentric inventor with no social graces?” Kyoka asked deadpan as she handed Power Loader her music player just in case.

“Yeah, but she’s really good at what she does. She’s unlike any student I've ever had, always up for a challenge and totally unafraid of failure.” Kyoka nodded and took a moment to read the girl’s theme. For an inventor the music seemed oddly natural, the theme itself upbeat and jazzy. But then Kyoka realised that it was a full composition, despite her young age, being played by a one-man band kit. A theme that emphasised her versatility and skill rather than what she did. The clanging stopped and the girl came back, arms laden with a few support items that she placed on the table Power Loader was sitting on; her goggles were sat on top of her head. She looked back at Kyoka and did a double take, seemingly recognizing something about her though Kyoka was sure they’d never met.

“I’m not here for a tech upgrade, but I don’t mind checking out what you’ve got when I'm done.”

“But what about these headphones? Surely I can make them into a baby you can use!” The crosshairs that were her pupils' shifting showed how she had focused in on Kyoka’s ears.

“Uh.”

“Hatsume,” Power Loader interjected sternly, “remember that one hero student that you are not, under any circumstances allowed to touch the gear of without direct oversight and express permission?”

“You’re blueprint girl!” Hatsume cheered, and then she sobered. “Right, those headphones are medical gear first, support gear second. Sorry.”

“What?” Kyoka asked, turning to Power Loader.

“We let support students look at hero student design forms and the modified technical drawings done by the costume company. Their first assignment is actually to critique them and come up with gear proposals, management does something similar with branding. Yours stood out because it was the only one with blueprints or tech support gear as a default,” Power Loader explained. “And you now curious types, the more they can’t have something-”

“The more they want it.”

“If it’s not tech then what is it that you need?” Power Loader asked, getting back on track.

“A utility belt with detachable pouches is the main priority. With a mount on where I can attach my headset controller. The whole purse thing makes it dangerously unstable to run around with and a pain to take on and off,” Kyoka explained. “And I was thinking of adding some knives to my repertoire? But not the throwing kind.”

“You’re going to need training before we can get the knives approved but I can get a variety of samples commissioned ready in advance so you can pick out which ones you’d want. The utility belt is easy and can be finished in a day or two. But detachable pouches are a good idea when you don’t know what you’ll want to keep or use, easier to change your loadout that way.”

“Thank you. Hey Hatsume, let’s see what you’ve got. Pitch it.” Power Loader chuckled and dropped off the workbench to go back to his desk while Hatsume perked up and began animatedly explaining her newest babies. After a while, Kyoka was reminded of an idea she had come up with after their first foundational heroics session. On the one hand, Kyoka didn’t think it was feasible but on the other hand, she didn’t have the time to run the calculations and figure it out, nor did she have the skill. But Power Loader did say that Hatsume liked a challenge.

“Hey Hatsume.” the inventor stopped what she was doing and turned to Kyoka. “I do actually have an idea for a piece of support gear.”

“Really!” her eyes seemed to sparkle and it felt like she was vibrating on the spot.

“I’m just not all that sure that it’s something that could be feasible the way I envision it. But a little birdy says you like a challenge. I don’t need it done right now, but if you can create a prototype or show me a proof of concept that what I'm thinking about is possible I'll let you build it for me and take a look at my headset,” Kyoka offered, knowing full well the one thing an inventor couldn’t resist was the chance to sate their curiosity and tinker.

“Deal!”

“Not even going to ask what the request is first Hatsume?” Power Loader called.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s just too good of a bargain to pass up! So what’s the concept?”

“Bass boots,” Kyoka said simply, “I’m just thinking there has to be some way to channel either the sound energy I can generate or sound energy in general out of the bottom of my boots to assist in jumping. You know?”

“Fascinating, you can definitely do it. That’s all rocket boots are, y’know. But with the limitation of using sound energy? I have to get experimenting!” Hatsume immediately dashed off, back into the room that she had come from when Kyoka had arrived, the door slamming shut behind her.

“I can’t help but feel she gets more out of this deal than you do,” Power Loader commented. “Are you really planning on giving her your headphones?”

“I get to keep her interest for more than a few minutes which will probably better my relationship with her in the long run. And, if she does manage this I get a support partner I can trust immediately after I get out of school. So yeah, she’ll get my headphones.”

“You better go grab something to eat, you’ve been here a while and lunch is almost over,” Power Loader advised. Kyoka saluted him thanks and then headed off.

“I wouldn’t open that,” Kyoka called out. Instead of looking at Uraraka, who was at the door ready to leave, Kyoka rubbed her temples trying to stave off a headache. How such a large group had gathered so quickly without skiving class she didn’t know but it wasn’t pleasant and they weren’t quiet.

“Why not?” Uraraka asked innocently.

“I don’t think you want to get bombarded by a swarm of other first-years from different classes or gawked at like zoo animals because of our traumatic experiences,” Kyoka responded.

“The prestigious students of U.A. would do no such thing!” Iida denied.

“Tell that to my growing headache,” Kyoka hissed, not in the mood to remind him to look around at his classmates. Iida glanced at Kyoka, recognised the tension in her face and the probably rabid snarl on Bakugo’s and immediately looked shamefaced. Shoji grew more ears at the ends of his arms.

“She’s right,” he reported, turning to Iida who now looked mortified.

“Then why are they here!” the class rep asked sternly.

"Think about it Four Eyes, the Sports Festival is coming up, they're here to scout out the competition,” Bakugo drawled lazily, walking up to the closed door. “The media’s been yammering on about how we survived a real villain attack too so there are even more eyes on us.”

Mineta gestured at Bakugo, looking back at Midoriya in fear and concern.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t explode anyone,” the taller boy murmured, which didn’t quell Mineta’s panic. Bakugo glanced at Kyoka as if asking for permission. Kyoka placed her headset over her ears but didn’t turn the noise cancelling on, plugged one of her jacks into her phone and turned on her phone’s voice recorder. Then she got up on shaky legs and nodded at him. Bakugo slid the door open sharply and blinked once.

“Get out of our way extras,” he ordered, voice calm but barbed.

“You can’t just call people you don’t know extras!” Iida cried, askance. Koda came up beside Kyoka, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder as she moved to stand behind Bakugo.

“He knows us and still calls us extras,” Koda grinned snarkily.

“So this is class 1A?” a tired voice asked as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “I heard you guys were impressive but you just sound like an ass.”

“He’s the ass?” Kyoka interrupted, giving an exaggerated wheeze as she leaned against Bakugo slightly for support. “You’re the ones sending me into sensory overload.”

That seemed to chasten the guy as he fell silent, but still, no one moved and with this guy so close to her the Soundtrack pulled his theme forwards. Haunting whispers, humming, childish laughter and teasing layered heavily with reverb and a ticking clock filled her ears. Layering, layering, layering, louder and louder that she didn’t even register the creepy trauma vibes. Kyoka’s vision blurred and she clutched at her head with the free hand that wasn't pinned against Bakugo’s side. The movement caused her to pitch forward before suddenly being stopped.

“I said, get out of our way. Extras,” Bakugo growled. He’d caught her. Bakugo’s eyes flickered across the crowd, pausing on each face and giving each one a seething glare until some started to shift anxiously and slowly backed away from them.

“Kyoka,” Yaoyorozu murmured somewhere behind them and off to the side.

“The last time she had a headache this bad was the day of the USJ attack,” someone else added. That seemed to catch more peoples’ attention and they became even more uncomfortable, larger groups dispersing until only the purple-haired boy in front of them and a handful of others remained. Bakugo huffed satisfied, shouldering past the other boy and guiding Kyoka with him as he tapped her noise cancelling on.

Chapter Text

“Hey Ears, are we still on for that training session?” Bakugo asked, tapping the edge of her desk as he stood up.

“Yes,” Kyoka replied immediately, she didn’t need to take a moment to see the twitching in his palms or the wrinkles in his forehead. Nor did she need to turn around to know that Ashido had an animated, almost predatory, look on her face. Kyoka had promised him an out and she wasn’t going to jeopardise that. Not when he was just starting to approach her himself instead of waiting for Kyoka to approach him. Kyoka threw a few signs Koda’s way as she stood up, the Soundtrack throwing Kyoka something vaguely horrific in Ashido’s theme, and followed Bakugo out. Kyoka focused on Ashido’s theme and when Bakugo went to go towards the cafeteria Kyoka pulled him the other way towards the lockers instead. Before Bakugo could raise his voice she tapped her ear.

“Ashido’s following us. Besides, I could use a hand-to-hand lesson because we all know the Sports Festival is going to end in a tournament,” Kyoka explained in a low voice. “So get changed, leave at different times and take a different path to the glade.”

“Lunch?”

“Koda’s on it.”

Bakugo clicked his teeth, nodded his head and the two parted ways. Kyoka changed quickly and left first, hoping to draw Ashido away by making it look like she was going to a gym nearby before cutting through the brush and gardens and back around to the glade.

“You know this isn’t going to stop her, right? It’ll just make her more suspicious,” Bakugo said as Kyoka appeared.

“And Koda and Aoyama will vouch for us if we word our statements carefully. And if that doesn’t work, deflect her attention onto me. I have no patience for gossip,” Kyoka shrugged, brushing stray foliage from her hair and shoulders.

“I thought you’d love that shit with your quirk? You get shit to blackmail people with or you decide to be a bitch about it and Snitch on them.”

“It is useful,” Kyoka said with a grin that said she had done exactly that, “and I can lack tact, but that doesn’t mean it’s a game I want to play.”

“Okay, how much hand-to-hand do you know?”

“Literally nothing so show me how to punch without breaking my hand.”

Bakugo snorted but began to walk her through some basic jabs and hooks from boxing. Bakugo would demonstrate and Kyoka would copy his movements, essentially shadow boxing, as the more experienced blonde corrected her technique and form. Then he had her hit him, showing her counters for the punches she’d just learned by mixing them into him just blocking her punches.

“Should have grabbed boxing pads and tape from the gym,” Koda signed as he watched Kyoka shake out her hand before trying to pick up her chopsticks to eat.

“Hush you, hindsight is twenty-twenty.” Koda grinned. Kyoka turned to Bakugo. “We doing this again tomorrow?”

“Can’t, eating in the cafeteria,” Bakugo replied simply between bites of food.

“You know you don’t have to sit with them just so Ashido doesn’t get suspicious. I can guarantee that Kirishima and Sparky won’t give a shit.”

“Tape-vouch”

“And Koda can vouch for Sero too.”

“The fact that he doesn’t just tell it to them straight when he’s this confident and brash perplexes me,” Koda signed. Bakugo watched them uncomprehendingly, his understanding of sign vastly limited.

“If he does that he shows weakness. My concern is that whenever he blows up they laugh and poke him more. They should all know where the line is.”

“Shitty Hair isn’t that bad,” Bakugo growls into the silence. And… yeah, Kyoka could agree with that. Even if the placation was poorly executed it wasn’t misguided.

“Looks like Blasty’s made a friend. I thought we were all just extras?” Kyoka smirked, her tone sharp and light. A tick formed in Bakugo’s countenance and Kyoka raised her hands in surrender. “Chill. It's because he’s the only one who can stand in front of you and not get hurt, isn’t it? He’s your safety net.”

“Shut up! Besides, I know you like Dunce Face,” Bakugo barked. Kyoka allowed the deflection. She briefly entertained looping back around to her dislike of gossip considering Bakugo got that information from Kaminari or Ashido gossiping.

“Don’t call him that. He puts himself down for it enough as is. You wouldn’t want someone referring to you by your insecurity, would you?

“Pikachu’s fine, though he does say his quirk doesn’t work like that because physics doesn’t work like that. I call him Sparky sometimes though.”

“The same way you call Ponytail ‘Princess’?” Bakugo asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow. At the same time, Koda signed, “Because he turns you on.”

Kyoka did a spit take and found herself choking on her saliva. Bakugo’s head snapped to Koda who responded by cocking his head to the side and smiling at the blonde innocently. Bakugo scowled but let the topic drop. Kyoka quickly recovered from her coughing fit and addressed Bakugo again.

“But seriously Bakugo. It's nice that you have Kirishima, you hold on to people like that. The ones that you don’t have to fear being yourself around. They’re ride or die and hard to come by.”

Kyoka handed Koda his lunch box, careful to keep it out of the reach of the devious cats that crowded around them. At this point, most have been made aware of the ‘keep away from Bakugo’ rule ‘even if he smells sweet’ so they only clustered around their blanket when they knew he wouldn’t be present. On those days Koda was also more inclined to share his food with them too.

Lunch Rush had also caught on to their arrangement pretty quickly. Now they didn’t have to go up to him and ask for lunch to go. When they walked up to the counter there would usually be three boxes waiting there for them. He’d also taken to labelling each one with coloured tape. While Koda’s vegan meals were harmless and easy to spot upon opening Bakugo’s extra spicy preference caused a few… incidents when he was eating in the cafeteria.

Kyoka sat down and pulled her music player out of her pocket, turning off the noise cancelling and putting on a playlist. She was in the mood for something a little weightier than Lo-fi. Eventually, the cats couldn’t keep Koda preoccupied much longer, no matter how much they tried or wanted to, and he waved for Kyoka’s attention.

“What are you listening to?” he signed.

“Punk rock, I don’t think it would be your cup of tea,” Kyoka replied, from the grimace on Koda’s face she was probably right about that too.

“Do you have music recommendations I would like?”

“Yeah,” Kyoka scoffed, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and passed it over to him. “Put your number in and I'll send you a playlist.”

“How long have you been compiling this?” he asked once he’d pulled out his phone to take a look at what Kyoka had sent.

“Since the first day of class?” Kyoka replied uncertainly, she’d started making Hagakure’s the first time she heard her theme at the entrance exam. The playlists usually consisted of a compilation of songs she found similar in vibe or construction to a person’s theme in the Soundtrack. The act and habit of making them and continuously updating, adding and editing them was a holdover from when she was younger and testing the accuracy of both the Soundtrack and what she could infer from the music she was hearing. The playlists provided a bigger set of data to make her inferences from, especially for a person she’d just met and hadn’t heard much fluctuation from. Then she’d compare her conclusions and song choices to what the person was actually like. How and why she’d started this experiment Kyoka wasn’t sure anymore as she never wrote down anything she’d learnt about the Soundtrack over the years in case someone found it and only internalised the information she’d gathered; there were some things that she just didn’t need to think too deeply about, thank you very much. Since she was little she’d understood that the scope and scale the Soundtrack operated at seemed beyond the purview of a quirk, and even if it was within a quirk’s capabilities she already had a quirk and the Soundtrack didn’t seem related to it at all; nor was it related to anything her parents could have passed on to her so that was out too. With the origins and limitations of the Soundtrack so unclear and her reaction to first hearing it so confounding to her parents little Kyoka had quickly learnt to keep the ‘probably sentient universe music’ a secret.

“So you have one for everyone?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess. So, how’d I do?”

“Lots of these are already songs I listen to, which probably means I'll like the ones I don't recognise. So I think you did good.”

The pair lapsed into a comfortable silence again, each listening to their own sets of music until lunch ended.

When Kyoka arrived at the glade with their lunch Koda was eyeing Bakugo carefully while the explosive blonde looked away almost self-consciously.

“What’s up?” Kyoka asked as she approached. Now that she was closer she could make out Bakugo’s face better, a faint blush on his cheeks and his expression between faux indignation and a pout.

“Bakugo wants us to teach him sign,” Koda smiled softly. Bakugo’s eyes were trained on his hands, even with his body turned away.

“I don’t need you to teach me sign language!” Bakugo barked, nose wrinkling, “I could do it myself! But you can’t be fluent without practice and you shitheads are the only ones I know who are fluent.”

Koda flinched. Kyoka pointed a finger in Bakugo’s face defiantly and gave the other a chance to check himself.

“You want our help so be nice. You don’t get anything by being a dick,” she said firmly but calmly. Bakugo’s eyes widened and he quickly settled down, hunching over and looking away. Kyoka cocked her head with a slight frown.

“Sorry,” Bakugo coughed, “I might be more prone to lashing out but I can choose better.”

“We’re working on it,” he and Kyoka chorused.

“Let’s try that again, what’s with you and asking for help?”

“I don’t need it! I'll be the best without it, on my own!” Bakugo seethed, he took a deep breath, then continued. “I don’t need you to help me. I still want you to.”

Koda and Kyoka shared a look. While Bakugo could brush off his obvious abuse and trauma, even if they all knew he was smart enough to recognise it, the two of them wouldn’t.

“Parents?” Koda asked, hands placed outside of Bakugo’s field of view.

“You don’t want to be left out,” Kyoka continued, forcing an air of ‘realisation’ into her tone to distract him.

“Okay. You don’t have to patronise me. Apparently, that statement reveals my motivations on multiple levels,” Bakugo snorted. She had the feeling that if they were anyone else then he’d have a deflection about it being a good skill for her work at the ready. And by feeling she meant that the Soundtrack told her by shifting from the standard drum kit to the djembes again.

“So there is a brain under all that hair,” Koda shot back, Kyoka dutifully interpreting. Though she supposed she wouldn’t be doing that for much longer.

“Good one. I should use that on Shitty Hair.”

“So how much sign do you already know?” Kyoka asked. Bakugo carefully picked his hands up and slowly formed his words.

“I am deaf. Sorry. Thank you. My name is. Good. Sign language. Not much, I'm not the best.”

Kyoka looked between Bakugo’s hands and Koda’s as Lo-fi backed up under the soft djembe. “Oh.”

“What?” Koda asked.

“Okay, that one I know,” Bakugo said, pointing at Koda and patting his chest. Kyoka signed her response slowly enough for Bakugo to understand but concisely in a way that conveyed discovery to Koda.

“He uses sign like you do, to say the things he can’t say out loud.” Koda looked like he was going to argue but Kyoka shut him down sharply. “He said he wasn’t the best.”

“That’s the part you focus on?”

“You’re wearing hearing aids. I already know you were hard of hearing,” Kyoka said, waving Bakugo off. Though she signed hard of hearing for him to take note of. Koda nodded.

“I guessed,” Koda said in a soft sheepish voice, “explosions are loud and ears are fragile. Researched. A bit… maybe.”

“For us,” Kyoka guessed, “to better understand our quirks and offer help?”

Koda’s pink cheeks turned a darker shade.

“Shit, that’s fucking sweet as fuck Koda. Great, now I'm going to have to drown myself in zoology,” Bakugo smirked. Koda blushed harder and waved his hands frantically in front of his face while shaking his head.

“You don’t have to!”

“I will not be outdone,” Bakugo growled with a manic grin.

“Cool it, it’s not a competition,” Kyoka laughed.

“It’s not like I go out of my fucking way to keep it hidden,” Bakugo was telling Kyoka as Koda arrived. They absently took their lunches from him as he sat down. “My mother is just a hag about it, says it’s bad for branding. Thinks it makes me fucking weak, which it fucking doesn’t! And I'll explode anyone who thinks otherwise!”

“No one knows?” Koda clarified. Kyoka had asked Bakugo about his need to be the best as they walked down, she was not expecting unsupportive parents to be his response. Or the desire to prove oneself despite inherent disadvantages.

“Not even fucking Deku or his mum and I've known them since diapers. Though with Deku’s stalking, he’s probably assumed it’ll happen eventually,” Bakugo shrugged, then he jabbed Kyoka in the side. “Now hurry the fuck up so we can spar Ears.”

Kyoka raised her hand to say something before she paused thoughtfully.

“We need to come up with sign names,” Kyoka concluded. Her boys turned from their small back and forth to look at her; Koda was excited while Bakugo was confused. “Because you two get to use ‘girl’ for me and I'm tired of not having a way to differentiate.”

“What’s a sign name? Actually, that’s a stupid fucking question. How do you make one and how do they work?” Bakugo asked.

“Sign names are a unique combination of movements or signs to represent a person, either decided by the individual or a group of friends or family,” Koda explained. “I would explain construction but I'm pretty sure she prefers the Western approach.”

“That’s because the way we do it is impersonal or boring. Most JSL signs are translated or representative of a person’s last name. More creative and rarer sign names use descriptors, some borrowed from historical figures and some unique,” Kyoka continued. “Because Western names aren’t constructed from symbols with isolated meanings they find ways to represent an entire person in as few movements as possible. It’s more creative.”

“So I could just call you Ears?” Bakugo signed lazily.

“Yeah, or you could use my first name. What? I let Kaminari and Yaoyorozu do it, this is long overdue.”

“Then you can call me Koji, I guess.” he brought his fingers together and shifted sheepishly. They both turned to Bakugo who hemmed and hawed before sighing resigned.

“Only in sign or when it’s just us,” he growled threateningly, his half-hearted glare trained solely on Kyoka. Then grumbled, “I’ll never live it down otherwise.”

“You won’t,” Kyoka agreed readily, “and I can only promise to try.”

“So what are your sign names?” Katsuki asked.

“Oh, I don't have one,” Kyoka replied, “my friends never bothered to learn sign and my parents just call me daughter.”

“Same,” Koji added quietly.

“So where do we start?”

Turns out that they would start with Kyoka. Koji pointed out that the way Kyoka twirled her jacks between her fingers could be used as a signature sign. Kyoka argued it would be hard for her to sign it and make it clear that it was her sign. So Kyoka proposed that they use the action of tuning a radio dial over the right ear instead, followed by tugging the lower earlobe.

“So, you gonna stick with Ears for me?” she asked Katsuki. He raised his left hand and made a finger gun, palm facing his chest. Then he raised his middle finger on his right hand, palm facing her; Muse. Then he flipped his right hand around, and because ‘fuck you’ didn’t work in this context Kyoka’s mind automatically filled it in with ‘bitch’. Kyoka childishly stuck her tongue out at him and with her left hand signed ‘cat’ and her right signed the ASL letter K.

“What?”

“Cat but with a K.”

“Fuck you.”

Koji was the one to propose Bakugo’s standard sign name, clenching and unclenching his fist twice in quick succession to emulate Katsuki’s explosions. Katsuki sparked his own explosions in an approving echo.

“What about you Koji?”

“Katsuki, butterfly. Kyoka, moth.”

“I thought you were afraid of bugs?” Bakugo deadpanned. Koji pouted.

“Not my fault your mask is a spikey monarch butterfly. Or that the animal with the best hearing is a wax moth,” Koji argued. Kyoka pulled out her phone to look up both creatures.

“Beetle,” Kyoka interjected, “if we’re Lepidoptera then you get to be a Beetle because part of your name means shell.”

Katsuki tried to copy the sign she’d made and Kyoka repeated it slowly so that he could see it again. Koji’s own hands twitched forwards as if to take Katsuki’s hands and correct their angle but he forced himself to refrain. After a third look, Katsuki got it, unwinding his hands and repeating the motion a few times to internalise it.

“Yeah, Beetle. I can do that,” Katsuki grinned, showing off his canines. Koji huffed and pouted before letting out a resigned sigh and smiling at his friends.

“Put ‘ko’ in front of it to differentiate between the animal and me,” Koji added.

Chapter Text

Finally, the day of the Sports Festival arrived. After getting changed into their sports kits they were directed to wait in a side room in the stadium. Kyoka was the last to finish, having taken a detour to grab her combat-grade headphones, controller and the new belt that the support department had completed a week ago to hold the controller from her costume case. The belt looked bare without any of the pouches that were supposed to slot onto it but she wasn’t allowed those. Iida was the first to notice her and Kyoka had the pleasure of watching him force himself to exercise restraint, though the fact that Aoyama was also sporting his belt suggested that he’d already had the conversation with someone else. Instead, someone else decided to be nosy as Kyoka stood off to the side of the waiting room.

“Jiro!” Ashido called, bounding up to her, Hagakure hot on her tail. “I thought we weren’t allowed to bring support items with us?”

Kyoka pointed at Aoyama, then down at Ashido’s shoes, unimpressed. Without taking her eyes off the two girls she asked, “What do you actually want?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ashido pouted. Kyoka didn’t believe her and the Soundtrack affirmed that she shouldn’t believe her.

“Okay, look. Without my headphones, on a bad day; one where I already have a raging headache, a whistle can set me off. On a good day without my headphones, the cafeteria can set me off, or a large group of unfamiliar and unexpected people. How do you think I would deal in a massive stadium full of people? So yeah, headphones, medical equipment.”

“Your hearing is, like, wildly inconsistent. You know?” Kyoka raised an eyebrow at Hagakure. “Well, Shoji doesn’t have the same issues.

“Firstly, Shoji can get rid of his extra ears to the point that he has normal hearing. Second,” Kyoka turned to the room and called out, '' Shoji, could you come over here for a second? I need to prove a point.”

Shoji obliged, getting out of his seat and sauntering over. Kyoka’s call also seemed to have caught everyone else’s attention. Ah well, not like they had anything better to do sitting around here waiting.

“What’re the most ears you're comfortable with using?” Kyoka asked, Shoji raised an eyebrow.

“Six, including my regular ones.”

“Pull them out.” Shoji did so while Kyoka debated plugging a jack into the wall before quickly deciding against it. “Where’s Mr Aizawa?”

Shoji’s eyes widened. “I don’t know. That’s beyond my abilities. The space is too enclosed and the walls muffle the sound.”

Kyoka cocked her head and searched the Soundtrack of Mr Aizawa’s theme and followed it back to the source. She could do this with heartbeats and her jacks but having vibrations pounding in her head alongside the Soundtrack this early into a loud day didn’t sound like a good idea. “Four floors up and about a hundred and thirty-five degrees that way. Pretty sure that he’s in the commentator’s booth because Present Mic is there with him. Thanks for the demo, Shoji.”

Kyoka turned back to the two girls accosting her. “And third, the issue isn’t damage to my ears or how loud something is, my quirk protects me from that, it’s sensory overload. I.e. overstimulation, how many sounds there are and my brain. One continuous noise is going to bother me less than fifteen conversations happening at the same time. A setting like this is my kryptonite. My headphones don’t even block out everything so it’ll be a miracle if I make it to lunch without dropping out from the strain.”

“Then what have you and Bakugo been doing during lunch?” Hagakure asked, Ashido elbowed her in the side.

“Since you’re so against the Sports Festival and all,” she added.

“Sparing,” Kyoka stated, unimpressed, “I picked up kickboxing. Hand-to-hand is useful for hero work in general. I didn’t just pick it up for the Sports Festival.”

“Yeah, I guess. But were you sparing or were you sparing,” Ashido giggled, waggling her eyebrows as she and Hagakure leaned into her space. “C’mon, you can spill the tea, sweetie.”

“Tea, what the fuck are you-?” Kyoka blanched, then wretched, pushing herself off the wall and marched away from the pair. “Disregarding the fact that gossip can go die in a fucking hole that is… disgusting.”

Iida and Todoroki would step in and save her when the class president gathered them to leave and Todoroki challenged Midoriya. Kyoka pulled her headphones over her head and turned on noise cancelling before leaving the room. As the classes walked out onto the field Kyoka’s headphones clicked and Mr Aizawa’s voice filled her ears.

“Hello, Jiro. We’ve connected my microphone to your network so you don’t miss out on rules or announcements since Midnight and Present Mic are going to be loud. Bakugo’s going to give the athlete’s oath and then the first event is an obstacle course. No rules, just get to the end. There’ll be lights to count you down.”

“You alright?” Koji asked as they crossed the finish line together.

“Peachy,” Kyoka signed and glanced around the stadium. “Relatively speaking it wasn’t all that different from our quirk apprehension test.”

“Easy for you to say, you didn’t get blown up.”

“Screw having a built-in radar you could see those mines from the surface,” Kyoka argued.

“Congratulations,” Mr Aizawa drawled. “The next event is a team game, sorry kid. Riders wear a headband with a point total. If the rider touches the ground your team is out, horses can do whatever. Get the most points; don’t intentionally throw a rider off.”

Kyoka turned to Koji. “Team?”

“Team. I'll look for others.”

Kyoka gave him a thumbs up and let him wander off. As Kyoka scanned the area her eyes landed on Bakugo who was staring at her despite a group of his classmates crowding around him desperately. He raised an eyebrow and she smiled at him and shook her head.

“I’m not going to be useful here,” she signed, pointing over his shoulder at where Kirishima was approaching him. “His drive matches yours and will allow you to use your quirk freely. I'm not expecting to go much further than this.”

Kyoka heard Hagakure approaching her once she realised Bakugo was going to be a no-go. Kyoka turned to her and gestured to her headphones, drawing a cross over them. “I can’t hear you, find Koda.”

The empty uniform bounced before daring off. A few minutes later Koji returned with Hagakure and Sato in tow. Then they began discussing their team comp and strategy with Koji summarising for Kyoka.

“Hagakure wants to be the rider. Invisible with headband on.”

“Why? Having the headband floating there gives away where she is and defeats the point of being invisible. If she was a horse she could break away and steal people’s headbands while they’re distracted and bring them back. The rules don’t say we have to stay in formation, just that the rider can’t fall,” Kyoka pointed out. Hagakure seemed to vibrate excitedly which told Kyoka that they’d probably go with her plan.

“You want to be the rider?” Koji asked Kyoka, “I don't see it being easy for you to lift either of us.”

“Naturally. I'll turn my noise cancelling off for this when we start too so you don’t have to worry about me missing warnings,” Kyoka cringed at the thought. “I’m gonna need some aspirin after this.

“The plan is to have us play keep away while Hagakure aims to steal points through stealth on the side. I'll try and grab stuff with my range too but I'll be playing defence mostly. Hard to surprise someone who can hear you coming before you even decide to.”

An ominous four note motif played repeatedly in her ears and Kyoka pitched forward to press herself against Koji’s back.

“Pivot!” she called as a jack wrapped itself around the assailant’s outstretched hand, the other jack shooting out to point at his neck like a dagger. It was blocked momentarily by an air barrier that the jack pierced through easily. Her team turned to face their attacker. “Nice try but you make way too much noise and my jacks are strong enough to pierce concrete and rebar.”

The blonde rider huffed and opened his mouth to say something that would probably be condescending, “Oh, looks like the scared weakling does have some bite to her after all. What, not going to fall over because there are too many people around?”

“My jacks are strong enough to pierce concrete and rebar,” Kyoka repeated simply, her jacks positioned over his hand and near his neck like snakes ready to strike. Though she angled the one at his neck up a little to aim more for his eye. “Try me.”

Kyoka kept her eye on the rider, trusting her team to watch his horses as she heard Hagakure come over behind the opposing team. “Looks like we underestimated you, rest assured 1B will not make that mistake again. Guess not all of you are so close-minded.”

It was obvious he was trying to get them to lower their guard but he was also distracting himself and his teammates. Kyoka paused, watching Hagakure untie the headband around his neck until the tails were only held around him by Hagakure’s hands.

“Disengage,” Kyoka ordered, Koji and Sato followed and Kyoka used the momentum to pull the rider into his front horse with the grasp she had on his arm so that Hagakure could slip the headband off of him without him noticing the missing weight or the tug. Then, Kyoka unwound her jack from around his arm. When the rider picked himself up Koji immediately noticed the change and struggled to keep himself composed. “Hey. You three should think about getting better friends. Someone who targets another for their trauma and neurological disorders isn't worth your time and you deserve better.”

Kyoka patted Koji’s shoulder, “Let’s go.”

“Well, that was crazy. But I've got to say, sixth isn’t that bad,” Kyoka grinned as all of the students gathered back together before heading off to lunch. “At least we didn’t end with nothing.”

“If I had kept that last headband we would have qualified,” Hagakure fumed, waving her arms up and down frantically and stomping a foot up and down on the ground.

“I did tell you a floating headband would look suspicious,” Kyoka replied while signing to Koji. “I’ll hang back and grab Kats.”

Kyoka followed Katsuki’s theme back into the stadium and around to one of the emergency side exits. He was peeking around the corner where Kyoka could also hear Todoroki and Midoriya’s themes emanating from. Curious, Kyoka quietly sauntered up to the blonde and leaned against the wall beside him. Then, she turned on her recorder and did what she did best, waited and listened. Once Midoriya and Todoroki were done talking and had walked away Kyoka stopped her recording and waited a few more seconds until Katsuki tapped her on the shoulder. Kyoka opened one eye to look at him with a hum.

“How much of that did you hear Muse?” he asked.

“All of it,” Kyoka shrugged. She patted the belt where her controller sat. “got it on record too.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to fucking Snitch, bitch!” Katsuki barked.

“Not today. I don’t think it would do much good with everything going on and with who Endeavor is. But the moment I feel Todoroki is in any danger from his father I won’t hesitate to put it on blast,” Kyoka said. Kyoka briefly considered who had access to the files on her music controller and made a mental note to move the recording to the secret Bluetooth compatibility menu just in case and so she could transfer it to her personal devices just in case. “Besides, I'm not above blackmailing the number two.”

“Bitch.”

“And that’s exactly why you tolerate me.”

Chapter Text

Koji hummed a little tune that he’d heard Kyoka humming sometimes as he carried three lunch boxes to the glade. It was too bad they didn’t have a picnic blanket today. When he arrived at the glade he was surprised to see that someone was already there. It was that boy with purple hair who’d sent Kyoka over the edge two weeks ago. Koji waited for a little bit to see if he would leave but the boy was determined to coax a cat crouched in the bushes out to him. Koji huffed, determined not to let his terminal social anxiety keep him from his safe place and crept around him and into the centre of the glade. Luckily he had been practising his stealth against Kyoka, something she insisted was a fool’s errand but both Katsuki and himself were determined to prove wrong, so he got by the other boy without being noticed quite easily. He wasn’t lucky enough to escape the cats’ notice though as they caught the scent of the food and immediately noticed the lack of Katsuki’s presence. The gaggle of strays that lurked in the area rushed out of hiding, disregarding the purple-haired boy to swarm Koji. The other boy turned to trace the cats, surprised at the number he hadn’t noticed before his eyes locked on Koji. The two stared at each other blankly, neither moving nor saying a word. That is until the cats started to get restless and tried to knock the lunch boxes out of Koji’s arms at which point he lowered himself to the ground to quietly scold the cats into behaving.

“So, come here often?” the other boy asked from across the field as he rubbed the back of his neck. Koji blinked and nodded harshly. Then they continued to stare at each other. They were both saved from further socialisation when Kyoka and Katsuki announced their presence loudly and obviously; an unusual thing for them to do.

“Hey Koji, sorry we took so long. I dragged Bakugo to Recovery Girl to grab some aspirin,” Kyoka paused when the other boy came into view and put on a surprised expression. “Oh, Shinso, right? What are you doing here?”

Koji looked over at Katsuki who had a snide smile playing on his lips. Oh, so Kyoka had heard him and she was putting on an act to keep him unsettled. That explained why she called Katsuki Bakugo when she was addressing Koji.

“Uh, cats?” Shinso replied lamely. Said cats gave Katsuki a wide berth as he walked through and sat down with Kyoka between himself and Koji like usual. Despite Kyoka’s best efforts, Shinso’s gaze found Bakugo and the tired boy suddenly found his bite.

“Oh look, it’s the egomaniac. I thought you’d be brooding off on your lonesome. What, decided to grace us heathen extras with your glorious presence?” Shinso drawled. Kyoka watched Katsuki out of the corner of her eye as he carefully set down his utensils and sparked his hand clean of nitroglycerine, just in case he couldn’t stop himself from lunging.

“Hey, if your issue is with two weeks ago then look at me,” Kyoka intervened. “He was trying to help me, as abrasive as he can be, so back off.”

“What, not going to defend your boyfriend for what he said during the opening ceremony?” Shinso shot back. Koji rolled his eyes.

“Oh please, the only reason Butterfly got away with that is because Moth couldn’t hear a word he said,” Koji signed.

“Don’t need to. He’s perfectly capable of defending himself. I just want to know what your problem is,'' Kyoka replied, not at all phased by the deriding way he called Katsuki her boyfriend and not even bothering to refute it. As an aside, she signed, “What did you do?”

“I said I was going to win,” Katsuki scoffed with his hands. Kyoka blinked. That wasn’t so bad, other than the way he probably said it. Shinso’s scowl deepened as he watched them blatantly communicate in sign.

“I’m not just mad at him, I'm mad at all of you hero wannabes who are so lucky that you don’t have to work for anything because you’re so blessed with powerful quirks that are perfect for heroics.” Shinso took the silence that followed as his victory and smiled at Kyoka smugly before she burst out into raucous laughter.

“You're pissed you didn’t get into the hero course so you're taking it out on us and you're too narcissistic to acknowledge it was your own damn fault for being unprepared and are blaming quirks instead,” Kyoka chuckled ruthlessly. “I mean ‘blessed with a powerful quirk’? Both Hagakure and Koji made it into the hero course. Hagakure’s only shtick is that she’s invisible and Koji's quirk lets him talk to animals. If you think they had the entrance exam easy then you are a fool.”

Shinso opened his mouth to argue but Kyoka bulldozed right over him as she gestured between herself and Katsuki. “And if you think our quirks are ‘perfect’ or ‘blessings’ go over the facts. I have a neurological disorder because my brain can’t handle the amount of information my quirk receives which can send me into a major shutdown or hyperactive panic. Let's be real, you’ve seen it, hell you’ve caused it. Bakugo’s quirk causes him to produce and excrete a toxic and highly explosive chemical from his sweat glands. If you can’t figure out how that might cause issues both physically and psychologically you’re either dumber than a bag of rocks or willfully ignorant.”

“Yeah, well… you don’t know what I've been through either.” Shinso was blushing profusely in shame and embarrassment. His theme grew louder as if it was mocking and taunting him.

“You’re right I don't, but I'm not the one going around making assumptions based on information I don't have. Now you can either stay in which case you can ask Koji nicely if he’ll ask the cats to play with you, or you can leave. Either way, we come here to eat instead of staying in the cafeteria to avoid harassment so I don't want to hear any more of it from you. At least until I'm done eating.” Kyoka made it clear that the conversation was over by picking up her lunchbox and beginning to eat. Minutes later, after she’d set her empty box aside, Shinso bit his lip and found his voice again.

“How did you pass the entrance exam?” he asked.

“Well I passed because of rescue points,” Kyoka said. “In fact, I distinctly remember helping you. You were running away from a two-pointer down a dead-end alley and I pulled you out of the way remember? Koji passed thanks to the hidden buttons, which I told you about. When I said it was your own fault you didn’t pass I wasn’t pulling that out of my ass. I know because I was there.”

“Oh… sorry.”

“I’m not the only one you should be apologising to.”

Shinso looked at Katsuki. “Sorry. But don’t think I'm going to take it easy on you if we meet in the tournament.”

“Huh, naturally,” Katsuki scoffed. “If I didn’t want people to hit me with everything they’ve got I wouldn't have pissed them all off now would I ?”

“Abrasive, right,” Shinso said slowly, grinning at Kyoka who shrugged in response. When they were all getting ready to leave and head back to the stadium, Kyoka turned to Shinso one last time.

“Hey, so long as you’re not a dick about it feel free to come back sometime. Y’know, for the cats.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

Chapter Text

“I would explain the tournament, but you don’t need to hear it; I trust you’re smart enough to figure it out. There are some side games, too, before the main event. If you want to participate, just call; otherwise, I'm going to take a nap,” Mr Aizawa groaned before the line cut off. Suddenly the girls of 1A crowded around her, and why were they wearing cheerleader outfits? Why did Yaoyorozu have a spare? Some of them seemed to be trying to speak to her, and Kyoka raised her hands to get them to stop.

“Guys, how many times do I have to tell you that if I have my headphones on chances are pretty high that I can’t hear you!” She unclipped the Walkman-shaped controller from her belt and tossed it to Yaoyorozu. “You want the green button.”

“Mineta says we have to wear these for the cheer battle this afternoon,” Yaoyorozu informed her. “Mr Aizawa instructed him to tell us. We couldn’t find you, but I made a spare for you in case no one told you here.”

“Uh, no thanks. Not my style.” Kyoka then tapped the outside of her headphones. “And I was just talking to Mr Aizawa, and he said nothing about it.”

Nearby Mineta’s theme had become an instrumental of ‘Is you is or is you ain’t my baby’; which was a bop, don’t get Kyoka wrong, but in this context, just showed how skeevy Mineta was being. His eyes were bloodshot, and there was heat on his cheeks as he commiserated with Kaminari. Kyoka quickly snatched her controller back from Yaoyorozu, but she was still close enough to hear the tone of her outraged cry at being tricked.

Eventually, the tournament began. First up, it was Shinso against Midoriya. Honestly, Kyoka was more excited about the battle music than the battles themselves, her notation notebook sitting in her lap. Too bad this battle took after Shinso’s music which made sense since he was winning. Liminal and creepy with a monotone use of the theremin the Soundtrack was almost silent as a blank-faced Midoriya began to slowly walk towards the arena line. Then the air around Midoriya exploded, punctuated by a guitar riff and followed by proud trumpets, though it was still pretty quiet; disappointing.

Ojiro sat down in relief.

Midoriya charged, and Shinso stood there talking, presumably spouting more of his nonsense. He punched Midoriya twice, pretty much ineffectually, before becoming victim to one of the boy’s over-the-shoulder throws. Seeing Shinso lose was rough, considering their tentative peace earlier, but Kyoka couldn’t help but throw her head back and laugh in the silence where everyone else held their breath.

“What’s so funny?” Koji asked, signing her head as she leaned back. Katsuki looked over at her, and Ojiro was openly gaping at her.

“Nothing. I just didn’t expect him to be a one-trick pony on top of everything else.” It took Katsuki a moment to get it, but once he did he started cackling too.

“His quirk looks like some form of mind control. I guess it being considered ‘villainous’ is why he’s so prissy,” Katsuki signed when she looked his way.

“Right, like a living bomb and a Snitch have no villainous potential or applications either. Should we take offence? I think we’d make great villains if we wanted to.”

“The best,” Katsuki agreed. Koji sighed in disappointment but joined in anyway.

“We will destroy the institutions of man and take back the land for all the creatures of nature!” Katsuki snorted before his eyes drifted back to the stage, his focus returning to analysing his potential opponents.

The next match was just as disappointing for Kyoka when it was over before any music could even begin. However, the dark theme that played after was evocative and oppressive. Kyoka still tried to lighten the mood in the stands as everyone shivered in fear and the cold.

“There Todoroki goes again. Freezing people without regard for whether or not they get hypothermia,” Kyoka twisted a jack between her fingers. “It’s like he hasn’t learnt anything.”

A techno theme underscored the battle between Shiozaki and Kaminari from the moment they began walking into the arena. It seemed like the Soundtrack had taken note of her earlier disappointment and had started playing themes earlier to compensate for how short the battles were. Then Monoma’s theme came in and cut it off as his head appeared over the dividing wall. Without bothering to turn off noise cancelling to give anything he had to say the time of day, Kyoka shot one of her jacks out towards him.

“Try me,” she declared. He stopped talking, and then suddenly fell to the ground. Kendo looked over the wall with a bright smile and what seemed to be an apology, all of which Kyoka couldn’t hear and couldn’t be arsed to try and hear. Either way, Kyoka retracted her jack, oblivious to how her classmates leaned away from her nervously.

This wasn’t even a battle theme, this was just Hatsume’s theme, still played by that one-man band, but extended edition. Which made sense considering she was using the entire battle as an advertising opportunity. Kyoka nodded her head along with the music, her hands drumming against her legs. It got her strange looks from her classmates, but they just assumed she was playing music in her headphones. Well, except for Shoji, who was confused and concerned since he couldn’t hear a thing leaking through her muffs even with four ears. Kyoka did pay attention to the stage when Hatsume demoed her boots, though. They may have been powered by electromagnetism, but they were some form of proof for what Kyoka was asking for. Essentially, if it could be done with electromagnets, all Hatsume would have to do next is convert the type of energy without losing a massive excess to waste products. Though she’d take the electromagnetic boots if they dressed them up a little and integrated them with her speakers without interfering with them.

Aoyama and Ashido’s battle was accompanied by something light, smooth and bubbly. It combined one's elegance with the other’s energy. A fast-paced, overwhelming electric guitar riff punctuated Tokoyami’s takedown but left Yaoyorozu’s theme even sadder in his absence. Tetsutetsu and Kirishima’s theme was extremely dramatic and loud, and Kyoka had the feeling that it was going to go on for a while, so she got up to grab something to drink and maybe another aspirin. Coincidentally Katsuki got up to head down to the waiting room for his match at the same time.

“Don’t you dare hold back,” Kyoka told him before they parted ways, just catching how Katsuki jutted his head out as if to say ‘naturally’. Kyoka forged on to Recovery Girl’s room, tapping her headset before entering.

“Hello dear. Another aspirin?” Recovery Girl called when Kyoka entered the room. Kaminari was on one of the beds in the corner, recharging from his fight with Shiozaki.

“Yes, ma’am. And if you have something to drink too, that would be appreciated. I don’t want to go out and back for something. I'll just finish on the way.”

“Of course dear. I'm glad to see one of you taking care of yourself.” The old nurse passed her a glass of water and a small bottle of pills while she got up and waddled over to a mini-fridge. Among the emergency blood bags were juice cartons and carbonated drinks. Kyoka swallowed her pill. “Any preference dear?”

“Apple,” Kyoka replied. She tilted her head when, up above, Kirishima and Tetsutetsu’s fight theme abruptly cut out. “It looks like you’ll be getting both Tetsutetsu and Kirishima.”

“Thank you for the heads up dear. Though I suppose that means you should be heading back now. Kaminari dear, you go on up with her. Your charge should be fine now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

They walked through the arena’s halls side by side. Kyoka tried to ignore how Kaminari kept giving her strange, uncertain looks. She wanted to turn her noise cancelling back on, but every few seconds, it looked like he wanted to say something but then chickened out at the last second before doing it all over again.

“Do you have anything to say before I turn deafen back on?” Kyoka asked, fed up and decided to confront him directly. Kaminari bit his lip until it seemed his anxiety at getting caught outweighed his embarrassment for even asking.

“Are you and Bakugo dating?” he asked. Fuck Ashido, but also good on Kaminari for his directness.

“No,” Kyoka replied. She tapped her headphones, “And it’s not like it’s any of your business. But I don’t fall in love so easily.”

She missed how Kaminari reacted to that.

Okay, this fight was intense and had an absolute banger track. Neither opponent was backing down, and the music just kept building and building. Hell, the track was so good it was entirely unique to either opponent and never gave away who was winning or losing at any moment in the fight. Kyoka winced in sympathy every time Uraraka got countered, she knew what it was like to be foiled by Katsuki’s quick reaction time. She also felt a little bad every time one of Uraraka’s sneak attacks failed miserably because she was the one who got the blonde so used to spotting when those were coming. Though, to be fair, Uraraka kept making the beginner mistake of announcing her attacks every time she made an attack, making her extremely obvious. Beyond her focus, Ashido was trying to gossip, and failing majorly. Mostly because Ashido still didn’t understand when Kyoka could or couldn’t hear her.

“Hey, Jiro. You’ve sparred with Bakugo, right? Is he always like this?” Ashido asked nervously. “Uh, Jiro?”

“I’ve never seen them come back from lunch with any bruises,” Tsu said, tapping her cheek.

“You think he goes easy on her?” Sero wondered thoughtfully.

“No way, this is Bakugo we’re talking about, he’s intense to the core,” Kaminari reminded them.

“But what if he likes her?” Hagakure needled. Kaminari recoiled.

“Let’s ask. Hey, Jiro!” Ashido reached her hand out towards Jiro’s headset. Iida, remembering their first interaction, reached out to stop her, but Koda's hand grabbed Ashido’s arm first just as Jiro’s closest jack lifted to do it herself. The jack rose to Ashido’s eye line, almost acting snakelike as Jiro glared at her out of the corner of her eye. Koda let go of Ashido’s arm.

“No,” he told her firmly, “you don’t do that.”

Ashido crumbled under Koda's disappointment especially when Iida jumped in to admonish her too. Kyoka’s gaze returned to the match, and her jack lowered slowly. Everyone was left a little unnerved by the interaction. The difference between Kyoka's sparring and this fight with Uraraka is that Kyoka automatically refers to Katsuki as the superior, Koji thought. She is a kit trying to learn from him, not beat him. While Uraraka is a rival trying to challenge his authority. The crowd started to boo Katsuki for his intensity, Mr Aizawa scolded them, and then Monoma started to explain Uraraka’s strategy. But Kyoka, aided by her only clue from the Soundtrack, unknowingly interrupted him.

“Look up,” she said. Both 1A and B complied, though Monoma was a little incensed at being interrupted, to see an ocean of rocks hanging above the stadium. Kyoka’s gaze was still on the stage as she watched Uraraka once again announce her attack foolishly, and if she could see it, Katsuki could definitely hear it. The rocks started to fall, and Uraraka raced forward. Katsuki raised his hands to the sky. “Too bad she still loses.”

Her words are punctuated by a massive explosion that blew Uraraka, the debris and the Soundtrack away. The Soundtrack chimed softly in confusion in the ensuing quiet. Was it surprised? That was new. And Kyoka made a mental note to rewrite how that track was resolved when she wrote down the notation back home.

The Soundtrack picked up again as Uraraka’s determination pulled her to her feet. Except the music now is sad and desperate. Katsuki noticed it too, his feral grin fading and his eyes softening as he watched Uraraka trip over her own feet and still try to keep going. Ever the fighter, though, he doesn’t shift out of his battle stance until he confirms his victory. And with Uraraka’s fading consciousness, the Soundtrack’s direct interference peters out. Kyoka leaned back so her head was resting between Koji’s knees, tapping deafen off. It was like there were stars in her eyes when she looked up at him.

“That was so rockin’,” she grinned. He gave her a quiet chuckle.

“Pun.'' Kyoka finally opened her drink and took a swig of it as Katsuki entered the stands and took a seat. Kyoka signed ‘cat’ at him, but this time with claws out. She wasn’t sure if he got it, but he and Uraraka were both fierce.

“Hey, Bakugo.” Katsuki looked at her. Kyoka was way too jazzed. “When Uraraka gets back, tell her she would have won if she hadn’t announced her attack. We both know it’s true.”

“Why don’t you fucking do it,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Because it’ll feel better coming from you. Acknowledge her so next time you won’t win because of the same silly mistake.”

“Refinement,” Koji nodded.

“Jirou, you’re buzzing,” Tsu pointed out.

“Sorry, just another way overstimulation expresses itself. I'm going to be so tired when I get home.”

“That or it was the apple juice,” Koji added. Kyoka huffed and turned deafen back on.

“The fight hasn’t started yet?” Uraraka asked, relieved as she rushed to reenter the stands, taking a seat between Tokoyami and Iida.

“Yo, round face,” Bakugo called. Uraraka turned to look up at him.

“There’s no way he’s actually going to do it, right?” Sero hissed to Ashido.

“If you hadn’t announced your fucking attack like a fucking idiot before you did it, you probably would have won that fight.” He gave her a sharp smirk. “It was a shitty mistake, and you’ll do fucking better next time I get to kill you. Got that pink cheeks?”

“No way,” Mineta whispered, wide-eyed.

“I told you,” Ashido sang, grinning and wiggling her eyes suggestively. Uraraka was surprised, but her expression quickly hardened into determination as she nodded.

Was that a Spanish guitar-style melody back there? She was not expecting that. Kyoka wondered if the Soundtrack might have been compensating for the lack of music from Sero’s fight. It was soon drowned out by drums and trumpets, but if she focused, Kyoka could still hear it back there. The annoying thing was that every time the two of them blew away the stage they blew away the Soundtrack too. The music couldn’t build with all this starting and stopping. The Soundtrack turned dark and ominous as the pair stopped fighting to chat before Todoroki shot out a massive wave of ice. Then Midoriya blew the music away. This was starting to get on her nerves. The track switched styles again as they stopped to talk again. Even if it was obvious they were discussing Todoroki’s trauma and refusal to use his fire, this was getting boring. Okay, now the music was building, but it was still damn slow and mournful. Then silence and talking again.

Suddenly, fire exploded from Todoroki, timed to the zenith of Midoriya’s theme. So this was what he was after. Just like Katsuki, Midoriya didn’t want to win if he didn’t win right. Even if he didn’t win the fight, Kyoka shielded her face from the raging winds of their final blows. Midoriya got what he wanted. But Kyoka had this ominous feeling that Bakugo wouldn’t.

The next two battles were given this tribal chanting and drums treatment, going by quickly. But in the break between matches, an ominous sting marked by ancient death buzzed in Kyoka’s perception. It was quiet and unmoored by a person or location, but it was there and didn’t escape her notice. She couldn’t help but wonder what it meant. But she didn’t have much time to look into it before the next match had started, and the strange, out-of-place melody was buried under more sound.
Kyoka headbanged her way through both Katsuki vs Kirishima and Iida vs Todoroki with pretty good bops. The fight theme for Katsuki vs Tokoyami favoured the shadow wielder’s dark elegance, but the intense light resulted in Tokoyami’s loss. In the break before the last battle, Kyoka zeroed in on Todoroki's theme. Despite his revelation with Midoriya, his theme had stayed the same: mournful and incomplete. Which meant Katsuki wasn’t getting a no-holds-barred fight.

Oh boy.

Chapter Text

Katsuki breaks through Todoroki's glacier bringing the music to task with his drum kit, a guitar hurrying to step up too. He doges to Todoroki’s left and violins come in. When Todoroki grabs Katsuki with his left arm the music cuts out. Todoroki has to make a choice and Kyoka knows it's going to end poorly. There’s no fire and the tracks change, soft and upset, drums distant. Even when Katsuki shouts and screams the drums don’t come back and Kyoka knows. Katsuki has won the fight, but he’s also lost. Not even Midoriya’s interference could bring back that spark.

Then, Midnight uses her quirk on Katsuki.

Koji’s soothing Lo-fi that had been buzzing pleasantly in the base of Kyoka’s skull stops dead like a record scratch. Kyoka turned to look at him and found him standing unexpectedly, his face pale and eyes wide in horror. The match was called in Katsuki’s favour and both he and Todoroki were carried out of the arena.

“Koji?” As soon as Katsuki is out of his sight he barely spares her a glance before he’s racing between the seats and out of the stands. Kyoka barely hesitated before she ran after him. Once they’re in darkened, empty corridors Kyoka pulls her headphones down.

“Koji, what’s going on?”

“Find Katsuki. Getting Recovery Girl,” Koji ordered. Okay then, she could do that.

Kyoka tapped the Soundtrack which is when she knew Koji was right and something was seriously wrong. Katsuki’s heartbeat-like theme was beating at an increasingly aggravated pace tinged with crashing symbols left to ring endlessly instead of the controlled high-hats he usually had. Kyoka picked up the pace and followed Katsuki’s theme to one of the off-limits areas out of the way of the entrances. While she didn’t understand why Koji was so afraid, what Kyoka saw in that room was enough to set her off too.

“What the fuck!” Katsuki’s hands had been placed into shackles that were chained to the floor of what would become the podium and a muzzle had been strapped around his head. Cementoss was trying to tie him to a pillar he’d created with leather straps and Midnight had another set of restraints in her hands. Katsuki was straining against the chains desperately. His muffled screams, though easily mistaken for rage, were stained with fear. Tokoyami and Todoroki stood on either side of him. The son of Endeavor was lost in thought and almost dissociative while the child of darkness looked away resolutely.

“Jiro, what are you doing back here? You shouldn’t be here!” Midnight admonished. She didn’t even drop the shackles in her hands or try to hide them. “Please return to the arena, we’ll be ready for the awards ceremony in a moment.”

“Get muted! Like hell I will, not until you get Bakugo out of those and off of that thing!” She marched towards the two pros unafraid. If they tried anything Koji would be here with Recovery Girl soon enough. Katsuki had stopped his frantic struggling, slightly glazed eyes content to track Kyoka, though his posture was still tense and he was leaning away from Cementoss like he often did Ashido.

“Jiro, it’s fine, they’re just a precaution. Bakugo here was being uncooperative when he woke up and we have a schedule to keep,” Cementoss placated ineffectually in a way that reminded Kyoka of Kirishima’s middle-man act but worse because the teacher was being fucking condescending and was supposed to know better. “Aren’t you tired and want to head home as soon as possible?”

Kyoka scoffed, staring at Katsuki like the two of them were the only things in the room that mattered. Deadly calm and voice hard she said, “not at the expense of my friend’s bodily autonomy. Ever.”

Katuksi seemed to relax further and relief flooded his theme; the fire of rage and fear dimmed in his eyes like he trusted Kyoka to take care of this for him. Then she whipped her head over to Cementoss.

“And that doesn’t justify jack shit.” The unintentional pun was punctuated by a jack flicking out and pointing at Cementoss as her hands stayed frozen to her side so she didn’t try to punch someone. “People aren't just uncooperative for no reason, not even teenagers, did you even bother to ask what was wrong?”

“He was being unreasonably aggressive, we couldn’t get the chance,” Midnight deflected. Before Kyoka could get another tirade, there was a tap of a cane on the floor that effectively silenced the room. Recovery Girl, with Koji rocking nervously behind her, appeared in the doorway.

“Of course he was aggressive. You almost killed him,” Recovery Girl said, the statement absolute and directed wholly at Midnight. Midnight’s theme sputtered to a stop with a weight of dread even though her expression barely shifted. “Increased adrenaline output and increased aggression as a result was his body’s way of setting things right.”

Kyoka would have loved to hear Midnight get chewed out and the medical explanation for all of that but Katsuki was more important right now. Besides, Koji could fill her in over text after all of this was over. She used the distraction Recovery Girl provided to march right up to Katsuki, her jacks plunged into the shackles while her hands unstrapped the muzzle from around his head.

“You okay Kats?” He grunted in acknowledgement. Her jacks stabbed the shackles a few more times and she pumped her heartbeat into them a couple of times before they were damaged enough for Katsuki to break apart himself. “What’s this all about?”

“I don’t want the fucking medal,” Katsuki spat, “it wasn’t a real win.”

“You did earn it,” Midnight lamented. “Todoroki was knocked out of bounds and you stayed in. By the rules as written you earned it.”

“You fought well,” Cementoss added. Anyone with half a brain could see he felt like he didn’t earn it, telling him he did wasn't going to convince him of anything. Especially when you haven’t even figured out why he feels he didn’t earn it. What they needed to do was give him options and respect his fucking autonomy.

“Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit that Todoroki chickened out and went easy. If anyone did that to me for any reason, say being a girl, I wouldn't want that medal either.” Midnight winced at the barely concealed and barbed attack, the teacher and Kyoka both knowing that this wouldn't even be a point of contention if Katsuki were a girl. Hell, if he were a girl his decision would have been praised for being fucking feminist or as a show of female empowerment. “But do you really want to walk away now and let everyone think you're a petty bitch or a sore winner? Or do you want to go up there, take the medal, tell the world you don’t accept it and dump the thing on Todoroki as a reminder to give you a real challenge next time and take his opponents seriously?”

Todoroki’s theme perked up and Kyoka found him staring at her, clarity and focus granted momentarily upon hearing his name.

“Figure your shit out, then get back to him. If you really need help translating what his deal is, just ask.”

Todoroki nodded then went back to dissociating, which wasn’t exactly healthy but whatever, bigger fish to fry. Katsuki meanwhile was still considering her suggestion.

“They’re forcing you to take the medal,” she reminded him, “but they can’t control what you do with it after.”

A feral grin slowly stretched across his face and showed off his sharp canines. “Fine, I'll fucking do it.”

Kyoka turned around to find Cementoss and Midnight looking at her, more Katsuki behind her, in concern while Koji simply smiled and Recovery Girl remained neutral. Kyoka walked towards the door. “There, problem solved. This would have all been over and done with if you freaking motherfuckers had actually done your jobs and worked with him as a competent and intelligent individual to find a suitable compromise. Whatever possessed you to think it was a good idea to muzzle and chain a child I hope never infects anyone passably respectable again, much less child caretakers.”

Then, because she was still pissed and didn’t understand how they could sit back and watch, she rounded on Tokoyami and Todoroki. “And fuck the two of you who stood there with your thumbs in your asses doing nothing because that is what an enabler looks like! Heroes, right.”

Kyoka was followed by Koji, both quick to get back to the arena and watch the fallout of Katsuki’s follow-through. The Soundtrack crooned in Kyoka’s ear, pushing Tokoyami’s theme at her. Why Tokoyami and not Todoroki? Because she was already aware Todoroki was out of sorts from his own shit and there was the uncomfortable thought he might think that’s normal or acceptable. Kyoka takes the offered moment to reflect on Tokoyami from the moment she entered the room to the moment she left. When she’d walked in he had turned the other beak; a refusal to acknowledge. But his eyes kept sliding back to it. The Soundtrack shifted his theme low.

He knew it was wrong and had turned away anyway.

When she had scolded him for standing by he was facing her, but his eyes were lowered. Calling him an enabler made him flinch and Kyoka already knew she was going to regret that last jab but had still made it.

It wasn’t out of malice, he had turned because of fear.

Obvious mutation, sentient quirk, a penchant for the ‘dark’ he embraced almost like a shield.

Afraid that if he stepped in he’d be next. Next time she got a chance she owed Tokoyami an apology. It doesn’t excuse his inaction, but she can understand it. It's that same fear that has led her to keep quiet about the Soundtrack for years.

Katsuki chucked the medal at Todoroki, a disappointed snarl morphed on his face when he caught it easily. When Todoroki actually looked and considered the item, however, Katsuki's head raised a notch in pride. She had a feeling Todoroki would be using it more to remind Endeavor he had lost than to remind himself he owes Katsuki a proper fight. But still.

As the festival winds down and everyone gets ready to go home Kyoka tried something new. She probed the Soundtrack with a purpose and a request. She wasn’t asking for confirmation or looking for a clue, which the Soundtrack always chose to give her unprompted. She wasn’t trying to focus or track which the Soundtrack assisted in by pulling the necessary themes forward and pushing the rest back. And she wasn’t revelling in the music which the Soundtrack was just like regardless of its sentience. No, this time when she poked at the part of her awareness she imagined the Soundtrack occupied she asked after its omniscience and foresight. Who do I tell about this? All the music in the Soundtrack silences itself, some facsimile of it thinking, before returning with only one theme. The familiar twisted heroics of Mr Aizawa’s song filled her ears, but not to follow it. It looked like the Soundtrack was leaving the where and when to her, only promising the best results with him if that is what she chose. Which she appreciated, she would rather conduct herself, even when choosing to follow.

Breaking her from her thoughts the Soundtrack pulled Iida's theme her way despite him not being present due to a family emergency. For a second she almost didn’t recognise it as Iida’s, the chiptune having been traded for a stilted music box, slow and sombre and filled with grief as each note rings out offbeat as if it was uncertain if it was supposed to play.

Chapter Text

The first thing Kyoka noticed when they returned to school two days later was that Iida was late. Which wasn’t good on her nerves considering the Soundtrack’s warning the other day and then the subsequent announcement of his brother’s injuries. The Soundtrack had made it out like someone had died so the announcement had settled her somewhat. But the visceral sorrow and clear way Iida’s meticulous theme had been thrown off completely made it clear that he wasn’t okay at all and wouldn’t be for a while. And sure, the guy set her off a lot, but he was a classmate. She wasn’t a monster, she cared.

The second thing she noticed was that Todoroki's theme had finally reached its resolution. It hadn’t changed much but the airy, unmoored and floaty piece had received a solid foundation. Drums, ironically, while the singer was traded for violins. A part of her wanted to know what got him there, but that would draw too much attention to herself.

The third thing she noticed was that Iida’s theme was playing in legato. That and there was nothing metallic, or Iida, about it. It was more put together than the warning, actually playing in time and without stumbling. But the music box which had still forced the song to have an ‘Iida’ quality had been traded for a piano. It was a good piano, string not keyboard, but it wasn’t Iida. And if the stilted nature of his theme really reflected his dedication to the rules she was concerned about what he was going to do now that, musically, that dedication seemed to be broken.

“This morning’s class is important so listen up,” Mr Aizawa began, his voice filtering directly into her head. She figured she’d get distrusted by the Soundtrack that morning so had opted to preemptively leave her player at the podium. “We’ll be discussing hero informatics. You need to pick your codenames.”

The class exploded into excitement for a second, a brief flare of Mr Aizawa’s quirk instantly settling them.

“This relates to the recruitment offers you’ve received for the upcoming work study.” Mr Aizawa presses a button and a graph appears on the board behind him. Interestingly Katsuki had fewer offers than Todoroki, but not by much. Endeavor’s name as a brand probably netted him a few more offers because a legacy would be seen as more reliable and more likely to be of quality than a breakout upstart. “Whether or not you have offers you’ll all be interning with pros to observe how a hero works up close, in person and in the field.”

“And that’s why we’ll need hero names!” Uraraka cheered.

“These codenames are likely going to be temporary, but still take them seriously or you might get stuck with something you’re going to regret. Names aren’t my forte so Midnight was going to be here and have the final say, but she’s indisposed at the moment,” Mr Aizawa continued. Kyoka could feel the weight of Katsuki and Tokoyami’s stares and she let her lip curl up into a satisfied smirk that only Katsuki could see. On the one hand, Katsuki was pissed and would probably rave at her for being a Snitch bitch later. On the other hand, their palpable relief was well worth it. “Subsequently you’ll be having a sub for art history and modern literature and I'll be passing these names on to Present Mic for a final pass to make sure I didn’t let anything stupid get past me.”

“The name you give yourself is important. It reinforces your image and defines your ideals. Take ‘All Might’ as an example. And please, if any of you have objections or recommendations for any of your classmates, do my job for me. You will be presenting these when you’re ready.”

Aoyama raised his board above his hand and Kyoka slipped her headphones off to hear seeing as he’d ignored her player. “The Shining Hero: I can not stop twinkling. So brilliant, oui?”

“No.” Aoyama turned to Mr Aizawa, an objection on his own lips. “It’s too long. Taking time to call that out in the middle of a fight could get someone killed.”

Aoyama returned to his seat forlornly. Ashido leaned over her desk to look at his board over his shoulder.

“Why not go with something French? It would match the white knight thing you have going on,” she suggested. Aoyama perked up immediately and started muttering French words to himself. Ashido slipped out of her seat and bounded up to the podium.

“Alien Queen!” she cheered, then looked at Mr Aizawa who had a complicated expression on his face.

“I’ll allow it, for now,” he said slowly. “But I want you to think of something better in the meantime. Sadly, copyright and trademark infringement is still something we need to contend with.”

When Ashido pouted he continued. “Do you really want to be associated with a horror movie monster, a villain, for the rest of your career?”

“I’ve had this in mind since elementary school,” Tsu said. “The rainy season hero: Froppy.”

“Sure.”

“Me next! Study Hero: Red Riot.” Mr Aizawa looked Kirishima up and down, eyes locking on his hair and determined expression.

“I’ll allow it.” Kirishima pumped his fist and returned to his seat. Ashido mumbled heatedly about why Kirishima got to pay homage but she didn’t.

“Man, I still haven’t been able to think of anything cool enough,” Kaminari whined. Kyoka scoffed.

“Electricity is inherently cool and any words related to it are already cool on their own. Thunder, lightning, storm.”

“Overused.”

“Bolt, Strike, Current.”

“Sounds like a speedster name.”

“Charge, Resistor, Volt.”

“Again, too basic.”

Kyoka shrugged, “Then just put two words together and make something new.”

That seemed to spark something in Kaminari as he began jotting around on his board. Too basic, huh? Kyoka looked back at her own name, which was just the name of her quirk. It felt wrong to define herself like that, partly because it wasn’t her definition, it was her mother's; Kyoka had inherited her quirk from her. But it also felt wrong to define herself as just that considering the Soundtrack was just as important to her skills as her quirk and perhaps even more integral to who she was. She erased the name, she needed something that was hers, Soundtrack and all. Kyoka’s eyes drifted over to Katsuki almost subconsciously as she flicked her awareness over the room. Themes tinged with stress and excitement filled her ears, and if she plugged a jack into the floor she could hear Aoyama running through an impressive amount of French synonyms for things like light, sparkle and shine as he debated the merits and demerits of each.

“I like that one.” All eyes turned to her and Kyoka jolted, a light blush dusting her cheeks. She turned away from Katsuki and pointed a thumb at Aoyama, god she was going to butcher this. “Lumiere has good phonetics, it’s one word and can be shortened to Lumi in a panic or for little kids who would struggle with French.”

Katsuki scoffed and muttered ‘Snitch’ under his breath. Aoyama looked disappointed he wouldn’t be able to do a dramatic reveal but brightened and nodded when Mr Aizawa asked if that was the name he wanted to go with. That gave Kyoka an idea. She quickly jotted it down on her whiteboard and skipped up to the podium herself. She looked pointedly at Katsuki as she flipped her board around, a self-satisfied smile on her face as she heard Koji squeak to hide a snort.

“The Sonar Hero: Snitch.” Mr Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “I know shit. Too much shit.”

“The Tentacle Hero: Tentacole.” Kyoka raised her hand.

“Objection.”

“Yes, Jiro?”

“The pun only works in Japanese but regardless of that do you really want to risk the first thing people think of when they hear your name being hentai?”

Most of the class baulked at her but Shoji tilted his head thoughtfully. “I hadn't considered that. What would you recommend instead?”

Kyoka shrugged.

“Ooh, ooh! What about Kraken?” Hagakure interjected.

“Same problem. I was thinking Hydra. Cut off one head and two more grow in its place, or something related to the axolotl for a similar reason,” Kyoka suggested. Shoji nodded, altering his title to the Regenerative Hero: Hydra.

“The Taping Hero: Cellophane.”

“Martial Arts Hero: Tail-man.”

“That’s pretty basic,” Kaminari said.

“I’d like to see you do better,” Ojiro argued. Kaminari thought for a moment.

“The Martial Arts Hero: Iron Tail.”

“Oh, like a homage to the pre-quirk, mystical martial arts hero Iron Fist,” Midoriya pointed out, ever the hero nerd. That seemed to satiate Ojiro and he accepted the suggestion. Kyoka tapped Kaminari on the shoulder and leaned closer to him.

“You meant the Pokemon move, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kaminari acquiesced sheepishly.

“The Sweets Hero: Sugarman.” Sato stared at Kaminari as if daring him to object.

“It’s still basic, but I don’t have anything better,” Kaminari groused. Ashido raised her hand.

“Mr Aizawa! What if I dropped the ‘Alien’ and just kept the ‘Queen’?”

“It’s better.” Ashido’s disco theme drifted to the front of Kyoka’s mind and she found herself humming Dancing Queen in response. Kaminari went next, giving Kyoka a wink as he walked by.

“Stun Gun Hero: Chargebolt.”

“The Stealth Hero: Invisible Girl.”

“I’ll allow it but if you can think of something shorter that would be preferable.”

“I hope to live up to this name. The Everything Hero: Creati.”

“Shoto.”

“If you weren’t already in the public eye because of your father I would make a point about protecting your identity. Instead, I'll make a point about being able to separate your job and hero persona from yourself and your personal life.” Todoroki nodded and all around the class people shot their hands into the air with suggestions. Many just take a fire-related word and an ice-related word and mashed them together. Kyoka raised her own hand too.

“What about Spite or Temperance? Even if Temperance is too long it can be shortened to Temp and that’s a fun reference to the nature of your quirk.”

“But why Spite, it seems kind of out there?” Tsu asked.

“Not everything has to be a reference to or related to our quirks,” Kyoka shrugged, considering her name was more a reference to how the Soundtrack snitched to her than her decision to share that information rather than her ability to gather it and how she fights.

“I would like to think about it if that’s acceptable?” Todoroki asked.

“Sure.”

“The Jet Black Hero: Tsukuyomi. It can be shortened to Yomi or Moon if necessary.”

“Fresh-picked Hero: Grape Juice.”

“Petting Hero: Anima.”

“Bakusatsuo.” King Explosion Murder.

“It’s too long and the pun doesn’t make sense in English.”

“That’s why I want to keep it in Japanese,” Katsuki muttered but returned to his seat to workshop it. Anyone could see that he’d had that name in his pocket for a while and hadn’t expected it to ever be shot down.

“Here’s mine, Uravity.”

Iida’s theme reverts to how it was in the Soundtrack’s warning as he wrote something, erased it and wrote something else. When he revealed the board to the class it just read Tenya. He turned to Mr Aizawa who said nothing and let it be. Iida needed time.

“Midoriya,” Mr Aizawa called. Midoriya came up to the podium and hesitated before flipping the board around.

“Are you sure? That could be your name forever,” Kirishima asked.

“I’m sure.” The Soundtrack pulled Uraraka’s theme centre stage. “For the longest time, I hated it, until someone showed me it could have a different meaning and that changed the way I felt about it. From now on, only I get to define who I am. That’s why my codename has to be Deku.”

“Bakugo?” Mr Aizawa called.

“Give me time, same as Icy Hot and Four-Eyes.”

“Okay then, back to your internships. Think carefully about what you need to learn and what you want to specialise in. For those of you who didn’t get offers, you’ll choose from this list. You have two days to decide so get working. Class dismissed.”

Kyoka and Koji headed down to the clearing as Katsuki ducked into the cafeteria to pick up their lunches. Kyoka laid out the blanket while Koji distracted the cats. It seemed that Shinso wouldn’t be joining them today.

“So, who are you thinking of working with for internships?” Kyoka asked.

“I’m not sure,” Koji signed, “I need somewhere at least rural but preferably wild. I think the hero I want to be is more akin to a park ranger than a city street fighter.”

“I’m going with Best Jeanist,” Katsuki stated confidently. There was obvious pride in his voice that was often missing in moments people thought he was being an egomaniac. Whether that was because he’d gotten the attention of a top-five pro or a hero he actually respected because Endeavor can go fuck himself and doesn’t deserve his hype, or some combination of both was unclear and irrelevant.

“Because he’s ranked number four?” Koji asked.

“I don’t give a fuck about that!”

“I thought you wanted to surpass All Might?” Kyoka asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I want to be the fucking best but I don’t give a fuck about some popularity contest,” Katsuki scoffed. Kyoka tried to do mental gymnastics and arithmetic to resolve those statements but ended up drumming a blank. The only way she could rationalise them would be if Katsuki had his own internal rankings.

“Y’know, sometimes you really confuse me, Kats. But considering Endeavor is on top I understand the lack of faith in straw polls. So why do you want to work with him?” Katsuki scowled at the mention of Endeavor’s name and Koji looked between them, confused.

“Best Jeanist isn’t just a high ranking hero he also has a massive presence in the fashion industry and is an accomplished CEO practically running two companies at the same time both of which he is the face of and works full time at and both of which are highly successful. His hero career is an advertisement for his fashion just as much as his fashion promotes his hero career and makes his job easier by increasing the chance that villains will buy his own products essentially wearing the instrument of their own demise. It’s a cross media, multi-industry masterpiece.”

“Didn’t think you’d be interested in that. Doesn’t seem like your style,” Koji said.

“It’s not. My dad’s in the fashion industry so I've heard a lot about it. What about you Muse?”

“Urban area, infiltration or scouting. I'd prefer an underground hero but there aren’t any in the forty options we have. Which is simultaneously weird and understandable. I think my best bet will be Death Arms.”

Katsuki made a noise between a pained breath and a scoff and Kyoka raised an eyebrow at him. Koji sat his hands down in his lap and waited. It was an invitation to talk about things, but also a reminder of their refusal to push or pry. Besides, between the two of them they can read the silences extraordinarily well; ‘silences’ in Kyoka’s case.

“He relies too much on his quirk so I doubt he’ll help you much with what we’ve been working on. But his agency does deal with hold-ups and hostages more frequently,” he said out loud. Meanwhile, his hands said something different. “He left me because my quirk wasn’t a good matchup. I don’t like him much.”

Kyoka shuffled around to bump her shoulder against Katsuki’s while Koji pressed a closed fist to the side of Katsuki’s knee. Katsuki responded by knocking his head against Kyoka’s, a light clack when they hit each other that made her teeth rattle, and nudging Koji’s first away with his knee.

“Don’t mind if you go. Probably a better teacher than All Might anyway.” Kyoka snorted and Koji snickered, letting the sentimental air disappear.

Chapter Text

Kyoka waited for Death Arms down in the lobby of his agency as the receptionist had directed her. Her backpack sat on her lap while her hero costume case sat flush between her legs, though she’d taken the headset and controller out to help manage the regular sounds in the face of all the new themes floating around. As well as sync to the agency’s radio frequencies. She’d taken to her phone, alternating between texting a variety of her classmates who were still in transit to their work studies and reading. She tracked the people entering the building by their themes, quiet and unfocused, adding steadily to the white noise.

Eventually, a theme that the Soundtrack pulled to the front of her attention cropped up, which she took note to memorise. Kyoka looked up to find Death Arms entering; he quickly noticed her attention and said something Kyoka couldn’t hear. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of taking off her headset to ask him to repeat himself. Death Arms’ head turned to the receptionist, and he brought a hand up to his radio earpiece.

“Hey, kid. Can you hear me?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Kyoka replied, standing up and picking up her bags.

“Good, go get changed and meet me back here for patrol in ten,” he ordered.

“Um, sir,” Kyoka called, “get changed where?”

“Oh, whoops,” Death Arms rattled off the directions to the locker rooms for her, Kyoka getting up and moving as he talked to save time. Shortly afterwards, she joined Death Arms in the lobby to begin a patrol, and he quickly started putting her through her paces. Quite literally, too. They started jogging through the streets, incorporating cardio exercises like walking lunges and high knees. She struggled to keep up at times, and Kyoka had a sinking suspicion that he was paying less attention to their surroundings than she was, and she was essentially deaf at the moment. Death Arms slowed to a brisk walk, allowing Kyoka to catch up.

“So, why are we doing this?” she asked conversationally.

“A hero should always be training, even when on patrol,” Death Arms replied, hand up by his ears.

“I meant patrol. The cardio is good for stamina, and stamina is good for maintaining strength throughout a patrol,” Kyoka explained. Her eyes darted back and forth across the streets around them. A theme layered deep in the Soundtrack was setting her on edge—a hunter stalking its prey.

“That’s easy! We patrol to reassure the people and discourage crime with our presence,” Death Arms laughed.

“I doubt that,” Kyoka muttered, looking up at her mentor, “you know you can keep the line open, so you don’t have to keep your hand on the button.”

Death Arms fumbled to hide his incompetence by calling out her first statement. The theme was getting louder now as they walked further down the street. It was probably coming from an alley nearby. Poking out from under it was another theme, panicked and scared, that the first was trying to suppress.

“Oh, there’s no doubt that a hero’s presence reassures the people they’re safe. It’s just unlikely to discourage crime. All it does is move when and where a crime occurs. Criminals aren’t stupid after all; if they want to commit a crime, they’ll just do it somewhere out of sight and earshot of the patrolling heroes, and the ones who do it in the open are either spontaneous, just that desperate or don’t care. Case in point, most crimes happen at night, and there are fewer underground and night shift heroes than there are daylight and day shift,” Kyoka elaborated. Death Arms passed an alleyway and a pitched sharp(#) note rang out in Kyoka’s ears like a shrill organ. Kyoka stopped in front of it, staring into its shadowed depths. The first theme quickly swallowed the note. Everyone else on the street walked by without care, so Kyoka could only assume she was the only one who could hear a thing.

“How can you be so sure?” Death Arms looked back at Kyoka, just noticing she was no longer keeping pace. A memory of empty eyes, hollow and unseeing, overtook her, and she bolted down the ally like a rocket. “Kid!”

Kyoka could hear Death Arms following after her, and she hoped his presence would be enough to stop whatever was happening. She slid around the corner into an off-shoot alley to find a man pinning a woman to the wall, a hand over her mouth to silence her.

“Hey!” she called. The man’s head snapped to look at her surprised, the moment of distraction enough to allow the woman to push him away from her and run towards Kyoka. He stumbled back a few steps but, still standing, he hurried to recapture her. Then Death Arms caught up with Kyoka, and the man immediately turned to run the other way. Death Arms charges after he and Kyoka rushed to check on the victim. She was panicking, so Kyoka pulled her into a side hug, rubbing soothing circles on her back and getting her to breathe. Death Arms quickly caught up and pinned the man, handcuffing him before tossing the man over his shoulder. He returned to Kyoka and the victim.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” he asked. The lady flinched into Kyoka’s side, and Kyoka waved Death Arms away to call the authorities.

“Recommend dispatching female paramedics and officers if they can. Priority on the paramedics,” Kyoka murmured through the comms. Death Arms looked back at her from the mouth of the alley and gave her a solemn nod.

Eventually, the police and paramedics arrived, Death Arms handing off the criminal while Kyoka helped the victim into the ambulance with whispered reassurances. The one female cop joined the woman in Kyoka’s place. By then, a small crowd had gathered around the mouth of the alley, having noticed Death Arms standing there with a man tied up over his shoulder. He politely extricated himself to join Kyoka and convinced the crowd that nothing was happening and that they should move on.

“That’s how you’re sure. Isn’t it?” he asked as they continued down the street to continue the patrol. Kyoka didn’t say anything, but she figured her silence said enough. Memories of hollow eyes unseeing and pools of red made her look away from him. She saw Death Arms’ hand clenched into a fist and his entire body locked up. “How often do you hear things like that?”

“Every day, and I wish I didn’t. I wish I could tell someone, and they’d get there in time, but they never can or never even do it in the first place. I wish I wasn’t ignored when I tried until I gave up on trying. I wish I could do something instead of hearing suffering all around me and being forced to stand aside.”

“That’s why you’re here.”

“That’s why I’m here. They may not know it yet, but there’s a Snitch in their midst.”

“Hey, kid, why don’t you take the lead?”

When they returned to the agency, Death Arms had one of his sidekicks show Kyoka how to fill in an incident report before letting her call it a day. She went to bed with an unfamiliar satisfaction inside of her. The next day passed in much of the same way, and Kyoka thought the third day would end up more of the same when she felt the Soundtrack juggling something low and ominous somewhere far away that it wanted her to be aware of but didn’t feel like she needed to touch. Still, considering the track record of their class so far and the fact the Soundtrack wouldn’t let her pinpoint learn more, Kyoka pulled out her phone and texted each of her classmates a quick ‘good luck, stay safe’. She paused when she came to Iida’s contact, adding a ‘don’t do anything stupid’ and ‘we’re here for you’ to her message.

Chapter Text

That night, Kyoka woke up in a cold sweat, gasping desperately for breath, not from a nightmare but from a really present theme piercing her subconscious, lobbed like a spear from wherever the Soundtrack stems. It was the musical sting she recognised from the Sports Festival, except it was more apparent now, and she hated that she knew what it meant without even having to break it down.

Four notes.

Four notes that anyone with an above-average knowledge of Sweeny Todd would know the significance of, much less, a thematic composer.

It was musical death.

Kyoka had the Dies Irae twisting between her ears for the first time in her life. Then, Kyoka recalled where she first heard that theme. The Sports Festival, where she was nowhere near death, but at around the same time, someone else probably would have been. Iida Tensei, but he didn't die, so either ancient death represented Tensei or it represented Stain, and anyone who bet against Stain here was both an idiot and a sucker.

Kyoka scrambled for her phone, hoping to find something on the news from Hosu. Only to find that everything the news was covering right now was from Hosu as Nomu were running around trashing the ward, but the Soundtrack had said nothing about the League. Kyoka could only assume that this was unrelated or coincidental or something.

Her train of thought was interrupted when she got a weird text from Midoriya. Stain's sting rang out again in time with her notification alert. He had sent a GPS PIN of his location to all his contacts via a mass text. The first thing she noticed about it was that it was from Hosu, too. She compared it to the location details from the newscasts. They were on opposite sides of the ward.

Midoriya was fighting Stain.

Kyoka pulled up the news footage and searched through some of it.

There's Manual!

But no, Iida, and considering everything that's been going on, he's probably gone and done something stupid. She kept watching the news and saw a burst of flame as Endeavor showed up also to fight the Nomu. But Todoroki was nowhere to be seen, and Kyoka could only hope he'd gotten Midoriya's text and gone to help.

Kyoka bit her lip as she considered telling somebody, anybody, that her classmates were in danger. Because as much as she believed in them, if they fail, if they die, and she did nothing when she could have made a difference? Then, she would never forgive herself. But she had to believe in them like no one had believed in her.

This wasn't about hiding the Soundtrack or avoiding being called crazy. What stopped her from making a move was all the times she played the snitch, even to people who knew how much she could hear if not why, and was ignored. Because if she did everything she could and that made no difference, she wouldn't just never forgive herself; she'd lose faith entirely. Memories of hollow eyes-

Iron hit Kyoka's tongue, snapping her out of her downward spiral as she found she'd bitten through her lip. She flopped back to take stock only to find that the Soundtrack had left her in a dead, unusual and uncomfortable silence. And for once, it wasn't too much stimulation that had her panicking but a lack of it.

The Soundtrack had blocked her out, and Kyoka tried to ignore this, desperately pushing past the wall of silence to track Stain's sting, Midoriya's theme, Iida's theme, or Todoroki's theme for even an ounce of information. She ignored the buzzing behind her eyes, the pressure against her temples, and the heat rising in her head until dark spots floated behind her. Eventually, she found she couldn't hold on anymore as she kept pushing the Soundtrack further and further out, and she passed out from a mixture of pain and exhaustion. The last thing she was aware of as she fell unconscious was the slow chiming of an unfamiliar tune emanating softly from what sounded like a music box.

When Kyoka woke up the next day, she was still exhausted and had a pounding headache. But the Soundtrack was back, even if it was quieter to accommodate her stupid decisions. She dragged herself out of the room she was assigned, too tired even to bother checking her phone for any news of the aftermath of the Hosu incident and trusting that if things went south, the Soundtrack would have told her by now. When Death Arms saw her, he had to do a double take, looking her up and down with concern.

Kyoka had heavy bags under her eyes that were so dark you could see them through her glare-reducing grease to the point that they looked like bruises. At that moment, as he poured a cup of coffee to give to Kyoka before serving himself, he decided that he never wanted to hear the things she had to. Death Arms passed her a coffee.

"You okay there, Snitch?" he asked. Kyoka took a swig of coffee without regard or reaction to its heat.

"No." her voice was rough and raspy, and Death Arms decided to take things easy today. "Rough night."

It's the day before Kyoka's supposed to leave, and they're out on patrol again when Death Arms gets a call from the local police force. Snitch taps into the conversation to hear it for herself.

"Death Arms, we have a situation at the mall, a hold-up at the jewellery store with hostages. We don't have a visual, so we cannot confirm the number of villains or civilians involved, but we have them pinned out front. Report immediately to flank."

"Right." Death Arms switched to the agency frequencies. "Ueda, reroute and meet me at the mall. We have a hostage situation."

"No visual, but that's not going to be a problem for you, right, kid?" Death Arms smirked, turning to Snitch.

"No, sir. Not when there's a Snitch in play." Death Arms let out a hearty laugh and slapped her on the back a little too hard, causing Snitch to stumble forward and have to catch herself quickly. He changed directions, taking off towards the mall and trusting Snitch to keep up behind him.

When they arrived on site, Death Arms's sidekick was already there waiting for them. His costume was derivative of his boss's in a way that made Snitch unsure whether this was the 'standard uniform' for Death Arms field agents or if this one guy was a bit of a big fan. Either way, when he spotted his boss, the sidekick stood to attention and saluted before dutifully reporting that there had been no movement on either end.

"Then let's put the Snitch into play." Death Arms nodded for Snitch to take the lead. She knelt by the door and plugged a jack into the wall. "What have we got?"

"Two hostages, male. They aren't restrained and have been confined to an area on the right side of the room. Three villains, one at the door, one watching the hostages from the centre of the room and the third is off in a side room on the left," she reported before removing the jack.

"All right. We're breaking in," Death Arms said, positioning himself to charge directly through the door and in the direct path of the man watching the hostages. "Snitch, escort the hostages out once we've engaged."

"Right." Death Arms gestured to his sidekick before charging through the double doors, knocking them off their hinges. He tried to tackle the villain closest to the hostages, missing but positioning himself between the villains and their hostages, allowing the hostages to run past and towards her.

"Please come this way," Snitch called, "I'll escort you outside."

Snitch let the two men go ahead of her and called out directions from behind them for the fastest route out of the building.

Chapter Text

A pink hand flew in front of Kyoka's face, moving up and down rapidly. Kyoka pulled down her headset and raised an eyebrow at Ashido, bored and unimpressed. It was still early; the students who had arrived were scattered haphazardly around the room, chatting. Sero and Kirishima were laughing at Katsuki at the front of the room. Kaminari and Mineta were lounging towards the back, Tokoyami and Koji were chatting with Iida, and Todoroki and Midoriya were clustered around Todoroki's desk, whispering. Though the pair stopped talking immediately when they noticed Kyoka had removed her headphones, it looked like they really didn't want anyone eavesdropping. Meanwhile, Ashido was leaning over Kyoka's desk, Tsu off beside her, and Uraraka was not far away.

"So, did you do anything interesting during your internship?" Ashido asked.

"Stopped an attempted assault of some kind and intervened in a hostage situation," Kyoka replied, ticking both events off on her fingers.

"You got to face real villains? Jealous!" Ashido cried with an exaggerated whine. Kyoka leaned away from her subconsciously.

"One, not a villain, just some scumbag trying to take advantage of a vulnerable woman in a dark alley where no one would find them. Two, I didn't fight any villains; I evacuated civilians and ran logistics."

"But it still sounds like so much fun." Kyoka was going to snap at Ashido. A woman could have been raped and two men killed, but instead, all of them were probably deeply traumatised. Did that really sound like fun to her? Luckily for the other girl, Tsu interjected with her own experiences.

"I spent most of my time training and cleaning the ship's deck. Though we did catch some international smugglers."

"Okay, now that's intense," Kyoka allowed.

"What about you, Ochako? How was your week?" Uraraka still seemed a little out of it, shadow-boxing an unseen foe. Kyoka tuned out again and was about to put her headphones back on when attention slipped to the trio at the back of the room and the hero killer.

"You guys are so lucky Endeavor came to save you," Sato said. Todoroki's theme faltered as he tensed, and Kyoka scoffed under her breath.

"Yeah, right," she mumbled. Only Shoji reacted to what she'd said, having heard her on his way into the classroom, he looked over at her in confusion.

"Did you hear the news?" Ojiro asked. "They say he was working with the League of Villains."

Kyoka scoffed again and, again, only Shoji caught it. "What's wrong, Jiro?"

Kyoka was startled at being caught out. She knew he could hear her, but Shoji calling her on it was throwing her off guard. She wasn't used to anyone paying her any mind but elaborated anyway. "I doubt that he was. The news doesn't know what we know about the League, does it? I mean, you've seen the video, right? Stain believes All Might is the only true hero, the only one he thinks deserves to live, while the League wanted to kill All Might. I can't see them working together."

"Speaking of the video!" Kaminari interjected. "He was so tenacious it came right back around to being cool. Even if he was mega evil, right?"

"Kaminari!" Midoriya scolded. Then Kaminari recalled Iida was present and realised his faux pas.

"Oops. Sorry, dude." Kyoka smirked and slipped her headphones back on just as Iida began his highly motivated tirade.

Kirishima went up to Katsuki to ask if he wanted to join them for lunch, but it was apparent the blonde was still pissed at him for what he and Sero did that morning as he stomped away from his red-headed friend. Footsteps as purposefully loud as he could make them. Kyoka headed to the cafeteria to pick up lunch. Walking to the counter, she heard Shinso's theme approach her. It was different than before, still recognisable by the ticking clock and the melody, but the demonic children were gone, and the tempo had picked up. A theremin now carried the seven-note melody once hummed by a little girl. Kyoka took a deep breath to steel herself as she prepared to turn, noise cancelling off to hear what Shinso might say. She hoped it was early enough in the period that the room wouldn't be so loud.

"I've always wondered who those were for. Hey, is that invitation still open?" he asked, a box of his own food in his hand as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Kyoka could feel part of Lunch Rush's attention focused on them as if evaluating whether or not he was going to have to make a fourth colour-coded, tape-marked (based on dietary restrictions) lunch box.

"Was your plan really just to stand here and wait for one of us to show up?" Kyoka asked lightly, gesturing for Shinso to follow her out of the cafeteria.

"Not really, just you," Shinso admitted. "I get that they would have objected when you offered, but… well, y'know."

"You're using me as a shield and a scapegoat," Kyoka finished snidely. "What a great start to this friendship. I'm glad to know where we stand."

She offered Shinso a bright but predatory smile to make sure he knew she was joking, and he gave her an uncertain quirk of his lips in return. His face quickly returns to its neutral, tired expression.

"I'm not here to make friends."

"Hah, good luck with that Zombozo!" Katsuki barked, catching the tail end of the conversation as Kyoka and Shinso entered the clearing. "At least one group of extras will latch onto you like a parasite until you grudgingly retain information about them by osmosis. Then another will pull you in just so you can have an escape."

"Oh, so I guess you're the parasites," Shinso sniped back. Koji feigned a dramatised hurt reaction, and Katsuki scowled, flipping Shinso the bird. The manic smirk on his face revealed that he was actually enjoying the banter. Shinso sat down on the last edge of the blanket so that he was opposite Kyoka and completed their little circle. They lapsed into silence as they ate until Kyoka raised her hands towards Katsuki.

"Hey Kat, how was your internship? I heard from Beetle when we talked over text, but you were radio silent."

"Fuck Best Jeanist," he replied aloud as he put his chopsticks down to sign. Shinso was startled and looked between Kyoka and Katsuki, confused. Katsuki's hands shook, and he continued to speak aloud. "One of the first things he did when I met him was tie me up with his quirk."

Kyoka looked pointedly between Katsuki and Shinso. Katsuki shrugged without commitment in response. It was Koji who spoke next, his quiet voice hard. "After the Sports Festival, before the awards ceremony, Midnight and Cementoss tried to chain him up for being upset when he had every right to be without trying to de-escalate the situation first."

Shinso's eyes widened. "Holy shit, is that why they were suspended a week back?"

Kyoka nodded, then added, "Point of note, they had him in a muzzle, too."

Shinso stilled, his theme silencing itself and only the demonic jeering children retaking its place. Katsuki exhaled heavily and gestured to Kyoka.

"The bitch Snitched to some fucker about it. Mr Aizawa held me back after class one day to talk about it. Had the damned muzzle in hand while he made some spiel about 'never again' then smashed the thing."

Katsuki forced his hands to move. "Best Jeanist looked at me like I was some broken thing that needed correction. Like everything about me as an individual was wrong. He said it was his 'duty' to change me. It was suffocating. He never touched my face, but it was suffocating."

"It's like he has a specific vision for a 'hero' that he believes no one can stay from even if that isn't true or necessary for success," Kyoka elaborated. "Well fuck him. Fuck what he said, be your own hero. So what if most aren't like you? If there are no heroes, then become one."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Koji asked.

"It's one of the reasons I wanted to become a hero. I looked at all the top heroes in Japan and couldn't find one I could click with and look up to, y'know?"

"All Might?" Katsuki asked in a tone that said, 'Duh, obviously'. Kyoka rolled her eyes.

"Don't get me wrong. He's a great hero, but he isn't someone I would aspire to be like. He isn't my symbol, right? What I mean is that, well. Name me a feminine hero that doesn't accentuate their sexuality at least or hyper-sexualise themselves at worst."

"You're right. I can't," Katsuki deadpanned.

"Okay, that's it," Shinso interjected, his frustration reaching a boiling point. "I've missed half of this conversation here, but if you invited me to eat with you and then use sign to communicate because you're afraid of my quirk, then you didn't have to invite me at all."

Katsuki looked about, ready to blow up at him, but Kyoka put her hand on his to get him to check himself. Then, she drew herself up to match Shinso's energy.

"Well, someone's self-centred," Kyoka drawled, "I mean, do you think we'd just pick up sign over two weeks to avoid speaking to you directly? If you haven't noticed, Koji's selectively mute, and this is just how he prefers to communicate. And I have noise-cancelling headphones on most of the time, so of course, I know sign when contact is a no-go, and it's the only way to get my attention. But we're sorry if we made you feel excluded."

"I, you… you are so hard to react to sometimes," Shinso complained. "I think you're going to zig, but then you zag, and even when you put on the attitude, you somehow bring it back to sincere."

"Right!" Katsuki crowed. "Thirty per cent of the reason I stick around."

"So I'm guessing you learned to sign for them," Shinso said, voice light.

"Like hell! Explosions plus unprotected ears mean I'm going deaf the more I use my quirk. I already have hearing aids. Besides, it's good for hero work, silent communication that most average villains are unlikely to know," Katsuki shot back.

"He also finds it easier to be emotionally vulnerable or sentimental when he doesn't have to hear himself say it," Kyoka deadpanned. Katsuki gave her a scathing glare. "What? You're the one who thinks admitting you like your friends is less vulnerable or sensitive information than the disability your parents pretend you don't have and spend a fortune hiding from everybody, including the kid who you've known since 'diapers'."

"She's right, and you can't really be mad at her," Koji grinned. Katsuki stuck a thumb at Kyoka, sharing a commiserating look with Shinso.

"Look, I'm sorry. Habits and ingrained assumptions are hard to break," Shinso says, rubbing the back of his neck again. "You think, if I stick around, you could teach me some sign too?"

Koji perked up, eyes bright and nodded happily.

Chapter Text

Right after lunch, they had hero training with All Might, who took them to a new training field on U.A’’s grounds.

“Hope you’re ready for today’s lesson!” All Might called. “Here at training ground Gamma, we’re going to be doing something more fun. So show off everything you’ve learnt. It’s rescue race time!”

All Might then explained the premise of the exercise. In groups of five, they would race against each other to reach All Might from different starting positions. Whoever got there first would win. Then the teacher, not so subtly, pointed at Bakugo.

“Remember that this is a rescue so try to keep the property damage to a bare minimum please.”

“Why are you pointing at me,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Yeah, Todoroki and Ashido,” Kyoka pointedly called, both to lure attention away from Katsuki and call out All Might’s blatant discrimination. “That means no ice ramps or skate paths and no melting holes in concrete.”

The first group up was Midoriya, Ashido, Iida, Sero and Ojiro. Barring Midoriya, it was a group that specialised in speed and mobility, making it seem like he would be at a massive disadvantage, which made Kyoka wonder if All Might was playing favourites, too. The way Midoriya and All Might’s themes reminded her of the other made her wonder if All Might knew more about Midoriya than either let on and if that went both ways. Iida was still recovering from injuries and Sero had the advantage by being able to go above the labyrinthine city. Then the race started, and the drones' live streaming feed of the city to the viewing area followed Sero, who had launched himself into first place. But pretty quickly Midoriya had caught up and passed Sero as he leapt and bounded across pipes and rooftops. The way he moved was extremely reminiscent of how Katsuki moved, in the way that he copied the style and technique but not the reasons behind it or adjusted it for a different body type.

“Hey, Bakugo!'' Kyoka called, knowing he was lurking at the back of the group. “How much parkour do you know?”

“Basics,” he grunted, “it wasn’t a sport I picked up, and most of what I do know is self-taught.”

“I'll trade you for all those kickboxing lessons.”

“Why the fuck do you know parkour,” he asked but notably didn’t say no. Koji cocked his head, and Katsuki looked over at him. Kyoka was unable to see what they were doing from her position at the front of the group sitting beside Yaoyorozu.

“Have you seen her aesthetic?” Off to the side, Hagakure buzzed with excitement that Kyoka could only pick up from the Soundtrack. Similarly, Kirishima's theme drooped.

“Deku’s doing so well!” Uraraka gushed, leaning forward.

“Maybe,” Kyoka allowed. She heard Midoriya's theme panic before the video showed him slip and fall, “but his pathing needs a little work. Midoriya is trying to move like Katsuki but hasn’t compensated for the fact that he’s shorter and lighter than Bakugo, at least when Bakugo has his support gear on.”

Katsuki huffed, and his posture relaxed, the comparison making him more comfortable with the development. Then, he added his own thoughts to the mix. “The nerd isn’t taking advantage of how he can launch perpendicular to the surface he’s on either. It would save him energy if he did.”

Because of Midoriya’s misstep, Sero ended up winning, with Midoriya coming in last as he struggled to get back up to the rooftops. All Might presented Sero with a ribbon and gave the students a speech that the drones didn’t pick up before calling the next group to enter Ground Gamma and begin the exercise. The next group to try the exercise consisted of Shoji Tokoyami, Mineta, Tsu and Aoyama. Shoji traversed the grounds much like Ojiro had, taking advantage of his greater grip and upper body strength. Aoyama had great horizontal mobility, but going up made him a lot slower. Mineta could climb, but his height, or lack of it, put him at a disadvantage when it came to horizontal movement. Dark Shadow’s range and physical attachment to Tokoyami helped the bird-headed boy over the obstacles, but the speed at which they moved was dependent on Tokoyami himself, who was notably a stationary fighter. In the end, it was Tsu who won as she was able to stick to and climb walls with ease, could jump higher and further than any of her opponents and could use her tongue to grapple to further and higher places. The race after that was Sato, Uraraka, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu and Hagakure. Where Todoroki was the victor by creating a glacier on top of a rooftop with Yaoyorozu in a close second because of her versatility in using a grappling hook to go up and pole vault across gaps. Finally, the last race was between herself, Katsuki, Koji, Kirishima and Kaminari, which everyone could see was hilariously unbalanced.

Kyoka chose to start on a rooftop, already planning the path she’d take in the direction she could hear All Might’s theme coming from. She knew that Katsuki would also start on the rooftops, while Koji, Kirishima and Kaminari would choose to start on the ground. From the sounds of things, Koji was resigned to losing this one, as was Kaminari though he was still going to try and Kirishima, the eternal optimist, was going to charge through any obstacle and give it his all. To be fair, Kyoka wasn’t going to back down either, even though she knew Katsuki would win anyway. Kyoka zipped her jacket up in anticipation, tapping the toe of her shoe against the ground before lowering herself into a running position. When All Might activated his beacon they all took off, Kyoka strode right towards the set of pipes in front of her, using a cat pass to push her body over them and across the gap between the first set of pipes and the next further along the roof. Then she followed the pipes moving forwards which she used to launch herself up into an arm grab and onto a higher rooftop. After that rooftop she jumped off the edge and onto a lower roof, rolling as she hit the ground to spread the force of the impact. She used a tic tac to push off of a wall and onto a fire escape that let her reach a pipe she could shimmy up to the top of another roof and now she had to make her pathing up on the fly. As she slid under an air duct she saw Katsuki blast himself forward in mid-air off to the right and he caught her eye with a challenging smirk. Kyoka laughed and started running faster, using vaults to maintain and increase her momentum when she heard Katsuki come down for a landing before he could blast off again.

As they neared All Might, Kyoka and Katsuki saw where Katsuki could take an easy lead and ultimately win. Katsuki was fully capable of blasting himself up to where All Might was, while Kyoka would have to take a little longer to find a way to climb. It was moments like this where she’d really like those base boots. As they both neared the building Kyoka spotted two ducts running parallel to each other up against a wall that would lead up to All Might’s position, it would be risky but it would certainly save her the time of finding an incline. For the hell of it, she changed her run path so that she could come at one of the ducts from an angle instead of head-on. Bakugo came in for a landing on a nearby rooftop. He took a few strides before trying to cat pass over a pipe, using it as a surface on which his explosions’ recoil could launch him higher. He flew towards the wall of the building, feet first, repositioning one of his hands in mid-air to create another explosion that changed his body angle and left the other hand free to grab the edge of the roof. However, his choice to only use one hand put his vector at an angle. Meanwhile, Kyoka hit the first duct and began to wall jump between the two to get her a little higher but quickly reached her limit so she wrapped one arm around the air duct entirely so she could shimmy to the other side and jump around the building’s corner, dropping down on the balcony bellow it. At this point, Bakugo had dragged himself up onto the rooftop. Kyoka took a breath and walked back to the edge of the balcony before rushing at the wall, placing a foot against it and using that to jump up and grab the edge of the roof so that she could pull herself up.

“Well done, young Bakugo!” All Might’s voice boomed. “Your precision is impeccable.”

Katsuki huffed and turned away, his shoulders tensing like he was a bristling cat before he rested a hand awkwardly on an area between his chest and stomach but only on his left side. When All Might turned away from them to keep an eye out for the remaining three competitors, Katsuki wandered over to stand by Kyoka, who was still catching her breath.

“You didn’t do any wall runs,” Katsuki signed.

“I’m not any good at it, and my boots aren’t made with that kind of grit. Those two factors combined with the height we’re at? Forget it,” Kyoka shot back. She looked Katsuki up and down, taking note of how he was holding himself, shoulders slightly hunched, guided by a prompt from the Soundtrack that told her he was in pain.

Eventually, Kirishima, Kaminari and then Koji opened the door to the roof’s bulkhead, having run up the stairs instead of doing anything crazy. Katsuki gets presented with the sash, and All Might escorted them back to the rest of the class.

“Bakugo, that was so manly!” Kirishima complemented, swinging around to Bakugo’s side and throwing an arm around his shoulder to bring him in for a side hug, “Bro, you just went boom boom boom it was like you were flying!”

“Get the fuck off of me, Shitty Hair!” Bakugo screamed into Kirishima's face, shrugging the other’s shoulder off and stomping ahead of the redhead.

“Aw, don’t be like that, bro; I'm just trying to say that you were really cool and impressive,'' Kirishima whined, missing how that made Bakugo tense up further.

“Of course, I'm fucking impressive, I'm the fucking best!” he shouted, head turned to the sky. Kyoka imagined that if he didn’t have his hero costume on right now, his hands would be buried in the pockets of his pants. Kyoka and Koji shared a look while their classmates brushed Bakugo’s reaction off as his usual brash demeanour.

“Hey Bakugo,'' Kyoka called. Bakugo turned back to look at her, his bottom lip jutted out in an expression that was one part snarl and one part pout. “You mistimed your explosion on that last cat pass, the one with the pipe. It threw off your next boost and caused you to bash your rib cage against the edge of the roof.”

The facade he used to hide his pain cracked, and Kirishima, who was the closest person to Katsuki in two senses, automatically assumed he was going to break out in raging fury. Kirishima slid in between Kyoka and Bakugo, trying to block her from his vision, a hand reaching out to grasp one of Bakugo’s shoulders, jostling it, the same one he was using to apply pressure to his bruised lower rib cage. Bakugo hid a wince and removed his hand to smack Kirishima's hand off of him.

“Hey Bakugo, buddy. Jiro was just trying to help. You did great”

“You don’t have to be so hard on him, Jiro,” Kaminari said, “he still won.”

“Barely,” Bakugo spat out, “Ears was on me the entire fucking time.”

“Only because your explosions were smaller to minimise the amount of damage you created using them to launch yourself. That’s why you only used them when you were already up in the air, which made your trajectory a bit unstable, and that’s why you went bonk.”

Katsuki sucked in a deep breath that stuttered off when the movement hurt, and Kyoka raised an eyebrow at him pointedly.

“Moth says it because she loves you,” Koji signed from around Kyoka’s body, catching on faster than the rest of their classmates because he trusted Kyoka’s judgement.

“Take them out, and we’ll go to the nurse after you change.”

“You’re using technical terms,'' Katsuki replied stiffly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Snitch Bitch. Tomorrow, lunch, show me.”

“Done,” Kyoka nodded. Kirishima and Kaminari stared at Bakugo in wide-eyed surprise as he turned and walked away. Then a bright smile returned to Kirishima’s face as he and Kaminari rushed after their friend animatedly.

As soon as the girls were in the relative privacy of the changing rooms, Kyoka was jumped at her locker by Ashido. At this point, Kyoka didn't need the Soundtrack to know that Hagakure was standing next to Ashido, naked, in an attempt to pen her in without making it look like that’s what they were doing. But she tapped the Soundtrack anyway to see if Hagakure moved.

“So, Katsuki, huh?” Ashido smirked suggestively, leaning into Kyoka’s space. Kyoka scoffed, swinging her locker open sharply to force Ashido to jump back to avoid getting hit.

“I called Kaminari ‘Denks’ once, I've been calling Yaoyorozu ‘Princess’ since the USJ incident and I default to calling Koji by his first name. But sure, let’s focus on Bakugo Katsuki,'' Kyoka said as she took her jacket and belt off and put her combat headphones away. “That is both heteronormative and reductive of you.”

“That’s not important,” Ashido continued with a wave, peering around Kyoka's locker, “the important part is that he didn’t blow you up for saying it!”

“He likes you,'' Hagakure sang, Kyoka stilled and tilted her head back. The quiet plucking of ‘is you is or is you ain’t my baby’ caught her attention, slowly becoming more complex and Kyoka grew suspicious that Mineta was up to something. Kyoka stepped away from her locker, ignoring Ashido and Hagakure’s bickering about giving away their plan. Kyoka placed her hands on what she assumed were Hagakure’s shoulders and pushed her aside, approaching the wall between the girls' and boys’ locker rooms where the theme was at its loudest. She plugged a jack into it as she ran a hand over the wall’s surface.

“Kyoka, what are you doing?” Yaoyorozu asked. Her locker was the closest to the wall.

“Mineta’s talking about a peephole,” Kyoka hissed. Her fingers found the edge of the hole, and she stuck her jack through it. Unfortunately, she was treated to his very lewd ramblings about her classmate’s bodies before her jack made contact and shut him up, his scream was audible even without her level of hearing. Next time she dared Monoma to try her, Mineta would be able to tell him exactly how it felt to be stabbed by a jack. On the bright side, Mineta had distracted Hagakure and Ashido for now, and they rushed off to begin getting dressed. Kyoka put on a little show with her jack for the boys as she waited for Yaoyorozu to make an epoxy injector to fill in the hole. She reared her jack up like a snake and had it scan the room back and forth, daring the other boys to try, before slipping the jack back through when Yaoyorozu was ready to patch it up.

Kyoka was the first to finish getting changed, the end of the school day, meaning she hadn’t bothered to wash her makeup off or put her tie or blazer on. She wouldn’t admit that she just wanted to get out of there as much as possible, head full of dirty fingernails and heart-wrenching cries, hollow eyes that watched her unseeing. When she left the room she found Katsuki outside waiting for her.

“You okay?”

Kyoka sighed tiredly, “I’m fine.”

“You gonna Snitch?” he asked. To anyone unfamiliar with him, it would have sounded threatening, creating an implication he condoned Mineta’s behaviour, but Kyoka did know better, and most of the eavesdropping class knew enough to know Bakugo’s vague and cagey wording was not an endorsement. Kyoka gripped her arms, she wanted to dig fingernails into her skin, rip away layers of flesh and reveal the vitality beneath but the long sleeves of her uniform stopped that.

“The other girls don’t want to.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Katsuki replied. Kyoka’s attention drifted to take count of who their eavesdroppers were, if it were just Koji or Tokoyami this conversation would be so much easier.

“Only believed me because of corroboration and video evidence. No video in the locker rooms, no one else making reports, no dice.”

“Bull-fucking-shit,” Katsuki snarled. Kyoka shrugged, trying to push the memory of hollow eyes from her mind.

“I’m not the most believable of people, Katsuki. I'm sensitive and prone to mishearing things. It’s hearsay.'' Katsuki scowled in the direction of the girl’s locker room. Kyoka tapped his forehead.

“I’m fine,” she reminded him before turning to go back to class and gather her stuff to head home.

Chapter Text

At lunch the next day, Shinso joined Koji in the glade to take the opportunity to nap with the cats. Meanwhile, Kyoka and Katsuki headed to one of U.A.’s many gyms to follow through on that promise to go over some parkour with him. Their exams were still pretty far off, but practising another skill could still prove beneficial.

“A cat pass essentially has you launching over a gap or an obstacle by diving towards it and placing both hands on the thing you’re going over. It's also been known as the Kong vault or the monkey vault if you want to be more accurate about what it does anyway," Kyoka explained as she dragged a vault block into position and walked the set up of the vault for him. Even though she knew he didn’t need the walk-through, going through the process helped her rationalise what she was saying. “Your technique was fine. But I can’t really criticise it in full without seeing how you land, and I couldn’t give it my full attention, considering I was running too. The real problem was when you tried to add power to the vault with your explosion. The explosion actually caused you to flip and rush at the wall feet first, not head first like you expected.”

She stepped away from Katsuki and launched herself into a proper cat pass over the block she had set up, sticking the landing on the other side. Then she turned around and ran the jump again, swinging her legs up so she ended up transitioning from what was supposed to be a cat pass into a dash vault, but without the second touch that would make it a Kash, to simulate what happened with Katsuki and causing her to land on her ass on the other side of the block. He’d actually turned the other way, but Kyoka was taught by a parkourist, not a free runner, so her experience with flips was pretty limited, and it was hard for her to incorporate without conscious set-up or prior practice.

“So where would I put in an explosion to stop that?” Katsuki asked, reaching out a hand to help her up onto her feet.

“Not sure,” Kyoka shrugged. Katsuki scowled at her, and she raised her hands in surrender. “Fluid dynamics and rocket science are your thing, Kats. I just have practical experience. Though I do have an alternative setup you could try. Two, actually.”

“So. If you’re spinning like that because of the cat pass’ compact form, you could go for a wider dive instead like you’re going to do a double kong. Then, explode on the block, pushing off for the first kong and replacing the second kong and the second contact point with a second explosion. Or just use one explosion where the double kong should be.”

“What’s a double kong?”

“Help me set up another block less than a metre away from the first, and I'll show you.”

They spent a half hour in the gym going over the double kong without using their quirks, mostly because the gym and the equipment they were using weren’t designed to withstand their use. Kyoka started by demonstrating a double kong for Katsuki a few times, a little unsteady on her own landings, being less experienced with the move herself. The first launch was pretty easy, Katsuki had figured out how to do cat passes through his own mucking around after all, but the second kong was where Katsuki got held up for a while. Sometimes he would undershoot and dive right into the foam vault block, sometimes he’d overshoot and go over the second block only for the back of his feet to hit it and cause him to faceplant on the floor.

“We can move the blocks, you know.”

“I will get this like it fucking is Ears!”

He got it down eventually and even got Kyoka to change the distance between the blocks and their heights just to make sure he could do them consistently regardless of the context. After that, Kyoka managed to convince him to take a break before trying out Kyoka’s second work-around. Kyoka took advantage of Katsuki's break to do a bit of her own training. Without any good walls to try running on or her proper traceur shoes with her, she decided to bang out some flips. Setting up taller vault blocks with crash pads below them she’d flip into a roll or vault into a flip and try to stick the landing. her sticks tended to turn into stumbles more often than not. When she got a little too dizzy from all the rotation she hopped down and grabbed a drink of her own.

“Why did you get into parkour?” Katsuki asked as they stopped for a water break. Kyoka chortled and passed him her phone, Katsuki took it with a confused expression on his face.

“Google Image Mirror’s Edge,” she told him, taking a swig of her water. She could tell when he’d found it when he snorted and a smirk pulled at his lips. Then he handed her phone back to her. “What do you do?”

“I hike,” Katsuki shrugged, “do some dance ‘n’ gymnastics shit for flexibility.”

“Mid-air adjustments be like that, though,” Kyoka grinned as she put her bottle down and the phone away. “Now come on.”

“My second idea is the Kash vault, and you use your explosions to launch yourself on the second point of contact. The reason it’s called a Kash is that the first contact is a kong vault, and the second contact is a dash vault.” Kyoka pushed the two vault blocks together before running the Kash. Then she kicked one of the blocks out of the way. “So before you can try out the Kash, I'm going to have to teach you the dash.”

The dash vault was different from the vaults they had been running so far because you had to jump over the obstacle feet first, your hands coming down in mid-air to push off of it. The first time Katsuki tried it, his foot caught the back of the block, and he tripped, his face smashing into the block’s side.

“High knees on launch, Kats,” Kyoka advised, “If you decide to take it slow, start by making sure you can jump onto or over the obstacle first.”

Katsuki didn’t go slow and tried to do the whole thing again; this time, he cleared the obstacle, but he had to raise his hands to gain the extra high and forgot that the rest of the dash vault involved his hands making contact with the block. He needed less power that time. Kyoka let him try a few more times, keeping track of how his launch kept getting better and more precise, before deciding to throw him another hint. She waved at him to get Katsuki to look over at her, she was sitting on one of the rectangular blocks, her legs swinging off of the ground. She put her hands on either of her sides and pushed herself off of the block with a spring.

“That’s the contact part of the dash vault but with a bit more speed and momentum.”

Katsuki continued trying the vault and he’d just about got it down when Koji and Shinso swung by the gym to collect them so they could freshen up with enough time to get back to class. Katsuki was disappointed he didn’t get to do the Kash, but they could always continue with this some other time. As they walked back, Katsuki penned in between Koji and herself, with Shinso walking ahead of them. Kyoka decided to poke at the sour taste that had lingered in her mouth since their last hero class.

“What’s your deal with compliments?” she asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Katsuki deadpanned, offering a token protest because they’d had conversations like this often enough for Kyoka to know that she had hit the nail on the head with a hammer.

“Whenever somebody says something nice about you or something you’ve done, you dismiss them,” Kyoka continued, giving him the chance to shut her down instead of deflecting. Shinso looked back at them as they talked. Katsuki stayed quiet but jutted his chin out, his silent allowance that they could continue. Koji put the nail in the coffin.

“You do. It's concerning. When you blow up at people that insult you, it makes sense, but this just screams insecurities.” If Shinso was one of their classmates, he would have done a double take at Koji’s tone, despite the speech not being verbal, but seeing as he’d never seen Koji outside of this context, he thought silent but deadly was Koji’s lingual default. Katsuki's shoulders tensed at the implication of insecurities, but he kept walking.

He clicked his tongue, “Ever since my quirk came in, people have always complimented me. They’ve gone on about how I'm going to be a great hero, about how I'm so powerful.”

Shinso almost went to make a snide comment, but a look from Kyoka kept him silent as Katsuki continued. “They… they’ve all turned around and fucking wanted something from me. As if raising me up gave them a right to claim responsibility for anything I fucking did.

“It was ‘my status as a hero would boost my middle school's reputation’ or ‘when I'm famous, my ‘friends’ will be famous by association’. If all their words amount to is them wanting something from me then I don’t give a crap what a bunch of shitty extras have to say!”

Shinso blinked, “Huh. That’s not as shitty as I thought it would be.”

“Fuck you, Zombozo; you’re not the only one who’s allowed a fucking tragic backstory.”

“Yeah, I get it, I don't know shit. Moth has made that very clear,” Shinso signed, rolling his eyes.

“Huh, did you pick that up from Koji?” Kyoka asked.

“What, you mean ‘moth’? I thought that was your name. Should I not be using it?”

“Remind us after exams or something to tell you about sign names,” Koji said, “that’s my way of doing it, as a kind of nickname, for Kyoka, you’d do this.”

Shinso repeated the sign, “Got it, go back to what you were talking about.”

Kyoka chuckled and did just that, placing a hand over her heart. “Aw, Kats, I didn’t know you thought so highly of me.”

She made a point of demonstrating her sign name for Katsuki to Shinso to make it clear how it connected with his nickname.

“When the fuck did I ever say that Snitch Bitch!”

Kyoka grinned, “You said you didn’t care what a bunch of extras had to say. but you clearly give a shit about what I have to say, we just spent lunch working on it!”

Koji teasingly said, “Butterfly, I can't believe you actually like us!”

At the same time, Shinso made the observation, “You ever notice how he only calls Kyoka a Snitch bitch when she’s right?”

Which just made the Kyoka grin at the ever-embarrassed Katsuki more, tapping a jack to his shoulder affectionately. Eventually, they split up, Shinso having further to go to reach his gen ed class. It was getting ever more hilarious that no one had figured out that Koji was part of what the class called the ‘BakuJiro lunch scheme’ when they kept walking into class together at the same time after lunch.

Chapter Text

A week before their exams started, Mr Aizawa reminded them that they should be studying for them and training for the practical before dismissing class and disappearing. As soon as he closed the door behind him, and with no regard for things like earshot or soundproofing, Kaminari and Ashido started lamenting they hadn’t studied. Ashido smiled about it without care, while Kaminari looked terrified. At least one of them was taking this seriously. She looked down at her maths notebook and blew air out of her nose before turning to Katsuki. He seemed to be having a pleasant conversation with Kirishima. Kirishima was asking for some help with English and science, having picked up on Katsuki's adeptness at languages, a side effect of fashion and model industry parents, and an advanced understanding of any physics or chemistry material due to independent research he’d done in service to his quirk. Katsuki tried to play off his agreement as resigned and begrudging. Still, as he talked with Kirishima, the spark in his eye told her otherwise. Katsuki’s eye drifted and lingered on her for a moment, gaze questioning. Kyoka winked at him before picking up her notebook and heading to the back of the classroom, ignoring how Kirishima's theme suddenly introduced a set of crashing symbols that made her want to wince. Meanwhile, Yaoyorozu had offered to tutor Ashido and Kaminari for a week.

“Hey, Princess? I'm not as hopeless as these two, but I could use a refresher on quadratic functions." Sero and Ojiro seemed to have the same idea as they came up and asked for help, too. Yaoyorozu’s face lit up.

“Yes, of course! We’ll hold a study session at my home over the weekend,” she said, then trailed off excitedly as she chatted to herself about preparations she’d need to make for the weekend. It was honestly a bit overwhelming, but the enthusiasm was endearing and cute.

“Robots?”

“Yes!” Kaminari and Ashido cheered. “We’re going to pass! Fighting robots is a breeze.”

Katsuki scowled and looked at Kyoka. She lifted her head to the ceiling and searched for Mr Aizawa’s track; she found it surprisingly close by. He was in the hallway behind their classroom. Ah, so he was spying on them. Either way, she prodded his theme for information. It pushed back against the silent question, negative.

“I’m pretty sure they changed the spec. Especially given how this year has been going,'' Kyoka drawled, twirling one of her ear jacks around her finger.

“Jiro! It is unbecoming of a U.A. student to use their quirk to spy on the teachers for that sort of information,” Iida said. Kyoka raised an eyebrow at him but remained silent.

“Dude, chill out, she didn't say anything about that,” Kaminari intervened.

“Yeah, and it’s not like she can control what she hears. If the teachers really didn’t want her to know, they should go somewhere she can’t overhear,” Sato pointed out.

“It shouldn’t matter whether it’s robots or people,” Katsuki said, getting up to leave. “I don’t know why you morons are so excited.”

“You need to learn how to control your quirks, got it!” Katsuki interrupted. The Soundtrack went dark and foreboding, matching the intimidating visage he struck, especially to someone who couldn’t read his silences. He was right and knew it, but he also refused to elaborate, instead turning his attention to Midoriya.

“Hey, Deku! I don’t know what’s up with your quirk, but the way you’re using it is really pissing me off. But this time, I'll win. And Todoroki!”

Todoroki nodded, “ you’re coming for your medal. I know Bakugo.”

Katsuki grinned, sharp and predatory, “Damn straight.”

Then he marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“It’s been a while since I've seen him that worked up,” Kirishima commented. Kyoka looked at Koji's empty seat.

“Do you believe his sight is darkened by impatience or hatred?” Tokoyami added. Despite the Soundtrack’s dark and dread theme, Kyoka couldn’t help but laugh, and everyone turned to look at her with varying degrees of incredulity or glee. Looks like it was on her to play translator again. The tension in the Soundtrack dissipated.

“I’ll give you impatience, but he’s not angry, just equal parts frustrated and agitated. Even when he’s relaxing, he likes to set the tempo and man, it is rarely ever slow. I'd be pissed off at Midoriya too if he was doing to me what he’s doing to Bakugo.”

“Why? What’s so wrong with him moving as Bakugo does in training?'' Uraraka complained, stomping her foot like a petulant child. Kyoka ignored her and turned to Yaoyorozu to give them an example.

“Princess, you need to know the chemical structure of everything your quirk makes, right?”

“Yes.”

“And that took you years of study to master and memorise, a lot of work, effort, practice and sixteen years.”

“Yes, but I don’t see how-”

“So how would you feel if, say, Monoma copied your quirk and then, after a week and little to no help, could do everything you spent sixteen years figuring out how to do?”

Yaoyorozu’s eyes widened, “Oh.”

“Ojiro, same question.”

“I’d hate it. Myself and them. I'd imagine it’s worse because Bakugo's style is entirely self-taught and independently developed.”

“Everything he does is a Katsuki original,'' Kyoka confirmed. “And Midoriya can’t even be bothered to be his own man. He has to take from others. First All Might, and now Bakugo.”

“That’s not fair. I learned the wall bounces from emulating Gran Torino!” Midoriya cried, looking like that lack of brain-to-mouth filter had come to bite him in the ass proper for once.

“‘Emulate’ is another word for copy, but nice try. You aren’t very good at it either, seeing as you can do the what but don’t know the why." Midoriya's theme escalated rapidly, and Kyoka backed away. Looks like Katsuki wasn’t the only one who needed someone else to remind him to have restraint; her bark, his bite.

“The point is that Bakugo took sixteen years of mastery to do that with his quirk, sixteen years of control, and Midoriya stole it in a week.” She turned to look Kaminari dead in the eyes. “That’s also why he’s so done with you, Sparky. Because you refuse to do your due diligence and learn control. Your dad is an electrical engineer. Maybe you should start applying that knowledge more.”

Then she turned to Ashido. “Acid burns are severe. They can cause permanent blindness and are most often disfiguring. And you sling this stuff around at us with the intent to hit us without care for its composition or PH. I suggest you look up acid attacks. You don’t even need to read anything if that’s too much work for you. Trust me, a cursory glance at Google images says enough.”

“You say that like you speak from experience,” Shoji commented. Kyoka laughed darkly.

“When I use my quirk aggressively, I amplify my heartbeat because it's infrasound, so you can feel it but not hear it. If I had the inclination to, I could make people’s ears bleed by connecting my jack to a microphone and a speaker. That’s what Present Mic does when he screams. By the way, it’s just that the microphone is his quirk. I choose not to do that because it can cause way too much collateral damage, and the risk of death to people is high and invisible. Yeah, prolonged exposure to loud sounds doesn’t just rupture eardrums; it can cause damage to your internal organs. With a device that can generate ultrasonic sounds, I could project frequencies only children and teenagers could hear or, like a dog whistle, only animals could hear.

“And if you think that’s the end of it, that's just the stuff I know for certain I can do. Hypothetically, I could cause you to lose your sense of balance and spontaneously develop nausea, and I could also find a way to maintain that over a distance. At close range, I can already use resonant frequencies to shatter things, a small adjustment to my boots, and I could also do it at long range. With strong enough speakers or with amplifiers, I could use those resonant frequencies and infrasound at higher decibels to potentially generate an artificial earthquake.

“I could, and all I'd need is a bit of support. I know this because I did my research about anything even tangentially related to my quirk. Sound and vibrations, frequencies and decibels, the use of sound in military technologies, how earthquakes and tsunamis occur, binaural frequencies and subliminal messaging. Now, why did I do all of that? Because I want to know exactly what I'm capable of, even hypothetically, so that if it ever comes to the worst-case scenario, I have my nuclear option. Or if there’s a highly specific scenario that this strange application of sound can assist in, I want to have my scalpels. But mostly, it was because I wanted to ensure that, no matter what, I would never hurt anyone unintentionally or go too far.

“My quirk lets me hear things well and amplify sounds a little. Meanwhile, Katsuki is a walking biohazard and chemical bomb. Nitroglycerin is a volatile chemical that he can’t stop producing. His control is impeccable. It has to be, or we’d all be sky-high by now.

“Attempting to replicate Katsuki’s techniques without any regard for why he has to do it like that or for the work that he’s done to develop those techniques is disrespectful on so many levels.

“Tsu can’t just jump like Miruko.

“Iida can’t just run like his brother.

“Midoriya isn’t All Might. And he can’t be Bakugo either.”

Kyoka grabbed her things and hurried out of the classroom in the ensuing silence, pulling out her phone and texting Koji.

“Beetle, stop leaving early at the end of the day. Kats and I say stupid stuff and don’t know how to stop when you’re not around.” He sent back a message stacked with disappointed kaomoji.

Chapter Text

Kyoka, Ashido, Kaminari, Sero and Ojiro stood outside the massive gates to the Yaoyorozu’s even larger estate, their jaws open wide in awe as they had been since each had arrived. Kyoka shook herself from her stupor and walked to the gate to buzz the intercom.

“I guess calling her a Princess wasn’t far off,” Kyoka commented.

“Dude,” Kaminari hissed. The intercom crackled to life, and Yaoyorozu’s voice poured out of it, which seemed off. Had she sat there waiting for them to arrive the entire morning?

“Good morning everyone! Please come in. One of the staff will be waiting at the door to bring you to the dining hall." Then the intercom clicked off, and the gates began to open. Kyoka turned back to Kaminari.

“This is the front gate, and wherever the main house is on this estate, I can’t hear Yaoyorozu.” This was true. If she reached for the Soundtrack, other than the themes of the classmates standing with her, there was only silence around her. It made her glad she hadn’t come alone, and Ashido had insisted on travelling together.

“Oh.” A melodic violin choir in the Regency style filled the Soundtrack as soon as they stepped past the gate’s threshold and grew louder and more complex the closer they got to the main house. As promised, a butler met them at the door and led them to the main dining hall. If he hadn’t, they definitely would have gotten lost. The elegant piece washed away the individual themes enough that Kyoka felt comfortable tucking her headphones into her bag.

“I cannot feel more out of place,” Ojiro mumbled as they entered the dining room with its fancy chandelier and massive table. Yaoyorozu hadn’t arrived yet, so they made themselves comfortable at the far end of the table. They didn’t have to wait long before Yaoyorozu burst in with a trolley of tea and snacks, a light aura around her and a bright beam on her cheeks.

“Hello, everyone. Shall we begin?” She asked. As they worked, Kyoka hummed the melody of the music piece, creating an imaginary drum pattern with her pencil against her stationery tin, her foot on the ground and her free hand against her table or her thigh. They couldn’t run through everything, but everything they did cover, she double-encoded into the memory of the new song. Kaminari was the only one who seemed to pick up on her unconscious behaviour, playing along with her sometimes; he would find that the subconscious effort needed to copy, predict or complement Kyoka’s work helped him focus more. Kaminari had the advantage of sitting next to her and having a wandering attention that often drifted to Kyoka and the distinct tunes she’d play to, depending on the topics she was working on. In reality, she heavily associated the themes of her teachers with the subjects they teach because of the Soundtrack.

This association was often so strong that she would hum those themes back to herself during the exams to jog her memory. Not that anyone else seemed to notice, including Kyoka, nor did Mr Aizawa call her out on it. Finally, after three full days of intensive writing, their exams were done, and all that was left was their practical hero examinations.

Chapter Text

The Soundtrack warned Kyoka that their teachers were waiting for them at the testing site. Though Principal Nedzu still managed to surprise her by popping out of Mr Aizawa's scarf as he did. After explaining the parameters of the test, though Mr Aizawa was probably lying about not being able to go to the summer camp if they failed (or at least the Soundtrack seemed to think so, Kyoka wasn’t quite sure what that permutation on his theme meant quite yet), Mr Aizawa announced the pairs.

“In order, we’ll have: Kirishima and Sato against Cementoss; Tsuyu and Tokoyami against Ectoplasm; Ojiro and Iida against Power Loader; Todoroki and Yaoyorozu against me; Ochako and Aoyama against 13; Kaminari and Ashido against Nedzu; Jiro and Koda against Present Mic; Hagakure and Shoji against snipe; Sero and Mineta against Midnight and finally Midoriya and Bakugo-”

Mr Aizawa paused dramatically, and a shadow fell over the area. The Soundtrack filled with All Might’s fanfare as he landed behind Mr Aizawa. His wide Cheshire grin was far more terrifying than the imposing shadowed silhouette All Might cast over himself and his colleagues. He also seemed to have learnt something from the sports festival as he didn’t interrupt the tense moment with his cheesy catchphrase.

“-against All Might.”

Kyoka’s eyes locked on Katsuki with concern, anger at Mr Aizawa for this decision simmering under her skin as she resolutely buried and ignored her fear and nervousness for her own assignment. If not for her sake, then for Koji’s. In turn, his concern was more for Kyoka than himself. Katsuki, for his part, was confident his friends could handle themselves. His rational mind found it hardest to overcome his false bravado whenever Midoriya was involved. Now that the Soundtrack wasn’t needed to accentuate a dramatic moment, a new, generic piece filtered in. From its structure, it seemed like it would last the whole day. So unless Kyoka really needed something from the Soundtrack, it looked like it was leaving her alone.

“This is going to be much different than your battle trials at the start of the year. After all, you’re up against people way better than you!” Present Mic said smugly. Kyoka rolled her eyes, only Koji’s focused gaze staying on her tongue.

“Now you’re probably thinking your only recourse is to flee. But don't worry, to make things fair, we commissioned the support course for these,” All Might said, pulling out a cuff bracelet with weights. The Soundtrack shifted forcefully to Hatsume’s theme as her product was shown off. It looked like not even the Soundtrack could escape the force of nature that was Hatsume’s desire to network.

“These devices will add about half of our body weight. Slowing us down and reducing our stamina quickly.”

“We had a contest in the support course for the best design, extra credit,” Power Loader added.

“Hatsume won?” Kyoka finished rhetorically. He laughed.

“She’s as brilliant as she is eccentric.”

“Kirishima, Sato, you’re up first. The rest of you can watch or plan your own strategies,” Mr Aizawa interrupted. “Let’s go.”

Kyoka and Koji headed to the monitor room, content to talk strategy while watching the show. Meanwhile, Katsuki walked away from Midoriya before his partner had a chance to catch his attention. He stalked towards the teachers as they retreated to a separate observation room.

“Mr Aizawa!” Katsuki called. The teacher stopped and slowly and deliberately turned to face Katsuki. Present Mic stopped with him as the other teachers carried on. “You made a big fucking mistake with your assignments.”

“Bakugo, I assure you, pairing you up with Midoriya was not a mistake,” Mr Aizawa drawled, his lazy persona hiding his frustration.

“I’m not talking about me.” Katsuki rolled his eyes. “I’m talking about Ears. You shouldn’t have put her up against the Loudmouth.”

His eyes slid over to Present Mic, “don’t get me wrong, they’re going to kick your ass.”

Then his glare settled back on Mr Aizawa. “But it isn’t going to be pretty.”

“Your concern has been noted, but it’s too late to change things now. You should worry about your own test.”

“It doesn’t matter whether we run or fight. Our strategy and approach will be the same," Kyoka started. She and Koji were at the back of the observation room, using sign to communicate quietly. At the same time, Midoriya and Ochako talked with Recovery Girl about the matches.

“Right. Present Mic is a stationary fighter because he needs large breaths to create larger and larger screams. The weights will just encourage him to stand still,” Koji continued.

“He’ll be waiting at the gates,” Kyoka finished, “and won’t give us a chance to move.”

“His voice will scare away any animals, and if we stick around for too long-”

“Sensory overload, not even military-grade noise cancelling, will hold up.”

It wasn’t long before their own exam was set to begin, and the two weren’t any more prepared. All they knew was that they needed to move forward and face Present Mic if they wanted to pass. Before they left for the arena, Koji approached Mr Aizawa, who had just returned from Todoroki and Yaoyorozu’s exam. At the same time, Kyoka went to go and find Yaoyorozu to ask for a pair of earplugs for Koji.

“You made a mistake in your exam assignments.”

“Koda, these assignments were meant to challenge you and be as fair as possible. If you put in the work, you will be able to pass.” Koji shook his head sharply.

“Not me, Ji-ro.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that today,” Mr Aizawa grumbled. Koji smirked. “But there’s nothing I can do now.”

“Just thought you should know.”

Chapter Text

As soon as the horn sounded, they started running towards the exit gate, trying to get as far as possible before Present Mic’s first shout. When it did come, birds fled from the trees in droves. Koji winced and covered his ears even with the ear protectors Yaoyorozu had given Kyoka. Kyoka did the same, falling to one knee. Even after the shout had passed, it felt like it reverberated inside her skull while her heartbeat pounded at her temples. Kyoka grit her teeth as Koji helped her to her feet, and they kept moving. Kyoka pulled the Soundtrack’s ‘practical exam’ piece closer to her, wrapping it around herself like a blanket, trying to drown out Present Mic’s screaming.

It didn’t work, and he blew the Soundtrack away when he shouted again shortly after that. Tears prick at Kyoka’s eyes as her own heartbeat threatens to cave her skull in. Oh, she’s on the ground again. Koji helps her up again, carrying more of her weight than he did the first time. He tries to keep her close, but Kyoka pushes away, and she keeps going with a hand clenched tightly in her hair, using the pain of pulled nerves to ground herself and keep herself aware. She almost had it. So Kyoka took a deep breath and wrangled her heartbeat under control, waiting for the next sound wave as they continued towards the exit gate. She felt the vibrations ripple across the air before the voice hit but could do nothing to stop herself from falling over from the pain, just missing hitting a jagged rock protruding from the ground. Koji looked down at her in concern, hands hovering with uncertainty. He gave Kyoka a once over. She wasn’t doing any worse, but things certainly weren’t good. Especially not with the way her eyelids were flickering as she struggled to keep her head together. When Kyoka opened her eyes, her vision was blurry, so she took a moment to get it to focus and found herself looking at a small black ant. She looked up at Koji, taking his offered hand.

“Koji, does your quirk work on arthropods?'' Koji's pupils narrowed to pinpricks, and he jolted away from her slightly but gave her a jerky yes. There was a shift in the air, and Kyoka quickly diverted her attention, jacking into her boots and releasing soundwaves of her own. After suffering the first three sound attacks, she gathered enough data about the wavelength and amplitude of Present Mic’s soundwaves to jury rig and cobble together waves of her own to counter them by controlling her heart rate meticulously. And when two opposing soundwaves met each other consistently, a node, a pocket of silence, formed between them. The hand that wasn’t on her head formed words she couldn’t trust her voice to say as her eyelids flickered and stance wavered, her jacks adding to the layers of noise despite the ensuing silence.

“I know you’re scared. But I'm right here and won't let anything happen to you. Okay?”

The sound waves faded, but Kyoka didn’t remove her jacks from her boots and kept her head trained in Present Mic’s direction. Koji’s panic faded minutely as he focused on Kyoka and evaluated her appearance. Sweat matted Kyoka’s face, hair sticking to her skin and hiding her eyes - hazy and glazed and struggling to stay open - even from his position looking up from the side. She was leaning heavily on the rock, her legs quaking.

“I,” Koji stammered, his voice uncertain. The air shifted, and Present Mic shouted again. Kyoka created another node long before it could reach them, so the attack only hit her by virtue of her quirk and not Koji. This was his friend, protecting him at her own expense. She really wasn’t going to let anything happen to him. What type of friend would he be if he didn’t at least try to alleviate her pain?

“Okay, I'll try,” Koji murmured. Kyoka still seemed to hear him as she took a jack out of her boot and stabbed it into the rocks nearby, breaking it apart and revealing the creepy crawlies underneath. As soon as he faced the insects, his heart rate accelerated rapidly, his vision tunnelling in on them. Something warm wrapped around his wrist tightly, cutting off his circulation just enough to ground him. One of Kyoka’s jacks was coiled around his wrist, tightening in a way that reminded Koji of a constrictor snake. He turned his gaze back to Kyoka just as she countered another incoming soundwave.

“Please.” A simple word slipped from Kyoka’s lips like a pained and raspy whisper; she was almost begging. Something that could be tears or sweat sliding down her cheeks. Koji bit his lips, closed his eyes, swallowed his fear and turned away, lowering himself to the ground.

“Help us. Swarm and stop the other person in this forest before he can hurt my friend again. He is disrupting the peace of the forest and must be stopped.” After delivering his message, Koji hurried to support Kyoka, helping and pushing her onward.

“It would be faster if you carried me,” Kyoka said weekly. Koji shook his head, shifting her headphones to both check her ears and whisper:

“The least I can do is make sure you walk out, head high on your own two feet.” The pair made their way to the exit gate, slower but still at a steady pace. Present Mic is nowhere in sight when they come within sight of the exit. However, the Soundtrack tells Kyoka he’s somewhere off to the side, still in the arena and flailing around wildly. She’ll have to ask Koji what he had the insects do later. That final probe seemed to be the last straw and a step too far as Kyoka passed out immediately after the horn blew to signal the end of the exam. Koji gathered her in his arms and curled her close to his chest as he hurried to Recovery Girl.

Chapter Text

Shota found himself leaving the monitor room set aside for staff and heading towards Recovery Girl’s temporary workspace. He had gotten tired of Hizashi screeching about insects, and Shota’s need to have eye drops at hand was a convenient excuse to leave. He entered the room from the main hallway. He found the nurse absent, only for her to arrive moments later from the students’ monitor room, where the system probably alerted her to someone entering the area.

“Another bottle of eyedrops, Shota?” she asked, waddling towards the cabinet without looking at him. Shota grunted and followed after her, passing empty beds. Some of them had disturbed sheets, but it was an occupied one that caught his eye. Koda sat in a chair next to it, head resting against the mattress of the gurney, the safety bar pulled down out of the way for his comfort. Jiro’s jacket hung on the back of Koda's chair while Jiro herself lay motionless atop the bed on top of the blanket. Her makeup had been wiped away clumsily, her boots were placed beneath the bed, and her belt and controller were clutched in Koda's hands under his arms and head. A wet rag sat across her forehead, though the shimmer of sweat was still visible against the sickly pallor of her skin. The scene felt unnatural, the girl lying there too still and much too quiet to be his student. His stomach churned uneasily, and Recovery Girl came to stand beside him.

“Why haven’t you healed her yet?” he asked.

“Because there’s nothing to heal,” she replied. “I did a full evaluation, even if it took some arguing with the boy to let me take the headphones off to check her ears.”

“Quirk exhaustion then?” Shota assumed, mollified.

“Quirk exhaustion causes fatigue and accentuates quirk-based side effects. It doesn’t trick your immune system into thinking you have a virus, thus giving you a fever,” Recovery Girl snapped, whacking his leg with her cane and tossing Shota his eye drops. “Koda says she passed out.”

“We didn’t see that,” Shota argued defensively. If they had, they would have helped.

“It was after the buzzer rang. The boy thinks the alarm was the last straw for her poor brain,” Recovery Girl admitted, her stern voice only softening a fraction. Her disappointment seemed to be eternally inescapable. “I would scold you more, but I've been told you’ve already been scolded for your irresponsible decisions?”

“I saw something like it on the day of the USJ. I didn't realise how bad it could get. We should have asked for your opinion on assignments even if Koda and Jiro were the only pair that could communicate when fighting Present Mic.” Recovery Girl nodded, satisfied, before returning to the monitor room where the students were still watching the remaining exams. A part of Shota wanted to stay to keep an eye on Jiro, but he knew the worst exam was yet to come, and he was still needed in the observation room, just in case.

By the time exams were finished and the students were dismissed, the sky had turned orange, and the sun was beginning to set. Shota was about ready to head home, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before his patrol. As he was leaving, he ran into Jiro and Koda again. It looked like they had come from Recovery Girl’s office. Whether they were just dismissed or were checking up on Bakugo Shota couldn’t be sure. He watched them surreptitiously, moving as quietly as he could. He noted how Koda stayed close in case Jiro needed support and how a silent argument flashed between them about whether Jiro needed Koda to walk her home or if she’d be all right on her own. And like clockwork, no matter how inconspicuous Shota made himself, Jiro still seemed to notice he was there. She knew he could only guess how long and that he would never know. Jiro only openly acknowledged his presence for the benefit of her classmates, as if she always expected him to be close by or always knew where he was. When he didn’t move, Jiro openly acknowledged his presence, waving Koda off in favour of approaching Shota, which was when Koda finally noticed that the teacher was there. Koda wandered reluctantly to the school building’s entrance. Still, the way Jiro waited in front of Shota, head tilted and completely wordless, let him know Koda was close at hand.

“Mr Aizawa?” Jiro started when she was seemingly satisfied with Koda's distance. “We need to talk. You made a mistake with your exam assignments.”

“I’m aware putting you against Present Mic was a bad idea. Your friends have informed me of that, and I'm terribly sorry,” Shota acquiesced, bowing. Jiro crossed her arms.

“I’m not talking about me. Yeah, the matchup sucked, but at least I had a partner I could count on. I'm talking about Katsuki,”

“Bakugo?” Shota mouthed. Jiro heard him anyway and rolled her eyes.

“You know why what Midnight and Cementoss tried to do at the sports festival was so wrong? It's not just because they wanted to chain and muzzle him. It's because they never even bothered to understand what the problem was before jumping to the most extreme solution to try and fix it.

“Anyone with eyes can see why you paired Bakugo and Midoriya up with each other. But then you pitted them against All Might, a man who doesn’t know what the word restraint means, in an exam where your options are run or fight. So you know what I think?

“I think you saw a problem you didn’t understand and jumped to the most extreme solution to try to fix it. And now my friend has to suffer for your decisions.”

Jiro let the conversation lapse into silence, feet shifting rhythmically but uneasily and fingers making half-aborted movements. The gnawing in Shota’s stomach worsened as Jiro took a moment to collect her thoughts.

“I came to you because-” Jiro shook her head “-it doesn’t matter.”

Then she turned to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr Aizawa.”

Chapter Text

The next day, when Mr Aizawa came in, he announced the results of their practical exams. Then he revealed that everyone was going to camp, pass or fail, especially since they only failed the practicals. Iida shot into the air, arm raised high.

“Mr Aizawa, this is the second time you’ve lied to us. Aren’t you afraid we’ll lose faith in you!” Kyoka felt Mr Aizawa’s gaze linger on her as his eyeline passed over to Iida. Which was fair. Those who had already lost faith in him, mainly just her, had a greater reason to do so than a little lie.

“I didn’t lie about everything. Failure is still a failure and will be treated as such. Those who failed will have extra classes during camp leisure activities. Dismissed.”

“Technically, he didn’t even lie the first time. He just changed his mind at the last second,” Tokoyami said under his breath. Mr Aizawa passed out handbooks for the summer camp, and everyone quickly realised that they would need to go shopping for more stuff than they had. Then Hagakure suggested they all go shopping together the next day at Kiyoshi Mall. Everyone except Todoroki and Katsuki, who both had prior engagements, agreed.

Once at the mall the next day, they quickly found that if they all stayed together, people would recognise them in droves. So Kirishima suggested they should all split up based on what they needed to buy and meet up at the food court at three.

“I need a new duffle bag,” Kyoka mentioned offhand, and Yaomomo bounced over to her, her theme light and lofty.

“Then perhaps we should browse together? I'm also in need of a new bag, and I don't quite know where I'm going.”

“Sure,” Kyoka replied, checking in with Koji quickly, who gave her a thumbs up from where he stood beside Ojiro. She passed off the player to Yaomomo before walking off. “Follow me.”

As they walked, Kyoka kept track of everyone in their class as they spread across the mall. In part to have something to ground herself in the cacophonous sea of unfamiliar themes and partly because the Soundtrack had been uneasy since that morning. In a way more similar to that day at the sports festival than anything else, but it was better safe than sorry. Kyoka led Yaomomo to an outdoor equipment store that Katsuki had recommended. Well, Kyoka says he recommended it, but really, he mentioned out of hand once that it was where he got a lot of his hiking gear from. She figured that if their stuff met his standards, then it must be pretty good. It wasn't long before Kyoka found a cylindrical purple duffle bag with black straps that would also let her wear it like a backpack. The clerk also said it was waterproof. Kyoka was about to purchase it when she heard something peak in the Soundtrack. She zeroed in on it and found that Midoriya was beginning to panic. She expanded her perception to see if she could pinpoint what the issue was.

“Kyoka?” Yaomomo’s voice pierced through the music, Kyoka’s player at her lips and her other hand seemingly sneaking up to Kyoka’s forehead. Goddammit Koji, because there is no way Bakugo tells anyone in their class shit. “Are you alright?”

“Midoriya’s run into another villain somehow,'' Kyoka muttered absently, dropping the duffle bag onto the counter and sprinting out of the store. When Yaomomo finally collected herself, Kyoka was much too far away to know that Yaomomo proceeded to buy that bag she was looking at for her before taking out her phone to call the police. Kyoka was too distracted to realise she had forgotten her music player with Yaomomo before she was too far away, and the Bluetooth cut out.

She makes it down to the first floor, where Midoriya is pretty quickly. He was sitting awkwardly beside a lanky figure swamped by a black hoodie pulled down low over his face. But it’s times like these that the name Snitch applied to Kyoka and the Soundtrack perfectly. Both were too distracted with each other to notice her approaching. When they’re within earshot, Kyoka slows down to a casual trot. That’s when Midoriya noticed her eyes drifting away as Shigaraki began to babble only to lock onto Kyoka and try in vain to convey the message ‘leave’ with just his eyes.

“Shigaraki,” Kyoka said with all the confidence of someone who’s been lying and been called crazy intermittently for sixteen years because of what she ‘knows’ and ‘hears’. She opted to go with a tone that was tense and aggressive but still relaxed and familiar. “What are you doing here?”

Kyoka couldn’t hear what the man was saying with her headphones still on, but from the expression on his face and the way he raised his hands away from Midoriya in casual surrender, he was playing along. Kyoka and Shigaraki kept their eyes locked on each other as Shigaraki walked away. Each gave the other the evil side eye as they brushed shoulders. As soon as Shigaraki had disappeared from sight and into the crowd, Kyoka hurried to check on Midoriya, still tracking Shigaraki’s theme just in case.

“Are you alright?” Kyoka asked, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking him up and down. Midoriya opened his mouth but noticed that Kyoka had her headphones on before he said anything and reached over to tap their shell instead. “Oh.”

Kyoka searched her pockets for her player only to find it absent. “I think I left my player with Yaomomo back at the shop when I came looking for you. But we can try this.”

She pulled out her phone and paired it to her headphones. “Call me.”

“I’m fine,” Midoriya replied eventually. “Thank you.”

Kyoka gives him a moment to catch his breath, eyes scanning the crowd on guard. That’s where Uraraka finds them a few minutes later, concern plastered on her face and her phone gripped tightly in her hand as she jogs up to them. Midoriya passes Kyoka his phone as he talks with Uraraka before tapping Kyoka on the shoulder when he turns to speak with her again.

“Yaoyorozu called the police. Everyone’s waiting for us outside. They’re going to start evacuating the mall to see if he’s still in the area or if they can get any clue on where he could have gone.”

“Damn,” Kyoka grumbled as she took a moment to search the Soundtrack for Shigaraki's theme, which had disappeared into Kurogiri’s moments prior. It’d be a waste of time, but she couldn’t tell them that, “And I really liked that bag too.”

Uraraka led Kyoka and Midoriya to where the rest of the class was waiting with the police. The officers waiting for them were familiar for all the wrong reasons. Detective Tsukauchi, notebook in hand, was taking Yaoyorozu’s statement while his cat-headed partner Sansa Tamakawa coordinated the lockdown and evacuation of the mall. When Tsukauchi saw Kyoka and Midoriya, he tipped his hat in gratitude towards Yaomomo, showing intent to leave. Yaomomo quickly stopped him to hand the detective Kyoka’s player before he turned to approach them. Kyoka sighed, ending her call with Midoriya and slipping her headphones off to hang around her neck.

“Hello, I'm sorry we have to meet again under such unfortunate circumstances,” Detective Tsukauchi said politely, “ your friends tell me that you were the ones who saw and interacted with the villain?”

“That’s right, sir. Shigaraki found me before Jiro came and drove him away," Midoriya stuttered, curling in on himself nervously.

“Would you rather I take your statements here or down at the station after we’ve contacted your parents and guardians?”

“I need to call my mom and tell her I'm alright. She’ll go sick with worry," Midoriya decided, tone apologetic. Tsukauchi nodded and let Midoriya walk off to make a call.

“You won’t be able to reach my parents until tomorrow morning, so I'll make my statement here,” Kyoka shrugged. Tsukauchi frowned. “They’ll answer a text from me, but they won’t be coming down unless, and I quote, ‘I am grievously injured or someone has died’. They have an important project deadline coming up and have locked themselves in their studio to ‘let the inspiration flow undisturbed’ for the last three days.”

“That’s… okay. We’ll still need to release you to a guardian, so we’ll have someone call U.A. to send pickup for you,” Tsukauchi decided. Kyoka scowled and shifted uneasily. “Yayorozu says you were the one who identified that Midoriya was in trouble.”

“Yeah. Since the USJ and Hosu, I've kind of taken to keeping track of where all of us are and our status when we’re together. So when I heard Midoriya start to panic, I bolted.”

“When you arrived, what was Shigaraki doing?”

“Sitting, talking. He had his hand on the back of Midoriya's neck. I couldn’t hear what they said, so you’ll have to ask Midoriya." Tsukauchi raised an eyebrow at her, likely suspicious, so Kyoka tapped her headset dryly. “Noise cancelling headphones. Can I have my player back?”

The detective handed the device over slowly like he was trying to find an excuse to keep it. Eventually, under the careful stares of all of Kyoka’s classmates, he placed the device into her hands. Tsukauchi blinked and cleared his throat, slightly bewildered.

“Can you tell me what he looked like at all?”

“Sure, I looked directly at him, and he didn’t bother to pull his hood down for some reason. Unkempt dusty blue hair that reaches his nape, red eyes, chapped lips and pale cracked skin. He was wearing all black and might be around six feet tall, but that could be altered by his shoes, which I didn't really clock. Other than that, nothing descript,” Kyoka listed off, slightly bored. “Really, the whole incident feels pretty spontaneous and unplanned, considering he didn’t have any gear on him. I also don’t think he intended to cause any real trouble because he backed off as soon as I showed up, like he was trying to avoid confrontation just as much as we were. His whole vibe screamed, ‘I’m trying to be inconspicuous’, so he might have just been banking on Midoriya trying nothing. I mean, he played along when I confronted him like a bad ex or a toxic friend.”

“Thank you, that’ll be all. Sit tight while we make some calls.” Kyoka scowled and wandered over to where the rest of her classmates were gathered, annoyance and discomfort radiating from her. Some of her classmates were idly chatting, and some were calling their own parents before the police could or because the police already had. Koji was also on his phone, face screwed in concentration as he tapped his screen to text instead of call. Kyoka pulled out her own phone and saw that Koji was updating Katsuki and Shinso on their group chat.

Insomniac:
You know you’re making me second guess if I even want to be in the hero course
Why does this always happen to your class and only your class?

Bakusatsuo:
There's always 1B if you want to get stuck with those incensed motherfuckers.

Piper:
Don’t know but I'm getting really sick of it. Like Evil Disney Princess sick of it.

Insomniac:
So glad to know you care about what happens to me Bakugo

Kyoka smiled as she imagined Katsuki’s pinched face and the sharp ‘fuck you’ he would have given Shinso if they were talking in person.

Jockey:
It's not even us. The common denominator in all of this is literally just Midoriya

Piper:
Butterfly next time you want to kill the nerd you have my permission

Kyoka snorted and looked over at Koji, whose placid poker face stared neutrally at her. Right now, he was serious, but Koji would recant soon enough unless things kept up like this.

Baksatuso:
Makes me fucking glad my parents dragged me to their shitty show.

Insomniac:
Are they just keeping you there now

Piper:
Just until our parents come to pick us up.

Insomniac:
Then hows Jiro getting home her parents are ‘lockdown working’ still

Jockey:
They're calling the school.

Insomniac:
… its a day off

Baksatuso:
We’re on our way home now. I can probably get the hag to swing by and pick you up. If you get permission from your parents or whatever.

Jockey:
I’ll check.

Kyoka switched chats and shot a message to her parents, briefly outlining the situation, asking them if the Bakugos could take her home or if she could go over to the Bakugos’ home for the night. Her mother agreed to either, depending on what the Bakugos felt most comfortable or safe. She then sent confirmation and direct permission to Katsuki’s mom. Moments later, Katsuki confirmed the message was received and that they were on their way.

Piper:
The Gossip Girls are going to freak.

Insomniac:
When have either of them cared

Piper:
Fine, The Suitors will.

Kyoka’s eyes snapped to Koji, whose expression was still carefully blank and neutral. His theme revealed nothing, either. She wasn't sure if that was because he didn’t think it was essential or the Soundtrack didn’t think it was important.

“Oh, Kyoka. Here,'' Yaomomo called, presenting her with the bag they were looking at before she ran off. “I bought this before calling the police.”

“Wow, that’s pretty devious of you,” Kyoka said, half-impressed. She reached for her wallet. “Thanks, I can pay you back.”

“Oh, no need. Consider it a gift,” Yaomomo assured her. “I heard your parents wouldn’t be able to pick you up?”

“They’re calling the school to send someone.” Kyoka became antsy again, her expression uncertain and pinched. Yaomomo easily noted that Kyoka wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of the teachers taking her home or keeping her until her parents could pick her up.

“Well, if you aren’t comfortable bothering our teachers, you could come home with me. I'm sure we can convince the detective to approve the arrangement,” Yaomomo smiled.

“Thanks, but-”

A loud horn rang out across the area from a car that had just pulled up to the sidewalk. Katuski stuck his head out of the back window while his mom exited the car's passenger side and approached the detective.

“Yo Ears! Get over here!”

“-Katsuki’s got me covered,” Kyoka grinned. She slung her new bag over her shoulder and hurried past Mrs Bakugo and the detective. The detective tried to argue with the woman, but this was Katsuki's ‘old hag’, so she wouldn’t back down so easily. She pulled out her phone and played the detective a short audio recording of Kyoka’s mother giving express permission for Kyoka to leave the premises and police care with the Bakugos, and Tsukauchi was forced to acquiesce. Kyoka hopped into the car, using the door Katsuki had stuck his head out of, forcing him to shift to the left seat with a huff and a grumble. Then they drove off.

As Katsuki and Kyoka disappeared from view, Koji let his attention shift to those he and Shinso had taken to calling ‘The Suitors’ with giddiness. Their dynamics and reactions were vastly entertaining in the same way a rom-com or a soap opera was.

First, there was Kirishima, whose shoulders were slumped, and his expression was crestfallen and devastated. Koji likened Kirishima to a kicked puppy or one abandoned by his master without knowing why. Normally, Sero would offer Kirishima a sympathetic pat on the back, but Sero’s parents had already swung by to pick him up.

Next, there was Yaoyorozu, who looked much the same, though with an added side of anger that Katsuki beat her to ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ was for her, and wondering how he arranged for Kyoka to go home with him when he wasn’t even here, and she was.

Then, there was Mineta, who could generously be described as eating his own hat at the idea that Katsuki was going to get ‘it’. In this case, Koji knew that ‘it’ meant sex because this was an unsubtle pest before him and that he could even ‘get’ women with that kind of attitude. The class would ignore his ravings, and Koji was pretty sure that Mineta, who was in the top ten for their exams, didn’t need to be told that the two of them got along like a house on fire because Kyoka and Katsuki had the same brand of attitude in the first place.

Finally, there was Kaminari, who would usually offer Mineta a sympathetic ear, commiserate, or even condone and encourage his behaviour. But in this case, Kaminari was acting even above perfect vice-rep princess Yaoyorozu by not having a reaction at all. Koji knew it wasn’t because he didn’t care. Kaminari just had the distinction of being the only one to ask either Kyoka or Bakugo straight up whether they were a thing or not and whether they were interested in the other that way at all. Both of them, even if he had had to endure an explosion, that was Katuski’s poor excuse for a shovel talk and about as close to a begrudging approval as he was going to get. Kaminari's dad had also arrived to pick him up in his electronics van, so he was busy leaving himself.

At first, Naomasa had assumed that Shota’s concerns about the Jiro girl were his usual ‘undergrounder’ paranoia, even if that often turned out to be good intuition. But this incident solidified the primed concern in the corner of his mind that she knew more than she was letting on. Sure, everything she’d said had wrung true in his quirk, but the way she could pick Shigaraki apart so easily and the way she was so obviously uncomfortable with the idea of someone from U.A. keeping an eye on her directly after this incident rang alarm bells in his head. He hurried to call Shota, imagining scenes of Jiro confronting Shigaraki and scolding him for his recklessness today if they let her go without supervision playing out in his mind. When the call had connected and Naomasa had explained things to Eraserhead, he was surprised to find it was the pro-hero who was now doubtful of the detective’s unsubstantiated suspicions.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to take her right now,” Eraserhead said. “She’s always been evasive with the staff, even if she used to do it in a friendly way. I also did something to upset her recently that would explain her discomfort with a staff member looking after her.”

“What did you do?”

“I paired her with Present Mic for her exams without regard for her sensitivity to sound and issues with overstimulation,” Eraserhead replied. Naomoasa winced. That would also rule out Present Mic being able to come down then, too.

“What about Midnight? The two of them got along last time I interviewed her.”

“No!” Eraserhead was quick to shut down. He sighed. “Midnight and Cementoss did something horrible that was only stopped by her intervention. She’s still mad at them about it, and rightfully so. It was why they were suspended for a while.”

Naomasa winced again, though he also recalled that the incident was another reason Shota was suspicious of her. “Is there anyone available to take her that hasn’t made her mad?”

Eraserhead hesitated, which was not a good sign! Then said, “I'll look into it.”

Then he ended the call. And in the end, it wouldn’t matter because the Bakugos would pick Kyoka up minutes later. But hey, at least now they know she and Power Loader had a mutually positive relationship.

Chapter Text

“Thanks for letting me stay the night Mr Bakugo,” Kyoka said as she watched the roads to make sure he was going the right way.

“It was no problem. And please, call me Masaru. Anyone who can get my wife and son to be civil for an entire night deserves that much,” Masaru joked. “It’s a left here, yes?”

“No, it’s the next one.” The Bakugos’ themes made an interesting band, and the right word for it was a band. Masaru was a saxophone, written in the bottom voice as accompaniment while Mitsuki was a trumpet that could play in unison and in harmony with her partner, playing the top voice and always in the lead. Add Katsuki’s drums and you have the setup for a jazz band, but that was part of the problem. Katsuki wanted to define the genre, but Mitsuki refused to give him that power. A trumpet and a saxophone can be played in any style, after all, and Mitsuki certainly wasn’t going to conform to the percussion’s tempo. Because while the drums accompanied and didn’t leave a piece they did set the stage and the audience's expectations.

“Are you planning anything for the summer holiday?” Masaru asked. As a solo, Masaru’s theme felt uniquely hollow and directionless, like a soloist who was told to play for hours but had no experience in improvisation and was trying to improvise the entire time.

“Yeah actually, the girls got permission for us to use the school pool so I'm going to get cleaned up, get my swim stuff and head over,” Kyoka replied. Masaru took the left turn, and Kyoka pointed out her building, “It’s that one on the left just over there.”

“Well, I hope you have fun.” Masaru parked the car in front of the building.

“Thanks!” Kyoka hopped out of the car and grabbed her things from the back before hopping up the stairs and ringing the bell. Masaru kept his eyes on her to make sure her parents answered, and she got in safely. Kyoka’s mother answered the door and, after a quick hug, let her daughter inside as she walked down to Masaru’s car to talk to him properly.

When Kyoka got to U.A. and its pool she was running a little late. She got changed as fast as she could before joining the other girls at the poolside.

“Sorry, I'm late. I had a bit of a trip,” Kyoka apologised, taking a seat with the other girls and stretching out to warm up.

“Yeah you did,” Ashido needled, Hagakure elbowed her in the ribs. “Ow.”

“I’m surprised you decided to show up,” Tsu stated.

“Why wouldn’t I show? We agreed on this weeks ago; I was looking forward to this too,” Kyoka said, confused. The girls shuffled and coughed nervously until Yaomomo took the plunge and broke the ice.

“Did you have a good night? With the Bakugos, I mean,” she asked.

Kyoka snorted, “I spent most of the night playing peacekeeper and mediator between Bakugo and Mitsuki, his mom, over everything. But it wasn't bad. The food was great, and they had a really comfortable couch.”

“They made you sleep on the couch!” This time, Ashido elbowed Hagakure.

“Nah, I chose to. Mitsuki tried to kick Katsuki out of his room, but I didn’t let her since his room was the only one in the house fully equipped for his Quirk. Well, that, the laundry room and parts of the kitchen, apparently,” Kyoka shrugged. For all of Mitsuki’s faults as a parent, she wouldn’t suggest something like that seriously. “And staying in his room when he wasn’t expecting visitors sounds dangerous.”

“Why’s that?” Uraraka asked. She seemed genuinely curious rather than trying to fish for information.

“He still produces sweat in his sleep. So unless he’s done something beforehand, it’s both an explosion and toxin hazard if you aren’t careful,” Kyoka explained. She moved to sit at the edge of the pool and slipped her legs into the water, kicking the water back and forth gently. Across the pool, she noticed some of the boys coming in. Apparently, Kaminari and Mineta had organised an endurance training session, and Midoriya had invited everyone else. “So, are we getting in the water or what?”

“Yeah!” Ashido, Hagakure and Uraraka cheered, all 3 cannonballing into the pool, splashing everybody else in a wave of water. Kyoka laughed and slid in herself, ducking her head under the water to avoid getting splashed again when Tsu jumped into the pool to splash Ashido Hagakure and Uraraka in turn. Yaoymomo gracefully stepped into the pool with the nearby ladder. They played a couple ‘sets’ of ‘volleyball’, passing an inflatable beach ball between them and trying not to let it hit the water as the boys did constant laps behind them. Eventually, they took a break, lounging at the side of the pool and chatting. Kyoka, Tsu and Hagakure opted to stay in the water while Ashido, Uraraka and Yaomomo sat on the side.

A little while later, Kyoka heard Kirishima and Katsuki’s themes approach the area, and her attention drifted to the pool’s entrance as she got out to rehydrate. Katsuki made his arrival loudly, locking on to and challenging Midoriya as soon as he’d come through the door. Now, Katsuki was smart, smart enough to not touch the water in a public pool without also having a nitroglycerine neutraliser with him in case he contaminated the water and hurt someone. But he didn’t seem to have that neutralisation solution with him. His muscles were tense, meaning his parents probably forced him to come as soon as they saw Kirishima at the door. The way Kirishima wasn’t surprised Katsuki launched himself at Midoriya implied he’d gotten Katsuki to agree by challenging him, using Midoriya as the target. Suffice it to say that Katsuki was antsy and agitated and needed to blow off some steam and release some pent-up energy so much that public safety might just slip his mind. Kyoka checked Koji, hoping he might be able to intervene, but he was distracted. Kirishima had just lowered his arm from Katsuki’s chest to stop him from charging Midoriya when Kyoka called out.

“Hey Kats!” Everyone, save Koji, baulked at the extremely familiar nickname. A thing that showed a closeness far greater than anything they’d seen, and some had hoped, from the two of them before. But most had expressions of fear and concern, for Kyoka’s safety that is. Midoriya looked absolutely stricken and appalled. Kirishima was the first to come back to himself and move, activating his quirk and bracing his arm in front of Katsuki’s chest again in case he charged or blew up. But Katsuki did nothing. He barely even blinked. Mostly because his eyes were trained on Kyoka’s hands, reminding him not to get in the water by asking where his neutraliser was out loud. “Did you bring any of your mom’s sunscreen?”

“No, the old hag fucking chucked me out the door before I could get any of the good stuff,” Bakugo said in answer to both of the questions, subconsciously taking a step away from the pool. Then he shifted the attention of everyone else to another topic. “So are we going to fucking race or what?”

“Oh, I can help!” Yaomomo offered, making a whistle with her quirk. Yaomomo stood by the starting blocks to act as the starter, while Kyoka or Iida stood at the other end of the pool to act as a referee. Katsuki won the first race, flying over the pool with a string of explosions. Todoroki won the second race with a line of ice that he skated across. Midoriya won the third race by actually swimming, narrowly beating out Iida. But before they could start the final race, Kyoka heard Mr Aizawa's theme approaching. She checked the clock on the wall.

“Hold on, guys,” she called. "Our time’s up. Mr Aizawa is here to kick us out.”

There were whines all around until the door opened, and Mr Aizawa entered. Then everyone was a lot more agreeable to leaving and quickly hopped into the changing rooms to get ready to head home.

Chapter Text

It was finally time for U.A's first year’s summer camp to begin. They met up at the campus in school uniform as requested of them. The teachers were loading all of their luggage onto the bus before they would take the register and let them all on. Kyoka was taking the time to bask in the music that she had chosen for her Spotify playlist. Since the end-of-term exams, the Soundtrack had been strangely subdued in a way Kyoka would almost describe as apologetic if it wasn’t for how distant it felt rather than soft. She would be concerned that the Soundtrack was gearing up for something big, but considering how hectic U.A. life and the Soundtrack had been since the year began, Kyoka wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Though that didn’t mean Kyoka wasn’t paying attention to the incidental and non-sentient parts of the Soundtrack by herself. Which is how she knew Monoma was going to try and disrupt her peace before he even opened his big mouth, not that she would be able to hear him, because 1B just had to be here too. Before he had the chance to open his mouth and make his presence known, Kyoka rolled her head back and stared at him idly.

“Hey Mineta,” she called lazily, “do you want to tell Monoma what it feels like to have one of my jacks stab you before he decides to say something stupid?”

Monoma froze in a mix of surprise and fear at being caught out as Mineta gave an involuntary shiver at the reminder, and the rest of her class finally realised that 1B was present too. He quickly rushes onto their bus before Kyoka can make a move, or Kendo could drag him away.

Then Iida ushered class 1A onto their bus. Kyoka guessed, based on past experience, that he wanted them to sit in class seat order, but Kyoka couldn’t hear and no one quite cared, so she soon found herself sitting next to Yaomomo with Koji directly behind her and Katsuki across the aisle from Koji. When Mr Aizawa finally got on the bus, he tried to tell the class that they would be stopping in an hour, even having the courtesy of signing it for Kyoka. Which was a good thing because she and Koji were the only ones who noticed amongst the clamour of the rest of the class.

An hour later, the bus came to a stop, and Mr Aizawa ushered everyone off. Now, it didn’t take a genius, or someone with the aid of an omnipotent and probably sentient musical score, to know that Mr Aizawa was up to something. Past experience should be enough to know, especially when there was nothing but a suspicious unmarked black car in the area, and Kyoka could see 1B’s bus driving away like nothing was wrong. So, against her usual judgment, Kyoka chose to stay as close to Mr Aizawa as possible without being obvious about it.

Tapping the Soundtrack just confirmed what she already knew but also gave her a little information on the three people in the car. Two adults with light, bubbly techno themes that shared a melodic riff and one child with a more sombre and bitter theme, stained with the Dies Irae. The techno themes converged and took centre stage as the car’s doors opened, making Kyoka tense. Mr Aizawa seemed to notice, and at the same time, finally noticed how close Kyoka was to him as two of the Wild Wild Pussycats made their ‘magical girl’ entrance. Their mouths began to open and close, probably introducing themselves and the area with the aid of Midoriya’s encyclopaedic knowledge. Kyoka wanted to inch further away, but Mr Aizawa's presence blocked her path, so she shuffled to stand in line with him instead.

It wasn’t until Mandalay's theme and expression turned sinister that her classmates noticed anything was amiss, and they tried to book it towards the bus. Kyoka didn’t move from her spot by Mr Aizawa as Pixie Bob’s theme slipped forward in the focus, and the heroine cut her classmates off and used her quirk to throw them off of the cliff.

Kyoka blinked, looked at Mr Aizawa, then back at the cliffs and her screaming classmates. She still had no idea what was going on, but she knew she wanted nothing to do with it.

“No. No,'' Kyoka objected, staring at her teacher in dawning horror even though she knew full well that there was no way she was getting out of this.

“Get to the campgrounds as fast as possible, go wild,” Mr Aizawa signed. His hands crept towards his capture scarf.

“I did not sign up for this!”

Mr Aizawa grabbed Kyoka in his scarf and swung her up, over and off the edge of the cliff to join her classmates.

“Bitch!” she screamed unabashedly after his retreating back as she fell with her face to the sky. Kyoka was wholly unconcerned about catching herself, trusting that Katsuki's fast-approaching theme meant that he had her rescue handled. She landed flush against a firm chest, a sturdy arm wrapping around her waist, leaving one hand free to slow their descent. Kyoka considered twisting around so that she could wrap her arms around Katsuki's neck and give him both of his hands free, but the shuffling would probably throw him off more than using one hand would, so she decided against it. Katsuki landed with a grunt, then set her down and let her go. He tapped her headphones off just to scold her.

“You could have turned in mid-air to fall forward like a normal person,” he grumbled, shaking out the hand he used to slow their fall.

“I was making a statement,” Kyoka said primly, turning to face him. Then she bumped shoulders with him and gave Katsuki a playful wink and a sincere smile. “Besides, I knew you had my back.”

Kyoka pulled her headphones down to hang around her neck and then cocked her head to the side. Her face paled minutely but was still noticeable to the likes of Katsuki, who cared to look. Then her body tensed, and Katsuki prepared himself for a fight. That combination had spelt the worst kind of trouble since the USJ.

“Guys! We have incoming!” On cue, a roar bellowed through the woods, and a beast of earth came charging towards them. The class’ first instinct was to scatter, letting the stronger and more combat-oriented of them take the thing down. Their second instinct was to rally. Well, except for Kyoka, who’d used the confusion and scuffle to pull a disappearing act.

Then, with the help of her own quirk, the Soundtrack and her parkour experience, Kyoka stealthed her way through the forest, constantly aware of where everyone and everything was. She’s pretty sure this strategy only worked because the Soundtrack briefly interposed itself to warn her not to touch the ground, and she’d been practising her grabs, grips, crimps and climbing in general recently.

Kyoka was so focused on her pathing that she didn’t notice how she subconsciously wrapped the Soundtrack around her like a blanket, turning it into a cloak of white noise that hid her from anything that didn’t look too closely. She didn’t make a great time, but for a blind run with a priority on stealth and playing the floor is lava, she’d take it. Apparently, it was easier than it should have been.

As she entered the clearing where the camping lodge was located, climbing down the last tree and let her feet touch the earth for the first time in a while. Kyoka’s fingers were stiff and cramping, and her entire upper body was taught and burning. Pixie Bob quickly popped up to greet her.

“How did you get here so soon, kitten? The rest of your class are still part of the way in the woods fighting my pretty beasties,” she tittered. Kyoka sidestepped the pro to see Mr Aizawa coming up to them.

“I played an extended game of the ‘floor is lava’ and used my classmates as a distraction,” Kyoka shrugged.

“You were supposed to work together,” Mr Aizawa deadpanned.

“You never said that just to get here ‘as fast as possible,’ and if all of us had tried stealth like I did, you would have caught on pretty quickly.”

“Fine,” Mr Aizawa huffed. “Get your stuff off the bus and come in and freshen up. You can eat when the rest of the class gets here.”

“Yes sir,” Kyoka groaned, understanding that the wait was probably her ‘punishment’ for circumventing the exercise.

Chapter Text

The rest of class 1A arrived half an hour later. They stumbled into the lodge with all of their things, half-dead like a horde of zombies. Only to find Kyoka was already there lounging on one of the couches in the entryway, reading a book. She had already changed out of her school uniform and it was obvious that she had had time to clean up. Kota had taken a seat adjacent to Kyoka, watching her intently.

“You! You ditched us!” Ashido cried incredulously, pointing an accusing finger at her.

“Be honest, not one of you noticed I was missing,” Kyoka said, not looking up from her book. “Besides, you still had Shoji with you for scouting.”

“But how do you fight past all of those earth beasts? No offence but I don't see your quirk being very effective against them,” Hagakure asked.

“That’s because she didn't fight them!” Pixie Bob chirped, “I never even saw her!”

“Sometimes stealth will be your most effective weapon,” Mr Aizawa added, staring Hagakure down intensely. Because seriously, out of everybody there, she of all people should already know that. “Especially if you know how and when to use it correctly. Now hurry up so you can get something to eat. Kyoka’s been sitting around waiting for you to arrive before she could eat something herself.”

Kyoka migrated to the cafeteria as the rest of the class relocated their things to their rooms and took a seat on one of the benches. She had taken her book with her but set it aside as she watched the Wild Wild Pussycats bustle around and begin setting the table. Before everyone had sat down, Katsuki came over to chat as one of the first people done with his stuff.

“You missed Iida's lecture about ‘proper language’ and ‘respecting authority figures’,” he said gruffly.

“Oh? And how do you figure that?” Kyoka asked.

“Because he gave it to me instead,” Katsuki grumbled with a scowl. “Blamed me for being a ‘bad influence’ on you and said I shouldn't be ‘corrupting’ my classmates with my bad behaviour. For some fucking reason he stumbled over calling you a ‘classmate’ and one of the extras had to hit him before he could spit it out, that was probably the funniest part of the whole fucking thing. It’s like he thinks you don’t have your own fucking agency or nothing. Or like Koji isn’t the one among us that swears like a bat shit mother fucking pirate.”

“Hey, at least I have the advantage that no one can understand what I'm saying,” Koji interjected as he joined them, “besides, no one will believe you, you bubble butt bottom bitch bomber boy.”

“Then maybe I'll just pick up another language,” Katsuki sneered.

“Don’t even bother with the language, just ask for a list of swear words and descriptors of how and when to use them,” Kyoka laughed. That set off the other two as well, their fit lasting until the rest of the class entered, a cloud of clamorous chatting that forced Kyoka to put her headphones back on. Koji and Katsuki split off from her to go and take a seat elsewhere.

After their meal, the girls went back to their room together to pick up their toiletries before they would go down to the hot springs. Kyoka had already been waiting for the class to arrive so she was just going to hole up in her bunk for the rest of the evening. As the others were leaving one of the girls noticed Kyoka wasn’t with them and turned around to fetch her.

“You’re not coming?” Yaomomo asked. She watched as Kyoka grabbed a pair of red rubber caps and slipped them on over her jacks.

“Oh, I went earlier,” Kyoka shrugged casually. She was studiously ignoring how stiff and tense she was, “you guys can go have fun though.”

“But bonding time. We haven’t had a chance to chat recently because of how hectic things have been," Uraraka complained.

“We hung out at the pool just recently,” Tsu pointed out.

“But with the boys right there we really couldn’t have any girl talk,” Ashido pointed out.

“And the boys will still be there this time, just on the other side of a partition wall,'' Kyoka countered, her hands moved to cover her torso without her saying so.

The girls tried to plead and use puppy dog eyes on her. But hollow eyes and weeping-

No.

She pushed the haunted memories from her mind.

“Look, I just really don’t like the idea of being naked and in the open with Mineta nearby.”

“Then I believe we can come to a compromise,” Yaomomo announced.

In the end the girls convinced Kyoka to go to the hot springs with them as long as she could keep her clothes on and they promised not to splash water on her. As the girls rinsed themselves off, Kyoka grabbed one of the wooden stools and placed it a few inches back from the edge of the pool on the side furthest away from the dividing wall. Looking up at it Kyoka could see that Kota kid from earlier, hunched over and observing the boy's half of the hot spring. It looked like the teachers had posted him up there to observe and prevent anything unsavoury from happening. Bold of them to assume perverse behaviour could only occur one way but she was glad to see they were at least trying to put measures in place. Instead of sitting on the stool she sat behind it and lay her arms on the stool, using them as a pillow for her head. Ashido sighed in relief as she sank into the warm soothing water and her tired muscles loosened and relaxed.

“So, what do you think we’re going to be doing tomorrow?” Tsu asked as she hopped into the water with a light splash.

“I don’t know but if it’s anything like what we did today it’s going to hurt,'' Ashido moaned.

“Tell me about it, I feel like my fingers are going to fall off,” Kyoka murmured sleepily. Unlike the others, she didn’t have to worry about the dangers of falling asleep in the bath.

“How did you sneak past Pixie Bob’s monsters?” Uraraka asked.

“Stayed out of sight and didn’t touch the ground,” Kyoka hummed. She cracked one eye open and tried to smile, “And you guys make very loud and obvious distractions.”

“But how did you run off? None of us even noticed you were missing?” Yaomomo prodded. Hagakure reached over and poked Kyoka to keep her from dozing off.

“Relax, can’t sleep without my headset,” she said, lazily swatting the invisible hand away. “And how should I know? When was the last time any of you saw me and how did you lose track of me?”

“You were with Bakugo and then the earth monster charged out of the tree line,” Tsu started.

“We all scattered to evade it. Bakugo, Todoroki, Iida and Midoriya charged in to destroy it. Then we regrouped and I can't seem to recall if you were there for that,” Uraraka nodded.

“I suppose we’ll just have to compare notes with the others to figure it out,'' Yaoyorozu decided after the group lapsed into a focused silence. Then there was a commotion from the other side of the wall (unseeing eyes). Mineta was being Mineta and Iida was trying to stop him, ineffectively (helpless cries).The gnat tried to climb the wall with his quirk (cut strings) and eventually ran into Kota who scolded him harshly and shoved him off of the wall.

“Thanks, Kota babe!” Ashido called. Kota’s heart rate spiked and he slipped and fell into the boy's side of the partition. Kyoka jolted to her feet, tense and shaking and needing to release some energy somehow, and ran over to the wall, knocking on it.

“Is the kid ok?” She desperately wanted something else to focus on.

“Don’t worry about it, Ears! Fucking Deku’s got him!” Katsuki shouted back.

“Well excuse me for being concerned, asshat!” Kyoka replied as she walked back to her seat. As much as she wanted to leave the Soundtrack, their voices would be a much needed reprieve from the ringing in her ears that she begged would stop but that neither her brain nor the Soundtrack could control.

“Ugh, finally, enough work talk! We’ll get enough of that tomorrow. I wanna talk about hot gossip, c’mon babes we gotta have something!” Ashido whined, staring intently at Kyoka. Her attention made Kyoka’s shaking worse and she hoped the other girl didn’t notice. Her relief was palpable when Ashido added reluctantly after receiving pointed glares from some of the others. “It doesn’t have to be about boys or you.”

“I don’t really like gossip.” Kyoka leaned away from the stool and looked up at the sky. The light pollution was low enough in the area that she could see the stars. She was still stiff, but for another reason now.

“Why? It's fun," Hagakure giggled. “And your quirk makes you perfect for it. I bet you’ve heard a lot of juicy secrets.”

Kyoka pointed at Hagakure lazily, revealing that she knew exactly where Hagakure was at the same time. “That. That's why. Because it hurts. It hurts me and it hurts everyone else and I respect people more than to do that to them. Especially if I've never met them.”

“Oh come on, it’s just harmless fun,” Ashido complained dismissively. Kyoka stiffened and then stood to leave. “Hey, where are you going?”

Kyoka looked at Hagakure, approximating where her face and eyes should be while ignoring Ashido and the unseeing eyes that followed the pink girl in Kyoka’s head. “You’re right, my quirk is perfect for gossip and other than when they want me to ‘spill the tea’ people tend to forget that. All the time. So I heard what they said about me when they thought I couldn't hear and I heard people trade hate and secrets like a currency when they knew teachers wouldn’t care. I saw how rumours and whispered malice became hearing hate and bigotry because the worst torment is often the invisible kind. I think we’re done here.”

Chapter Text

Turns out Kyoka was right to want to go to bed early because Mr Aizawa came around to wake them up for training as soon as the sun began to rise, and they were out of the door at five-thirty. There, he introduced their individualised quirk-enhancing training plans. Pixie Bob led Kyoka and Ashido to a rock cliff and gave them their instructions. Ashido had to constantly produce acid and pump it into the wall. Kyoka was to stab her jacks into the wall alternatively to amplify the quality of her audio.

“How. does this. Improve. The quality. Of what. I'm hearing? Kyoka asked between gasping breaths once Mr Aizawa and Mandalay passed by on one of their rounds.

“It doesn't? Mandalay asked, scratching her head with one of her oversized paws.

“That’s not how earphone jacks work. Something like this could actually damage them, making the audio quality worse. The best way to keep the audio quality good after all is to keep them clean," Kyoka explained, she glanced in the direction of 1B who stood there gawking. “It’s why I hesitate to actually stab someone with them, besides the fact that they can shatter concrete and pierce rebar because cleaning blood or biological fluids off of them is pretty expensive and requires compressed air.”

“But this does improve their strength?” Mandalay checked.

“I mean, yeah? I suppose if I did this enough, I might be able to pierce through even stronger and harder metals, like titanium, but it’s a bit overkill, isn’t it?” Kyoka argued. She stabbed a jack into a section of unpunctured rock and pumped her heartbeat through it a couple of times until she found the resonant frequency, and her section of the wall shook apart and crumpled. “Especially when I can work smarter, not harder.”

“How good is your audio quality anyway?” Mr Aizawa asked. Kyoka tilted her head.

“Well, for starters.” She pointed behind them, between Sato and Yaomomo, to the area where Shoji was working with Hagakure. Her finger drifted back and forth every couple of seconds.

“What are you pointing at, kitten?”

“Where Hagakure is standing.” Shoji seemed to hear that because he turned to where Kyoka was pointing and clamped a hand down on her shoulder. Mandalay blinked.

“And your range?” Mr Aizawa prompted. Kyoka reinserted a jack.

“I can account for the exact position of forty-seven people within my range. I don’t know what that means distance-wise," Kyoka reported, and that was without accounting for the expanded range of the Soundtrack. "A second jack gives me more clarity.”

“Why don’t you take five kitten while we figure something out,” Mandalay said, leading Mr Aizawa away. They didn’t walk out of her hearing range, her non-quirk range, but then again, no one ever does.

“Why not have her do resistance training against the amount of noise she can hear at once?” Mandalay suggested.

“No, we can’t do that,” Mr Aizawa shook his head. “Besides, if she can handle Present Mic for half an hour, she’s doing fine.”

“Why not? She can still improve.”

“It’s a medical issue, not a quirk issue.”

“Ah, so Recovery Girl will have your head,” Mandalay smirked.

“Our,” Mr Aizawa corrected, “but I'm more concerned by the girl and her friends.”

“Well. I suppose she can do some hand-to-hand with Tiger’s kittens until we can think of something else. Maybe expanding her range or her ability to distinguish between and search for specific targets? Where did she go?”

While the two heroes were chatting Kyoka had wandered away, following Ragdoll’s theme until she found the heroine’s all-seeing perch. Not that she needed a perch to see it all. Much like Kyoka’s quirk and the Soundtrack, no matter where she was, Ragdoll’s quirk lets her just know the states and locations of up to one hundred people, which is one of the many reasons why Kyoka wasn’t surprised when Ragdoll tried to sneak up on her by meeting her halfway.

“Hi kitten, Mandy and Mr Eraser are looking for you,” she chirped. Her eyes darted rapidly and her theme was constantly shifting and bouncing, perfect for a heroine with a lot of information to keep account of from the front of her mind.

“I know. I was just hoping to ask you a few questions,” Kyoka replied, cocking her head in the direction Mandalay and Mr Aizawa were. Kyoka wondered if her theme would be anything like Ragdoll’s, though she wasn’t as light-hearted as the hero. It was a nice thought. “how do you keep track of everything? Find exactly what you need without being overwhelmed?”

“Years of practice, and there’s no quick way around it,” Ragdoll smiled. Kyoka let her shoulders slump, disappointed, but Ragdoll kept going. “See, you can’t block everything out otherwise-”

“You miss what’s right in front of you,” Kyoka finished. That was certainly true when dealing with Hagakure, and keeping her jacks plugged in at all times to hear was extremely conspicuous. Though considering she’d been doing this for around twelve years and no one had caught on to the fact that her super hearing ability was inconsistent (did she need the jack-in or not?) when that was just as conspicuous, it seemed people were unlikely to notice, “but if it’s too big and there’s too much of it can’t you miss just as much too?”

“Yep, yep! That’s why you have to practise. Break all of the noise down into more manageable pieces, one instrument at a time, before the full orchestra.” Ragdoll rolled back and forth on the balls of her feet patiently.

Kyoka wondered whether Ragdoll chose the musical analogy to appeal to her. But she got what Ragdoll was saying regardless: break things down to what she needs and go from there. And yeah, she could break things down and analyse each bar, motif and theme until kingdom come, but then she’d miss what’s going on around her. Superfocus is the same as blocking things out. That didn’t mean dissection wasn’t useful. It should just be used when necessary and when it would be useful. But taking things piece by piece is what she’d been doing with the Soundtrack and her quirk for a while now, and it still didn’t quite click. On the one hand, the Soundtrack made targeting easier because each theme was distinct and unique and she could follow it to the edge of her range so long as she knew what she was looking for. It was always active, so alerts and general status were always at her fingertips, meaning she was rarely caught unaware. But there was so much all at once and you needed to take time and reflect to be able to understand the full picture.

Meanwhile, her quirk only worked when she had her jacks in, which limited her mobility but allowed her to hear entire conversations and heartbeat reading was better for lying than shifts in the Soundtrack because the Soundtrack focused on the whole person where a heartbeat was just the here and now; even if heartbeat reading was as reliable as a polygraph test. The Soundtrack was emotion whereas her quirk was physiology. So Ragdoll’s advice worked when using one in isolation but Kyoka knew they would work better in tandem, alternating had worked so far but she was still ‘blocking’ one out in doing so. To take Ragdoll’s analogy, she was a conductor leading and reading two different orchestras simultaneously. Guess it was going to have to be the brute force kind of practice after all.

“I don’t suppose you have any advice for overstimulation?” she asked, resigned. As much as she wanted to use both her quirk and the Soundtrack in tandem more often, that was the main crux of the issue.

“No, sorry. Anything I could give you that worked for me probably wouldn’t work for you. But for what it’s worth, I think you’ve been doing pretty well! Now I think Mandy and Mr Eraser want you to report to Tiger for now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Chapter Text

After training the teachers had them cook their own dinner. It was a subpar curry, but after the day they’d had the students would have eaten anything. As they ate Kyoka tried to push the control and accuracy of the information she could gather from the Soundtrack and her quirk in cooperation; practice, like Ragdoll suggested.

She used her quirk to pinpoint where everyone was and what they were doing, then called upon the Soundtrack as she practised honing in on random people or focusing in on an anonymous heartbeat and trying to identify them. Doing it the other way around proved too noisy. She took note of how Kota snuck off and how Midoriya followed him. Then she decided to shift focus onto them to see just how far out her range could go in a single direction, and when the pair stopped walking she used that as her radius to then expand out in waves from there. All that, while also trying to keep track of her immediate surroundings and remembering to eat.

She finds the edge of her quirk’s range first, vibrations get weaker the further you travel and the smaller the sound the weaker the original vibration. So she finds her quirk cuts out just before reaching Kota, though Midoriya would walk back into range once or twice. But the Soundtrack keeps extending further and further, though she can’t quite tell because there’s nothing that far out that the Soundtrack would want to give a theme to. Until just before a familiar pain and blurring vision hits her she hears the opening notes of… something. A synth maybe? Before the Soundtrack shifts focus and her head is left spinning with whiplash as Ragdoll’s theme takes centre stage and the heroine prances over to Kyoka and places a pill bottle in front of her.

“Painkillers,” she explains cheerfully, giving Kyoka a dopey wink before bounding off. Koji looks at Kyoka in concern as she knocks back two pills with a glass of water, not even denying she needed them.

“Quirk side effects, not medical. I'm fine,” she gave him a strained smile, brushing off his hovering concern.

“That’s strange,'' Monoma commented, head cocked as he approached Kyoka's table. The Soundtrack did a low record scratch in the facsimile of a spit take as everyone in the area zeroed in on Monoma. Oh, so it was feeling comedic then?

Some of his classmates, and even some of Kyoka’s, were trying to signal him to back off, knock it off or stop somewhere behind her and even more were taken aback that he had the gall to talk so casually to someone who had threatened him, justifiably so in Kyoka’s mind, multiple times. Kyoka snaked a jack into her hand to fiddle with but with no intention of striking, just letting the implication sit there as she let herself relax. The Soundtrack wasn’t giving her anything but his expression read curious, not smug. Of course, the guy with the copy quirk would be just as, if not more, knowledgeable and inquisitive about quirks than Midoriya. “That sort of drawback is usually present in mental quirks and, no offence, but yours is very much an obvious physical quirk.”

“My doctors said that too before my parents took me to a psychiatrist. They classified Earphone Jacks as a mutation for the same reason, you know?” Kyoka grinned. Before Monoma could continue the conversation two voices interrupted in tandem.

“You see a shrink?”

“But isn’t it a mutation quirk?”

Midoriya and Katsuki looked at each other, surprised. Katsuki scowled at Midoriya who’d just returned, causing him to flinch back in a stuttering panic. Kyoka ignored them and continued talking to Monoma.

“They thought my quirk was so obvious that they completely overlooked the headaches, blackouts and panic attacks I kept having as unrelated and superfluous. They figured my quirk's side effect would be ruptured eardrums or bleeding in the canal but that never showed." Then she turned to Katsuki. “It was the panic attacks that got me referred to a psychiatrist for a second opinion, don’t call them shrinks that’s demeaning and the shit people say about them is bull. Turns out that my ears are built for sound, but my normal brain can’t handle the mass input. My gear here? His idea.”

“Simulating the consequences of having a mental quirk,” Monoma nodded. “You’re right, it isn’t as obvious as it seems. Being out here must be grand for you then.”

“I wouldn’t say that, you guys do make a lot of noise. But yeah, 47 people for more than one square kilometre is easier on me than the population density of Tokyo. Before you ask, it's around 6000 per square kilometre and no, my range is not a square kilometre. I'm just making a point," Kyoka added. Then she gave a foxy smile. “On the other hand, none of you are doing anything that would keep me up at night.”

Some people paled, while others blushed furiously. A couple gave involuntary shudders at the implication, which Kyoka could definitely relate to.

“Though the lack of wild animals out here is strange,” Kyoka continued pretending she was unaware of the reactions she had caused. “I mean, not even a single cricket or cicada.”

Everyone froze and went silent, as if listening to the forest for the first time. Then they realized that Kyoka was right. The usual sounds of the night were absent, absent here in this vast wilderness even more than they were in the sprawling city. Suddenly, everyone felt on edge. But Kyoka shrugged the new air off like water off of a duck’s back and caught Midoriya's eye.

“The councillor argued it could be a transmitter because of how I use it. The argument is strong enough that my file should be labelled ‘undetermined’ but my Doc and councillor, family rivalry you see or at least that’s what they tell me, get so distracted arguing over it whenever it comes up that they never file the paperwork. It's actually the Doc’s brilliant plan to distract the councillor so the file never changes and he wins, by default.

“Basically, the councillor argues that my altered earlobes could be like Ashido’s horns or Kirishima’s teeth, and my quirk is really super hearing because my mom has the jacks too but not the sound sensitivity. The Doc counterargues that even if that’s true, it’s still a mutation because the structure inside of my ears has been permanently altered. I say it still doesn’t explain the music.”

That got a laugh out of everyone and Kyoka smiled weakly because she wasn’t kidding.

Chapter Text

“A test of courage? Seriously?” Kyoka asked, her voice filled with deadpan disbelief and sarcasm. Only after everyone turned to look at her did she realise she’d accidentally said that out loud. “Did I say that? Whoops. I just think this is a bad idea.”

“Come on Jiro, this’ll be totally awesome!” Ashido cheered, coming over and trying to wrap an arm around her shoulder. Kyoka side-eyed her and deftly side-stepped out of the way.

“Not so fast,” Mr Aizawa interrupted, wrapping Ashido and the other failing students in his capture scarf. Though his narrowed eyes were trained on Kyoka. “The remedial students will be having a class with me tonight instead.”

As he dragged them away Kyoka reached a hand out lamely to Kaminari and desperately whispered, “Take me with you!”

“Oh, what? Is the big bad punk chick of 1A really just a ch-ch-chicken?” Tsuburaba jeered, and some of the other boys in 1B snickered behind him. He soon found a jack pointed at his Adam's apple.

“Can’t help but notice Monoma isn’t here. What are you, his secondhand replacement? And we were just starting to get along too," Kyoka shot back. “Besides, shouldn’t you want me gone?”

“Ok kittens, calm down. I'm sure we can sort this out peacefully,” Pixie Bob smiled mildly, a paw hovering above Kyoka’s outstretched jack in case she needed to grab it. Kyoka breathed air out and up into her bangs as she retracted her jack.

“Yeah, by letting me sit out,” she replied.

“But Jiro, we’re already at a serious disadvantage with 5 missing students,” Midoriya pointed out.

“Yeah, and we also have an uneven number of participants so one of us will have to go in solo. Do you want that to be you?” Kyoka asked, Midoriya shook his head rapidly. “Besides, I am a massive advantage. With my range, I can hear almost everything going on in the designated area and pinpoint exactly where every member of 1B would be ages before I get anywhere close enough for them to scare me.

“Trust me, unless you pull something really impressive and go for psychological or existential horror I'm not going to be impressed. And Monoma's the only one of you with the vindictive guts to go that far.”

The rest of 1B puffed up indignantly but Yanagi and Kuroiro looked like they were impressed.

“How are you with horror movies?” the ghostly girl asked. At the same time, the literally black boy asked.

“How vindictive are you exactly?”

Kyoka smirked and Bakugo hid a barking laugh under a cough as she looked at him and Koji in turn.

“Very. You two remember when Purple got us talking horror flicks that one time?”

“Yep, you said horror movies were so predictable it was funny,” Koji signed.

Katsuki clicked his tongue, “Something, something sound design; something, something boring; something, something, metaphor and allegory. Then I told you to take that shit up with Spark Plug. And then Zombozo started going off about the gothic classics.”

“Stop pretending you weren’t listening. You call black bird ‘Poe’ in our chats and Dark Shadow ‘Nevermore’," Koji smirked. An unfamiliar theme tickled at the edge of her perception, faint and ominous with a synth sting. A shiver ran down Kyoka's spine.

“Sorry kitten but you still have to play. Is there any way you can minimise your quirk?” Mandalay asked. Kyoka sighed and tapped the headphones around her neck.

“Yeah, but I still think separating us and sending us into the woods unsupervised is a bad idea.” The Soundtrack was slowly mounting now, whatever it was preparing the last week or so seemed to be ready. Kyoka’s eyes lingered desperately on Ragdoll, who paused for a moment before moving on into the woods with 1B at Tiger’s call. Kyoka drew her lot, got her gear sorted, and then consciously made the decision to hide her music playing in her shoe, silently cursing her decision not to wear something with pockets. Katsuki’s gaze seemed to linger on her eyes flashing with something analytical. He seemed to come to a decision and straightened up, looking a lot more alert than he did before. For all Kyoka knew, the Soundtrack could be playing into the ambience of horror a test of courage invoked, but with how this year had been going that would have been really lucky. In an odd twist of fate, it was, in fact, Midoriya who drew the lot for the solo team.

6 minutes later it was Kyoka and Hagakure’s turn to enter the woods. Hagakure would scream at every little thing, even the rustling of leaves that 1B had nothing to do with. And just like she had predicted, Kyoka didn’t even bat an eye, because even with her quirk limited, the Soundtrack couldn’t be muffled. They kept walking through the first for another 6 minutes, Kyoka letting Hagakure hang off of her arm like a lifeline before a light smog filled the air and Kyoka began to feel woozy. A synth blasts out of the Soundtrack at full volume now, a warning that comes a little too. The last thing she hears before collapsing to the ground is the beginning of a death metal shout before the opening beat of drums.

“Ah, Jiro Kyoka. Not one of our primary quarries but still a person of interest. Come along now dear, the young master would like a word with you.”

Chapter Text

“Mr Aizawa!” the voice of one of Shota’s students, followed by footsteps, called.

“What is it, Iida ?” Shota asked, freezing when he found his most put-together student deathly pale and sweating bullets.

“I. I just did a headcount of all of the students! There are only thirty-eight of us! Excluding Bakugo, who we know has been captured, there should be thirty-nine,” he reported with a nervous gulp. Everyone who was still conscious and in the immediate area froze, their eyes bouncing around and across each other, trying to make sure they were all still here. Mumbled whispers of ‘who’s missing’ filled the air.

“Where’s Kyoka?” Koda’s voice rang out louder than Shota had ever heard it before, and panic was beginning to set in. “Where is Kyoka!”

Shota did a quick check himself. Koda was right. Jiro was the one missing. Alarm bells began to ring in his head.

”She. She was partnered with Hagakure," Koda continued when he was faced with silence. Now, not only was this the loudest Shota had heard him speak but also the longest. “And Hagakure is here. Hagakure came back. So where the fuck is Kyoka?”

In a blink, the meekest student in the hero course had become a man-possessed. He grabbed the front of Aoyama's ruffled shirt, lifted him into the air and growled in his face.

“You brought Hagakure back! So where’s Kyoka!” Tears were threatening to spill from Koda's eyes.

“I don’t know, I swear. By the time Yaoyorozu and I arrived, she was gone!” Koda dropped Aoyama before falling to his knees and curling into a ball on the ground. The students respectfully turned away from the boy as muffled sobs could be heard in the silence he left behind.

The next day, the U.A. teachers gathered at the school to hold a meeting regarding what their next course of action should be. Shota was antsy, he and Kan had given their statements already last night, but he wanted nothing more but to join Tsukauchi and the police force in the search.

“To have a student kidnapped is our greatest failure as teachers,” Snipe lamented. “They’ve taken Bakugo and Jiro, and with them, society’s faith in heroes.”

“Hmm, yes. Every news outlet believes so, too,” Nedzu nodded. “It is my assumption that they targeted Bakugo after noticing his violent behaviour at the sports festival.”

“But that doesn’t explain why they would take Jiro as well,” Nemuri pointed out.

“Regardless, if either were to join the League U.A. would be ruined,” Nedzu continued, “the public and the commission’s trust would be lost entirely.”

“On the topic of trust, we can’t ignore the elephant in the room any longer,” Hizashi pointed out. “There’s a traitor in our midst.”

“Eraserhead may have a theory about that. If you would,” Nedzu gestured a paw towards him.

“I believe Jiro Kyoka may be our leak,” Shota said, standing.

“Not this again, Shota,” Nemuri sighed. “Tsukauchi cleared her.”

“She knew before they arrived that the League was coming. Not just at the USJ but the Pussycats also reported she was uneasy and nervous about doing the tests of courage,” Shota argued. “Then she was the one who reported Shigaraki's presence at the mall.”

“So you think she's missing because they wanted to retrieve their agent?” Nemuri deadpanned. “Perhaps she didn’t want to do the test of courage because of nerves.”

“I’m surprised you’re defending her,” Vlad said, “she did get you suspended and all. Her argument for the test of courage was actually that the whole thing would bore her.”

“Now that you mention it,” Yagi mused, “during the break-in, I ran into her in the halls when everyone had already evacuated.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this beforehand?”

“It slipped my mind after the USJ. My apologies.”

“Her quirk is perfect for this kind of mission,” Nedzu mused.

“No,” Nemuri interrupted, “I discussed this with Tsukauchi, and I will say it as many times as necessary. The fact that her quirk could so easily be used for evil, that her chosen name is Snitch, that we don’t know, and she never speaks of any of the things that she can hear. That should be a testament to her dedication to being good, not a mark against it because if she really wanted to, she could have brought society to its knees.”

“A statement that ‘she hasn’t done so yet’ isn’t a good defence,” Shota shot back. “Even if she wasn’t a spy, there’s a concern she could come back as one. We’ve seen how she lacks faith in us, all of us.

“For good reason! And for the sake of her friend, the same friend who has been kidnapped and will be by her side. Can’t we also reason that if she distrusts us for our treatment of Bakugo, then she would fight the League tooth and nail if they were also to mistreat Bakugo?”

“Let us hope so,” Nedzu intervened. “Though I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Then, Yagi’s phone went off, and he stepped out to take the call. When he returned, he only had one thing to say.

“They have a lead.”

Chapter Text

Kyoka came to awareness sharply. As usual, sound was the first thing that reached her. Immediately, she knew she was back in Tokyo, the screaming themes of thousands echoing in her ear. She reigned the scope down to her immediate area, latching onto one of the three, no, technically four, familiar themes in the room before expanding out to find that, layered over the top of them all, was something new. A deep electronic motif, repeated in the bass, other synth and simulated instruments, built up slowly as she became more aware. It was a fitful fight against her own body to open her eyes, something she hadn’t experienced anything like since the morning after the Hosu incident. The moment she opened her eyes, that new blanket theme hit a bass drop before launching back up again with a string section.

She was in a bar manned by Kurogiri. Shigaraki sat at a stool watching her while a bunch of unknown ‘new recruits’ were dotted about the floor in various positions. She didn’t have to turn to know that Katsuki was locked up beside her, but she let her eyes drift to him anyway. Kyoka supposed that what surprised her most about his arrangements was how similar they were to what the teachers had tried to use at the sports festival.

“Ah, it looks like Little Miss Cheat Code is finally awake,” Shigaraki’s raspy voice tittered. Kyoka knew she was in a bad position and shouldn’t push her captors, but she couldn’t take this guy seriously when his theme was just chiptune.

“That’s Snitch to you.” The words rolled off of her tongue drunkenly. That’s when she became aware of the pressure of rope digging into her arms. She glanced down to find her wrists bound together, but her ankles and legs were free. It was also clear that none of them had ever tied a woman up before because, in their efforts to avoid her breasts, they’d tied her waist to the back of the chair and left her upper body free to move. Hey, at least they were less pervy than Mineta. “What? No custom containment contraption for me?”

“We’re not afraid of you! We don’t know how to stop your quirk,” the one in black and white full body spandex said in two voices. Odd, he only had one theme, so Kyoka filed him under fractured psyche and not multiple personalities. Though it did start and stop a lot like something constantly interrupted his train of thought.

“It’s because we don’t know if we want to kill you or keep you yet,” Shigaraki interrupted. “But don’t go thinking you can just fast-travel out of the dungeon because of it.”

The blonde in a high school outfit whose theme was piano and bird song hopped over the counter, slipped a knife from her sleeve and rested it against Katsuki’s cheek in a loving, almost seductive manner. The man with old burn scars on Katsuki’s other side set his hand alight.

“Make one wrong move, and he’ll be punished,” the fire guy said. But Kyoka was more focused on his theme than his words. His was the technicality because it was the same one that signalled their attack on the forest, which meant that he was probably the leader of that operation. No wonder she hadn’t heard the League coming. But that wasn’t what drew her focus. No, that was his drums because those drums were very familiar. She’d only ever heard that rhythm from two people before, and they were both from the same family. The Soundtrack had just told her that this man was a Todoroki and haunted by all the trauma that came with it.

“And if you think you can call for help—” Shigaraki drew her attention to him again, and the blond returned to the counter while the Todoroki backed away from Katsuki. Kyoka watched as Kurogiri placed her headset onto the bar counter, and Shigaraki grabbed it, disintegrating it in seconds. “Don’t.”

“Well, that’s fifty thousand yen down the drain,” Kyoka blinked, tone cavalier. She could feel Katsuki side-eyeing her in disbelief, but he could go eat shit. She’s terrified, sue her; it was either this or flirting, and the flirting would be more likely to get her killed, not less. “Those weren’t even my hero ones, so I literally couldn’t call for help, and they’re the only way to guarantee my quirk isn’t working because, y’know, they were designed by doctors to do that.”

“I like her,” the Todoroki smirks, “I vote we keep her. She’ll make good entertainment, at least.”

“She’s so funny! She’s so rude!”

“Since you’re so chatty, we’ll deal with you first,” Shigaraki said. His head tilted towards Katsuki. “I’m sorry to have to keep you waiting.

“How is it that you always know when we’re coming?”

“I didn’t this time. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

This wasn’t good. This was going to be worse than playing a balancing act when dealing with the teachers and deflecting suspicion from the police. Kyoka knew that she couldn’t make her ability seem specific to her because then they’d kill her to get rid of it. Still, they’d figure something was up if she deflected too much. So, don’t die, don’t reveal the Soundtrack, don’t get caught in a lie, and try not to insult them… too much.

“At the USJ, you announced our arrival before my portal had even formed,” Kurogiri said. “Then again, when I scattered you and your classmates.”

“We lost sneak attack damage because of that.”

“I hear shit. I heard you.”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Shigaraki tutted, coming closer to Kyoka. “That doesn’t explain the mall. You came after me like you knew exactly where I was.”

“Don’t be such an egomaniac. I keep track of my classmates' heartbeats if they’re in my range now. That’s your fault, Stain’s fault too,” Kyoka spat out, acting like she was being forced to give this information up. “Midoriya’s heartbeat spiked, and he started to panic, so I bolted.”

“How did you know that it was me though?” Shigaraki stalked towards Kyoka, looming over her. “Your quirk can only explain so much, and it can’t explain that.”

“Hey! Don’t fucking touch her!” Katsuki shouted, speaking up for the first time as he strained forwards. His eyes were focused on Shigaraki’s hands that had been approaching Kyoka’s forearm and thigh. Shigaraki froze and withdrew slowly, almost robotically. He looked at his hand as if only just realising what he’d been about to do, and then he tilted his head in consideration.

“Shigaraki Tomura,” Kurogiri said in warning.

“You care about each other,” Shigaraki hummed.

“That’s sweet! That’s stupid!”

In the silence that followed, Shigaraki turned his attention to the TV on the bar’s far wall. U.A. was giving its official press conference about the attack. Kyoka was surprised to see Mr. Aizawa on screen, but she had to admit that he cleaned up pretty well. The media was trying to imply that U.A. was incapable, despite its many heroes, of protecting its students, further implying that heroes at large couldn’t protect the people.

“See, we want to pose a few questions. What is a hero? What is justice? Is this society truly fair? And when everyone starts asking, we’ll know that we’ve won. And you like winning, don’t you?”

Katsuki’s glare was set, and Kyoka could almost burst out laughing if she knew that if she did, she would probably end up dead. How poorly they misunderstood Katsuki’s character. Sure, he wanted to win, but he always wanted to win right. Appealing to his victory was about as useful as appealing to his desire to crush Midoriya. You don’t know how wildly and in what direction he would explode. “Dabi, let him go.”

“You know he’ll just fight, right?” the Todoroki, Dabi, scoffed.

“It’s fine. If we want to recruit him, we have to treat him as an equal,” Shigaraki said, waving him off. Then he gestured for the school girl to take up a position by Kyoka, a knife placed carefully against her neck and under her chin. “Besides, he’s smart enough to know that if he tries, she’ll be the one who pays.”

Dabi had Twice, spandex, do it instead. The man in a mask and a top hat, whose theme sounded similar to a magician's show she’d watched on pirated DVDs as a kid, bowed and apologised for their crass methods. Shigaraki approached again while Twice worked. On the surface, it sounded like he was trying to appeal to sympathy. Their different backgrounds and how they’re all outcasts from society. But he ends it with a call for anarchy and chaos rather than a call to reform and an overthrow of society's oppressors:

“No rules, no heroes to try and hold us back. Don’t you agree?”

She could see the edges of Shigaraki’s smile from her angle before he turned to look at her. “And what about you? If you won’t tell us how you do it, then how about you join us? We could always use another informant, and you’re much more skilled than the pathetic weakling we have.”

Another. A new sting in the Soundtrack accompanied that one word. One that could probably help Kyoka find this informant and one she took note of because of that. Katsuki rubbed his sore, now free, wrists and took advantage of Twice looking down at his ankles and Shigaraki looking at Kyoka to shoot her a few signs. Kyoka slumped in a way she hoped would look resigned as she glanced up at Shigaraki.

“I go where he goes,” she said simply, jerking her head at Katsuki. It was a sign to him that she understood the plan, but Shigaraki took the gesture as a simple quirk of her behaviour. His theme crowded happily, and he turned back to Katsuki. As soon as his ankles were free, Katsuki jolted forwards, kneeing Twice in the face and throwing a wide right hook at Shigaraki that knocked him backwards and the severed hand off of his face. Meanwhile, Kyoka wrapped a jack around the hilt of the girl’s knife and another around her neck. Flinging the girl to the side and stealing her blade, she then used the blade to cut herself free. Katsuki placed himself in front of Kyoka as she kept her eye on the girl and an ear on Kurogiri.

“Screw you,” Katsuki growled, “yeah, I like to win. But I want to win like All Might, no matter what you have to offer me!”

“If you’re sure, then I'll stick with you,” Kyoka grinned at Katsuki. Her statement was a pointed jab at what she told Shigaraki. Then, she actually addressed the League. “Point of note: your pitch is too long. Better workshop that.”

In the terse silence between the two parties, the voices from the TV filtered back into focus. The media was trying to paint the two of them, but mostly Katsuki, as a villain to be. But then Mr Aizawa intervened on their behalf.

“He’s trying harder than anyone to become the top hero,'' Mr Aizawa said, raising his bowed head to look directly into the camera. “If the villains think they have a chance with him, then they are grossly mistaken. I guarantee you that much.”

“And what of the girl?”

This time, Mr Kan spoke up, but Kyoka wasn’t captivated by the broadcast like the rest of them. No, her focus was on the surrounding area. Her attention in this lull was on the Soundtrack and how a massive wave of people had suddenly entered the area, and a mass amount of people that were already there were gradually being moved out of it. She also recognised some of the new themes that were moving to surround the building. Tsukauchi and his partner, pro heroes like All Might, Endeavor and Kamui Woods.

“If Bakugo is a lion, then Jiro Kyoka is a beast tamer. In the heart of a den of wolves and snakes, the two of them will be fine.”

“And what are you doing to ensure that remains true?”

“Our best with the information currently available to us,” Nedzu replied, taking over from the two homeroom teachers, “I have no doubt that the police will break this case very soon. We won’t rest until we retrieve our missing students.”

The conference and the broadcast ended there. Katsuki cackled as he took a defensive stance. The heroes and police began to close ranks on the bar building. Heroes were on each side of the building. Still, most of them were behind the wall on Katsuki’s left, which she eyed warily and as inconspicuously as possible.

“Looks like the teachers get me more than I thought.” From how his eyes slid over to Kyoka, she figured he was also talking to her. “You’re a fool if you think I'm anything like you.”

Katsuki’s drums took centre stage, and that declaration was triumphant and loud enough to drown out the other themes. Kyoka chose to stay quiet, but she made her own stance clear. She brandished the girl’s stolen knife at her and Kurogiri while sliding closer to Katsuki. Kyoka tapped the Soundtrack again to get a hint on who would move first. Now slowly returning to its pre-exam animation, the Soundtrack gladly complied and pulled All Might’s theme to mind. Then, there was a knock at the door.

“Hello! Pizza delivery!”

Come on, how obvious could they get?

Seconds ticked by in silence, allowing Kyoka to wrap a jack around Katsuki's waist and move them further away from the wall just before it burst open. The sudden change in air pressure caused by the punch made her eardrums pop, and suddenly, the world was muffled, and all she could hear was the Soundtrack.
No problem, she could deal with this.

All Might came crashing through the wall, and his theme skipped straight into its climax. From how Shigaraki turns to Kurogiri, Kyoka knows it's just her with the hearing issues and prepares to dodge another warp gate. But then, two different themes announce themselves, and Kamui Woods jumps through the hole in the wall, binding all of the villains. Dabi is quick to react, but before Kyoka can get a warning out, a yellow blur enters the room, knocking out the magician before kicking Dabi in the back of the head on his rebound. A nudge from the Soundtrack tells her that the Todoroki isn’t as out of it as he seems to be, though Compress is certainly out, so Kyoka keeps half an eye on him as All Might turned to say something. She could hear Katsuki tense up, so she tapped him on the shoulder to distract him. She did not want to expose her current weakness to the still-conscious villains, so she used signs instead.

“A.M. blew out my eardrums, can’t hear, don’t know how long.”

He takes a moment to process her message and then clicks his tongue in acknowledgement. Then he turned to shout at All Might. The music went dark and ominous. Kyoka’s eyes darted around the area rapidly for the source as she pressed herself closer to Katsuki, only to be startled by how All Might appeared to be making a triumphant speech. Oh, so it’s going to be that bad, huh?

She noted how Kurogiri's theme was effectively muzzled when Egeshot knocked him unconscious. Then, a new optimistic theme came into play, one centred in the room and echoing from outside and somewhere far away, like how Kurogiri's portal sting echoed when he created a gate. The Soundtrack warns her to get away from All Might and Katsuki as Nomu start clawing their way out of black mud.

For an instant, Kyoka considers it.

She considers running now that she has a ghost of a chance. She wasn’t the focus here. Obviously, she could get to safety. But that would mean facing questions she wouldn't have the answers to. No. That would mean leaving her friend behind. Eyes like pinpricks, terrified just as she was, but where she coped with chatter, he coped with silence. He denies while she deflects. This nightmare would be over for her but not for him. And if he had it his way, if it was just him and no one else, then nobody would be able to make him breathe a word about it. It was how he reacted to the sludge villain incident, too, but not the USJ. Kyoka hears the Soundtrack, always, and she’s always listened to it, even if she couldn’t do anything about what she’s heard. But this time, as she tackles and hugs Katsuki before black sludge spits out of his mouth and envelops them both, she doesn’t listen.

Two thoughts run through her head as they disappear.

Sludge, how fitting. If she were anyone else, this would be when her theme evolved and broke out into something new. But as they hurtled through the darkness, in a blink of an eye, the entire Soundtrack had gone mute save for Katsuki's theme and the operatic voice of whoever was behind this.

Chapter Text

Katsuki stumbled forward, hacking out the last of the black sludge that he could still feel clinging to the inside of his mouth before he opened his eyes. There’s the pressure of arms around him and a weight against his side that he doesn’t need to see to know is Kyoka as he keeps his eyes trained on the villain in front of him. The dumb bitch. She could have escaped; you would have to be an idiot not to see it, and Katsuki was no idiot. She jumped him before the sludge showed up, she knew. Just like she knew whenever the fucking villains showed up.

“My apologies, Bakugo,” the villain said, then he seemed to notice that Kyoka was there as well. “Oh, but what a fortuitous surprise. You brought your little friend with you.”

What the fuck? The League didn’t know how she knew shit before it happened. The teachers obviously didn’t know how she knew this shit since they never listened to her. And now the boss villain was surprised by her. Ears, the fuck? He felt Kyoka let go of him and shift to stand behind him, back to back, as he heard more of the sludge appear, and the League fell out.

“Hearing’s back,” Ears murmured.

Thank fuck.

Katuski risked a glance back at her and noted how her attention seemed to be drifting to his left. There must be something there; whether it was friend or foe, he couldn’t tell, and she couldn’t afford to say.

“So you failed once more, Tomura, but don’t be discouraged,” the villain said, walking towards Shigaraki, who was still kneeling despondently on the ground. He offered Shigaraki his hand. “We can try again. I will support you no matter how many tries it takes.”

“Brace yourself,” Kyoka whispered, taking the chance now that the villains were engaged. Katsuki glanced at her to find her watching the sky. She tilted her head. “All Might’s coming.”

The clouds parted, and the air changed as All Might fell from above, backed by the full moon. Katsuki got his arms in front of his face just in time, as the impact of All Might hitting the boss villain created a blinding rush of wind.

“I’ll have you return my students All for One,” All Might growled.

“Have you come to kill me a second time, All Might?” All for One replied. The idea that this man had escaped All Might once before unsettled Katsuki. He didn’t even want to consider the fact that this All for One was supposed to be dead.

There was a massive release of wind and energy that sent everyone flying. Kyoka, with her back to the fight, manages to tuck, duck, and roll, but Katsuki ends up with a few bruises and scrapes as he tumbles away. There’s more space between them now, which isn’t good. Kyoka recovers first. Somehow, she still has that knife gripped in her jack and hasn’t hurt herself with it yet.

“Looks like it’s time for the boss fight,” she said. She said it loud enough, or maybe he was just close enough, that Shigaraki seemed to hear it because he let out a snort. Katsuki got to his knees, his eyes widening at the canyon that stretched out in front of him, All Might nowhere in sight.

“All Might!” Katsuki shouted as he jumped to his feet.

“Air cannon plus spring-like limbs. Kinetic booster times four, strength enhancer times three, what a delightful combination,” All for One commented.

“Kats, we need to move,” Kyoka hissed. But Katsuki's lost, shock coursing through him. All for One turns to Shigaraki.

“Leave now Tomura, and do take the children with you.” The tips of All for One’s fingers went black with glowing red veins. They extended from his fingers and pierced into Kurogiri's chest. “Kurogiri, warp them away. Forcible quirk activation.”

All Might lept out of the rubble and launched himself straight at All for One. A purple warp gate appeared over Kurogiri, engulfing him.

“Let’s make this quick,” Dabi smirked, he shifted a foot and a wall of flame erupted between Katsuki and Kyoka, isolating them. Katsuki spun around, taking stock of what he was working with. Two-Face, Kaiju Wannabe, Shigaraki and Magne, which meant Kyoka was dealing with Fire Fuck and the Crazy Bitch. Okay, he could work with this. Even if they were willing to use force to take him away, they didn’t want him dead, which put Shigaraki at a disadvantage. All of them were medium to close-range fighters, and he had a mobility advantage.

Two-Face attacked first, throwing out a measuring tape that he wielded like a whip towards Katsuki, who twisted out of the way. Kaiju Wannabe sprinted forward, closing the gap. He tried to take a swipe at Katsuki, who sent a blast at a downward angle, kicking up a light smokescreen and forcing the Kaiju Wannabe to roll off course. Magne charged towards Katsuki, and he used an explosion to launch himself over Magne’s head. Each time they moved towards him, Katsuki would use his explosions to force them back or launch himself into the air and out of their reach. Every time he neared the wall of fire, it got hotter and rose higher, forcing him to move away from it again to avoid activating his quirk involuntarily. He didn’t know how long it was before Kyoka called out through the wall of blue flame.

“Kats! On high!”

Moments later, Katsuki felt a familiar, telltale drop in temperature. As all the villains looked in awe and confusion at the glacier that spontaneously generated, Katsuki narrowed his eyes, tracing the path of a shock of green, red, and blue riding up the glacial ramp just before they went airborne.

Katsuki let his palms spark, but then he hesitated and glanced at the wall of fire beside him, even if he had to dodge back, back, back as the villains advanced. Kyoka seemed to know that he was hesitating and why.

“Go! I'll be right behind you!” she called again. The Crazy Bitch giggled, and Katsuki heard the sound of metal scraping against metal.

“You sure about that?” Fire Fuck growled, and Katsuki heard a rush of fire and a body hitting the ground.

“Be careful with my cute face!” the Crazy Bitch whined.

“Bakugo!” Katsuki looks skyward again at the scream as Shitty Hair extends his hand down towards him. “Come!”

“Kats, go!” Kyoka orders. Katsuki still hesitated, trying to make out a silhouette in the blue and finding nothing. He doesn’t notice Shigaraki reaching towards him but does feel something inside of him pushing against him. It felt like the sparks he created whenever he ignited his nitroglycerine but popped inside his chest, accelerating his heart rate. His body moved without his permission, explosions releasing from his palms and launching him into the sky.

He didn't know if it was the rushing air, or the intermittent feedback from his busted hearing aids, or some combination of the two, but for a moment he swore he heard something. The instrumental to some song he doesn’t recognise, drums that resonate with him for some reason play in harmony with a keyboard and guitars, building up to something he never hears because his hand is clasped by Shitty Hair and Glasses’ voice cuts the music off.

“Bakugo, on my mark-”

“Don't tell me what to do, dammit!”

Even though Katsuki knows what Glasses is going to ask, he can feel them slowing down, too, and looking back, he can see the League scrambling to go after them. But he’s confused and frustrated, and there’s a hollow feeling in his chest now that the music is gone, and he hates not knowing what’s going on with Kyoka. But he used all of that to build up and release another explosion that boosted their momentum and launched them forward. Even after the explosion, the Kaiju Wannabe caught up to them, ready to grab and drag them down. But out of nowhere, Mount Lady appeared, blocking his path with her face. It knocked her out but bought them more time to escape.

Their group continues to soar away from the battlefield, Katsuki’s quirk propelling them where Glasses and Deku’s couldn’t anymore. They land in a back alley. They all stumble upon landing but manage to keep their footing. Katsuki drops Kirishima’s hand and watches the sky in the direction they came, waiting for Kyoka to appear. Shitty Hair didn't get the memo and immediately threw an arm over his shoulder and pressed himself against Katsuki’s side. Katsuki shoved him away this time and twisted his hand out of Kirishima’s hold when the redhead tried to drag him away. His eyes were still on the sky, and he was getting antsy now.

“Kacchan?”

Katsuki twisted away from that voice as fast as he fucking could, an animalistic snarl escaping his lips as he stared at shitty Deku. Glasses looked incensed, which was fine because fuck him. Shitty Hair looked scared, and Katsuki hated that, hated that the person he relied on to be safe felt unsafe but hated even more that it was Dekus’ fault Kirishima was making that face. He hates the way Deku makes him feel like a wild animal, trapped in a corner and fit to burst. He hates the noises he’s making, a noise he hasn’t made in a while because of Muse and Beetle and even the discount shitty Zombie. Deku’s eyes are wide and round, and they flicker back and forth, up and down Katsuki's body too much, lingering too closely for him to relax.

“Where’s Kyoka?” Katsuki said instead, “I know what stupid fucking plan was your shitty idea, you useless Deku. So how the fuck are we getting Ears back?”

There was silence, and the shitty Deku paled. But Deku isn’t a good gauge for a bad situation, so Katsuki looks at Glasses and Shitty Hair instead, and they don’t look good either. Katuski can feel his anger raising his heart rate, a feeling some part of him that he chooses to bury really knows is fear and terror.

“Midoriya?” Glasses asked so fucking softly that Katsuki wanted to tear his hair out.

“What? Are Icy-Hot and Ponytail going to swoop in and grab her while you shitheads ‘protect’ me?” Katsuki sneered, trying to keep some semblance of control. “Or is your discount stalker ass so obsessed with me that you never even noticed that Ears was kidnapped too. And unlike me, she can’t fly.”

When he was faced with only silence, Katsuki scowled and tried to march back the way that they came, only to be stopped by a pair of sharp arms wrapping around his waist. Katsuki tensed, trying to be as still as possible, hoping that Kirishima couldn’t feel how he was shaking or mistook it for shaking in rage.

“Please,” Kirishima begged. His voice was low, but it sent vibrations and shivers up and down his spine, shaking Katsuki to his core. “Don’t go. My heart wouldn’t be able to handle it if you went back.”

Katsuki forced himself to relax and drop his head.

“If Ears doesn't make it, if she’s hurt in any fucking way because you forgot to fucking save her. Then I will kill you all,” he growled before shaking Kirishima off and allowing the three of them to shepherd him away.

Chapter Text

Relief stretched Kyoka’s lips and tugged at her cheeks as she watched Katsuki grab Kirishima's hand and soar away. The reprieve was short-lived, however, as Toga came In to take another slash at her. Kyoka twisted out of the way, using her jack’s superior range to send her own jab at Toga, Toga’s stolen knife clasped in it. The heat Kyoka can feel somewhere behind her intensifies and she rolled forwards as Dabi closes the space even further, raising his walls of fire even higher. With their space even more limited than before Kyoka kept Toga at a three metres distance as she continued to parry Toga’s attacks and forced the blonde to stay away with her own slices and jabs. Kyoka uses the space to manoeuvre back into the middle of their fire-enclosed field, also careful to keep Toga between her and Dabi’s sight line.

Then Toga made a lunging slice at Kyoka’s elongated earlobe instead of towards her body to sever Kyoka’s jack from her ear and get her knife back. Kyoka retracted her jack quickly, letting Toga stumble forward. Now that there was less distance between them, Kyoka had finer control of her jacks’ movement, so she quickly stole Toga’s other knife while pulling the other girl closer and even further off balance before kicking Toga as far away from her as she could. Kyoka slipped the new knife into her hand and readjusted her defensive stance, eyes still trained on the now weaponless Toga. Her now empty jack slithered down her back.

“Aw, you took my knives,” Toga whined with a pout. Then she slipped a second, heavier pair of knives out from under her sweater. “Good thing I always have more.”

Kyoka’s jack slipped into her shoe, plugging into the player that she’d hidden there so long ago. Thank god they didn’t search her body outside of taking her headset. Then Kyoka poked the Soundtrack to see which wall of fire the rest of the League was behind. This time, Kyoka lets Toga get close, but this time, she doesn’t keep Toga carefully in front of Dabi’s line of fire and engages the knife-wielding maniac in close combat. The knife in her jack was used offensively, and her hand knife was used defensively. Kyoka parried and deflected as her other jack plugged into the music player and slid back out of her shoe and up to her waist. Then she disengaged from Toga, and before the blonde could follow after her, Kyoka shot her other jack out at the girl’s chest, channelling her heartbeat into the device and through the player’s small internal speaker. A massive soundwave burst out of the device, blasting Toga backwards through the wall of fire and hopefully into the other members of the League. From the agitated spikes in their themes, Kyoka guessed she hit. Then, the theme of that little yellow blur jumped into her range, pausing right before the wall of fire after muting the themes of the other villains. Kyoka shifted to face Dabi, who blocked her escape route, head-on. The remains of her music player crumbled uselessly to the ground as she turned.

“Nice moves,” the Todoroki said, eyes drawn to the knife gripped in her hand as Kyoka readjusted her hold, “but it looks like you’re all out of tricks.”

His theme pinged, and Kyoka moved, the fire he’d thrown at her flying by harmlessly. The only thing keeping him safe was this ring of fire. The only thing keeping Kyoka here was this ring of fire. He still needed, no, he wanted her alive. Kyoka shifted and sprinted straight at Dabi, knives poised to strike. If he shot fire from his hands, then she’d die, but she knew he wouldn’t do that. Dabi took a deep breath, and the flame walls lowered minutely as he prepared to pen her in with a hand. Kyoka raised the knife, the shadow movements of a stab aimed at his gut.

“Not yet, Todoroki,” she told him as she let the knife fall. Dabi released his breath unexpectedly, no fire accompanying it and the walls had already set up no receding. His eyes lingered on the falling knife, so he didn't notice the yellow blur that was flying at him this time. Kyoka ducked around Dabi and the yellow hero and sprinted off of the battlefield as fast as she could, ducking low behind walls of rubble to stay out of sight.

The Soundtrack felt like it had its hackles raised as it curled around her protectively, the mass of white noise was unsettling at first and for something incorporeal and made of sound her skin felt like it was being wrapped up in static. Instead of looking closer, in case this was an eldritch entity that tangibly perceiving would drive her insane, she grasped for Katsuki's theme and booked it in his direction. When this was over, she was going to have a massive migraine. She used the Soundtrack to keep track of how the battle was going as she moved, also using it to avoid large crowds and heroes leading evacuation efforts as she beelined towards Katsuki.

She found him with his rescuers in the middle of the street, watching a news broadcast of the fight on a billboard television screen. The air between them was tense. Kirishima was pressed against Katsuki's side, but Katsuki refused to look the other in the eye. Iida stood by Midoriya a little ways off, but he kept glancing back at Katsuki and Kirishima as if to make sure they hadn’t run off. Midoriya was on the phone with Todoroki. She paused nearby, still visible but just out of direct sightline. She wondered why they hadn’t noticed her yet. Usually, Katsuki especially had much better spatial awareness. She felt the white noise slowly receding.

“Yeah, our rescue totally worked,” Midoriya assured Todoroki. Katsuki scoffed.

“A rescue? That’s not what happened back there! You fucking extras left the Snitch Bitch behind.”

“So? What’d I miss?” Kyoka interrupted as she took a step closer, a slightly manic adrenaline-fueled bounce in her step. Katsuki’s head snapped to her immediately, and he sprinted at her, throwing his arms around her and wrapping Kyoka in a tight hug. For a moment, Kyoka struggled from her off-balance position to support both of their weight and was only saved by Kirishima pulling Katsuki back onto his own feet by the back of his shirt collar. Kyoka noted how, despite his stress and impulsivity, he was still careful not to touch her skin or clothes when he squeezed her tight. “Woah, careful there, Kats; I still have a knife on me!”

Katsuki let go and stumbled backwards until he bumped up against Kirishima's chest. The other boys wouldn’t notice, but Katsuki's cheeks turned a faint red when he realised what he’d just done. Kyoka didn’t even have time to send him a teasing smirk before Katsuki was back on her like a worried mother hen.

“Where the fuck did you come from!” Katsuki stressed, running a hand through his hair. If you looked closely, you could see a spark flicker between his palm and head. Before he placed that hand tentatively on Kyoka's shoulder as if he had to make extra sure that she was really there. “Where did you fucking go!”

Kyoka shrugged his hand off and rolled her head around, “Oh, you know, around.”

Then she gave him a proper hug telegraphing her movement so that the blonde had time to raise his hands out of the way. “I’m alright, Kit Kat”

“I thought you had a knife?” he grumbled. Now that the initial panic had subsided and he recalled exactly who was around them, he’d put his aloof mask back on.

“I do. I just know where it is," Kyoka replied, pulling back and showing it off, grasped in one of her jacks.

“I’m glad you are alright, Jiro,” Iida said as the group shuffled closer together, a hand over his heart. “Bakugo made it seem something terrible might have happened to you after we left.”

“I’m alright,” Kyoka replied with a strained smile. “It’s not like I could have followed you. The only way you could safely go was over, and I can't fly.”

“Tell that to Kacchan,” Midoriya mumbled.

“You don’t get to fucking talk Deku!”

Then, there was a gasp, and a hushed clamour fell over the crowd of people as they pointed and stared at the building-mounted television. Kyoka finally looked up at the screen herself and standing there in the middle of a broken city-turned-crater was the emancipated form of Yagi Toshinori in All Might’s costume and in All Might's place.

Chapter Text

And suddenly the world was a loud, panicked, desperate mess. Fear, despair and rage filled the crowd around her and people all across the world. But for Kyoka, it was quieter than any living memory she had. All she could hear was one theme, a lone opera singer and her feeble accompaniment filled the Soundtrack with this pitiful song of depression. Katsuki and Midoriya screamed out for their idol, louder than anyone else in the crowd and still the world was practically silent for Kyoka. Even as All Might found his resolve to keep fighting, All for One’s theme still dominated. But Kyoka has lived with the Soundtrack since she could make concrete memories and her quirk lets her hear the things no one else can hear. So even as the Soundtrack played along to All for One’s belief that he had complete control and total domination of the situation Kyoka could still make out someone else proccing at the edge of her range. All Might may think of himself as a solitary pillar but-

“Don’t worry, unlike All for One, Yagi doesn’t have to fight alone,'' Kyoka murmured reassuringly. Midoriya froze while the others looked at her strangely.
Fire erupted between All Might and All for One and Endeavor and Edgeshot arrived. Endeavor screamed something at All Might and the mood in the Soundtrack finally changed. A wordless chorus accompanied by high strings and soft but firm brass entered the score. It crescendoed as the other heroes sprung into action as declarations of duty that the cameras couldn’t pick up left their lips.

The cheers of the crowds were louder now, Kirishima and even the ever-stoic Iida joined in. Then those cheers were almost immediately snuffed out, All for One rising higher in the sky and warping and mutating his arm with a combination of quirks likely selected to specifically counter All Might’s. Now, while everyone else wavered Kyoka continued to smile. No matter how hard All for One’s theme tried to wrest control of the Soundtrack from hope Kyoka could still hear it, she latched on to it, pulling it closer.

“The light of hope shines its brightest in the dark.”

The punches clashed, All Might literally losing ground as he was pushed backwards leaving tracks in the ground. Then, All Might switched his power from one hand to the other and punched All for One again in his vulnerable and unguarded side.
Now Kyoka tries something that she had first tried on Katsuki just earlier. She pushed the hopeful theme out into the crowds around her like she had pushed the Soundtrack at Katsuki to try and get him to leave with Kirishima because she was too far away to push him physically. She still doesn’t know if it does anything, or what she wanted it to do now but she does it again anyway. She just wishes that they could hear the hope and drive she could, to reassure them like the Soundtrack has assured her. Because All Might isn’t giving up just yet.

His heroic fanfare harmonised with the climax of his hope theme as he strengthened his now broken arm. He brought the arm back and pressed forward, delivering the final blow with his bruised and broken arm.

Kyoka glanced over at Midoriya, fat tears streamed uncontrollably down his face as he looked at the screen in devastation and awe. Honestly, it was hard to miss how All Might and Midoriya’s themes were related to each other, but not in the same familiar way as the Bakugos’ and Todorokis’.

Where the Bakugos created a genre-specific band and the Todorokis, or the male ones that she’d met so far, had the same drum pattern in their scores, Midoriya and All Might had a thematic relationship in echoing motifs. Kyoka figured at first that it was idolisation and influence, to a massive degree. But she would later come to learn that those types of motifs were permutations or reflections, not echoes and those types of motifs didn’t evolve and grow alongside their originator. Spinner was a reflection of Stain, Dabi and Toga were permutations. It was even harder to decipher who in the pair was influencing who.

All Might punched All for One with a bruised and broken arm, something Midoriya was known for because of the Sports Festival, specifically during the part of his score that held his shared motif with Midoriya. Well, Kyoka’s brushed aside a lot of stuff she’s deciphered from the Soundtrack, dismissing it as her thinking too hard or only her interpretation informed by her bias. But at this point, there was nothing left to second guess. All Might stood triumphant over his fallen foe, a fist in the air while he was backed by his theme and his theme alone. The operatic despair is carried away by hope, leaving the stage for the proud fanfare of a classic-style hero.

It was a while later after everything began to calm down when Kyoka heard All Might’s theme play in the Soundtrack again. Kyoka turned her attention back to the TV screen, dragging everyone else’s attention with her. The feed had shifted focus to containment and rescue in the aftermath of the battle, still following the heroes at work in the rubble and the police locking All for One up for transportation. Yagi pointed at the camera that he noticed was nearby, face turned away from it. Then the theme shifted, transitioning easily from his into Midoriya’s.

“Now, it’s your turn.”

Kyoka turned to Midoriya as tears fell like a waterfall down his face again. She noticed Katsuki watching Midoriya like she was. A careful look passed between them, a silent understanding that All Might’s final message as a hero was for Midoriya and Midoriya alone. Even if Katsuki would refuse to believe it.

Chapter Text

“Is it a good idea to bring Naomasa to this?” Yagi asked.

“It’s necessary. We didn’t have a chance to interview her when Midoriya and the others delivered them to the station,” Tsukauchi explained. “We were too busy with cleanup and they were both being treated as victims before witnesses or suspects.”

“Besides, throwing her off guard may be the best way to get the truth out of her,” Shota added, “we can just explain it was logical for us all to come together when we were all headed to the same place.”

“Treating a student as a suspect when we have nothing but circumstantial evidence still doesn’t feel right,” Yagi sighed heavily, “not with everything that has been going on. But I suppose the possibility of a traitor is too great a danger to ignore.”

Shota pulled the car up to Jiro's house. It was a sleek modern two-story building sandwiched between older residential apartment buildings and ground-floor storefronts scattered around the area. They got out of the car and Shota approached the intercom, but it came to life before he ever touched it.

“Please come in,” the voice of Jiro Mika filtered through the static as the gate clicked unlocked, “we’ve been expecting you.”

The three men shared a look and Shota and Tsukauchi gestured for Yagi to take the lead. Was this uncanny predictive ability a family thing or had Mrs Jiro just been standing there waiting all morning? They could only hope that their attempt to catch Jiro off guard had not been squandered. Mrs Jiro was waiting at the front door to escort them inside.

“We can talk in the living room, my husband is already waiting for us,'' Mrs Jiro smiled gracefully, stopping and guesting at an open doorway.

“Excuse me ma’am but I'm wondering where your daughter is? I'm Detective Tsukauchi, from the police department and I’m here to do a follow-up and interview with her regarding the Kamino incident,” Tsukauchi asked politely after Shota and Yagi had entered the living room. He removed his hat and bowed his head as he introduced himself, pausing in the doorway before the mother.

“She’s gone to the kitchen to grab some drinks!” the masculine voice of Kyotoku Jiro called from the living room. “Gives us a bit to talk in private, you dig?”

“Of course sir,'' Shota drawled. “Though I don't know how private it could really be called considering the range of your daughter’s quirk.”

Surprisingly the Jiro’s seemed to take that comment good-naturedly. Mrs Jiro snorted and chuckled while the severe, stern face Mr Jiro was wearing cracked a little.

“Even so we like providing the allusions of privacy to our guests when we can,” Mrs Jiro smiled.

“Besides, our little rockstar isn’t the nosy, prying type anyway,'' Mr Jiro agreed. Shota and Yagi then took turns outlining all of the conditions and reasons Principal Nedzu had had them memorise regarding why and how the dorm system was being implemented for the students. They also outlined the withdrawal, internal transfer and external transfer processes that U.A. had or was offering if that was what they wanted to do. Finally, they circled back to the security measures being put in place to further ensure the students' safety. Despite their suspicions of her they still had to treat Jiro like any other student, at least for now.

“I don’t know, sounds pretty out of tune to me,” Mr Jiro drawled, leaning back against the couch. Despite it seeming capable of seating three to four people he sat in a way so that he took up as much room on it as possible. His wife, who sat beside him, was the opposite. She sat in a manner that was perfectly prim and proper, choosing to take up as little space as possible. “I get that you guys don’t want to keep talking about what happened, but moving the kids into dorms isn’t going to change the fact that my daughter was kidnapped.”

“I understand, and that is true. However, I would still like to assure you that this is not a matter of pride. We’ve thought long and hard about this and believe that this is the best course of action.” Shota turned and gestured to Tsukauchi. “That is why the detective is here with us today. To figure out why your daughter was taken in the first place. So I hope you will give us the honour of continuing to teach Kyoka. I do not doubt that U.A. can help her grow into the best hero she can be.”

There was a click that had Shota’s head snapping towards the door. Jiro entered the room, her ear jacks manoeuvring the door handles as she carried a tray of three drinks between her hands.

“Woah, no need to be so formal Mr Aizawa,” she said as she walked over. She used her jacks to pick up and place a single mug of tea on the table in front of Yagi. “We decided what we were going to do as soon as we got the notice in the mail.”

Instead of putting the other two glasses down, Kyoka turned to her parents.

“Mom, Dad? Is it okay if I take Mr Aizawa and the detective upstairs to do that interview while you guys keep talking with All Might?”

“Of course. Whatever makes you comfortable dear.”

Jiro gestured for them to follow her with a jack as she carried the two other mugs away with her. They followed her to the second floor of her house and into a room that appeared to be a study but it also had a piano, music stands and a collection of instrument cases scattered about alongside the standard desk and bookshelf. Jiro set the tray of drinks on the work desk, a collection of coasters stacked nearby, before taking a seat on the piano stool. She waited for them to settle, though neither sat, before speaking.

“This isn’t an interview is it?” she asked, there was a knowing glint in her eyes and something sad in her smile. The ‘you want to interrogate me’ silently hung between them. Shota’s hand reached up to his capture scarf as he prepared to slip into a combat stance if the need arose. Tsukauchi’s hand slipped to hover near his gun as well.

“How did you know?” Shota asked carefully.

“Isn't that what you’re here to find out?” Jiro countered. Her body language was still, relaxed, everything about her screamed harmless despite her words setting off sirens in Shota’s head. “So tell me, what do you think you know?”

The two adults looked at each other, nodded, and then relaxed. Tsukauchi turned to Jiro to speak first.

“Before we begin I am obligated to tell you that my quirk is called polygraph and allows me to tell when your words are truth or lies.” Jiro's expression seemed to brighten and Shota was startled at the realisation that what he thought was Jiro’s relaxed posture was actually carefully chosen and controlled. The kid took after her mother in appearance, but she sat like her father, shifting to sit cross-legged on the stool and taking up as much space as she could. Her spine slouched as she braced her elbows against her thighs.

“Let’s start with the first incident. The USJ, where you were able to predict that the League would be arriving before they did. Then, there was the mall incident. Where you identified Shigaraki’s presence before anyone else and were able to navigate directly to him. Midoriya reported that, while Shigaraki threatened him, he did not do the same to you and left when you arrived. He also reported that you knew it was Shigaraki despite not wanting to do the test of courage, which placed you when and where the League attacked. Then, you were taken even though you weren’t one of their stated targets.”

Jiro was startled at that, her expression filled with confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Shota asked, interrupting Tsukauchi.

“Nothing, just keep going.” Jiro waved them off, and when neither of them continued she sighed. “I’ll tell you after?”

When it was clear that that wouldn’t work either she ran a hand down her face and said, “Shigaraki implied that I was a target from the start. I'm pretty sure the questions you’re going to ask me are probably going to be the exact same as what Shigaraki asked.”

“Truth,” Tsukauchi frowned. Then continued with his list just for completion. “Back during the break in Yagi also said you were found inside the school halls after everyone had been evacuated and on further reflection were missing from the headcount at the evacuation point. Though Lunch Rush can account for you.”

“So, basically. Because of my ability to know that danger, so far the League specifically, is coming or present, you think that means that I'm the League’s spy,” Jiro summarised, a mischievous glint came to her eye and her mouth tugged up into a smirk. So far the faculty was only entertaining the idea that there was a traitor because of a process of elimination but Jiro was certain that the League did have a spy. How did she get that information?

“That is correct.”

“Okay, so the truth is that I can hear the world’s Soundtrack and the boss music is a dead giveaway,” she said with a shrug. The intonation was precise, she barely hesitated over her word choice despite saying something so outlandish; she’d practised this. She had to be messing with them. Shota turned to Tsukauchi who looked about as dumbfounded as Shota felt.

“Truth.”

“How would that even work?” Shota found himself asking, still pressing her story for holes even with Tsukauchi’s confirmation. Jiro tilted her head.

“Everyone has a theme, if they are within my range then I can hear it. Since every theme is unique I can track and identify. Someone’s theme is a representation of who they are,” Jiro listed, oddly clinical, and not in the comedic manner she had just prior.

“True,” Tsukauchi said absently, finally resigning himself to jotting this down even though he was absolutely flabbergasted. “I’m sorry, hang on. Your quirk is registered as Earphone Jacks.”

He flipped through to an earlier page in his notebook where he had noted down the official description of Jiro’s quirk.

“You can turn your heartbeat into amplified sound waves by inserting your plugs into surfaces and objects. This also allows you to hear quiet sounds.”

“That's what my file says,'' Jiro said with a smile that promised mischief. She could see Tsukauchi was beating around the bush and even Shota could guess why this never showed up in her files.

“Why is nothing about this Soundtrack in there?” For a detective he seemed really slow on the uptake.

“Detective, if you didn’t have the quirk you did, would you have believed me? A four-year-old me who had just come into their quirk that had something to do with super hearing and was constantly insisting they could hear music that was coming from nowhere?”

“I would like to think so. At the very least I would have asked for some substantial evidence to support that claim. Like maybe you tell me what you can decipher about me from my theme.”

“Yeah, the last person who said that was my psychiatrist, the first was my doctor. The first instant I told a closeted gay old fart with internalised homophobia that he was gay.” Shota winced, Kyoka turned and pointed at him. “Yeah, that, exactly that. Then I did the same for my psychiatrist. Literally the same because it turns out that they were gay for each other and the reason that the Soundtrack prodded me into unintentionally selecting them as my doctor and psychiatrist was that their pseudo-sexual tension with each other prevented them from realising they both thought I suffered from auditory hallucinations and locking me up in a looney bin.”

“That still doesn’t explain why what you said the first time, about you being able to hear the League coming because of your quirk, was true,” Tsukauchi pointed out.

“That’s because I didn’t say that, you did. Besides, the Soundtrack is technically… a quirk of mine?”

“Tsukauchi, I can’t believe your quirk was circumvented by a stupid semantic difference,” Shota deadpanned with a grin.

“That is understandable,” Kyoka interjected, “Polygraph tests are a bunk science anyway.”

Tsukauchi scowled but continued his questioning, “You said that Shigaraki implied they were after you from the start but Midoriya said that they were only after Bakugo?”

“Yeah, well Midoriya is a little obsessed with Bakugo. I mean, this is the guy who came up with this massive convoluted plan to extract Bakugo from the Kamino ward situation but completely forgot that I was there.”

“How can you be sure he forgot?”

“We’re talking about Midoriya, he has a hero complex a mile wide and wouldn’t hesitate to put himself into a dangerous situation to help someone. Ergo, he forgot about me.”

“So you’re implying that when Midoriya informed me that the League was after Bakugo he may have overlooked mentioning you as well?” Shota asked.

“I don’t know you’d have to ask him.” Shota and Tsukauchi shared a look. They’d have Yagi look into it later.

“What else did the League say during your kidnapping?” Tsukauchi asked.

“They mentioned that they had an informant in U.A. But considering your suspicions of it being me I figure you already knew that. That was when they tried to recruit me and Katsuki to their cause. But they said they captured me to ask the exact same things you did, they wanted to know how I knew that they were coming. Either to avoid it or use it to their advantage. I didn’t tell them anything about the Soundtrack though.”

“So it all comes back to this strange quirk of yours,” Tsukauchi murmured.

“I don’t actually think the Soundtrack is a quirk,” Jiro interjected. “Midoriya would probably know more than I would but considering Mr Aizawa cannot erase the Soundtrack while he can prevent the movement of my earphone jacks, and the Soundtrack can not be classified as an emitter, transformation or mutation type, and there is no biological evidence that the Soundtrack is present in my physiology at all, I don’t think it could scientifically classify as a quirk. It's not an emitter because it’s always active, same with transformation, so it would have to be a mutation-type quirk. However, when doctors examined the structure of my ears they found that they were internally altered to be more sensitive and allow for my greater hearing, but nothing about how my ears are altered is conducive to anything the Soundtrack does or tells me. The Soundtrack doesn’t produce real sound, no matter how loud or intense it gets my ears won’t break from it. The only thing the Soundtrack can impact is my brain.”

“Your overstimulation?”

Jiro nodded.

“I have two levels of hearing baseline, everything in the Soundtrack and my normal hearing, when my quirk is jacked in and active, I have three. That doesn’t even begin to account for the Soundtrack being sentient and omniscient.”

This was getting ridiculous and Shota could feel a headache coming on. He stalked over to the desk where Jiro left the mugs before picking one up and downing it in one go. He was surprised to find that, instead of the tea that he had seen Jiro set in front of Yagi, he was chugging coffee. He took a deep breath before approaching his student and bowing his head.

“I’m sorry for suspecting you. I'm sorry that you’ve never been given any real help because of adults who think they know better. And I promise that U.A. will provide you with all of the resources we can to figure this out and I hope we haven’t soured your perception of us so much that you refuse help or my selfish request.

“You’ve used this ability of yours to help us as best as you can so far. For the sake of yourself and your fellow students can I count on you to work with us and use it to help me and the rest of the staff keep you all safe?”

“Man Mr Aizawa, I told you earlier that you didn’t have to be so formal,” Jiro said with a smile and a tilt of her head. “ ‘course, I'll help where I can. It's not like I'll be doing anything I haven't already. And who knows, I might just like being taken seriously for once.”

She paused and closed her eyes in consideration. “But you’ll have to do something for me, please. Shigaraki dusted my headphones and I busted my player getting away from Toga and Dabi. I need replacements and I know my parents won’t ask for compensation even though they’re entitled to it”

“Those are medical devices that can easily be arranged.”

“Before we finish up,” Tsukauchi called, “out of curiosity, how did you go so long without anyone figuring it out?”

“A policy of don’t ask, don't tell and liberal use of squinting modifiers in official documents. I don’t correct people when they misinterpret things either. After all, most think my quirk is very obvious,” the kid explained smugly, a lithe sly grin pulling at her lips as she feigned disinterest by staring blankly across the room.

The next house that Yagi and Shota visited was that of the Bakugos. The house looked older than the Jiro’s but it was grander, with an extra story and an additional wing on the side. Yagi and Shota expected that this talk would be much harder than the Jiro’s but they had scarcely explained anything before Bakugo Mitsuki interjected with a grin. She smacked Bakugo on the back of his head before saying:

“You kidding? Hell yeah get this kid in a dorm!” she crowed. Bakugo scowled, lashing out at his mother.

“You Hag! Hit me again and I'll kill you!” his mother hit him again, matching his energy and only escalating the situation.

“Oh hush, if you hadn’t been so damn weak you never would have gotten caught and caused all that trouble!” she shouted.

“Enough, the both of you. Mistuki, would you call that Jiro girl weak?” Mr Bakugo interjected. Bakugo’s head snapped to his father as if he was surprised that he was speaking up at all.

“Hell no,” Mrs Bakugo huffed, crossing her arms, “the kid could stand up to me and the brat at the same time like it was nothing.”

“Well since she got kidnapped too aren’t you also calling her weak? Would you blame her for getting kidnapped?”

“No.”

“Then don’t blame our son. I know that you were worried about him but this isn’t the best way to express it dear.”

“Uh, so you’re saying that we have your consent?” Shota intervened, hoping to change tracks and stop things from escalating further. Mrs Bakugo’s stern demeanour seemed to crack anyway and she smiled softly at the teachers.

“Yeah. Katsuki’s fearless and good at everything he tries. Especially because of his quirk.” She ruffled Bakugo's hair roughly, but affectionately. “People have always fawned over him whether he deserved it or not.

“I’m grateful for what you said at the press conference, it told me you were watching him closely. We still trust you so we’ll leave Katsuki to you. Right?”

Mr Bakugo nodded at his wife. Then placed a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder. “Besides, taking him away from the real friends he’s made that have helped him grow so much would be cruel.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue, crossed his arms and curled in on himself, refusing to look at anyone. “Ears doesn’t deserve the shit you give me.”

His parents bowed their heads, Mrs Bakugo's hand in Katsuki's hair forcing him to bow as well. “We know that he’s hot-tempered and a pain, but please train him well.”

It’s Bakugo who walks the two teachers out of the door and to their car, even though he’s not supposed to leave the building but Shota lets it slide when he sees his father take his mother aside with a stern expression on his face. When they reached the relative privacy of the front yard Bakugo called out to Yagi.

“All Might, what is Deku to you? Really?” he asked. Eyes narrowed, sharp and analytical.

“Um. He’s a student, just like you,'' Yagi replied. His expression was uncertain and he hesitated as if carefully considering his words. Shota knew Bakugo picked up on it too as his eyes turned to slits like a cat’s.

“Sure, don’t tell me. That’s fine.” Bakugo turned around and headed back into his house, pausing before going back inside. “Oh, and thanks.”

Midoriya lived in an apartment complex nearby so that was where they decided to go next. However, Yagi insisted that he should be allowed to do this alone. Shota narrowed his eyes at Yagi. With that sort of behaviour, he really isn’t disproving Bakugo's assumption that there was something more going on with him and Midoriya. He briefly considered asking Jiro what the Soundtrack had to say about that because even Shota was getting the sense that this was more than what he’d at first assumed was favouritism.

“Are you sure?” Shota asked.

“Yeah, we need to get through all of class A by the day’s end right? So we should divide and conquer.”

“Fine,” Shota agreed. “Just do me a favour and ask Midoriya something for me.”

“Oh, of course. What is it?”

Half an hour later Shota would receive a text confirming what Jiro had thought and Shota had feared.

Yagi: muscular apparently mentioned something about a ‘punk rock chick’ that slipped Midoriya’s mind in the chaos.

Kyoka meanwhile had received a text from Katuski as she workshopped the notation of a new instrumental that she’d picked up in the Soundtrack recently.

Kit kat:
What did you do to my dad?

Snitch bitch:
Nothing, why?

Kit kat:
Because the doormat stood up to the old hag for once.
Because of you.

Snitch bitch:
Huh.

Kit kat:
The old hag backed down when he brought you up too.

Snitch bitch:
… Why do I get the feeling that they like me more than they like you?

Kit kat:
Don’t fucking know and fuck them for it.

Chapter Text

Eleven days before the term was set to start, the students all began to move into their new dorm buildings in Heights Alliance. Cementoss had constructed the dorms in three days. As usual, Kyoka was one of the first to arrive, cataloguing and tracking all of the students that came in. She was glad to hear the class arriving, all twenty students of 1A from the beginning of the year. Even Mineta, if only to a much lesser extent. Mr Aizawa had arrived early for once, too, a thermos of steaming coffee in hand as he stood in front of the dorms, refusing to let anyone inside.

When Mr Aizawa arrived, he pulled her aside and discreetly handed her a small device. It was shaped like a guitar pick and was the same red as what she used on her costume with a quaver decal in the centre. It was attached to a long adjustable cord so that she could wear it as a necklace and still keep the device hidden under any low-cut collar she owned. Kyoka put the device on, the pick resting at the head of her sternum under her uniform. This was the panic button that they’d agreed to give her, a compromise between her refusal to engage in gossip or be a spy who regularly reported on her classmates and her ability to act as an early warning system.

Throughout the rest of the break, Kyoka had some back and forth with her teacher regarding how best to accommodate the Soundtrack moving forward. Especially as it was now, if unknowingly, a primary interest of the League. For now, they’d agreed to keep its existence out of the public record and maintain the secret of its existence among the staff and the students until their leak was caught. The conversation Mr Aizawa, Principal Nedzu and Tsukauchi had with her regarding the traitor had been an interesting one too. Since she now knew what the ‘traitor’ sting sounded like, all she had to do was pinpoint the theme with that sting and identify them. The issue was being able to isolate a theme for long enough to dissect it all with everything else going on around her, but she had plenty of experience with that so long as she had her headphones to assist her. As soon as Principal Nedzu had found out about the Soundtrack, he had insisted on arranging for Kyoka to meet a specialist regarding the Soundtrack and her quirk rather than her absentminded G.P to see if there was anything new someone with better skills or equipment could tell them, but Kyoka had objected to it; there were some things you didn’t push.

Mr Aizawa also handed her a hard carrying case containing her new headphones and music player. She opened the case to examine them, smiling when she found both devices were headphone jack compatible. Then, she zipped the case back up and tucked it under her arm.

“If they need any adjustments then Power Loader is expecting you, but we recreated them from your blueprints so it should just be calibration,” Mr Aizawa explained. “You should have time after my brief to do that when you set up your rooms.”

“Right,” Kyoka nodded before returning to the growing crowd of students.

“What was that about?” Koji asked as she approached his eyes, tracking Shota warily.

“New headset and player. I broke mine during the kidnapping, and the school offered to cover the cost for a new set,'' Kyoka explained easily. When the whole class had finally arrived Mr Aizawa called for their attention.

“Given everything that has happened, I am glad we were able to bring all of class A back together,” Mr Aizawa began. “I’ll explain how your dorm assignments haven’t forgotten about the provisional hero licences you were supposed to get during the training camp.”

“Oh yeah, that’s what we were there for. It had totally slipped my mind,'' Ashido said, turning to Sero and Kaminari. There were mumbled agreements among the rest of the class.

“This is important, so listen up,” Mr Aizawa said, interrupting before his students could devolve into low chatter. “Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, Midoriya, Todoroki, Iida. You five broke the law and went to Kamino that night.”

It wasn’t like Kyoka didn’t already know it from the Soundtrack that night or from Koji’s texts during the break, but the dead silence confirmed that the entire class knew. And Mr Aizawa had probably figured that out, too. His theme grew louder and sharper as his gaze hardened. “Based on your reactions, I assume the rest of you were at least aware of their plan. I'm going to set aside several issues. But if it weren’t for All Might’s retirement from the hero scene, I would expel everyone here except Bakugo, Jiro and Hagakure. The five that went and their enablers. You betrayed our trust. To regain our confidence you’ll have to follow every rule to the letter. That’s all.

“Now come in and take a look around.”

Mr Aizawa's theme faded and the class came into focus, many drooping and slipping into a sorrowful minor key. Kyoka scowled at the fear she could feel drifting around her like a growing miasma.

“It wouldn’t have mattered and you know it,” Kyoka called at his retreating back. Mr Aizawa paused as he walked up the steps to the dorm building. He seemed surprised and a little put out that Kyoka was suddenly calling him out so directly when she and her friends used to do so discreetly. But hey, that’s what happens when he promises to listen to her, and she doesn’t have to fear the question, ‘How do you know that?’. “They’ve made it clear that they’d be heroes with or without your permission. This was the best way to keep them safe, not just from the League but from themselves, because you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. You wouldn’t have expelled them.”

Mr Aizawa turned around to face her fully. He was challenging how far she’d go to defend her classmates. Katsuki glanced at her in confusion. Both hung the same implication over her head: did they deserve her defence when one of them betrayed all of them to the League? But Kyoka had resolved to fight for them a long time ago and had come to a realisation that she supposed they hadn’t just yet. If the entire class, barring Hagakure, knew about the rescue plan, then the traitor not only hadn’t informed the teachers of what they were planning, but they hadn't informed the League either. Whether that was a time constraint or a moral choice, Kyoka wasn’t sure, but she was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. For now.

“If they hadn’t come, we probably wouldn’t be here,” Kyoka declared. Her voice was confident, firm and knowing. She stepped forward and grabbed Katsuki's sleeve. “Things could have been so much worse.

“And no offence about my lack of faith in your abilities, sir. But you’ve burned me before. Why should they have listened to you when it’s clear you don’t listen to us?”

“Jiro,” Iida hissed sternly.

“That’s such a manly thing to say,” Kirishima whispered in awe.

“I’m not going to let him scare you for doing a good thing. Even if it wasn’t technically ‘right’," Kyoka argued, head snapping in Iida's direction. Then her tone suddenly went deadpan. “And what were we supposed to do if they hadn’t intervened? Wait for Endeavor to save us? The man’s a flaming pile of garbage that would sooner let Katsuki become ground zero than turn off his flames for our safety.”

Todoroki’s face pinched, and a breathless snort escaped from his lips. Well, at least someone appreciated her humour. There was a pause before Katsuki snorted as well.

“Like I'd let that bastard take me anywhere,” he said, raising his head and jutting his chin out so that he was looking down his nose at Mr Aizawa. That seemed to get everyone else imagining the two of them interacting with each other and soon the class was light chuckles and mumbled comments. Mr Aizawa closed his eyes with a huff, but when he opened them again, there was a quirk on his lips that he tried to hide in his scarf, and his gaze was softer. Kyoka was going to give Katsuki an apologetic look for making him the punchline for a joke, but he had already stomped over to Kirishima while the rest of the class milled about aimlessly. Kyoka wasn’t the leader type, but she decided to take the initiative and head into the dorms, hoping that everyone else would take the hint and follow.

“The girls are on the right side of the building, and the boys are on the left. The entire first floor is a common area where you can find the kitchen and laundry rooms. Living quarters are on the next floor, one person to a room with an en suite bathroom. Ac, minifridge and closets are provided," Mr Aizawa explained as he toured them around the first floor. Then he took them back to the main living room, where a collection of keys was laid out waiting for them, along with a poster with all of the room assignments. Each key was attached to a tag that had the room number and one of their names written on them. Iida and Yaomomo immediately began handing out keys without prompting. “These are your room assignments. The belongings you sent ahead have already been placed in your rooms, so you can spend the day unpacking and getting settled. The unoccupied rooms aren’t officially for free use but have been left unlocked for your convenience. I'll tell you more about the rest of our summer training tomorrow, but for now, you have work to do. Any questions?”

Kyoka raised her hand as she looked at the keys and tag that Yaomomo had handed to her. Keys because where everyone else only had one key, Kyoka's tag was attached to two. “Why do I have two keys?”

“Mic noticed that most of your things were music stuff and insisted that you had your own space to play and record. Something about mental separation and why his radio studio isn’t in his agency, and why he doesn’t bring radio work to school even if he has to bring hero stuff to school. It's also been soundproofed, so you don’t disturb anybody else.”

“Isn’t that unfair? Because Jiro gets twice the space that we do,” Hagakure called.

“Do any of you have hobbies that need their own space that U.A. doesn’t already provide for? No? Then no. But if you do have a hobby you have the materials for but not the space to do, then tell one of the staff, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Kyoka made her way up the stairs to the third floor, which she shared with Hagakure. She started with her bedroom because her technical gear would take a lot longer and was less immediately important. She started with her clothes and smaller items, trying to find homes for the things she had before putting furniture up or decorating. She put her posters up above the desk the school provided since she had a separate room for her disk rack and playing decks she could keep the dresser they’d also provided but junked it for a more open floor plan. All her clothes fit in the closet anyway, her stationery fits on the desk, and it would be easier to put books on the bookshelf she bought rather than in a dresser. As she put her bedsheets on and pinned her deep dope tarp on the wall adjacent to the bed, she debated putting her chequered carpet in this room or the music one. She eventually settled on putting it in her bedroom and resolved to buy a red one for the other one as she changed out the curtains for a deep red set and began laying carpet and wallpaper. Her room was done an hour after noon, and she took a moment to look around and bask. She could hear everyone’s themes from where she was standing.

Kyoka decided to take a break before moving on to the music room with all of her heavy equipment. As she wandered downstairs into the common area, she wondered if Uraraka was done with her own room and maybe down to help Kyoka move heavy and delicate speakers. She walked aimlessly around the common area for a bit as she grabbed a glass of water and noticed a sheet with all their dorm assignments on the table. Todoorki was on the fifth floor. Well, she was taking a break and this was probably the best time to catch him alone to talk. This was going to be painful and a part of her was telling her to wait until she found the traitor, until it was safe to tell them about the Soundtrack to bring this up. Another told her Todoroki deserved to know and that she had a debt to repay.

Chapter Text

Kyoka knocked on Todoroki's door twice. There was some muffled banging and a bit of shuffling before the door opened a crack, and Todoroki's neutral face peered through it.

“Jiro,” he nodded.

“Can I come in?” Kyoka asked. Todoroki glanced nervously behind him. “There’s something I need to tell you. In private.”

Todoroki tilted his head, then acquiesced, letting go of the door and disappearing back into his room. “Just be careful, I'm refurbishing.”

“I can see that,” Kyoka commented as she entered and shut the door behind her. He was replacing the floorboards with tatami matting. Kyoka took a moment to acknowledge that Todoroki wasn’t the traitor as his theme played in isolation in a space totally dedicated to him.

“It’s about the League of Villains. I don’t know if you saw it, but the guy I was fighting. The one with the blue flames? Todoroki, I think he’s your brother.”

“Natsuo doesn’t have a fire quirk.” Todoroki’s voice was terse. The next floorboard he tore out split down the grain. Kyoka persevered, unafraid, though she stayed by the door to avoid splinters.

“Toya does.” Because Kyoka does not trust the Soundtrack blindly, despite first appearances, at least when she has the time to do her due diligence. And as much as Japan hates talking about death and avoids acknowledging that death is a thing because of how disgraceful or dishonourable or dirty it is, death certificates still exist, and obituaries are publicly available.

“Did,” Todoroki insisted. Kyoka heard anger leak into his voice for the first time. Even when talking about everything his father had done to his family, his voice was dead, not angry. Todoroki tried to remove another floorboard, but this time, it splintered in his hands, half of it still on the floor. Todoroki stopped, looking at the fractured pieces of wood. His chest heaved. He blinked rapidly and dropped the wood fracture to the side. Finally, he addressed Kyoka but refused to look at her, staring at the splintered wood still stuck in the ground like it held all his answers. “Even if you’re right, how do you know for sure?”

“... Can you keep a secret? Actually, no, that’s a dumb question. Will you promise not to say anything until I give the okay? Katsuki’s going to be mad enough that I told you first, and I don't need Mr Aizawa on my case either.”

“Yes, sure. Why?” Todoroki replied, stopping what he was doing to give her his full attention.

“Long story short, I hear music from, maybe God, that tells me stuff, and this was one of them,” Kyoka replied bluntly. Todoroki blinked slowly, eyes turning glassy, and he stared off into the middle distance. Seconds passed in silence, and to them both, it felt like hours.

“Toya’s alive… Toya’s a villain," Todoroki said under his breath. He sucked in a breath harshly and released a breath of relief and joy and fear and hysteria. “Toya’s alive.”

“If it helps.” Todoroki's attention snapped back to Kyoka like a rubber band. Kyoka could see the glisten of unshed tears in his eyes. “I haven't told Mr Aizawa yet. I felt like you should be the first to know, and I didn't want anyone telling me that I couldn't tell you.”

“Thank you,” he said, voice wavering and breaking. “I- Thank you.”

Kyoka shifted uncomfortably and gave him a nod. She should leave, Todoroki needed time to process. But he could benefit from someone to support him because he’s already an emotionally constipated wreck, and this must be incomprehensible. Which was part of the problem because she couldn’t understand it and she wasn’t his friend. Yet… Kyoka rubbed the back of her neck and jutted a thumb towards the door.

“I’m just going to. Go.”

Kyoka did manage to find and convince Uraraka to help set her speakers up in her music studio and move the unnecessary furniture, like the desk and the dresser, that the teachers hadn’t moved out for her. The walls of the room were padded in black soundproofing foam, but Kyoka would need to get a carpet for the floor and maybe a thicker set of curtains. Kyoka put her keyboard in front of the window between the two speakers in the corners of the room. Then she put the drum kit up against the adjacent back wall facing her disk rack and the steel wire shelf that housed her disk and VHS players. Then she scattered her guitars and their stands around the rest of the room. Kyoka could hear the other girls approaching her room but waited for them to knock on the wrong door before she went to meet them.

“Yo, what’s up?” Kyoka asked, slipping out of the studio and shutting the door behind her. Ashido was startled but quickly rallied herself.

“Everyone’s so down about this morning and the incident, so we thought, how about a friendly competition to lighten the mood!” She gesticulated wildly, and her tone was upbeat and bubbly.

“Okay, so why do you need my permission?” Kyoka crossed her arms and leaned back against the door.

“Well, we thought it would be fun to tour everyone’s rooms once they’re done,” Uraraka offered.

“Ah, okay, I see.” On the one hand, Kyoka thought that was a terrible idea because it was a massive invasion of privacy. On the other hand, this helped her find the traitor by entering areas that would isolate themes for her. So, instead of rejecting the idea, she compromised. “I guess that's fine, as long as you promise not to touch anything without permission.”

“Awesome! Let’s go down and tell the guys!”

“Sounds fucking lame, I'm going to bed,” Katsuki grumbled. He stuffed his hand into his pockets and started stomping towards the lifts.

“What are you, an old man!” Sero called at him. It was only eight, and that was odd for a teenager, but some people were responsible enough to have a healthy sleep schedule.

“Don’t be such a downer. Class bonding is fun,'' Ashido whined, waving a fist at Katsuki in outrage and disappointment. Kyoka sidestepped out of Katsuki's way as he stalked past. She glanced at the pouting Ashido, disappointed Kirishima, and reluctantly intervened.

“Hey Kats,” she said as she waited for the lift to come down. She wasn’t looking at him, and from the way Ashido’s face lit up, Kyoka had a feeling Ashido looped her in for exactly this purpose, “think about it. Might be the only chance for any of us to check it out before it becomes too much of a biohazard.”

“If you fuckers give me advanced warning, then you can swing ‘round,” Katsuki argued.

“Why would it be a biohazard?” Kaminari asked blankly.

“How much do you know about nitroglycerine?'' Katsuki deadpanned, looking directly at Yaomomo. Which was fair; she was probably the only voice of reason everyone would listen to without complaint.

“Perhaps we should leave Bakugo to his own devices,” Yaomomo suggested kindly as her face paled significantly. Katsuki smirked triumphantly and stepped into the open elevator, giving Kyoka a playful salute as he left.

They started with Midoriya’s room. Kyoka lingered by the door as the others examined all of the All Might merchandise and Midoriya grew more flustered; this was one person she didn’t even need to bother to check.

They approached Tokoyami’s room next, and the black bird-hybrid blocked their way with his body. This overreliance on his quirk and lack of physical strength would be his undoing as Hagakure and Ashido easily pushed him out of the way, Dark Shadow slipping out to laugh at his wielder as he lay on the floor dejected. Personally, the purple lightning and glaring skulls were a bit much but she could dig the aesthetic.

Aoyama’s room was next, and to say he and Tokoyami were like night and day would be an understatement. The decor was a mix of stereotypical French, out-of-date and narcissism, but what Kyoka couldn’t ignore was that she had found her traitor. Well, that was easy. Her hand instinctively reached for her sternum where Mr Aizawa’s emergency button lay, but the Soundtrack distracted her by prodding her with her classmates’ themes intertwined into a larger piece, a prompt to look around her. They were enjoying themselves, and the mood among the class was just beginning to rise, even in the face of Mineta’s disgusting behaviour as they collectively decided to skip his room. If she called Mr Aizawa now, so abruptly, that would ruin all of this. Morale would plummet into the negatives. Besides, Kyoka eyed Aoyama from her peripheral vision; she knew there was more to this, and she wanted answers. As soon as the teachers got him, it was almost a guarantee she’d be kept out of the loop. She’d tell the teachers soon, but the Soundtrack was right that this was probably the wrong time.

They moved on to the next floor. Ojiro was up first, and his room was impersonal. It retained everything the school had provided but lacked anything of him. The girls criticised it for being basic, an insult that Ojiro seemed to take personally as a reflection of his personality because his tail droops. Kyoka noticed how Uraraka remained silent. Someone’s financial background could play a big role in explaining his lack of things, which she, of all people, would be sensitive to. Ojiro could have also simply chosen not to keep his personal things with him at school.

Iida had turned the wall behind his bed into a wall of books. Some were stacked dangerously high, one on top of the other, because he had run out of shelf space. The wall opposite housed all of his spare glasses. Kyoka couldn’t help but think that if he expected them to break during training then he shouldn’t be wearing them in the first place. The last thing anyone wanted was a face full of broken glass.

Kaminari’s room was a mismatch of decorations, styles and activities. Kaminari looked at her specifically and expectantly, and Kyoka struggled to find a way to describe his room.

“This is the store in the mall I'd avoid.” Ends up coming out of her mouth, unbidden and lacking context. Kyoka regretted it when she saw the pain on Kaminari's face.

“What? It’s perfect!”

“It lacks cohesion,” Kyoka said, jumping at the chance to explain her thought process. “Which is perfect for a teenager that’s still figuring out exactly who they are but not for branding.”

Kyoka stepped inside, grabbed one of the nearby hats and pulled it down over Kaminari's eyes. “I mean seriously, Sparky. What’s with all of the hats?”

Kyoka stepped back and placed a hand on her cocked hip, giving Kaminari a smile that he soon returned after pulling the brim up from over his eyes. He kept the hat on as the class moved on to the next room. When Kyoka returned to Koji's side, he grinned at her slyly.

“Was that a compliment?”

“Shut up,” she returned out of the corner of her mouth, tapping his upper arm with the base of her fist. “Your room’s up next.”

The girls were more enamoured with Koji's emotional support rabbit than they were in his room. Which is fine because she isn’t working right now, but might end up being a problem in the future.

“I feel so judged right now,” Kaminari whined.

“Hey, what a coincidence. I don’t feel great at all,'' Ojiro replied, voice dead and unimpressed. Hagakure bounded up to him and wrapped one of his arms into a hug.

“Relax, you can get your own back when we go over to the girls' side,” she said, and you could hear her smile. Kyoka’s head snapped over to her.

“That is not what we agreed on!” Kyoka objected. She didn’t mind her classmates looking around her room, her only objection was letting Mineta anywhere near her stuff.

“Since we are invading their private space, it is only fair that they get to enter ours,” Yaomomo argued.

“I’m in,” Ashido cheered.

“I guess,” Uraraka shrugged in agreement. Without Tsu present, it looks like Kyoka had been thoroughly outvoted. Behind her, she could hear Mineta’s theme building, and the things he was saying under his breath were making her ears burn. That she would dare say she could hear him salivating was disgusting, and Kyoka forced herself not to close up like a shrinking violet. She would not cower before the despicable.

“Fine, as long as Mineta stays away,” she stipulated.

“What? Why?” Mineta cried in despair.

“I don’t know if it’s the fact that you're salivating at seeing our rooms. The fact you have no respect for our boundaries. Or the fact that you have no respect for women at all. Oh, wait. That’s a lie, I do. It’s all three." Kyoka refused to look at Mineta while she spoke. Instead, she addressed the rest of the boys in his place. “To put it plainly, you’re an incel who feels entitled to us and who objectifies us, and I refuse to enable that behaviour because it is misogynistic, sexist, and the mark of a rapist just waiting to happen.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” Kaminari asked hesitantly. Kyoka closed her eyes and let out a breath, pushing away the memories of hollow eyes.

“The way Mineta looks at me makes me uncomfortable. The way he speaks about me makes me uncomfortable. The way he’ll go to great lengths to see me naked against my will disgusts me. His presence makes me scared to be alone in a building designed specifically to protect us and I will be locking my doors and windows just knowing that he is living in the same building.” Finally, she glared at Mineta, who cowered under her gaze. “But that shouldn’t matter because ‘no’ should have been enough. Why wasn’t it?”

“Yeesh, way to be a Debbie downer,” Ashido whined, effectively dismissing Kyoka's concerns and deflecting the conversation. “Let’s go see the next rooms!”

Kirishima’s room was next on the next floor and it was clear he was going for a man cave by his own admission.

“If I found out my boyfriend had a room like this, I'd dump him,” Hagakure said snidely to Ashido, who nodded in agreement. Her tone was demeaning and disgusted.

“Good, you wouldn’t be good enough for him anyway,” Kyoka mumbled near Hagakure’s ear before slipping away again.

“It’s so bold, it makes me want to work out,” Uraraka declared.

Shoji’s room was very minimalist, lacking any personal accoutrements and only the barest furniture. Sero’s room came as a massive surprise. It was filled with earthy and warm colours like clay and terracotta. Fabrics littered the floor and walls, and a hammock was set up in front of the window.

“It’s so exotic!” Ashido called.

“I didn’t take you for someone who liked this kind of stuff. Southeast Asian, right?” Kyoka asked.

“That’s me, the wildcard. It’s a Laotian base with bits and pieces from other regions on top," Sero explained. The others had already moved ahead to the next room but Kyoka lagged behind, letting Sero continue to talk about and explain all the features of his room and the cultures they came from. Sero made it clever that he cared very deeply for their heritages. Apparently, his parents were globetrotting cultural and ethnographic journalists, his mother was the writer while his father was her photographer. Kyoka couldn’t understand it all, and she couldn’t say she was particularly interested, but listening was what she was good at, so that was what she would do. Todoroki’s room was up next, which Kyoka hung back for. She’d walked in on him refurbishing it; after all, she knew what the main point of the conversation would be.

“Tatami is a lot more comfortable than floorboards,” Todoroki explained.

“How did you remodel this entire room in one day!” Kaminari shouted, outraged.

“Hard work and rage,” Todoroki stated blandly.

“You’re a beast.”

“My room’s pretty boring,” Sato said as he opened his door to let his classmates inside.

“All of them are after Todoroki,'' Kirishima assured him. He sniffed the air. “But something smells good.”

“Oh.” Sato hurried to the mini oven he had plugged into the wall on a table near his door. “I finished unpacking pretty early, so I started to make a chiffon cake. It hasn’t been iced yet, but do you want some?”

“Yes!” Everyone called. Once they had each finished their slice of cake, the class moved on to the girls' half of the dorms. Kyoka’s room was up first.

“Your room is girlier than this,” Kaminari commented to Aoyama as they looked around her room.

“And is there something wrong with that?” Kyoka asked darkly. She reared one of her jacks up like a viper, and Kaminari quickly backpedalled.

“No, ma’am,” he yelped, terrified. Kyoka strolled out of her room, hoping to prompt the others into doing the same, only to find Mineta trying to open the door to her music room. Mineta turned to look at her, expression hopeful and with mock innocence. Kyoka snorted.

“No offence, but I don't trust most of you with simple instructions. I’m not trusting you with the delicate and expensive musical instruments and equipment I have in there. And I definitely wouldn’t let you in there, Mineta.”

“We promised we wouldn’t touch anything!” Ashido whined.

“You let me help you move the speakers when you were setting up,” Uraraka pointed out.

“Hey, yeah!” Like that meant anything. Sure, she trusted Uraraka with heavy and delicate equipment, but the others? No dice.

“Why is ‘no’ not enough for you?” Kyoka asked simply. The others struggled for a response.

“Um, what instruments do you play?” Yaomomo asked, trying to diffuse the situation by deflecting instead.

“Drums, keyboard and a variety of guitars: bass, acoustic, electric, the types in between the last two, resonator, hollow body and ukulele. I know a ukulele isn't a guitar, but that’s only because it has four strings instead of six, and a bass has four strings too, and that’s still a guitar, and the bass is my preferred instrument, so I'm counting the ukulele too. I‘ve tried banjo for a little bit but hated it and I'm a composer," Kyoka said, counting each one off on her fingers. She looked at the others whose faces were a mix of shocked and impressed. “So, Hagakure next?”

“Me next, me next!” Hagakure cheered, bouncing down the hall.

“Now this is girly. It’s so pink!” Kaminari said. Hagakure’s room featured soft pastels and even softer and frilly decorations. The Soundtrack brought Mineta’s theme to the front as a warning, and Kyoka, in Tsu's absence, grabbed him by the back of his collar to keep him where he was. Ashido’s room, meanwhile, was edgier. It had a darker hot pink, purple and black colour scheme to make a variety of animal print patterns. Uraraka’s room was next, and a lot like Kyoka expected, it was similar to Ojiro’s in design. But she had a few additional commodities like a fan and a few personal decorations like a star chart poster on the wall.

“It’s not very interesting, I know.” They quickly moved on.

“Where’s Tsu?” Midoriya asked, looking around. “Isn’t her room up next?”

“Oh, she wasn’t feeling well, so she went to bed early,” Uraraka explained. She was lying. As they passed Tsu's door, Kyoka paused to tug at Tsu's theme just to make sure she was okay, only to catch her peeking through her slightly ajar door at their retreating backs. Tsu froze like a deer in headlights, and Kyoka placed a finger on her lips and gave her a wink before walking away. The final room they had to view was Yaomomo's. She paused at her door, blocking entry to it as she turned and gave them a nervous foreword.

“Before we go in. I may have miscalculated a few things, so please keep that in mind.” Then she opened the door. There was barely any foot space in the room, most of it being taken up by a giant Victorian-style four-poster bed. You couldn’t even pull out the chair at the desk or reach the balcony. “I really thought my furniture from home would fit!”

The class made their way back to the common room, where they settled down to place their votes for the competition portion of this circus show. Kyoka quickly scrawled Sero’s name before handing her ballot and pen over to Koji to deal with so she could look at her phone. She had gotten a message from Katsuki just after he’d left but hadn’t had the chance to take a look at it between playing damage control and working for the traitor. She’d made sure to check that no one else was the spy either. After all, she hadn’t just stopped after identifying Aoyama.

Kit Kat:
Tell me when the extras are done dragging you around. I want to talk to the Kamino fuckers.

Snitch bitch
We’re just finishing up now if you want to make your way down to the commons. I can grab them for you, or do you not want me to hang around?

Katsuki didn’t reply immediately, so Kyoka turned back to what Ashido was saying as she announced the winner. The girls had collectively chosen to vote for Sato because they really liked his cake. In the following hubbub of conversation and celebration, Kyoka sought out Katsuki's quarry with the Soundtrack, using it to drown out the chatter and turn it into white noise. She then found that Uraraka was calling for them to gather together already, so she stepped into their range and switched focus to their conversation.

“Eavesdropping?” Kyoka asked, eyes following the direction her head was tilted towards to where Yaomomo, Iida, Midoriya, Todoroki and Kirishima were following Uraraka out of the door. Was her tell really that obvious, and did she really do it that often?

“Can’t exactly help it.” Kyoka heard the elevator ping just as her phone did. “Besides, Kat wants a word with them.”

“You could be less subtle.” The lift reached the ground floor, and Kyoka moved towards the dorm’s front door.

“You're right, Koji; let’s just make things obvious.” Koji didn’t follow her into the chilly night air, but she could hear Katsuki making his way towards her. Tsu stood beside Uraraka under the light of a lamppost with their backs to the dorms, and the Kamino ward rescue party stood in front of her nervously. Kyoka closed the front door, leaned against one of the Greek-style columns supporting the overhang and pulled out her phone to check Katsuki's reply.

Kit Kat:
Like I could stop you.

She pushed the Soundtrack to the back of her mind and focused on the ‘real’ sounds around her. She catalogued the buzz of the lamplight, the cicadas buzzing in the night, and the muffled voices from inside as she waited for a human voice to latch onto.

“Jiro,” Iida called. Oh, now that was a first. No one has been aware enough to pick up on her lingering yet. “You may return inside, please. This is a private conversation.”

“Privacy is a fallacy. I have a radius of thirteen metres and a sensitivity that allows me to hear quieter sounds than average, even without my jacks plugged in. I'd rather give you the courtesy of awareness than false security.”

“If we know you’re spying, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of spying?” Todoroki asked curtly.

“That’s why I'm not spying. Besides, Katsuki wanted to chat with you lot, so I'm just here as his messenger.”

Chapter Text

“It’s fine," Tsu said without looking at Kyoka. “She can stay.

“I always say what’s on my mind. But there are times when I just don’t know what to say. It was mean of me to call you villains at the hospital, and I'm sorry for that.”

Kyoka considered that. Calling them villains wouldn’t have been necessarily mean, not if Tsu had meant it in terms of the law; it was more a statement of fact. Unfair was probably the better label here. If you were to disregard the legal definition of villains, then the context of their actions would suddenly matter a lot more. Especially since the legal definition was arbitrary to the point that it was indistinguishable from just labelling them as criminals. But the term villain was more nefarious, played into this hero fantasy that society had crafted and implied an inherent ‘evil’ to what these people do, encouraging a complete lack of empathy for them from civilians.

Or at least that’s what the Soundtrack had told her with how it structured itself. People’s themes represented the whole of themselves, not just a single action that stained everything they were. So someone who had never committed a crime one day but was robbing banks the next day would never see a drastic shift in their theme at all. The same could be said of those who committed crimes of passion or killed in self-defence. But members of the League of Villains, who were victims of discrimination and were certifiable psychopaths or sociopaths, respectively, had themes that sounded corrupt because what they had been through had corrupted them. They had themes that were intimidating because they had accepted their role as ‘villains’ and wanted to be intimidating. What was more interesting was what would happen when a hero's theme interacted with the everyday criminal's theme. It was like the heroic style, the aspect of their identity that was heroic or represented their role as heroes, warped or corrupted or stained their opponents' music and turning them into villains.

The door clicked open and shut behind Kyoka, and Katsuki slid out. He came to stand next to her, careful to keep himself hidden behind her and then behind the pillar. He tapped her shoulder to get her to look at him.

“Interpret for me?” he asked, and Katsuki tapped the top of his ear before continuing. “Haven’t been able to replace my hearing aids and they’re being pretty quiet for once.”

Kyoka scowled, “You mean your mother has refused to get you a new pair because you were so ‘irresponsible’ with the ones you had?”

But she nodded her assent anyway.

Tsu’s theme, as if reflecting the difference between her blunt, almost childlike way of speaking with the more nuanced complications and depressed mood, had lost a lot of its childish elements. It was slower, more meticulous, especially with its use of dissonant notes, and played on a harpsichord that replicated the xylophone’s tinniness and the ukulele’s strings but more elegantly. Kyoka tuned back in, hands at the ready.

“And despite what I said, you still went to save them, and I didn’t know until this morning. I thought that I had stopped you, that I'd helped, but I hadn't, and it made me feel like I didn't deserve to be with you like nothing happened.” There were sniffles and croaking breaths as tears got caught in Tsu’s throat. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “But staying away only hurt me more!”

Uraraka leaned in to hold Tsu close in a side hug. “You’re not the only one Tsu. Everyone’s been a little on edge and wanted things to go back to normal. That’s why we did the room contest. It was all we could think of.”

One by one, they all rushed to comfort Tsu and gave her their tearful apologies. Kyoka held Katsuki's shoulder to hold him back for a minute until the Soundtrack had settled from the emotional high to a relatively neutral one before letting him interrupt. Katsuki walked out from behind the pillar and waited until it looked like he’d just marched out of the door to make his footsteps purposefully loud. He glared down at the rescue team as everyone turned in surprise to look at him.

“If you’re done being all sappy and shit, we need to talk.” He looked at Tsu and Uraraka and nodded his head back at the main building. They didn’t need to be here for this.

“Kacchan,” Midoriya murmured. Katsuki didn’t react.

Tsu recognised the silent order and took Uraraka's hand, extracting themselves from the group and heading back to the dorms. As they passed by her, Kyoka gave Tsu a polite nod and waited until the pair had closed the door before making her way down to join Katsuki and the others. Though she made a pointed choice to sit on the so far ignored bench nearby instead of standing like everyone else.

“Be my voice?” Katsuki asked with his hands while out loud he said. “You sure you don’t mind translating?”

“Always.”

“Wait, why would Jiro need to translate?” Kirishima wondered, looking between them a little alarmed. Midoriya’s eyes wavered and flickered as if he knew something he was trying to keep hidden. She absently signed Kirishima’s words for Katsuki, and he rolled his eyes but responded anyway.

“Because I can't say this shit out loud and come off as sincere.” Katsuki looked to Kyoka for a sign that they could begin.

“You didn’t save me. That’s not what happened at Kamino,'' Katsuki stated harshly, and Kyoka made sure to replicate the hard decisiveness in his movements with her voice. Todoroki, Iida, Kirishima and Yaomomo turned to look at her when she spoke, confused and caught off guard. Kyoka motioned for them to keep their eyes on Katsuki, who held their gaze. “You carried me away from danger, but you left Kyoka behind… You left a piece of my heart behind.”

Kyoka’s voice hesitated before continuing, briefly uncertain whether Katsuki was thinking or not as he formed his next words. She continued anyway, even as Katsuki spoke about her so warmly that it left her flushed.

“If anything happened to Kyoka while I wasn't there I'd never forgive myself, you should know what that feels like.” His eyes lingered on Kirishima and Midoriya knowingly for a fraction of a second as his eyes scanned their faces. Then, his gaze shifted to Kyoka. “And we both know she was at greater risk.”

“What’s your point?'' Todoroki asked plainly. His body language was hard to read, instinctually and yet carefully neutral, where his compatriots shuffled and held themselves in awkward discomfort like they were out of place. His theme was similarly neutral, not as a facade but as genuine unawareness and boredom. An implicit ‘what are you asking for that would require you to be so vulnerable’ rang through Kyoka’s head, something Todoroki absolutely hadn’t intended. Kyoka hurriedly signed Todoroki’s words after a brief lapse.

“I find myself confused as well. I'm sure Midoriya’s plan failing to address Kyoka was simply a lapse in judgment,” Iida assured. It was like he was unaware of how he was trying to shift responsibility onto Midoriya for something he was feeling guilty about.

“None of you apologised!” Katsuki snapped in his own voice. “None of you even cared until I pointed it out!”

“What did you want us to do? Let you go running right back into danger?” Kirishima argued, “I'm not apologising for not letting you do something stupid and go back!”

What, like you did?

“Not to me, Shitty Hair! To Kyoka!'' Katsuki countered, and then everyone froze. He cackled maniacally at their reaction, “Do you really think that everything I do has to be about me?”

“It was a valid concern,” Kyoka cut in, trying to cut through the tension and drew everyone’s attention to her. “You do call most people ‘extras’ because you don’t interact with them much.”

That disarmed Katsuki's anger a little as he took the time to huff and glare at her half-heartedly, going through the motions of their usual lunchtime stage plays. Buy hey, he should stop giving her the perfect setups.

“Kyoka isn’t bothered by it,” Yaomomo said, searching Kyoka’s face for some semblance of support or confirmation. Kyoka paused and tilted her head, guess it was her turn then.

“It was terrifying, finding ourselves in an utterly decimated place with All for One’s oppressive presence hovering over us. But then you were there. I could hear you, and it took everything in me not to look your way. All the bad things that happened to our class happened because we were together and then split up, so I feel safe when we’re all together. Suddenly, I wasn't afraid anymore.” Kyoka crossed one leg over the other and started tapping her knee with her hand. “What I'm trying to say is that you were there, and I was safe. Then you were gone, and I was left in the lurch.”

Her hand came to her sternum, resting lightly where the guitar pick hung but not hard enough to activate it. “I don’t regret telling Katsuki to go. But knowing that you left me? That you didn’t even think? That hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Kirishima said, biting the bullet as the first to swallow his pride. Kyoka could see Katsuki's face lighten as he watched the redhead. “I don’t regret what we did, and I don't regret not letting Katsuki go back. But I'm sorry that we left you behind, that we couldn’t think of another way. That was unmanly of us.”

“I am unworthy of the trust you have given me,'' Iida said, bowing stiffly at the waist. “Back at the USJ, you entrusted me to save us all. I’m sorry that I betrayed that trust.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I owe you double now," Todoroki said, eyes refusing to meet hers.

“I owed you one first,” Kyoka assured him. Now, he turned to look at her, but only to show the confusion on his face. His eyes flickered as if examining their every interaction for when he could have ever put her into his debt, but he seemed to come up empty. Yaoyorozu didn’t say anything, but the guilt and pained sorrow were clear in her stature and face. That left Midoriya, whose expression was blank and who hadn’t said anything yet. Katsuki groaned.

“Great, could you lot fuck off now? I need to talk with Deku. Alone,” an ominous, sharp-toothed grin was shot their way. Katsuki’s tone was dark and hard. The group hesitated for a moment before begrudgingly shoving off. Kyoka remained firmly and stubbornly rooted in place as she pulled the Soundtrack close around her to get a better sense of what was going on. As much as she understood Katsuki, whatever he had going on with Midoriya was incomprehensible to her. The number of themes in the common room had dwindled, but Kyoka could hear at least Kirishima had remained. Kyoka pulled on Midoriya’s theme; he was despondent, and his theme was filled with waring conflict.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” he started, voice almost whispering quietly, but Katsuki didn’t hear, and Kyoka didn’t have the time to sign to him before he exploded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Katsuki screamed.

Something in Midoriya seemed to snap there, and it edged with relief. This was the Katsuki he was expecting; this was the Katsuki he was used to, and this was what he knew how to deal with, which was as much a black mark on him as it was on Katsuki. Katsuki’s volume had caught Kirishima’s attention, his theme drifting closer to the window after hesitating a step towards the door. They stood just out of Midoriya’s sight, but Kyoka could spot a touch of red when she turned to look. Katsuki’s band drum kit had been traded for a traditional drum of some kind.

“I couldn’t just leave you there!” Midoriya cried. His dramatic theme overwhelmed Katsuki's percussion. But Katsuki's theme was building ominously, and they refused to be drowned out. “You needed help, and I wasn't just going to leave you behind.”

“Oh, but leaving Kyoka behind was perfectly acceptable?” Midoriya flinched, and Katsuki grinned triumphantly, advancing closer to him. “Or were you just too proud to let yourself fail?”

“Why won't you let me help you?” Midoirya pleaded, a tearful edge to his voice. Katsuki’s theme recoiled like a rubber band snapping, and Kyoka finally recognised the faint taiko drums that were rising in his score. Now? Of all times, it was now that Katsuki felt like he was going to war. The volume of their themes was equal now, but the reverberating pace and pulse-raising tempo of Katsuki's theme made it more distinct and easier to track in the din. It was clear that, despite Midoriya's emotional pleas, it was Katsuki that controlled the flow of the conversation.

“Because I don't want your help. I don't need your help!” Midoriya's face pinched, and Kyoka realised that they were talking past each other, not at each other. Midoriya thought Katsuki was denying help, an oddly hypocritical thing for the All Might fanboy who thought he could do it all to call him out, but Katsuki was denying Midoriya. Midoriya had to know that too on some level, why else would he have Kirishima call out to Bakugo at Kamino and not himself, it appeared he disregarded that awareness whenever it was convenient. Katsuki catalogued Midoriya’s expression. This was going nowhere, so he heaved a breath and switched tracks.

“What has Kyoka ever done to you?” he growled, eerily calm for the moment.

“What? Um, nothing,” Midoriya stumbled. His theme retreated, and Katsuki grinned viciously. The war drums were playing in earnest now.

“Exactly!” Katsuki crowed. Kyoka knew that there was a lot that Katsuki wanted to say but didn’t seem to be able to. Words that he didn’t have or couldn’t force out of his mouth in a way that would be comprehensible to anyone but him. The frustration bubbled its way to the surface as Katsuki’s palms sparked and popped. “I told you to kill yourself, and you still insist I'm someone worth saving! But Kyoka, who has done nothing to you, was someone you were willing to leave to die!”

Kyoka felt her grip on the Soundtrack slip away as ice rushed down her spine.

“I didn’t know she was there!”

“The fuck do you mean you didn’t know? She was kidnapped like me. At Kamino, she was fighting at my side!” Katsuki paused for the gasps of air that he had forgotten to take in his anger. She sparked his palm before running it down his face and through his hair. “You’re so weirdly fucking obsessed with me that you were going to let a ‘friend’ die. Get your head out of your ass and your fucking priorities straight.”

Katsuki looked past Midoriya, done with his rant and preparing to walk away, when he finally clocked Kyoka’s presence.

He froze, face going pale.

His theme built tension like rolling thunder, his entire existence waiting for her response. Kyoka was still reeling but forced herself to stand and walk towards Katsuki, bypassing Midoriya, who was staring into the middle distance. She could see him tense up slowly the closer she got; his clenched hands were a danger to him but an act that protected her. His theme was low and intermittent, like distant thunder. She placed a hand on his shoulder and made an effort to look him in the eye but couldn’t erase the fallen expression on her face born of this feeling of something broken in her heart.

“I need some time to think,” she said softly and Katsuki gave a resigned nod, slumped like he was a puppet with cut strings. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay?”

Before she can walk away, he carefully pulls at her wrist to catch her attention again.

“With the others?” His tone didn’t indicate fear. He wanted them to be there, he wanted them to know, and on some level that gave her hope to hold on to. She couldn’t help the small, soft smile filled with blooming pride that came to her.

“Yeah, with the others.” He let her go easily, waiting for Kyoka to walk away and giving her time to go upstairs before entering the building again, retreating before Midoriya could regain his wits. As Kyoka entered the building, she scanned the common area for the lingering Kirishima, only to find the place deserted, though the lights were still on. Kyoka twitched anxiously but let the thought pass quickly; she already had enough to think about.

Chapter Text

Kyoka could hear Cementoss, Midnight and Ectoplasm waiting outside of the door and focused more on them than whatever preamble Mr Aizawa was giving. At this point, she knew that he was just setting up for their dramatic entrance.

“Today we’ll be focusing on… ultimate moves,” Mr Aizawa declared, ignoring how Kyoka was pointedly watching the door instead of him. That seemed to be their cue as the other teachers burst in and marched in so that Midnight was leading their triangle formation but so that they were always on pace with each other.

“And when we say ultimate,” Ectoplasm continued as he walked, “we mean a move that ensures you win against your opponents.”

The Soundtrack slipped into something more heroic with a rising triumph, matching the rising excitement Kyoka could hear emanating around the room from the teachers and her classmates. Cementoss took over next, and Kyoka was now almost certain that they had rehearsed these beforehand. “An action that is so unique to your identity that no other person could hope to copy it.”

“Your moves must represent who you are,'' Midnight agreed. Finally, Mr Aizawa took the reins back and gave them their instructions.

“This may sound abstract, but we’ll explain more later. Right now, pick up your costumes because we’re headed to gym Gamma.”

Upon entering the building, their lecture continued. This time, Cementoss took point as he told them about how the building worked, similar to how 13 was in charge of the USJ building.

“This facility was designed by me so that I can control it using my quirk to prepare unique terrains and obstacles for each student.” he demonstrated this by turning the flat surface into towering pillars of different heights and widths all across the gym-like basalt pillars. Ectoplasm spat out a dozen clones that positioned themselves atop the pillars, waiting for the students to approach.

“For the next nine days, you’ll be working hard to develop powerful moves of your own. Prepare for intensive training.” Mr Aizawa gave them his freaky grin, which he quickly dropped and continued on a different track. “Also, don’t forget to think about how you can improve your costumes. Once you’ve figured out if anything needs to change, head to the development studios and get a second opinion from the experts. They’ll know what to do.”

Then he turned to look at Kyoka. “Jiro, Power Loader has requested you go down to the development studio ASAP.”

Kyoka nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get to work.”

Kyoka approached the development studio carefully, waiting to see if the door would come off because of an explosion, as she heard Hatsume working behind it frantically. The sounds of large and small machinery and the clash of metal against metal rang clear in Kyoka’s head, where for others, they would probably have been muffled. She paused so that she could put on her headphones, and when nothing happened, despite the continued sounds of construction, she knocked on the door. Power Loader flung it open.

He looked haggard. His theme betrayed the true extent of his exhaustion on top of the manic coffee-fueled quality of his eyes. His gaze skittered around the hallway before settling on Kyoka when he slumped in relief.

“Oh, good. You’re here.'' The teacher grabbed her and pulled her into the studio, guiding her towards Hatsume’s workspace by her shoulders. “Please make her stop.”

If Power Loader looked haggard with a manic hint, then Hatsume was… well, Kyoka didn’t think there was a much worse descriptor. Her hair was wild, matted and looked wire-like in texture. Her eyes were sunken and constricted but never focused or still. The cans scattered haphazardly around the workspace told Kyoka everything she needed to know about where Hatsume was getting her energy from. Kyoka knew that Hatsume considered failure as part of her learning process, but the cast aside, warped and broken scraps of metal filled the room more than smoking miswired projects. At this point, she was just making careless mistakes.

“How long?” Kyoka asked because it was the only question she couldn’t answer at a glance as she thought about what exactly Power Loader wanted her to do.

“Since the news came in that you were taken,” he replied. Kyoka looked at him oddly, and he let out a heavy sigh.

“She was already coming in for workshop time in the summer but the moment she heard she broke in and hasn’t left since.”

“Her parents?”

Power Loader rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “They didn’t have the heart to make her leave, and frankly, neither did I. Not when she broke down one time and said, ‘If I get it to work, then she has to come back to see how awesome my baby is, right?’”

Warmth bloomed in Kyoka’s chest as she looked back towards Hatsume. There in and amongst all the scraps, cans, and unorganised and unused parts and materials were a pair of white boots with blue soles, a little bubble of space protecting and separating them from the rest of the clutter. Okay, now she knows what to do. She poked at the Soundtrack, searching through it and pulled at Kendo’s theme. It was bright and inviting but steady and confident, and she hoped to emulate the aura the other girl had given off as she approached Hatsume’s worktable.

“Hey, Hatsume, Mr Aizawa, and Power Loader, say you have something for me?” Hatsume’s head snapped up and stared at Kyoka unseeingly for a moment. Hatsume blinked, then blinked again, a gleam of unshed tears flashing in her eyes. She tried to hide it, but one of her hands reached down to pinch herself, and then she brightened up and grabbed Kyoka.

“You’re here, you’re really here.'' Before Kyoka could get a comforting word in, Hatsume was dragging her away, immediately back to business. “Come! I finally got those boots working just the way you wanted. And bonus! They don’t need your quirk to work! But using your quirk will give them a boost, and I made sure all the internal bitty bobs could withstand it.”

“That’s great, Hatsume,” Kyoka said, carefully untangling herself from the engineer and holding her still firmly. “And I can't wait to test them out tomorrow.”

“But-”

“But you need some rest. How can I trust my support partner to do her best work on all the new babies I was thinking of and a complete design retool when she hasn’t slept for a week,” Kyoka asserted gently. “Look around, Hatsume; you haven’t created anything productive in a while, even if nothing’s blown up in the same amount of time. And you’re scaring Power Loader.”

Hatsume’s theme slowed down, but it was still a disjointed staccato as she looked around at the mess she’d made. Her shoulders slumped, and more of her weight was braced against Kyoka.

“But-”

“I’m safe. I’m here, and I'll still be here tomorrow. It wasn’t your fault, and there was nothing you could do. Okay?”

“Okay,” Hatsume replied absently. Kyoka let her go, and Hatsume slowly shuffled towards the door on leaden legs. “I’m going to go take a nap. Okay, Mr Power Loader?”

“Yeah, you go do that, kid.”

Once the door to the lab had closed Kyoka tracked Hatsume’s theme all the way down the hallway to ensure she was going to go to get some sleep. Then she wandered around the workbench to take a closer look at the prototype bass jump augmented boots that would be incorporated into her already developed stereo boots.

“These would have made getting out of there so much easier,'' Kyoka said under her breath. The source of Hatsume’s dogmatic desire to finish them, especially after seeing the events at Kamino ward, was obvious.

“Speaking of Kamino, I caught some clips of your fight with Toga and Dabi on the news. The chopper was too far away to see anything but…”

“Do I have clearance to add knives to my arsenal?” Kyoka interrupted, giddy.

“Can’t exactly stop you when you’re proven competent, and you’ve kept the ones you stole off of Toga,” Power Loader admitted, bemused.

“One. I kept one.”

Power Loader chuckled, “I'll mock up a few designs for you to look at tomorrow when you come down for testing and tuning. Right now, though, what else were you thinking about?”

Kyoka spent the rest of her time until lunch brainstorming and designing her new costume and its additions. Afterwards, she headed straight to the glade, knowing one of the others would have picked up lunch already. She walked at a slower pace than she usually did, taking her time as a muddle of thoughts that she hadn’t dealt with yet rushed through her head after letting go of Kendo’s theme. She knew she was stalling, but she was still conflicted. On the one hand, what Katsuki did was inexcusable and extremely messed up. On the other hand, he seemed to know that even if his attitude towards Midoriya hadn’t drastically improved and contextually, it sounded like he hadn’t apologised or been punished for it, it wasn’t like he was going out of his way to target Midoriya. It was almost like he was avoiding him as much as possible, considering he only willingly interacted with the other boy on Kyoka’s behalf rather than on his own. In the end, Kyoka decided she would take her own advice, right now she was dealing with an issue that she didn’t fully understand so she wasn’t going to jump to an extreme solution to fix it, but get more information and a second opinion first. Yeah. Admittedly, her bias was showing, but she was willing to let Aoyama explain himself before turning him in, too.

Eventually, she arrived at the glade, where Koji and Katsuki were already seated and eating lunch. Shinso was there as well, Kyoka having asked him in their group chat to come even though the school hadn’t restarted for any of the other programmes yet, and he didn’t have a set lunch period. Kyoka’s box was waiting on the edge of the blanket where she usually sat. You'd have to be blind or an idiot to see how anxious and wounded Katsuki was even though he masked it masterfully, which neither Koji nor Shinso was. But the general rule with Katsuki was usually to either wait for him to make a move or wait for Kyoka to do so. They were leaving it alone for the moment. That is until Kyoka came into sight, and Katsuki’s body language worsened.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Shinso asked, lazily raising an eyebrow.

“You haven’t told them yet?” Kyoka asked Katsuki as she sat down and picked up her lunch as if nothing was wrong. Which only seemed to set Katsuki off more.

“I was waiting for you. I didn't want to have to repeat myself.” The motions were Katsuki, the turned head and denial of care were familiar. But it was odd hearing Katsuki be more demure. Sincere was something they were used to, but this Katsuki, who was afraid and trying to hide it by getting smaller instead of bigger, was unfamiliar. Weirdly, it was also unwelcome even though it told Kyoka in no uncertain terms just how much he valued their perception of him. He was picking at his lunch like it was his last meal, and he was stalling for time.

“What’s going on?” Shinso pressed. Katsuki set everything to the side and resigned. Then, he raised his hands and signed a sentence he aborted halfway through, apparently deciding that this was something he needed to say. So slowly, carefully, he told the story of his childhood, and when he was done, he was met with silence, each one waiting for the other to make the first move. Shinso’s body shook, his hands clenched above his lap.

“Why?” he asked tersely. Katsuki forced himself to look Shinso in the eye.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly, eyes softened in regret. Shinso scoffed and met Katsuki with his own harsh gaze.

“Not good enough! You know my story. You know that’s not good enough, so tell me why!”

“I don’t know!” Katsuki lost control of the temper he’d tried to suppress up until now. “What do you want me to say? That I'm an asshole and a terrible fucking person? That I got a kick out of it. Seeing him quiver before me because I projected all of my insecurities onto him, and beating him was the only way I could fool myself into overcoming them. Because it's fucking true, but I can’t because it doesn’t make me feel good!”

Katsuki was breathing heavily, and Shinso was gaping at him. That was something he couldn’t answer. But Shinso’s theme wasn’t at war with Katsuki’s like one would expect, instead it was at war with itself. Shinso’s creepy sports festival theme pushing against the new theremin one as if he was being pulled back to who he was back then. Kyoka raked through her memories for what the Soundtrack might be referencing. Granted, she had paid more attention to the music than the fights or what she could spy on the fighters saying, but she could still call them to mind somewhere.

“You’re mad at yourself,” she realised absently.

“What?” Shinso almost flinched back as his head snapped to Kyoka.

“The sports festival,” she pressed. Shinso’s eyes widened with his own realisation, and he pressed his face into his hands, his pale cheeks flushed. Kyoka let herself show a small grin despite everything. “You, a victim of quirk discrimination-.”

“Stop,” Shinso groaned. “I know, fuck.”

“You want to know why to justify and excuse yourself, not him,” Koji continued, catching on.

“We’re cowards,” Shinso stated blandly, peering at Katsuki through his hands. The other boy shrugged sullenly in commiseration. Then Shinso lifted his head and switched trains of thought.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” He asked, referring to Midoriya during the sports festival. “He didn’t even get mad at me for it. He got mad at me because I insulted the tail guy.”

Yeah, that sounded like Midoriya, all right. So insecure of himself that he took every insult as truth or fact, even if it was severely misinformed. Desensitized was probably the right word. But if you turned your attention to anyone, anyone, else including yourself, he was immediately on the defensive. Like a yapping guard dog of denials and awkward support. Kyoka didn’t know how to feel about that sometimes.

“He could have given me a beatdown on that stage, and I would have deserved it, even if I didn't know why. But instead…” Shinso trailed off.

“Because the fucker is too forgiving for his own good,” Katsuki declared, puffed up and haughty like his old self for a moment before curling in on himself again. He looked away from them as he muttered just loud enough for them to hear. “‘S why I haven't apologised.”

“Because he’ll forgive you?” Koji asked, slightly confused.

“Because he doesn’t think he deserves it,” Kyoka concludes from the way Katsuki’s body language shifts and his theme whines in tandem.

“Haven’t changed enough. Not good enough.'' Koji latched onto that and proceeded with his line of questioning to look at him head-on. Katsuki’s pride and deep-rooted respect for the other boy forces him to overcome his shame and face his fear.

“So you regret it?” Koji pressed.

“Yes,” Katsuki agreed empathetically. He brought a hand up to gesture around his ear. Quirkless was essentially disabled, and he was, currently anyway, partially deaf. He didn’t need to say that. They were smart enough to draw the line themselves. He didn’t need to outline how, in Midoriya, he saw a reflection of himself. How his treatment of Midoriya had some roots in what he thought of himself. No, in how his mother treated him. “The hag makes me hide because she sees it as a weakness. I’ve always been weak to her. ‘M not good enough, never am.”

“You are,” Kyoka said firmly. “And she doesn’t get to decide that.”

“I’m not, even if she doesn’t get to decide that” Katsuki scoffed derisively. Then his expression softened, “But I'm trying.

“When he told me he was quirkless, nothing changed for him. He clung to his dream as if it was just magically going to happen and didn’t do anything. It pissed me off. I know just as much as anyone that you can’t live in your dreams if you want them to come true.”

“But then it did.”

“Then it fucking did.”

“What’s the story with that?” Shinso asked, leaning forward. Because they all knew a quirk didn’t spontaneously develop after fifteen years. Not when All for One existed, though Kyoka was the only one who could rule that option out entirely thanks to the Soundtrack. Her money was on All Might somehow.

“Don’t know, but I have a hunch,” Katsuki smirked. “But I’m not telling. It’s the least I can do.”

“So when you were angry about him ‘lying’ about not having a quirk, you were angry about him ‘faking a disability’,” Koji said. Katsuki sucked in a breath through grit teeth and raised his hands to answer with them instead.

“It was like he was looking down on me, specifically me, and telling me ‘You’re disabled still, I'm not anymore, so you can’t be a hero’.”

“Which just made things worse,” Shinso realised. Katsuki snorted, his head jerking and symbols crashing as if his world was just upended and he had realised something he had never known before.

“I looked up to him,” Katsuki said slowly. There was a grimace on his face as if he didn’t want what he was saying to be true, even if he knew it was. “I wanted a quirkless hero because I guess some part of me still thinks I can't do it myself.”

“You needed a disabled hero. Just like I needed Eraserhead.”

Katsuki looked at Kyoka with careful consideration. A light frown weighed on his brow as a hand came to rest on the shell of his ear, and he visually picked apart her headphones. After a few moments, the weight of his gaze prickled at Kyoka's spine.

“What?” Kyoka asked.

“It’s nothing,” Katsuki smiled. “I just know what I'm going to do tomorrow.”

Then he wilted. “So, what happens now?”

Shinso, Koji, and Kyoka all traded glances with each other, trying to silently volunteer for each other to speak. Though none of them quite knew what to say. In the end, Koji lowered his hands, burying them in his lap, and spoke up with his higher, gentle tones.

“You do better,” he determined. “You keep doing better. I’ll help.”

Shinso threw his head back and chuckled, “I'd be a hypocrite if I walked away now. But if you can do better, I can, too. So let’s do better together, yeah?”
Kyoka looked down at her hands, closing and opening them slowly as she tracked the lines on her palms.

“I know I should be angry,” Kyoka breathed. Katsuki tensed and turned away, refusing to look at Kyoka. “That I should be outraged because you’d betrayed me. What you’ve done is unforgivable, and I have no right to decide what you do and do not deserve because I wasn't your victim. You lied to me.”

She reached over and wrapped a hand around Katsuki's wrist gently. He looked at her carefully, body and expression guarded but hopeful. A pang of heartache hit Kyoka again as the reminder that she didn’t have a theme hit her like a truck because she didn't have a song that could reach out and blend with him to soothe the attention or reassure him of her choice. Instead, she pulled his theme closer to her in a hug that wasn’t a hug. His steady beats are now a most familiar comfort.

“But I don't want to hate you for what you’ve done.” Kyoka looked away from them all now but didn’t remove her hand. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“I think it makes you selfish. But I also think we’re all being a little selfish here," Koji admitted, running his hands over each other nervously. Shinso shrugged non-committedly in agreement.

“You’re my friend. I’m not going to hold it against you," Katsuki said, then he lowered his voice to the point that only Kyoka could hear it. “Besides, I can't say much when I'm being selfish to keep you all here.”

Kyoka squeezed his wrist. “Then I'm not giving up on you. Not yet.”

She took a deep breath. “Speaking of, I have something I need to tell you.”

Chapter Text

Kyoka, Koji and Katsuki were walking back to gym Gamma together after lunch, Hitoshi having split off from them moments earlier to return their lunchboxes. Kyoka had rounded out the last ten minutes of lunch, telling her friends about the Soundtrack and the deal she had made with Mr Aizawa before asking them to stay quiet about it for her. She knew they still had questions, but class cut the conversation short. If nothing else, she was thankful that they believed her without greater interrogation, but the calm normal that their themes had fallen into somehow left her on edge.

“You’re sure you aren’t mad?” she asked them, almost self-conscious.

“Not really, it makes sense in hindsight,” Katsuki shrugged absently. Kyoka got the sense that his mind was distracted by something else. “Explains some of the League shit.”

“I’m just wondering, why us? Why now?” Koji pointed out. “Especially when you’ve been told to keep it quiet for security reasons now.”

“I never said anything before because no one’s believed me before,” Kyoka shrugged. Koji and Katsuki glanced at each other, concerned at how casual she was at being dismissed. As she paused before speaking again, Kyoka became nervous for an entirely different reason. Look, she knew what she was planning was stupid, and she would do it, but at least she was trying to be safe about it. “And now it’ll be nice to have help disguising it, especially with the League after my abilities. Oh, and I plan on talking to Aoyama later about being a traitor, so yeah.”

“Seriously?” Katsuki growled, concern etched on his brow.

“I know, I know. But if I don't, then none of us will get any answers. You know they’ll feed us a bullshit line and keep us out of the loop.”

“Fine, just be careful.” The Soundtrack trilled in motherly agreement that had Kyoka quirking a brow.

“You know, the Soundtrack shows different levels of sentience at times and different amounts of ‘give a shit’ when it comes to the things I do. Sometimes, it’ll play everything and force me to choose what to focus on and figure things out, while at other times, it’ll give me a migraine with its insistence.”

“So what you’re saying is that sometimes it’s a needy bitch?” Koji smirked smugly, causing Katsuki to start cackling maniacally.

“Hey, Jiro. Can I talk with you?” Kirishima asked. He approached her with nervous hands as the rest of their classmates began filtering out of the room. His focus was cast over her shoulders, likely tracking Katsuki who stood behind her. Kyoka watched Aoyama slip out of the classroom.

“Uh yeah, sure, I guess,” Kyoka shrugged. She turned back to glance at Katsuki and Koji, hovering nearby. “Could you grab Aoyama and tell him-?”

She trailed off, hoping that they would catch her drift. Koji gave her a grin and flashed a thumbs up while Katsuki barely acknowledged that she’d said anything save for the slight curl of his lips. Then they turned and left Kirishima and Kyoka alone in their classroom. She waited a few moments for the other to speak, his eyes darting around suspiciously like he was worried someone was listening in.

“There’s no one nearby eavesdropping,” Kyoka said in a bored tone after briefly consulting the Soundtrack. He startled, blushing sheepishly at being caught out.

“Right,” Kirishima coughed. His theme moved at a jackrabbit heart pace, repeating often and quickly from beginning to end. Kyoka cocked her head, trying to clock what he wanted to talk about, and the Soundtrack simply responded with drums. Kirishima’s gaze lingered now where Katsuki had last been. “You’re still friends?”

“Yeah.”

“After what he’s done? How?” Kirishima spat like the thought was just vile. “He told Midoriya to… and I thought he was manly! You don’t get worse than that!”

“I don’t know, attempted murder is pretty bad,” Kyoka said off-hand.

“What?”

Kyoka sighed, “What’s changed between now and when you first wanted to befriend him?”

“What kind of question is that? I found out he wasn’t the person I thought he was. I found out that he was a villain.”

“‘Young Bakugo don’t, that’ll kill him,’' Kyoka quoted blandly. “‘It won't kill him if he dodges’. That was what? Our second impression of the type of person he and you still wanted to be his friend. What changed?”

“That makes it worse, not better!” Kirishima objected. “And I thought he was exaggerating.”

“It does make it worse,” Kyoka agreed, ignoring the urge to raise an eyebrow incredulously and remind him that this was Katsuki they were talking about. Kirishima perked up, and Kyoka began to feel like he’d only come to her looking for confirmation that he’d made the right choice “for you. Because it just tells you that you aren’t the good guy you think you are. And exaggerating? Even the worst teacher in the world, All Might, called him out on it. This man didn’t care about hypothermia or frostbite, and it was Kats who went too far.”

“So nothing’s changed,” Kirishima declared. Oh, looks like he was also trying to get her to tell him what to do.

“Wrong. Something has changed. He’s changed. He’s gotten, getting, better,” Kyoka stressed. Then she sighed. She knew what it seemed like, that she was trying to justify his actions. But this still needed to be said even if she wouldn’t give Kirishima the full context. “Like I said before, we’re all products of our environment, and sometimes we don’t get as much of a say in who we become as we want to. Katsuki grew up in an environment where getting Midoriya killed or getting him to kill himself wasn’t a bad thing. What type of person do you think that would make?”

“He doesn’t even regret it!”

Kyoka narrowed her eyes at him. “Really? How do you know that?”

Kirishima’s mouth screwed shut. His face scrunched up like he was sucking a lemon.

“If I punished him for being honest with me, for changing, what type of message do you think that sends? If we’re the products of our environment, then I want him to have a good one for once," Kyoka explained gently.

“I was bullied in middle school,” Kirishima blurted out. Kyoka raised an eyebrow. It looked like he was trying to justify their difference in opinion.

“So was I, your point?” Kyoka shrugged one shoulder.

“Then how can you forgive what he’s done?”

“There’s nothing for me to forgive.”

“That’s not-. How can you be friends with him?” It felt like Kirishima was just repeating himself now.

“You were,” Kyoka repeated simply, crossing her arms. Kirishima’s theme was faltering, and he was visibly flagging, “and he changed to be better because of it. What changed?”

“You forgive him for lying to you?” That's a better question.

“No,” Kyoka replied honestly, a small smile tugging at her cheeks. “But I've kept things from him too, and, if nothing else, we can agree to move forward without any more lies this time around.”

Kirishima’s theme transitioned from faltering conflict into a soft, melancholic aria. Expressed in a minor key and mixing a string quartet with distant, soft timpanis. It was almost like he was singing a longing love song. After a moment of silence, Kyoka became anxious and shifted between her feet.

“So, if that’s everything?” Kyoka started awkwardly. “I need to go talk to Aoyama.”

“Oh, right, of course,” Kirishima stuttered, stepping aside and hurrying to grab his own thing. There was a flush on his cheeks that was just a little lighter than the colour of his hair. Kyoka shook her head and smiled.

Kyoka crested the last flight of stairs onto the second floor as she approached Aoyama's door. She paused at the top of the stairs, eyes narrowed as she recalled that Mineta was also on this floor. She rubbed her arms as a fearful trill went down her spine, and Kyoka subconsciously searched for a comforting theme nearby. Midoriya was still downstairs, and Aoyama, as an impersonal acquaintance and the traitor, didn’t offer any comfort. Anyone that was was just a bit outside of her range of comfort, so she ended up pulling Tokoyami’s theme around her. It was comforting for its deep massaging vibrations that rippled across Kyoka's scalp as it was written in the lowest bass clef octave a bass guitar could play in without altering its tuning. She took a deep breath and walked briskly to Aoyama's door. She gave it a sharp knock, impatiently tapping her foot on the ground, eyes darting to Mineta’s door.

“Monsieur-” Aoyama started as he opened the door, making a double-take when he saw Kyoka standing behind it. He quickly stepped aside to let her in, risking a glance towards Mineta’s room before he closed the door behind her. Once it clicked shut, Kyoka released her breath and the theme that she didn’t know she was holding. “Mademoiselle Jiro, for a moment there, I thought you were Monsieur Tokoyami.”

“Why would you think that?” Kyoka blinked, placing herself between Aoyama and the door. Aoyama blinked back a haze that had fallen over his eyes.

“I-I don’t know. But, uh, why did you want to speak with me?”

“I know you’ve been feeding information to All for One and the League of Villains,” Kyoka said, refusing to beat around the bush.

“I don’t understand,” Aoyama said, his voice faltering nervously, his smile becoming strained and his theme skipping a beat. “That’s not a very funny joke, madame.”

Kyoka narrowed her eyes at him then rolled them with a toss of her head for exaggerated effect. “I can hear when you lie.”

Aoyama froze, fear colouring his face. “Heartbeat?”

Kyoka hummed vaguely. Technically, listening to someone’s heartbeat was something she could do to figure out if he was lying or not, but only if she had one of her jacks plugged in, which she didn’t. Most of the time, she used the Soundtrack, and most of the time, that worked, except when it wasn’t feeling very helpful. But the League didn’t need to know any of that, and Kyoka couldn’t afford to let them find out if Aoyama had reported to them before she could report to Mr Aizawa.

“You must understand, Mademoiselle. I never intended to be their spy,” Aoyama said sadly. You see… my quirk isn’t built for my body.”

Kyoka’s eyes widened, “Because it wasn’t meant for you. That’s why you need to wear your belt all of the time.”

“Yes.” Kyoka blinked.

“Okay, wait. Your parents would rather be indebted to an evil underground mob boss cryptid than have you grow up quirkless?”

“I like to think they were trying to save me from the discrimination and inherent disadvantages that the quirkless are forced to endure,” Aoyama retorted hotly. “Something you wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right,'' Kyoka admitted. She had forced her body language and tone to be lazy and uncaring, but her insides were burning up, and her temper was churning. Maybe it was a bad idea to do all three of these conversations in one day, especially when she had started it with Hatsume’s uncharacteristic dishevelment. She had struggled to resolve her own turmoil about Katsuki despite knowing what her choice would always ultimately be. She was like most people in that regard, they didn’t like the idea of admitting that they were or could be ‘bad’ people; if she were a little closer to Midoriya or understood Katsuki a little less things might be different. But then having Kirishima corner her, trying to get her to tell him what to do and affirm that he was a good person or made a good choice, just wasn’t fair.

Now, she was confronting Aoyama. Aoyama, who had ‘cured’ his Quirklessness. Aoyama, who had just implied that being quirkless and the discrimination and societal disadvantages that came with it was worse than being in debt to All for One. Being the one responsible for giving the League of Villains the means to kill him, his teachers, his classmates, and multiple pro heroes was better than living his life fighting to overcome his guiltlessness and all that entailed. That he even had the luxury of that choice ground her gears and made Kyoka grit her teeth. It was in this moment, more than any in the last day, that she understood Katsuki the most and while she wasn’t as cruel as he had once been, she was a lot prettier, and she was too emotionally drained to be as kind or understanding or sympathetic as she could have been.

“But neither do you. You gave up that right a long time ago.”

She knew it wasn’t right to revel in the pained, guilty look that flashed across Aoyama's face when her words hit too close to home, and he flinched. She knew it wasn’t right to revel in how Aoyama's confident violins faded out, leaving only the repeated guitar motif, his steady mask that was more than his sparkling persona cracking away. She did anyway.

“What I can understand is that feeling of inferiority and inadequacy when you can’t do something that everyone else can do so easily. I understand that feeling of frustration and helplessness when people write you off or disregard you because of something you lack or have that you had no control over.” Kyoka gasped desperately for breath, her words forced out of her mouth more by anger than by oxygen as she refused to break for more than a second lest she falters, breaks down, shows weakness or cry. Kyoka stopped, took a shaky breath, and held it to force back the tears, harshly stabbing a finger towards her headphones as she resolutely looked past Aoyama lest she give into the urge to deck him. Her hand shook violently where it hovered in the air, and Aoyama glanced at it uncertainly, but Kyoka couldn’t see that.

“These aren’t just for show, Aoyama. I learnt to live with the things that everyone thought made me less than them. I did so much to work around it to try and live a life as close to normal as I could despite my pain and circumstances. And I am here, and here they are not.”

Kyoka couldn’t bring herself to ask the question because she didn’t want to know the answer. Whatever answer Aoyama could have given her wouldn’t have been good enough anyway. So she turned around to leave, only to be stopped when Aoyama grabbed her wrist.

“Jiro, you can’t tell anyone. If they find out my parents are-" Aoyama trailed off, his theme filled with fear and guilt.

“That’s not how these things work, Aoyama,” Kyoka replied, refusing to turn a round or else her efforts to suppress the tears would be in vain. “And if you’re that concerned, then the heroes can help. You shouldn’t have to carry that burden on your own.”

“Please Mademoiselle, with All Might gone there is no guarantee and I have no idea what they’re planning next!” Aoyama pleaded.

“And I'm sorry, and I can't help you, and it’s unfair for you to put this on me!” Kyoka hissed. Then she finally turned back around to face him, twisting her wrist out of his grip. She shook her head. “There’s just… too much going on right now. I'm sorry.”

“But-”

“Look! I can give you until after the exam to make your decision. But it’s either you tell Mr Aizawa or I will," Kyoka told him. “And if you choose to tell him, I'll back you up, but that’s all I can offer.”

Kyoka retreated to the lift en route back to her room and pressed her back against the wall as she tried to compose herself. On the way up the girls’ lift, she pressed her palms into her eyes. She was too tired for this.

Chapter Text

“Blue!” Hatsume shrieked across the TDL as class 1A spent their allotted time in the gym developing their ultimate moves. Iida tensed mid-stride, tripping over his own feet and crashing to the floor out of fear that she was referring to him.

It was first thing in the morning and the teachers had barely just set up when the engineer had barreled through the door. But hey, at least she was looking better than she had been yesterday. The bags under her eyes had receded, and her joyous energy replaced the nervous six-year-old hopped up on pixie sticks, though the thermos strapped to her waist was eyed like it was a bomb by those familiar with her as she passed. The cross hairs in her eyes expanded and contracted rapidly as they flickered around the area, the inventor employing her zoom quirk to find Kyoka faster. Behind her trundled a small red wagon that made her look childish even though it was loaded with dangerous pieces of technology, blueprints, a design pad and a suspicious black roll, among other supplies.

“Over here!” Kyoka called, waving a hand in the air. Hatsume zeroed in on her immediately and started skipping over. Katsuki glanced between the two from higher up in the gym before carefully creeping away when he knew for certain Kyoka was thoroughly distracted.

“Power Loader says that your amplifiers and vambraces should be ready the day after tomorrow,” Hatsume said in place of a greeting as she began setting up her equipment. Kyoka grabbed the boots and gave them a once over for any obvious faults before replacing her stereo boots with the prototypes. The Ectoplasm clone stood off to the side awkwardly, uncertain what he could do to help. “He’ll use the data we collect here to calibrate them, but their settings and systems will be compatible with these boots and the final ones, which were already designed with compatibility with your headphones and controller, which were based on your original blueprints so we’re pretty sure you can recalibrate them yourself if you need to.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Kyoka snorted idly.

“You’re welcome!” Hatsume chirped, engrossed in the program on her laptop as she mentally urged it to load faster, her fingers lightly drumming the keyboard impatiently. Kyoka tapped the toes of the boots to the ground and took an experimental stroll around the plateau. These boots were lighter than her stereo ones, a combination of less tech and Hatsume streamlining things to reduce the weight the sound blast had to carry. Kyoka supposed Hatsume would also have to do something similar when these were integrated with the stereo boots’ design. ‘When’ not ‘if’ because Hatsume had proven extremely capable so far, and Kyoka refused to doubt her now.

“What’s up first, Hatsume?” Kyoka called once they were both ready.

“Mei,” Hatsume corrected her, then grinned, “I want to test the stomp release first. Slam one boot, and it should release bass vibrations down and outwards. You should hear if it works, but I'll be able to tell because it’ll give me an echo map of the immediate area.

Kyoka complied, feeling a boom like an air cannon bursting out of a bass drum leaves her foot. Mei’s unintelligible happy noises told her that the inventor had received the data she was expecting.

“Now, try it with your quirk!” Kyoka extended a jack and plugged it into the boots and stomped down again. The consistent and steady waves of vibration created a more detailed map for Mei that was updated with new movements between every beat.

“You think we could link the mapping system into one of the vambraces?” Kyoka asked, pulling the jack back out and turning to Mei. While Kyoka didn’t need it to ‘see’ the area, having a map generated from the same information that she had would be useful when she had to direct someone else. It would be easier if they could see it than trying to describe the mapping verbally anyway.

“We can try. The only issue is processing power in that vambrace would be a lot weaker because of the limited space," Mei said, tapping a finger on her chin as she brainstormed. “We could link it to your controller? No, that wouldn’t work either. What about-?”

“Hey, don’t stress,” Kyoka interrupted calmly. “Let’s focus on finishing this first. What test do you want to run next?”

“Jump test,” Mei announced, “without your quirk, the boots work on a pressure sensor that’s looking for press-release-press to activate. With your quirk, you can do it any time by channelling through both of them simultaneously, except in mid-air.”

“So I could activate them accidentally?” Kyoka asked, concerned.

“For now,” Mei confirmed absently. “But when I add the booster function to a new set of stereo boots, it’ll be on a toggle switch. Just need to know how you move to determine where the most intuitive place to put the button is.”

Kyoka approached the wall at the edge of the pillar they were working on, where the cliff to another pillar was lower than the rest. Then, she jumped on the spot as if she were going to do a precision jump but without the forward momentum. When she landed, the bass kickback launched her three times her height so that her line of sight poked over the cliff. Kyoka briefly wondered if falling on her feet would activate the boots again before she started dropping back to the ground. The landing was hard but the boots didn’t activate again.

“Only one per press release?” Kyoka asked, turning to glance at Mei.

“Didn’t want you to launch endlessly in tests. The toggle will let you chain," Mei replied, “you got more height than I did. But that might be technique or weight.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good, you’re more effective. I’ll just need to recalculate cushioning.”

“I was going to say the landing is a bit hard. If my jacks amp the height, I think I might shatter my ankles when returning to base.”

“Right. Try with the momentum this time.”

“Try not to slam into the edge of the wall,” Ectoplasm called out in concern. Kyoka gave him a lacklustre thumbs up as she walked to the edge of the pillar, she clocked her possible jump arc with the augmented height so that she could catch the ledge with her hands.

“Could Cementoss give me another metre back?” she asked the teacher. He nodded and passed the request through his comm, another metre of cement missing up to their level behind her. Kyoka nodded her thanks then moved back to the new edge, she jogged the run-up, used a lunge to approximate the pre then mimed the upward launch of the arm jump, hands coming up above her head as she visualised the catch. Then she walked back to her starting point and ran the jump. She lost a little momentum, stumbling when she had to plant both feet on the ground before the precision jump that would launch her into the bass-assisted one, catching herself on the ledge as she planned. She placed a foot on the wall. It didn’t grip very well, so she could release one hand and swung sideways to look at Mei.

“Needing both feet on the ground-”

“Toggle!'' Mei reminded her. Satisfied, Kyoka prepared to drop off the wall until another thought came to her. She turned, searching for the closest pillar of a similar height to the one she was hanging from behind her, but they were all too far away, even with the boost. Still, she called the idea down to Mei.

“Do you think I could do a boost-assisted 180-arm jump from wall to wall?”

“Not with these. The pressure sensors need the full foot flat, but, again, toggle," Mei shrugged. It looked like she was making a note on her design pad. Kyoka pushed away from the wall and dropped to the ground, this time having enough space to roll when she hit the ground and dispersed the force across her back.

“Are we trying with my quirk now?”

“Yep, you’re clear for takeoff whenever.”

Kyoka nodded and repeated what she did for the first jump with her jacks plugged in. This time, she managed to jump above the cliff, landing on the higher column with a roll and going a total of five times her height. Kyoka dropped down again and repeated the second jump test, her quirk’s added boost allowing her to create an arc that ended in her stepping onto the top cliff, her extra momentum forcing her to take a couple more strides forward before slowing to a stop.

“Is that everything you need?” Kyoka called down.

“Was that your minimum output or the minimum working one?” Mei called back.

“Minimum working!”

“Can you give me a measure of your max output? Not the maximum possible. That’s probably too dangerous without soundproofing, but the most that you’re comfortable with," Mei said. “Um, preferably with your stereo boots. I don’t want to have to explain how you shattered your ankles Blue.”

Kyoka chuckled and jumped back down, switching her boots over. She turned to the Ectoplasm clone.

“Could you clear a line for me?” she asked, pointing in the direction she wanted to fire. “Assume I output like Present Mic and maybe ask the Princess to make earplugs or something.”

The clone nodded but didn’t move, presumably having a hive mind with the others that were carrying out her instructions. When he gave her the all-clear, Kyoka plugged her jacks in and released a vibration wave akin to the ones she used against Present Mic during her exam.

“Safety is my limiting factor,” Kyoka reported to the inventor without prompting, “The boots can handle more, but not by much.”

“You’re all clear!” Mei called to Ectoplasm as Kyoka unplugged her jacks and moved to join the inventor on the ground. As her classmates returned to their previous arenas, their attention was focused solely on what Kyoka was up to rather than their work before Ectoplasm pulled their attention away. Mei set aside her laptop momentarily and replaced the boots onto her wagon, pulling out the mysterious black roll. “Power Loader also wanted to know your preference for knives.”

Mei undid the tie and rolled the scroll out in front of her. Blunted, rough mockups of various knives stared back at Kyoka with little tags underneath each one detailing notable features and the names of that kind of knife.

“I might need more than one,” Kyoka said absently, “having something light enough for my jacks but balances well in my hand is going to be tricky.”

“Why knives for your jacks, though?” Mei muttered in return as she tapped away in her laptop, reviewing their new data. “Isn’t it dangerous to have something so vulnerable and viral so far away from you?”

“These jacks can pierce through concrete really easily, stabbing someone with a knife seemed less painful,” Kyoka shrugged, she was getting bored of repeating that observation but Mei’s eyes lit up with mischievous delight so Kyoka let it slide. For Mei, this probably was new information. Nearby Ectoplasm’s theme and heart rate spiked with fear. “I need a close-range option that isn’t deadly but also lets me create space.”

“Strength enhancers,” Mei nodded. Kyoka’s gaze and hand kept being drawn to two particular knives that felt out of place in the arrangement. One was the tanto, and the other was the stiletto.

“Aren’t these illegal?” Kyoka asked Mei as she turned the blades over in her hands.

The inventor merely shrugged in response, engrossed in her computer but anxious for Kyoka to be done at the same time. Kyoka rolled her eyes and kept browsing. The rest were a spectrum of military tactical knives that she didn’t recognise, as well as survival knives that she only recognised from Katsuki’s descriptions and pictures of his collection.

Tactical knives were designed for use in extreme situations. They were the rare folding knife that was designed for combat but whose primary use was actually utility. The fact that they folded, while great for storage and concealment, often made them unreliable in a fight. Survival knives, often employed by hikers and campers like Katsuki, were generally much sturdier and heavier. They were made to cut through foliage, tree branches and fauna when hunting. There were also a few outliers, other historical blades like the kunai, curved blades with hilts meant to fit snugly in a fist and longer, larger blades that felt more like short swords. Kyoka picked out the smaller double-edged boot knife and a simple straight bowie knife.

“Okay, I’m done,” Kyoka nodded, carefully handing her three chosen blades to Mei before helping her pack the roll away.

“I still don’t understand why you’re so insistent on blades,” Mei whined. “You can’t even put any babies in them.”

“But they can be babies, and you can make babies for their sheaths.” Mei immediately perked up at the suggestion, and Kyoka continued her musing without prompting. “Create a magnet-based lock for the sheaths that are fingerprint activated. If someone unregistered tries to pull the knives out, they will stay locked because the magnet is on. If someone with a registered fingerprint tries to pull it out, the magnet will turn off, and it’ll slip out easily. Someone trying to use or take the knife would also have to be aware that you have to place a finger on the sheath’s sensor to do so, and even if someone tears the sheath off of my belt because all the pouches are detachable, they cannot use the sharp pointy piece of metal against me.”

Mei immediately jumped to take notes, her body language growing more erratic as she kept speaking. A maniacal smile stretched across her face and her theme was transposed into a harmonic minor key, rising in prominence. “Ooh, we could do a similar locking mechanism for your pouches. Just in case. Wouldn’t want you carrying explosives for one mission and someone getting their hands on them. Oh, and add GPS tracking to the individual pouches and the belt in case of capture or separation-

“- ooh, what if you had an army of drones you could plant in places? Each one could be equipped with a speaker, microphone and camera. You could use them as a spy network!

“or maybe as an ambush sonic trap through the speakers!”

“Let’s maybe save that for another time,” Kyoka said, wincing at the panic coming from the Ectoplasm clone. “Making each individual drone would take a while with all the requests the others will want to give the lab and all.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Mei nodded sagely, appeased for now.

Chapter Text

Shota was always tired. That would never be a lie. Between actively teaching, taking up most of his daylight, the parts of teaching that are the most important and that they never advertise taking up his after hours, and his hero work taking up his nightlight, the man found it hard to take care of his basic necessities. And maybe if he were a little less tired, he would realise that teachers, unlike heroes, had a workers' union that they could use to negotiate better conditions. But despite this constant exhaustion, one could not call him unobservant. So when the wind seemed to change, and his students started acting differently, he noticed.

At first, he discounted it as his paranoia; his friends and colleagues have admonished him for it often enough, and while Jiro had been suspicious, his assumptions regarding her couldn't have been further from the truth. The idea that one of his students could be a traitor certainly set him on edge, especially with Jiro’s ‘Soundtrack’ on the case and an answer drawing nearer, but that didn’t seem to be it. No, this mood was far too localised and not around Jiro.

His friends suggested that it was just nerves. The kids were in a new environment, isolated from their biggest support system, and what had happened at Kamino was still fresh in their minds. Shota could see that, and he could still vividly recall the day his world turned upside down. The ‘Kamino theory’ only seemed to be reinforced by the notion that the people acting the most off were Jiro, Bakugo, Midoriya and Kirishima.

But suddenly, a day later, Jiro and Bakugo settled, something seemingly snapping back into place, and Shota realised he had willfully ignored the outliers. Midoriya was always anxious, even more so around Bakugo. It was almost like he was scared of him. That was one of the myriad reasons Shota had paired them up for their final. Jiro made it clear that that was a mistake. But now, when Midoriya shrunk under any suggestion of Bakugo’s gaze passing over him, there was this added feeling of shame and fear for him. Now, where he used to almost ignore and forget about Jiro completely, he kept glancing at her in concern and guilt, like he wanted to talk to her but couldn’t.

Then, there was Kirishima. His uncertainty was uncharacteristic, his mood was low, he was distant and quiet. A lot more distracted than he usually was, too, and the way he shied away from Bakugo with a pained face seemed to catch the other off guard. Like Bakugo had only just gotten used to him being there, and now he was pulling away hard. No, this wasn’t centred on Jiro but on Bakugo, and Aizawa was afraid of what would happen if it started to spread.

This still meant that Shota decided that he needed to talk to Jiro. And he found himself startled at that decision because a month ago… Well, a month ago, he decided to lock Bakugo and Midoriya in a room with a bomb to force them to solve their problems. All because he was too tired to try, all because he had assumed. Maybe he was taking her advice because she was a valuable ally that he didn't want to upset, or maybe it was because he knew now what she was going to say that day. He had come to care for this class too much to let any of them lose faith in him anymore that he’d tire himself even more to gain that faith back. Regardless, he’d have to make time, time to understand.

“Oh, fuck.” a pained grunt followed by the thud of a body hitting a mat pulled Shota out of his head and back down to earth. “Mr Aizawa!”

Shinso had managed to get himself caught and thoroughly tangled up in his capture scarf doing drills while Shota wasn’t paying attention. Even though all of the students had officially been moved into the dorms all of the other years and classes, save 1A and 1B were still officially on summer vacation. But with his class back on school grounds where there were other teachers to keep an eye on them, Shota had taken the opportunity to work more with Shinso.

Shota sighed and catalogued how Shinso had gotten himself tangled as he approached. He determined that it wasn’t salvageable, and if it was trying to untangle it, it would take more time than it was worth. Shota pulled out his knife to cut the scarf when he froze to look at it. Now, there was an idea.

“Um, Mr Aizawa?” Shinso asked nervously, his body held carefully still in his bands. Shota snapped back to attention and proceeded to cut the boy free before elegantly hiding the knife away again.

“Shinso, would it be alright to invite one of my students to join us? They want to work on non-quirk weapon combat, and you could use a sparring partner,” Shota said. It would also give him a chance to talk with Jiro about his class and ingratiate Shinso with one of them to make the hopeful future transfer easier.

“Sure,” Shinso replied, voice dead but cautious. Good, he knew he had no choice in the matter. Shota nodded.

“Run laps while I'm gone,” he ordered before stalking out of the gymnastics gym towards gym Gamma.

It didn't take him long to find Jiro in the gym. It was the first day this week that she wasn’t working with someone from the development studio, and instead of wearing her hero costume, she was dressed in her sports kit. Without her gear, she was working on incorporating her jacks into her hand-to-hand and martial styles more fluidly, breaking things up with brief parkour runs through randomly generated concrete courses that Cementoss would cook up every half an hour. Those new boots would make her hell in an urban jungle. An explosion went off nearby as Bakugo reduced another of Ectoplasm’s clones to, well, ectoplasm.

“Hey, Mr Aizawa, what’s up? Jiro called before he announced himself, as expected, turning back to look at him. Ectoplasm startled at Jiro’s call and Shota’s sudden appearance near him. Jiro was already moving towards him like she was expecting to leave. Was that her own conclusion, or did the Soundtrack tell her that? Would she display this sort of behaviour if she didn’t have the Soundtrack?

“All you’re working on right now is martial hand-to-hand combat, yes?” He asked rhetorically. She nodded, twisting a jack around in her fingers. “Then why not come with me? I have a kid who needs more combat experience against a live opponent, and I can show you a thing or two about knife combat.”

She cocked her head, and Shota wondered what she was hearing before she said, “Yeah, I’m down.”

Jiro followed Shota out of gym Gamma, signalling something to Bakugo as she left, and they made their way to the gymnastics gym. Shota kept glancing back at Jiro as they walked, watching in silent curiosity as she grew less tense the further away they got from people. Shota supposed that more people meant more music, which meant more noise. What confused him was that she seemed to relax further the closer they got to the gymnastics gym, taking on a lazy, sly demeanour that she often wore with her classmates when he was ‘asleep’. What would Shinso’s theme be like if it caused her to relax so much? His question was answered as soon as they entered the gym.

“What’s up, Queen Bitch!” Jiro cheered when she saw Shinso slipping around Shota and trotting up to Shinso as he jogged. Shota froze, terrified for a moment that he’d made a terrible mistake before he saw Shinso’s face split open into an uncharacteristic smile that Shota hadn’t seen since he told Shinso he’d mentor him.

“Yas,” Shinso responded, drawing the syllable out as long as he could in his deadest, driest voice. He let Kyoka throw an arm around his shoulder, punching him playfully in the arm before he bumped his hip against her side, and she easily disengaged. It was clear that they had rehearsed this routine before, but it left Shota reeling. He knew that neither of them were very expressive people, at least when it came to their positivity, and they were even less touchy-feely people, but here they were acting like siblings when he was almost positive that they had never interacted with each other before. “What are you doing here, Jack? I thought the first-year hero courses were working on ultimate moves in gym Gamma?”

“We are. Mr Aizawa just tapped me to spar with you while he shows me some knife tricks,” Jiro replied, a dangerous glint to her eyes as she smiled with her canines, a method of smiling that Shota knows she had picked up from Bakugo.

“Oh, joy.”

“I didn’t know you two were friends?” Shota interjected, retrieving a pair of fake rubber knives for Jiro. She chuckled, and Shinso’s smile became a lazy smirk.

“We spend every lunch period together,” Shinso drawled. Huh, maybe he wasn’t as observant as he thought.

“Let’s get to work.”

It happened during one of their water breaks. Kyoka was stretched out on the floor, squeezing the life out of her water bottle, while Hitoshi had taken to passing out on the far side of the gym, both trying to get the ache out of their legs. Mr Aizawa gauged the gap between them before approaching her. Now, the Soundtrack had told her he was preoccupied with something when he approached her back in the TDL. Still, it had also refused to give her any information about what or why (though that silence could also mean it had something to do with her), which had only enticed her to go along with whatever he had planned more. Though waiting for him to come around to her was… frustrating. If nothing else, Kyoka had found out she liked the sense of being in control or at least in the know. “Something is going on with your classmates, and I want to know what it is,” Mr Aizawa said bluntly. All Kyoka could do was raise an eyebrow at him as she absently proved the soundtrack. “I’m going to need a little more than that,” she replied when all the Soundtrack threw back at her was Aoyama's theme. And while, yes, that was obvious, Kyoka doubted that was what this was all about. Besides, she was actively avoiding Aoyama to give him space to make his decision, and other than the new anxiety and paranoia regarding both his demeanour and his theme. He hadn’t done anything untoward. She’d had Katsuki and Koji help her keep track, too. “Has something happened regarding Bakugo recently?'' Kyoka raised her eyebrow again, rolling her hand to gesture for him to elaborate. That was honestly less specific than his first question, with many more obvious answers that he was quite aware of. Mr Aizawa glanced over Kyoka's shoulder like he was keeping track of whether or not Hitoshi was in earshot before speaking again. “Rumours that have been circulating since you were both kidnapped by the League of Villains have escalated recently. We’ve done our best to mitigate the damage, but you and Bakugo have a history of being antagonistic at the best of times,'' Mr Aizawa admitted in a low voice. “But my main concern is with the behaviour that Kirishima has been displaying, he’s taken to avoiding Bakugo.” Kyoka’s nose wrinkled into a frown. He was worried about that. “Kirishima is doing what?” Hitoshi asked, surprised. Mr Aizawa snapped to glare at him. “This is none of your business, Shinso,” Mr Aizawa stated. Kyoka turned to her friend. “He heard. He was inside, but he heard. Kirishima came up to me the other day to talk about it,” she explained, and Hitoshi’s eyes widened. “What?” Mr Aizawa looked sharply between the two, but neither responded to him. “Shit,” Hitoshi hissed empathetically, ignoring his mentor completely. “You both know what’s going on,” Mr Aizawa said in an accusatory tone like it wasn’t obvious. “It’s not our story to tell,” Kyoka stated simply, eyeing Hitoshi pointedly when he shifted his weight from one foot to another. Mr Aizawa caught the motion. “If there’s something wrong,” Mr Aizawa bristled, and Kyoka tried to match his energy but quickly gave up, looking away from him as she spoke again. “Sir, the most I can promise is that I can ask Katsuki to speak with you,” Kyoka said, holding his gaze despite how hardened it was. “Shinso,” Mr. Aizawa tried, but one glance towards Kyoka gave Hitoshi the confidence to hold his tongue. “Sorry, sir,” Hitoshi shook his head. Mr Aizawa gave them both a long, hard stare. “I didn’t know you were friends,” he said slowly. This time, he was referring to Hitoshi’s friendship with Katsuki or their friendship as a group. “At this point, I'm guessing only Lunch Rush has even noticed,” Hitoshi shrugged. “It’s not like we go out of our way to hide it,” Kyoka added defensively. “And that’s not going to change,” Hitoshi finished, referring to more than just the state of their friendship. “Fine,'' Mr Aizawa acquiesced, “I’ll wait for Bakugo. Now, back to work.”

Late that night, half an hour before their curfew, there was a knock on Shota’s door.

Chapter Text

Katsuki wouldn’t admit that he was nervous, he was, as he went to see Mr Aizawa the following day. He refused to admit it because no matter what, the teachers decided he deserved it. He wasn’t expecting leniency, but he was hoping for it nonetheless. Except he wasn’t; his friends were because they had faith in him even when he didn’t. What made him even more nervous was that he wasn’t meeting Mr Aizawa in their classroom or the staff room but in his office. Katsuki didn’t know that he had an office. However, he knew the new location was supposed to make him less nervous because no one had the chance to eavesdrop. He entered the room without knocking and sat in front of the desk, trying to ignore how Mr Aizawa's sharp eyes intently tracked how he twitched and shifted.

“Sir,” Katsuki said by way of greeting. He was in deep, and he knew it. Furthermore, his teacher, the only one with the Snitch Bitch’s trust of all things, deserved more respect than he’d ever give his old hag; this was no time for insolence.

“Bakugo,” Mr Aizawa said slowly, “by now, I'm sure that you’re aware of my reputation here as a teacher, even if you didn’t when we first met.”

Katsuki stiffened his mouth going dry, though his face remained perfectly placid, oh he was done. The tone was empty, which was expected from Mr Aizawa, but the intention was clear. This was a warning but not one of caution but a threat of imminent death. He felt like prey under Mr Aizawa's careful eyes, and this predator was playing with him, telegraphing his presence and his next move because he knew that the catch, the kill, was inevitable. It took him a moment to remember the comment, which was also a thinly veiled prompt, and Katsuki cleared his itching throat. He took a moment to curl his lips inward to moisten them before speaking, forcing himself to sound relaxed and his gaze to remain unwavering in some emulation of bravado or courage or the pride he usually displayed.

“You expelled your entire homeroom class last year. Ears was right day one about you not joking around.”

Something complicated happened with Mr Aizawa's face like it was spasming involuntarily. His lips twitched minutely but violently as if they were trying to react, but he was forcing it back. Something flashed in his eyes before his eyelids drooped to cover it. Katsuki could understand the quiet huff he let out, which Katsuki did himself, his version of a chuckle with amusement leaching through the breath. Kyoka seemed good at getting that sort of reaction when no one else was, and if anything, Katsuki was glad that a reminder of her gave him a distraction.

“Then you should also know that I re-enrolled each and every student afterwards,'' Mr Aizawa said, which did come as a complete shock to the boy. He froze, eyes wide, but not a spark of hope slipped onto his face; this could still be a trap. Mr Aizawa’s eyes softened in that same way Kyoka’s did whenever they did something stupid and heartfelt at the same time a sign of affection which made Katsuki’s spine tingle painfully instead of warm now that it wasn’t on her face. “I expelled them because they refused to take things seriously. I brought them back because they didn’t have zero potential. So long as that potential isn’t zero then they can change, they can put in the effort to change, to be better and to become the best heroes they can be.

“What you have told me, about who you were and what you did, disappointed me. By all rights, you should have never made it through the approval process here at U.A., and that you did is not a black mark on you but on your school, and they will be facing those consequences.

“But regardless of that, Bakugo Katsuki, you have already proven that you have the capacity for change.”

Katsuki found himself opening his mouth to object but Mr Aizawa raised a hand to stop him. Katsuki shrunk back in his seat until his back was flush against the chair.

“I may not know much about it, but your relationship with Jiro and Shinso and their absolute faith and loyalty to you is more than enough evidence of that. So, I will not be expelling you from the hero course.”

This isn’t right. Katsuki did terrible fucking shit, and while he can't change the past, he can still make up for it in the present and going forwards. Sure, Mr Aizawa and his shithead friends think he can change or that he has changed, and the quiet part of Katsuki agrees with them on that. But how can they be so sure it’ll stick if he gets away with it again? Half the problem was that he got away with it, making him think it was his right, his duty. Getting away with it made it good. What kind of message did that send to all the other people like him or Deku in the world? No, this wasn’t right-

“You can’t just not punish me,” Katsuki ground out from between his teeth. “That isn’t fair.”

“The world isn’t-” The implication made Katsuki's stomach turn. The world isn’t fair because we made it that way, not because that was natural and just the way things were supposed to be. Complacency only breeds more cruelty.

“Isn’t it a hero’s job to make it fair!” Katsuki interrupted. “That’s why we win, why we have to win. We force the world to be fair even if it stands in our way. Even if it only does a little bit.”

His image of heroism was strength. The strength to stand against the tide of the cruel and the unjust. His image of heroism was victory. Conquering forces designed to keep people down at any cost. His image of heroism was avenging. Bloodied and broken, but all they had when pristine pillars and golden standards crumbled to the ground. Let the others save those they can; he’d rage and bleed with the force of all those that they couldn’t. That’s why Katsuki needed to be punished for good to win and avenge the pain he’d caused.

“Good answer,” Mr Aizawa said, and Katsuki looked at him again, startled, “and that’s why I won't expel you.”

“Wha- '' It still didn’t sit right with Katsuki. Probably because that quiet part of him was whispering insidiously that he didn’t want to be punished because it was ‘right’ or any other noble bullshit. No, Katsuki wanted to be punished because he thought he deserved the pain and suffering but still didn’t deserve to be forgiven. Not to mention that treating this entire situation as a ‘test’ of ‘character’ wasn’t treating it with the proper severity it deserved.

“As of this moment, I deem you unfit to take the provisional licence exam in six days. Not for your physical prowess but for your attitude and biases. You will be required to go to therapy to resolve these issues and prove you have the will and dedication to change.” Mr Aizawa opened a drawer and pulled out some papers, setting them on his desk and presenting them to Katsuki for him to read. “If your therapist and I agree there has been significant improvement by the time the make-up course begins, we will enrol you in the remedial classes to take that exam sometime during the term. Is that an acceptable punishment?”

“I.” Katsuki's gaze flickered across the page as he skimmed it, and then he blurted out, “I want to do community service.”

“That can be arranged,” Mr Aizawa allowed, taking out a pen and passing it to Katsuki so he could sign the papers that stated he acknowledged and agreed to the terms of his report. “Now, you have ten minutes before homeroom starts and eight minutes to arrive before I do.”

When Katsuki entered, the shitheads were on him immediately. Racoon Eyes and Pikachu bombarded him with inane questions about where he was and why he was later than usual, like it was any of their fucking business. Katsuki told them as much, too, snapping at them harshly with a low growl. Racoon Eyes has the gall to whine and push harder, though Pikachu dropped it with a panicked expression. His hands were raised in surrender, and his eyes darted over to Ears as if she could protect him. She couldn’t, but whatever she muttered to him made his face scrunch and tilt his head thoughtfully. The distraction was enough to keep him from doing something stupid, and that was enough to keep him safe for now. Pikachu may be an idiot with no filter or self-control, but he could at least read a room and re-evaluate when prompted. And Ears liked him, too.

Pinky was still teasing and niggling him as he walked past, even if she’s having to shout across the room. Then Four Eyes was standing up and being pretentious about the amount of noise that she was making while looking at Katsuki like it’s his fucking fault. Racoon Eyes acted like Katsuki would tell her anything if she got him to blow up. Normally, Kirishima would have stepped in by now. That admission had Katsuki’s gaze going to him against his will—Kirishima, who refused to look at him and whose face was twisted up and bowed uncharacteristically. Soy Sauce Face’s smile was grating in the brief glimpse he gets of it as he takes his seat before he’s saying something so low that Katsuki can’t hear but from the way Kyoka shifts beside him, it isn’t something he’d want to hear in the first place. It wasn’t long before Mr Aizawa arrived, exactly when he said it would, and homeroom began.

Chapter Text

Kyoka lifted her head from her hand, black eyes locking on the classroom door as Recovery Girl’s theme faintly joined the Soundtrack’s medley. She probed the Soundtrack for more information as the nurses’ theme slowly got louder. It gave her a brief drum riff in response, but nothing more specific than that. She shifted her head to her other hand, slipping her pen into her now empty one and reached over the gap between desks, using the pen to poke Katsuki in the shoulder. His face pinched in frustration as he lazily batted the pen away, trying to maintain focus on what Midnight was saying despite not being able to hear or being that good at lip reading; not that lipreading was all that accurate anyway. She poked Katsuki in the shoulder again. Katsuki snapped his head to glare at her, eyebrows raised questioningly. Kyoka nodded her head to the side and jutted a thumb at the door.

Katsuki’s gaze turned to the door, and Recovery Girl waddled in a few moments later. As soon as the door slipped open, all the students’ attention was drawn to her. Midnight’s lesson ground to a halt as Midnight also addressed the new arrival. Under her arm, Recovery Girl carried a small white and blue cardboard box decorated with an unfamiliar logo. She leisurely strolled across the room and down the aisle to Katsuki's desk, handing the box up to him.

“Here you are, deary, this just arrived with the mail for you. Power Loader is looking over the pair for your hero costume now,” Recovery Girl said. Katsuki gave her a vague grunt, probably uncertain about what exactly she had said, as he accepted the box. He placed it on his desk and began unpacking it as Recovery Girl walked away. He was heedless of the intense attention everyone in the class was giving him, though the pinch in his shoulders and on his brow was enough to tell Kyoka that his ignorance was forced. There wasn’t much she could do about that, especially not when Kyoka was curious, too.

Inside the box was a small black charging case decorated with orange accents, a homage to his hero costume, and inside the case were a pair of green-tinted hearing aids. Kyoka felt her eyes widen involuntarily, her hand falling from her chin to her desk. Katsuki’s eyes flickered to her as he shot her a knowing smirk because these weren’t anything like the old hearing aids Katsuki’s parents had forced on him, the ones that were nearly invisible to anyone who didn’t know or care to look. These were bigger, more obvious and more powerful behind-the-ear hearing aids, and this was Katsuki making a statement.

There was a wave of low murmurs and mumbles across the room as Katsuki carefully put the hearing aids in. Themes across the room were aghast; some were cloying with pity, and Kyoka couldn’t help but scoff no matter the small number of heated stares sent her way. It was like they thought he was lesser now for the aid, especially since they never reacted to hers, or maybe they did, but the Soundtrack kept it from her, not stronger for the fortitude to keep going or the confidence to be vulnerable for the sake of others by making a weakness clear. It wouldn’t matter to Katsuki either way. The people who needed to know, like Kyoka and Koji and Hitoshi and kids like all of them, would know why and what it meant, even if others didn’t get it.

A prompt from the Soundtrack had Kyoka glancing behind Katsuki at Midoriya. There she was, met with a face that brought her back to four nights ago when everything started to go to shit. His face was grief-stricken, which had her mad, but the devastation and guilt on his face as tears welled in his eyes just felt unearned. She recalled how he wasn’t surprised like the others were when Kyoka had had to interpret, hindsight making her think that that flicker of knowing was a pained one. With just how deep Kyoka now knew Midoriya’s obsession with Katsuki went, she wouldn’t be surprised if he had figured out Katsuki’s hearing would deteriorate from his quirk eventually, even if he didn’t know it was already bad enough to need aids. Kyoka hated that part of her was begrudgingly appreciative of Bakugo Mitsuki’s secrecy and ableism on this matter alone. She had inadvertently managed to hide something about Katsuki from Midoriya and had given Katsuki a chance to reveal it his own way, even if he had chosen to do so wordlessly.

“Are you ready to continue with class?” Midnight asked carefully. Her theme’s hesitancy betrayed that she was still nervous and uncertain when interacting with Katsuki. He shrugged his shoulders and waved for her to keep going as he turned his attention back to his work. Midnight obliged, and Kyoka noted the pleased note in Katsuki’s theme before scrambling to answer their teacher when she called on her out of the blue.

As soon as the bell rang out for lunch, Katsuki snatched Kyoka’s wrist and began dragging her out of the room. She cast a panicked look back at Koji and caught his surprised and confused shrug in return before she was unceremoniously shoved out the door. Kyoka chose to willingly ignore the cooing and teasing ‘oohing’ she could faintly hear from behind her. The fact that no one from class was following them out immediately told Kyoka that the girls were holding everyone back to eavesdrop while ‘giving them some privacy’. So Kyoka refrained from saying anything until she’d let Katsuki drag her out of their hearing range.

“Woah, Kats, what’s the rush?” Kyoka asked, stumbling to match his pace. His theme pattered at an almost giddy gallop, hammering in her chest like the stomps and taps of a square dance.

“Just really want you to see what these can do,” Katsuki said simply, a glint in his eyes that Kyoka caught when he glanced back at her.

“They’re hearing aids,” Kyoka chuckled, steeped in part in her own incredulity and in part reflecting his giddiness.

“With Bluetooth compatibility,” he nodded proudly.

Kyoka stopped dramatically, revealing just how loosely Katsuki was holding her and how indulgent she was being by easily slipping out of his grasp. He stopped and turned to look at her, smile turning sharp with Kyoka’s growing fervour. She slipped her music player out of her pocket into her hand, flipping it into the air and catching it on the way down. Katuksi raised an eyebrow at the move, impressed and exasperated at the same time. Now it was Kyoka’s turn to drag him through the halls, head locked to the screen of her music player as she thumbed through menus and playlists.

“We are testing this out asap!”

Katsuki guffawed, “That’s what I was trying to do!”

Their game forgotten now that they were both on the same page, they walked at a more leisurely pace. Katsuki made sure Kyoka didn’t bump into anything as she picked through her music catalogue for something that she had yet to share with him, while the Soundtrack made it virtually impossible to run into people, walls, and objects were another thing. When finding songs to suit Katsuki’s taste, she was looking for something with a lot of drums and bass, which suited her just fine considering she was a punk, rock and metal fan primarily herself, but she’d also started experimenting with traditional drum circles, djembe and taiko once she had learnt that Katsuki’s theme could change kits, not just style or quality of the music played. And if she included a couple of preppy college and high school American marching band tracks in, that was for her own amusement and something only Katsuki would find out about.

“What made you change your mind?” Hitoshi asked, tapping the picnic blanket to catch everyone’s attention.

“About what?” Katsuki asked, raising one eyebrow as Kyoka thumbed the music off. Hitoshi waved a hand in a circle near his ear.

“Showing people you’re deaf.” Katsuki huffed and cocked his head like he thought the question was equally amusing and stupid.

“You guys did,” Katsuki admitted softly. He shrugged, turning away from them with a gentle smile. “Told me it would mean something to someone if I did. I always thought it would be Deku who would prove society wrong and validate me in some weird way. You told me that I could do it myself. So ‘ figured I'd be my own example.

“‘If there are no heroes, become one’ ‘n’ all,” he finished in a low rumble. Kyoka felt herself warm and knew her face had flushed with colour. In the quiet space they’d created, the Soundtrack welled up around her, and she realised it had been a while, with everything going on, that Kyoka had heard it so harmonious.

That sent a jolt through her because Katsuki’s theme wasn’t ever harmonious. He set the pace and expected everyone around him to catch up. Instead, now he was slowing down to accompany Koji’s gentle ambience and Hitoshi’s soulful theremin. But what took Kyoka by surprise the most was the marimba that accompanied the hand drums, a melodic percussion instrument, playing a warm song designed to be the tonal counterpart of Hitoshi’s. It opposed, bolstered and somehow complimented all the while.

“...You’ve changed,” Kyoka said slowly, letting the full Soundtrack wash over her once again. Katsuki looked at her oddly, and Hitoshi snorted off to the side.

“Yeah, I thought that was obvious,” Katsuki snickered, though the hunch of his shoulders belied an unconscious dread or anxiety.

“No, I meant your song,” Kyoka chuckled lightly, open and reassuring. “It has a melody now. Can’t believe I missed that.”

She thought about continuing, telling him about how his theme was slower now and what that meant. But from the look on his face, she could tell he knew. They all knew.

Chapter Text

The next day, the new and improved version of Kyoka’s costume had been cleared for use by the development studio’s safety team, having arrived at U.A. from the designers the previous day. Padded black cargo pants with a pair of white knee pads to go over the top. A long-sleeved, skintight red-violet undershirt made of a breathable, stretchy fabric, the pattern at the neck made it look like she was wearing a choker over the shirt. A white, bulletproof chest plate covered her sternum and extended down to the end of her ribs, covering her vital organs. It was light despite its large size, thanks to a mix of carbon nanotubes and special polyethylene. Fingerless gloves, vambraces that would help her control the output of her speakers beyond the human hearing range and the two new amplifier jacks that were mounted on her gloves. Her utility belt, lined with empty pouches, the circular buckles at its centre the mount for her new compact shaped and sized controller. Stereo boots, now with added bass boost capabilities, a new set of headphones and the same old eye grease made the final set of accessories. And finally, a new black jacket. Padded with speakers mounted to the upper arms and elbow pads built into the fabric, its collar was puffy and wrapped around her neck protectively. Once the full costume was on, Kyoka ran through her tech safety checks before heading out to join everyone else.

1B had the training gym for the morning so Mr Aizawa had them gathered in front of one of U.A’s many fake cities for a training exercise. He gave Kyoka a curt nod when she joined the group, letting her lack of efficiency slide this once because she’d needed to familiarise herself with her new setup.

“This morning, instead of working on your ultimate moves independently we’re going to be doing something different. This will give you a chance to apply the moves you’ve been working on in practice,” Mr Aizawa announced, “as well as team training since you’ve mostly been working in Paris. It will also force you to exercise skills you haven’t had the chance to work on so far.

“You’ll be divided into six groups of three and one pair, facing each other in an elimination tournament bracket. Best of three rounds moves forwards.

“The activity is hide and seek. The hiding team has five minutes to navigate to a predetermined exit point that the seekers will not be aware of. The seekers must capture the hiders before time is up, standard capture rules.”

“Sir, I fail to see how a modified children’s game can provide a proper training exercise,” Yaomomo commented.

“Consider it stealth training for both groups and capture training for the seekers. You’ve already run into villains who take advantage of laying in the shadows and surprise attacks to get the jump on heroes, and I myself use those tactics when patrolling to give me an advantage. This exercise will train your ability to stay hidden from villains, your ability to know when villains are sneaking up on you and your ability to find villains who are trying to hide from you.”

“Isn’t it a dishonourable tactic?” Iida asked, “One that, as heroes, we should be above employing?”

“Honour only means death against a dishonourable opponent,” Mr Aizawa stated bluntly, “and villains are certainly dishonourable. Failure to recognise this is what leads to the success of people like Stain.”

Iida flinched. Mr Aizawa’s words were harsher and more cutting to him than anyone else. It was a bit much, but considering the class rep had insulted Mr Aizawa’s entire modus operandi, it wasn’t expected. The teacher moved on briskly like he hadn’t taken a careful catalogue of Iida’s reaction.

“Here are your teams and the bracket order you’ll be going in.” Mr Aizawa tapped a button on the remote he’d slipped out of his sleeve revealing a holographic display with a list of teams named by alphabet and a tournament bracket with those letters in place.

Team A: Snitch, Anima, Bakugo
Team B: Chargebolt, Hydra, Red Riot
Team C: Cellophane, Lumiere, Tsukuyomi
Team D: Iron Tail, Froppy, Deku
Team E: Invisible Girl, Grape Juice, Shoto
Team F: Ingenium, Creati, Queen
Team G: Uravity, Sugarman

Team A, Kyoka’s team, would be bypassing the first round of skirmishes and heading straight for round two due to the uneven number of teams. The first skirmish would be Team D vs Team E, then it would be Team C versus Team F and finally Team B versus Team G.

“Wait, why do they get to skip a round?” Kaminari whined, gesturing with a wide arm at Kyoka, Katsuki and Koji, who’d already shuffled the few steps they needed to take to be right beside each other.

“Yeah, wouldn’t it be more reasonable for the team of two to skip a round?” Uraraka asked. She had avoided using the word ‘unfair’ there. Guess they were learning.

“The team skipping forwards was selected at random and I will not be changing it,” Mr Aizawa stated decisively leaving no room to argue. “Teams D and E prepare to enter. Team D is seeking first, Team E you’ll have a thirty-second head start before time begins and Team D enters. Take this minute to strategise while we head to the observation area.”

“How are we doing this?” Kyoka asked without preamble.

“Watch and evaluate this matchup, plan the next one,” Katsuki grunted. He glanced at Koji, who nodded his assent before continuing. “But we’ll follow your lead.”

Kyoka did a double take, “Really?”

“You’re the stealth and tracking expert,” Koji shrugged.

“Right, yeah. I can do that,'' Kyoka said, nodding her head and tapping the cover of her controller. There were two giant monitor screens in the waiting area. One with a map of the area being used, a bright pink line marking the entrance and designated exit. It was a straight shot, which was honestly kind of boring. Kyoka figured the hiders had access to a map unless Mr Aizawa had just given them a street to navigate to. Did these fake cities even have street names? Guess they’d see. On the map were little stylized hexagonal icons representing each of the students in the arena. Deku’s was plain green because the other green one had a frog on it, Iron Tail’s was white with a black stripe, Grape Juice’s was purple, Shoto’s was half blue and half red, and Invisible Girl’s was white with a single, glove icon. The other monitor was split into many boxes, each one showing the feed of a different CCTV camera in the city.

Upon entering the area, Team E split up. Shoto jettisoned forward, using his time to get as much distance to the exit as he could. Invisible Girl dumped her shoes and gloves at the door and dived into the alleys and out of sight, managing to quickly lose Grape Juice’s skeevy ass with her detours before he could even try to grab her. As soon as the seeker’s buzzer sounded, Deku, wreathed in green lightning, rocketed after Shoto to try and slow him down. Froppy scaled a building and took to the rooftops, hoping to spot someone from above. Iron Tail seemed to be the only one who noticed Invisible Girl’s clothes by the entrance, a resigned grimace on his face before he followed in Deku's wake, eyes darting down every alley.

“No comms for either team?” Kyoka said absently.

“Good eye, Snitch,” Mr Aizawa smirked, “One, they didn’t ask for them. Two, while your agency should always provide you with them they may not always work, especially with villains whose quirks jam signals or if you’re working for an agency that cuts costs and cuts corners by getting cheaper radio headsets. Three, villains also don’t always get the luxury of earpieces either, many organisations are forced to rely on their phones. Four, some villains are smart enough to target your headsets so you are unable to call for backup. Or they target your head because it’s the most important and vulnerable part of your body, inadvertently breaking your headset. Both are bad, and something you have to be prepared for, but fighting under the effects of a concussion isn’t something we can safely simulate in class. And five, sometimes stealth means radio silence.”

Mr Aizawa turned to look directly at Kyoka, his glance flickering over to Shoji as well. “Especially when it concerns heroes like you and Hydra.”

Kyoka palmed her controller, flipping to the bluetooth menus and compatibility that she wasn’t supposed to have, hoping that the support students had also given Katsuki bluetooth compatibility he wasn’t supposed to have. Thankfully, his combat hearing aids didn’t have a passlock yet, so Katsuki just needed to hit confirm to let her in. She could tell when he got the alert; his body stiffened, and eyes flickered in her direction before flickering to Mr Aizawa. After ensuring his attention was firmly on the monitors, Katsuki reached up to double-tap his hearing aid and establish the connection.

“You’re doing something we’re not supposed to be able to, aren’t you?” Koji signed discreetly, head tilted with an exasperated expression.

“He didn’t say we couldn’t,” Katsuki shrugged silently, hands fluid and lazy.

“And we’re not going to ask,” Kyoka smirked, movements sharp and snappy.

Froppy’s icon soared over Grape Juice’s, the cameras uncertain whether she had spotted him or not until a tongue whipped into frame from above. It wrapped around his small body three times, squeezing tightly as Froppy pulled Grape Juice up to her in a way that forced his cheeks to puff out. She tagged him with capture tape when he got close enough.

“Grape Juice has been captured, point to Team D,” Mr Aizawa announced. Todoroki’s icon had stalled just before the exit line, busily and loudly engaged with Deku as Iron Tail and Froppy scrambled to back him up, both independently recognising that looking for Invisible Girl was a lost cause. Invisible Girl’s icon, meanwhile, had crept past all of them and…

“Invisible Girl has cleared the area, point to Team E.”

As soon as he heard that announcement, Shoto immediately disengaged and threw himself over the line.

“Shoto has reached the exit, point to Team E. Team E wins. Stand by for the next locations.”

“Other than Hagakure they didn’t really do much stealth did they?” Katsuki commented.

“Having Todoroki act as a distraction was pretty smart, though, even if they didn’t plan it,” Koji pointed out. They could probably do something similar with Bakugo, though it wouldn’t be as effective now that it had already been used.

“Hey, bro, who do you think will win this round?” Kirishima asked uncertainty, clamping a stiff hand on Katsuki's shoulder and giving him a strained smile. Katsuki shrugged his hand off.

“Deku’s team,” he grunted. “The half'n'half bastard's don’t have enough mobility.”

“Right.”

Just like Katsuki predicted, Deku took a page from Shoto’s book and bolted for the exit; at least this time, it wasn’t in a straight line from the entrance. Froppy took the rooftops and Iron Tail ducked into the alleys. Team E entered the area and Shoto followed after Deku, Invisible Girl began searching the alleys and Grape Juice actually did something smart, creative and productive. He used his sticky balls to scale a building and reach the rooftops. Froppy should have been out in the open, but Grape Juice’s icon started following after Iron Tail and Invisible Girl instead of following his line of sight to her. Kyoka glanced at the camera corresponding to Froppy’s icon location, but she wasn’t visible there, even as the icon crawled further into the camera’s field of view.

“Beetle?” Kyoka prompted the animal expert for an explanation.

“Frogs have evolved to have a natural colouration that blends in with their environment, but some frogs can change their colour based on things like temperature, humidity and light.”

“What kind of frog is she then?” Sero asked curiously. Koji tilted his head thoughtfully.

“All of them,” he nodded.

“Well, that’s just unfair.”

“Can you-?” Katsuki prompted, jostling Kyoka.

“Does her heart still beat?” Kyoka snorted, only semi-rhetorically, as Katsuki seriously turned his gaze onto Koji.

“Yes,” Koji ultimately decided.

“Then yes.”

Deku made a sharp right turn that Shoto struggled to follow, giving Deku the space he needed to get to the exit. Meanwhile, Grape Juice had spotted Iron Tail and was raining his sticky balls down at him from on high, blocking Iron Tail’s path and slowing him down long enough for Invisible Girl to tag him with the capture tape. Froppy managed to stay away from Shoto’s cold and out of sight long enough to reach the exit.

“Tied match. It looks like we’re going into a tie-breaker round,” Mr Aizawa announced dryly. It was clear that he wasn’t getting what he wanted from the class out of this exercise.

Again Team D would be hunting, Team E would be hiding. Team E went in with the same strategy, except Grape Juice and Invisible Girl ran off in different directions. Looks like they were expecting a similar showing from round 1 to win. But Shoto had failed to take into account the different layout of the arena and different exits, slowing him down. Oh, and Team D wasn’t going to take that lying down, if there was anything Deku was known for it was his adaptability and planning.

“Who are we hoping to win this?” Koji asked.

“Depends. To show off? Team E. For an easier time we want Team D,'' Kyoka said aloud, Katsuki nodded in agreement.

From the looks of things, Deku’s new plan was to completely disregard Shoto and focus on finding and taking down Invisible Girl and Grape Juice. Deku bounced rapidly all across the map from alley to alley, criss-crossing between the walls, hoping RNG would result in him running right into her. Meanwhile, Froppy honed in on Grape Juice and captured him the exact same way she had before. Iron Tail was tailing Shoto. It turned out that the real plan was to use him to find the exit, not Invisible Girl and then body block it until time ran out, preventing her from exiting instead of even trying to capture her.

“Team D wins and is moving forward. Team C and F, head down to your first location.”

“We’re seeking first. What’s the plan?” Katsuki asked reluctantly, pulling his attention from the monitors. If things went to plan they’d have another chance to observe how these teams, whichever one won, worked anyway.

“Dude, do you think it’s a good idea to talk about your plans in the open like this?'' Sato asked. Koji flashed a series of hand signs at Sato and Uraraka, each one meaning something alone but nothing together.

“Yeah like that’s a threat,” he signed smoothly lingering on the sarcastic ‘yes’ and ‘threat’ before adding a dismissive hand wave.

A synth riff alongside a four-count diminishing track of hi-hats popped up nearby, surprising Kyoka and causing her head and attention to snap in the source's direction. It was coming from Kaminari’s theme. A tesla coil’s absent static faded back into focus as the synth and hats faded out until they reached an odd equilibrium. Other than the out of nowhere interruption the Soundtrack wouldn’t let her pinpoint what it was that caused the change. A nudge from Koji had her returning to their planning. She took her controller out, held it up to her lips and leaned against Koji’s shoulder, angling one of her headphones’ speakers towards him.

“I’m the field monitor,” she said in a low voice. “So I’ll keep an eye on the battlefield and keep you updated on the other team’s position. Koji, you’re the controller. You’ll be in charge of making the other team move where and when we want them to. You two stay out of sight, I'll start on by taking to one of the rooftops. I’ll use my quirk to pinpoint where the other team is and amplify Koji’s voice through my speakers so you can rally the troops. We’ll use the animals to surround the other team, cut off their escape routes and herd them back towards us.”

Koji tugged Kyoka’s sleeve to grab her eye, “frequency only animals can hear.”

She took off and passed him her audio mixer bracer that he put on with care. “You got it. I’ll ‘give chase’ across the rooftops to keep an eye on them and use my sound to keep them off balance.

“I’m going to be loud, which means Kat has to be quiet.”

“Why?” Katsuki murmured back, the mic in his hearing aids pumping the sound into her headphones.

“So they won’t see you coming. At the very least we want to trick them into thinking both of our combat roles are strikers, at best we trick them into thinking I’m you because of the volume, intensity and altered quality of the sounds I'll be making. We fool them into thinking at least one, or both of us, are hot on their tails while a swarm of animals are hot on their tails so they won’t clock that we’re leading them back to the entrance.”

“Where I'll have been waiting the entire time for an ambush,” Katsuki realised. His mouth pulled back into a vicious smirk that showed off his canines.

“Because I’m playing utility, and you’re playing blaster.”

“Sounds like a horror movie.”

“It could only be better if I had taken Mei up on creating those portable mini-speaker drones, and we had the time to plant them on some of the animals or in the arena before our match. That way, every time they try to go somewhere, we don’t want them to shriek, explosion, something else that’s loud that you want to get away from.”

“So we’ll split up two, one,” Katsuki declared, making a show of acting like he was making all of the decisions. “Birds would make the best seekers, especially if Snitch can lock down a small area for them to scout.”

It was almost as if the universe had timed that because no sooner than those words had left his mouth before Tsukuyomi was dropping out of the sky and into the view of the cameras coming down at Queen. He sent Dark Shadow ahead to dive-bomb her and engulf Queen, the sentient shadow immune to her acidic secretions. Moments later, Ingenium was tripped by a line of tape that he ran right into, unable to stop or turn quick enough to react to its appearance as Sero cut him off and was quickly wrapped up like a mummy.

“That was lucky,” Kirishima remarked. “If Sero had gone after Mina, she would have melted out of his tape.”

“No, I think they planned it that way,'' Midoriya mumbled absently, though no one other than Kyoka heard him clearly, and they were so used to his muttering that no one bothered to acknowledge him anymore unless they’d prompted him in the first place. “That’s why Aoyama gave Sero a boost at the start. And Tokoyami dropped back to go after Mina, using his spare momentum to throw Sero ahead of Iida because Tokoyami is faster than Sero and Iida is faster than Mina, but Sero can’t take Mina.”

Through (effectively) infinite gadgetry and careful manoeuvring Yaomomo escaped in time. Two to one in favour of Team C.

“Team C wins this then. They can ‘fly’ and, outside of Yaomomo, Team F can’t hit ranged targets,” Tsu predicted.

“Looks like fliers have the advantage,” Uraraka commented thoughtfully. Looks like she had a plan cooking for her round.

“More like they disregarded the point of the activity and proved that no one looks above a forty-five-degree angle,” Kyoka drawled. Her statement and Tsu’s prediction proved themselves true in the end when Tsukuyomi, Cellophane and Lumiere went above the city maze at an altitude that was summarily out of range as Tsukuyomi carried Lumiere and Cellophane slingshot himself above the rooftops, dangling from Tsukuyomi on occasion when there was nowhere for him to swing from. The net launcher that Yaomomo made barely had the range to touch them. Three-zero to Team C.

“So, what’s our plan for hiding?” Koji asked as the teams switched out. Kyoka went to reply, but the Soundtrack muted the other themes around her in anticipation of something that it felt needed an original score that she could hear even at this distance. She raised a hand, asking them to give her a minute, and put on her headphones, holding the earpieces, her fingers spread just slightly, their sign that she was focusing on the Soundtrack.

What was playing in the score was familiar despite its obvious age, though Kyoka supposed that could be an artificial feeling of age considering the style of the piece. The ragtime was upbeat and a clear sign of something comedic to come, more for the history of the genre than of the music; the track felt like it was straight out of the silent film era. It was a bouncy promise of antics that proved appropriate when Mr Aizawa was forced to pan the cameras up to be able to see Sugarman and Uravity in the arena at all once their 30 seconds were up. Sugarman and Uravity clung to one another as they floated idly in the air above the arena. As amusing as the plan was, it wasn't exactly worth the out-of-nowhere ragtime, so Kyoka concluded that some slapstick would have to be involved eventually, especially since Kirishima and Kaminari were involved.

“This plan feels ill-conceived,'' Tokoyami said with a frown.

“I disagree. Uraraka recognised the advantage of aerial manoeuvrability and the disadvantage her opponents were at for not having ranged attack capabilities to execute an effective strategy,” Iida argued politely. "Team B cannot reach them.”

“Yeah, it’s effective at keeping them out of combat, but that isn’t the goal here,” Tsu argued. “The goal is to get to the exit.”

“Uraraka’s quirk nullifies momentum as well as gravity, and with nothing around them to push off of each other, that would send them in opposite directions. All Team B has to do is wait them out," Midoriya continued.

“But we all know they won’t do that,” Kyoka muttered as she slipped her headphones off. Katsuki raised an eyebrow at her, and she waved him off, nothing to worry about. It was rather something to look forward to.

“What the fuck!” Sero cried, dragging everyone’s attention back to the screens suddenly. They were just in time to catch Red Riot soaring just under Uravity and Sugarman, crashing into the ground relatively unharmed thanks to his quirk. He got out of the crater he’d made, slightly woozy and unsteady, before sprinting back to Hydra and Chargebolt.

“What are they doing?” Ojiro exclaimed. Red Riot said something emphatically to Hydra, looking to Chargebolt for support. The other boy just shrugged helplessly.

“Not waiting them out,” Kyoka grinned. Okay, so maybe the Soundtrack’s music choice was pretty on point after all. The lack of sound from the cameras and monitor did make this whole thing feel like a silent film.

Hydra seemed hesitant, but Red Riot’s determination and stalwart energy eventually won the other over. And then he picked Red Riot up and launched him at the other team like a javelin or a big rock. He missed again, Red Riot passing by them a little too far to the left to reach, and again, Red Riot returned for another go. Kyoka bit her lip to suppress her laughter, the Soundtrack’s score was doing her no favours. This time, Hydra’s aim was spot on, and it appeared that Uravity could see that too as she frantically blathered at her partner. Sugarman fumbled for a pack of sugar and downed it as quickly as possible. Then, when Red Riot came into range, Sugarman slammed him into the ground with his enhanced strength. Across the class, people winced at the impact, Sugarman’s hands coming away a little bloodied because of Kirishima’s hardened hair spikes.

“Someone should really check if he has a concussion.”

In the end, Team B didn’t manage to bring Team G out of the sky, but Team G never made it to the exit, so Team B won two-zero.

“Well, that was something,” Katsuki huffed, dismissive and bored.

“Hiding plan, go,” Koji reminded them, redirecting Katsuki's attention.

Kyoka considered the ‘hiding’ strategies they’d seen so far if they could even be called that. No one seemed to follow the spirit of the exercise. Most were too caught up with wanting to win. Something that grew more obvious as time went on since the only people to employ actual stealth were Hagakure, Tsu and Ojiro, and the first two could literally disappear from the visible spectrum. But doing the unexpected had its merits, too, being where no one thinks to look in the first place. Though considering that ‘stealth’ to this class had so far meant being loud, conspicuous and capable of flight, the unexpected was looking to be the traditional sort of stealth. Besides, who would expect Kats to be quiet and avoid a fight? Then again, he was teamed with Kyoka and Koji, so they really should… but they also still weren’t aware that all three of them were friends rather than just her and Katsuki, and they weren’t even trying to hide that. So…

“Keep it simple, stick together, don’t rush, stay under cover and out of sight.”

“Doesn’t sound like much.” Koji was sceptical, and considering the scale of her ‘seekers’ ploy, that was fair.

“Not being flashy is the entire point.”

“Team B wins and is moving forward. Teams A and D prepare for the second round.”

“Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Snitch fiddled with her controller, trying to keep her mind preoccupied as her team and Deku’s made their way down to the arena. Anima was doing the same with the pitch modulator she’d given him, fine tuning the frequency they’d be using in an attempt to loop in as many mammals and avians as possible but leave the frog mutant none the wiser. Tokoyami was also a concern in that regard but considering they weren’t facing him at the moment it could be saved for later. It was an uncertain task without prior testing or information, especially when forced to gauge someone so carefully blank but they had to work with what they had. Even Bakugo was fiddling with the clasp of his gauntlet, though that was to mask his partner’s behaviours as nervousness rather than plotting.

Not that Team D was paying attention but deception had to be maintained. The other team was lagging behind them, using the distance to the arena as a chance to brainstorm a plan. Snitch had to give them credit, Deku at least was trying to work around her quirk by creating distance and keeping his voice low.

Unlike Iron Tail, who was too honourable to a fault to think she’d ‘cheat’ by eavesdropping on their plans prior to the match, Deku understood that she had no such scruples. Or he at least acknowledged that it may be involuntary.

Snitch wondered what he thought of Bakugo’s place in this though. Whether he thought Kats had her refrain because he wanted things to be ‘fair’ and have a real victory or if this didn’t count. Or if he thought that Kats valued espionage and subterfuge so long as it resulted in a greater victory. Or maybe he thought her influence might have changed how he saw things. She wondered if this was him reacting accordingly. Though how one reacted to unconfirmable theories that you couldn’t even predict the statistics on Snitch didn’t know. Nor was the Soundtrack providing any hints on the topic. Not that it needed to. Considering Deku’s hyperfixation on Bakugo she doubted he had even considered that she was running this op or that Kats would willingly fall in line without a fight.

Ultimately the verbal diarrhoea of varied plans with no clear preference over which one they’d actually run or which one would be the most optimal, combined with the hissy tone characteristic of whispers that was meant to confuse Snitch only served to confuse his team more, leaving Snitch nothing to report to the others as they struggled to become a cohesive unit.

When they arrived at the first location Team A stood aside as Team D picked up their maps and the information detailing the exit location. Too bad it was written in a file rather than delivered verbally, but count on Mr Aizawa to think of that and not make it too easy on them. She found it amusing though, that by focusing so hard on limiting the advantage of people like herself and Shoji he’d overlooked the advantage others could gain by applying themselves just so. People like Anima who had quiet, highflying informants with good eyes that tended to be smarter than people give them credit for. Who knew some critters had dedicated themselves to learning how to read. Not that Snitch could blame Mr Aizawa for having his mind on her lately, all things considered.

Instead of the urban metropolis akin to Ground Beta that was used in round one or the factory labyrinth of Ground Gamma the area they were using this round was unlike any they had seen at U.A. yet, and it certainly didn’t seem like U.A’s style (and Kyoka was counting Ground Omega’s artificial woodland forest). It wasn’t sleek and modern or shiny and metal or open and empty. No, this area had a sense of place and an air of history despite being manufactured. It was like someone on the design team had taken notes from an immersive theme park creator, or from the downtown areas of European cities like Belgium and historical towns like toledo. It lacked a gridlike pattern or wide streets, instead they were narrow with shaded storefronts that provided cover while vines and greenery hung from balconies and lines stretched across the streets and trees big and small lined the streets. There was even an alley where a sea of umbrellas hung from lines across the street to provide shade. And tables and chairs set out in front of restaurants. The streets were cobbled, sometimes unevenly, which would have surely tripped Iida up if he was still in the game. And while some of the buildings had flat roofs most were tiled and slanted.

Snitch didn’t need the Soundtrack refining the sound quality of Anima’s theme or her quirk feeling and hearing the vibrations and beats of a swarm of frantic furry hearts to let her know when Anima’s forces were in place and ready to go. It was handy, vaguely menacing and terrifying when focused on for too long, but the timely arrival of an azure-winged magpie that perched on Anima's shoulder and nipped at him the second the other team turned their back was message enough.

Snitch slipped her headphones on, noise cancelling activating as her jacks extended towards the floor and plugged into her boots. The buzzer sounded and Team D ran off. Froppy and Deku both started to jump towards the rooftops but stopped when they saw the lines in their way forcing them to travel by foot until they found a street without similar obstructions. Why they didn’t enter the building and take the stairs Snitch didn’t know. Iron Tail b-lined left while Froppy and Deku continued forwards together before splitting off, Froppy again going left and Deku continuing forwards until he found somewhere to jump out of sight, up and to the left.

“So I’m gonna guess the exit is somewhere to our left,” Snitch drawled in a bored and tired manner that reminded her team of Hitoshi. The thirty second buzzer went off. Then the angry shrieks of birds on the attack filled the air, Anima's army beginning their assault by forcing Deku back down to street level, before splitting up so that one squadron descended on Froppy moments later.

“However did you guess that?” Anima asked, rolling his eyes as they all passively ignored the shrieking chaos as they entered the arena. They followed Snitch into the nearest building, a fake cafe, and up to the roof. The door to the top was blocked but Bakugo used the A.P shot he was developing as an ultimate move to blast a hole through the lock and handle, letting them push it open easily. He stayed hidden in the stairwell while Anima followed Snitch out into the open. They could see Froppy stalled on a flat rooftop a few streets over, fending off a murmuration of birds without much luck. Snitch tapped the heel of one boot against the toe of the other and stamped them on the roof, releasing a bass blast that gave her an echo map of the area.

“There’s a courtyard big enough for what we want, two streets to our right and five streets up,” she reported, “think you can get them there?”

Anima nodded and spoke into her controller. Snitch couldn’t hear what he was saying but she could feel the vibrations beating out of her speakers and the murmuration began attacking from Froppy’s left, trying to drive her to the right.

“Iron Tail is five streets left and four streets down from the target. Froppy is two streets down and four streets left of the target. Deku is one street up and two streets left of the target,” Snitch reported, “if your animals cover the north-south access I'll circle around and flank from the left, give them a good punch.”

Anima nodded, whispering something to the bird on his shoulder as he made his way back to the stairwell to head out with Bakugo. The magpie let out a screech and a matching bird broke away from the murmurations to follow Snitch. She ran for the roof’s ledge, launching herself into the air with a bass assisted boom as she bounded over rooftops two or three at a time. Pre’s and sticks let her land on slanted roofs for another jump, while she rolled onto flat roofs and ran across them before launching herself off their far ledge. She landed in the alley around the corner from Iron Tail’s position, using a boom to soften the landing that had him thinking Bakugo was near. She circled around the rodents blocking his south as he turned to run into the narrow street on his left that he didn’t know would twist around into a dead end.

“Have them clear Iron Tail’s north side.” Snitch directed her instructions to the bird. It chittered and flew on ahead, over the wall of storefronts and to the right. She met him at the intersection and, unwilling to be penned in on three sides, he ran the only way he knew was clear, north. Snitch travelled his left parallel over the rooftops, pressing closer every intersection and away on every straight to trick Iron Tail into heading east, while the rodents followed directly behind him.

“Iron Tail is breaking east, I'm moving in on Froppy.”

Snitch rolled onto Froppy’s rooftop, her feet toggling bass mode off as she came up in a combat stance. The birds dispersed, but they stayed close by, maintaining a higher, wider orbit. Froppy reared back and launched her tongue out at Snitch who made to sidestep it when a bird broke off from the murmuration to pincer the appendage with its beak.

“Arg!” Froppy retracted her tongue quickly as she stumbled back.

“Careful, they think it’s a worm,” Snitch smirked, shifting her feet a little wider. Froppy crouched low and sprang at Snitch in a jumping tackle, once her hands and feet were off the floor Snitch released a sonic blast right into her face. The blast threw Froppy away from her with nothing to stick onto, off the roof and a few streets over. The murmuration dove after her.

“Froppy heading east. I’m heading North to cut Deku off,” Snitch reported as she toggled her bass back on. “Have them drive Iron Tail North now, he should end up where Froppy’s landed.”

Admittedly a flaw with their initial plans was that the animals were all too slow to keep up with Deku to be able to cut him off or dive him anywhere, but they had managed to slow him down by keeping him low to the ground. While he could still bounce between the walls of the streets he couldn’t take to the sky or be bombarded by birds, the arena’s decorations both above and along the street and its walls. Snitch dropped down on Midoriya from above, blasting her heartbeat through her jacks and down through her bass boots to drive him into the ground and bounce her onto the opposite building’s slanted roof. She landed with a bit of a stumble but quickly caught her balance. Snitch carefully lay flat on her stomach on the other side of the roof so that she was out of Deku’s sight but Deku wasn’t out of hers and waited for him to get up out of the crater he’d made in the ground as animals surrounded him on all but his eastern facing side.

“Froppy and Iron Tail have rendezvoused outside the courtyard’s entrance. Have the animals dive at them from the west and drive them east,” she murmured. “I won’t get Deku there in time and I don’t think we can keep Iron Tail and Froppy there for long so feel free to spring the trap.”

Deku picked himself up slowly, staggering away from the waiting animals before realising they were only watching him and making no move to go anywhere. He looked around him with analytical eyes, obviously suspicious of how all his paths were being blocked off except one. Then he frantically searched the rooftops for his attacker.

“Snitch, I know you’re there,” Deku called out.

“Knew you’d be the one to figure it out,” Snitch commented. Deku’s head snapped in her direction but he couldn’t see her.

“Kacchan doesn't hit and run,” Deku growled, though his tone made it sound more petulant than angry or intimidating.

“You sure about that?”

“Howitzer Impact!” Snitch heard Bakugo shout in manic glee through her headphones.

A massive explosion resounded throughout the area, the vibrations gently shaking the ground beneath Deku’s feet and the tiles of the roof Snitch was lying on.

“Froppy and Iron Tail are incapacitated, two points to Team A,” Mr Aizawa announced. That drew Deku's attention away from Snitch. His theme stepped higher in realisation, though the way he tensed made Snitch think he was frustrated at falling for a distraction when he was actually bait. Deku’s theme swelled, warning her that he was about to activate his quirk before the tell tale green lightning crackled to life. Snitch frantically dropped down from the rooftops right in Deku’s path towards the exit in a desperate attempt to buy time; she was under no illusions that she could get him to cooperate with her or stop him, much less beat him. As she fell she plugged her jacks into her forearm amplifiers and toggled her bass boots off; looks like it was time to test one of her own ultimate moves.

Green lightning crackled to life, Snitch’s heartbeat grew faster and louder between her ears. She plunged the amplifiers into the ground and channelled the vibrations through them.

“Distortion Wave - Infrasound!” The ground below Deku quacked, cracked and splintered, tossing up shards of earth, throwing him off balance and putting him on uneven footing. The boot knife swiftly came out of its sheath and found its way into Snitch’s hand as she waited for Deku to approach her. His gloves were made of oa thicker material but his upper arms and forearms weren't. His neck was protected but his face was vulnerable and his preference for punches often left his chest open. Deku launched himself at her, right fist raised to slam down on her. Snitch stumbled backwards to maintain distance while her right jack shot over to his open left side and released a sonic ripple through the amplifier right by his ear. The shot left him unbalanced and threw him off course, Snitch could have used the opportunity to close the distance if the buzzer hadn’t gone off to end the session.

Snitch put the knife away and walked over to Deku, offering a hand to help him up.

“You good?” she asked as he took her offered hand with one of his while he cupped his ringing ear with the other.

“Huh?”

“Nevermind.”

The two teams regrouped before making their way to the location of their next match.

“You know what they’re planning?” Anima asked as they opened the information packet that had been left for them. The area they were working with for this round was centred on a wide open plaza and a few blocks offshoot streets that surrounded it. The exit provided to them was on the other side of the plaza, one street over from its far opening by a tall building that was probably emulating a hotel. With Deku’s speed and Froppy’s reach it would be suicide for Snitch or Anima to even try and cut across the plaza and even Bakugo would struggle to do so as well. She supposed that was Mr Aizawa’s intended challenge.

“They’re going to target us, use Deku’s manoeuvrability and speed to their advantage because they figure we’re going to stop them from taking the air again,” Snitch reported. They had no maps of the interiors of any of the buildings but the street map they were given was just a satellite or drone overhead image with the exit, entrance and borders drawn on it. It showed that, save for two open points, the buildings enclosing the plaza were all under cover. It would be a gamble to bet on, but the lack of interior design in the other training areas because of how often they were destroyed, Snitch was willing to bet that these buildings would lack interiors which would include unnecessary interior walls. If they did have those interior walls, demolition wasn’t exactly quiet but if they were quick about it it could be done.

“Are we? Going to monopolise the air, I mean,” Bakugo asked.

“Nah. if I'm reading this right, we’ll have plenty of cover.”

“Are you already mapping?” Anima asked incredulously. He leaned back to eye the back of her boots, confirming she had her jacks in. Snitch hummed in response, a suppressed smile on her face.

“Can’t use side streets. We’re so close to the centre that none go the way we’re going, they just cut across. So we use the buildings and mezzanines and awnings.”

“We have five minutes,” Bakugo reminded her.

“When it comes to traditional stealth, slow and steady wins the race,” Snitch shot back, though he did have a point there. “The bigger the area the less we have to stop because the less they’re near where we are. Especially if we stick together.”

“Think we can trick them into going the wrong way if we all turn one direction?” Anima asked. He pointed to a street on the map that was at a diagonal towards the plaza and adjacent to the street that they would be starting on with many perpendicular side streets connecting them.

“If you break off last we should meet up here,” Bakugo pointed out, approximating their average speeds quickly to make the estimate.

“Let’s do it.” They packed the information back into the folder and Bakugo made a point to scorch the file like an agent destroying information so the enemy could never get their hands on it.

The buzzer sounded and Team A in an intentional mirror of Team D’s strategy last time. Bakugo being the fastest broke off first, giving him further to go, using his explosions to jettison right. Kyoka broke off next, doing similar with her bass boots but turned the bass off when she reached the end of her adjacent street to allow Bakugo to catch up and make up for her boots making her faster than Bakugo’s averaging; he would have used their base speeds from the quirk apprehension test with minor adjustments.

It worked out because Bakugo only just managed to catch up and overtake her when they reached Anima’s adjacent street as he came out of it. In one mind Snitch and Bakugo grabbed one of Anima’s arms and used their quirks to launch all three of them as far up the streets as possible until Snitch gave them the order to drop.

“Thirty seconds,” she called and her bass and Bakugo’s explosions went silent before they ducked into the building facade next to them. Most teams wouldn’t dare try this because it left them blind to the location of the other team and severely limited their field of view in general. But Snitch’s quirk neutralised that weakness entirely, though it forced her team to rely entirely on her senses. When every member of Team D had gone past the street they were on and had to continue travelling, Snitch signalled for them to keep moving. They raced up the street under cover of the mezzanines until the road that circled the plaza wall.

Snitch had them stop short of crossing the wall and waited to get a better read on Team D’s locations. They’d be out in the open until they got into the building.

“Entry points?” Snitch prompted.

“Windows and balcony doors,” Bakugo reported.

“What about the noise?” Anima asked, head on a swivel.

“We’re not facing anyone with advanced hearing so if Snitch can break them with her jacks and they’re far enough away?” Bakugo replied. Snitch took a quick glance at the windows and balconies before she went back to tracking the other team.

“Glass and wood, no problem.” Snitch’s quirk told her where people were and what their status was, but it couldn’t give her any specifics. It was the Soundtrack that told her what they were thinking or feeling and, most importantly, where their attention was. Iron Tail was watching the sky, something he picked up from watching the other matches if not his own. Froppy’s theme revealed that she wasn’t looking for anything in particular but she was wary every time she spotted a small animal anywhere. Deku on the other hand, was desperately searching for Bakugo, which would make things difficult. Especially because he was the one of the three that was beginning to cotton on and it looked like he was going to turn around soon. Now or never then.

“I’ll go first to break open the door, you follow on my sign,” Snitch said, holding an arm out to stop Bakugo from advancing when he noticed she was about to take a step forward. Snitch charged the wall and stuck her foot in the indent, using it to push off and grab the balcony’s edge. Then she pulled herself up.

What to do now? Break the glass and open the door from the inside or break the lock? Breaking glass might get loud and breaking the lock left less of a trace, making it harder for the other team to figure out where they went or how to follow. She pulled the doors open and gestured for the other two to follow. Bakugo went first and got into position to give Anima a leg up while Snitch reached out an arm to help him up. Finally, Bakugo kicked his way up to the balcony and they all slipped inside. Snitch made sure to close the balcony and they all slipped inside. Snitch made sure to close the balcony doors behind them. They sprinted through the building, darting and ducking between each window. Luckily Snitch’s hunch that there were no internal walls was spot on; though her quirk’s echolocation had confirmed that a while back.

Unfortunately by the time they had reached theri exit point Team D had realised they'd been tricked and were doubling back. Froppy was searching near theri entry point; Snitch hoped she didn’t notice the doors. Deku was closest to their exit, perched at the far left corner of the plaza scanning the left side of the arena for them. Iron Tail was the only one still on the right side of the plaza. Snitch broke the lock of their exit window, body angled in a way so that she could just spot Deku through the window as she waited for the best time for them to move.

To win they would just need to make it across the street. Snitch made sure Deku wasn’t turned their way before letting Bakugo shoulder the door open and jump down to the ground. Anima followed after him carefully, Bakugo caught him to cushion his fall and muffle the sound. Then, Snitch began to follow.

She slipped out into the open. Her hands were rested gently on the handle, slipping off of them when she leant away from the door, her foot moving back to knock them closed. Then the Soundtrack blared Deku’s horns in her ear. Snitch’s head snapped instinctively in Deku’s direction as she stumbled away from the door and towards the balcony’s railing. His chest faced north, his right hand shadowed his eyes and he was looking out over the rooftops. His back foot shifted in a wider stance and his shoulders began to angle in her direction. The doors of the balcony knocked back into a resting position while Snitch fell, back first, off the balcony. But with the broken lock the doors didn’t click shut together properly, one rebounding off the frame to sway ajar a little. Snitch’s back hit a firm surface that gave easily, a harsh breath leaving her lips with the unexpected landing into Bakugo’s arms. She swat his shoulder frantically to get him to step under the mezzanine just before Deku’s head turned to hold the balcony in her vision.

Snitch gestured for her teammates to be silent as Bakugo set her down. She held her breath and hoped desperately that Deku either didn’t notice the door or didn’t come over to investigate. No such luck it seemed because Deku’s theme got louder before the sound of shoes on stone was heard above them.

Bakugo tapped Snitch on the shoulder to catch her attention, though she kept a close ear on Deku who was trying to figure out why the balcony door was open. She was glad she hadn't broken the glass now because he had not yet noticed the lock.

“You okay?” Bakugo asked.

“Yeah, the Soundtrack caught me off guard.” finding nothing wrong with the door Deku was now trying to examine the door frame.

“What do we do now?” Anima asked.

“Wait until he leaves?” Bakugo shrugged, he paused in consideration. Deku slowly and carefully tried to push the door closed, only to have it crack open again when his fingers left the handles. She let her attention slip a little. “We have the time.”

Snitch was about to agree but, caught off guard again, she paled significantly. Iron Tail’s theme was slowly creeping closer to them from the opposite direction. Without any way to go over buildings Iron Tail was forced to go around and that that was about to bite them in the ass. Deku slipped inside the building to see if that would get the door to close properly.

“Go, go now,” Snitch signed, pushing Anima forward.

“What, why?”

“Iron Tail’s about to turn the corner and flank us.”

“Shit, hope and pray it is,” Bakugo grumbled, nodding for Anima to go ahead as he dragged Snitch behind a pillar so that Iron Tail hopefully wouldn’t spot them immediately.

“On my mark we launch together. As soon as Mr Aizawa's alert goes off he’ll come out and spot Anima over there.”

The sign he used to indicate to Deku was a combination of ‘boy’ and pointing to the ceiling above them. Snitch nodded, jacking into her boots and getting ready to boost. Half of her attention was still on Iron Tail’s ever approaching theme and heartbeat. Their window would be slim and they’d need to be fast to get across before Deku could pounce and pin one of them. You know, Snitch was not expecting to push the limits of mei’s boots so soon but here they were.

“Anima has cleared the area, point to Team A.”

“What?” Deku cried. He burst out of the building and rushed the balcony railing when he saw that Anima was catching his breath in the shade across the street. “Oh!”

He scanned the street up and down, unsure where he needed to go. Iron Tail jogged around the corner, spotting them from the street.

“They’re over here!” He called. Deku turned towards him to see where Iron Tail was pointing.

“Now!” Bakugo signalled. In a thundering burst they rushed across the street, the glass door behind them shattering into pieces as the wood cracked and splintered. They moved moments before Deku figured out that Iron Tail meant that they were below him.

“Team A wins and is moving forwards. Teams B and C head down to the next location.

Chapter Text

“We’re playing against Team C in the final, aren’t we?” Koji asked as soon as he saw the area the match was going to take place in on the monitors.

“Yep, not having reach is a real issue against a flyer, a swinger and someone with propulsion abilities,” Katsuki agreed.

“Hawks is number two for a reason,” Kyoka deadpanned. Less than thirty seconds in and Team B was already halfway across the map. It was too bad Mr Aizawa picked the areas in advance or he could have compensated for that.

“So how are we going to handle them?” Koji asked.

“I’ll take Tokoyami,” Katsuki grinned viciously. “If he’s not staying out of sight I'm gunning straight for him.”

“Think beaks and talons can cut through tape?” Kyoka wondered. Thirty seconds had elapsed and Team C had entered the area, they wouldn’t be able to catch up in time but they kept running through the streets after Team B anyway. It looked like Red Riot was trying to convince Hydra to throw him again but the larger boy refused this time. Koji made grabby hands in her direction and she passed him the device.

“You know, this match and anyone going against us might be the only time the ‘fuck stealth and fly’ strategy is justifiable.”

“Why’s that?” Katsuki growled. He understood the advantage but it ruined the point of the exercise. You don’t learn like that.

“It takes away my tracking advantage. There’s no point in using it if I can already see them. Kind of sucks we didn’t get a stealth vs stealth matchup though, y’know.”

“What do you mean by that?” Sato interjected. He startled when both Katsuki and herself turned to stare intently at him. “Ah, sorry for eavesdropping.”

Kyoka softened with a blink, then shrugged. “Full horror movie shit. The other team running, hiding desperately, trying to make it to the exit while we hunt them down like silent shadows. Monstrous predators that lurked unseen, paranoia and uncertainty rising until the moment you think you’re safe. Then bam! It gets you.”

“That does sound like it would be your jam,” Ashido muttered darkly.

“Tokoyami’s too,” Hagakure pointed out, nudging the other girl in lieu of giving her a hard look.

“You might still get the chance,” Yaomomo said sympathetically. She reached out to lay a hand on Kyoka's shoulder but stopped herself.

“So long as we face off somewhere open enough they can fly there’s no chance,” Kyoka sighed, disappointed.

“How are we staying out of their sight?”

“I think we split up for this,” Kyoka said at the same time Katsuki said, “we don’t.”

The pair looked at each other.

“I don’t,” Katsuki corrected himself, turning back to the screens. Koji looked between them with a frown.

He pointed at Katsuki. “Distraction.”

Then gestured between himself and Kyoka. “If we split up I would have no comms.”

His nose scrunched up and then he pouted. “I’m getting caught, aren’t I.”

“Probably.”

“Eh.”

“Wow, such confidence,” Koji signed, expression dead and disappointed.

“Team C has evaded capture, the match goes to them. Team B and Team C please make your way to the next area.”

Chargebolt, Hydra and Red Riot had a better showing as the hiders than they did as seekers. They took a page out of Kyoka's team’s book and stuck together, relying on Hydra's hearing to keep track of their opponents. Their downfall came in that their area had less overhangs than Kyoka's team had so there was less to hamper someone’s vision if they had a bird’s eye view of the area. They also couldn’t afford to duck into buildings like Kyoka and company could. Their other downfall came in that light travelled faster than sound. So while they could juke Sero or Tokoyami, blasts from Aoyama's naval laser kept catching them completely off guard. In the end they lost by time out rather than by capture. Which was pretty impressive all things considered.

“Final match. Teams A and C please make your way down to the arena.”

The arena in front of them was extremely open… Great.

“What if we get the birds to attack them before their thirty second grace is up?” Anima asked as Team C looked over their ‘case file’.

It was a suburban residential area. Almost identical, two story houses with fenced yards lined into rows following the line of the roads and cul-de-sacs. There were few trees and even fewer places to hide aside from the houses themselves and Snitch could see what Mr Aizawa was planning here. The finale of their stealth exercise had the hardest setting to hide in compared to the vast urban downtown areas or the narrow, labyrinthine historical quarters. But he’d failed to take into account children totally ignoring the point of the exercise because the easiest way to win was to fly away.

“Was not expecting that from you,” Snitch muttered.

“I know we’ve been pushing the rules all day but that seems like a little much,” Bakugo agreed with a noncommittal shrug. Anima looked at them incensed.

“The low buildings will slow down Cellophane because he has nothing to grapple onto?” Snitch offered even as she handed over her pitch bracer and controller anyway. This area was the largest they’d had to deal with, another attempt to increase the difficulty of these exercises as they progressed and probably Team A’s only saving grace. Team B wouldn’t be able to fly to the exit within thirty seconds at least.

The intention was clearly to force them to navigate a open, single path in a low rise area blindly, quickly and efficiently. It would force them to be creative and take risks when finding places to hide or taking shortcuts. Maybe it would eventually devolve into a game of chicken as hiders would attempt to duke seekers in a mad dash to the end. Instead, why go around or through when you can just go up.

Time started and Team C rocketed off. Cellophane got a good starting swing by latching onto Tsukuyomi. It pulled the bird back down to the ground violently, Dark Shadow the only thing saving him from a concussion. Lumiere had chosen not to use his quirk from the get go, he was probably saving it in case he needed to sprint away from one of them as a last ditch attempt to escape.

He would soon find his path forward being barred by a family of racoons, not above throwing trash at him and leaving a mark. That cape was going to be such a mistake. Birds mobbed Tsukuyomi and Cellophane. Dark Shadow struggled to defend his host while keeping them in the air, Cellophane fared better getting directed by momentum and gravity but he couldn’t do much to hit the birds or get them to go away. Snitch could just make out the roar of a large animal from far away. She turned to Anima.

“If you were louder or more confident you would be so terrifying,” she commented. Anima refused to look at her, a serene expression on his face but his theme was obviously self-satisfied. It played an ascending E minor 9 followed by a G major before resting harmoniously on an E and G sharp dyad.

“Do you think they’ll kill any of them?” Bakugo wondered. Anima’s theme hit E minor instead of the E major dyad as he turned to Bakugo horrified.

“I mean we haven’t even learnt to fight while limiting human casualties and that has legal implications. So who cares about animal casualties?”

Snitch elbowed Bakugo but before they could do or say anything the buzzer sounded and Snitch and Bakugo immediately, instinctively, blasted off.

Bakugo had the easier hunt, jettisoning at the large dark silhouette that stood out so starkly against the bright blue sky.the birds dispersed quickly on his approach, shooting down to mob Lumiere where Anima was in pursuit. Cellophane also stood out in the sky but was a smaller target than what Tsukuyomi posed. He also caught on and changed strategies much faster than Tsukuyomi did as well, dropping out of the sky after his first and only swing to have some cover against the birds and hopefully get out of eyesight. Unluckily for him he was being targeted by Snitch, and Anima's birds didn’t have orders to avoid her like they did Bakugo. All Snitch had to do was follow the migration of birds and Cellophane’s theme to his location.

The hard part for Snitch was the fight. Engaging too long or too closely meant she risked getting taped up and immobilised. If he had the smarts to cover her speakers she would even be at risk of backlash against herself and would be forced to operate without them. The birds backing her up could throw Cellophane off and overwhelm him, as well as tear any tape on her off independently but they also limited her mobility and split her awareness. Luckily for her, she just had to hold out until Bakugo finished up.

“Isn’t it cheating to attack us before the thirty second grace is up,” Cellophane panted, turning to face Snitch when he heard her get too close to ignore. Good, he’d realised hiding was futile.

“If it was, Mr Aizawa would have called the match,” Snitch shot back. She landed with a roll, ducking under a line of tape that Cellophane had shot at her head. A knife came to her hand instantly and she swiped upwards, cutting the tape as she stood. A magpie caught the end she cut and flew away with it while a crow cut and carried the end of the tape that had stuck to the fence behind her. Cellophane kept shooting tape at her and Snitch kept dodging and cutting each line he shot; she couldn’t risk him making a web or blocking off her space.

Each line she cut a pair of birds came and carried them away. What exactly they, or Anima, were planning to do with the tape Snitch didn’t know. All she could tell was that they were flying towards Anima's theme and new birds were flying in from that direction as well.

“Tsukuyomi has been captured, point to Team A.”
About time.

“I could use some backup here?” Snitch requested. Cellophane froze momentarily in indignation and surprise.

“You have communicators!” Snitch took the opportunity to blast him with her speakers.

“I was going to ask where you were,” Bakugo commented. “But that seems unnecessary now.”
Cellophane picked himself back up and for a second it looked like he was going to engage Snitch in combat again. Then he seemed to think better of it and used the distance she’d given him to run away. Snitch was going to go after him but then Bakugo rocketed by, sending Anima's birds into a chaotic and frantic retreat, and making her pause.
Between the explosions Cellophane shrieked. His voice was so shrill it made Snitch wince.

“Cellophane has been captured, point to Team A.”
Bakugo appeared back in Snitch’s view, cracking his knuckles with a feral, satisfied grin. But before they could even think about going to join Anima an announcement rang out again.
“Lumiere has surrendered. Team C has been captured, Team A takes the match. Please make your way to the next area.”

The next area was the same story as the first, open, few places to hide other than inside the buildings and one straight line to the exit. This time it was centred around a roundabout.

“I was hoping for a park, tree cover would have been preferable to this,” Anima grumbled as he handed Snitch back her vambrace and controller.

“You aren’t going to use the animals this round?” Snitch asked as she returned the compact to her belt and snapped her bracer back on.

“Can’t hide when you’re followed by a swarm of rodents and birds,” he deadpanned, then looked sharply at Bakugo, “and I don't want them getting hurt.”

“So the plan for me is to give them a taste of their own medicine, while the two of you do your best to cover distance,” Bakugo confirmed as they approached the start line.

“Yep, good luck,” Snitch shrugged, rolling her shoulders back as they prepared to take off. Belatedly she realised that if Team C was smart they’d forgo going after Bakugo entirely and focus on Snitch and Anima. It would guarantee their loss but would give them the best showing. She just hoped they didn’t target her. The buzzer sounded as Snitch pulled the Soundtrack closer to her so it was right there for her to call upon for reference, and they took off. Snitch and Bakugo entered at diverging vectors, both set on going up and over, while Anima took the wide and winding path.

Snitch landed at the outer edge of the roundabout when the thirty second grace was up; just under halfway through the area. Bakugo was in the air just ahead of her but he’d also need to land soon or the recoil and strain on his wrists would seriously injure him. She darted to the side behind a nearby house so that he wasn’t out in the open. Nobody should be able to see her going up the street this way, even if they went overhead. The sustained use of her boots, quirk amplified at that, were killing her ankles she’d have to tell Mei about that.

Whatever Team C had been doing during the grace it didn’t sound like they had kept track of where the members of Team A had gone. While Tsukuyomi drifted overhead, scanning the ground below Cellophane and Lumiere had fanned out in an opposing line search pattern, bisecting the area. On the one hand it was silly that they hadn’t kept track of where they’d gone, especially since the skyline was so empty. But then again, in Team A’s last hiding round they had made a point of disguising where they were really going so their caution was understandable.

Predictably, Tsukuyomi spotted Anima first. The bird dive-bombed him and Snitch took off over the roundabout, knowing that both the boy and Dark Shadow would be looking down. Snitch slipped her controller off of her belt and brought it to her lips. They’d avoided communication so far, too focused on moving as quickly and efficiently as possible. But this was an opening that neither could pass up, so even if it slowed her down she tuned to Bakugo’s frequency and gave him the go ahead.

“Tsukuyomi’s targeting Anima, you're clear to book it if you're stuck somewhere without cover, the other two are still by the entrance,” Snitch advised. Moments later Mr Aizawa would give an announcement.

“Anima has been captured, point to Team C.

“Bakugo has evaded capture, point to Team A,” he drawled. Looks like they win, let’s see if Kyoka could widen the margins.

Snitch kept running in the open, jacks poised for an emergency bass boost if Tsukuyomi was faster than she was expecting. She didn’t bother taking it slow or sticking to the edges to limit sight lines, willing to take a wild risk even as she subconsciously pulled the Soundtrack closer around her as a protective buffer. She knew Cellophane and Lumiere were too far away to reach her, even if they converged on the centre street and booked it after her when they spotted her. Even still she slipped a knife into her hand just in case while she returned the controller to its place.

Even though she could hear Tsukuyomi return to the sky behind her. Even though she could hear his theme getting louder and louder in her ear. He never seemed to spot her as the Soundtrack never picked up in alarm. When she spotted Bakugo’s figure in the distance she started sprinting, bass boosting once or twice, even if it gave away her location to get the match over sooner. She high-fived Bakugo as she passed the exit line and Mr Aizawa’s final announcement declared them the winners before bracing herself on her knees, exhausted. Parkourist or not, Death Arms’ training or not, summer camp training or not it looked like her stamina was still pretty shitty. She’d have to work on that…

But the win still felt really good.

Tokoyami landed nearby Kyoka and Katsuki as they started to pick themselves up to head back to the rest of their class. Dark Shadow shrank the clawed appendages that he used to help Tokoyami fly but he didn’t retreat back into the boy’s body.

“I commend you for your victory. You bested us soundly, if not entirely fairly,'' Tokoyami said solemnly as he fell into step with them.

“Like Mr Aizawa says, world ain’t fair, villains aren’t fair, why should we be?” Katsuki shrugged.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Kyoka smiled, “most of those were my idea.”

Tokoyami nodded, “I see. Yes, that is… more in line with what I know of you all.”

Dark Shadow and Kyoka chuffed lightly when Tokoyami stumbled over a way to say ‘that tracks’ in his more formal and poetic manner.

“Yeah!” Dark Shadow added. He drifted over to Katsuki fearlessly and pointed at his face, stopping just shy of booping his nose. “We know how serious you are about winning right.”

Katsuki blithely waved Dark Shadow’s hand away.

“Though I must ask,” Tokoyami continued “at the end there, how did you avoid our observations?”

Kyoka shrugged, “don't know, I knew you were behind me but I gave up on staying out of sight at the end there too.”

“Maybe we need glasses, Fumi,” Dark Shadow trilled. Tokoyami swatted at his partner playfully but Dark Shadow just dodged around it and retreated back into the boy’s body.

“Did he really just stick around for a chance to tease you?” Katsuki grumbled in disbelief.

“Yes,” Tokoyami replied, exasperated but resigned.

Chapter Text

Koji needed to go to the support department. He knew he did. After a few hours of exploiting Kyoka's speakers and sound-manipulating devices yesterday, he realised he wasn't using his abilities to their best potential. He knew his quirk would evolve into something more someday; his mom had told him that, but…

An image of the chaos of the USJ flashed into Koji's mind. The pit of dread had grown in his stomach the more helpless he felt, desperately trying to dodge villains and the hazards of the windstorm zone as he relied on Tokoyami to protect them both.

The memory of the attack at the summer camp came to him next. More than the dread and helplessness of the USJ hearing that Katsuki was taken and then realising Kyoka was gone, he'd never felt anything more terrible than that utter despair and hopelessness. It was like the world had shattered around him, and the ground had fallen out beneath his feet. What was worse was that he was the only one to notice that she was gone. What was worse was that the forest was supposed to be where he was effective, and he did nothing.

He barely remembered the days after the attack, he was so despondent, dissociated, he might as well have been catatonic. It was luck that had him catching the news broadcast at Kamino ward, luck that brought him out of his fugue state. The relief he felt seeing them, knowing they were alright even as they were outnumbered and fought for their lives. He'd never been more afraid. All for One through a tv screen had him paralysed in fear, he couldn't imagine how the two of them stood against him so resolutely.

Guilt gnawed at him, knowing about the group that had gone to help. Not because Koji knew he should have told Mr Aizawa but because he should have had the courage to go, too. Even when the logical part of his brain told him he wouldn't have been able to do anything to help, he still regretted it. It wasn't fair; he should have done something, and he should have been able to do something!

What's the point of being a hero, of saving and protecting others, when you can't even save or protect the ones you care about the most?

"If there are no heroes, become one," the echo of Kyoka said with a casual shrug and a lazy smile as they lounged in a peaceful glade. She had said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I want to be their winning image," Katsuki's hands admitted as he put on the hearing aids that went with his hero costume. His head was held high with confidence and pride even as the rest of his classmates stared at him with something that resembled pity or sadness. He framed his predatory beaming grin with the index finger and thumb of both hands like a photographer would picture a scene in their head as a replacement for the 'image' sign.

"You can't help what your heart longs for," Hitoshi whispered as if he were sharing some big secret. Sorrow and grief dripped from every word.

Koji thinks about what his words would be and comes up lacking. All he knows is that he wants to try. He wants to do this for them and keep moving forward with them. He knows he can do this, so that's what he's gonna do.

I can help, so I will. Koji was so focused on the convictions of others and convinced he couldn't live up to them that He missed the strength of his own.

So even as the memories of the terrifying force of nature that is Hatsume Mei stick in Koji's mind, filling him with anxiety and making his knees shake, Koji forced himself to approach Kyoka before she left for training.

"You need to go to the support studios to adjust your boots, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's a low-priority upgrade, but I'd rather have it on the docket to be fixed at some point than when it's already too late and I've busted an ankle," Kyoka shrugged.

"Can I go with you? I want some new gear but they scare me," Koji admitted, shifting from foot to foot. Kyoka smiled like she had all the patience in the world.

"Sure, I know Mei can be a bit much, and you might need an interpreter." Her hands said something else.

"You're not weak for asking for help," they added as if she could read Koji like an open book. However, he supposed that she probably could with that Soundtrack of hers.

The Soundtrack. It was a sobering thought, not just for the philosophical questions it raised but also for the fact that they had all soundly agreed to ignore them. There are no heroes. Koji didn't understand how she could stand it and still stay sane. He hated even more how such a strong voice had been conditioned to expect silence and disbelief, especially when it meant she shrugged off some people, forgetting that she also needed to be rescued. But Koji didn't have time for all of that now.

Luck seemed to be on Koji's side today because when they arrived at the studio, Hatsume was too busy tinkering away with something for Kaminari to notice them. She nodded or shook her head as he talked, likely in response to ideas he described as she worked on a disk-shaped device. Kyoka left her notes about her new boots with Power Loader to give to Hatsume later and stepped aside to let Koji explain what he needed.

"I want a transmitter. The range of my quirk is limited by how far my voice can project, and there are times when there may not be enough animals around to hear," Koji explained sheepishly. "Just as there are instances where I cannot afford the risk of criminals hearing my plans."

Power Loader's mask turned minutely towards Kyoka.

"You two friends?" Kyoka's brow furrowed curiously, but she nodded anyway. "Right, I'll get on it. You got any other gremlins who'll need sound-based upgrades running around?"

Kyoka's expression was cool and impassive when she cocked her head to the side in a bird-like manner before a Katsuki-like grin flashed on it. It was sharp, piercing and predatory but with a side of guile and mischief. The pair of them reminded him so much of large cats when they did that. "Just the one, but Mr Aizawa will be the one bringing him down, not me."

"I'll keep that in mind." Power Loader turned to look at Koji. "Do you mind sticking around for a bit so we can figure out where the devices will go and what they should look like?"

Koji bowed slightly and nodded. Then, Kyoka turned to him.

"Will you be alright if I head out now?" she asked. He gave her a fragile smile and nodded again.

"I should be okay," he assured her. Kyoka nodded back to him and excused herself, waving at Hatsume as she walked past the inventor's desk. The inventor only absently acknowledged her presence, but Kaminari perked up from where he was watching Hatsume work over her shoulder.

"Hey Kyoka, wait up!" Denki called. The girl paused at the door of the support studio, allowing him to bound over to her. "Can I walk back with you? I wanted to ask you about something?"

"Sure, Sparky. If you're not needed here, I don't see why not," she replied, glancing back at Hatsume and the device she was working on.

"Nah, I was probably doing more to distract her than help," Denki replied with a genial smile.

"Word," Hatsume called absently. Kyoka jerked her head at the door before swaggering out, leaving Denki to chase after her coattails.

"You know JSL, right? I see you using it with Koda and Present Mic sometimes," Denki asked.

"And ASL, yeah. What about it?"

"Can you teach me?" Kyoka stopped suddenly, and Denki almost crashed into her back. Not that she'd feel it; that jacket of hers looked so thick and squishy. She turned to face him. A light frown wrinkled the top of her brow, but her eyes had widened in surprise. Denki's chest felt bubbly with glee at defying her expectations in some way. She was always so composed and cool, so catching her off guard like this was such a treat.

"Why?" Denki felt his cheeks heat up under her intense gaze. He rocked back and forth on his feet, suddenly embarrassed and sheepish.

"Well… Bakugo is hard of hearing, right? That's what the hearing aids are for and all," Denki described, stumbling over his words and talking around the point more than he usually would as he gestured vaguely and refused to look Kyoka in the eye. "Oh, like, I thought it would be nice to learn so he could still talk to someone even if he lost them… or something."

"You wanted to do something nice for your friend." Denki thought Kyoka sounded amused, and she was definitely smiling. He didn't know if that meant she was impressed or thought he was dumb and funny; he wouldn't mind either, honestly. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"-yeah."Getting to spend more time with Kyoka would be a massive plus too.

"Do you even know if Katsuki knows the sign?" Kyoka asked curiously, her gentle tilt of her head always seeming to lock in place sharply at a certain point, emblematic of how often she'd made the movement that she could not tilt it further or less unless she consciously tried.

"Oh, shit! I did think about that!" Denki exclaimed, panicked. "Do you think we should tell him-"

Kyoka burst out laughing, and Denki fell silent, pulling back a bit self-consciously. He knew she wasn't making fun of him, but that didn't stop him from worrying.

"I'm sorry, you're fine," Kyoka said. "Yeah, Kats knows sign."

Kyoka took a deep breath and gave him a brilliant smile. It was gentle with a sharp edge, serene but with a side of biting personality, and Denki couldn't get enough of it. "T. "That's sweet of you, Sparky. Yeah, I can teach you to sign. You can even join us for lunch to practise."

"Actually," Denki interjected nervously. His cheeks grew redder, his stomach churned with anticipation as a new idea came to mind, and his smile grew. " Do you think we can keep this between us? I want to surprise him!"

Kyoka snorted. It was inelegant, indulgent, sharp, but still kind, as she said, "Whatever you want."

And god if that didn't melt his bones into jello. And then she took it a step further. Kyoka threw an arm around DeDenki's shoulder as she started leading them back out to the training gym. They had stalled in the halls for a little too long.

"Can you imagine his face if you pull it out on a training exercise if you get paired up together?"

"Yeah! He'd be so shocked; who's the Dunce Face now?"

Kyoka hummed a note in the same tone that Denki's electricity buzzed at. He didn't know if she did it intentionally or not, but it made him want to spark back in return; the only thing that stopped him was that he didn't want to shock her. He was so captivated by the echo of the sound in his head that he missed what Kyoka said next and didn't notice until he heard her fingers snap. He expected to come back to awareness with her hand in his face only to find that one was stuffed in her pocket and the other was still on his shoulder.

"I find that snapping fingers in front of someone's face is very rude," Koka said as if it were a random non-sequitur, but Denki knew she was just reading his mind. She was cool like that. "Anyway, I asked if he still called you that?"

"Um" no? Not for a while anyway," Denki shrugged. He hadn't really been keeping track.

"Good," Kyoka nodded, letting him go.

"You told him not to," Denki declared rather than asking because everyone in their class knew that only one person had that much influence over Bakugo.

"You aren't dumb," Kyoka replied simply in return. She said it like she wasn't turning every common conception people had had of him since he'd gotten his quirk. She said it like it was true, and Denki could almost believe it when it came from her. "Besides, it isn't like he's lacking in other things to call you Sparky."

"Uh, yeah. We… we should probably get back to class now."

Chapter Text

Izuku’s skin itched, the fingers of his scarred hand twitching involuntarily. His legs bounced uncontrollably and rapidly in his seat, filled with energy. His leg bounced a little higher than before, knocking against the bottom of the table, making it jerk and screech audibly. People turned around to stare, which just made Izuku itch more, but no one called him on it. That was the problem. Kacchan would have called him on it ages ago. Kacchan would have forced him to calm down and control himself with an angry shout.

But Kacchan wasn’t there. Again.

The first day was… fine. It was unusual but not concerning. At first, Izuku figured he’d gone down to the support department to get a head start on the day. But when Izuku went down to meet with Hatsume again, he wasn’t there either. Izuku could have just missed him, but Kacchan wasn’t back at the dorms when the day ended either.

The next day, Kacchan wasn’t there again. He’d asked Uraraka if she’d seen Kacchan, but she hadn’t. Then she asked about the new fighting style he and Iida were working on for him, and Izuku was so happy she cared enough to ask him that he just had to answer her.

Later, Izuku tried to ask Kirishima if he’d seen Kacchan. Kirishima froze at the mention of his name, his shoulders pulling back and locking up, tense. He kept his hands pressed to his side, and they slowly closed into fists as he took a sharp breath. Izuku heard a few of Kirishima’s knuckles crack. When he spoke, he spoke through grit teeth and sad eyes. His shark-like smile was dangerous instead of bright.

“Why?”

“Um, b-because I haven't seen him for two days a-and I'm worried about him?” it came out as more of a question than Izuku intended it to. “W-What if he gets taken again?”

Kirishima let out a harsh breath that Izuku almost thought was a scoff: “No, I haven't spoken to him all week.”

“Eh! But you’re his best friend," Izuku cried incredulously. He scrambled for a possible explanation, mind-spiralling, before he started mumbling out the worst-case scenario. A hand clamped down on Izuku's shoulder, lightning crackled across his skin, and his head snapped up to look at Kirishima again.

I wouldn’t be too worried,” he said slowly, facial expression too twitchy to be casual. He was being careful with Izuku, using that same self-righteous, condescending tone that adults used with children. He didn’t like it, it made his cheeks turn red against his will, the words ‘quirkless’ ‘careful’ ‘fragile’ and ‘weak’ swept between his ears. He didn’t like how his skin seared with phantom heat. “Bakugo can take care of himself; besides, we have an exam to prepare for.”

Jokes on Kirishima, telling him not to worry or not to get involved, just made him want to do it more.

Kaminari hadn’t seen him. Neither had Sero. It took him a minute to stutter out the question to Ashido, but she hadn’t seen him either.

“Mr Aizawa, do you know where Kacchan is?” Mr Aizawa raised a single eyebrow at him. Izuku should clarify.

“I haven’t seen him in the gym, dorms, or support studio today or yesterday. What if there’s something wrong with him? Kacchan would never miss training, especially not for such an important exam.”

“While your concern is appreciated, I don't see how that’s anything you should be focusing on right now,” Mr Aizawa said simply. He walked away on silent footsteps that looked effortless and lazy despite how hard the motion was. “Now get back to work.”

Izuku didn’t want to get into trouble, so he dropped it for the rest of the day and did as he was told.

But Kacchan not being here today too was just ridiculous. Izuku was going to get to the bottom of this no matter what. Kacchan wasn’t at training that day. Hatsume hadn’t seen him in the studio when he asked her either. Then again, Hatsume was about as good as Kacchan when it came to remembering people.

At the end of training Izuku marched back to the dorms and straight up to Kacchan’s room. He was figuring this out now. His hand grabbed the handle and he was about to open the door when-

“Midoriya, what are you doing here!'' Iida called. Izuku jolted away from the door harshly, heart jack-rabbiting in his chest. His training was the only thing that kept him from falling over.

“I-Iida! Um, what are you doing here? I didn’t hear you coming," Izuku stuttered, and Iida's gaze narrowed.

“I was returning something to Kirishima.” he looked at the door Izuku had been standing in front of. “Why were you trying to enter Bakugo’s room?”

“I. I wanted to make sure he was okay,” Izuku replied, body still frozen despite the itch to twitch.

“While that is admirable of you that doesn’t explain why you were about to barge into his room. Why not knock and ask to enter?” Iida declared, his arms chopping up and down before gesturing at the door.

“But Kacchan doesn’t let anyone into his room!” Izuku whined. That’s why he had to try and sneak in in the first place. If Kacchan was in the room then he’d get exploded, which wouldn't be great but would still prove that Kacchan was alright.

“Then we should respect his privacy.” Iida stepped aside so that he was closer to the door than Izuku, then held an arm out to direct him towards the elevator. “Come, we have no business being here.”

Izuku unstuck himself stiffly and slowly shuffled down the hall towards the lifts. Idda followed behind him, his disapproving and watchful gaze refusing to let Izuku by. Nuclear option it was then.

Midoriya slammed his hands down on the counter in front of Kyoka, startling everyone around her. Kyoka didn’t look up from her book. It was cute that he was trying to be intimidating, but the Soundtrack didn’t like him enough to let him pull one over on her.

“Where’s Kacchan?” Midoriya demanded. His frown definitely wasn’t as scary as he thought it would be with the baby fat still clinging to his cheeks and his big round doe eyes.

“Not here, I presume,” Kyoka drawled. He was doing community service at a centre in town with Present Mic supervising, but that wasn’t any of Midoriya's business. “Why are you asking me? I’m not his minder.”

Izuku’s face scrunched up in what he probably thought was a snarl. Instead, it made him look like a pouting toddler. He could try to imitate Katsuki, but he wasn’t very good at it.

“Because Kacchan has been acting weird, and it’s your fault!” Midoriya replied hotly. Kyoka still refused to raise her head but lifted her hooded eyes to look at him.

“Possessive much?” Midoriya turned beet red and sputtered. Kyoka let her eyes drift back down to her book.

“Do you have time for this?” Kyoka asked, “Our exam is tomorrow.”

Midoriya stared at her intently for another minute before stomping away in frustration.

Chapter Text

UA’s class 1A filed out of their bus in front of the licensing exam arena, the sign that they’d passed coming in labelled it National Dagobah Arena. As soon as she’d taken a couple steps away from the bus’ entrance she took a seat on the floor and pulled out the box of painkillers she’d grabbed from Recovery Girl before leaving the school. She popped one into her mouth and swallowed it dry which incited a wince from the classmates that could see her and Mr Aizawa.

“That bad?” Koji asked.

“There are over one thousand five hundred students here,” Kyoka deadpanned as she took the hand Katsuki offered her to get up, “even more proctors and staff, at least seventy-five accompanying homeroom teachers and I'm pretty sure I can hear Gang Orca somewhere in there. Bad is an understatement.”

“Gang Orca is here?” various voices called out in various tones of surprise, awe and fear. Whoops, spoilers. Mr Aizawa ducked his head into his scarf with a grimace and Kyoka followed the movement to glare at him. It wasn’t his fault that the commission and board rejected U.A.’s request for special circumstances in regards to her medical condition but boy was Kyoka pissed and her teachers were just an easier target than an anonymous government regulated, privatised organisation.

Mr Aizawa coughed, drawing everyone’s attention to him, “if you pass this test and get your provisional licences, then you novice eggs will become chicks. You’ll hatch into semi-pros. So do your best.”

A weird metaphor, but it was motivational somehow. So motivational that it made Kirishima pump his fist and call for a battle cry.

“Ready, set. Plus-”

Kyoka quickly pressed her hands over her ears in precaution but Mr Aizawa was faster and shot Kirishima a red-eyed glare. He snapped his mouth shut out of conditioned habit but an unfamiliar voice carried on the phrase from behind him.

“ULTRA!” The Soundtrack scrambled to pull back but it was too late for that. The sheer quantity of new sound, the lack of her headphones and the stranger’s loud and over-enthusiastic voice had tipped her over the edge into sensory pain. That wasn’t even factoring in this stranger’s theme which started with the drums and yells of a haka chant before adding rock drums, the power riff of an electric guitar and the feedback of a peaking mic or speaker or something.

“Aah!” Kyoka wailed, her fingers digging into her skull so hard her whole body began to shake and she squeezed her eyes shut desperately. Katsuki pressed his hands over her knuckles, forcing her fingers to flatten out and reduce the pressure she was putting on her skull while Koji searched her bag for those painkillers again. Mr Aizawa turned his glare on the newcomer who didn’t look at all cowed or concerned about the damage he’d caused. Mr Aizawa just hoped that he could get this resolved before Bakugo decided to blow him up.

“You shouldn’t just barge in on other people’s huddles Inasa,” another new voice interjected from behind the over-exuberant and loud annoyance. This voice was deep and smooth like Hitoshi's but it certainly didn’t have the soothing effect Hitoshi’s had on Kyoka. It was probably a quirk thing but she couldn’t ponder the thought for long before it slipped away from her in a wave of agony.

Inasa stalled for a second to process what had been said to him, he didn’t even blink. Then, he was suddenly slamming his arms rigidly against his side and bowed so lowly and forcefully that his forehead slammed into the concrete, a stream of blood bursting from it.

“I AM VERY EXTREMELY SORRY!” Inasa cried again.

“Aah!” Kyoka wailed again. The impulses in her brain lit up to process the sound resulting in Kyoka feeling like her head was a pin cushion being stabbed into by a hundred knives all at once. “I should have brought more painkillers.”

“Shh!” multiple students admonished while Katsuki’s glare had devolved into open snarling. Kyoka cracked an eye open to get a look at the newcomers.

The one with the smooth voice had purple hair, that was a funny coincidence. His theme was classical, structured and elegant. Kyoka recognised this piece, at least she thought she should anyway. God it was hard to think. The Soundtrack obliged the silent request, pulling back slowly this time and pushing the guy’s theme forwards; that was nice, usually she’d have to do that herself. That’s when the ominous brass kicked in. ah, Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, that’s right.

The other boy, the one on his right, was covered in fur that obscured his face and body shape. His theme was a fanfare of operatic and dramatic horns that didn’t seem to fit this guy’s outward personality, but traditionally heroic wasn’t something Kyoka heard very often so she wouldn’t complain.

And the girl on his left…

Kyoka’s eyes widened in alarm but she quickly forced them closed again. No, she couldn’t afford to give anything away. But…

Bird song and piano.

There was no way two different people could have identical themes, at least, Kyoka didn’t think so. So that had to be, that would mean…

That was Toga’s theme.

“Wait a minute. Those uniforms," Kaminari gasped in awe, eyes hovering on the hats on their heads and the tags on their sleeves, “you guys are from that famous school on the other side of the country!”

“U.A. in the East, and Shiketsu in the West,” Katsuki growled lowly. He felt Kyoka relax her hands and moved his own away, resting them on her shoulders in an effort to keep her grounded, and in case he needed to use them again. By placing his palms on her shoulder, Katsuki was also promising that he wouldn’t attack anyone. They were occupied, face down, and if he activated his quirk he’d hurt Kyoka first, which he’d never risk doing. Mr Aizawa relaxed as well, deactivating his quirk. That didn’t mean Katsuki wasn’t going to be petty and not verbally attack them instead. “Can’t say I'm impressed. How good of heroes can they be if they can’t even recognise when they’re hurting someone.”

“Pot meet kettle,” Uraraka said under her breath, covering the comment under a cough.

“This, this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” Kyoka announced unprompted. Her eyes narrowed on the blonde girl, gauging her reaction. “And I've been kidnapped by the League of fucking Villains.”

That caused everyone in earshot to stiffen and the mood dropped significantly at the reminder but still Kyoka only had eyes for the blonde. Her gaze had sharpened and flickered to Kyoka when she’d mentioned the League but quickly returned to Inasa as they turned towards the entrance because an uncomfortable silence had emerged between them all. Kyoka followed her line of sight. No, not Inasa, the blood leaking from his forehead.

“Are you okay?” Koji asked as he held out the box of painkillers towards Kyoka.

Kyoka raised her hand shakily, thankful that most of her classmates were behind her or looking ahead as she signed, “that girl, that was TO-GA.”

Koji dropped the box, then scrambled to pick it up again. Katsuki’s grip tightened on her shoulders.

“Are you sure?” Mr Aizawa asked. Kyoka’s head snapped up to him, surprised. His eyes were hard but his attention was sincere.

“Positive,” Kyoka affirmed with a nod.

“Right, keep an eye on her if you can. I’ll tell the proctors and Shiketsu’s homeroom teacher," Mr Aizawa signed. “Just act natural, and JI-RO? Don’t let her get you alone.”

“Yes sir.”

“Eraser?” an upbeat female voice cheered and Mr Aizawa stiffened. “It is you, isn't it Eraser?”

A woman in an orange and green costume approached them. From Mr Aizawa’s reaction she was probably another pro that he knew, one that got on his nerves quite a bit. She didn’t look bombastic or high energy, but her voice and face were bright and open and her theme was a jaunty ragtime piano betraying her grandiose nature.

“I’ve seen you on the TV and at the sports festival, but it’s been a while since I've seen you in person!” she exclaimed as she came to step in front of him. Mr Aizawa's eye twitched and his face darkened. “Let’s get married!”

“No.”

“No? Good one!” Ms Joke guffawed. Oh, she was a restraining order waiting to happen, that explained things.

“Please be quiet, one of my students is very sensitive to sound,” Mr Aizawa drawled, smug and self satisfied while jutting a thumb at Kyoka. Oh, so he was using her as an escape now? Ms Joke turned her gaze onto Kyoka and took in her tense posture, pained expression and the sweat beading on her forehead. Her quirky persona quickly dimmed into something more professional, which Kyoka appreciated.

“But if you’re here, that means-”

“Yeah. my class is here too,” Ms Joke nodded, “come say hi to the U.A. kids!”

Ms Joke’s class of students approached behind her and Kyoka took a pointed half-step back into Katsuki's chest. They were all bright smiles and welcoming faces, words full of praise and admiration, but their themes hinted at a sinister plan brewing beneath the surface. With all the attention that was on U.A. Kyoka wondered if they were going to get targeted. Thanks to the sports festival and the villain attack interruptions they were the ones losing the information war after all. The way Mr Aizawa watched their interactions carefully only seemed to support that idea, though he was also speaking quietly to Ms Joke about something.

“A heart of fortitude is what I believe all heroes should have from now on!” Shindo beamed with a clenched first and a wink. His theme totally gave him away though, duplicitous punk.

“Your acting is good but you lack sincerity,” Kyoka stated, closing one eye and waving lazily at him.

“Eh?” The way he looked at Katsuki was condescending even as he claimed he’d ‘learn from him’. Not that he could when Kats was only here to watch, not that he knew that yet.

“She’s right, what you’re saying doesn’t match the look on your face,” Katsuki added as he batted Shindo’s hand away.

“Hey! Stop being so rude!” Kirishima admonished but Katuski just clicked his tongue and turned away.

“Hey, change into your costumes and go to orientation,” Mr Aizawa intervened, “don’t waste time.

“And Bakugo-”

“I know, stay with you,” he groaned.

“Huh? Kacchan isn’t coming with us?” Midoriya asked incredulously. Surprise and confusion flickered across everyone’s faces, except Koji and Kyoka’s, while Shindo smirked menacingly.

“Not taking the fucking test Deku. But good luck," Katsuki replied sardonically and walked away with his head held high.

“What, why?” Midoriya whined, panicked.

“What’s a private matter,” Mr Aizawa said firmly, shutting down all further discussions. “You have an exam, focus on that right now.”

Kaminari gave Kyoka and Koji an odd look, “You knew about this?”

They shared a look and nodded.

“Is he alright?”

Another nod.

Kaminari watched them carefully, then nodded to himself, satisfied. “Okay then.”

Warmth bubbled in Kyoka's chest at the easy trust he placed in them.

“You know, talking with other schools kind of reminds me that U.A. is famous.”

Ms Joke looked at Mr Aizawa's back as they walked past. “You didn’t tell them Eraser?”

Mr Aizawa opened an eye to see Kyoka smirking back at him before quickly turning away again before Ms Joke could notice.

“With this class, I don't have to.”

Chapter Text

Kyoka was so relieved to finally have her headphones on. They couldn’t block out everything, certainly couldn’t silence the Soundtrack, but they helped.

“Feeling better?” Kaminari asked with uncertain hands.

“Much. let’s do this,” Kyoka affirmed. She palmed the controller and tapped through the menus to set up her comm. connection. “Can you hear me?”

Katsuki glanced over at Mr Aizawa and Ms Joke from the corner of his eye. Mr Aizawa raised an eyebrow at him. Katsuki raised a hand to his ear without taking his eyes off of the teacher.

“Yeah, I can hear ya,” he confirmed. Ms Joke startled, glancing at Mr Aizawa for a cue on how to act but Mr Aizawa just buried his head into his scarf to hide his grin. That didn’t keep the proud glimmer out of his eyes. “What do you need?”

“Keep me grounded and get us a lay of the land? Anima’s going to interpret so you’re the only voice in my ear for now.”

“The first thing you’ll be tested on is speed in a free for all contest. Only the first one hundred participants who meet the requirements will pass.

“Examinees will place three targets on their body. You can put them anywhere you want as long as they’re exposed. Don’t put them on the bottom of your feet or in your armpits

“You will also be given six of these balls. The targets will only register as hit when touched with one of them. Get hit in all three and you’re out.

“Only the person who lights up your third target will get credit for your defeat. Defeat two people to pass. Got it?”

“So the game is designed to encourage ‘sniping’ and ‘kill stealing’,” Kyoka murmured.

“Seems like it,” Katsuki agreed. “Do you need to turn the sensitivity up or was the guy just quiet?”

Kyoka looked at Koji who mimed the image of ‘small’ at her.

“Quiet,” she replied. Kyoka took the targets and the orange balls from the boxes the proctors passed around. She slipped the balls into pouches on her belt and placed one target on the outside of her jacket where her shoulder blade met the flesh of her neck and her jack could curl nearby to protect it, if need be she could even jam her head against her shoulder to shield the device. The next one she placed below her belt on her hip so that it was slightly behind her. Having it somewhere she couldn’t see might be a weakness to others, but sneaking up on Kyoka was nearly impossible. Besides it was where her hand liked to relax and had quick access to her knife. The final target she placed on her chestplate in the gap between her open jacket around where the body of her sternum was. All the while Katsuki kept her posted on the different terrain in the arena and his thoughts on possible strategy.

When everyone was ready a seal cracked in the ceiling of the room and the whole thing unfurled like a paper box. Anima nudged Snitch and gestured to her ear so she tapped her noise cancelling off to listen in on the plan.

“They’re going to target us,” Snitch offered, “the sports festival means they think that they know us and how to beat us so they’ll try to take us out first.”

“Right, that’s why we should stick together, we can defend ourselves better if we all watch each other’s backs,” Deku agreed.

“But those assumptions can also give you an opportunity to get in a hit,” Kats countered just for her and Koji. “Sometimes the best defence is a good offence, unless you want to end up in a stalemate someone has to take a risk.”

Shouto shook his head before turning and walking away, "I'm going on my own I can’t use my quirk effectively in a big group”

“Let’s go!” Deku called, looking around at everyone else before picking a direction and running.

“Head towards the rock spire. The Ketsubutsu extras went that way but the outlook will give you a decent vantage point and the open terrain weakness is mitigated by using group strategies,” Katsuki instructed.

“That way,” Snitch suggested, following Katsuki’s suggestion and leading them towards the open rocky terrain. It was also a good neutral ground that they could all work in. “we’re headed towards that Shindo guy and his class so keep an eye out on anything incoming.”

“Right!”

The buzzer sounded. “The first test will now begin.”

Musical tension rose in the Soundtrack between the moment the announcement ended and when everyone’s reaction time caught up. The disparate themes surrounding Snitch were swallowed up, hidden far beneath a high octane battle theme. The personal themes were still in reach if she needed them but the cohesive composition was appreciated greater for her headache.

When the track’s bass dropped the Ketsubutsu students lept out from their hiding spots on the cliff above the class and, in unison, threw a volley of balls at 1A in unison. Deku leapt ahead, green lightning flickering across his body as he kicked Shindo’s back at him, the air pressure from his strength generated a blast of wind that sent the rest of the first volley flying away as well.

As the volley’s continued their defence oriented peers shifted to the outside of their group to counter and provide cover while the evasion oriented students who were already at the front, like Ingenium and Uravity, used their quirks to fall back and close the gap respectively. Snitch shifted closer to the middle of the pack so she could focus on call outs and found herself taking refuge against Creati and her riot shields.

The Soundtrack’s track pivoted when the rapid volley petered out. The tempo was still a breakneck pace but a heavy bass guitar added a sense of deception to their next plan, a faint but ominous synth line in the back. A student with a bright red scarf tossed four balls in the air and they plunged into the ground out of sight.

“Where are they gonna pop out?” Izuku cried, scanning the ground frantically. Snitch clocked their general location with a seismic echo map blasted through the soles of her boot and turned in the direction that they were coming from.
She plunged her jacks into her wrist amplifiers and placed them on the ground, palm side facing up.

“Right here! Distortion Wave - Infrasound!” She blasted her heartbeat through the amplifiers pitched at a level so far below the human hearing range that the ground broke apart, forcing the balls into the air.

There!

The double bass that appeared when she focused her gaze on them could only mean.
She looked over her left shoulder, “they’re locked onto Grape Juice!”

“I’ve got it!” Queen called. “Acid Veil!”

Shindo’s theme slipped to the front of the Soundtrack as he took a knee and placed his palms on the ground. It was bass heavy, kind of like Katsuki’s, relying more on reverb and vibration than tone to sound pleasant as it pulsed in her chest and… was that a gong?

“Brace yourself, Shindo’s got something big incoming!” Fuck, if only she knew what his quirk was.

“Maximum Force! Tremoring Earth!” he called, a wave of vibrations pulsed from his hands and through the ground, sending a shiver up Snitch’s spin before the earth shook apart beneath them, rising into the air and splitting the class up. Snitch found herself on the same shard of rock as Creati, Froppy and Hydra as they were thrown through the shroud of dust and towards the urban terrain area.

“Is everyone okay?” Creati asked after the ground had stopped shaking and the quartet were picking themselves up again.

“I’m good,” Snitch replied, her thick jacket and pants had taken the brunt of the friction. She cocked her head as she probed the Soundtrack for any incoming hostiles.

“Yes,” Hydra agreed, his hands were already exchanged for eyes and ears and surveying the area.

“I’m alright,” Froppy confirmed, brushing herself off.

Creati breathed a sigh of relief.

“So what’s the plan princess?” Snitch asked. Creati looked at her in surprise, a pale pink hue coming to her cheeks before she quickly realised that everyone else was looking to her to lead as well.

“I supposed we should try to regroup with our classmates if we can,” Creati decided, looking to Snitch. “I don’t suppose you’ve stopped tracking our heartbeats, yes, Snitch?”

“Remember that do you, princess?” Snitch smirked. Creati gave her a bright smile and nodded. Snitch put her hands on the muffs of her headphones. “Cover me, an area this big is gonna take most of my attention.”

“While she does that we should move to cover,” Creati instructed, placing a hand on Snitch’s shoulder to help steer her as they moved.

Snitch let the Soundtrack rush over her as she buffered the unfamiliar away and searched out the familiar. Beyond the four of them Uravity, Cellophane and Deku were still in the area that they all started in. They were safe from the Ketsubutsu students for now, the earthquake having blinded them too, but they wouldn’t be for long.

As the score passed over Deku, Snitch heard Toga’s theme there as well. She opened an eye to get a look at Hydra, there was a chance he would be too distracted to hear her but she couldn’t rely on that. But she’d also promised to keep Mr Aizawa informed, if they didn’t let toga escape here, it would be worth a lot more than passing a test.”

“Shoji, please don’t react,” Snitch said as softly as she could. She could hear the confusion coming from his theme but its tempo didn’t waver and he didn’t do or say anything so she decided to put her faith in him. She tapped her headset. “Kats, Deku’s alone with Toga in the collapsed spire area. Cellophane and Uravity are nearby but I don't know if they’ll get there in time.”

“Got it. Mr Aizawa says you should focus on the exam for now.”

She kept scanning the rest of the area, resolutely ignoring some of Hydra's curious eyes until she absolutely couldn’t. Chargebolt and Red Riot were together, Shoto was outside of the arena so Snitch assumed he’d passed and the rest were too scattered for her to place, even relative to each other.

“Anima, are you okay?” Snitch asked, risking the check in when all she got from his theme was staccato panic.

“I’ll be okay. Focus on yourself for now,” Anima whispered back.

“Right.”

She reported this information back to the others.

“Can you place their general directions?” Creati asked. Snitch nodded. “Then we should find higher ground so Hydra can scout our route.”

“I could always make an echo map?” Snitch offered but Creati shook her head.

“I don’t want to risk us going in blind, especially when you’re already pushing yourself even being here,” Creati countered.

“Whatever you want princess,” Snitch agreed, patting the hand that was on her shoulder. Creati quickly retracted it, clutching her hand to her chest. Snitch turned to ask what was wrong but Creati looked anywhere but her while Hydra and Froppy shared amused looks behind them.

“Uh, what about this building here?” Creati asked, pointing to a tall building on the other side of the road whose outer walls were all windows all the way around. Snitch probed the Soundtrack which had turned dark and mysterious with Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata for more information. It gave her back a similar theme that sounded like it was coming from above and behind them.

“Someone’s watching us. I sense a trap,” Snitch reported. She tried to catch a glimpse of their stalker from the corner of her eye. “But it’s like they want us to go in.”

“So far 56 people have passed. Don’t panic but do consider that your time is almost up, good luck,” the voice of the main proctor and presenter rang out throughout the arena.

“Shit,” Snitch cursed. “That changes things.”

“Yes it does,” Creati agreed.

“We should probably focus on passing, we don’t have time to find everyone else,” Froppy suggested.

“Yes, that’s probably for the best,” Creati sighed.

“Then what’s our next move?” Hydra asked.

“Spring the trap?” Katsuki suggested. “If they're prepared to take advantage of your weaknesses, then you already know they’re plan.”

Creati seemed to agree as she marched confidently towards the building’s entrance. “Act natural, but remain vigilant. If they believe that they know us, then they are sorely mistaken.”

“No good hero is a one trick pony,” Snitch grinned, echoing the words of Mr Aizawa as she and Hydra approached the door together.

Creati stepped aside to let Snitch and Hydra check for traps immediately on or behind the entrance. When they’d cleared it they nodded at each other and Snitch let the larger body enter first.

They negotiated their way to a higher floor where Hydra could scout as far as he could with his eyes. When they found a room they liked, Hydra posted up at the window, trying to find their stalker just as much as their classmates. Creati hovered near him, attention covering the door at the end of the hall while making it seem like she was looking out of the window with him. Froppy kept an eye on the door they’d entered through but crouched with her hands on the ground in a more naturally frog-like pose while Kyoka posted up against the internal wall. She placed a hand on the wall and leaned back to rest lightly on the trash cans behind her, extending one jack along her arm so that it was hidden behind her head before sticking it into the wall; if someone was looking through the window they wouldn’t know she had it plugged in at all. She played with the other jack between her fingers and closed her eyes, the picture of carelessness or casual focus.

“Are you sure our friend’s watching us,” Hydra asked, the only one who could safely do so looking out the window without the risk of his lips being read. Snitch pinged the Soundtrack again.

“Positive.”

It had also revealed a host of similar themes nearby. Snitch guessed the continued classical motif meant that this was their trap and they were all working together. There were 10 of them in total. The one on the other rooftop, five approaching the building from what was presumably their base of operations and four already inside setting something up. Each theme was a different classical piece of music but together they were characterised by the Midnight Sonata. Snitch wondered if that would change when their trap sprung. Guess they would see in a few moments.

When Creati glanced back at her, Snitch used her fidgeting hand to flash five fingers and used the free jack to point out the window. Then she slashed four fingers and pointed at the ground with the jack. Creati seemed to get it because she nodded slightly before turning around fully.

“Snitch, is there anyone coming?”

“Nothing yet,” Snitch reported. She tuned out the Soundtrack to focus on the vibrations coming through on her quirk, trying to pinpoint the location of the four currently in the building. “No, wait. I can hear four people climbing the stairs ten floors below us. They just entered my range.”

“Are they planning to attack us?” Hydra asked.

“No, at least not yet. Their heartbeats aren’t elevated enough for that. But they are definitely planning something because they aren’t stopping on the other floors.”

The Soundtrack jumped from the Midnight Sonata to the climax of the Dance Macabre and Snitch pulled her jack out of the wall. She tapped the noise cancelling of her headphones on just in case and quickly stumbled away from the wall.

“Jiro, what’s wrong?” Creati asked. Snitch couldn’t hear the words but she could make out their shape and see the concern pressed on the other girl’s face.

Hydra approached the wall and pressed an ear against it. Seeing that Snitch turned her headphones off again. If it was okay for his ears then she’d be fine so long as she didn’t plug her jacks back in.

“There’s music playing.”

Kyoka approached the wall and pressed a hand against it. She could feel vibrations coming from the other side and, tapping her jack against the wall without plugging it in, she could recognise the thrum of an electric guitar’s power riff through a speaker that was turned up to eleven.

“What was that?” Froppy asked.

“They’re attempt at taking me out and leaving us in the dark,” Snitch smirked, smug. Guess it was hard to learn that she was impossible to sneak up on from the sports festival, in more ways than one. She braced herself and jacked into the wall again briefly before probing the Soundtrack. “I’m glad I missed it because that other five? They’ve just entered the elevator and are on their way up.”

“So they were prepared for us, good,” Creati affirmed.

“How is that good?” Hydra asked with a tilt of his head.

“Because it means we can predict what they do next,” Snitch explained. “They tried to take out my hearing so I bet they’ll try to limit your senses next, leave us blind to their moves and keep us guessing.”

“Take cover, away from the windows!” Creati instructed, “that’s what the observer is for!”

Froppy crouched below the parapet, Hydra stepped behind a pillar, Snitch crouched against the trash cans and Creati slipped into the adjacent corridor. Then the windows started getting smashed one by one.

“Okay, so I'm ‘down’ and so’s Shoji, who's next?” Snitch asked.

"I' m not sure but it’s likely that they’re trying to trap us here, waiting for the right moment to strike,” Creati theorised, as she looked over towards Snitch with a guilty look. Okay, so she wanted their exact positions. “Jiro?”

“Princess, I thought I told you to call me Kyoka? At least make it Snitch in the field,” Snitch drawled. She cocked her head to the side and reached for the Soundtrack first instead of her quirk. When she couldn’t get a read on one of them she switched to her quirk briefly as well.

“Right, sorry,” Creati flushed. The tips of her ears were turning red too as she gripped her forearms and rubbed them up and down. Kyoka adjusted the collar of her jacket so that it covered the bottom of her ears in response.

“There’s one behind the emergency door, seven waiting behind the double doors. The last one is a couple floors down in a room full of pipes? But I'm not sure what they’re up to.” But she could place her theme, a song from the nutcracker. Something to do with falling snow?

“Then their next move is to block off that door and the windows and do something that will force us to escape into a terrible situation.”

“Like make Froppy pass out and threaten to freeze us to death,” Snitch realised, eyes darting to the vents above them and she finally recognised how the temperature was declining; waltz of the snowflakes. Snitch tore her jacket off as fast as possible and tossed it to Froppy.

“We’d be down one teammate, putting us at worse odds,” Creati agreed, “and the cold makes even normal people more lethargic as the body shuts itself down to preserve energy.”

“But don’t you need this?” Froppy asked holding the jacket out towards Snitch, though she took the blanket from Creati. The vents let out a telltale hiss and mist seeped into the room. Shutters fell over the windows, taking out that emergency escape route and the power in the room cut off. Snitch waved her off.

“Mei upgraded the fabric of my under shirt to have thermal lining. I’ll be warmer than Hydra and Creati even without it.

Froppy frowned and reluctantly put the jacket on. “If you’re sure.”

But even with the jacket Froppy was showing signs of drowsiness.

“We need fire, can you make matches or a lighter or something?” Hydra asked, bundling Froppy in his arms to share his body heat. Creati shook her head.

“That would set off the sprinklers and we don’t want to be wet and cold.”

“What about one of those gel heat packs?” Snitch suggested. Their conversation was interrupted when they heard a whoosh of flame over by the emergency door. They were welding it shut, trapping them inside.

“It would take too many to warm her up and they’ve turned this from an assault into a war of attrition,” Katsuki cautioned in her ear. She’d forgotten he was there for a bit.

“Right, your weakness. You only have so many lipids to spare.”

“Yes,” Creati murmured sadly. She shook her head and proceeded to produce a single thermal blanket from her back anyway and pass it to Hydra to wrap Froppy up in, “but that shouldn’t take too much out of me.”

She bit her lip trying to think of a way out of their predicament, “the only advantage that we have is that you aren’t as impaired as they thought you would be. They won’t be expecting a sound based attack.”

“Your Distortion Wave?” Hydra suggested.

“Structural integrity, I risk taking this whole place down with us in it” Snitch reminded him. She glanced down at her vambraces, the ones that allowed her to control the pitch or frequency of her sound attacks. Since getting them she’d mostly used attacks or developed moves in the infrasound range, expanding on what she usually did with her heartbeat. Anima was the only one who’d used its ultrasonic capabilities so far, using it to talk with animals at a level no one could overhear. Ultrasound didn’t negatively affect the human body, quite the opposite in fact; unless it was at decibels higher than Snitch could amplify, even with her new gear. Meanwhile, infrasound was too dangerous for Snitch to use directly on a human being; mostly because its effects were still largely unknown.

Classical music circled around Snitch in a dance. They were currents and waves that threatened to pull her under. Each instrument and melody blended together with a precise elegance that made them indistinguishable, all led by a conductor whose own theme was haunting, like a puppeteer pulling strings. She couldn’t hear Creati, Froppy or Hydra's themes anymore and Snitch couldn’t figure out if that meant they were lost or her.

Katsuki’s drums cut into the classical music, giving the nebulous a solid foundation and driving the circling dancers back. Where the classics were twisted and mechanical, Katsuki was simple and direct. Where their dynamic and tempo shifted and changed, ascended and diminished, Katsuki was loud, proud and unapologetic.

“You’re overthinking things,” Katsuki drawled. The sound of plastic hitting the ground caused Snitch to look back over at Creati. There, laying on the ground were 3 pairs of military grade protective earmuffs like Snitch’s but without any of the tech. “Sometimes tricks won’t cut it, sometimes you just have to fight.”

“Princess?”

“Please, put these on,” she said, taking one for herself and leaving the other two for Hydra and Froppy. It seemed like Creati had a plan, she lowered herself to the floor and started to make something out of her back. As it slowly rose up and took form Snitch immediately recognised what it was. She smirked but she also wanted to curse herself for forgetting what her boots were originally for, even if they weren’t as powerful as they needed them to be for this fight.

“Hey Kats, Beetle? I gotta drop off the channel for a bit. This is gonna get loud.”

“What is that,” Hydra asked, looking at the massive black speaker that had fallen out of Creati's back before Creati could explain Snitch interjected with a feral grin.

“It’s a Long Range Acoustic Device, also known as a sonic cannon capable of outputting up to one hundred and sixty decibels of sound within one metre of the device. Uh, for reference one hundred and eighty to two hundred plus are enough to kill someone at close range… because once you hit the two hundred mark you quite literally have the same vibrational output as a one ton bomb of tnt.”

“That’s right,” Creati panted, getting up slowly on unsteady feet. “Hydra can you prop it up and point it at the door? Snitch, can you-?”

“Depends, do you want me to launch them into a wall and the door off of its hinges or knock them out…” Snitch trailed off so that she wouldn’t have to explain how that
worked.

“You weren’t kidding about knowing everything about what sound is capable of,” Hydra winced in a low voice.

“Um, knock them out please, I don’t believe Mr Aizawa will approve of you giving anyone a severe concussion,” Creati requested cautiously, motioning Hydra to crouch behind Snitch but not directly behind the device and cover his and Froppy’s ears. Well, a concussion is better than damaged internal organs but Stitch could finesse that, totally.

Snitch jacked into the floor while she waited. Their opponents were positioned in a loose semicircle around the door, ready and out of the way in case it swung open. None of them were in the danger zone considering there was already two metres between the speaker and the door. That did mean that the one at the back, who was probably the ringleader considering she was sitting down, would be hard to hit all the way but they could deal with that.

“Ready,” Creati called. “Keep it up for ten seconds.”

Snitch unplugged from the ground, plugged into the device and braced herself for the recoil. Then, she pumped her heartbeat into the cannon. A burst of disturbed air rushed out of the speaker in a lub-dub pattern that promised no respite. The vibrations rattled Snitch’s body and she forced her jaw to relax so that they couldn’t chatter. The attack was deafening and the pressure was suffocating but Snitch kept pushing, counting the seconds by each set of heartbeats and waiting a little longer just in case.

When she’d counted fifteen and her entire body felt like it was going to shake apart entirely she unplugged from the device and listed to the side, collapsing on the ground to catch her breath. Her teammates noticed the pressure had dispersed and carefully and cautiously took off of their earmuffs.

“Snitch!” Creati called out, worry and fear making her voice warble and waver. Snitch gave her a shaky thumbs up in return before picking herself up onto shaky legs.

“That,” Snitch said slowly, resting a hand on Creati's shoulder to steady herself, “was probably worse for me than it was for you or them. Hydra, get the door.”
Hydra’s mask shifted and Snitch knew he was smiling. With Froppy still bundled in his arms she shoved the doors wide open. Behind them girls in matching white school uniforms lay on the floor unconscious.

“It worked, thank goodness,” Creati breathed a sigh of relief. Snitch knelt to check one of the fainted girls, other than some blood in her ear canals she seemed alright. Her eyes drifted to scan the other fallen girls while Hydra let Froppy down and helped her steady herself. That’s when Snitch noticed it. One, two, three, four, five, six…

Weren’t there seven behind this door?

“There’s one-?” Before Snitch could get the warning out there was a flurry of movement behind her and the double doors slammed shut again. When she turned, Creati was gone, followed by the faint click of locks engaging.

“Hydra!”

Snitch's jacks shot out and stabbed the locks, breaking them before quickly snapping back to her.

“Right.”

She and Hydra charged the doors, shoulding them open. Froppy whipped her tongue out to grab the other girl’s wrist. Between her and Creati's handcuffs they had her trapped.

“You came back?” she asked incredulously. “Surely you assumed I had already hit all of three of her triggers? This is an exam, you should be thinking of yourselves, not your other classmates!”

“That may be the way you roll, but we jam harder than that,” Snitch snorted, languidly tossing a ball up into the air and catching it again. She walked over to tag the target on the girl in white’s thigh as she absently reconnected her communicator. Snitch stepped back and crossed her arms, smug. Then her gaze drifted over to Creati who’s eyes sparkled with awe, wonder and relief, and her sharp expression softened into something more genuine before she gave Creati a playful wink.

“She’s our friend, which means we’d never leave her behind,” Froppy continued, nodding at Hydra when he made a silent gesture with his own ball in hand.

“And we don’t give up,” Hydra added, tapping the other target on her right side. The spark in Creati's eyes turned to a burning gleam.

“That’s just how class 1A is,” Creati finished as she palmed one of her balls. “We look out for one another.”

She reached out and tagged her opponents final target to punctuate her statement. The girl in white looked down at her waist before turning away from all of them, going lax as she finally admitted defeat.

“Looks like U.A doesn’t disappoint.”

The tense atmosphere dissipated and Froppy and Creati let the girl go. She stood off to the side and waited patiently as they tagged the rest of her classmates on that floor. The sniper and the one downstairs would still have a chance to finish the exam and pass, but Snitch doubted any of these ones would be waking up anytime soon.

“Thank you again, everyone,” Creati said as they made their way to the anteroom for students that had passed, “for trusting me and for coming back for me.”

Snitch sighed, exasperated, “no need to thank us princess. You said it yourself, it’s just how we are.”

“Still-” Creati sputtered, her cheeks beginning to heat up.

“Besides,” Snitch looked at Creati slyly from the corner of her eye and gave her a wink. “What kind of heroes would we be if we didn’t save a damsel in distress.”

Creati was as red as her costume now and Snitch laughed heartily, she could hear Hydra and Froppy chuckling nearby and could imagine Katsuki rolling his eyes sarcastically.

“You worried?” Katsuki asked in her ear.

“A little,” Snitch admitted quietly.

“Don’t be, they have this,” he asserted.

“Even your idiots?”

“Yeah, them too,” Kats chuckled.

Chapter Text

There was a click and the Muse was gone, leaving Katsuki in his and Anima’s silence, save for the sound of pounding footsteps that would rush by the other boy’s hiding spot. Katsuki grimaced, searching the arena below him for either of his friends. But the stadium was too large, the city district too far away and the ground in front of him too shaken to find any trace of them. Snitch would have been able to find them easy, tracking them with ears instead of eyes. But Katsuki couldn’t, so he was left in the dark, blind.

Deaf and blind, what a useless combination.

He wasn’t worried about the exam. Snitch would make it through no problem especially with Ponytail on her side, the other two weren’t so bad either. What he didn’t like was not knowing what was going on. Especially not when it came to Kyoka and especially not after Kamino. The last time he lost sight of her…

That wouldn’t happen again.

“I hate this,” Mr Aizawa grumbled. Katsuki twisted around in his seat to look up at his teacher a couple of rows behind him. Mr Aizawa’s tone wasn’t nearly as tired or resigned as it usually was; he still spoke in a stony, indifferent manner but there was a glint of anticipation in his posture that betrayed his tone as… disappointed. “It’s frustrating we can’t tell who passes or fails in real time.”

“And Shindo only made it worse by splitting the ground open, now it’s hard to see anything,” Miss Joke agreed. She froze, a grin stretching across her face before she snapped like a rubber band back onto Mr Aizawa, leaning into his personal space to needle him. “Wait, Eraser, are you actually worried?”

Mr Aizawa blinked and glared at Ms Joke from the corner of his eye. She remained unfazed but pulled out of his bubble slowly, if only a tiny bit. Mr Aizawa blinked again and his indifferent mask resettled on his face as he stared past Katsuki and down into the arena. Katsuki shifted in place, uncomfortable enough with the hollow gaze, even if it wasn’t directed at him, to turn back around.

“There’s something I've realised after watching my students in school and in the field,” Mr Aizawa began, his voice flying over Katsuki's head. “They might not have realised it themselves, but in class 1A there are two people whose spirit have a big impact.”

There was a prickling sensation at the back of Katsuki's neck that sent a shiver down his spine.

“They’re not leaders, or the most popular and the two of them don’t get along, for good reason, but sometimes they seem like polar opposites.”

Katsuki’s shoulders twitched upwards as he instinctively made himself smaller under the scrutiny. If there was any doubt before, now Katsuki was sure Mr Aizawa was talking about him. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out the other person he was referring to was Deku. The critique didn’t bother Katsuki, but the praise, the pedestal he was put on? He didn’t think he deserved it. He’s here and not down there for a reason.

“However.” Mr Aizawa threw his voice and Katsuki froze. His shoulders uncurled slightly and his head cocked to the side attentively. He could hear the smile in Mr Aizawa's tone and that was extremely rare. “Before I knew it their passion had spread to the rest of their peers

“It’s strange, but every time there’s some kind of major event one of them is at the centre of it.”

Mr Aizawa paused like he was waiting for something. What was he waiting for? Katsuki kept waiting for the floor to fall out from under him but Mr Aizawa was stalling pulling the trigger and it was killing him. Curiosity warring with apprehension.

“I’m not worried Joke. it’s the opposite actually. I can’t wait to see what they’ll do.”

The pricking sensation that still hasn't faded now only grew stronger and Katsuki shifted to sit on his clenched hands to stop him from reaching up to rub the back of his head.

“Even if those two aren’t physically with the others, their presence raises the standard for the entire class.”

Finally Katsuki gave in and turned around to face his teacher only to be faced with the undeniable proof that his teacher’s attention was on him and him alone the entire time. Warmth filled Katsuki's stomach, slowly creeping its way up to his body. The itch at the back of his neck only grew worse but he still refrained from scratching it. He refused to be embarrassed, no matter how much the proof was painted on his face. Mr Aizawa respectfully ducked an amused smile under the folds of his scarf and kept his gaze carefully blank but intense.

“You’ve fallen for them hard,” Ms Joke observed dryly. She sounded unimpressed. Like this aspect was something she didn’t find ‘attractive’ and that made familiar cricks in his neck, around his eyes and in his hands act up inexplicably.

“I’m honoured to have them as students,” Mr Aizawa said simply and his gaze was still wholly on Katsuki. “My class 1A.”

It was like Mr Aizawa was trying to remind Katsuki not to take his words lightly. And, well… It was a fair assessment, he used his logical ruses to teach them to never take things lightly in the first place. He proved it once after the sports festival, again at Kamino and again just days ago. And even after a lot of missteps Ears still trusted him as best she could.

Maybe it was time Katsuki stopped hearing and actually started listening to what he had to say.

“Jiro’s going to be fine, Bakugo. She won’t let you down.”

Katsuki turned away again with a derisive snort, focus cast out to the city district where he knew Kyoka was. He wanted to tell Mr Aizawa he wasn’t worried about the exam, it’s the League and the not knowing that’s getting to him.

But he doesn’t say that.

“It’s funny,” Katsuki said. He cast his mind back to Kamino ward, that rush of adrenaline that made him move in a way that he’s only heard Deku describe before and music that he didn’t know was real or not at the time that he was now certain had come from the Soundtrack, “that you call me one of our class’s sources of passion, like I'm some sort of inspiration. Because as much as I've influenced them, her, -”

A burst of disturbed air, accompanied by a calamitous uproar shook across the arena in waves. Windows shuddered, pipes creaked and Katsuki could feel the aftershocks of Snitch’s heart beat in his bones. Their beats didn’t match, but Snitch was a musician and she knew how to make their rhythms complement each other.

“She’s my Muse.”

“Smitten aren’t ya kid?” Ms Joke drawled. Shit. He forgot she was here.

“No,” Katsuki scoffed. “She’s already got two of our classmates vying for her attention, she doesn’t need another. Sides’ we’re good with what we got, who needs more than that?”

Snitch’s comm conveniently clicked back online and Katsuki settled back into the drama of the exam.

“More examinees have passed, we’re at sixty people now. That means there are forty spots left,” the announcer called.

Shit. Denki dived into a roll to avoid the mounds of amorphous flesh flying at him and over his head. He would have to finish this up soon.

More flesh came flying at him and Denki stumbled and tripped away from it desperately.

How did he end up in this situation? His eyes flickered to the ball of flesh that was once Kirishima with a pained grimace. Denki could really use his help right about now but he’d charged in without thinking when this Shiketsu guy insulted their class and now he was a disgusting ball of flesh.

Denki pulled some of his cartridges off of his belt and slotted them into his wrist mounted shooter like he was loading magazines into a gun as he sidestepped his opponents next attack. He pointed at the flesh and pulled the trigger releasing probes connected to his shooter by copper wires. The flesh split apart on contact with the probes, which shouldn’t have been that heavy, allowing them to fly towards his attacker who leaned away from them so that they embedded themselves into the wall behind him.

“You should work on your aim,” Flesh Guy tutted. Come on Denki, what would Bakugo do? “Your class is just full of disgraces. Your friend here reacted impulsively to a simple provocation. And Bakugo is a beast with an inflated sense of pride.

“In fact, I'm surprised I haven't seen him yet. I would have loved the chance to teach him a lesson and break that pride. To show him what it means to be dignified like a proper hero.”

“Dude, you’re insane,'' Kaminari hissed. He couldn’t get in close, the Flesh Guy would just ball him up. He couldn’t just keep shooting probes at the guy either. He had a limited supply and would probably need them later too.

“For now I'll settle for dealing with you! You will be remade from scratch!”

“Aah!”

Volleys of flesh rocketed towards him again and Denki was forced to outrun and clumsily avoid them again. He pressed a button in his palm that released a clamp in the cartridge. Meanwhile Flesh Guy just stood back lazily and watched, smug. The bastard even had the gall to keep monologuing like some evangelist preacher.

“The test has an unusually low passing rate. At first this seems counterintuitive given our current world. With All Might retired wouldn’t it make more sense to flood the streets with heroes?

“So I must assume that their goal is to weed out the riff raff. We can surmise they’re being more selective in order to bring the profession of hero to a higher level.”

Denki was beginning to sweat now, a burning sensation blooming in his legs. He couldn’t keep this up, he’d just exhaust himself. He needed space to think and he needed this guy to fucking move!

Arg what should he do? Denki had to think, think!

“And I agree with this way of thinking, so I decided to thin out the herd myself.”

Man this guy sure likes to hear himself talk. Wait. he likes to hear himself talk, so maybe Denki if could keep him talking he'd let his guard down.

“You’re ignoring the exam because you think you’re superior?”

“Hm. I'm merely separating the mediocre from the extraordinary.” His attacks stopped, giving Denki space to breathe. Flesh Guy looked down at his feet where Kirishima lay and dug a foot into the ball. Then he grinned maliciously. “By the way, your friend here still feels pain in this form. So your untamed electricity will torture him if you use it.”

Denki glared at the other boy, true anger hardening around his eyes. The insults were discarded easily enough, but that sort of callous disregard… Denki wouldn’t stand for it. His mind flashed briefly again to imagine what Bakugo would do. But maybe Denki should do what he does best, what Kyoka would want him to do, the theatrical thing to do, and provoke a sleeping beast into blowing up. Denki cocked his hip to the side and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“You’ve been doing nothing but hurl insults at us this entire time,” Denki huffed. He met Flesh Guy’s eyes with a withering gaze of his own over the top of his visor, head tilted down dismissively. “It’s funny that you think someone as cruel as you would ever be a good hero.”

“Shut up!” Flesh Guy growled, leaning forwards aggressively and taking a step towards Denki. Denki stopped a smirk from flickering across his face before he had the chance to give the game away, gotcha.

“You say Red Riot is a disgrace? That Bakugo has an inflated sense of pride?” Denki continued undaunted. He carefully manipulated his expression into a derisive sneer. “Well you’re nothing but a no name constantly running his mouth.”

“Silence!” Flesh Guy shouted, stepping forwards again and throwing his stumpy arm out as his flesh moved to attack again. Denki easily shifted out of the path of the blind attack. He pointed a finger gun at Flesh Guy.

“By the way, big shot.” Static crackled at his fingertip, the smell of ozone filtering into the air as Denki generated a light buzz that put hairs on end. “You’te stumbled into a killer spot.”

“What?”

Denki released the electricity he’d built up down the arm where his shooter was mounted and down into his foot that stood atop the copper wire he’d let pool on the floor. The electricity giddily rushed down the wire travelling straight for the probe that he’d embedded into the wall earlier. And right in the middle of point A and point B was Flesh Guy, both feet planted firmly atop the copper. It wouldn’t do as much damage as if one of the probes had stuck into his flesh, but Denki could compensate for that by raising his output.

The smell of burning flesh hit Denki’s sinuses overpowering the ozone. Once that scent had made Denki nauseous, now he was simply unfazed. He cut off his release when the floating blobs of flesh fell out of the sky. Flesh Guy fell to his knees after Denki let go, paralysed by the electric impulses that skittered through his body and interfered with his nerves.

“If you press this button here the shooter will release the cartridge entirely and cycle over automatically to the next loaded or unloaded pointer, but if you press this button here the clamp that holds the copper wire taught will release allowing you to extend the length of the wire until it’s all pulled out of the cartridge. At that point if you pull when the clamp is released the cartridge will come out but pulling when the clamp is closed will give you a strong cable,” Denki recalled Hatsume telling him. “If you want to have multiple probes attached to the pointer at the same time to create some sort of web press this button here to cycle to the next shooter point and use this dial to select which of the wires you want your electricity to travel down but press the button on the top of the dial if you want to shoot down all 3 sets of probes at the same time.“

“That sounds like a lot to remember,” Denki had chuckled nervously, “but it's worth it if I can fight without hurting my friends.”

“I’ve also upgraded your transceiver,” Power Loader had added. It wasn’t an upgrade that Denki had requested and the strange grin on the teacher’s face made him feel like he was missing something. “It’ll have a greater range and power with a few other surprises.”

“Oh, uh. Thanks.”

Denki blew his hair out of his eyes, ready to shoot Flesh Guy again if he tried anything. The pain seemed to be making him lose control of his quirk as the Kirishima flesh ball shook and unravelled.

Denki understood what Bakugo meant now. He got what Bakugo and Kyoka were saying about control. There are people in the field that he wanted to keep safe and he couldn’t do that if he was more of a danger to them than their enemies. But it’s not just about that, it was about protecting the civilians that couldn’t protect themselves too. That’s what it meant to be a real hero. Not any of this self-righteous crap.

It had taken him a while to figure it out, but he could finally do that now. By turning himself into a real stun gun. And he was proud of it.

Denki took a breath before he spoke again. He needed to buy just a little more time to get Kirishima back up.

“Listen up. Bakugo may seem like a total jerk on the surface but he’s trying really hard to be a pro, and a better person.” The Flesh Guy struggled to raise his head to meet Denki's eyes, but Denki didn’t need him to make his point clear. “You only know bits and pieces of information about him.

“So you don’t get to insult him or my class.”

“I’ll teach you to be more aware of your place! You degenerate!” Flesh Guy snarled and pounced at Denki. Denki took a step back but didn’t shoot him again, instead letting the recovered Kirishima punch him in the gut with a hardened fist and send him flying down the road.

“Thanks for the save, Kaminari,” Kirishima cheered, giving him a thumbs up and a sharp grin.

“It’s good to have you back,” Denki nodded, eyes still on the road ahead of them as he loaded the next set of cartridges into all three of his shooting points.. “ You know I was talking to you too, right?”

“What?” Kirishima asked, taken aback.

Denki shook his head, “I know you all think I'm an idiot but I'm not oblivious, Kirishima.

“Something’s up between the two of you and it’s obvious that Bakugo doesn’t know what’s wrong. It’s also obvious that you’re the one refusing to talk.

“But you’re never going to figure it out if you let it keep festering like this.

“Now look alive, we have targets to take out.”

Chapter Text

“Currently seventy people have passed, thirty more and we’ll be finished.”

“Oh, hey! I found Todoroki!” Kyoka called, leading her friends through the throngs of people towards his theme. The mournful voice that haunted Todoroki made him so much more distinct above the din. Todoroki looked up at her call, the singer’s cries fading away to a murmur as relief washed over him. The drums quieted as well; the Soundtrack’s courtesy to her.

“Good. I’m glad to see you passed Todoroki,” Yaomomo sighed relieved. “Have you seen any of the others?”

“No. so far we’re the only ones here. I just arrived," Todoroki tilted his head curiously. “I thought Midoriya had everyone working together?”

“That was the plan, but someone from Ketsubutsu split us up with his quirk,” Kyoka shrugged.

A theme filled with heavy guitar, drumming and the occasional woodwind beat at the back of Kyoka’s head, more pronounced than any other. She turned both ways, searching the area for the source of the theme and whoever was watching them. Her eyes met with that extremely loud Inasa guy from the entrance whose gaze was locked intently on their group.

She narrowed her eyes back at him as she searched his theme for intent. He was with that same school Toga had infiltrated but Kyoka hadn’t bothered to dig too deeply earlier on account of the shouting and splitting headache. She followed his line of sight to find that he was scowling at Todoroki but his theme suggested he was actually angry at Endeavor and Kyoka found her focused frown becoming a seething glower.

Todoroki shifted closer to Kyoka and suddenly Inasa seemed to notice her attention. He flinched and his head sharply jolted away. Kyoka’s hand caught Todoroki's cuff, giving it a light tug. His head tilted sedately to look down at her, eyes narrowed in a manner that wasn’t curious but intent on evoking a response.

“Can we talk?” She asked, “We haven't had a chance since We all moved into the dorms.”

Todoroki nodded, eyes flickering in understanding and began to pull Kyoka closer to one of the walls. Admittedly it wasn’t very private but nowhere they went would be, and like her parents told her it was really the illusion that mattered.

“Are you okay?” Kyoka asked. Todoroki nodded but she didn’t quite believe him, not when that mourning voice was back again, even if this time she was singing with the violins. Nor did Kyoka miss how the singer had only returned in the days after Kyoka told Todoroki about Dabi. “Don’t lie to me. You can’t.”

“I’m thinking about Toya,” Todoroki admitted. I don’t know what to do next.”

“Well, you can start by helping me figure out what I should tell Mr Aizawa.”

“You haven’t told him yet?” Todoroki sounded surprised, eyes widening minutely.

“No. I was waiting for you. I mean you don’t have to do it with me, I just meant that I was waiting for your permission?”

“Oh, that’s considerate of you.” Todoroki trailed off and stared absently off to the side. “Do you… do you trust Mr Aizawa?”

“More than All Might,” Kyoka replied promptly. It wasn’t the most glowing endorsement, to her anyway, but it would do the trick.”

“Then yes. Yes, you can tell him," Todoroki decided. He moved to leave but Kyoka caught him again.

“Oh, and Todoroki? One last thing. Could you do me a favour and keep away from that Inasa guy from Shiketsu,” Kyoka requested, bobbing her head in Inasa’s direction. He was still, very unsubtly staring at them. Todoroki glanced over but held her gaze as he analysed the lines of her face. What he was looking for Kyoka didn’t know.

“Is there-? Is he-?” Todoroki hissed. The hand she had grabbed grew so cold so quickly that she immediately dropped it with an inhale sucked through grit teeth.

“No, no. Nothing like that,” Kyoka corrected quickly once she’d clocked what Todoroki was implying. Inasa wasn’t a villain, he was just volatile. Well, that’s as much as Kyoka could figure from the Soundtrack anyway. “I think he just seems to have an issue with your father, don’t we all, but he’s taking it out on you.”

“Did the-'' Todoroki glanced at nothing above Kyoka's head for a moment and Kyoka got the idea he was trying to talk about the Soundtrack. “Tell you that?”

He wasn’t wrong. The Soundtrack just made what was already there more obvious and Kyoka hoped that even a version of her without it wouldn’t be that oblivious. Sure it accentuated the invisible too. But taking a moment to dissect the Soundtrack was basically like taking a moment to empathise with or understand someone right?

“Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how he’s been glaring at you all day?”

“Ah.”

“Todoroki.”

“Hey Kyoka!” Kaminari called, jogging towards the two of them from the direction of the food table. One of the others must have directed him over. “There you are. Yaomomo said you’d passed too but I didn't see you around so I got worried.”

He noticed Todoroki standing beside her and stumbled to a stop short of their personal bubble. Normally he would have sidled up to Kyoka, comfortably leaning against her, especially with her hero costume to protect her from stray sparks. Instead he waited on arms length away fidgeting with his hands and shuffling in place anxiously.

“Oh, were you two in the middle of something?” he asked with uncertainty. He picked at the seams of his jacket sleeve. “I could leave if you want me to.”

“No, it’s fine Sparky. We were just wrapping up.” Kyoka looked pointedly at Todoroki who nodded solemnly in return before excusing himself to go find the others again. Though it didn’t seem that he had to go far as everyone from their class was slowly migrating over to Kyoka and Kaminari with their food and drink. “So. what did you need?”

“I just wanted to thank you. You and Bakugo actually,” Kaminari admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Kyoka watched him try to casually shift closer for all of a second as he spoke before she obligingly stepped closer. “But he’s not here right now.”

“What for?” Kyoka asked with a tilt of her head.

“Believing in me,” Kaminari admitted, “unapologetically telling me to do better and holding me to it. For being so patient with my dumb ass.”

“You’re not dumb,” Kyoka and Kaminari chorused. He beamed at her, Kyoka gave him an amused huff.

“Yeah, that.”

Kyoka shoved him playfully. Then both of them sidled over to the rest of their classmates to put their attention back on the exam and the rest of their classmates.

“Only eighteen spots left,” Yaomomo muttered anxiously, looking up at the screen that displayed an overhead shot of the arena. Kyoka probed the Soundtrack to get a better view of what was going on, tapping her noise cancelling on as she searched the arena for familiar themes.

The rest of their classmates were scattered in the central part of the arena. They were in small groups but were surrounded or pinned down by heavy fire. A tense theme with a frantic rhythm filled the score, high strings bearing down like the judgement of a chorus. A drum beat like a ticking clock. The piece was lacking in melody, long sustained synth chords and violin notes kicking in at regular intervals accented the percussion; even the short guitar riff conformed, drawing out each string. Even still, it sounded like you were in the middle of an overwhelming storm.

Kyoka found Iron Tail, Grape Juice, Queen and Invisible Girl first. Following the theme as it spiralled inwards drew her past Sugarman, Anima and Tsukuyomi. Now that she’d started the Soundtrack pulled her deeper and deeper into the storm. Near the centre she found Ingenium and Lumiere with enemies in close pursuit behind them.

A beat passed at rest.

Then another.

Before a flare of familiar sparkling blue light shot into the sky like a beacon that they could see even from the anteroom. It was accompanied by a single note from a glockenspiel, high, metallic but unnaturally sustained, almost mimicking the strain Aoyama’s quirk put on his body when using it for too long.

The violins of his theme filtered in as his resolve hardened, mournful and apologetic, the guitar motif was absent. Then, the tempo dropped as birds swarmed the area, and the music was kicked back in again at full force, this time accompanied by a powerful beat track. The rest of class 1A flooded into the area like moths to a flame to support Ingenium and Lumiere. They dragged Aoyama's theme to stand above the rest, bolstered by a new guitar melody that fought playfully with his old violins that found themselves accompanied briefly by some brass. The violins faltered, taken aback as they switched keys to play something triumphant and hopeful.

So close to giving up, to sacrificing himself, 1A refused to let Lumiere's light go out. Even if they didn’t know what Aoyama had been planning, the Soundtrack did, their themes did, and they adjusted accordingly. They sustained the rising action, adapting aspects of their songs to reflect Aoyama's. Kyoka had never heard Tokoyami’s theme play that high, even if he was supporting the guitar.

Disco, bubblegum pop and lo-fi beats were traded out for a hip hop one. Mineta’s double bass played at the same octave as Tokoyami’s bass guitar, mimicking his accompaniment style but for the violin melody. Iida’s chiptune seemed to have taken the glockenspiel and interspersed the score with quiet, intermittent tinkling like twinkling stars. They had turned his resignation and defeat into a beacon of hope.

Eventually Aoyama seemed to get the message that they wouldn’t let him give up, and the violins faded to accompaniment. The electric guitar’s melody took centre stage and Mineta’s double bass was substituted for his brass in the composition.

Spy or not, traitor or not, Kyoka couldn’t help but be proud. Oh, what wonderful music they made together and oh how she desperately wished she could be part of it.

Fingers tapped twice on her shoulder, gentle but firm, Kyoka came back to herself and turned to meet Kaminari’s concerned face.

“You good?” he signed clumsily. He reached a hand towards her but stopped abruptly. “You’re crying.”

Kyoka blinked and brushed her fingers over her cheek. They came away damp and she looked down at her fingers to find them shiny. She rubbed the back of her gloves under her eyes and across her cheeks to wipe them away properly.

“I’m fine,” Kyoka said aloud. She considered concocting a half-truth about being relieved that everyone had passed but…

She had a feeling that Aoyama had made a decision and that the one thing left stopping her from telling her classmates about the Soundtrack would be gone soon.

“I just thought I heard something beautiful.”

Chapter Text

Aoyama’s new theme pricked the edge of Kyoka’s awareness from among the cacophony as he cautiously approached and lingered at the edge of her sight. She sighed, decided to have mercy on him and approached him herself. In the back of her head she kept track of Shoji who was himself watching her carefully with half of his eyes. The other half seemed to be eyeing the other examinees suspiciously; oh, he was looking for Toga, right. Kyoka did a quick search for the girl herself, finding her walking past Midoriya as she joined the other Shiketsu students. Kyoka pulled the track closer, searching for intent but only found the girl distinctly happy and satisfied. That couldn’t be good.

Aoyama’s smiling mask was plastered on his face but his shoulders were hunched forwards and he was rubbing the tops of his knuckles. His eyes darted back and forth, not searching for something but in an almost paranoid manner. He was slowly drawing in on himself, sparkle dimming.

“You’ve made your decision then?” she asked Aoyama. He startled, apparently not noticing her approach and he clutched at his chest, except that he couldn’t because of his metal breastplate.

“Ah! Yes. yes I have, how did you?”

“Call it a trade secret,” Kyoka smiled playfully. Aoyama finally relaxed somewhat.

“Right. After the exams are over I'll tell Mr Aizawa. Until then, I'll do my best to live up to our classmate’s example.”

Riding high on the Soundtrack from earlier Kyoka reached out uncharacteristically and squeezed his shoulder. Her eyes glimmered and her face was soft and adoring.

“You already do.” Aoyama startled again.

“I thought you were upset with me?”

Kyoka stepped away and shrugged, “I was. Still am. But I can't hate you forever for a choice that wasn’t yours to make.”

Before Aoyama could say anything else, Kyoka had wandered away. It was odd she was right in front of him and he hadn’t even seen her go.

“Shoji,” Kyoka nodded and he nodded tersely in turn. She jerked a thumb in toga’s direction. “She’s over by Shiketsu.”

Some of Shoji’s eyes became ears and Kyoka would have followed suit, sticking a jack into the ground, if she didn’t know he’d report what he heard and there were less people about.

“Which one?”

“The blonde.”

“How do you know she’s Toga?”

“Guess my ear training’s just better than yours.” She wasn’t lying. Kyoka doubted he had any background in musical theory after all. But the eyes that were looking at her narrowed to slits anyway. “Look, I'd tell you if I could, and I promise I will eventually, but I can’t risk them finding out how I know what I know and do what I do. I already got kidnapped over it once.”

Shoji faltered and blessedly backed down. “Mr Aizawa knows?”

“Why is that the first thing everyone asks me?” Kyoka grumbled.

“You don’t exactly have a good record of trusting our teachers,” Shoji pointed out.

“Not that anyone can blame you for it,” Katsuki added in her ear.

“What do we do about her?”

“Right now? Nothing. We do anything now and we cause a panic. Our one advantage is that we know she’s here and she doesn't know that we’re onto her. The heroes can take her down when she’s out of sight.

“Best case scenario is that if we can keep this up and keep track of her we might be able to follow her to the league’s base.”

“That’s optimistic of you.”

“Maybe I'm trying something new.”

“Alright, for the hundred of you who passed the test please turn your attention to the monitor,” the proctor announced. The large screen in the anteroom switched back on.

Round two was about to start.

Chapter Text

“This looks familiar,” Iida said, staring up at the screen cutting between different panning shots of the now decimated arena. Kyoka stood nearby, shoulders drawn tense and hands clenched, her own gaze transfixed. Was this what it looked like from the outside?

“It’s like Kamino Ward,” Midoriya murmured in apprehension. His gaze flickered towards Kyoka and Iida’s soon followed.

She had been so busy trying to survive she didn’t realise the devastation was so big; that a still image could make her feel as small as the pressure All for One’s theme had exerted on her. She could feel the weight of her classmate’s gaze on her along with those of strangers from other schools that recognised her from the news. It made heat curl in her stomach as the Soundtrack crooned and curled around her like a protective dragon.

“Will you be alright?” Koji asked. Kyoka turned to him, that glowing ember becoming a flickering flame in her eyes.

“Yeah, I got this. I got myself out of there once. This should be a piece of cake. It’s just…” her voice turned low and growly as she directed it into her comms. She wanted Mr Aizawa to hear her but Kats could still relay the message if her efforts were in vain. “They could have fucking warned me.”

“If he knew, I'm sure he would have,” Katsuki said simultaneously trying to sooth her and throw a barbed dagger at Mr Aizawa.

“Are you sure?” Kaminari asked hesitantly.

Kyoka’s gruff smile turned vicious.

“Positively,” she chirped. “After all, this kind of exercise was built for me.”

“Yes, your skills are invaluable in any kind of search, precise or general,” Yaomomo nodded.

“It’s true that the situations are similar but then our only goal was to-” Iida stumbled over his words briefly and coughed to regain his composure. “Rescue our classmates from the villains. We let the pros handle search and recovery.”

“And now it’s our turn,” Ojiro said apprehensively.

“Trust me, it doesn’t feel as big when you’re down there,” Kyoka said absently, eyes glued to the monitor. “You’re so focused on what you need to do, to survive, to succeed, that the scale, the loss, the grief and weight you’re expecting gets put in a box until you’re safe enough to unpack it later.”

“Kyoka-”

“That’s-”

“Oh hey! It’s Shiketsu!” Kirishima interjected loudly and obnoxiously. Despite the awkward transition everyone was thankful for the distraction and Kyoka fell silent obligingly.

“Kaminari, Kirishima,” the older student whose body was obscured by hair called as he approached. “I think you met Shishikura during the test?”

Kirishima and Kaminari looked at each other blankly, confused.

“My classmate with the flesh moulding power.”

“Oh!” Kaminari nodded, “yeah, we took him out.”

“I thought so. I’m guessing he may have acted rudely or perhaps offended you. He has a tendency of trying to push his own values onto others.”

“I didn’t care about what he said about me. It wasn’t anything I hadn't heard before," Kaminari shrugged. Then he narrowed his eyes at them, voice hard. “But insulting my friends isn’t something I'll stand for. Especially when they aren’t around to defend themselves.”

“Still. I apologise for him. I’d like to build a good relationship between our schools.”

“That’s uh, not really up to us,” Kirishima replied looking at Iida and Yaomomo. Kaminari meanwhile eyes Inasa before his eyes darted over to Kyoka.

“Hey, you with the collar,” Todoroki called, addressing Inasa. His voice wavered uncharacteristically with an apologetic uncertainty buried within his steady tone. “Did I offend you somehow?”

Inasa froze, the track becoming a sinister brass that quelled the themes in the area as his shadowed eyes looked down at Todoroki, gaze brutally piercing.

“Oh no, I'm sorry, did I hurt your feelings?” Inasa said dismissively, venom more than sarcasm chilling his words. Kyoka’s burning determination turned to ice cold malice in an instant as she heard Inasa’s words dent and break Todoroki’s theme. “Well the thing is son of Endeavor, I just can’t help but hate both of you.”

Static filled the Soundtrack’s place in Kyoka's mind.

She honed in on Inasa and slowly stalked forwards to get between him and Todoroki. After everything he’d been through this wasn’t something she’d stand for. Kyoka punctuated this unfamiliar feeling by searching her memory for some echo of some song to communicate, to understand what she was hearing.

She knew it wouldn’t do anything tangible but it would make her feel more satisfied when her demeanour was so cold that it burned. All for One’s oppressive choir twisted around her like a blizzard, a phantom of Stain’s haunting glockenspiels were the blinding flares that punctuated each step she took. There was an agonisingly slow buzzing in Kyoka’s throat that she would have likened to the quacking of a rattlesnake if she was cognizant of it to hear it.

“Oh no,” Kaminari muttered, his voice muffled by the static that was filling her head and narrowing her perception to just the eye of this storm in front of her.

“Todoroki,” Midoriya murmured sadly.

She didn’t notice how Yaoyorozu reached out but something made her flinch away.

She didn’t notice Iida consider intervening but stopping himself.

Nor how Kirishima inched himself and Kaminari away.

Even Todoroki, socially inept dope that he was, caught on when he spared Kyoka a glance when she got close enough to stand beside him. He subtly shifted his foot to block her way and Kyoka stalled at the contact.

But Inasa continued on obliviously.

“You’ve changed a little bit since our paths crossed but you definitely still have your fathers eyes.”

She didn’t hear Katsuki call her name when she stepped over and around Todoroki.

“Don’t you dare speak about something you couldn’t hope to understand.” Kyoka spoke softly, her tone like ice. It echoed loudly in the Soundtrack’s absence. “Shoto is nothing like his father. He cares.

“He may not show it like we do but we know. It’s why he goes off alone; because he’s afraid he’ll hut us. Absolute faith in us but none in himself, the moron.

“If anyone’s like Endeavor it’s you and your complete, oblivious disregard for anyone but yourself.”

“You can’t-”

“I know that you’ve hurt me and my classmates enough Inasa!'' Kyoka interrupted. Inasa flinched back, surprised at her volume and the way her voice became high and strained. Her righteous fury had ebbed away to reveal her distress. The echoes of song slipped from her grasp and the static in her head went with it. The Soundtrack remained ‘absent’ but only in that it had diminished itself; perhaps even whatever it was had shied away in fear.

“Is everything alright Yoarashi?” the student covered in hair asked. There was pressure on her right and she knew that if it wasn’t for her flame retardant jacket she’d feel a degree of heat. Yaomomo bracketed her other side.

“While we appreciate your rapport, I believe it would be best for our classes to keep out of each others’ ways for the duration of the exam,” she said diplomatically, “we’re distressed and on edge enough as it is you see.”

“Right, of course. Come along Yoarashi.”

“Thank you,” Todoroki said. His voice sounded monotone, cold, but it was sincere. He gave her a polite nod, uncertain what to do, before quickly letting her go as if he’d just remembered he had grabbed on. She knew she hadn’t fixed everything but his theme was a little more put together than it was just moments prior.

“Ah, don’t let anything he said get to you Todoroki,'' Kyoka shrugged, face flushing. She hadn't meant to get so heated but man was that guy a dick. The attention wasn’t doing her any favours either.

“Shoto is fine,” Todoroki said, hand over heart like he was evoking a princely bow. Kyoka blinked, surprised, but felt the tension in her body slump and soften.

“Sure, right back at you,” she offered with a smile. Damn she liked this class of idiots too much, at least she could blame the trauma bonding.

“Why would I call you Shoto?” Todoroki asked in that same innocent tone. Kyoka whipped around to correct him only to see the small teasing smile on his face. Kyoka resisted the urge to punch him and snorted.

“Dork.”

“Be that as it may, we still have an exam to prepare for you two,” Yaomomo reminded them gently.

“Right,” Kyoka nodded. She turned her attention to her classmates. “Princess? How many earpiece radios can you make for us?”

Iida and Yaomomo gathered their classmates into a huddle as they passed out the radios to each student. Kyoka, Kaminari and Koji took a moment to show the others how to connect them up and tune them to the frequency that Kyoka, Katsuki and Koji had been using for the duration of the exam.

“We need to work together but we can’t stick together,” Kyoka explained, “rescue is all about resource management to maximise the speed and efficiency of the operation and that requires an effective division of labour.

“That’s where these earpieces come in, allowing us to coordinate at a distance and direct each other to fill in empty spaces.”

“The first thing we need to focus on is the search,” Iida said.

“Right, which is why myself, Hydra and Anima should be stationed as far away from each other as possible. We’re the best scouts and we need to be able to cover as much ground as possible without too much overlap.

“But if we’re too focused on finding victims and bystanders we won’t have the capacity to manage dispatch as well. And frankly I'm probably not very good at dispatch anyway.”

“Dispatch?” Yaomomo asked. “I know the term but it’s not something we discussed in class in regards to rescue.”

“I think it’s a reference to first responders, the call centres are called Dispatch, right?” Kaminari pointed out.

“Right, dispatch decides who goes where and when based on availability, area of expertise and location. In our case they’d need to be someone who understands what we’re all capable of.

“That’s why I volunteer Creati, Ingenium, Deku and Bakugo as tribute.”

“Um, Snitch? Bakugo isn’t here,'' Tokoyami said.

“Sup nerds, miss me?” You could hear Katsuki grin across the comm channel.

“Is… is this not cheating,” Iida asked, voice pitched and strained.

“Probably, but Mr Aizawa isn't calling us on it and they did say to use all the resources available to us,” Kyoka shrugged with a sly grin. “Besides, if they don’t know, they can’t penalise us for it.”

“But-”

“Are villains going to play fair?”

“...No?”

“Then why should we?”

Iida looked around at their other classmates hopping for support but was only met with silence.

“Oh, very well.”

“Anyway. We should split up into 3 larger groups centred around a dispatch, scout pair.”

“But we have 3 scouts and 4 dispatchers?” -

“I’ll just sub in for whichever dispatcher is busy doing a rescue,” Katsuki pointed out, “that way I’m not too involved.”

Hydra would work with Ingenium and Anima would work with Deku. Both would need speed and mobility to make up for their smaller range. That would leave Snitch with Creati. With her larger range Snitch could handle both the city and industrial districts on her own. Anima would take the woodland district all the way down to the stream because that area would probably have the most animals. Meanwhile Hydra would take the mountain district for the superior height range to make use of both his eyes and ears.

From there Snitch left splitting up the class to the dispatchers which was a lot easier to do now that it was based off of area of operation. They decided that Uravity, Cellophane and Sugarman would come to the industrial and city districts with her and Creati because their quirks were best suited for stabilising buildings and lifting debris. Hydra and Ingenium took Grape Juice, Lumiere, Chargebolt and Red Riot while Anima and Deku took Froppy Tsukuyomi, Queen, Iron Tail and Invisible Girl.

“Put Shoto in Anima’s group,” Snitch suggested when they’d assigned Todoroki to her group. It was the only change she’d made to their assignments. While his ability to create new supports and traverse large distances quickly would pair well with her longer range, Snitch would rather have Shoto on the outskirts of the arena than in the dead centre. Really he could have gone with Anima or Hydra but the Soundtrack was nudging her to put him there in the zone closer to the ante-room than on the far side of the arena and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“Wouldn’t it be best to separate our heavy hitters?” Ingenium argued.

“It would be, if I was planning on keeping Shoto or Deku there long. Bakugo is Anima’s real dispatcher, Deku's the sub.”

“What, why?”

“Remember how I said I could hear Gang Orca somewhere in the building when we arrived? Well he still hasn’t shown up yet.”

“He could just be here to observe!” Ingenium argued, ever the optimist.

“But it would be logical that the examiners would want to test how well we react to unexpected surprises,” Creati countered, ever the pragmatist.

“No plan survives first contact with the enemy, flexibility and adaptability are key,” Snitch nodded sagely. “Which is why I'm expecting us to run into some villainous interference, a la Kamino ward.”

“So you want me and Todoroki together because we’re the best to stall Gang Orca?” Deku realised.

“Pretty much.”

“Is it really ‘expecting the unexpected’ if what you're expecting is Murphy's law?” Chargebolt muttered.

“Remember, we should also assist other students from other classes if we can,” Creati added, “and we should not be afraid to petition their assistance if we believe that their skills are better suited for the task at hand.”

“Right!”

Chapter Text

The Soundtrack played Gang Orca’s theme loudest above the din of themes Snitch was combing through. She extracted her jacks from the concrete below her and took a step back.

“Deku, Shoto, where are you?” she asked hurriedly as she plugged into her boots to get an echo map to overlay the Soundtrack’s dynamic distances on to.

“Oh, um. The first aid station,” Deku yelped surprised as he stumbled over his words.

“The river,” Todoroki reported.

“Gang Ocra should be behind the arena wall around ten metres clockwise from the first aid station, alert the other heroes and begin evacuation. Shoto-” Snitch plugged back into the rubble as the Soundtrack quieted, satisfied at her interference.

“Changing course now. E.T.A three minutes.”

“Uravity, Cellophane, you’ve got a kid in distress on your left in a small alcove around two metres down. You’ll find the entrance four metres over by a bent stop sign,” Snitch called.

“On it!” Cellophane chirped.

“Sugarman, move that pillar four degrees to the left before that slab splinters down the middle and drops on your head.

“Creati, stop that student on your six from moving that victim. Their back foot is still held down by some rebar.”

“Of course.”

“Sorry!”

Moments later the ground rumbled and a massive explosion rang out across the arena.

“Terrorists have appeared and are beginning to sweep the area. Hero candidates at the scene should continue their rescue efforts while also suppressing the newly arrived villains,” the proctor announced.

“It’s just as you said Snitch, what should we do now?”

“Anima, your lot is closest. How’s it looking?” Katuski barked.

“My animals haven’t reported any more bystanders nearby that aren’t being accompanied by a hero.”

“Deku, how are evacuation efforts?” Snitch called.

“Slow, we’re underhanded and the time your warning gave us didn’t matter much when no one believed me.” That was to be expected.

“Queen, Tsukuyomi, you’ve got the best mobility. Iron Tail, hand your last bystander off to Froppy or Invisible Girl when you see them and go back them up. You might need a close range fighter," Katuski ordered.

“Froppy, follow them once Anima gives you the all clear,” Creati advised, “everyone else should rendezvous at another disaster area or the first aid station.”

“On it.”

“Roger.”

“Hydra, Ingenium?”

“Everyone who was trapped has been evacuated. Right now our major hold ups are the injured who could not be moved quickly or the bystanders being transported by those without speed quirks. The rough terrain is making travel slow despite the open area.”

“And we can’t spare Cellophane right now,” Creati sighed, “I’m running low on lipids and his ability to create makeshift stretchers for stable transport is invaluable.”

“There are still a few people who haven’t been accounted for,” Snitch added, she caught the attention of a nearby examinee and pointed out a nearby car for them to check knowing that there was a victim locked inside. “They might be in one of the gaps between our designated areas so I'm repositioning to check it out now.”

“Hydra, Snitch,” Katsuki called, “Mr Aizawa wants an update on his special target.”

“I have nothing.”

Snitch launched herself off of a piece of broken pipe and slid down the slope of gravel and concrete on the other side. Despite the abuse she put it through her jacket was holding up well. Took a break as she picked herself back up to seek out Toga in the Soundtrack.

“Not on the field. Might have run off in the chaos. Maybe check with the guys in the stands?”

A brief glance around the area revealed nothing so Snitch kept moving.

“This is Iron Tail, we’ve made contact with Deku and Gang Orca. He just destroyed one of Todoroki's attacks with a sonic wave. Snitch?”

“Busy. I'm too far away and can’t transmit my quirk through your earpieces but I could counter it if I was on site.” She plugged a jack into the ground. Clear here too, there was no one trapped at least. Since the H.U.C members weren't actually injured she couldn’t tell the difference between the other examinees and them through vibrations or the state of their themes. “Uravity that pipe goes deeper than you think it does, have someone cut it before you use your quirk on it.”

Before Snitch could move on she felt something tug at the bottom of her jacket. She whipped around to find an older woman standing behind her. Her mouth was moving but between the Soundtrack, her noise cancelling and her class’s open comms Snitch couldn’t hear a thing. Snitch did a quick overview of the woman while she waited for an opportunity to interrupt. She was a little dirty but there were no obvious lumps or abrasions. Her clothes were tattered but they looked like the fabric had rubbed away rather than being cut or pierced. Snitch also got the distinct feeling that she was being berated.

The woman paused for breath and Snitch raised a hand to stop her before turning her attention to her classmates.

“Guys I’ve got an uninjured civilian here who wants my attention and there’s no one else nearby, gonna have to go radio silent for a bit to speak with them. Kats, Creati, can you cover my section?”

“Of course, we’ll see you at the first aid area,” Creati said. Snitch deafened and turned her noise cancelling off as she lowered her hand and addressed the woman properly with her best customer service impression.

“I’m sorry for that ma'am. I'm afraid I couldn't hear you. I was busy assisting my classmates. Is there anything I can do to assist you?” Snitch asked with a polite smile. The woman looked distinctly guilty now.

“You couldn’t hear me Miss Hero?”

“My quick has a sensory component,'' Snitch explained. “Sensory overload is a common issue so I have noise cancelling headphones as a disability accommodation. They help me focus on what my teammates are saying. How may I help you?”

“Oh, um. I was separated from my family when the attack happened and was too scared to leave my hiding place, can you please help me find them!” she wailed, getting back into character.

“I’m sure they’re alright. If you’ll come with me we can see if any of my colleagues have seen them and if you can provide me with a description I can pass it on so that they can keep an eye out,” Snitch grinned, holding out a hand for the woman to take.

“Thank you!”

Snitch had rejoined some of her classmates at the new evacuation point, having successfully evacuated the first closer to where Deku and the others were headed to fight Gang Orca and his sidekicks. She was busy ferrying resources between students that were administering first aid while sticking to the outskirts of the area, ready to turn and release a defensive wave of sound if Gang Orca or any of his allies turned their projectiles or ultrasonic waves their way. After a minute of no one calling for her she turned her comm and noise-cancelling back on.

“Dammit, what are you two doing!” Deku's cry echoed into the comms.

“What’s going on?” Snitch asked tersely.

“The Icyhot bastard and the loudass Shiketsu dickhead nearly fried the two-faced Ketsubutsu prick!'' Katsuki growled. Snitch was gone for five minutes. Snitch made sure she wasn’t in earshot of any of the bystander actors or other examinees.

“I was gone for five minutes!” she could see some of her nearby classmates flinch at how loud she was. “What the fuck did he say! I just wanna talk.”

“I’m sorry, it was my fault,” Shoto said, but the Soundtrack knew better. Inasa’s theme had been layered with Endeavor’s. Shotos’ theme had been thrown into that long forgotten manic panic from all the way back at the sports festival. Snitch clicked her tongue, if now was anything like back then Shoto could very well be slipping into a panic attack.

“I’m switching to a private channel,” she announced, already thumbing her controller to drag Shoto’s comm with her. “Shoto, I need you to listen to me very carefully.

“Whatever issues Inasa has with you or your father are not your fault. And whatever you’re feeling right now is justified. Hate will not corrupt you, it will not kill you, you are right to hate your father. But the guilt? The unwarranted blame you place on yourself for daring to feel those things? That will.

“Inasa doesn’t get to tell you what you should or shouldn’t feel. So I need you to do one thing for me, Shoto.” Snitch tried to channel the energy of Katsuki's theme, the passion of Midoriya's and the relief in Shoto's own healed theme into her words. She tried to offer their inspiration and comfort and a reminder of how far she’d come in the only form she’d experienced it. “Let his wind feed your fire.”

Even from this far away she could see a red blaze bloom and rise on the horizon. Snitch grinned.

“Good luck.”

The exam would end a few minutes later.

After the results were revealed they were each handed a form detailing how many points they had in the rescue portion and why they lost the points that they did. Kyoka was more than satisfied with passing and chose not to pay the form much mind until later. She’d rather celebrate the accomplishments of classmates and man did they all do pretty great.

She was upset that Shoto hadn’t passed, but endangering another student was a valid thing to lose points for, and he didn’t want to challenge it so Kyoka wouldn’t push either. Besides, he could still take remedial classes, just like Katsuki would.

When they got out of the arena, rejoining Mr Aizawa and Katsuki by the buses, the sun was setting. Katsuki came up beside her and plucked her test from her hands. The only reason she hadn’t put it away with the rest of her stuff and another reason she hadn’t looked at it yet.

“So what happened with the ‘special target’?” Kyoka asked as they walked.

“Nothing, she slipped away and the Shiketsu Shitheads were no help. Not surprising considering they didn’t even notice their friend had been replaced.”

Katsuki scowled at the sheet, crinkling its edges.

“What?” she asked when he turned his gaze on her.

“Yo, Ponytail, how many points did you get?”

“Uh, ninety-four?”

Katsuki shoved the sheet of paper back into Kyoka’s hands.

“Ninety-five. And at least two of those were lost because of fucking bullshit,” he anounced. Kyoka scrambled to smooth over the paper and read it herself.

Katsuki was right, ninety-five points. She’d lost a few points for standing around at the evacuation centre, sure. But it was the other item on the list that had captured Katsuki's attention. The rest of the points she’d lost earlier for ‘ignoring’ or ‘being unaware’ of a civilian calling for her. Which made sense from an outside perspective and also made sense if there was no way to regain points during the exam. She crushed the paper into a ball and stuffed it into the inner pocket of her blazer.

“What’s wrong?” Ashido asked.

“I lost points because of my disability,” Kyoka said simply. It sucked, but it’s not like she wasn’t expecting it.

“They can’t do that can they?” Kaminari asked incredulously.

“Wait, you're disabled?” Mineta muttered loud enough for only her and Shoji to hear.

“They marked me down for ‘not responding to a victim asking for my attention’ even though I wear my noise cancelling headphones as an accommodation for overstimulation.”

“Why would they do that?” Tokoyami queried.

“Because society is fucked,” Katsuki deadpanned, Koji nodded his head sadly nearby.

“I’m sure if we explained the situation they would-” Iida started.

“Guys, it’s fine, I passed. I don’t need to pass better," Kyoka shrugged. She stretched her arms out above her head and threw them a pained smile before she led the way back to the bus.

Chapter Text

The moon was high in the sky and everyone was relaxing in the common room to calm down from the stress of the exam. Katsuki was considering heading up to his room and turning in for the night when he spotted Deku make his way towards him. His friends intercepted him but Katsuki recognised the look in the nerd’s eye. He wouldn’t be letting this go. Well, like they always say, don’t put off for tomorrow what could be done today.

Katsuki steeled himself and silently walked up behind Round Cheeks and Glasses. It wasn’t like Katsuki didn’t have something he wanted to talk with Deku about anyway. He raised his hands so that Deku could see them.

“Meet me outside. We need to talk about your quirk.”

Katsuki turned and walked away without checking if Deku understood or not. He didn’t need to check. Katsuki knew how much of a stalker the other boy was. He knew that Deku would have been expecting Katsuki to lose his hearing long before Katsuki ever started going deaf. He knew how ‘considerate’ the other was and he would be a fool to not think Deku would have long ago picked up sign ‘for Kachan’. It unnerved Katsuki to think of how obsessed the nerd was with him sometimes.

Or maybe that was the churning in his gut at having lied in sign for the first time. It made him feel like a kid all over again.

Katsuki walked away, slipping from the building and out to the front porch with no one the wiser. Everyone, Kyoka and Koji included, would just assume he went to bed early.

He doesn’t know how long he waited for Deku to come out, but eventually the door clicked open followed by footsteps. They were heavier, angrier than Katsuki expected them to be but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to.

Katsuki started walking away. Deku would follow him, like he always would. Except that wasn’t so true anymore, was it?

He counted the steps as they walked, both for something to do and to keep track of Kyoka and Shoji’s hearing ranges

“Kachan, how far are we going?” Deku asked. “We shouldn’t be walking around in the middle of the night.

“Hello?”

“Unless you want Ears to hear everything we fucking say shut the fuck up and keep walking.”

Eventually they came to a stop in front of a familiar building from what felt like a lifetime ago. The place where everything started and everything began to change.

“You brought us to Ground Beta?”

They were outside of the range Earphone Jacks and definitely outside of Shoji’s range but Katsuki hoped that they were still inside the range of the Soundtrack. They stood there in silence, Deku was too nervous at first to begin the conversation and Katsuki had nothing to say.

But-

“What’s been going on with you Kachan? I’m really worried about you.”

Katsuki looked past the building to the sky up above.

“I know you can hear me.”

He must be facing north because Polaris was there staring down at him. The new moon should be somewhere off to his right.

“You won’t talk to me… of course you won’t. It’s like you don’t even see me.”

A green light flickered in the corner of Katsuki's eyes. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and a shiver ran down his spine.

“Then I'll have to make you see me.”

Katsuki let an explosion from his right hand rocket him to the left when he heard Deku leap towards him.

“What the fuck Deku!” Katsuki spat.

They turned to face each other. And maybe there was a time where they both knew exactly what the other was thinking. But that was a long time ago and now they were looking at two very different people than the boys they once knew. Only one of them seemed to realise how much they’d both changed though.

Deku wasn’t doggedly following Katsuki's heels anymore. Instead he was confidently striding ahead of Katsuki down a path all his own leaving Katsuki in his wake. Once, that would have pissed Katsuki off, once he would have started this fight. Now, he was content to take things a little slower, especially if it meant being the best version of himself that he could be.

Don’t get him wrong, he still wanted to be like All Might. Kamino hadn’t changed that and neither could Deku. But he was beginning to learn that being himself would be -was- pretty great too.

“Is this what you want Kachan? A fight!”

In the space between two blinks Deku was on him again, pivoting into a tornado kick aimed at the left side of his head. Katsuki caught his calf and pushed it away without an explosion for extra oomph. Deku leaned into the turn, planting his right leg and raising the left into a back kick. Katsuki used a small explosion to throw himself back and out of the way. As much as he didn’t want to do this, Katsuki knew he couldn’t outrun Deku. But he also knew that he didn't have to do this for long.

Kyoka jerked awake from her light dozing when the Soundtrack blared a very dramatic sting that was building tension for what seemed like a fight. Whether that fight would be emotional or physical Kyoka couldn’t tell, but considering it was coming from somewhere out at a campus training ground after curfew she could make a pretty good guess. It didn’t sound sinister so Kyoka figured the panic button that Mr Aizawa had given her would be unnecessary.

She pulled herself out of bed as she pawed blindly for her phone to call Mr Aizawa. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, not even pausing when the track finally evolved into a full blown fight theme. Now that she had something more evolved she had a better chance to pick out who was involved and why. But Kyoka was a bit too tired for all of that so as her phone rang she only bothered to clock the familiar drums and brass. Kyoka groaned, punching the bridge of her nose. Those two, when something happened why was it always those two? Though Mr Aizawa would probably say the same thing about her.

“Jiro, what do you want? You do know it’s past curfew, right?” Speak of the devil. Though he was trying to make it seem like he had just been woken up, Kyoka knew better. From the sounds of it he hadn’t gone to sleep yet, but like usual he always sounded like he needed it.

“Heads up sir, Kats and Midoriya are fighting each other… somewhere on campus?”

“Can you pinpoint them?”

“Urgh,'' Kyoka groaned as she threw something loose over her pyjamas and slipped a pair of boots on.

“Alright,” Mr Aizawa sighed. “Just stay put and go back to bed. I’ll use the security system to track them down.”

Yeah right. The line clicked off and Kyoka tossed her phone back onto her bed. Then she went looking for the emergency first aid kit Kyoka knows Recovery Girl mandated be available in every dorm before she slipped into a pair of boots. Like hell was she going to sit back.

Deku kept flying after Katsuki.

“Why haven’t you talked to anyone about Kamino ward?” Deku demanded from above. He moved to drive his heel into the top of Katsuki's head with an axe kick to send him crashing back down to the ground. Katsuki caught the foot with his forearms, minimising the force but letting himself crash and fall, leaving a small crater in the asphalt.

“There’s nothing to talk about!” Katsuki spat. He batted the raised leg to his left. It left Deku off balance and forced the other boy to pivot. When his back was turned, Katsuki kicked Deku's ass with the flat of his foot, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“But there is, I know you’re thinking it Kachan,” the fucker said, turning around to face him. He was getting real fucking annoyed with Deku's presumptuous bullshit. “That if you had been stronger, if you hadn’t been kidnapped, then it wouldn’t have happened.”

Katuski scoffed, rolling the cricks out of his shoulders. “The only person who thinks that is my old hag and when have I ever listened to her?”

Deku picked himself up and clutched a hand emphatically over his heart. “But I understand. I’m the only person in the world who could understand? Because All Might didn’t fall because of you, he fell because of me!”

Katsuki paused and clenched his fists to refrain from attacking the nerd. He grit his teeth. Deku had a habit of being a martyr. But even this much self-blame would be ridiculous for him and he took All Might’s final battle way too personally; even if he was a crybaby. That meant.

“You’re talking about your quirk, aren’t you.'' Deku startled and turned away from Katsuki, suddenly too afraid to meet his eyes. “The one All Might gave to you.”

“And what if it’s true? Does she know too?” He slowly shifted back into his fighting stance, the curls of his hair falling to shadow his eyes. Katsuki‘s own body shifted in anticipation.

“Ears? What does she have to do with this?” He’d use a smokescreen-

“Everything!” - fuck it. Deku shot forward again and Katsuki slipped inside his guard, hand rushing to meet Deku’s face. Deku tried to lean back from the grab, but with his momentum and Katsuki forgoing the grab for a fucking explosion that sent him flying, the attempt was futile.

Deku crashed into the railing that bracketed the road, leaving a deep dent in it. He must have expected Katsuki to follow up because he flipped over it, using the metal bars as a shield. The glow of his lightning grew stronger, his eyes went a toxic neon green. Within one blink and the next, Deku was back in Katsuki's face with a running drop kick. Katsuki didn’t have time to dodge or guard so he took the blow to the chest and fell with it. He used an explosion to transition into a backward roll to put himself in a crouching position only to have Deku on him again ready to drop an axe kick on him.

Katsuki flipped backwards, using an explosion to send him into the air. Deku took the distance to re-evaluate and catch his breath.

“Where have you been the last three days?” He shouted, jumping up to meet Katsuki as he began to fall. Katsuki braced for a kick but was met with a punch to the eye through his open guard. Should have gone for the uppercut instead of the hook; Deku had a shitty hook. Deku maye have known that Katsuki always started a fight with a right hook but it was almost funny how he never questioned why an offensive fighter would open with a defensive punch.

Katsuki put his hand on Deku's punching forearm, just above the elbow and pushed it into the swing so that his shoulder pressed against his neck. Then he brought his knees up to kick Deku in the chest, giving him more space. Katsuki landed on his back, Deku slid across the tarmac but landed on his feet.

“Why didn’t you take the provisional licensing exam?” Deku demanded. Katsuki groaned as he caught his breath, carefully bringing a hand up to poke his developing black eye.

“That’s none of your business,” Katuski hissed, finally sitting up. “Why does it even matter to you?”

“Because you’re my friend!” Deku cried. He jumped into the air to stomp down on Katsuki but he just rolled out of the way and slipped onto his feet.

“We’re not friends!” Katsuki argued. “We haven’t been friends in a long fucking time!”

Deku reached out to grab Katsuki. He countered it with a grab of his own, sweeping the nerd and pinning him to the ground. He leaned down to Deku's ear.

“Don’t you get it Izuku, I don't need you anymore.”

Deku’s body lit up again as he struggled under Katsuki. Katsuki immediately dropped his hold on the other boy and created as much distance between them as possible. Deku ran at him again, only for the lightning to go out as familiar bandages flew out to restrain him.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” Mr Aizawa drawled sternly, his hair raised and eyes glowing red. Katsuki narrowed his eyes as Deku dropped like a puppet with his strings cut.

“What are you doing here?” Katsuki huffed.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t notice you two tearing up a training facility in the middle of the night?” Mr Aizawa deadpanned.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow at his teacher. Considering the size of the campus, he doubted it.

“Of course not. Jiro called. I’m just surprised I found you before she got here," Mr Aizawa sighed.

“You didn’t actually,” Ears called, slipping out of a nearby alley.

“Of course,” Mr Aizawa scowled, but he was obviously resigned.

Kyoka came up to Katsuki and passed him a cold pack from the med kit she was carrying for his black eye. Then she took out a wet wipe and a bottle of disinfectant for his other cuts and scrapes. Mr Aizawa let Deku go and took the med kit from Kyoka to treat his injuries as well.

“How much did you hear?” Katsuki asked her quietly as she worked.

“Nothing I didn't already know,” she assured him. Like that meant anything but he’d take it for now.

“If you think this means I'll be letting you off easy, think again,” Mr Aizawa said. “I’m putting both of you on a three-day house arrest. During that time you’ll clean the common areas. Once at the beginning of the day and then again at the end of it. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Katsuki and Deku chorused.

“I think you mean a three day suspension,” Kyoka corrected, rolling her eyes. She had started wrapping and covering his deeper wounds with bandages and plasters. Katsuki thought it was overkill but the disinfectant made the papercut-like scrapes sting annoyingly in the open air so he was glad for the pressure.

“Jiro,” Mr Aizawa continued tersely but with a glint to his eye now.

“Yes sir?” Ears flinched, suddenly nervous.

“You’ll be joining me after school for some extra training,” the teacher smirked. Kyoka relaxed just as quickly, which probably meant it wasn’t as bad as Mr Aizawa was making it out to be or that she knew what to expect.

“Yes sir,” she agreed readily, packing the first aid material away.

“Hmm. Don’t do this again.”

Chapter Text

“What?” Ashido cried, “you guys threw down and we missed it?”

The class had come down after getting ready for school and decided to use their precious breakfast time being nosy. Katsuki scowled at her but refused to rise to the bait and returned aggressively to his cleaning. Why Deku felt the need to tell the fuckers anything the blonde will never understand.

“It wasn’t much of a fight,” Kyoka corrected; the traitor, “but that’s the gist of it yeah.”

“Wait, you were there?” Shoto asked as he walked by, already determined and ready to head out.

“Who do you think snitched on them?” Kyoka snorted, dodging past Katsuki to grab some breakfast from the kitchen. She, like many, had chosen to wake up later now that transit time between ‘home’ and school was almost non-existent. Shoto nodded, satisfied, and left.

“With how aggressive Bakugo is it makes sense he’d start a fight outside of class,” Uraraka said derisively. Katsuki growled slowly but Kyoka conveniently reappeared within his field of vision, a piece of toast in hand slathered with grape jam.

“Actually, I sort of threw the first punch,” Deku corrected her, rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly. Uraraka startled, taken aback, but quickly composed herself again.

“Well, good job standing up for yourself Deku!” she exclaimed with a determined grin.

“Double standards much,” Katsuki muttered snidely into his shoulder. His gaze was locked on the floor he was mopping. Oh no Kyoka seemed to have wandered off again.

“What was that?” Uraraka challenged, eyes burning as she drilled a hole in the side of his head. Katsuki raised his head undaunted to stare back at her.

“I said: double standard much, Gravity Witch?” Katsuki replied, voice louder, more confident and filled with venom. He glared at the girl until she huffed and turned away, unwilling to be the first to fold even when Kyoka wandered back into the common room, a mug of tea or coffee in her hands. Once Uraraka turned away, Katsuki quickly returned to his work.

“Be that as it may,” Iida declared, arms waving stiffly, “you’re both lucky that you two only got house arrest.”

Katsuki didn’t know why he was still here since the overachieving stickler always wanted to arrive to class earlier than early.

“Yeah, I have to spend my after school hours with Mr Aizawa,” Kyoka interjected, taking the attention off of Deku and him and pulling it to her instead. Katsuki was beginning to notice that she did that a lot. Her mug had disappeared, had she chugged it?

“Wanna trade?” Katsuki snorted in jest.

“Please,” Kyoka begged equally as light. “But I'm pretty sure that would only piss him off more.”

“Why were you punished?” Sato asked after carefully taking a bite from his croissant over a plate that was nestled in the well of his hand. While Katsuki didn’t like that he was eating something crumbly on the couch, he could appreciate Sato trying to minimise the mess.

He was still going to vacuum the couch later though.

“I snuck out with a first aid kit to find them after Mr Aizawa specifically told me to stay put,” Kyoka shrugged.

“Why would you do that?” Sato's brow furrowed as she stood to return his dish to the kitchen.

“Remember what happened the first time the two of them got into a fight?”

Everyone winced. Yeah, how could anyone forget that? Even Katsuki could admit it was more attempted murder than aggressive rivalry.

“Touché,” Sato acquiesced as he slipped into the kitchen, Kyoka took the lull in conversation as her cue to escape any lecture Iida could turn around onto her. She left the dorm building ahead of him and Uraraka caught up to Shoji and Tokoyami by the door. That was going to make this easier.

He watched the clock as he worked counting out how long it would take the three of them to reach the main building as the rest of their classmates filtered out. He waited a few minutes even after that to make certain he and Deku were alone and that Kyoka and Shoji would be sufficiently distracted before setting aside his work momentarily and tracking down the other boy.

He found Deku doing a deep clean of the kitchen’s counters. He leaned against the wall at the entryway, just watching for a moment.

“So. Who else knows about you and All Might?” Katsuki asked. Deku startled, dropping what he was doing and staring at him like an anxious baby goat. Katsuki raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ah, I don't think so.”

Katsuki sighed, “it’s your quirk isn’t it Deku?”

Deku stumbled to affirm his question but Katsuki didn’t fucking care.

“Then you don’t need his permission to tell anyone shit,” Katsuki snapped. Why Deku thought telling Katsuki about his super secret, super important superpower over his actual fucking friends the blonde would never understand.

“R-right!” Deku yelped. “Um. as far as I know it’s R-Recovery Girl and the Principal. At school at least.”

“Fine, then your secret’s safe with me.” A part of him really wanted to tell Mr Aizawa but at least someone more responsible and forward thinking than All Might was aware of what was going on. “I won’t tell anyone what’s going on.”

Deku looked at them with all that disgusting awe and hope. That admiration that unsettled Katsuki by putting himself on a pedestal that he didn’t think he deserved. Volunteering had been a good start.

“Then I should probably tell you the rest of it, huh?” Deku grinned brightly. No, no. He was drawing the line in the sand right there. If Deku wanted a comrade to seriously discuss the intricacies of his quirk with he could find it in someone else.

“Save it Deku. The less I know the better.” Katsuki turned his back on the other boy and walked away, pointedly taking his hearing aids out and putting them away. “I’ll keep your secret but I want nothing to do with it.”

A voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Koji scolded him for walking away. It reminded him that they needed to sit down and have a real talk about their relationship, boundaries and where they stood with each other. You know, be communicative and vulnerable? Katsuki groaned internally, knowing that the voice was right even as he whined that he’d done enough already. The memory of Koji's disappointed expression flashed into his mind. Great, his conscience was trying to guilt trip himself, maybe he’d been around Beetle, Snitch and Zombozo too long… that was a lie. Fine, fine. He’d talk to the fucking nerd again, for real this time… Just after he did this.

Katsuki stalked into the common area where Deku was still cleaning, standing with crossed arms where he was blocking the only exit.

“Alright, sit down nerd,” Katsuki announced, gesturing toward one of the seats.

“What?” Izuku looked up at him, hopeful and distraught at the same time. Katsuki sighed.

“Sit. down. Nerd,” he repeated, shoving Midroya at the couch gently. “We need to talk.”

Midoriya opened his mouth to say something even as he hesitantly did as instructed. Katsuki raised a hand quickly to silence him, the way the nerd flinched at his sharp movement made his stomach churn.

“No, shut up. You wanted me to talk, fine. But you’re going to sit there quietly like a good boy and listen.”

Midoriya nodded frantically. Katsuki nodded, satisfied and took a seat on the far end of the couch, shifting so he could face Midoriya.

“I need you to understand that we aren’t friends… and I don't think we ever were.”

Midoriya tried to object and again Katsuki raised his hand.

“No, shut up.

“I stopped seeing you as my friend a long time ago. And yeah, that was me being an asshole. But I have treated you like shit our entire lives, before and after getting my quirk and your quirkless diagnoses. Kids can be mean and shitty because we haven’t learnt basic fucking empathy or compassion but I still went too far. That wasn’t pulling pigtails, that was wrong.”

Katsuki paused to gauge Midoriya’s reaction. He took in the heavy set of the other boy’s brow and the way his shoulder had drawn up in an aggressive and defensive manner. Midoriya clearly disagreed and was about to object.

“I’m not done,” Katsuki continued with a groan. “Because I know you. And I don't know if you’re just like this with me or with every motherfucker but you’re way too forgiving for your own good.”

Katsuki closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he carefully considered how to phrase what he needed to say next. Even with all of that cleaning time he had to prepare he still didn’t feel ready. Belatedly he cringed at how much his next words reminded him of a lover’s spat.

“Whatever we have now, whatever relationship you <>think<> we had, it isn’t healthy. Not just because of what I did to you, but because I'm not a good person when I'm with you. I don’t know if I can be, not yet anyway.”

“But you are with her?” Midoriya said slowly, challenging him disbelievingly. Katuski laughed humorlessly.

“Them actually, as in more than one?” he smiled ruefully at Midoriya’s shocked and startled expression. He didn’t know what was worse, that Midoriya didn’t think he had more than one friend or that he didn’t think Katsuki would admit he had friends. Maybe it was the naked pride he knew he was showing. But Katsuki knew that any assessment he made of Midoriya's intentions or actions were warped and biassed at best and deluded at worst. So he pushed his assumptions aside and refused to dwell on them. “And I don't really know. But I'm trying. I’m better, and that’s a start?”

Katsuki let the silence hang between them, assuming Midoriya needed the time to consider what he’d said. Eventually Midoriya raised his lowered eyes to look at Katsuki.

“I accept your apology and I forgive you Kachan,” Midoirya said seriously.

Katsuki blinked. “Unbelievable.”

“No,” Midoriya said firmly. “I heard you out. Now you have to listen to me.

“Did I know our relationship was bad? Of course I did. I’m not a sycophant. There are things that I hated about you. But I could always see how amazing you were. I think you’re incredible Kachan. That’s why I keep chasing after you, and whenever I think of victory I think of you. That’s why I can't afford to let you go.”

“Luckily you aren’t the only one who gets to make that choice,” Katsuki said quietly. As he stood up he thought about Kamino Ward. He thought about how bad things could have been for Kyoka because of Deku's hyperfixation with him. No, not Deku, stop that.

He thought about his volunteer work and how freeing it was to make that demand of Mr Aizawa. How freeing it was to make a choice about his hearing aids and what his disability meant to him before that. No, Midoriya wasn't the only one who had a choice to make here. And Katsuki had already made his choice.

“Kachan?” Midoriya looked up at Katsuki, panicked, but couldn’t read the other’s face.

Katsuki also couldn’t reasonably spend the rest of his highschool career avoiding the nerd. So, compromise.

“We can’t be friends Midoriya. Not right now, but maybe someday," Katsuki allowed. “But that doesn’t mean we aren’t still classmates.”

Midoriya brightened drastically. That overeager, wide smile overwhelming his face and a shine returning to his eyes.

“Sure, we can be classmates! But I'm warning you, I'm a really friendly classmate,” he grinned at Katsuki mischievously and Katsuki felt some dread settle in his stomach.

Katsuki sighed as he walked away. God help him.

Koji slipped past his classmates that floated aimlessly in the entryway of the dorms. He b-lined towards Katsuki who was lounging in the common area and reading a book while Midoriya seemed to be gathering bags of trash. Katuski must have finished his half faster than the other boy. Koji waved hello to catch Katsuki’s attention, unsure whether or not he had his hearing aids turned on and Katsuki nodded back, setting his book aside as he gave Koji his attention and eyes.

“Hey, are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, just bored out of my mind,” Katsuki groaned, arching his back against the curve of the couch and gently popping some of the vertebrae in his spine.

Koji raised an eyebrow at his loud friend as he took a seat before his eyes darted pointedly over to Midoriya. Midoriya who appeared to be at the beginning of a doom spiral. Before turning back to Katsuki again with a judgemental look.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “We talked things out.

“So, how was the first day back?”

“Ah, it was definitely… interesting?” Koji's face screwed up in a way that he hoped conveyed confusion and doubt. Katsuki nodded absently like he understood, or like he was just doing what was the socially acceptable non-verbal response to statements that you don’t know how to respond to.

“Muse with Mr Aizawa?” he asked, eyes drifting across the room, probably counting their classmates and definitely noticing that Aoyama wasn’t present either.

Koji nodded, wringing his hands in his lap nervously. He trusted that Kyoka could handle herself and he trusted Mr Aizawa to know what to do. But he still hated that she had to do this by herself. Admittedly, he was also worried about Aoyama and what would happen to him, even though he probably shouldn’t be.

“In just one day I've been completely left behind!” Iida said in a poor imitation of Midoriya’s voice. The quality of his voice caught Koji's attention involuntarily by snapping him out of his thoughts. “That’s what you’re thinking, right?”

“Hey Iida, what’s a work study?” Midoriya asked.

“Something I can't tell you about!” Iida declared. “The teachers have forbidden us from giving you any details about our classes.

“Sorry, you’ll just have to experience the same shock and surprise we went through.”

Iida raised his voice even more as he turned in their direction. “Did you catch that Bakugo?”

“I heard you fine Four Eyes,” Katsuki called over the top of his book. When did he pick that up again? Iida nodded satisfied before hurrying off and Midoriya returned to his own task.

Koji then had the pleasure of watching Kirishima cautiously approach Katsuki. Constantly stopping, psyching himself up and starting again. Koji wasn’t the only one considering the intent stare Kaminari was directing at Kirishima’s back. Judgmentally and a kick in the ass Koji assumed, at least judging by the way it sent a shiver down Kirishima’s spine ever time he froze with an unnatural scowl plastered on his face before forcing himself to move again; that and the frown on Kaminari’s face.

Eventually Kirishima’s shadow fell over Katsuki's book and he paused to look up at him. Koji felt a whine creep up in his throat when Katsuki dog-eared the page to mark it.

“Hey Bakugo,'' Kirishima said hesitantly, a strained smile on his face. “Can I, um. Can I talk to you?”

Koji nodded violently. “Yes. Yes.”

He poked Katsuki in the shoulder who let himself tip over playfully before writing himself again. Koji just continued poking him. Katsuki threw him a dead look.

“Go talk to your boyfriend,” Koji poked him again. Katsuki groaned but complied, putting his book on the coffee table and getting up. He stood up so abruptly that Kirishima nearly fell over trying to get out of his way.

“Okay, fine! Sure, we can talk.” he nodded his head towards the stairs as he walked past Kirishima, inviting him to follow. Kirishima stumbled after him, suddenly forgetting that he was supposed to be mad at him as his face morphed into something Koji was extremely familiar with; a lost puppy.

“Uh, where are we going?” Kirishima asked. Katsuki stopped walking and turned to give him a dry look.

“My room? Unless you want to talk here?”

“No! I mean, yes! I mean, that’s fine, perfect! Great… if that’s okay with you?” Yeah, Kirishima was very lost. Though considering how seriously Katsuki took his boundaries, Koji could see how an allowance like this would throw all rational thought out the window. It would be like Kyoka letting someone touch her instruments. Or Hitoshi with his drip coffee. Or Koji with anything on his bookshelf.

Katsuki snorted, “ I wouldn't have offered it if it wasn’t Shitty Hair. Besides, I just cleaned up, it’ll be fine… probably.”

Koji threw Katsuki a smug grin behind Kirishima’s back. Katsuki gestured for Kirishima to go ahead of him before taking the first chance where the red head wouldn't see to sneer back, throwing Koji a middle finger as well for good measure. Koji just responded with a smile he’d picked up straight from Katsuki.

As soon as Koji was certain Katsuki was out of the room he dived for the book Katsuki had left on the table. Koji opened it to the marked page and smoothed out the corner, slipping a spare bookmark between its pages. He was going to set it down but curiosity got the better of him and flipped it over to read the blurb. The back of the book was a copy of its cover, this time in full grayscale and without the red, yellow, blue and pink glitched effects that accented it and its title. It showed a view of New York from under the bridge, composed to draw you in. The blurb fit in the negative space at the top of the book where the shadow of the underside of a bridge stretched widest. It talked about a city with soul and myths and children. It talked about a city that lived many lives and faught with itself. Which was how Koji found himself reading Katsuki's book.

“Ooh, is Kiri making a move on Jiro's man?” Ashido said. The way she said it had Koji peering at her group from over the edge of the book. She was overeager and out of line. And she seemed to know it too seeing how she said it so conspiratorially to the people closest to her. Or maybe that’s just how ‘gossip’ was done. “Spicy.”

“Drop it Mina,” Kaminari said sternly. He crossed his arms, creating distance between himself and her huddle.

“What? Why?” She whined with an over exaggerated pout and puffed cheeks. Then a glint came to her eyes as she turned her drama hungry attention onto Kaminari and needled him. “Yuh jelly?”

“How would that make any sense?'' Kaminari muttered incredulously. That assertion would require him to be smitten with Katsuki and jealous of Kirishima. Ashido looked like she was going to keep pushing but Kaminari was quick to cut ahead of her. “But! It doesn’t matter because they aren’t dating. End of story.”

“You’re right,'' Mineta agreed solemnly. Respecting boundaries? Now that was odd for him. Then he gave Kaminari a thumbs up, one of those thirsty looks on his face. “It’s good to stay positive. Besides, if Kirishima takes Bakugo that means more babes for us right?”

Nevermind. Kaminari was starting to look even more uncomfortable.

“I didn’t take you for an ally, Mineta?” Sero said, pleasantly surprised.

“Don’t get it twisted. I don’t want those freaks anywhere near me and lesbians are such prudes but less competition is always a good thing for guys like us, right?”

Where’s Kyoka or a knife when you need them? Sero pulled a line of tape from his elbow ominously, expression instantly shuttered.

“Hey man, what are you doing?” Mineta stuttered as Sero stalked closer. The smaller boy turned to flee but Sero jumped to restrain him, his height and superior reach making the capture ridiculously easy before suspending him upside down from the ceiling like a spider saving its prey for another day. Koji hid a smug grin behind the pages of the book he wasn’t reading. Kaminari took advantage of the chaos to flee while Ashido and Hagakure continued chatting like nothing had happened.

“I’ve kissed a girl. Don’t know how I felt about it," Ashido mused.

“Really?” their voices faded out as they wandered away and Midoriya slipped back into the building, a befuddled expression on his face.

“Deku!” Uraraka called, perking up considerably when she saw him. He floated over to where she, Sato and Ojiro were going through some maths work together. “Are you okay? Bakugo didn’t try to start anything when we were all gone, did he?”

“No. He’d never!” The looks of disbelief they all gave Midoriya shared a sentiment even Koji agreed with. “Okay so maybe he would but didn’t! And we worked things out in the end.”

She remained silent, lips pursed into a disproving pout.

“People have been trying to tell me what’s best for me for a long time,” Midoriya said, tone almost dark with how haunted it sounded. Uraraka flinched. “Don’t be another one. I can handle myself.”

“Fine,” Uraraka agreed. “But he should be more grateful for your kind heart. It’s more than he deserves.”

“What are you doing with my book?” Katsuki asked, appearing behind Koji suddenly and startling him badly. Koji’s gaze flickered back to where the others were but the conversation had moved on to other things.

“Curious.” Koji handed the book back. “How’d it go?”

“Good, I think? It’ll get better," Katsuki decided as he sat down to keep reading.

Chapter Text

“Man, it’s so weird that Aoyama isn’t around anymore,” Ashido said, collapsing onto the couch.

“I hope his family is okay,” Tsu added.

“Who knows, maybe if things get better soon he’ll be back?” Sato wondered hopefully.

“Did he tell anyone what was wrong before leaving?” Sero asked, glancing around the common area at the other students that had lingered. Everyone he glanced at shook their heads. Katsuki locked eyes with Kyoka who also shook her head no.

While she had accompanied Aoyama to Mr Aizawa the other day the teacher hadn’t let her stick around for their talk or the following one he had with Nedzu and the police. Instead he had her stay behind with Hitoshi and help him train with his capture weapon. The next day he was very tight lipped about what happened and what they’d decided on. At first Kyoka thought it was because Hitoshi was there and he didn’t know that she’d already told him what was going on. But when he still kept quiet when it was just the two of them, even after he’d given her classmates the cover story, Kyoka had gotten frustrated.

“What are you going to do with him?” she had asked.

“That’s none of your concern,” Mr Aizawa had said.

“Right,” Kyoka rolled her eyes in disbelief at that.

“That’s for your safety, you know that.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better and you know it.”

“Well, if you want to discuss Aoyama we can talk about how stupid, dangerous and reckless confronting him yourself was.

“I explicitly told you not to engage with the traitor once you found them and retrieve me immediately. You could have compromised your own position and our opportunity to take in the spy.”

“I’m aware but this,” Kyoka gestured between them emphatically, “is exactly why I did it. You lied to us again and you’re going to keep lying to them. I would never know the truth if I hadn't asked and that would have eaten me.”

“Because you can't stand not knowing something,'' Mr Aizawa deadpanned, unimpressed.

“Don’t presume to know me sir,” Kyoka snapped, “there’s a lot of things I wish I didn’t know. You forget that, unlike my peers, I don’t get the luxury of ignorance.”

Kyoka and Mr. Aizawa glared at each other, their equal stubbornness making neither want to be the first to submit. Aizawa out of a desire to retain some professional authority over the situation, especially as he was supposed to be scolding her and Kyoka because she believed that she was right.

Mr Aizawa's theme was haunted by grief in a way Kyoka had, rather evidently, come to recognise. His harshness and disillusionment, a lesson he tried to hammer into his class repeatedly, likely a consequence of whatever made his theme that echoic. It played with no fanfare whenever he entered a room and used chromatics to an almost dissonant degree, flattening what would be perfect harmonies and resolving chords like he was forcefully trying to hold himself in that dark place.

He wanted them to know now that the world was a dark place before they had to go out into the world and see it. He wanted them to be prepared. He couldn’t know that, for Kyoka, his reality checks were at least a decade too late.

It was also that darkness that made him so honest and that frankness that had disarmed Kyoka. She was used to coddling, placating and especially to absent dismissal but Mr Aizawa was none of that. So despite his many missteps Kyoka had learnt to trust him.

It was sobering to know that even though she trusted him, even though his honesty was the point, she was still expecting him to lie and coddle. What was more sobering was that, evidently, she was right.

Mr Aizawa broke the silence.

“Look, what you did was entirely illogical and put yourself in an unnecessary danger. But you somehow convinced Aoyama to turn himself in and cooperate with no collateral damage,“ his glare softened. He was still mad but he was going out of his way to make certain his next words would be received as sincere. Even if he was also hoping they would also disarm Kyoka's aggression. “So I guess what I'm saying is, good job.”

“You’re giving me too much credit sir,” Kyoka had said idly.

As Kyoka replayed the memory in her head she belatedly realised how hypocritical her expectations were. There she was admonishing Mr Aizawa for lying to protect them when she had been lying to everyone, her entire life, to protect herself. She looked around at the classmates she’d gone through hell and highwater within half a year. Sure, she didn’t know all of them all that well, and sure she couldn’t say she even liked all of them but-

They listened to her, they believed her.

Kyoka’s eyes found Shoji's large frame in the dining area with Tokoyami.

They’d keep secrets for her and each other.

Of course there was a risk to having more people know, but the more people who knew the greater their ability to act on her information. The limitations even Mr Aizawa had faced at the provisional licence exam proved that.

She had promised Shoji an explanation.

The likelihood that Mr Aizawa would agree of course was slim to none and after how their last conversation went she didn’t really want to push it. But just because Mr Aizawa was the one in charge of her doesn’t mean he was the only one in charge.

Kyoka got up and headed to the door.

“Where are you going?” Ojiro asked. Kyoka didn’t spare him a glance as she swept by.

“I need to talk to the principal.”

Chapter Text

“Are you sure about this?” Mr Aizawa checked again. Kyoka doubted he thought pestering her on it would make her change her mind (it was doing the opposite) but why he was doing it otherwise alluded her. It was still frustrating.

“Mr Aizawa, they're more capable of keeping secrets than you think they are.” she knew that wasn’t his concern, Nedzu had already debated that argument dry. She was glad that he did it and she didn’t have to, if she’d done it she’d probably let a few state secrets slip; whatever happened at Hosu, Shoto’s homelife, Midoriya and All Might’s connection.

Needless to say liberal implications of threats, an appeal to their camaraderie and heroic protectiveness and legal NDAs were headed 1A’s way anyway. Hitoshi, the lucky bastard, would get to avoid all that until he inevitably joined their class; there was a free space now after all. Not even Kyoka would get to escape the NDAs because she needed one for knowing Aoyama was the traitor.

“I meant that you could wait until after a specialist sees you, after we know more. There’ll be less secrets that way," Mr Aizawa clarified. Right, the specialist. Nezu still wanted to do that, Kyoka kept saying no. See, the ‘best’ case scenario was that they find out that the Soundtrack was something conclusive. The ‘worst’ case scenario was that the results came up inconclusive. Why would that be the worst case scenario?

Well, the way Nedzu liked to talk about it, the worst case scenario would just put them in the same position as what they’d started in; knowing nothing. But Kyoka thought otherwise. The worst case scenario would mean that the Soundtrack was unknown, something unseen before, unique or inconceivable. That would be dangerous, especially with the League after her and the Soundtrack. It would also raise more questions than if they hadn’t gone looking in the first place. If the second option proved true Kyoka would have rather lived in ignorance.

“It’s not about the secrets, not really. Everyone deserves their secrets, that’s why I keep them. It’s about why I'm here.”

If there are no heroes become one.

It wasn’t about finding a female role model with her kind of attitude. Well, it was, but it was one of many reasons and the shallowest one; especially after Miruko hit the scene.

If there were no heroes who would listen to her, if she was going to be haunted by hollow eyes left unseeing, if death wails and keening would go unanswered in the dark crevices of days and nights, if death could be dealt by desperate hands weighed down to the bone by grey despair that was masked to everyone except the song in theri souls, then the snitch would be that hero. When justice failed the Soundtrack would remind her to not let a victim suffer in silence. She didn’t know then, when those hollow eyes looked at her unseeing, she could at least have the chance to try now.

“And the more people who know the more we can do. It’s just-”

“Logical,” Mr Aizawa finished with a resigned sigh. On the one hand it was the mindset that he was trying to teach them, on the other hand he hated it when it was turned against him.

“It’s a lot easier for an orchestra to play when they all have a copy of the stave,” she mused. That wasn’t remotely how a professional orchestra worked but Mr Aizawa didn’t know that and wouldn’t need to. The point was that you could only follow a plan if there was one in the first place.

They entered the dorm together with silent steps until Mr Aizawa called for the class’ attention. Iida and Yaomomo both headed upstairs to fetch those who had returned to their rooms.

Kyoka could hear Shoji round the corner, expectant and pleased. Koji was just behind him and Kyoka looked over to catch him speaking.

“What’s this about?”

“The truth. Or as close as it can be," Kyoka signed.

“Why did you need us all here sir?” Iida asked sharply once everyone was gathered.

“Jiro,” Mr Aizawa said simply, sceding the floor to her.

It was fascinating to watch how he made himself disappear from her classmates’ perception as they all zeroed in on her with a minimal amount of movement. Kyoka still tracked him though, even as her body twitched at all the attention on her, the Soundtrack not following the intent of his movements.

She wondered idly if it would be different if she had a theme too, the Soundtrack then able to construct a bridge to transition and blend the tunes. Her fingers twitched, wishing for sheet music, an instrument and a pen like she had forgotten why the bridge didn’t exist was the same reason why she couldn’t write it for herself.

Mr Aizawa's theme hadn’t changed but suddenly it felt empty.

Kyoka forced her train of thought back on track. Figuring out how to start was always going to be the hard part, even more so than deciding to do this in the first place. She’d done this twice before and she still didn’t have the right words.

With Mr Aizawa and Tsukauchi she’d been blunt and dry; one could have mistaken her words for a joke.

With her friends she’d been uncharacteristically hesitant and surprisingly eloquent.

But Kyoka had never been very eloquent. Unexpectedly expressive, sure, especially in the lyrics of her music. But not eloquent.

The first had been easy, the second had been raw and messy. This had to be honest but it couldn’t just be unfiltered word vomit.

“Does anyone hear music?” Kyoka asked honestly. It was a question she hadn’t asked in a long time. It was one of the first questions she started asking, it was also the first one she had stopped asking. ‘Listen to me’ and ‘help me’ would follow.

“Other than the tune you’ve been humming?” Kaminari asked, his expression was blank and his tesla coil buzzed instead of crackled. She’d been humming? Kyoka didn’t have the wherewithal to wonder how often she did that without noticing. If she did she would have asked what songs she sang.

“No, I mean. I’m hearing music that isn’t there,” Kyoka impressed upon them. Out of the corner of her eye, Shoji's limbs turned into ears, searching for anything like what she’d described. “And I don’t know where it’s coming from.”

The hardest part about starting is that once you’ve started you have to know when to stop. It’s knowing how much you have to say for people to understand and entice them to ask questions themselves that will make your life easier. Or knowing when to stop talking before you say something they shouldn’t know but are allowed to figure out on their own. But it’s also about saying a lot of the same thing to make it look like you’re saying more than you are while saying nothing at all. Most importantly it was about not letting anyone know you’re doing it as you do it.

She was allowed to tell them enough so that they could understand what the Soundtrack was. She wasn’t allowed to explicitly tell them how it worked or what she could do with it; not that Nedzu or Mr Aizawa knew that themselves. But they were allowed to theorise and infer on their own.

She couldn’t say where the Soundtrack came from or what it was, because she didn’t know, and she wasn’t going to tell them how long she’d had this ability. But that was a self imposed rule; if they asked she wouldn’t lie, even if her teachers might want her to.

“Oh! Like an OST or, what’s it called? Uh, incidentals?” Ashido exclaimed.

“Yeah, like a Soundtrack.” Kyoka suppressed a grin as she scanned the expressions of her classmates.

Midoriya was inquisitive, excitement overriding any suspicion.

Yaomomo and Iida were cautious but contemplative.

Shoji had relaxed once she’d started speaking. He was hard to read otherwise but Kyoka was just glad that he was still staying silent.

Shotos’ blank expression wasn’t out of place and did wonders to hide that he knew all of this already.

The way Katsuki’s face naturally rested in a frown was similar.

Kyoka could take the suspicion, the curiosity and the excitement. She was just glad that none of them were angry at her for lying, or scared of her. The latter might be because they couldn't conceive of how invasive the Soundtrack was capable of being

The thought made her shift.

“Your life is a horror movie,” Tokoyami declared. Even Mr Aizawa stopped short to stare at him. Tokoyami ducked his head, embarrassed. A nervous chitter vibrated through his beak. “At the summer camp when asked how well you deal with horror Bakugo mentioned that you found it boring because of the sound design?”

“Yeah, she pays so much attention to the music that she can predict what happens next,” Katsuki shrugged. Kyoka was just impressed that Tokyomai remembered that. It was right before the attack after all.

“A sound based precognitive ability predicated on sensitive hearing,” Yaomomo mused. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

“Yeah, precognitive abilities are really rare!” Midoriya enthused, stars in his eyes and hands twitching anxiously. “And the people with them are usually very secretive about having them and how they work because villains might target or take advantage of them!”

The mood sombered immediately, minds drifting to Kamino as All for One’s sting swelled in the Soundtrack. Kyoka was going to make a joke about her already being a target. Or a self deprecating comment about that only being true if you could get people to believe you without thinking you were crazy. But the Soundtrack started playing Aizawa's theme so she held her tongue.

“Then you understand why we were so hesitant to let Jiro discuss this with you,” he said darkly. His quirk pinged on to emphasise his point, “and how important it is that nothing said here gets repeated to anyone else.”

“Right, the league is already after you, this would make things worse,” Yaomomo realised. If only she knew, but that was why they couldn’t.

“How can you do this now?'' Uraraka asked suspiciously. While she wasn’t explicit, the implication was clear. Did All For One give her this ‘new’ ability? He didn’t exactly have the time or proximity but Uraraka didn’t know that and Kyoka had been hearing the Soundtrack for as long as she could remember, not that Uraraka had asked that.

A low and dangerous growl emanated from Katsuki's throat.

“Uraraka, your concern is appreciated but we’ve already cleared Jiro. She did not receive this power from All for One," Mr Aizawa snapped harshly. That should be enough to keep them from asking that question again, at least for a little while.

“If he had, I don't think he would have parted with it,” Midoriya mumbled. Kyoka was thankful that what he said next was too quiet for anyone but her and Shoji to make out. “It could be the result of a quirk awakening?”

“Yeah, and it is incidental music. It’s kind of designed to go unnoticed, just set the tone,” Kaminari added. He paused in the manner he did when he was thinking of something absently. Usually when he made that face he said something inane. But sometimes he would come up with something insightful or so philosophical it would wrap back around to sounding silly. “Do you think our mood affects the tone of the music? Or is it the tone of the music that affects our mood, even if we can’t actually hear it?

“Y’know when you get a shiver down your spine or bad vibes?”

This was definitely the latter. On both counts.

It wasn’t something that Kyoka had ever considered and it was something worth thinking about but it also worked to break the tension.

“Man, you were already impossible to surprise, now you have an early warning system,” Mineta whined. His disappointment was unsavoury and Kyoka hoped this would discourage him; not that she was holding her breath.

“I’m assuming it must work passively if you just suddenly started hearing music,” Iida said.

“Yeah, it’s passive. I felt like I was going crazy," Kyoka replied. She was being very charitable with her interpretation of ‘just’ here but it wasn’t a lie.

Midoriya’s theme had been overtaking the Soundtrack as they kept talking. Literally overtaking as its tempo and volume crescendoed. Midoriya himself had fallen deeper into his own thoughts, anxious energy making his body vibrate and parts of his theme slip into staccato. She had the distinct feeling it had reached the breaking point and braced herself for-

“How does it work? Is there a threat level that needs to be achieved before it deems there is something worth warning you about? How far in advance are the warnings? Is it a universal narrative or a multitude? Does it only warn you or are you hearing other warnings for other people as well? Is it just music or are there also sound effects?”

“Midoriya,” Mr Aizawa interrupted. The green haired boy flinched violently, his expression morphed into something that resembled a kicked puppy. “We don’t know.”

That just made him more excited.

Mr Aizawa sighed tiredly, “well, now that that’s done with, I'll see you all in class tomorrow.”

He sidled out of the building, Kyoka shooting him a smug look as he went by. She’d told him she wouldn’t need a script.

Kyoka let out a tired breath. What she did need was a nap.

Chapter Text

There are three new themes lingering outside the door and Kyoka revelled in being able to blatantly stare at it while Mr Aizawa talked in her ear. It was mostly catching Katsuki and Midoriya up on what he’d already told them about work studies so she took the chance to break them down.

The first theme she could isolate was bubbly, upbeat and floaty. It was fast with a legato climbing melody that contrasted bouncy quaver chords. It shifted time signatures and scales every few repetitions though the intervals remained the same and it always stayed in the major keys. It was a nineties glam rock theme played with the synthetic space-age voice of the keytar.

The next theme was also bright but instead of jumping chords in the baseline this theme trilled arpeggios. Brass filled the harmonies, a fanfare starting every repetition. Major key to major sevenths. Too slow to be a march but with the power of an anthem. Piano, drums and guitar, this was a rock ballad like one from the eighties.

The final theme, while minor, was no less light. It was off-beat creating a catchy, swing rhythm. The melodies were elegant, legato in some places but bouncy in others because of the off-beat. Overall it had a calming effect and, like lo-fi, it was something you could leave on in the background where it would just fade away. But if you listened a little closer it could transport you to another world. This was the seventies son of rhythm and blues, soul; the granddaddy of hip hop.

When the door opened and the three students walked in, Kyoka tuned back into what Mr Aizawa was saying.

“These three are third years here. They rank at the top of the student body. You may know them as the Big Three.”

The Big Three huh? They were the top ranked hero students in the school and just as good as the pros.

“First, introduce yourselves briefly. Amajiki, you start.” Mr Aizawa handed off Kyoka’s mic to the student with blue-black hair with the soul theme.

Now, soul was known for its improvisational sections allowing performers, solo or in bands, to show off their skills even if they were having to play the same song for hours every day. While he was outside the improvisational section of his theme it was pretty smooth, taking elements of his friends’ themes as inspiration and bridging them together. Now that he was singled out alone that improv stuttered and stumbled, uncertain of what to play. Ah, performance anxiety, what an old friend.

Meanwhile Amajiki was staring at the class very intensely.

“It's no good. You two go, I just can’t” he whispered, the only reason Kyoka was able to hear him at all was because he’d accidentally pressed the microphone button when he’d stiffened in fear. “Even if I try to imagine them as potatoes I still know they’re people. My mind goes blank and I can’t say anything. I wanna go home.”

Kyoka got the feeling she wasn’t supposed to hear that as Amajiki turned to face the wall. The girl said something to Amajiki before turning back to their class to say something. She stopped part way and turned to look at Mr Aizawa, confused, before perking up and returning to Amajiki. She eased Kyoka's controller out of his vice grip, gave it a quick look and pressed the green microphone button.

“Testing, testing!” Kyoka gave her an obligatory thumbs up and her grin brightened even more. “Alright! I’m Nejire Hado and this is our kitten Tamaki Amajiki.

“I’m supposed to be talking about work studies, your first years have a really exciting time ahead of you.”

She stopped, seemingly distracted by something and suddenly switched tracks completely. She leaned into Shoji's personal space.

“Oh. Why are you wearing a mask? Is it ‘cause you’re feeling sick or are you just trying to look cool?”

She didn’t give Shoji a chance to answer before moving on and doing the same to Shoto.

“You must be Todoroki right? How did you get that big burn on your face?”

Then she moved on again

“And Ashido, if your horns break off do you think that you’ll grow new ones?”

She called out to Mineta from the other side of the room.

“Mineta, are those balls your hair or what?”

Then she leaned into Tsu’s face.

“Asui, you’re a tree frog not a toad right?”

And again.

“Hey Ojiro, can you support your entire body weight with that tail of yours?”

And again.

“And why are you wearing headphones?”

Before Mr Aizawa stepped in. Whatever he said chastened Hado and she skipped back to the front of the classroom. The blonde with the rock anthem that still hadn’t introduced himself said something to the teacher that Mr Aizawa apathetically agreed with. Kyoka got the distinct feeling she was missing something important.

So she raised her hand, catching Mr Aizawa's attention. He said something that she couldn’t hear again but Kyoka could take a guess. Still she remained silent and unmoving and Mr Aizawa caught on, gesturing to Hado and retrieving the controller before speaking again.

“You missed that, didn't you?” he said. Kyoka lowered her hand.

“Yes sir,” she replied with a nod.

“Togata wants you all to fight him.” Kyoka had a feeling that she was still missing something.

“Ah, so it’s a trap,” she said simply. Mr iazawa flashed her a smirk beneath the layers of his scarf while Togata and Hado appeared to break down laughing.

“Get changed and get to gym gamma. Let’s keep this short.”

Togata’s theme changed the moment he stepped onto the battleground, which was when Kyoka knew for certain that this was a trap. Gone was everything that made a rock ballad a ballad instead power rock took its place at double pace. The band was accompanied by wicked strings but what really blew Kyoka away were the multiple guitar solos embedded into the song, even one worthy of Jun Senoue in how much it shredded. Togata was not the overconfident prankster he made himself out to be.

“He’s going to crush you,” Kyoka said in a song-song voice, already separating from the group so that she could flee to the sidelines.

“He can’t be that bad,'' Katsuki groused, though now he was looking wary as well. Kyoka knew he was going to fight no matter what she said anyway.

“Wait, ‘you’. Don’t you mean ‘us’?" Kirishima asked.

“Let me put it this way. He’d still beat us one vs forty. So yeah, I mean you, I'd rather live to learn thanks," Kyoka demurred, ducking out of Katsuki's reach and over to Aizawa's relative safety. She was surprised to see Shoto join her.

“You aren’t going to join them?” Mr Aizawa asked, watching Kyoka and Shoto from the corner of his eye.

“Do I look like the kind of person that just walks into a trap?” Kyoka deadpanned though inside she was giddy with the anticipation born from the music. She felt like she was vibrating out of her skin.

“Your early warning system would definitely come in handy,” Mr Aizawa continued as the three of them watched Togata sink into the ground and reappear at the back of the pack. He wasn’t wrong; she had just tracked Togata’s song down, across the floor and back up again, but-

“My reaction time’s not fast enough for that. Not when he doesn’t come with a dedicated signal like you or Kurogiri or Tsukauchi,” Kyoka explained. “And I work better with more info anyway.”

“And you, Todoroki. Aren’t you interested in seeing what it takes to take the top spot?”

“I didn’t even get my provisional licence,'' Todoroki replied simply.

Wait. there! That motif in the strings right after Togata had punched Midoriya. What was that doing there?”

“Kyoka, are you all right?”

The first time she heard it was in the background of All Might’s theme, though the strokes of the bows were a lot sharper. It became more prominent in Yagi Toshinori’s theme. Admittedly they were really identical themes with different parts of the track played at different volumes. Though it was no less heroic than ‘All Might’ the brass and strings switched places in the score marking a shift in outward and inward perception.

That motif showed up again in Midoriya’s theme and would stay there even when everything about his score changed and evolved in genre, style and intensity around it. Most themes iterated, Midoriya’s tended to remix but that part of him that he shared with All Might stayed. Then at Kamino, All Might’s last stand wasn’t just punctuated by that motif, it was that motif. No brass, just a man burdened by the weight of something greater who had to push on no matter what. At the time Kyoka had called it hope, but whatever it was Togata seemed to share it too.

“Mr Aizawa. What connection does Togata have to All Might?" Kyoka asked as Togata stood triumphantly.

“Why? What do you hear?”

“The same thing I hear in Midoriya. All Might. And a lot of it.” From the corner of her eye she could see Shoto mouth ‘love child’ and struggled to keep a straight face. This was deeper than blood and where once Kyoka would have been forced to set this aside now she had a real chance to get answers.

“Do you know who Sir Nighteye is?”

“Nope.”

“All Might’s old sidekick, he mentors Togata.. I wonder if you’d hear All Might in him too?”

Kyoka hummed. She wasn’t so sure herself and the Soundtrack seemed to agree.

“Looks like the demonstration is over, let’s go see what the lesson was,” Mr Aizawa drawled.

“So, what did you think? Isn’t my quirk strong?” Togata beamed at the class once they’d all gathered in front of him. Kyoka’s classmates that had fought all clutched their stomachs and groaned in pain.

“Yeah, it’s too strong!” Sero exclaimed.

“That’s not fair. Mine’s nothing in comparison!” Hagakure agreed.

“How can you slip through things and warp! Do you have two powers like Todoroki does?” Ashido asked with a pout.

“Nope, just the one,” Togata answered. He was going to speak again when his blue haired friend jumped in front of him to interject

“His quirk is called Permeation. Cool right?” Hado grinned. Amajiki scolded her for interrupting but Togata waved him off and continued just as brightly.

“Yep. What you guys thought of as a warp was simply an alternative application of that power,” Togata explained. “The strength of the quirk is only limited by your ability to apply it.”

“Man you sound like Kyoka,” Kaminari whined, turning to pout at her. Kyoka just shrugged at him helplessly

“Kyoka huh? Oh! You were the one of the students taken by the league of villains right? I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Togata said. He still had that smile on his face; it was starting to get unnerving.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“So, so?” Hado pressed, “What did your classmate mean? That Mirio sounded like you?”

Kyoka sighed, twirling one of her jacks between her fingers. “My quirk is pretty simple. My jacks let me amplify sound that’s coming in and coming out. But by looking into the research scientists have done about soundwaves, sound based weaponry and the different types of sound I can do everything from make glass shatter to make you chuck your stomach.”

Togata nodded along in agreement, “my ability to warp works the same way. It takes permeation, adds a little science and creates a result that is totally unexpected!”

“See when I warp I activate my quirk in my entire body. Then I can pass through anything. Including solid ground.”

“So that was you falling through the floor of the gym?” Uraraka realised.

“Yup! I went deep underground, then I deactivated my quirk and since 2 entities with mass can’t overlap I got repelled upwards! The ground spits me out and I fly up into the air. Physics!”

“That sounds like a buggy video game,” Ashido whined. Yep, exactly like the kind of crap speedrunners use to go as fast as possible. Shigaraki would have a field day with this cheat code.

“You're able to avoid any attacks and you can move where you want in an instant. You were born with a really strong quirk,” Tsu reasoned.

“Not true. My quirk put me at a major disadvantage. It’s only strong because I made it that way,” Togata explained sadly. “When my quirk is active everything passes through me. I can’t breathe, I can’t hear, I can’t see. In that state of falling, of total permeation, I can’t feel anything.”

Kyoka wondered if that was true for light. If when he went permeable no object with mass could touch him then sound definitely wouldn’t reach him, it relied on particles hitting each other to cause vibrations after all. But light? Sure, like sound it was a particle and a wave but Kyoka was pretty sure light didn’t have mass because the particle it was made out of were photons? And light could definitely travel in a vacuum. Maybe it had something to do with how the retina worked rather than with how light worked? But his eyes could also not see anything because he’s underground or inside of a solid object. Kyoka didn’t know, she knew sound and ears, not light and eyes.

“That’s why if I want to go through something I have to concentrate really hard, activating everything but one part of my body at a time.”

Now that was interesting, if he could activate his quirk in parts then could he make the inside of his body permeable but keep the outside impermeable? What if he made the inside impermeable but the outside permeable and spilled all his organs onto the ground? Wait a minute! If he couldn’t see because light passed through him while permeable then how could they see him!

Sight works because the light bounces off of the object, if light goes through him because he’s permeable then there’s nothing for the waves to bounce off of and therefore he would be invisible. Right?

You know what. Ashido said it best, this sounds like a glitched video game, so Kyoka was just going to chalk it down to video game nonsense.

“In order to get to the top with this quirk I couldn't just hope that things would get better. I had to think. I learned to make combat decisions, picked up a few tricks, and above all, learnt to predict what would happen next. And the thing that makes those predictions possible in the first place is experience.

“In our work studies we’re treated as if we’re pros. That can be super scary, but all the scary and painful experiences you go through are things you won’t find inside of a classroom. Even at U.A.

“I transformed experience into power. That’s how I made it to the top.”

Yeah, definitely a video game.

Chapter Text

“Man, the workplace studies seem intense,'' Kaminari whined, flopping belly first over the back of the couch and hanging there lamely. Tokoyami leaned away from him to avoid getting hit, barely glancing up from his book. “But that Togata guy and his friends were so cool.”

Kyoka wandered into the common room behind him, one hand balancing her notebook with a couple of things on top of it while the other held the neck of her acoustic guitar in a death grip. She gave Kaminari's legs a wide berth as she passed him, taking a seat on the adjacent couch.

It was pretty late in the day. The sun was dipping below the horizon and most of their classmates were up in their rooms already. Some were still milling about, having just come down for a late dinner, taking advantage of the greater kitchen space now that it wasn’t so crowded. Kaminari looked over at her when she sat down and plucked a few of her guitar strings.

“Hey Kyoka!” he called, sitting up and propping his head up under his elbow to watch her intently. Kyoka plucked another string, turning the peg a quarter turn tighter. “You thinking about trying for a work study?”

“Not really,” Kyoka frowned, glancing over at him briefly. “And I don't think you should either.”

“Why? Don’t think I could get one?” He taunted her.

“No, I think you’re barely passing your classes as is and I don't think you’d like what happens to your grades when you start missing a bunch of classes every week,” Kyoka pointed out as she plucked the last string on her guitar and tightened it by two rotations.

Kaminari pouted at her, refusing to admit that she had a point, and instead looked past her at Shoji who’d just sat down at the nearest table to eat.

“What about you Shoji, are you thinking of trying for a workplace study?” Kaminari asked. Shoji considered the question for a moment before shaking his head.

“Not right now, no. I don't think I have the right connections to get a placement that would help me,” he said.

“Underground work?” Kyoka called back.

“Yes. Recon or search and rescue.”

“I feel ya.'' Kyoka pressed three fingers on the fretboard and strummed a C chord.

“Are you going to play us something pretty?” Kaminari asked, a slanted grin on his face as he squeezed between the couches to sit by Tokoyami, leaning against the armrest to get a closer look at Kyoka’s guitar as she played.

Tokoyami glanced up when she played another chord, setting aside his book momentarily to watch her play scales to warm up her fingers.

“I was wondering,” he began and Kyoka looked up to show him he had her attention, even as her fingers kept playing. “As a trained musician, how are you dealing with playing when you have the ‘Soundtrack’ in your ears all the time?”

“Like it's an uphill battle,” Kyoka demurred. “Playing freeform and improv is a lot easier because then I can play with the Soundtrack. Playing or learning a piece has been a lot harder but manageable if it's a solo. But playing with accompaniment or being the accompaniment in an orchestra or band is so hard it’s almost impossible.”

“Man there goes my idea of starting a 1A rock band,” Kaminari sighed wistfully.

“I said it was hard, never said I wasn't up to the challenge,” Kyoka snorted, “Why? Are you interested in joining one?”

“Yeah,” Kaminari shrugged. He looked at Kyoka earnestly. “So long as you’d be down to teach me?”

“Swing by sometime. I’ll see what we can do," Kyoka promised.

“You must really enjoy playing a lot if it's so hard for you to do now,” Shoji added as he joined them. He took a seat at the opposite end of Kyoka’s couch.

“Well, yeah, I guess. Music may be my parents’ livelihood but it's kind of my entire life," Kyoka explained, absently playing a tune on the guitar. “The funny thing is that while the Soundtrack makes playing harder it makes me appreciate music even more.”

“Really, I thought you’d get sick of it eventually?” Kaminari wondered, he waved his hand in the air dramatically. “Yearning for the days when things were quiet.”

“In your dreams,” Kyoka huffed, punctuating her words with a power chord. Besides, it was kind of hard to want for a time you don’t remember and the brief instances without the Soundtrack had only hurt her more than relieved her. A world without music wasn’t one she wanted. Not anymore. “But really. When you know the secrets behind how music is composed every note and phrase becomes so much more significant. When you know how to alter a leitmotif or play with construction without altering the foundation then five people can play the same song in five different ways. And each of those ways could invoke five different feelings.

“And if there’s one thing that music is expertly and uniquely suited to it’s the ability to worm its way into your heart and mind and make you feel something.”

“I wish I had your dedication to the art of music. But I abandoned the axe when I was bested by the F chord," Tokoyami admitted. Kyoka’s hands slipped into the F major chord and the strings trilled out in a clear voice. Tokoyami clicked his beak sadly and dipped his head.

It wasn’t all that embarrassing. Lots of people struggled with F major because it was the first barre chord that you were forced to learn. Pushing your finger against the entire first fret while having the other fingers in position and maintaining an even, heavy pressure throughout is something even professionals struggle with. Good thing there were other ways for a beginner to play F major then… unless you had a bad teacher of course.

“Dude, it’s so cool that you even played at all!” Kaminari exclaimed with a bounce.

“Why not try a bass guitar?” Kyoka offered. “Because of their role in a band and their four strings there are no barre chords, unless you want to go out of your way to give yourself a headache.”

“I’ll think about it,” Tokoyami agreed. He picked up his book to start reading again, which was when Kaminari clocked its cover.

“The Cats of Ulthar?” he asked.

“Hm, yes it’s-”

“One of H.P Lovecraft’s short stories,” Kaminari finished with a grin, “in the original English I see.”

“I’m surprised,” Tokoyami blinked. Kaminari’s face fell and he suddenly became sheepish.

“That I’m interested in something so academic?” he assumed, curling in on himself.
Kyoka opened the tin beside her, letting the plectrums inside rattle against the thin sheet metal pleasantly as she groped around for one blindly. Picking out an acrylic one by weight and smoothness alone before throwing it precisely at Kaminari so that it clocked him in the forehead before bouncing into his lap.

“What have I said about putting yourself down?” Kyoka scolded me with a raised eyebrow. She held the blonde’s gaze as she pulled a celluloid, shark fin plectrum out for her to strum with. Kaminari gave her a melancholic smile, absently fidgeting with her acrylic plectrum, but didn’t say anything.

Tokoyami chuckled. “That you’re aware of the obscure entries in his bibliography; even if it is one of his favourites. I also didn’t expect that you’d be interested in this genre. It doesn’t seem quite your style.”

“How am I not surprised that it’s yours,” Kaminari returned. Tokoyami chittered in agreement and the pair started to chat quietly about the book. “I wouldn’t say it’s obscure, The Cats of Ulthar is just one of his earlier works so it isn’t what people are looking for or expecting when you hear the name Lovecraft-”

“That’s a lot of guitar picks,” Shoji commented. Kyoka glanced over to see an arm with an eye on the end extended to look down at the space between them. The sound of his voice was slightly muffled as it filtered through his mask. Kyoka reached out a hand to nudge the tin towards him. He accepted the non-verbal initiation to take a look, morphing the eye into a hand to pick up the tin and bring it closer to him.

“Different materials, thicknesses and shapes produce different qualities of sound. Some are more flexible than others and that changes how easy it is to play different styles,” Kyoka explained. “I don’t have a pick of every type but these ones all make my favourite sounds with the instruments I brought with me.”

“They’re beautiful,” Shoji said, returning the tin to the notebook she’d put it on top of.

“I like the variety,” Kyoka shrugged.

Kyoka kept up a soft string of music, unapologetically shifting into a lower register and minor key. She kept it up even after the boys on the other couch shot her a half offended, half amused look.

“You want to what?” Kyoka asked, startled.

“We want you to play something for us!” Hagakure cheered. Uraraka and Yaomomo both nodded in agreement. Kyoka blinked and rubbed a line under her eyes tiredly.

“And you decided to brother me this early on a weekend because?”

“I have to go in for my work study this afternoon,'' Uraraka explained politely, a pleasant grin held firmly across her face.

“Besides, we thought it would be a nice way for us to hang out because you’re still mad at Mina and you're avoiding us,” Hagakure added. Kyoka scowled, glaring at her harshly and Hagakure rushed to placate her. “Not that you don’t have a right to be mad at her, or any of us!”

“I’m not mad at you,'' Kyoka sighed, resigned. “Ashido is just pushy in the same way Hado was invasive and she doesn’t seem to understand she’s done anything wrong. Besides, your premise is still flawed. I play sure, but I don't really perform.”

“That’s not what Kaminari said,” Yaomomo reported idly, and… since when did those two talk? “You were playing in the common room the other night.”

“I wasn’t performing, I was just jamming,'' Kyoka protested. “Most of it was a warm up just to keep my fingers limber.”

The girls held her gaze, intent. Kyoka turned away from them, ducking her head and letting her hair fall over her face. She didn’t want them to see her flush under the attention.

“Just because I don't put on a show doesn’t mean I want to get rusty,” she muttered into her shoulder.

“Just one song, please,'' Hagakure insisted. Kyoka glanced at Uraraka from behind her hair, who smiled at her pleasantly. Yeah, she wasn’t getting any help from her. Kyoka swept a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked imploringly at Yaomomo, trusting her of all of them to be reasonable. Yaoyorozu watched Kyoka worry her bottom lip and felt heat rise up her neck, Hagakure's stifled giggling did not help matters any.

“I confess that I can't help but be curious,” Yaomomo admitted, looking anywhere but Kyoka’s face and dashing her hopes. “I’ve been trained in the classical style of music and you represent a style that I didn't know existed until recently.”

Kyoka was conflicted. She could have just said no to a live performance and recommend Yaomomo music to listen to that was outside of her comfort zone. Kyoka had playlists for that, she had cds for that, hell she had tapes and vinyls for that. But Kyoka also knew that live music just hit differently.

“Okay, fine,” Kyoka acquiesced, grabbing her keys for the other room. “But just one piece and don’t touch anything without asking me first.”

Stepping into Kyoka’s music room was like stepping into another world. The walls were lined with black panels of corrugated foam. The floor was covered by a red carpet in a shade that wasn’t dissimilar to Momo’s costume while a heavy blackout curtain was pinned closed in front of the window. At the back of the room was a raised platform upon which an elaborate drum set stood. On either side of the platform were large looming speakers, a pair of amplifier boxes and microphone stands were placed nearby them.

Pressed up against the left wall was a rack of seven guitars, each one boasting a different colour scheme and some appeared to be of different makes. Another amplifier sat on the racks on the other side, a sound mixer resting on top of it. In front of the guitar rack were two black boxes placed at odd angles that seemed to be intended as seats. This layout was approximately mirrored on the other side of the room with a keyboard. Against the back wall was a wireframe shelf filled with other music electronics and devices, including a record player. While behind the door was a shelf full of physical musical media and various strange accessories, cables and plugs for Kyoka’s instruments and tucked in the corner next to it were stands for music sheets.

“This is quite elaborate,” Momo said as Kyoka led them to the left side of the room and towards the guitars.

Kyoka hummed absently as she picked out an electric guitar and started plugging things in. “The structural stuff was all here when I got here. The soundproofing, curtains and stage I mean. Present Mic’s doing probably”

“Why do you have so many guitars?” Uraraka asked.

“Three different types of guitar. One acoustic, two bass and four electric," Kyoka explained as she absently tuned her guitar by ear. “And I have four electrics because they look cool.”

She strummed a chord letting it hang in the air and filter away naturally. The bronze strings quaked and quivered violently, each time they were plucked or swiped. They moved in a way Momo had never seen on the strings of a grand piano or the violin family with their hammers and bows. Each key of the piano was perfectly pitched and standardised, the tone always the same even if its dynamics could change. Meanwhile the violins could squeak and shriek, notes echoing like haunting voices that blended together. But more often than not, when played right, they whispered and sang. Plucking was rare but sounded like droplets of water hitting a surface with the way they would plink. The double base was the violin most often plucked, but never in the music her mother approved of.

“Lead or rhythm?” Kyoka asked once she was ready. Momo wasn’t sure what she was referring to or quite what Kyoka was asking but Hagakure did and was quick to answer.

“Give us a rocking solo!” she cheered. That seemed to be the correct answer as Kyoka’s lips twitched and she side-eyed Hagakure with slanted eyebrows.

Her grin slowly stretched into a mix between a snarl and a smirk as an idea came to mind. It sent a shiver down Momo's spine with its predatory sharpness and Momo didn’t have to wonder if she’d picked up any behaviours from Bakugo. But there was a spark in her eye that made Momo excited.

“Not much of a song but sure, I’ll shred for you.” She grabbed a plectrum from a tin sitting on the rack. She turned the dials on the amplifier a little more before putting her hands in place.

With a deep breath Kyoka began to play at an extremely fast pace. Her left hand skittered up and down the strings, sliding and jumping across the fretboard. Her right hand cut at the strings faster than a bow could glide across them. Each one she pulled with precision, some softly, some so harshly Momo was surprised that they didn’t snap.

The piece Kyoka played sounded like a storm come alive. Jagged like crackling electricity, steady as the fall of rain. The sounds jittered between high and heavy like dark clouds and electron charged air. She jumped scales and slid down octaves like the fall of lightning, crashing against metal or wood or earth. The pick between her fingers is inflexible as it shivered between strings, smooth edges gliding easily in the grooves of metal strings. Sometimes the strings would screech and shriek and Momo feared something might have gone wrong only for Kyoka to shift easily to something else and she realised the metallic sounds were part of the song’s story, like howling winds in winter nights. Or at least that’s what Momo imagined.

But what enchanted Momo the most was not the music or the image of storms and wild hunts it confirmed in her mind but that look on Kyoka’s face. Never had Momo seen her solely in her element. Even when she sang to herself and wrote music in class it always seemed like a part of Kyoka was absent, far away or lost in a daydream. But here her eyes were clear and sharp, gaze locked on the fretboard even if Momo got the feeling that she didn’t need to see to play every note pitch perfectly.

The smile on her face was electrifying and endearing. It was all jagged lines and sharp edges but the shine in her eye betrayed nothing but joy. Her body moved to the music, shoulders, head and waist shifting and bobbing to give her better control and reach over the fretboard but which Kyoka managed to make look like a theatrical expression of her enjoyment.

For a musician so staunchly against performing she certainly knew how to put on a show.

And she looked gorgeous while doing it.

Chapter Text

Katsuki slammed the dough down on the counter, kneading it violently. Music filtered through his hearing aids as he worked, incorporating more flour into the large lump to make it less sticky to work with. Behind him he knew Kyoka was at the breakfast bar working on her chemistry homework.

She would chew absently at the end of her pen as she thought, her entire body moving along to whatever music she was playing through both of their devices. Sometimes her hands tapped silently on the counter along with the rhythm. Sometimes her head would bob back and forth to the beat. Sometimes it was her leg bouncing up and down to the semiquavers, the motion invisible on this side of the counter if not for how she practically vibrated in her seat.

He wedged the dough again when a beep in his ear interrupted the music. Katsuki set the dough aside and gave his hands a rinse, sparking them off before drying them and turning his hearing aids back on. He turned around to face Kyoka who was setting her controller to the side while her other hand turned her workbook around to face him.

Katsuki’s eyes flickered back and forth across the page.

“You’re good Ears,” he concluded, passing the book back.

“Thank god,” Kyoka groaned dramatically, leaning back precariously on her stool to stretch out. Katsuki rolled his eyes.

“Chemistry isn’t that hard,” he sniped back affectionately.

“In theory, yes. But the maths sucks.”

“How do you transpose into the augmented sixth again?'' Katsuki drawled and chuckled at the deadpan expression she gave him in return. “Seriously though Muse, creativity will always be the more impressive feat.”

Kyoka hummed sceptically in that special way she did where she hit a specific note unlike other people who just swallowed words or made absent noises. She tried to hide it by burying her head in her phone and her controller but Katsuki knew she was embarrassed. For some reason Ears couldn't take a compliment.

Katsuki returned to his dough as Kyoka put on a new song. The last playlist was full of instrumentals of different types that were designed to help Kyoka focus on her work. Which Katsuki assumed meant they did the best job at drowning out the Soundtrack. It explained why they were all so different in style and generally leaned on intense anyway; the opposite to the usual elegant ambiance or calming classic one would expect. This playlist seemed to be the one she’d compiled for Eyebags. A mix of jazz and blues songs interspersed with horror movie soundtracks, creepy and sleepy lullabies with the occasional jarring nightcore cover just to keep him on his toes.

“What are you making?” Ears asked, still tapping away on her phone as Katsuki separated the lump of dough into smaller balls to roll out. He should have enough for about ten evenly sized pieces.

“Pan fried flatbread, thicker than naan. Like pitta bread but without the air bubble in the centre," Katuski grunted, hunting through the cabinets for his olive oil and a rolling pin. “Gonna serve it with balsamic vinegar but if you have any requests?

“Garlic butter,” she replied. Then paused awkwardly for a moment, her attention turning to something in the Soundtrack. For Katsuki it was a sobering and impressive thing to realise just how much Kyoka's behaviour hadn’t changed now that more people knew the Soundtrack existed and was real. It showed just how much she’d taken advantage of other people’s misconceptions to hide it. Knowing really only recontextualised what was already off about her and yet the rest of the class instantly believed that the Soundtrack was a new development.

“Midoriya, you have questions.”

Katsuki whirled around to look behind him. Predictably Kyoka hadn’t looked away from what she was doing but Midoriya was frozen where he was lingering awkwardly by the common area, head ducked bashfully in his notebook.

“Did the Soundtrack tell you that?”

Katsuki winced involuntarily, recognising that tone and edge to the nerd’s voice. He was curious, and excited, but mostly invasively curious.

“No,” Kyoka responded blithely, waving her hand dismissively. “But you avoid me unless absolutely necessary and your mumbling gives you away.”

If there was one benefit to their classmates knowing about the Soundtrack it was that the Snitch Bitch was a lot more confident and outspoken with her assertions. Which was saying a lot since she didn’t mince words before.

Midoriya’s eyes darted anxiously back and forth between Kyoka and Katsuki, fingers drumming against his notebook. The pair had drawn the attention of their classmates in the common area who unsubtly stopped what they were doing to eavesdrop. Soy Sauce and Grape Stain put their game on pause to glance over. Racoon Eyes beside him wasn’t even trying, perching on the couch on her knees to lead over its back. Icy-hot and Glasses would be doing better if their obstacle wasn’t Arms’ hulking frame as he lingered between the dining area and the couches. Shoji was the only one with any discretion but that was to be expected with a quirk that boosted his senses… even if his unnatural stillness was also a dead giveaway.

Katsuki threw Midoriya a sour look but turned back to his bread, stalking off to grab butter from the fridge and garlic and parsley from the pantry but pointedly refusing to leave Kyoka’s immediate area.

Midoriya finally managed to gather up enough courage to keep asking his questions, “what are you hearing right now?”

Muse guffawed, “you have no idea how little that narrows things down.

“Without looking I can tell you exactly who’s in this room. There’s eighty’s disco for Ashido. There’s this odd, but really cool remix of swing and reggae coming from the front of the room telling me that Sero and Mineta are doing something together. I’m going to go out on a limb and say they’re playing a video game because there’s something blending in too well with Iida’s chiptune that I almost can’t parse out where one starts and the other ends except that Iida is so loud in comparison. And there are a lot, a lot of drums.

“I can’t hear xylophones so Tsu’s not in the building and the lack of any melodies lower than C3 tells me that Tokoyami’s probably out too.”

Katsuki frowned as he tried to parse out how much of what she was saying was obfuscation and what would lead him closer to the truth. So a person’s theme could encompass an entire genre or instruments and wasn’t just limited to a specific song or melody? Except that didn’t seem right when Ears could use the Soundtrack to track individuals which meant they had to be consistent. But when talking about musical productions she’d explained that leitmotifs could change; that was their whole gimmick and critical to her ability to read people.

“So it’s not one song throughout but multiple layered over top of each other,” Midoriya muttered.

“How do you hear anything clearly?” Arms baulked being the only person with the experience to be able to even imagine what that kind of sensory overload might be like. Though it now seemed obvious that sensory input wasn’t the only overload of information Snitch had to deal with.

“With great difficulty and a lot of advil,” Kyoka deadpanned. She paused for a second thinking about how she wanted to describe and Katsuki cleared his hands to manage the stove and pan, two plates waiting on the counter. “It’s like singing the harmonies in a choir or acapella group.

“You’re trying to sing the part you’ve been assigned but it's not the natural way to sing the song so it just sounds wrong and you have to fight your brain to avoid singing the melody. At the same time you’re surrounded by people singing different parts and harmonies from you so you can’t just latch onto what the closest person is doing and use that as a guide.

“Except you also don’t know what it is that you're supposed to be singing.”

“So what predictive information you could discern from it would likely be based on luck volume or distinctiveness because of how disjointed and layered the music is,” Midoriya muttered. “I wonder how you could train it to focus on the information you want.”

“You say that like I control what it plays,” Muse muttered, voice suddenly a lot closer to him than it had been moments ago. She had started portioning out and mixing together her garlic butter, the balsamic vinegar he’d wanted was already sitting innocently in a sauce bowl nearby.

“But you can isolate melodies,” Katuski pointed out quietly as he placed the first two pieces of bread on a plate to cool. “Thick or thin?”

“Thicker,” Kyoka replied. “I either pan for gold or ask nicely and hope it gives it to me, there’s no inbetween. The last time I tried to demand information from it I blacked out with a nose bleed and woke up with a migraine.”

“Right, the Soundtrack is a needy pseudo-sentient bitch,” Katsuki smirked, clenching his stomach in anticipation of the elbow to the side.

“I said that it was hard, not that I couldn’t do it,” she argued petulantly.

“The only thing I'm hearing is that you sang in the choir,” Katsuki teased. Muse turned away from Katsuki sharply but he still saw the heat rising on her cheeks and down her ears.

“How does that sound?” Four Eyes asked awkwardly, stumbling over his phrasing. Kyoka was quick to regain her composure before turning back to the main conversation.

“Like hearing an orchestra play live and in person… or so you’d think. In reality the Soundtrack is cut and coordinated too perfectly to be a real orchestra," Kyoka explained, a lovestruck shine coming to her eyes as she gets lost briefly in whatever memories she was recalling.

“We’ll take your word for it,” IcyHot shrugged before quaking his eyebrow. “Most people have never seen a live orchestra.”

Muse rolled her eyes. “You've never felt the hum of shaking strings or the explosive weight of mallets coming down on taut skins. In a live performance you can feel the kinetic energy in the air and when each wind or brass player pauses to breathe before the next phrase or note.

“The Soundtrack just can’t replicate that and it definitely can’t replicate the teamwork, cooperation and trust required to pull off those performances. And when they sing-”

“They sing?” The pervert asked. “Why sing?”

“How does the singing work?” Midoirya asked absently, slowly devolving into a storm of incomprehensible words. “Whose voices does the music use? How…”

“Because it's dramatic and sets the tone for the situation at hand or for a person,” Kyoka deadpanned. Katsuki slid one of the plates of flatbread towards her, reaching around her to grab his dish of vinegar before taking a seat at the island.

Sero perked up. “Person? You mean we have theme songs?”

“Yeah, that’s what makes the Soundtrack so cacophonous,'' Kyoka shrugged, taking a bite into a piece of bread as she returned to where she’d been sitting at the island to do her school work. She was clearly bored but then again they were asking the most basic questions about the Soundtrack’s main and most obvious mechanisms. But now their classmates weren’t even trying to hide that they were listening in, curiosity colouring their faces as they shifted to see Kyoka better or moved closer to the kitchen. “If it just scored the mood then it would be a traditional Soundtrack and cause me less problems. Instead I live in a hurricane of noise.”

“I hear you, I hear you,” Sero nodded sagely, “but all I'm hearing is that we have our own theme songs in your head.”

“You want me to play them for you, don’t you?” she grumbled, letting her second piece of bread hang limply in her hand.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Half-and-Half confirmed, tilting his head in dead interest while some of the others were sheepish about the request.

Kyoka looked at Katsuki inquisitively. He didn’t know why she was asking for his permission to talk about her shit but he gave it to her anyway. even still she hesitated, until Arms called her attention.

“If you can't, that's fine. I understand how hard it must be to play music with different music in your ear. It must be nearly impossible to follow along to one piece of music while a dozen others are stacked on top of it without losing your place,” he assured her. The words sounded supportive but even Katsuki ‘take no prisoners’ Bakugo could hear the challenge in them. After all, it was something she said she could do no matter how difficult now she just had to prove it.

“I think I can do you one better,” she admitted as she slipped out of her seat and eagerly took the bait. She may not have been as competitive as he was, but Kyoka was wholly incapable of backing down from a challenge.

Kyoka took her school workbook and another piece of bread with her as she left the common area to go up to her room to presumably grab an instrument and some of her sheet music.

She came back with a guitar in one hand, gripped in a stranglehold around its neck. Her other arm was wrapped around an overflowing binder that she had pressed firmly against her chest and a plectrum slipped between her middle and forefinger. She passed the guitar off to Katsuki who cradled it awkwardly in his arms while she cleared a space on the counter for her binder, leafing through the pages as her classmates shuffled closer.

A glare from Katsuki in their direction stopped them from entering the kitchen space. Those who had come over from the couches stood around awkwardly until Pinky pushed past the dumbasses to sit her dumb ass down on one of the dining tables. Four Eyes tried to protest but she stuck her tongue out at him playfully and made herself more comfortable, her feet dangling off of the side of the table her only compromise. That kickstarted the others into taking seats themselves, though they were kind enough to sit at the tables like normal, boring people. Only Midoriya and Shoji remained standing. The former hovering while the latter was just more comfortable where he was since the dining area chairs were too small to be comfortable for his larger frame.

“You just have them all written up?” Multi-Arms wondered, sharp eyes locked on the pile of sheet music Kyoka was pulling from her binder as it kept getting bigger.

“Give or take a few dozen possible variations,” Kyoka shrugged casually. “Any requests? I can’t play them all completely accurately because some use different instruments but I can give you a sense of the melodies.”

Katsuki could tell that Midoriya was itching to come closer and dig through the pages with how the nerd was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, but he distracted himself by asking another question.

“Are the themes a reflection of what you think of us or of what we think of ourselves?

“Maybe it’s a representation of some sort of objective ‘truth’ about who we are? But who or what would decide what that is?”

Katsuki didn’t catch how Kyoka flinched and froze at Midoriya’s second question, hand jittering in a way that almost caused her to knock her stack of papers over.

“That would imply there was some higher being or entity observing us. In which case-”

“I don’t know Midoriya,” Kyoka interrupted uncharacteristically in such an obnoxiously bright manner Katsuki almost thought it was Pinky that had said it. But he could tell how forceful the tone was and how her eyes were pinched, not in frustration but some sort of pain or panic. Her oversweet mania exaggerated the sarcasm in the rest of her explanation. “Let me just call up everyone else who could hear the Soundtrack and compare notes, literally of course… oh, wait.”

Midoriya flushed, beat red, and covered his mouth with the top of his notebook. His doe eyes glistened apologetically and Katsuki assumed he gave an apology only Shoji or Kyoka could hear because the latter slumped in relief. She pulled out the last sleeve and snapped the binder shut, pushing it off to the side and out of the way. It was impressive though, the way she continually deflected questions about the Soundtrack’s mechanics without having to withhold or deny answers by responding to them with emotive anecdotes instead. Because denial and ignorance would only make Midoriya more curious and persistent rather than less.

“How did you do all of this?” Racoon Eyes asked, gesturing to the stack of sheet music but lacking the courage to pick any of it up.

“Years of ear training and perfect pitch,” Kyoka replied, glossing over the amount of pseudo stalking she would also have had to do to isolate those themes properly. Okay, so maybe Katsuki was kidding considering the Snitch Bitch was presenting her familiarity with the Soundtrack as a lot weaker than it really was. But she was the one taking advantage of musical jargon and her background to hide how familiar she really was with something that was ‘supposed’ to be a new facet of her quirk.

Kyoka finally took the guitar out of his arms, allowing him to spark off and clean his hands again as she took a moment to tune the strings by ear quickly.

“When did you have time to do all this?”

“Whenever I get some free time. When I want to procrastinate studying… sometimes I work on music notation when I get bored in class,” Kyoka admitted with a shrug. “I write music, that’s nothing new.”

“Jiro, that is highly irresponsible,” Glasses chastised, arms cutting robotically through the air in that way he always does. “You should be focusing on your schoolwork!”

“Work-life balance Iida, have you heard of it?” Kyoka bit back, fingers drumming across the guitar’s body. “I hear it’s important for your mental health and for maintaining healthy relationships?

Anyway, any requests?”

“You know we’re all just going to ask you to play our own themes right?” Tape Arms pointed out.

“You’ll figure it out. Just don’t ask me to play Kats’ theme. It’s mostly percussion and this is a guitar, not a drum. You’re free to take a look at it from the pile though.”

Before anyone even had the chance to do that Katsuki pounced on the stack, slipping his file out and pointedly pinning it under his empty plate and Kyoka’s abandoned one. Tape Arms raised his hands bemusedly in mock surrender and Kyoka snorted abruptly at his behaviour.

“Okay then,” Sero grinned, looking back at Kyoka. “Since no one else is saying it, do mine.”

“Reggae, without the percussion, starting with a challenge huh?” she muttered as she slipped the right sleeve out of the stack Katsuki had jumbled up. She pulled the three pages out of the sleeve and laid them out on the counter in front of her before bringing her phone, flicked to the voice recording app and let the phone rest nearby.

Katsuki absently wondered why she didn’t bring down a music stand too, even if they were cumbersome equipment to carry she could have always asked for some help. Then again, maybe not having a stand made this arrangement feel less performative for her.

Her right hand hovered above the record button then, as she beatboxed a simple meandering habanera rhythm under her breath, it bobbed up and down in the air to the beat. Once she’d gotten the feeling ingrained in her body, instinctively swinging with the languid rhythm, she hit record and played Sero’s chord progression to that rhythm before stopping the recording and setting it up to play on loop. After a moment the music started to filter in through Katsuki’s hearing aids and he rolled his eyes at her; she never failed to take advantage of how the support department had given her the ability to hijack his frequencies, then again he never stopped her. Then she started to pick out the melody over the top of the chords.

Katsuki could see that Sero’s theme was lazy and lackadaisical. Its easy going nature inspired an open and carefree air in the room. Stiff postures relaxed and some eyes fluttered closed as their classmates found themselves caught up in the feel of the song. Even the repetitive nature of the theme music was working with the tranquilising presence Sero invoked.

The Muse hadn’t been wrong. Live music did feel different. But there was one aspect of live music she’d forgotten about, the audience. Maybe it was because she “wasn’t” a performer, or maybe because she was too much of one, but she’d forgotten how the reaction of the people around you could change your experience of the music being played. Katsuki watched her play, so completely and wholly absorbed in her craft that it was almost like she wasn’t there. Her fierce and outspoken presence was swallowed up by the song she was playing until her body language seemed to mimic Sero’s.

He could see why she forgot about the audience when she was so lost in the music she didn’t even look at them. Katsuki just couldn’t understand how it was possible when the Soundtrack made her the solitary audience member to what was probably the greatest show in the universe, if the sheer force of this snippet was any indication anyway; not that Katsuki would dare diminish Kyoka’s skills.

All too soon the piece came to a close, Kyoka turning to fiddle with her phone again.

“Are they all like that?” Racoon Eyes asked after taking a moment to shake off the lingering effects of the music, though her tone was still filled with awe.

Kyoka chuckled bemusedly. “Music specialises in making people feel things. But the Soundtrack has to work in reverse, by turning what you feel into music instead of evoking it.

“Sero feels like a relaxed, lazy day. So his theme draws on Jamaican and Caribbean music, even if something polynesian would suit him better.”

She picked up another sleeve from the pile, tapping its cover pointedly. “Meanwhile Iida feels strict and consistent so he has a very stilted and repetitive theme. Even if I think something more dour or fast would suit him better.”

Midoriya made a note about Kyoka not agreeing with all decisions made by the music as she started picking away at Glasses’ theme.

“So the soundtrack’s just a vibe check?” Ashido grinned, sharing a sharp look with Sero.

After a couple of bars of music her brow furrowed. She played another bar but unexpectedly slowed to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” Arms asked, head cocked and brow furrowed.

“Just realising how weird and wrong Iida’s theme sounds when it isn’t played on fixed pitched instruments. Playing it in staccato helps but it’s missing that choppy consistency that makes it Iida.” She kept playing until she hit the end of the page but her wrinkled nose plainly displayed her distaste.

“And every theme is entirely unique?” IcyHot wondered. He’d come over to the counter, undeterred by Katsuki's constant glaring and began idly paging through the sleeves of sheet music.

The others would have taken this as their own cue to crowd closer if Katsuki hadn’t started audibly growling. Something that Todoroki was still unfazed by, giving the blonde a blank look and slow blink in response. His refusal to let them approach was two pronged. Sure Katsuki was an asshole who liked his personal space, but so was Kyoka. And they were sitting at the kitchen’s breakfast bar, if everyone crowded around they’d block off access to the kitchen which was rude and irresponsible.

Was Katsuki being needlessly obstinate by not explaining this to them or finding a reasonable solution? Yes. But again, asshole.

IcyHot seemed to be holding the braincell though, with Ponytail absent and the nerd distracted, as he picked up the stack and brought them over to the table Four Eyes was still sitting at. He’d conspicuously and pointedly left a single sleeve behind which Kyoka obligingly slid over to herself to read.

“I wouldn’t say entirely unique. Nothing is one hundred percent original," Ears joked before answering the question seriously. “Leitmotifs within themes can represent different ideas and concepts that multiple people can share. Even then those leitmotifs have variation, reversed, upside down, different notes, octaves and keys but the same rhythm and intervals, or different rhythms but the same notes, octaves and keys.

“Take Midoriya and Katsuki. They have similar violin solos in completely different parts of theri themes but while Katsuki goes down Midoriya goes up.¹

"But even unconnected themes can share ideas.”

“Why?”

“Depends on how you define an idea and how you think a theme defines a person. Instruments, genre, metre, key, mood and tone. Both Shigaraki and Iida have chiptune themes, but not for the same reason and the genre doesn’t represent the same idea for both of them.

“Shigaraki’s chiptune is trying to convey one of the same ideas as Tsu's xylophone and ukulele though. But for different reasons.

“You want a shortcut for writing a hero theme? Just put it in brass. If you want something to sound sexy, use the saxophone. You want something scary? Get an organ.

“No points for guessing what Midnight’s theme might sound like.

“Heck, All Might and Endeavor have a similar melody line at one point, but Endeavor’s can never reach as high.”²

That got a chuckle out of Todoroki.

Muse started playing the song that IcyHot had left for her.

She played a repeating descending pattern of notes on the guitar as the piece opened. Then she took a deep breath and sang as she played, operatic vocals carrying the melody. The things she was saying were wordless meaningless syllables whose only purpose was to convey an air of mourning.

When she let her voice peter out she switched from picking a baseline to strumming. Her hand slid up and down the frets creating an ascending tension. Until the sound dropped and Kyoka started picking the riff. It was another tense pattern that looped but the notes were held for longer at a time than the opening baseline had been which gave the impression it was building up to something. It was like the piece was designed to draw your eye and hold it there, making it impossible for you to look away.

Then it suddenly changed, a different, higher note than what the repeating pattern had listeners expecting. It signalled they were at the climb to the climax and the end of the piece. But when the music got to the top of the stairs and everyone expected Kyoka to bring it home with a chord back down in the bass notes or one step above the climax she simply held that leading note. The energy in the air lingered even after the note had petered out, leaving behind something unsatisfying and frustrating, which Katsuki assumed was deliberate on the part of the composer; if one were to exist.

“There are only seventeen pages here Jiro, you and Bakugo both have one each so we still appear to be missing one,” Iida called, trying to maintain some order and control over how and where he’d laid out the sleeves of sheet music as their classmates took them at random and tossed them back onto the table carelessly.

“Yeah, what about your theme? Where’s that?” Midoriya asked, from the speed the nerd was writing he was probably about to bombard her with questions about what everything meant.

Ears froze.

“It’s okay if you don’t want us to see it,” he rushed to apologise, stumbling over his words. “If it’s too personal or anything you have every right to keep it to yourself even if none of us could understand it.”

“It’s not that.” Kyoka interrupted tersely, eyes downcast. Her fingers counted the lopsided lub-dub of a heartbeat as she maintained the silence.

“I don’t have one,” Kyoka admitted sullenly. Katsuki’s eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline.

He wouldn’t say that didn’t make any sense because no one knew how the Soundtrack worked exactly but he did know that it didn’t feel fair. If only because of how downtrodden Kyoka had suddenly become.

“How ironic is that?” Kyoka continued with a bitter, deprecating laugh. It was clear that this was an old wound. It was the kind with a persistent ache that you could comfortably ignore or get so used to that it went numb. Until the wind blew the wrong way or it rained and it tore open again, becoming too much to bear. “I can hear music that no one else can, the songs inside people’s hearts, an audible tapestry of who they are if only I paused to listen and figure it out.

“And I'm not even offered the same courtesy, the same chance.” Katsuki itched to lay a hand on her shoulder but his palms sparked instinctively, reminding him why that wasn’t a good idea. Instead he had to watch her spiral, forgetting herself and her careful cover for a moment as she vented about something she’s definitely never been able to tell anyone about.

“What are you trying to tell me? That I'm not worth listening to? I already knew that, thanks.” The wounds there ran deep too and Ashido’s skin went a few shades lighter.

“I didn’t need to be told that I might as well not exist too,” Kyoka’s voice dropped lower, Katsuki missing her words entirely. He wasnt the only one who missed it, but there was someone who could hear and the stricken look he found on Arms’ face as he tried to figure it out by gauging the other's reaction filled in all the pieces he needed.

He bit the bullet and nudged her legs under the table, okay so maybe he kicked her, bringing Kyoka back to herself. She raised her head again to look at them all.

“But seriously,” she continued dryly, abruptly taking on Shinso's mannerisms. “A musician without a song to call her own, how droll.”

Everyone in the room was hesitant now, but they wouldn’t stay that way for long. Kyoka knew that too as she was already slipping out of her stool. Leaving her music sheets and folder behind but with her guitar still grasped in hand she b-lined towards the elevator and either retreated to her room or took a moment to catch her breath.

Katsuki made to go after her as soon as his hearing aids alerted him that they had disconnected from her phone when his own phone vibrated in his pocket. He paused for a second to check the notification giving Shoji the opportunity to slip out of the common room himself. It was a text from Kyoka asking him to collect and hold onto her binder and sheet music. He could take it up to her room or she could grab it from his room later. He sent her an affirmative back. She was asking for space and he’d reluctantly give it to her, besides, it'd give him a chance to do some snooping through the other themes from the Soundtrack at least.

Chapter Text

Kyoka lingered in the stairwell as she waited for Shoji to come after her. She sent Katsuki a quick text to keep him distracted, abundantly aware that his aggressive defensiveness wouldn’t be helpful right now even if his support would be appreciated.

She’d slipped up, admittedly. She’d gotten too emotionally charged, swept up by the music - what have you - and she hadn’t realised until the words had already slipped out of her mouth. It wasn’t too bad, and Kyoka didn’t quite know whether to consider that lucky or unlucky, since Shoji was the only one with enough pieces to be confident enough about a conclusion to make an accusation of deception. Well, unless Todoroki was pulling an uncharacteristically accurate conspiracy theory out of a hat.

Even still, she wasn’t going to lie to the boy, even if he knowingly made Mr Aizawa or Principal Nedzu mad at her. If they found out, that is since they already weren’t certain if anyone outside of Katsuki knew the ‘full’ extent of the Soundtrack and its origins. You’d think that would be an impressive feat until you recalled that none of the teachers beside Lunch Rush had yet clocked that Katsuki and Koji were friends. They could be mad for all Kyoka cared, she’d spent over ten years keeping this hidden, keeping quiet, going unbelieved. Just because she wasn’t going out of her way to scream it from the rooftops now that she’d gotten a modicum of positive reception doesn't mean she wasn't going to take the chance to build a support network. Trauma may run deep, but keeping secret identities from friends, family and teammates was stupid and more effort than it was worth.

She heard Shoji pause in the hallway, using his own hearing to determine where she had gone before approaching the door to the stairs on the girl’s side of the building. He rounded the corner and Kyoka found herself looking down at him from the first landing. Kyoka laid her guitar down on the ground in the corner of the landing and sat on the stairs, uncomfortable with being so high above him when he was normally the more imposing figure. Shoji started the conversation after ascending the stairs so that they were at eye level.

“The Soundtrack isn’t a recent development, is it?”

“What gave me away?” Kyoka asked soberly with soft eyes and an invisible small smile on her face. She was still off kilter from before but she could try to reassure him that she wasn’t mad or upset.

“Scars like that hide wounds that run deep,'' Shoji stated knowingly. He didn’t need to explain how he’d come to that conclusion. At this point they both knew where the others’ line was in terms of hearing range and sensitivity and as opposed to the rest of their classmates, they were the only ones consistently and consciously accommodating and aware of that sensitivity. While they’d never openly talked about what they’d heard and hid they did commiserate on it and it was pointless theatre to hide from each other. But Shoji wasn’t done, “the ease at which you break the Soundtrack down, like you know it off the top of your head and aren't analysing on the spot or proposing ideas. The way you disused your difficulties working around it, you weren’t relearning how to play music you grew up having to play music like that. You call it ‘the Soundtrack’ so naturally whereas everyone else is stumbling, like it was an old friend. Your accommodations are also seemingly tailored for the Soundtrack and you couldn’t have done all that sheet music work in less than a month between everything else we’ve had going on.

“I’m surprised you aren’t denying it.”

Kyoka snorted, “Believe me, I don't keep the Soundtrack a secret because I want to. I’m just used to people not listening, not believing.”

Shoji sat down beside her.

“I don't hear it when it comes. I think that’s what scares me the most. You’d think it would become quiet but it doesn’t.

“Nothing changes.

“The world moves on and if you didn’t know you never would.

“It’s like the stars. They explode and we don’t even know they’re gone until their light blinks out and we’re already a hundred years too late.

“The ones I can hear are worse. Because it gets so loud and you wish it would go silent. But nothing is ever silent, one voice sputters out, you regret wishing, and the world keeps turning.

“It’s worse-”

“-because it tricks you into thinking you could have done something and you can’t. Didn’t," Kyoka finished.

She felt like she’d been handed the keys to the kingdom. Suddenly everything about Shoji's theme made sense. The minimalist genre is simple and uncomplicated, tricking you into thinking it’s quiet in comparison to everything else. But Shoji’s theme is also slow, favouring long sustained notes and simple repeating patterns to imply length.

On the one hand it meant his theme didn’t impact the Soundtrack that much, acting almost like the world’s simplest baseline and holding the root note of each bar’s chord. But you would know when it was gone.

Kyoka steadied herself and offered him her own keys.

“I always hear it. If I paid more attention I could know more than just… knowing. But that would drive anyone insane.

“Not every piece gets to come home or gets a ritardando or a diminuendo either. I wish they could but I've never heard a theme get a coda.”

“Isn’t that more of a structural thing to simplify music notation than something that changes and dictates performance,” Shoji commented, distinctly amused. Kyoka huffed and elbowed him ineffectually. He knew what she meant.

“The first time I snapped a guitar string I almost had a panic attack. The first time someone knocked over a drum kit I started sobbing.”

“And pianos?”

“Too sturdy not to break without a demolition team, thankfully.”
Shoji hummed and they sat in their sort-of silence before he spoke again, “Bakugo and Koda?”

“Shinso too, and Todoroki has enough information to figure it out but I can neither confirm or deny whether or not he actually knows.”

“I do, so he gets plausible deniability.”

“Shouldn’t have said anything then.”

They didn’t talk about it.

They didn’t have to.

What was one more secret.

It was another night that Kyoka lay listlessly in bed, the unfamiliar sound of everything keeping her up. The sounds of the building settling once heated day turned to cool night. The shifting sleeping habits of Hagakure down the hall and Uraraka and Ashido the floor above her. The new soundscape in the Soundtrack was another issue altogether.

With a defeated groan, Kyoka peeled herself out of bed and resigned herself to going to the kitchen and doing something sort of productive. Maybe she’d down a sleeping pill while she was at it. Kyoka stumbled from her room to the elevator, blearily making her way into the kitchen.

“Hey Princess,” Kyoka yawned absently, easily and automatically accepting and addressing the Soundtrack’s information. She opened the fridge and its light blinded her, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut and abruptly snapping her to awareness. Kyoka paused for a beat, doing a double take before leaning back around the fridge door. “What are you doing up?”

Yaomomo smiled at her serenely over her steaming teacup. Her hair was pulled out of its normal spiky ponytail, ebony waterfalls cascading down her back and over her shoulders creating a stark yet soft contrast with her victorian-style nightgown.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmares?” Kyoka guessed, now clocking the few off key notes being played consistently in her melody.

“Same as you, I suppose?” Yaomomo nodded.

“Not really,” Kyoka shrugged, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck. “It just… doesn’t sound right and my brain already wasn’t cooperating with going to sleep anyway.”

“Yes, I suppose the last few weeks you would have been much too exhausted to worry about that.”

“Yeah, so I'm thinking of warm milk or sleeping pills if I'm that desperate.”

“Then how about I make you some tea instead?” Yaomomo offered rising to her seat.

“I’m not a fan of chamomile.”

“Then it's a good thing my night tea of choice is Valerian Root,” Yaomomo replied smugly. “If you don’t mind waiting for ten minutes.”

“Whatever you want Princess,” Kyoka replied indulgently, squeezing past Yaomomo as they traded places and slipping into a bar stool to watch her work.

“So, why were you sitting in the dark?” Kyoka asked, trying to break up the not-silence silence.

Yaomomo ducked her head. “I didn’t want anyone to know I was awake, we’re breaking curfew after all.”

“I think that only applies if we leave the building, we can’t exactly control our body functions.”

“Yes, but Iida-”

“Ah,” Kyoka nodded in understanding. “Just call him a hypocrite.”

Yaomomo snorted, “not all of us are as forward as you are.”

“Sometimes I think more people should be. Most of us aren’t mind readers, we can’t tell what other people are feeling and you can’t do anything about problems if you don’t communicate.

“I make my stances and issues with people abundantly clear.”

“What about you? You said most people aren’t mind readers, but can you read what people are feeling with your music?” Yaomomo asked, tone uncertain yet hopeful as she set a teacup in front of the other girl.

“Vaguely, but things can get lost in translation or are biassed by my interpretations. I make assumptions often, I'm not always correct," Kyoka admitted. “Then there are all the things I might miss.”

“And do you miss things often?” Yaomomo prodded, her curiosity sounding pointed but still missing the crux of what Kyoka was saying. If there was something she thought Kyoka should know or did know, then she would have to say it.

“I won’t know until someone tells me Princess. It all comes back to communication,” Kyoka shrugged, taking a first sip of the tea Yaomomo had made her. It was smooth, the liquid warm as it slid easily down her throat. It had a strong earthy smell like petrichor or a forest. Her first taste was tangy, bitter and sent a shiver down her spine but had a slightly sweeter aftertaste. It wasn’t pleasant but Kyoka could see how it could become an acquired taste.

“I see,” Yaomomo said slowly after a silent pause.

“Thank you for the tea,'' Kyoka continued, beginning to leave, teacup in hand. She paused at the threshold and turned back to Yaomomo. Let her have another try. “Unless there’s anything else you wanted to talk about princess?”

The darkness hadn't done much to hide the flush on Yaomomo’s cheeks. It looked like she had finally plucked up the courage to say something but then, disappointingly, lost her nerve again.

“No, that was all. Have a good night Jiro. I hope you sleep well.”

Kyoko turned away from Yaomomo again and took another sip of her drink. It was sweet.

Chapter Text

Midoriyia was anxious and Kyoka meant more so than usual. He’d come back from his first proper day of work studies upset and his theme was as absent and flat as he was. It had gotten worse after he’d talked to Mr Yagi. He came back to the dorms with red stained, puffy eyes and a twitchy desperation to him. Ever since his theme kept creeping up on her, even when he wasn’t around, so she was kind of expecting this eventually.

“How does your precognition work?” Midoriya asked. That was a growing trend with her classmates now that they ‘knew’ just how vast and specific her awareness was. They’d address her apropos of nothing, barely even announcing themselves and assuming she was already aware or paying attention to them. Not to say they were wrong or anything, but it was still rude and she didn’t appreciate being an unwilling messenger for people floors or rooms apart.

“I wouldn’t call it precognition. It’s more like an alarm really," Kyoka replied, setting aside her homework. Normally she would be more obstinate and bull headed about a conversation like this but the Soundtrack had worn her down and she was in a good mood right now. Might as well answer some questions and get his song out of her head. “I know when people or danger is coming because the relevant music appears or starts tingling away in the back of my head.”

“Immediate precognition,” Midoriya argued. “But I'm thinking about more long term precognition. Not a few seconds ahead but hours, days, maybe even… five years?”

“Minutes and hours I know I can do. That’s the horror movie stuff, rising tension, building suspense. But it’s definitely more vague. The immediate precognition I can tell is what's coming. Distinguish good from bad friend from foe. But increase the timespan and the fuzzier the picture gets to the point where I just know ‘something’s coming’.

“With days, the best example I've got is right now.” Kyoka watched Midoriya as his fingers twitched helplessly for a pen and paper he didn’t bring; because he wasn’t looking for a quirk breakdown when he had approached with the intent to ask questions.

“Right now?”

“Your theme was very present in the score since you got back from Sir Nighteye, you could have been to something but it came up even when i wasn’t tracking you so i figured you wanted something from me and here you are,” Kyoka shrugged. “As for years it would have to be something telegraphed that I was consciously and specifically following and keeping track of. Foreshadowing usually makes more sense in hindsight. But that’s not the question you really wanted the answer to.”

Midoriya shuffled around indecisively, biting his lip before biting the bullet.

“Can you change the future?”

“Well… obviously, yeah? The Soundtrack doesn’t reveal anything about me. No theme remember? So I don't know what’s going to happen with or without my interference," Kyoka reminded him gently. “But it’ll also nudge me to talk to people and I don't know how that might change things.

“But if you mean in general? Still yes. If the melody of the present is always shifting then the melody of tomorrow, even if I asked for it, would be… undeterminable. But that’s still not the question you want to ask.”

Because his theme was still held in tension and still hadn't resolved.

“What about death?” There it is. The instinct to avert the inevitable. Except not because a prediction five years coming is a long time and anything can happen. Nothing is immutable.

“I want you to understand that you’re asking if I've heard someone die before… and just what that implies.” Midoriya froze, the Soundtrack stuttered and Kyoka was acutely aware they had an audience that was not so subtly listening in.

“Uh. oh. Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. That was so insensitive of me-” Midoriya blurted out, a bright red flush staining his skin. He would have gone at it for hours if Kyoka hadn’t stepped in.

“‘Cause the only thing I can ask is: what kind?” Of course, that only made their reactions worse. “Course, it’s the downside of operating in the immediate future. By the time I hear it, it’s already too late. Whether that’s with the Soundtrack or not.

“Besides. It doesn’t matter if I can warn someone that their heart is beating irregularly or their lung has been punctured and their breathing oddly if they won’t believe me.”

The mood turned low and sombre, the weight of lives that could have been saved but weren’t was heavy in the air. While Kyoka had long since grown familiar with that knowing guilt and sense of responsibility, for her classmates it wasn’t as prescient.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t prove Sir Nighteyes’ prediction wrong,” Kyoka shrugged, lowering her voice so that only Midoriya could hear.

“W-what?” Midoriya exclaimed, a confused mix of startled and in denial.

“Midoriya, I don't have to be clairvoyant to put all the pieces together,” Kyoka deadpanned in a low tone. “You came back from Sir Nighteye’s upset. Sir Nighteye, who trained Togata to predict the moves of his enemies to better utilise his quirk. Then you talked with Mr Yagi and came back here even more upset and finally got the courage to talk to me where you ask about precognition, death and changing the future.

“So, my turn. Who’s future death did Sir Nighteye portend?”

Midoriya stayed silent but the Soundtrack obliged in giving him away. Old American brass played with a new if equally classic, american blues rhythm.

Kyoka tilted her head. “All Might huh?”

Midoriya froze.

“No wonder those two broke up.”

“I,” Midoriya frowned in consternation before he seemed to figure something out and pointed at her accusatorily.

“The Soundtrack told you!” he hissed. Kyoka chuckled. Well, it was his fault for making it such an easy answer to probe for. The Soundtrack cooed at her, okay so maybe it would have told her anyway.

“I’m sorry I couldn't help you more, but different types of precognition have different rules. I just wouldn’t believe someone with complete assurance of their infallibility.”

“But he’s so certain.”

Kyoka smiled ruefully at Midoriya as she reached out for her homework again, “And you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t try anyway. I don’t think impossible is a word you even recognise.”

“Hey Jiro,” Ashido dragged out uncertainly. Kyoka didn’t respond in turn, but not out of malice. She had her headphones in so she could focus on her work, something Ashido was still struggling to notice or respect. Even after months, even with what she was trying to do. “Jiro?”

After a minute and a half of impatient, futile waiting, Ashido took a moment to stamp down her frustration, and was about to start poking her when she finally noticed the headphones. Ashido let out a deep sigh, yeah, that was fair, and she began moving somewhere Kyoka could actually be able to see her.

While the Soundtrack could tell her Ashido was there it wouldn’t tell her that Ashido was trying to get her attention. At least as far as Ashido knew. Kyoka knew that it could, and it was, but she was being petty. If Ashido was going to do this she was going to put the effort into it.

She sat down opposite Kyoka and waved an uncertain hand at her when Kyoka looked up at the movement. She set her work aside and pulled her headphones down to hang around her neck.

“Yes?” Kyoka asked, giving Ashido her full attention for the first time in a while.

“I… I wanted to say, sorry,” she replied, bowing her head shamefaced.

“What for exactly?” Kyoka pushed, raising an eyebrow. Was she milking this? Yes. Was she making sure Ashido had actually learnt something and was apologising for things she wouldn’t do again? Also yes.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you. I’m sorry for crossing your boundaries, even when you’d warned me not to," Ashido forced out in a rushed breath.

“And.”

“And I'm sorry for trying to interfere with your love life, even when you told me not to,” Ashido grumbled. “But-”

Kyoka’s raised eyebrow cut her short.

“It’s just… it never clicked just how much you’ve had to deal with. Or just what you might be hearing until…”

“Until you thought about what the implications of my hearing was,” Kyoka finished feeling something sharp and hot rolling around in her stomach as thorns crawled their way out of her throat. She levelled Ashido with an unimpressed stare and the other girl shifted in her seat uneasily, hot pink skin going a darker rose. “That it wasn’t all fun and games, saucy secrets, sexy scandals and hot goss?”

Which was hard to believe considering what Kyoka had tried to tell her and what she did manage to tell Ashido. Still, it was frustrating and painful and a repeated endeavour.

“I wonder when you came to that realisation. Was it when I was kidnapped for what I could hear? When you found out I could potentially hear the future making my abilities more valuable to villains, explaining the necessity of the dorms, in part,” Kyoka drawled, a bitter bite to her tone. “Or maybe it was when I broke down talking about how I could hear everyone but myself and I let slip that I have oodles of trauma from people not listening to me making me feel worthless, among other implications considering how I treat Mineta, and you felt guilty for contributing.”

Ashido flinched. Kyoka had never come closer to comparing the pink girl’s behaviour to Mineta’s but the barm stuck all the same. The self-interest accusation though-

“Face it Ashido, is this apology for you or me?”

Kyoka froze, snapping her mouth shut. She took a sharp intake of breath and let it out through clenched teeth. Stop reevaluate. You're lashing out. Sure she deserved some flack but you can’t take the last sixteen years worth of rage and spite that you’ve been holding onto out on her.

“Sorry,” Kyoka breathed. “Sorry, that was. That was too much. That was mean of me, sorry.”

“It’s okay. I can take it," Ashido assured bravely. Her lips were stiff, pressed up against her teeth to stop them from wobbling as unshed tears pooled in her eyes. The comical expression made Kyoka soften and chuckle softly. Ashido relaxed.

“But I really am sorry, even if it takes me a while to prove it to you.”

“You can start by not doing it again,” Kyoka pointed out, holding out a hand for her to take.

“Deal,” Ashido agreed, clasping Kyoka’s hand.

Chapter Text

Man, tonight was exhausting, Eijiro thought as he shambled up to the door of the dorms. He and Amajiki had split up at the start of the path to go to their respective buildings, but it had been a long ride back from Kansai and Eijiro had valiantly not slept a wink. Amajiki needed the rest and he would have been too nervous about missing their stop otherwise, it was fine. It wasn't like Eijiro's eyes were already bleary from the incident report. He couldn’t have slept anyway, not with that… something ticking away in the back of his head.

But. Eijiro clenched his fists, lips stretching to reveal a small, satisfied grin, a warm fluttery feeling swirled around in his gut. It felt really good too. He entered the building, knocking the door closed carelessly behind him. Nobody should be downstairs or awake at this hour so it wasn’t like it would bother anyone. Eijiro sighed in heavy relief.

“Welcome back,” a voice called out in the dark. Eijiro startled and would have hardened instinctively if the exhaustion wasn’t like lead in his bones. He turned around sharply, peering into the dark as his eyes adjusted to the light level.

“What are you doing up?” he asked Jiro, hesitantly walking over to her. He’d expected her to have a drink in hand or nearby but instead there was a guitar in her arms and Tokoyami’s dim yellow electric candle on the coffee table. Jiro followed his gaze.

“You just missed Tokoyami,” she admitted. “He was having his ‘dark communion’ but I was waiting for you.”

“Why?” Eijiro and Jiro weren’t antagonistic towards each other, not like she was with Mina anyway, but he wouldn’t say that they were friendly either. They were both friends with Bakugo but he never interacted with the both of them together unless they were with the rest of their classmates. It was clear that he hung out with them for different reasons. Jiro and Koda for quiet, Eijiro for… well he didn’t know. But it was important to him! To them both really, even despite the bumps in the road.

The point was! Kirishima didn’t know why Jiro cared so much to stay and wait for him.

“Your little stunt woke me up,” Jiro shrugged, picking at a chord.

“Oh, I'm sorry?” Eijiro paused. “Wait, I was all the way down in Kansai! How did you hear that?”

“I don’t exactly control what I hear,” Jiro deadpanned. “But I like to keep track of you all and the Soundtrack sometimes indulges me. I won’t hear anything that’s between wherever you are and me, just what’s going on with you. And I gotta say, pretty rocking debut.”

“Thanks,” Eijiro replied. His cheeks were as red as his hair as he turned away sheepishly. Though pride kept his grin on his face.

Jiro chuckled. “You’ve got to learn how to take a compliment, you can’t become a blubbering mess like this all the time.”

“You’re one to talk,” Eijiro teased back, poking her delts. Jiro flushed, turning her head away from him.

“Shut up,” she whined. Eijiro vaulted over the back of the couch to flop down beside Jiro as she continued to play idly.

“Are Tsu and Uraraka?”

“Home safe and sound,” Jiro assured him, miming towards her ear. “They were already back when I came down.”

They lapsed into silence, save for the occasional plucking of strings. Eijiro knew he should probably head up to bed, considering how tired he was, but there was still something gnawing at him. Kyoka’s playing didn’t help either, each string plucked short and quick but the sound held long and sustained. Solitary notes were left to ring out and ask to be answered before everything could collapse and resolve, relieving the tension. Into the silence, without prompting, Eijiro finally answered the call.

“I… I let him trick me,” Eijiro admitted slowly, like the words were being pried out of him. “Twice. He said he wanted to get stronger and… I got that, I got that. He tried to use that to hurt me and get away.”

“Now you’re being too hard on yourself,” Jiro accused. She didn’t look back at him, a concentrated furrow to her brow as she plucked deliberately but hesitantly at her guitar strings. A theme slowly being built between her hands, an echo of what she was hearing. The melody left an odd hum in his chest and somehow Eijiro knew this song was him. “Your strength is impressive, sure, your determination unparalleled. But it's your kindness, compassion and open arms attitude that makes you one of the best of us. Even if you aren’t ‘flashy’.

“Don’t lose sight of that. This class has too many cynics and pragmatists already.”

Eijiro supposed she was speaking from experience, being one of those cynics herself. But that just made her assessment even more precious. It was a rare optimistic view for Jiro to take, especially after everything she’s had to deal with recently. But the praise still ate at something in Eijiro considering the situation with Bakugo; so much for compassion and open arms. The tune she was playing lost some energy, turning unrecognisable and melancholic.

Kyoka stopped playing and reached over to Eijiro's head, bopping him on the crown with the backs of her knuckles.

“I can hear you thinking too hard,” she commented. Ejiro kept his eyes on Jiro’s guitar and couldn’t help but think literally. Which, in hindsight, explained so much about her ability to handle Bakugo. She was able to track his mood and de-escalate before he exploded, meanwhile Eijiro specialised in minimising damage through defence and damage control.

Jiro narrowed her eyes on him. Okay, switching trains of thought now. Then she pulled her hand away.

Eijiro rubbed the top of his head to sort out his hair.

“Thanks. I needed that,” he murmured, rising to stand. He really should get some rest before sunrise. “I’m glad you were here.”

As he wandered away he couldn’t help but hear, between the absent chords, Jiro’s parting comment.

“Maybe that’s why I ended up here tonight in the first place.”

Huh. looks like Jiro could underestimate people's hearing range too.

Chapter Text

Nighteye trailed after Shota as they approached the students after the meeting. The third years had led Shota’s helions to an out of the way table in a nearby side room both to help Amajiki’s nerves and give the local heroes space to coordinate the extent and minutia of their involvement in the investigation with Nighteye and the others in peace. Admittedly they could have gone back to campus on their own, technically dismissed for the day, but with Shota present anyway he figured he’d have them wait and escort them back personally; especially with the problem child, trouble magnet present. Nighteye would now be accompanying them too to talk with Jiro about how she could assist with the investigation, which was bound to be interesting.

As the pair approached they caught the tail end of the students’ conversation, lingering momentarily in the doorway to not interrupt and eavesdrop.

“You knew about Sir Nighteye’s quirk,” Asui declared, looking blandly at Midoriya. Nighteye stiffened beside Shota and Shota repressed the urge to curse. “That’s why you talked to Jiro the other day.”

“Why would Midoriya talk to Jiro about Sir’s quirk?” Mirio asked, and from Nighteye’s raised eyebrow that Shota was ignoring he was wondering the same. Nighteye’s quirk was a secret as tightly guarded as both erasure and (now) the Soundtrack itself. Probably less so considering how the Soundtrack isn’t even on any written records and has so far been more, actively coveted.

“He wouldn’t talk to Jiro at all normally,” Uraraka answered, leaning forwards in her seat as if she was sharing something sensitive. Shota wondered if the deflection was purposeful or not, putting attention on Midoriya's actions over Jiro's involvement. “He tries not to if he can help it-”

The three third year students turned to Midoriya curiously who looked away sheepishly and shuffled around uncomfortably in turn.

“It’s complicated,” he muttered shamefully.

Uraraka continued undettered “- but he came out of nowhere to ask Kyoka if she could change the future!”

“Hear death,” Kirishima contributed.

“And prevent a coming death,” Asui reminded them. Midoriya sank lower and lower in his seat as they talked. Nighteye seemed to know why Midoriya might have found this question pertinent, his expression shutting down even as his face went pale. This seemed more personal than just a response to nightyee’s feat that his quirk was infallible. Shota doubted the other hero would tell him what that was and he wasn’t Jiro, who would have worked around that’d let her find out. A good investigator Eraserhead may be but psychological profiling and that level of social reading was beyond him.

“What did she say? What did she say?” Hado pressed excitedly. Now Midoriya raised his head and rejoined the conversation, determination burning in his eye.

“Yes, and even if you can’t, try.”

“Which is uncharacteristically optimistic of her, kero,” Asui pointed out.

“Right!” Kirishima agreed, jolting forward empathetically. “But she’s been like that recently.”

“But that’s a good thing, right?” Togata beamed. Hado nodded brightly in agreement from beside Amajiki.

“I mean, I guess,” Kirishima returned. Which was odd for him as a member of the class who was high energy and liked to promote enthusiasm and optimism. “It’s just.”

“Odd?” Midoriya offered at Kirishima’s frown.

“Unnerving,” Asui decided objectively.

“Suspicious,” Uraraka added, nose scrunched. Nighteye raised an eyebrow at Shota for further explanation; not the best impression of Jiro admittedly. Shota sighed tiredly, speaking loudly to make their presence known to the students and silencing the conversation.

“Along with locating and tracking people across long distances Kyoka's hearing is so enhanced it allows her to know events and movements that occur seconds to minutes into the future,” he explained to the other hero. That was the official script that Nedzu had decided they were going with anyway. Technically true in every conniving way Kyoka had managed for a decade and a half but still obfuscating the precise mechanics at play. Nighteye narrowed his eyes, the investigator hero clearly picking up something was missing but hesitant to call it out in front of an audience. Nighteye may not have been an underground hero but he understood confidentiality. Shota looked pointedly and sternly at his students. “It is not an ability she likes to advertise.”

Uraraka, Midoriya and Kirishima flushed in embarrassment at being caught while Asui just croaked at him blankly like she hadn’t done anything wrong.

Amajiki looked at Shota hesitantly, “d-do you really think sh-she can help?”

“It couldn’t hurt to try,” Kirishima jumped in confidently.

“It would certainly expedite the process,” Shota agreed.

Nighteye scowled, “I don't see how bringing another person, much less a student into these operations, especially when we aren’t certain they can be of any use is beneficial. The more people who know about what we’re planning on doing the more we risk giving our movements away to the enemy.”

“You brought in one local hero per Shie Hissakai base location and you refuse to use your quirk to assist,” Shota deadpanned.

“She isn’t even participating in a work study,” Nighteye continued as if he wasn’t interrupted. “She has no mentor to monitor her activity and take responsibility for her in the field.”

“She’s my student. If she believes that she can assist then we’ll put her down for a work study with me,” Shota continued, “we aren’t terminating the others’ work studies despite League interference after all.”

Stuck without rebuttal, Nighteye rounded on Togata. “Mirio, you’ve met the girl, what impression did you get of her?”

Togata was surprised to get called on so took a second to collect his thoughts. “Not much sir, she refused to fight me.”

“But!” he continued with a characteristic smile, “afterwards I got the impression that she thinks a lot like you do. Attack the problem from all angles and find the most efficient solution. Even if it isn’t the easiest.”

“Then we will see if she is up to the task.”

“You want me to track down someone I've never met before who can be anywhere across the country,” Kyoka stated rather than asked. Her expression was dry, deadpan, but hiding a dangerous curiosity.

“We’d take you within range of each of the bases,” Mr Aizawa elaborated patiently. His tone was blasé, his theme was effortlessly neutral, his facade was serious. It was a stark contrast to the air and sound of everyone else in the room and made Kyoka narrow her eyes suspiciously at him.

The range wasn’t the problem and Mr Aizawa knew it. Taking into account the secrecy the Soundtrack needed to maintain while disguising it with her desire to go underground, was a nice touch though. Kyoka schooled her expression and leaned back into the couch, arms crossed.

“Sir, you know that’s not how this works,” she accused. It wasn’t how her quirk worked anyway.

“And yet you’ve tracked your classmates across campus before,” Mr Aizawa countered, lips quirking.

But he knew that already too.

There wasn’t a lot of room for her to allude vaguely to her issues though. Kyoka’s gaze flickered to Sir Nighteye, then the Big Three. Something she was going to have to try and do, even knowing it would make her look suspicious, uncooperative and cagey.

Because Mr Aizawa was asking her to use the Soundtrack, directly asking for it. Not just accepting its assistance in support of something she could already, technically, do. But that wasn’t how the Soundtrack worked either.

“Yeah, but I know them.” She used her emphasis carefully, desperately trying to keep any sense of whining from her tone.

She knew her classmates' heartbeats as confidently as she knew her own. How unique biological tics changed something so significantly consistent and invisible so minutely or so much. Tsu’s was slower than average. Tokoyami’s almost three times faster and with a near invisible echo a few microseconds behind. Katsuki’s nitroglycerin induced arrhythmia. Midoria’s anxiety driven jackhammer. How Kaminari’s heart delayed the second pulse. Even those with baseline heart rates and beats had tiny nuanced differences that Kyoka had dedicated a concentrated effort to identifying and memorising. But she also knew their songs and knew them even better. She couldn’t even know ‘Eri’ enough to begin to identify her, much less track her down through a cacophony.

And relying on whatever the Soundtrack was (alone) to assist her was… nerve wracking and potentially unreliable.

“Jiro, please,” someone begged, but Kyoka just bit her lip in consternation.

“Then I see we have wasted our time here,” Sir Nighteye declared resolutely, perhaps a bit smugly. Then he turned to Kyoka with a look of disappointment. “I hope you know that a true hero cannot be so apathetic as to only care about those they know. An innocent is suffering, to leave her when you have the capability to assist is callus.”

He was trying to guilt trip her, that was… that was infuriating. Which was probably the exact opposite emotion than what he was trying to invoke. Kyoka had to hand it to Sir Nighteye though, his poker face was impeccable. But luckily she didn’t need eyes to get a read on him.

His theme was a choir of strings and woodwinds. The melody lilted curiously, always on the hunt for more information while long notes called forth an image of wistful longing from a higher position. Yet the minor key suggested a loss. A lone discordant chord in the progression betrayed hesitance and uncertainty.

Kyoka hated how her heart resonated with its beat. His foresight and her Soundtrack, knowing what came next, feeling helpless to change it. Kyoka because she was Cassandra and a lot of her warnings came too late (because she had spent so long unwilling, scared, to ask until the Soundtrack had definitely thrown the information in her face) and Nighteye out of feat that he couldn’t; there was a reason she didn’t want to learn more about where the Soundtrack came from or how exactly it worked. They were so similar. So similar it hurt to see just how clinical Nighteye had to be. Kyoka supposed that was the Soundtrack’s blessing. The heart of music was emotion and its utility had always relied on her ability to interpret them. No matter how cynical or pragmatic she got, she couldn’t afford to lose her heart.

But the way he looked at her; from on high down his nose as if she were lesser, lowly, inferior. The way he turned his back on her like he’d already decided who she was before she’d made her choice; like closed ears refusing to listen. It made her blood boil. He didn’t know shit, he refused to know. And from what Midoriya had accidentally let slip, his hypocrisy was rampant. Heat built up between Kyoka's ears, drawing on the familiar pounding of Katsuki's themes to keep her under control and stop her from growling.

An edge of anxiety had appeared in the themes of her classmates, but Mr Aizawa's remained suspiciously placid. Even as the third years started to recognise the shift in her behaviour and the room’s air his posture remained relaxed and his theme grew amused.

“Says the man who refuses to use his quirk because of a god complex that makes him believe he can bever be wrong,” Kyoka snapped decisively. Nighteye froze and stiffened but still refused to look at her. “What, too afraid that what you see will be your fault that you’d rather be blind? Some of us don’t have that luxury.”

Visions of hollow eyes flickered through her mind. The memories of fading themes that struck deadly chords in her heart flooded in. The song of the young man she had never met that ate away at himself day by day, giving up too much for nothing until there was nothing left. The highschool girl, barely older than Kyoka whose theme of sorrow drowned out the light until it came to an abrupt end. The themes that changed overnight after screams had gone unheard and unanswered.

The ones that disappeared…

“Togata, Midoriya. Tell me about Eri." Let's see if this works.

“Uh, she’s a young girl with silver hair, red eyes and appears to be around the age children should first be starting school,” Mirio reported objectively, startled at the address. That wasn’t going to be helpful so Kyoka rounded on Midoriya. She hoped she conveyed ‘get emotional’ to the soft-hearted boy with just a stare and a raised eyebrow.

“She was small and scared with these big round eyes that were so shiny I swear she could have filled an ocean with tears. But she was so brave, no matter what she didn't shed a single tear.

“She was brave enough to run away, but also brave enough to go back, just to protect us.

“Every bone and muscle in her body was simultaneously stiff and trembling. Every expression she made haunted," Midoirya provided solemn but impassioned and Kyoka let his words wash over her as she closed her eyes and focused.

She was looking for a simple song, childlike, in a minor key with long sustained notes, haunted. Something metallic maybe? Tsu’s theme poked at the edge of her mind as she pushed her range. Piano for melancholy? Strings always worked for a sad or haunting (elegant and creepy) sound.

Kyoka hummed something she couldn’t hear as she kept sifting through theme after theme, song after song, searching. She tried to keep each interaction brief, light surveys and move on, to save the strain on her mind. But it was a futile effort as she kept pulling further back and cast her attention even further out.

It was like the night Stain attacked in Hosu, white spots floated across her closed eyelids. There was a buzzing behind her ears that she was ignoring, a pressure against her temples that she might have recognised as her own fingers if her body didn’t feel so numb and far away. Except with Stain she’d already had a sample to follow after, here she was grasping at air and loose straws and hope, trying to construct something solid to hold onto.

She pushed again and got no resistance but the strain of stimuli and the weight of empty progress. Kyoka wondered if this was how parents felt, wandering around with pictures in hand begging to know if someone, anyone, had seen their child.

Then the Soundtrack swooped in to assist, bringing to her attention a different theme for her to latch onto, using it to drag her in the direction it thought she needed to be. This theme the Soundtrack had shoved at her wasn’t anything like what she was looking for. Modern trap merged with oriental string riffs and traditional Japanese woodwinds. But it relieved the strain and took her further out of her traditional range, so she’d take the out.

Which is when she heard what she was looking for.

Which probably meant…

The Soundtrack had given her Overhaul’s theme to help her find Eri’s.

Kyoka’s connection snapped off, her perspective narrowed and her consciousness collapsed back into her body as her eyes snapped open.

The smell of copper was the first thing she noticed, vision spotty and unfocused. Then Kyoka noticed that something wet and warm had trailed out of her nostrils and onto her lips. Before she could consciously register that it was blood her tongue had instinctively slipped out to wipe what was on her upper lip away, and iron bloomed across her taste buds.

Mr Aizawa had come around to stand behind her. He was pressing his hands over hers like he’d seen Katsuki do at the provisional licence exam to stop her from hurting herself or her ears. The contact forced her palms against her earlobes and now she could feel the sticky texture of the blood that had trickled out of her ear canals on them. Either way she slipped her hands out of Mr Aizawa's grasp and batted them away restlessly.

“Jiro?” their voice sounded garbled like it was far away and underwater.

“Got it,” she declared. Her voice came out quieter than she’d intended. Her vision had cleared somewhat so Kyoka felt confident enough to stand.

“Jiro?” This voice was sharper and Kyoka turned blindly towards it, giving her concerned peers and the two heroes a feral grin. She was heedless of how her limbs were twitching and spasming like she was filled with buzzing energy, or of how her earth was stained with blood and how that made her look manic.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t?” Amajiki asked cautiously.

Kyoka chuckled, swapping the blood under her nose away with her thumb before absently wiping her hands off on her trousers as she shot Sir Nighteye a vicious, sharp smirk.

“Spite is one hell of a motivator,” Kyoka replied, “and plus ultra and all that.”

Everyone looked at Kyoka with varying degrees of concern, even Mr Aizawa's prior relaxation had been wiped away with a hard frown. Nighteye however, recovered his wits first.

“Then we can begin with their Tokyo base,” he said, clearing his throat.

“After Jiro sees the Recovery Girl and cleans up,” Mr Aizawa asserted, brushing past the other hero harshly to catch up with her. He placed a hand on her shoulder to direct her, using the position to hunch down unnecessarily and whisper in her ear. “When I figure out what you just did, you are never doing it again.”

“Sure, sure, as long as we skip the Tokyo base, I know I pushed my range much farther than that,” Kyoka hummed absently.

Chapter Text

It took Kyoka one and a half days to identify the base that they were keeping Eri in. Frankly it would have been half a day if Nighteye hadn’t insisted they get null readings from the other bases after the positive she got in Osaka but Kyoka could appreciate the thoroughness. A part of her that she hoped was wrong had the spiteful thought that he was being stubborn, too proud to admit that he hadn’t noticed the girl was still in his city. It was better than acknowledging that he didn’t believe her. Considering who he was, what she knew he could do, that would only sting worse.

It took another day to arrange for the heroes to gather. Apparently they thought that it was going to take longer than it had, which kept a smirk on Kyoka's face until they’d all met up at the Nighteye agency.

That isn’t to say Kyoka didn’t do anything on that missing day Nighteye spent making calls. While her classmates continued with their schoolwork she had been pulled aside to speedrun some paperwork with Mr Aizawa to give her clearance to go on this mission as his intern. It didn’t help that whenever she angst about it Mr Aizawa would remind her that it would go away a lot quicker if she wasn’t insisting on reading all the documents cover to cover; but she knew better than that. He still made a point of reminding her that she isn’t obligated to do this.

They’re at the Nighteye agency the next day to go over what they’d found and run through a briefing before meeting up with the police. Kyoka could see her classmates mingling in the crowd of other heroes but she was staying on the sidelines with Mr Aizawa for now. When he silently passes her some Advil and a water pouch she knows that he’s figured out why.

“You know you don’t have to be here,” he reminded her again, and if they weren’t both tracking the U.A uniforms in the room intently Kyoka knew she would have been offended by the ‘lack of faith’. “You’ve done enough just cutting over investigation time down as much as you have.”

“The League might be there?” Kyoka was asking the Soundtrack more than Mr Aizawa. The former gave her a confirming music sting while the latter nodded in the corner of her eye, she appreciated that he wasn’t bothering to ask how she knew that. “I’m the only one who can identify Toga no matter what form she takes. I can identify which League members are present prior to them showing their faces, and if Twice uses his quirk this time around I can see if I can distinguish the real from a clone.

“Besides, someone’s going to make me ‘prove’ my assessment.”

Mr Aizawa turned away from the room to frown at her. Kyoka ignored the blatant concern and kept talking before he could offer a hollow reassurance. Neither of them were paying attention to the brief at this point.

“How much do you wanna bet that Sir Nighteye went and double-checked my work yesterday because he thought I was full of shit.”

“So they didn’t move her at all?” Rock Lock asked in disbelief from the front of the room. “How can you be so sure?”

“Chisaki Kai displays symptoms similar to agoraphobia, particularly a disinclination for going outside,” Kyoka piped up from the sidelines, closing her eyes so she couldn’t see all eyes turn in her direction. “If Eri is his daughter and the key ingredient of his quirk erasing bullets then he’d want to keep her close in a sterile environment that he knows he can control and the Osaka base is the one he’s at almost all the time.”

“You know a lot about Overhaul little girl,” Kesagiri Man commented, and the suspicion stung enough for Kyoka to search him out and stare him down. She kept her body language controlled so that it doesn’t look defensive. Aizawa stepped in to do that for her, drawing up to his full height and reminding everyone just how intimidatingly tall he was.

“Snitch,” Kyoka said with a sneer, raising a finger.

Then she raised a second finger. “You learn a lot when you have a sensory quirk and are eminently forgettable.”

She raised a third finger. “Motherfucker has a file.”

Kesagiri Man glared at Mr Aizawa.

“Eraserhead, control your intern’s tongue.”

Mr. Aziawa raised an eyebrow at him.

“No,” he said dryly.

“How did you confirm he was there?” Fat Gum cut in, refocusing the conversation on Nighteye.

“I followed a member of the Hisaikai to a department store the other day where he made an unusual purchase from the girl’s toy section. It was unlikely he was a collector as he couldn’t correctly identify what series they belonged to, so I assumed he was getting it for the girl.”

Why couldn't he be getting it for his daughter, Nigtheye didn’t say.

“I used my quirk on him and tracked him forward in time. Right to the heart of the Shie Hisaikai base where they’re keeping her.”

Would you look at that, maybe Kyoka should buy a lottery ticket. She felt at least three pairs of eyes on her and scanned the room to find her classmates and Mirio watching her as if they were waiting for another interjection. What? Did they expect her to out her role in this part of the investigation? There wasn’t a point, the Soundtrack had to stay on the down low, Nighteye and Mirio being suspicious but not aware was risking enough. A ‘just trust me’ from an unknown student was unlikely going to garner many of the heroes’ confidences either.

She pointedly shook her head at them. Keep quiet, please.

“Kid.”

“It’s fine.” Kyoka refused to say ‘I'm used to it’; she knew that it wouldn’t help. Besides, it was time to suit up and get to work.

The strike team and the police rendezvoused in front of the police station a few blocks away from the base they were going to be raiding. It was eight am and they were set to go in at half past so they were doing final checks and a coordination brief. Why this couldn’t have been done at Nighteye’s was made obvious by the sheer ridiculous mass of police presence for this mission. It felt… unnecessary. And not as intimidating as they probably thought it would be. The police chief stood before the crowd to give an overview of what they knew and the objectives of the mission.

“Although we don't have an accurate map of the underground hallways, we do know the shortest route to our target, assuming that was the path and the man Nighteye saw take. It’s the best info we’ve got, and the basis of this mission.”

Hearing that Red Riot, Deku, Uravity and Froppy all turned to look at Snitch. Her own jacks were already extending down to the parts in her boots.

“What?”

“Seismic map?” Deku said and Snitch gave a sly grin in response. A tremor reverberated from the soles of her shoes. They were too far away for Snitch to feel out the whole thing, and she didn’t exactly have the time or resources to draw it for the others, but if she used reverb intermittently as they went down she’d be able to keep them going in the right direction. But only if-

“How much do you trust me?”

“It’s a rescue mission,” Red Riot grinned, crashing his fists together, “and you’re our operator.”

“Did everyone get a comms unit in their last costume upgrade?” Snitch checked. Admittedly she already knew the answer. Mei had been chatting about it while they tested some of the new equipment she wanted to add to her utility belt after the provisional licence exam. Most of it was complaining about how basic and clunky the radio design was. But she’d been asked to duplicate it and give them to the members of 1A that didn’t have the fancy bluetooth compatible, closed loop, vocal and auditory assisting equipment that Snitch and her boys did. Mostly by virtue of two of three of them being primarily disability aids. But she couldn’t be sure whether they had decided to bring them with them or not because mei had also complained about not being able to integrate them into pre-existing headwear when she could.

“Yeah, how did you know?” Uravity asked with a frown pulling the piece out of her pocket. She would have to take her helmet off to put it on.

“Did you make a request to Power Loader?” Deku asked as Snitch showed them how to tune to the frequency that Nedzu had her use.

“I know I didn't make the request, my costume just came back with it,” Froppy mused.

“Nah, he’s just a man on a mission,” Snitch dismissed. “... I think.”

The police officers passed a list of current Hisaikai members and their quirks out to the heroes. Why they hadn’t been given this information beforehand was infuriating. Some things can’t be memorised in half an hour. Eraserhead slipped through the crowd of heroes with one of the papers in hand and passed it to Snitch. The others were approached by their own mentors.

“Your job is to stay as close to me as you can for as long as possible,” Eraserhead told her. He pulled a comm unit out of his pocket for her to see before slipping it behind his ear. Snitch signed the frequency they were using for him to tune to before turning her attention to the paper he’d given her. “Keep an ear out for surprises. I’ll make sure you don’t go astray. Any targets of interest?”

“Yu Hajo. Crystals amplify sound depending on how he fights that could be helpful or harmful. Mimic, I can find him no matter what he’s in or where.”

“Shin Nemoto and Chronostasis,” Eraserhead pointed out.

“Avoid the first,” Snitch concluded. “But I can work around the others.”

Eraserhead raised an eyebrow at her.

“How much does he slow someone down by?” Snitch asked, confident in her assessment.

“I don’t know.”

“Well sound moves at the, well, speed of sound. I’ll just keep my jacks in and maximise my area.”

Eraserhead considered it for a moment before nodding and patting Snitch on the shoulder. Then the chief called for them to move out.

Chapter Text

The police approached the compound’s gate ahead of the heroes to deliver the warrant. The Soundtrack blared alarm bells in Snitch’s ears, her echo map backing that up by revealing a six foot block of muscle standing guard behind the front gate.

“Watch out for the door, there’s a big guy who's probably going to punch through at the first sign of trouble.”

“Roger!” her classmates echoed back to her. Eraserhead tensed, his capture scar ready to grab the officers and pull them out of the way.

The intercom hadn’t even gone off before the door exploded outwards, Deku and Eraserhead rushed to get the officers out of the way. Ryukyu transformed to face the behemoth and everyone else started to rush into the compound.

Snitch felt a thread of Eraserhead capture scarf curl tightly around her wrist and shifted her focus entirely to the Soundtrack and her echo maps, trusting Eraserhead to lead her. Nighteye took them down a suspiciously empty hallway. It seems most of the regular goons had been deployed to the courtyard to stall them. He stopped at a lone alcove and was about to open what Snitch could feel was a hidden door until Eraserhead signaled for him to stop.

“Anything,” he asked, releasing his hold on Snitch. She held a note to drown out the courtyard, focusing the Soundtrack below her while she waited for her echolocation’s feedback.

“Three behind that door,” Snitch reported. Their themes weren’t anything to write home about, but the song that permeated the building was dark and screeching. Searching deeper she found a mix of themes she did and didn’t recognise. Of the ones that she didn’t know some were sharp and piercing, others were less melodic more sound effect, one was a traditional shamisen accompanied by steady taiko drums, next to it was a dramatic theme whose beat was held by the ringing of a bell but had rising trumpets drenched in a minor key, like a heroic triumphant return turned undead and sinister. Then, closer to Overhaul and Eri’s themes was a slow and drawn out theme that let notes run and hang unnecessarily as if they were played by clumsy hands fat fingering multiple notes at once to make sloppy work. While she couldn’t be sure Snitch was pretty ready to assume that this one belonged to Sakaki, The Drunk. But what had drawn Snitch’s attention to him in the first place was that his theme was in close proximity to two very familiar songs indeed. Birdsong and piano and something that started and stopped over and over again. “Eleven more deeper in. Overhaul has already gone to grab the girl and is likely heading for a back exit, he’s got a group of five close to his position. Toga and Twice among them.”

“You can identify Toga and Twice but not any of the others,” Rock Lock snarked. Snitch just pretended she hadn’t heard him.

Eraserhead nodded to Nighteye as Centipeder and Bubble Girl got ready to intercept the men behind the door. They were going to stay behind anyway to make sure no one tried to pincer them. Then Nighteye input the code. The wall slid open and three mooks rushed into Centipeder’s waiting arms.

The strike team ran down the stairs and hung a sharp right. The moment Snitch’s foot hit the concrete she let out another sonic blast from the soles of her boots to grab a better echo map of the underground labyrinth only to nearly run into Fat Gum’s back as everyone stopped abruptly in the middle of the hallway.

“I didn’t foresee this,” Nighteye mumbled at a volume that only Snitch could hear.

“It looks like a dead end,” the police chief said and Snitch started inching around people to get closer to the front of the group.

“Believe me, it isn’t,” she rolled her eyes. “Deku, Red Riot. think you can bust through half a meter of concrete?”

Both of them gave her matching determined grins and jumped out from behind Nighteye.

“On it!”

Deku charged his quirk while Kirishima pulled back a hardened fist.

“They’re idiots if they think a wall will stop us!” Kirishima cheered as they struck the concrete simultaneously and cracked a hole in it.

A short haunting song pierced Kyoka’s mind reverberating loudly and darkly in her skull. It set her on edge but also tilted her off kilter since it was muffled and mournful. Shrill distorted cries filled with longing and pain, almost like the howling winds people would mistake for banshees and restless souls.

“Hold your ground,” Snitch warned just before the walls started groaning and concrete around them twisted, bent and tilted.

“Chisaki’s quirk can’t do this,” the police chief called as he stumbled unsteadily into a wall. “It has to be Mimic.”

“But he can't do that on this scale!” Rock Lock argued. He was keeping his balance better than the others, probably a minor, passive side effect of his quirk like Snitch’s own balance was.

“He’s gotta be using trigger,” Fat Gum declared. “Eraserhead, can you stop him?”

“Not if I can't see his body. Snitch, do you have a read on him?”

“Yeah, but he’s deeper in right now.”

“With the passageway shifting and changing like this he can create as many escape routes as they’ll need,” Suneater pointed out.

“This is just a stopgap,” Lemillion declared, striding forward confidently. “They might be able to warp the path forward, but as long as I know the direction of our goal, I can still reach it!”

“Lemillion, come back!” Nighteye ordered but Lemillion just picked up the pace.

“Speed is what matters right now and they know it too, that’s why they’re stalling for time. I’m goin on ahead!”

Lemillion disappeared through the wall as Snitch heard the sting again. Thai time it came from below them and the toggle for her bass jump went online in an instant.

“Look out below us,” she called behind her, already lunging forward with a boosted jump.

The floor opened up beneath the heroes before they could react, dropping them into a room below before sealing back up again. The additional boost from Snitch’s boots launched her to the other side. Mimic took advantage of her separation from the police force to throw up multiple layers of walls between them.

“Now where are we?” Deku groaned. It looked like their radios were powerful enough that the concrete wasn’t causing any interference with their signals for now. That or Mei had made some unapproved upgrades… who was Snitch kidding it was probably the latter, she just had to hope they would hold out.

“Snitch!” Eraserhead called out in concern. Snitch picked herself up from her hasty, sloppy dodge before responding as she looked around her.

“I'm still up top,” she assured him. The walls around her had gone eerily quiet and Snitch tentatively inserted a jack for a more detailed sonic map. Sounds of distress reached her through the wall, cutting her off from the exit and the rest of the force. Seemed like Mimic couldn’t split his attention.

“Try and make your way topside and rendezvous with the Ryukyu agency,” he told her. His quiet, even tone told her he was probably facing a monologuing villain. Snitch’s hand drifted to her utility belt and one of the new gadgets Mei had stocked her up with as she cocked her head to prompt the Soundtrack for guidance. It was scrambled. So much important information to focus on that the Soundtrack couldn’t even decide what should be her prerogative. She narrowed her inquiry towards Lemillion and the target. It gave her back the danger that he was rushing into. His odds weren’t good, six on one at worst when Overhaul was already intimidating enough on his own. The other threats were dispersed randomly throughout the labyrinth and unless either of them attracted mimic’s attention there was no way they’d end up anywhere near them.

“No can do.”

“Snitch,” Eraserhead admonished warningly.

“I mean literally. Mimic’s cut me off from the rest of the force. I can’t afford to attract his attention by going towards him when I'm solo like this, I'm not a destructive fighter,” Snitch reasoned. If there was a perfect time or place to go rogue it was now. “And Lemillion is running towards danger without any backup where a known imposter is waiting.”

“You can’t! With Mimic screwing things up you could get lost!” Red Riot warned, his quiet voice was still pretty loud.

“And how are you going to get through the walls?” Deku argued, now that question made her smile. “If you use your sonic blast it could destabilise the entire underground system.”

“You’re forgetting that I'm the only one with a map,” Snitch reminded them. She pulled a coloured ball from a pouch on her belt. “As for your other question.”

She threw the ball as hard as she could at the far wall that Lemillion had phased through. It exploded on impact creating a hole in the wall. A quick sweep behind her assured Snitch that Mimic was still distracted with the rest of the police force.

“What was that?” Eraserhead demanded as the sound reached their chamber. Snitch grinned Katsuki’s predatory grin.

“High grade structural impact explosions courtesy of hatsume industries,” Snitch dutifully recited as she took off after Lemillion.

“Snitch!”

“You called for me,” she pointed out, voice turning hard and serious. she palmed another explosive as she followed her hearing’s directions. Eraserhead’s group was on the move too, but they were on a pretty serious detour. “I'm seeing this through. I am sick and tired of having to stand on the sidelines and if Lemillion wants to survive this he’s going to need some backup.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Fine,” Eraserhead agreed, resigned and grudgingly. “But stay in contact.”

“Fine.”

Another explosion tore through the wall as she chased after Lemillion into the belly of the beast.

Chapter Text

Eraserhead scanned the walls around them anticipating an attack from any direction. The silence only made him more worried for Snitch and Lemillion. More so Snitch since Lemillion had the ability to get through whatever Mimic threw at him unscathed. Though Snitch’s new destructive capabilities came as a pleasant and convenient surprise; Eraserhead was beginning to see how much of a headache Mei Hatsume gave Power Loader. Even still.

“This part of the building isn’t warping like it was before,” Eraserhead pointed out. “I’d expected Mimic to throw as many obstacles as possible in our way to trip us up. If he’s not it might mean his awareness and control don’t extend to the entire place.”

“So there’s a limit to how much of the building to keep tabs on?” Rock Lock clarified.

“It’s just a theory, but maybe instead of assimilating into it he’s moving around the walls to keep an eye on what’s going on. So when he does take control of an area his body is probably somewhere nearby. If he pokes an eye or ear out to track us that's all it’ll take for me to be able to use my quirk on him and end this madness.”

“But if he isn’t here couldn’t he be messing with Snitch or Lemillion?” Deku asked.

“I’m good,” Snitch cut in, reminding them that the comm line was still open. “All quiet on the Western Front. But you should look out on your left teach.”

Eraserhead was running too fast to stop so quickly and instead threw his entire body weight into a pivot head turning to see a hole in the wall that he hadn’t seen there before gaped at him ominously. Unfortunately Red Riot and Fat Gum had been rushing to intercept him too and the parallel wall that had bulged out to grab him, instead threw the two of them through the wall instead.

“She couldn’t have timed that better,” Nighteye muttered bitterly, and unbidden Eraserhead felt his temper flare. Coming from the man who refused to make use of his precognition unless he knew it would show him what he wanted it was a callous thing to say. The amount of faith that Nighteye was automatically afforded on the basis of his quirk, and his reputation as All Might’s old sidekick, while Snitch was so prepared for people to dismiss her automatically that she built a psychological profile of Overhaul to support her powers’ conclusion.

“She can’t control when she hears things,” he snapped, “and she has her own troubles to worry about right now. Namely your student.”

“Enough of your bitching!” Rock Lock growled, pulling them both into line as he stepped between them. “We have to keep moving!”

Both huffed and turned away from each other but followed after rock lock. They could argue about this behind closed doors later.

Each step that Snitch took down the endless expanse of corridors echoed up and down them repeatedly. The chunky soles of her boots let out a blocky crunch against the smooth surface accompanied by the occasional scuffing of her feet against the grainy surface of the concrete. It almost reminded Snitch of hand drums and maracas but at a marching pace. The deeper she plunged into the labyrinth the colder the air became and the emptier the sound became, a lack of insulation affecting both areas.

Where all she could hear normally was herself, and wasn’t that concerning (how deep and far did these passageways go), the Soundtrack was replete with voices. But the songs that were minutes before so easy and concrete to place now felt like they were floating around in a directional miasma. Lemillion was in front of her, Mimic and Eraserhead and the strike team somewhere to her left, Fat Gum and Red Riot vaguely behind and to the right, Uravity and Froppy behind her but also directly above her.

Through it all she couldn’t gauge distance with the Soundtrack anymore, her quirked hearing couldn’t find anyone in range and she didn’t have time to plug in and amplify. Even her bass boots, which were giving her a perfectly accurate map of her immediate area, didn't have the range to find people. She knew Lemillion was ahead of her, but sound was a particle that passed through him and he blipped in and out of her senses too frequently to do anything but estimate.

Other than Eri there were five themes near Overhaul. Then there were three.

“Twice and Toga coming your way sir,” Snitch reported. She threw an explosive at the floor revealing another hallway beneath her running perpendicular to the one she was standing in and hopped down. Last time she’d done that it was because the Soundtrack had warned her that Mimic was passing by overhead, this time it was because the path she was on was either going to hit a dead end or loop away from her target.

She turned right.

“Got it,” Eraserhead responded, “do you have updates on Fat Gum and Red Riot, he’s not responding to his comm.”

“They’re too far from me to get a physical read on them but they’re still together and aren’t in a fight,” Snitch reported. “I’d assumed he’s just unconscious considering the two unfamiliar themes with them.”

“Are you sure they’re inactive?”

“Battle themes are their own things,” Snitch reminded him in a sing-song tone.

A dramatic melody that slid into the lower register played under Mimic’s sting before they modulated into something like an alarm or a siren. Deku’s uneasy exclamations and Eraserhead’s grunts of discomfort followed down the comm channel shortly after.

“Mimic’s running out of time,” Snitch advised, “be ready for anything.”

Before they could reply the Soundtrack pulled Snitch’s attention down the next left. She rounded the corner and took another map. This time the sonic echo bounced back the positions of four people but five heartbeats. Snitch could only assume, after homing in on Lemillion’s theme, that she’d caught the echo image as he was phasing through something, and that someone was carrying Eri. Either way she was close.

“Closing in on the target, going radio silent,” Snitch informed the others, turning the connection off from her side, considering the action Mimic was keeping them distracted with.

A few steps later Lemillion’s heartbeat came into range.

Snitch doubled her pace.

He’d finally come out of intangibility. He’d also stopped moving, right in front of Overhaul. Even with Toga and Twice elsewhere he was still walking into a fight outnumbered.

And Snitch didn’t like his odds.

Chapter Text

Snitch hurried to the end of the hallway and paused before stepping out into the open intersection.

“I took a shortcut. Give me the girl, I'm here to rescue her,” she heard Lemillion’s voice say from her left. With her back pressed firmly against the wall she peered around the corner in that direction to observe the situation, only to find herself staring at the back of the green jacket and white cloak rather than Lemillion’s red cape.

While Snitch had been following Lemillion’s theme through the underground labyrinth her inability to phase through solid rock and limited supply of explosives had necessitated she take a couple of detours. She’d used her seismic mapping for some of that but had mostly relied on the Soundtrack to get her where she needed to go simply because of how big the system was. It seemed that trust had paid off as the Soundtrack had dumped her ahead of Overhaul in the perfect position to cut him off. Even if that was inadvisable.

As Overhaul and Lemillion talked, Snitch continued to observe what they would be getting into. Sakaki was lurking on the ceiling, legs wrapped around one of the pipes and, presumably, a bottle of liquor in hand.

Then, across the hall from her in a side corridor just like the one Snitch was in stood a figure in a black cloak. Luckily for Snitch he had his back to her, also watching Lemillion and Overhaul himself, and his hallway was a few steps ahead of hers. His theme was filled with a lot of echo and reverb effects though the song itself was almost like a lullaby in nature.

The final person, the one in the white cloak, was holding Eri. His theme was enough like clockwork, making music out of the turning of gears and simple piano steps for Snitch to identify as Chronostasis now that she was close enough to hear it better where before it almost entirely disappeared inside of Overhaul and Eri’s themes.

“I’m not getting through to you,” Overhaul sighed, resigned. All the while his theme was spiking dangerously. “Allow me to be clearer, you’re going to die down here.”

He and Chronostasis turned around and Snitch was forced to duck back behind the wall to avoid being spotted. While she and Lemilion had better odds together, Snitch was not naive or reckless enough to rush into a direct confrontation. So she sat and listened as Chronostasis and Overhaul got closer, as Lemillion tried to strike but listed to the side under the effects of Sakaki's quirk.

“Feeling drunk? Your legs look shaky and you’re swaying," Sakaki slurred, " I feel the same, that’s why I'm up here. Stand too close to me and you’ll catch my drunkenness.”

Snitch heard the man in the black cloak step out into the corridor as Overhaul and Chronostasis walked by him. He took a shot at Lemillion who didn’t notice he was there until after the bullet had fired, but he still dodged it easily.

“What’s your quirk,” the man in the black cloak compelled and Snitch heard the echoing reverb of his theme, obviously representative of his quirk, leak into his voice. Nemoto then.

“I see, that explains why you made it this far so quickly.”

Snitch held her breath and pushed herself flush against the wall at her back, willing the shadows to swallow her whole and pulling the Soundtrack close. Overhaul and Chronostasis appeared in her peripheral vision without a care. Time felt like it slowed, the Soundtrack diminished to near silence in its own anticipation as their footsteps echoed dramatically in Snitch’s ears.

A piercing red eye stared at her from between a curtain of silver, the only one to have spotted Snitch’s presence. The fabric of Chronostasis’ cloak bunched up where Eri's hand was tucked against his chest. Snitch slowly raised a finger to her lips in silent acknowledgement, giving Eri a playful wink and hoping that the kid wouldn’t bring any attention to her. Big eyes widened even more and Eri bowed her head towards Snitch, burying it deeper into Chronostasis’ arms. The two men passed her by and Snitch counted five seconds for them to walk further into the dark hall before letting go of her breath and turning her attention back to Lemillion.

“-I’m the only one who fully understands the young boss’ ambition.”

Only to find Nemoto in the middle of monologuing. With the pair thoroughly off guard, Snitch stepped out into the hallway fully. Her jacks plugged into the amplifiers on her wrist, lifting them off of her gloves as she shot one at Nemoto and the other up towards Sakaki before letting out a blast of sound at the both of them.

Sakaki was so shocked by the blast that it knocked him off the ceiling; the concussive force of the sound also helped. Nemoto stumbled forwards before whipping around to face Snitch.

“Who are you?” He demanded the echo of his quick thick and heavy.

“The Snitch that just ruined your day,” slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them, but she let a smirk paint her features anyway. Because Nemoto had taken his eyes off of Lemillion who used Snitch’s diversion to hit Nemoto in the back of his head, the man crumpled to the ground like a puppet without strings.

Sakaki set up unsteadily, behind Lemillion, hands flashing with the reflective glint of knives in them.

“Lemillion!” Snitch warned, throwing one of her own knives at her partner. Lemillion caught on quickly slipping through the ground and allowing her knife to strike true, forcing sakaki to abandon his own throw and giving Lemillion the opening to knock him out too.

Lemillion promptly sunk back into the ground and Snitch could hear him rushing after Chronostasis and Overhaul. Snitch’s jacks click out of her amplifiers and into her boots and she boosts down the hallway after him.

She couldn’t send a full force soundwave at them without hurting Eri too, but if she turned the volume and force down a few degrees she could at least get their attention. They turned to face her and Snitch saluted them, pleased as punch. Then Lemillion rose out of the ground behind them.

“Chisaki!” he shouted, swinging widely at Overhaul who dodged easily, but hit his real target with the kick that he was aiming at Chronostasis’ face. The kick sent Eri flying and Lemillion rushed to catch her easily, using his momentum to slide back down the corridor towards Snitch.

“Please don’t,” Eri begged, curling in on herself. “Go back, leave me, otherwise he’ll kill you.”

“I’m never going to let you down again, Eri. I swear it,” Lemillion told her confidently and Snitch felt like she’d missed something. “I will be your hero.”

He raised his head to stare Overhaul down. His rock ballad theme shifted into his pure rock battle theme.

“I won’t waver. I’m going to make sure he has a reason to smile. Until she can, I won't stop.”

“Filthy,” Overhaul muttered, wiping at the part of his face that Lemillion had grazed. “Come back Eri. How many times do I have to tell you that it’s your fault? You break people, that’s just the way you were born.”

Snitch noted how he was trying to break Eri’s resolve more than Lemillion’s, though she could feel her partner reacting to the statement more.

“Go, hurry,” Eri begged, but Lemillion’s grip grew tighter. Snitch stepped towards them lightly, afraid that Lemillion would drag Eri into battle with him if this kept up.

“She’s right,” Snitch muttered, reminding Lemillion that she was here and he wasn’t alone. “We have our target, let’s get out of here.”

Lemillion stood up and Snitch felt relief wash over her as she thought that they'd start retreating. Then he dropped Eri into her arms. Why were all her classmates so stubborn?

“Go, I'll hold him off,” Lemillion told her resolutely. Like they weren’t both faster than Overhaul. Admittedly interference was a good idea, especially with how Overhaul’s own theme was rising dangerously. So Snitch nodded, tucked Eri into her chest and started booking it in the other direction.

“You know how this goes,” Overhaul called, still addressing Eri. “I always have to get my hands dirty because of your selfishness! Every action you take results in people dying, you're a cursed human!”

Eri curled deeper into Snitch’s body.

“How could you say that to your own daughter!”

“Huh, oh right. That’s the story I told you.”

Snitch landed and pivoted, knowing that the ground was going to shake apart before it even did. She didn’t want to be dodging shit she couldn’t see.

“I have no daughter.”

Overhaul’s hand slammed into the ground. Flakes and shards of concrete peeled and shattered into the air before reforming into twisting spikes and spires meant to skewer them. Snitch dances around them nimbly, her forewarning the only thing keeping her almost entirely unscathed from the attack; the reinforced fibers of her costume also helped, thank Mei. Overhaul was also proving to be smarter than any other villains Snitch had faced before because he’d blocked off her exit with that move too. Of course, one of Snitch's explosives might be able to break through the hasty wall he’d thrown up. But with Eri taking up both of her arms she couldn’t be able to grab at them.

“Hold onto me okay?” Snitch told Eri, shifting her over to one arm. Eri nodded hesitantly, wrapping her arms around Snitch as she slipped an explosive from her belt into her hand.

“You could have hurt her!” Lemillion was saying, barely throwing a glance back at Eri and Snitch.

“Oh, that wouldn’t have been a big deal,” Overhaul grinned dismissively. “If I put her back together immediately then I can revive her, even if she’s not exactly the way she was before.”

His theme swelled again and Snitch was ready for spikes to erupt out of the ground again. Overhaul’s gaze found her but his focus was entirely on Eri.

“Eri already knows what I can do.”

Eri’s grip on Snitch tightened and Snitch obligingly shifted her stance to put more of herself between Eri and Overhaul. Overhaul’s hand hit the ground and the terrain shattered and reformed again. Snitch twisted and filtered between the moving ground and rising stalactites, kicking off a few for some airtime and parkouring around some of the extraneous debris.

“What will you do if Eri gets injured?” Overhaul gloated. “Under these conditions I'm the only one who can heal her. So are you two going to fight me or what?”

Lemillion looked just about ready to take that challenge but Snitch was more focused on how Overhaul tilted his head in Chronostasis’ direction, who himself was being suspiciously quiet.

“Aim for the arm wrapped around Eri,” he muttered and Snitch could hear the click of Chronostasis’ gun. “I’ll clear your shot and keep hero boy distracted.”

Overhaul shattered the spikes he’d created between Snitch and Chronostasis while throwing another volley of attacks at Lemillion, blocking him from view.

Snitch locked her attention on Chronostasis and as soon as she heard him pull the gun’s trigger threw the explosive pellet at the approaching bullet. The pellet exploded on impact with the bullet, creating a massive smokescreen that Snitch used to find a hiding spot among the massive spikes and spires out of Overhaul and Chronostasis’ way. She crouched low behind a close cluster of spikes, peering around either side to keep track of the battlefield around her.

“I’m sorry, this isn’t what I wanted!” Eri blubbered, shaking in Snitch’s arms. “He’s going to kill you now and it’s all my fault. I told you to just leave me alone.”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Snitch tried to comfort the girl but she wasn’t as optimistic as Lemillion or Deku or Red Riot could be, her ability to comfort and inspire was limited to polite small talk or personal aggrandisement. The former wouldn’t help here, the latter they didn’t have time for and honestly Snitch didn’t know if they could win this either. Right now she was doing all she could to buy time by playing keep away and hide and seek.

Blessedly Eri panicked pretty quietly, which was probably the trauma but was something to deal with later, and Lemillion made an effective distraction balancing keeping Chronostasis engaged while stopping Overhaul from touching the ground. He’d even taken Chronostasis’ gun out of the picture by breaking it. But Eri was starting to fight against Snitch’s hold, and that was asking for trouble. So without any better ideas about how to settle her Snitch did the only thing she could think of. She kept her voice as low and soft as possible, searched the Soundtrack and her memories, and started to sing.

“Catching that smell in the air, reminds me of your hair but still I danced though I felt a pain deep inside of me. It gets so hard to fake a smile everyday, maybe it's best if I just hide my face away.”

Singing without musical accompaniment would always be weird. But it would also be something Snitch would never have to worry about. As the lyrics started to pour out of her mouth the Soundtrack caught on pretty quickly and amusedly pulled the matching instrumentals she’d written these words for. One thing about the Soundtrack was that, even if, for her, it didn't have a song to sing it would never leave her to sing alone.

“You won’t lay a finger on her. I’ll take on anyone I have to!” Lemillion declared.

“Like waking from the baddest dream. It happened suddenly. I must have grown up and was stronger than I once seemed."

Snitch, so focused on doing this piece justice despite the circumstances, never noticed how Eri stilled looking up at her with awe and wonder. The Soundtrack wrapped around them as the song swelled and Snitch had to consciously remind herself to keep her voice down.

“You’ve lost this fight, Chisaki!”

“Not long ago I was afraid of everything. They thought, ‘this crybaby would never sing.’”

“Hey don’t you go tell a single soul. Can’t believe I said those words. I lost all control. I scream and shout but it won’t mean a thing. Just like the future, getting so far away it’s disappearing."

The Soundtrack became echoey, fading out Snitch’s instrumentals in favour of Nemoto’s theme.

“Master!” Nemoto cried out suddenly. The new voice cut off Snitch’s singing but Eri had calmed down enough by that point for it not to be a problem. Overhaul glanced over at his subordinate and pulled out the case of quick erasing bullets, throwing it in his direction. Lemillion’s eyes tracked the box that flitted across his vision, falling for the distraction Overhaul had created to disguise his real plan; finding Eri.

“Nemoto shoot!” Overhaul ordered, hearing that Lemillion kicked him away and pivoted to chase after the bullets. This left Overhaul free to shatter the spikes and clear the field, leaving Snitch and Eri out in the open

Nemoto loaded one of the bullets into his gun. He quickly abandoned the thought of trying to shoot Lemillion, who was fast approaching him, and trained his shot on Eri and Snitch instead. The bullet flew by Lemillion before he could reach it so he continued towards Nemoto, kicking the gun out of his hands and slamming his head into the ground to knock him out.

“Snitch!” Lemillion screamed as Overhaul started to cackle.

Forearms, knees, upper body.

Snitch kept Eri’s position against her in mind and shifted slightly, so that the bullet was forced to hit her in the chest.

“You’re diseased! Your quirks allow you to dream you’ll become something bigger!” Overhaul ranted maniacally, “but that way of thinking is a disease of the mind. I’m offering the world a cure.”

Snitch bowed her head and grabbed the red shell that had fallen to the ground. She slipped it into an empty pouch on her belt, very careful to not let Overhaul see before shifting one leg so that it was pointed in Overhaul’s direction.

“Ironic isn't it?” he asked rhetorically, now turning to sneer at Snitch. “You came here to save this girl, and it’s her power that will end everything you’ve come to rely on, you powerless-!”

An explosion of sound erupted from Snitch’s boot, slamming into Overhaul, cutting off his dramatic speech and throwing him off of his feet.

“What? Impossible!” Overhaul screeched, and, well. No, it really wasn’t. See, Mei was very diligent when it came to all of Snitch’s gear, not just her gadgetry. So safety equipment had gotten a massive upgrade during their redesign before the provisional licence exam resulting in a graphene-kevlar weave jacket and polyethylene chestplate. A bit overkill, but then again it wasn’t Snitch’s fault that other heroes wore so little armour in their costumes.

Lemillion followed up by rushing to attack him, throwing Chronostasis at him to block his line of sight. Snitch glanced down at Eri as Lemillion engaged Overhaul in a fist fight. From the turning tides of the Soundtrack she was about to have to do a lot of dodging.

“Let’s move,” Snitch grinned at the girl, rising to stand.

Overhaul’s rage had him throwing an insane number of spikes and spires. The ground rose and dropped, looking to trap her in the sky or down a pit. The onslaught was so overwhelming that even mr intangible was struggling to keep up, and he was at the centre of Overhaul’s attention.

Snitch was struggling to keep up from the far side of the room, but she had the Soundtrack to forewarn her and a thick jacket and pants to absorb most of the damage and even then Overhaul landed some lucky hits in. The upper arm of her jacket sleeve was sporting a massive tear and she’d lost one of her kneepads when a spire had snapped out at her leg. Lemillion was looking bloody, with a gash in his side and Overhaul had just landed a lucky hit on his calf, dropping the hero to his knees.

But Deku, Eraserhead and Nighteye’s themes had steadily been drawing closer. A rocking, bass heavy battle theme kicked up as their themes unified and they drew closer. There was a faint ticking of a clock in the background giving Snitch a countdown. Before Overhaul could follow up with another onslaught, Deku smashed his way through the wall, wreathed in lightning. The bass dropped with a screech. Snitch heaved a relieved, exhausted exhale.

Finally.

Chapter Text

Deku dove straight at Overhaul. Nighteye rushed to Lemillion’s side and Snitch pivoted to meet them, tapping her communicator back on. A repeating, dark motif built up in the Soundtrack, almost reminiscent of the iconic Jaws theme, signifying the shark approaching. So Snitch refused to let her guard down, no matter how close this fight looked to being over.

“Overhaul is in the middle of a third act breakdown, he’s going to be far more aggressive and reckless than usual. Stay on your toes for something desperate.”

“Acknowledged,” Eraserhead replied simply before addressing Deku as they soared into the room. “He’s backed into a corner. It’s up to us to finish this.”

Snitch bounced to a stop at Nighteye and Lemillion’s sides. Lemillion was leaning heavily on his mentor and Snitch spared a glance at the gruesome wound on his leg. Nighteye had lost his shirt somewhere since they’d split up and she tensed when he also turned to give her and Eri a once over.

“You’ve both done well,” he praised them, then he leaned into Lemillion’s ear to mutter, “I’m so proud of you.”

Okay, that was rude. It wasn’t like Snitch would have really appreciated those words from him anyway, but still it felt backhanded.

The ticking in Snitch’s ear sped up.

“It’s time to get up, Chrono!”

A strand of hair shaped at the tip like an arrow shot out of the top of Chrono’s hood. Eraserhead twisted around and used his capture scarf to throw Deku out of the way. The momentum of Deku’s weight threw Eraserhead to the side slightly too, but not enough to avoid being grazed by the arrow as it cut through his shirt.

Midoriya charged at Overhaul, moving as fast as he possibly could, trying to reach him before Eraserhead was forced to close his eyes as he fell through the air in slow motion.

“Those pierced by the long hand will find their movements slowed. I meant to get both of you.” Chronostasis shrugged, “but that’s heroes for you.”

Overhaul hit the ground with his quirk before Deku had a chance to hit him, raising a barrage of spikes outwards from his central position. This time the spikes weren’t aimed to skewer but rather to reposition everyone. Which was how Snitch found herself having to awkwardly balance on a cone of concrete with Eri in her arms as she’s lifted into the air and Lemillion and Nighteye are thrown in another direction. As soon as the rocks stopped moving Snitch surveyed the area and carefully jumped back down to flat ground before taking a seismic map.

Chronostasis had used the confusion to make off with Eraserhead, dragging him into a room even further below this vaulted chamber Overhaul had created. Lemillion and Nighteye weren’t too far away from Snitch’s current position, just a couple left turns and awkward climbing over and around a few spikes if she needed to get to them quickly. Deku was still in her line of sight, having a bird's eye position from his near suspended state in the sky. From what Snitch could tell his arms were pinned and his chest was braced but he was working on it. What was most concerning was Overhaul freeing Nemoto and tossing his unconscious body closer to himself.

Then something weird happened, and that’s by Snitch’s standards. Overhaul’s theme became more prominent in the Soundtrack, supplanting the others. Except for Nemoto’s. Nemoto’s theme contorted to complement Overhaul’s theme before it was - and this was the only way Snitch could describe it - consumed by it. Nemoto’s melody disappeared and that had Snitch faltering and choking already. Then a massive light filled the arena and Snitch looked over to see Overhaul, crackling with black energy, reforge his body and sprout a pair of extra arms out of his back. In the Soundtrack Overhaul’s theme took on Nemoto’s echoic and reverberating quality. Not a great thing on Snitch’s ears from a theme already filled with a lot of long sustained notes making it just sound shrill.

Ultimately what looked like fusion to everyone else sounded like cannibalism to Snitch.

“Cleanliness is an obsession of mine, when someone contaminates me with their filth I lose control.” Overhaul looked at his new limbs appraisingly. “It’s never gone quite this far before though.”

His gaze shifted to scan the expanse of spikes searchingly.

“I don’t know why you didn’t lose your quirk when my masterpiece hit you, little girl,” he called out, voice bouncing off the cold stone walls and across the wide empty space, “but I'll tear you apart to find out why if I have to!”

The spikes everywhere shattered. Deku was freed, Nighteye and Lemillion were dropped briefly and abruptly from the sky and Overhaul had visual on Snitch and Eri. With their cover blown away Snitch stuttered a few steps but found herself too shocked to move. Overhaul sent a wave of spikes right at her and all she could do was cover Eri and brace.

Until Deku came flying through the air to intercept the attack and drive a piece of rock into Overhaul’s hand. Snitch shook off her stupor and sprinted to Lemillion as Nighteye charged at Overhaul himself, small metal objects flying from his hands that the yakuza boss grabbed easily.

“Stand down Deku, I'll deal with him!” Nighteye ordered. “You and Snitch look out for Lemillion and Eri.”

Snitch gently set Eri down on her feet as Deku reached them, taking out her knife and cutting Lemillion’s cape off. Lemillion watched her warily, mouth hanging open with a silent question that he wasn't brave enough to ask as she gathered the fabric and knelt down in front of him. Deku skidded to stop at Eri’s side, giving her a check over as she watched Snitch warily.

“Lemillion, how baldy are you injured? Do you think you can walk?” Deku asked, hands hovering uncertainly. Lemillion pulled his brave face back together as he batted Snitch’s worrying hands away before she could wrap his side up.

“Yeah, no problem,” he said, smiling weakly as he tried to stand.

“Bullshit,” Snitch hissed. The moment he tried to put weight on his injured leg he flinched and would have fallen over if Snitch wasn’t expecting it and ducked under his arm and into his side to support him. She held Lemillion’s cape out to Deku. “At least wrap his leg before it bleeds out and gets infected.”

“I’m fine,” Lemillion dismissed, stopping Deku from grabbing the fabric before turning to Eri. “But I failed, you’re sad again and it’s my fault.”

Kyoka glanced at him incredulously before shooting Deku a deadpan look.

“He’s delirious from blood loss,” she concluded. Snitch pulled one of Lemillion’s arms down around her shoulder and threw her other arm around his waist. She ignored the wet, sticky blood that coated her fingers, instead focusing on using her jack to point out a thin spot in the walls for Deku. “Could you get the door for us please Deku?”

“Ah, right,” Deku nodded, bouncing to his feet and kicking a hole into the wall. He turned left, then right, then turned back to Snitch gesturing left down the hall. “This will lead us back?”

Snitch checked her map quickly before nodding as she helped Lemillion make his way to the hole. Lemilion corralled Eri forward using the free arm on his other side. She glanced over to the blood soaking Lemillion’s costume and painted across Snitch’s fingers.

“No, that’s enough,” Eri whimpered. “I’m so sorry.”

Snitch threw the red fabric in Lemillion’s hands at the little girl who grabbed it like a lifeline out of sheer confusion.

“There’ll be time for tears later.” she started to drag Lemillion forwards, Deku watching their backs. “Right now we survive.”

But when they were turning the corner Deku let out a broken gasp, eyes trained on Nighteye. Snitch heard both of their heart rates accelerate dramatically, before Nighteye’s dropped dangerously accompanied by the sound of cut strings. Lemillion looked over himself and immediately froze. Snitch squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for a loud shout.

“No!”

The crackle of lightning filled Snitch’s ears. Her eardrums popped from a rapid shift in air pressure and Deku was on the other side of the room facing Overhaul down. He took a breath to turn back to them.

“Take her!” Deku called. “Get Eri to safety.”

Snitch nodded and started pulling Lemillion and Eri away.

Chapter Text

“You. Are a lot heavier than you look,” Snitch heaved as they shuffled down the hallway.

“Leave me here,” Lemillion decided. “Go and take Eri and find somewhere to hide.

Snitch paused, looking up at Lemillion’s slumped, tired expression.

“Wait for help. Dozens of people are trying their best to save you. So just hide and you’ll be okay. Just go.”

Right, so he was still just talking to Eri. Even still she found it infuriating that he was insinuating that Snitch should do something that he’d never do himself. Admittedly it was strategically sound. But Snitch was getting sick and tired of being ignored and sidelined, forced to be a bystander to other peoples’ pain. Snitch felt heat rise from her stomach and into her throat and cheeks.

“This is a rescue mission,” Snitch asserted, swallowing her more biting words, “completing it means saving you too.”

Before they could get moving again Overhaul’s voice echoed through the halls. It had the same quality to it that Nemoto’s had when he activated his quirk and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening or how he was doing it. Still, Snitch couldn’t help the bile that filled her mouth.

“Someone else is about to die because of you,” Overhaul purred. Eri, who had been pretty still thus far, began trembling so hard that Snitch could feel it from Lemillion’s other side. “Is this what you want?”

Overhaul’s voice rippled over them in waves, raising the hair on the back of Snitch’s neck and sending shivers down her spine. It left a heavy weight on her tongue even though the question hadn’t even been directed at her.

Eri pulled away from Lemillion and turned to look back the way they came.

“I have to-”

“No, you can’t!” Lemillion objected, grabbing at his cape to keep her there.

“Let me-!”

The Soundtrack filled Snitch’s perception. Eri’s theme circled Deku’s building to something triumphant that could overwhelm Overhaul’s where, in its absence, Deku was the one being overwhelmed. Snitch felt her jaw click. But the Soundtrack persisted. It started like Eri’s theme, a simple repeated melody on a xylophone, or something similar, mixed with ominous sound effects underneath before the bass and string kicked in. Dark and foreboding, they took over the score until the brass section jumped in, overpowering everything and taking charge of the drums as it was accompanied by the xylophone line. The Soundtrack let the song peter out before it could finish, bringing Snitch’s attention back to Eri.

Her violins started climbing, soft piano replaced the xylophone, creating a more muted sound but less tinny, confident. Snitch looked over at Eri and recognised the look on her face. She let her shoulders slump with a resigned sigh. She knew that face, she knew that resolve. She saw it in Deku’s eyes every goddamn day. She refused to admit she’d seen that expression on her own face, the heart wrenching fear, the hesitation to reach out, the conflict between stay or go tearing you apart from the inside; she refused to see herself. Damn bleeding hearts that refused to back down.

“You’re not going to be able to stand aside while people get hurt, aren’t you?” Snitch asked rhetorically. She never wondered if she was really asking that question to herself.

“What?” they both asked, startled. But Snitch just pressed on. She slipped out from under Lemillion’s arm and pushed him so that his back was leaning against the wall.

“Good, because so am I.” She reached out a hand for Eri to take. “Let’s go.”

“Snitch, this is insane!” Lemillion objected, trying to step towards them. The moment he put weight on his bad leg he stumbled and was forced to lean back into the wall.

“Why are you helping me?” Eri asked as she hesitantly reached out to take Snitch’s hand, glancing briefly at the wide-eyed Lemillion.

“Helping you risk your life, you mean?” Snitch clarified meanly to express her displeasure with this plan before letting her tone soften. The Soundtrack hadn’t steered her wrong before, and even if she didn’t like to think about where it was from or what it was the Soundtrack was still hers. “Let’s just say I know what it’s like, being forced to stand aside while you watch people get hurt, knowing you could do something to stop it.”

Knowing that it wouldn’t matter if you did.

“Even if it won’t,” she told Eri pointedly.

Eri shook her head, pulling Lemillion’s cape closer around her. “If I go back he won't hurt them anymore.”

“He will, you know it’s true,” Snitch argued gently. “Confession forces you to tell the truth, not him.

“And he’s wrong, about it being your fault I mean.”

“But you’re here for me,” Eri pointed out, and Snitch could hear the self-flagellation in her head.

“Exactly, for you, not because of you.” It was a distinction without much difference, but Eri didn’t need to know that. “We’re here because sacrificing ourselves to save others is what makes us…”

Snitch paused trying to find the right word she wanted to use. Hero wouldn’t connect and considering it was part of the job description it didn’t quite reflect how noble it was. Besides Deku, Snitch, Red Riot, who knows how many people, they had all been like this long before they were heroes. Right didn’t work either, it still made it sound like an obligation, they didn’t have to, they chose to. Brave hid the humanity of the situation and didn’t show how carefully considered these choices were. That's the ticket, wasn’t it? Doing this? It’s always a choice. Which means there was only one word Snitch could use.

“Good.”

“Good?” Eri echoed.

“Yeah,” Snitch nodded, confidence hardening. Then she looked down at Eri, squeezing her hand, “and considering that’s exactly what you’re trying to do right now. I’d say you must be pretty good too.”

They arrived back at the hole they’d left Overhaul’s arena from. Snitch let go of Eri’s hand and smiled when the girl looked up at her, confused. Snitch nodded her head at the entrance before darting in ahead of the girl on light feet. Just a little head start, a little out of sight, before Eri plucked up the courage to step through herself. Snitch tried to avoid glancing over at Nighteye unless she wanted to make herself queasy. Her quirked hearing let her know that he was still alive, even though his vitals were deteriorating. His theme was still playing, and it hadn’t changed its composition at all, but what once was sung by a choir of strings had fallen away to a single soloist making the brief flashes of woodwinds more haunting than they once were, emphasising even more the isolation of his theme.

“Stop!” Eri called, clutching the red fabric that was wrapped around her at her heart firmly. “I don’t want this.”

Deku spotted Snitch coming while Overhaul was distracted by Eri. He tried to pick himself up but the spikes in his leg and arm stopped him from moving too much. Which said a lot considering this was the guy who could keep moving like it was nothing with multiple broken limbs. Above them Snitch could hear Ryukyu’s battle being waged. The muffled themes of Froppy and Uravity accompanied her. But she could also heart the groaning of assault and concrete, already dangerously compromised by the fight below.

“Snitch!” he hissed laboriously. “What are you doing here, you need to get her back to Lemillion.”

Snitch hummed dismissively, using her knife to cut the already torn sleeve of her jacket up. She levered the spike in his leg out of his body and used her fabric to put pressure on the wound and seal it off from the elements.

“You should know by now,” Snitch said simply, “that you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

The wave of confession’s particular sound quality washed over them. Deku’s eyes docked back on Overhaul and Eri, and while Snitch was still unnerved by it she ignored it to roughly patch up Deku’s arm.

“This is her fight more than it’s been either of ours,” she whispered in Deku’s ear. “She has to find the strength to save herself.”

God, she hoped the Soundtrack was right about this. Snitch’s gaze scanned the far side of the arena, a jack plugged into the ground just to see. If things went wrong, well, it was always good to have a backup plan.

She let Deku push her out of his way as he stood in between Overhaul and Eri. His theme rose with his determination shifting into something familiar but new. which , his theme had changed four times now since Snitch had met him; though Kyoka had missed when the change to the second interaction had occurred because, well… Kamino. The first had been fast paced, violins promising something heroic with a melody that mimicked All Might. The second had a very pop twist to it, still rising and triumphant but also less classically heroic. The third had popped up before the provisional licence exam and was the one Snitch felt suited him the best. It took after the first but felt less derivative adding heroic brass into the mix because he deserved it. But as the third theme bow built to its string solo Snitch could anticipate the entire piece slowing to a crawl and stitching in something new.

“Maybe what you’ve said is true. Maybe you think you don’t want my help.”

The buzz of static filled Snitch’s ears and she took a couple steps back.

“But I'm not letting anyone die here!”

The Soundtrack swiftly flickered over to Ryukyu’s theme and Snitch minded the cracks forming in the ceiling as she planned her route and looked for a safe space to land. She noted Twice and Toga’s themes were above next to a theme she took a second to figure out was just Mr Compress’ but in reverse.

“I’m going to save you Eri!”

And there was the ceiling collapse.

Chapter Text

Uravity and Froppy landed nearby Snitch and she hopped up to join them. They scanned the area; any structures that Overhaul had made previously were now decimated under the size and weight of Ryukyu’s form. Uravity’s gaze landed on Deku.

“Wait, if Deku’s here then-” she looked up frantically, scanning the mouth of the hole they’d come from. Snitch tapped the Soundtrack before pointing over Uravity’s shoulder at where the bird song and piano were coming from.

“Toga.” Uravity cursed under her breath at being tricked. “We have comms, why wouldn’t Deku have used that to contact you?”

“Uravity, look,” Froppy interjected, pointing out Nighteye’s pierced body collapsed on the ground a few feet away. Ryukyu’s crash had dislodged him from his upright position, breaking the spike that had pierced through his stomach free from the floor.

“Go take care of Nighteye!” Deku called back as he raced towards Eri. Overhaul’s sting flew through the Soundtrack.

“Deku!” Snitch called down the comm in warning. The ground around Eri cracked and a pillar of concrete lifted her up into the air towards the open ceiling that was now, obviously, Overhaul’s new escape route.

He’s quick to follow after Eri on a pillar of his own and Deku leapt into the air, bouncing off of the spires and debris Overhaul created to go after them. Snitch would have joined him; Overhaul was best faced with a ranged fighter considering the activation requirements of his quirk. But she couldn’t find a line that would get her up there, even with her bass boosted double jumps. So she stayed with Ryukyu and the others.

Looking up at the rising pillar Snitch could hear Eri’s hesitation in her song. Then the Soundtrack played the vamp of the soloist portion of Deku’s theme, slowing it right down to match Eri’s tempo. The instrumentation is empty, accompaniment without melody. And before Snitch could think her voice was pushing the Soundtrack out.

“You’re not alone.

There’s no doubt,

Your gift,

Isn’t futile to be.”

A flash of light sparked up on the pillar. Snitch heard the sound of a record scratching followed by a tape rewinding and Nemoto’s theme appeared in the Soundtrack again, Overhaul’s reverting to its original form.

“If we’ll be united

We’re stronger together.

We always have the high hope,

Not all for one but one for all.”

Standing at the edge of the platform Eri looked down at Deku and hesitated. Maybe it was the height or that feeling of unworthiness in her heart that made her stop. But looking into his eyes, lightning and fire flaring within as his arm reaches out towards her.

“Don’t worry about a thing

We’ll reach out to you

Even if it’s a harder way.

It’s plain to see the reason why

Oh, that’s all because of the mighty heart.”

Gripping Lemillion’s cape tightly her theme shifted into a more confident, tangible version of itself. It modulated into a major key before being played in the glockenspiels instead of the soft, echoey xylophone becoming closer to the echo of the future the Soundtrack had played for Snitch earlier. Then she stepped off of the ledge and lept towards Deku’s arms. The red fabric flared out behind her, spilling out in a mocking image of a massive cloud of blood and creating a warm colourful splash against the neutral and cool tones all around them.

Overhaul slammed his hand onto the concrete pillar he was standing on and Snitch could see the spires rising to attack Eri and Deku before they could meet. Anticipating it, expecting it, Snitch plugged her jacks into the amplifiers on her wrist and aimed her arms at the sky. Then, she does the most ill-advised thing she could do with her gear. She took a page out of Present Mic’s play book, projected her voice as much as she could while gunning it into the chromatic mediant and Amplified her voice.

“Remember it’s just natural that we’ll be there if you need help

Far across the distance, rest assured that our faith just won’t die.”

She splinters and crumbles some of the rocks, but her voice isn’t as powerful or focused as Present Mic. But it’s enough to give Deku room to manoeuvre in mid air as he falls. Then he used the new spikes that Overhaul was generating like tentacles and the debris of broken ones raining like meteors to parkour his way around them. But it seemed like he put too much power into his leap, launching himself and Eri miles into the sky.

There’s another verse left of this song. Snitch can feel it, even if she doesn’t know how and she’s too tired to think about why. But her vocal folds fail her when she tries to pick up the next note, voice coming out as a pitched whine, and the Soundtrack is already shifting its attention. There’s a reason she doesn’t amplify her voice, her vocal chords are an instrument she has to take care of and right now she’s wrecked it. So all that comes out of her throat when she takes another breath is a harsh, dry, grating ough.

“What did you do?” Nighteye asked. Despite his injury he still had the energy to be judgemental. Snitch flattered because… she really didn’t know?

“That was new,” Froppy commented, saving Snitch from having to answer.

“Yeah,” Snitch croaked out, voice strained and raspy. “Amplifying my voice is a bitch and a half.”

“Where’s Deku?” Uravity asked, half panicked. Snitch tapped the Soundtrack and pointed precisely at the sky.

Then, it happened again. In a rain of red Overhaul cannibalised another theme. He rose out of the rubble as a hulking mass of arms, muscle and sinew. Snitch couldn’t see herself shake or her face pale but Froppy noticed, watching Snitch from the corner of her eye.

“Not good,” Ryukyu rumbled, shifting the bulk of her scaly body slightly to place herself between her charges and Overhaul.

“You needn’t perry. We’re all safe, at least for the time being,” Nighteye decreed casually, his body was limp and drenched in blood. The only thing that was keeping him upright was Froppy’s support at his back. “He’ll head to the surface in pursuit of Midoriya and Eri. Then he’ll kill Midoriya and escape.”

“We can’t let him!” Uravity objected, but Snitch could tell she was exhausted. She wouldn’t have the energy to jump into a brawl as big as this one and her preference for close combat could only put him in more danger.

“I foresaw it,” Nighteye stated simply. His tone brokered no argument and that only made Snitch want to fight even more. Even though, logically, staying put was the better option.

“We can’t just sit here and do nothing!” Ryukyu argued, glancing skywards. Snitch plugged a jack into the ground, searching.

“Given the state you’re all in you can’t stop him, I'm sorry,” Nighteye repeated firmly.

"That doesn’t matter,” Uravity shook her head, voice desperate. “I have to do something to help him. There’s no future except the one you create.”

There has to be.

As they watched Overhaul’s monstrous new form rise and stand, Uravity tried to move towards him. What she would have done if she succeeded Snitch didn’t know. But exhaustion weighed on her heavily and her shaking legs gave out under her. Snitch’s body was also protesting against her, but her heart and the Soundtrack beat so fiercely in her that it forced her to keep going. Despite the Soundtrack whispering triumphant music in her ear, Snitch couldn’t help her anxiety. And Uravity had done nothing but reinforce Snitch’s refusal to stand on the sideline anymore, but what could she do? She trusted the Soundtrack in the same way Nighteye trusted his quirk. Just because the limitations of Foresight, its inability to change like the Soundtrack always is, made it fixed doesn’t make it unreliable.

Snitch latched onto the score, looking for anything in any hidden corner of her range that could help, that could make her feel any less helpless. Even if it meant fighting against the will of the Soundtrack, something she’d learnt during internships and a few days prior was ill advised without its guidance and still painful with it, she pulled the focus back. The focus of the Soundtrack had harrowed to Overhaul, Deku and Eri but Snitch pulled it back, desperate to see the bigger picture.

She could hear Eraserhead, theme slowed to a crawl like his body through long sustained notes, punned under Chronostasis. She could hear Suneater, making his way towards them as best he could. Fat Gum and Red Riot were sequestered safely away somewhere deep in the underground labyrinth. Still up top Bubble Girl, Centipeder and the local heroes that weren’t part of the strike team who were still up top but having to keep track of the stray members of the Hisaikai they’d subdued. They were too far away, too injured, too busy. And like always, Snitch couldn’t hear herself.

… She couldn’t hear herself.

Even when the Soundtrack turned precognitive it never told her what she was going to do, it only ever offered suggestions about what she could do.

“Your visions give you a limited view of the future centred on your target, right?” Snitch asked. If she couldn’t change what happened in his vision maybe she could add nuance to it because even with the Soundtrack pouring reassurances and the promises of a different future in her ears Snitch ran on spite and wasn’t willing to take chances.

“I-” Nighteye was clearly caught off guard by the question. “It doesn’t matter. You didn’t appear in any vision at all. There’s nothing you can do, nothing you do.”

Which was exactly what she was hoping for.

“Even better.”

“Snitch, what are you planning,” Ryukyu pressed. Snitch paused, before shaking her head.

“No time. Sir Nighteye needs immediate medical attention. You have to get him up top stat. Froppy, Lemillion’s back that way and pretty banged up. Ryukyu, there’s also a Compress clone trying to sneak by over there.”

“I can find him,” Froppy croaked, waiting for a nod from Ryukyu before hopping off in the direction Snitch had pointed out while Ryukyu turned the fake Compress to sludge between her claws.

When Uravity had Nighteye securely in her arms and ready to transport, though the hold was a bit awkward because of their height difference, Snitch took off after her own target. She’d been keeping track of where it was since the beginning of the fight. In part because she was worried someone was going to try and surprise them by taking another shot. But more so because someone would want to secure them in the inevitable cleanup. Even if Overhaul escaped there would be no way he’d be able to come back here.

A rock heavy theme led by violins and underscored by a wordless choir acted as her backdrop. It kept Snitch appraised of the battle up above. Heavy drums and an ominous clash of synth and guitar replaced the clear string melody whenever Overhaul seemed to be winning the fight. The instruments were trading melody lines at the moment but Snitch worried how long that could last.

Picking through the rubble Snitch found what she was looking for. One was half hidden under a piece of loose rubble but the other was just sitting there out in the open. Snitch swept them both up then checked the bullets in the chamber of the revolver.

Overhaul could repair his body faster than Deku could do damage to it, that was what was dangerous about this fight. The way Eri’s theme played more discordant notes beneath the battle theme the longer that it went on suggested that the boost she was giving Deku wasn’t an arrangement that they could keep up. The constant sound of the VHS tape rewinding and rewinding and rewinding every time Deku’s violins took control brought to mind how easy it was for those tapes to spool out and break. If Deku couldn't up his damage output then-

Snitch snapped the revolver back together and dashed across the rubble and up an unstable spire of concrete to the highest point in the chasm. She’d never shot a gun before, but the idea seemed simple enough and with the new form Overhaul had made for himself. Well, if she could precisely aim a knife at someone’s hands then Snitch hoped she could hit the broad side of a fucking barn.

Overhaul’s melody line cut out for a measure, then two as the violins ramped back in.

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

The guitar and drums rocketed back into the piece, synth absent and this time in harmony with the violins rather than drowning them out. An explosion of green shocked the sky as Overhaul came rocketing down to earth. A brief fanfare of horns punctuated the arch of Deku’s swing before it made impact with Overhaul’s face. A blast of dust scattered in every direction and the world seemed to take a breath as the Soundtrack’s orchestra came to a rest.

In the end, not even Snitch heard if the gun in her hand had fired.

Chapter Text

Kyoka found herself hovering near Mr Aizawa as the ambulances and paramedics arrived and the police secured the affected areas for cleanup. Heroes made their way to the front of the compound on their own feet or on stretchers while villains were strapped to gurneys or escorted into transport vehicles by the police. Ryukyu was the least injured agency head, so she was coordinating. And while Uravity, Froppy, Deku and Snitch were among the least injured and this would be valuable work experience she’d assigned them to sit out because of concerns with exhaustion. Nejire Chan and Nighteye’s sidekicks would finish up with her for now.

Kyoka’s injuries were minor, her costume had taken more damage than she had and she already knew Mei would be eternally grateful of that fact. If a little annoyed she’d have to remake Kyoka’s jacket and undershirt without being able to upgrade them. But even as she sat next to Mr Aizawa as the paramedics checked him over Kyoka’s gaze remained locked on Sir Nighteye.

The lone violin that had survived was still bravely playing on, but it had slowed to half the speed that the piece was originally intended for. To compensate the violin held its notes for longer, but that only had the effect of turning once melodious notes into sharp shrieks and banshee wails. Snitch could imagine that if a real violinist was playing the piece, if Nighteye were playing his own piece in this state, the fingers gripping the fretboard would be trembling. Long sustained notes meant to be hanting would become vibrato notes, not perversions of themselves but an inversion of the intended effect of vibrato; an effect used to make long notes more lively instead announcing their fragility.

It didn’t take long for Mr Aizawa to notice her preoccupation but he waited until the paramedics and moved on before calling her on it.

“They’re going to do their best,” he tried to assure her as they watched Nighteye’s gurney stop so Deku could speak with him briefly. “He’ll be alright.”

Kyoka huffed a breath through her nose. Nighteye was loaded onto the ambulance and it sped away, sirens blaring, leaving Midoriya alone. Kyoka waited for Midoriya to be pulled away out of earshot before speaking.

“Hey, we’re ready to go,” one of the paramedics called as they returned to the ambulance Kyoka and Mr Aizawa were waiting at. “All the high priority casualties have been loaded up. We’ll get you checked out properly at the hospital, if you could take a seat.”

The pair obligingly climbed into the ambulance propper, taking a seat on the precarious bench on one side of the vehicle.

“I’d be surprised if he survives the night,” Kyoka concluded under her breath, the echo of Nighteye’s diminishing theme in her ears as the others began coming over to join them. “And that prediction is immutable.”

The drone of the flatlined heartbeat monitor echoed throughout the room. The soft sound was as loud and piercing as an air raid siren until a nurse came over to the machine and pulled the plug. Even Togata, with a rain of tears still pouring down his face, was quiet as a mouse in his sobbing. Shota thought that it was miraculous that Midoriya wasn’t crying more honestly. Deciding to leave them to stew in their grief, Shota turned away from the dark room to head back down the hall.

“And where are you going Shota?” Shuzenji asked. She was the only one to notice he was slipping away. There was a tone of admonishment in her voice.

“To check on my student,” He said simply.

“You have two in there who could use the support.”

“That’s what Yagi is for. I’m more concerned about the student a few hallways away who could hear it happening,” Shota pointed out sharply. She’d spent so long being overlooked, he wasn’t about to perpetuate that cycle by assuming her reaction to experiencing someone die was any less important than Midoriya’s or Togata’s just because she wasn’t close to the man or didn’t see the light fade from his eyes first hand.

“Ah,” Shuzenji realized sadly. She tapped her cane pointedly on the ground.

“You can't let your guilt rule you forever you know,” she continued. Shota glowered at her. “Fine, go. I’ll make sure these boys take care of themselves.”

Shota sedately made the stroll from Nighteye’s emergency room to the overnight room Jiro had been given. Normally she would have had to share one with the other girls considering how non-threatening their injuries were, but Jiro’s special circumstances extended beyond her schooling. Though it made Shota a little bitter that hospitals were more accommodating than the hero commission, he understood that the necessity was more for practical concerns than anything else. For Jiro it may be necessary for treatment, but it was also necessary for other patients to assure their confidentiality. Essentially she’d been hosted in a soundproof room, but Shota knew that wouldn’t stop the Soundtrack, even if it did stop her quirk.

He knocked on the door before letting himself in. The walls were covered by familiar panels of padded foam and were blank save for the TV on the wall opposite the bed. There was a coffee table in the corner of the room furthest from the door. But unlike most private hospital rooms there were no windows making the space feel enclosed, entrapped. It reminded Shota too much of the padded rooms in insane asylums and while he was sure the resemblance was unintentional he also knew the resemblance wasn’t lost on Jiro and he wondered if the specialty soundproof room at her local hospital was this unnerving.

Jiro had a psychiatrist. The Soundtrack had helped her avoid ending up in an insane asylum since she was too young to understand what that was and what it would mean. Shota shivered.

Jiro was sitting cross-legged on the bed in the middle of the room, leaning over the pull out table they used to serve patients’ food. The protective side-rails had been pulled down but Shota could see the straps of the restraints usually attached to them dangling under the bed. This room was not built with her, or with those like her, in mind. Shota got the impression that this privilege often felt more like a threat. Jiro had sheets of paper splayed out in front of her that she was now looking over intently. She hadn't reacted to him knocking, or entering, but he was certain she knew he was there, especially with her headset absent. So he took the opportunity to peek at what she was writing.

Lines spanned the width of the page in close bunches of fire. Circles, some filled, some empty with lines going above or below them filled the lines. Jiro had drawn a stave, and, even now, was writing music. That’s when Shota noticed that her pen had stilled, and he looked up from the paper to find his student looking at him.

“Are you alright?” Shota began. “Nighteye just passed away.”

Jiro looked surprised at his consideration. She put her pen down and leaned back.

“I know,” she replied. Simple and brief. Shota nodded, eyes darting every which way, except at hers.

“I’m sorry you had to hear someone… pass like that. Especially at your age,” he continued, sincere and pained. “These are the things we, as teachers, are supposed to shield you from. And I know I advocate for showing the harshness of the world but-”

Jiro’s laughter cut him off abruptly.

“Relax sir,” she smiled at him softly. A small smile with soft eyes, half-sad and half amused. “It’s nothing I haven't heard before.”

Something in his glass heart whined and cracked and a realisation hit him. He belatedly came to understand that Jiro had tried to prepare him for this realisation too, only for him to fail to listen. His gut twisted, recognising just how much he’s failed his student. But Jiro continued on unabashed. To her it was like this loss of innocence just wasn't a tragedy to be lamented. To her this was old news, old hat.

“The part of the world we see and interact with every day is so small. We don’t realise that there are people actively dying all around us that we can do nothing about.”

Shota knows that. He tried to pull back the curtain for his students early on. He talked pragmatically and realistically, he didn’t believe in fairness because villains and death weren’t going to play fair. But some part of him still hoped that what he prepared them for are things they would never have to experience. But Jiro still wasn’t done, and this was where she really turned everything he was expecting on its head.

“Just like we aren’t aware of every birth that happens either.”

She looked at Shota, really looking at him now. It’s like she was trying to make him understand with her piercing gaze alone. Shota wondered just what she was hearing that let her stare into his soul. Or rather as she was staring into his soul, because he wouldn’t sell this girl short.

“Hospitals were a very scary place for me when I was young, sir. Because they were my first composer.

“Before I even knew what a composer was.

“Before I knew that I could write music. Or that my dad did. This was the place where music first came into existence…

“And where it ceased to be.”

The way she spoke about it was morbid, yet inspiring. It was philosophical and morose and mature in a way no kid should be at this age. If Shota didn't know that she was being extremely literal he would have called it poetic. Instead all it did was twist him up, something that must have shown more than he thought it did because-

“What’s with the face?” Jiro asked dryly. “Death is unexpected but certain. Life is unfair. There was a high likelihood one of us would be familiar with it?”

But murder isn’t, Shota almost wanted to protest. Instead-

“Having a dead loved one, yes. Experiencing it first hand…” Shota trailed off.

He was harsh on them to protect them. If they knew how cruel the world could be now it would hurt less when they experience that cruelty for the first time. You couldn’t be hurt by betrayal and disappointment if you’re expecting it after all. But Shota knew that wasn’t true either. Expecting the hurt never got rid of the pain, only lessened it. He hardened their hearts as best he could, prepared them to weather the storm so that his students could protect their hope’s flame from the worst batteries of wind and ruin. All to save him the pain and hurt he experienced when he watched Oboro-

“At least he got to die slowly,” Jiro interrupted suddenly and-

“What?” Shota asked numbly.

“Right. Concerning for people who can’t hear it,” Jiro shrugged, nodding her head to the side apologetically. “Sorry, I… I forgot.”

It’s reassuring that she had grown more comfortable with people, with him and her classmates, knowing that she overlooked that some of the things she said needed to be explained. But he could not focus on that when his heart twisted for her loss. A loss that she didn’t grieve or knew that she should grieve.

Suddenly Shota understood how Shuzenji and Nedzu felt about him when he was a student.

“He died slowly, so his theme changed,” Jiro clarified, “themes are either designed to repeat endlessly, or are designed to be modular; so open ended that other pieces of music can be stitched onto them as people change and grow or as situations change.

“Because he died slowly, all those hanging notes and progressions, all those open ended melodies, they all got resolved. Instead of another repeat, his theme got a coda, and it came home.”

Shota’s not an expert on music. And while Yamada hosted a radio show where he was a ‘disc jockey’ (how that was different from a DJ was also lost on him but Yamada was weirdly incessant about it) the complexities and techniques Jiro described, Shota is sure would go over his head too. But she simplified her language enough that he could make conclusions from what she hadn’t said.

This was rare, special. Not everyone got to ‘come home’, and the very fact that she’s using terminology usually used to describe soldiers returning from war or heroes from their longer and more dangerous missions for music pained him. But it told Shota that she's used to hearing songs get cut short. Harshly, unexpectedly, abruptly. And it was that, more than her outright telling him that she’s heard this all before. More than knowing that just by sitting in this hospital she’s heard more people than Nighteye die. More than her implying that, everywhere she goes she’s always hearing someone die. It’s that, that makes him believe that this is something she has long grown used to.

Because a life cut short unexpectedly is not one ended by old age or disease.

They’re those ended by accidents, disaster, murder, suicide. That was what Jiro was used to.

Shota’s gaze went back to the papers that she’d been writing music on. Composing even when she was supposed to be resting. Composing in the place she first believed music came into existence because music was synonymous to life for her. And it finally hit him just what this was too.

“I’m glad that he found what he was looking for. That whatever it was was enough to let him find peace and be happy again.”

Here they were, talking about a man who had never been kind to her. A man who had never taken the time to understand her. A man who embodied all the things she hated about herself and who she could be. Someone who had taken her for granted and never had the chance or thought to apologise for his behaviour towards her and she was taking more heart from how he died than she ever cared for him while he was alive. Her resentment of him was born of the fact that he had manufactured a false peace that she could not pretend existed and in the end was happy that he had found something real.

“You’re allowed to grieve,” Shota told her, knowing it would be unnecessary. He almost wanted to say that she was still allowed to be mad at him more.

“I don’t have to be sad to grieve, sir,” Jiro grinned. There it was again, that perspective that was wise beyond her years. “And even if I'm allowed to, I can't. If I did, I'd be grieving everyday for the rest of my life. It’s illogical.”

Shota was this close to swearing off those words ever again. Sure, it was illogical for her to be resentful, or angry, especially in perspective that a reminder of one's mortality gives you, but you weren’t required to exude eternal peace and satisfaction.

“I can take solace in knowing that Nighteye’s dying notes were spent lingering on Togata’s theme.

“I’m all for preparing us for the worst the world has to offer. But Mr Aizawa… what if something good happened?”

Chapter Text

Kyoka sat next to Recovery Girl in the hospital’s waiting room. The bag that Yaomomo had bought her was slung over her shoulder and her costume case sat on the seat beside her. Mr Aizawa stood nearby, waiting for the other U.A students to arrive. Admittedly Kyoka was early but she didn’t like lingering in hospitals for longer than she had to and found it even harder to sleep in them. Even now her fingers itched for a pen and paper as her ears burned. Even still, she tried her best to ignore the urge by skimming through song after song that she blasted through her headphones.

Midoriya had just wandered down to join them when the newsreel had cycled back to their main story. It was replaying their report covering the League of Villain’s attack on Overhaul’s prison transport and the subsequent murder of the Sand Hero Snatch. Kyoka turned the volume of her music down as she took in Midoriya’s theme.

Compared to the evolving chaos it had been thrown into yesterday where it had stretched itself to the limit fighting with Overhaul’s theme and mixed with Eri's, now it had returned to some form of normal. It hadn’t quite reverted back to back to the version of itself prior to the raid. But the violin solo that had warped the most to accommodate the slower tempo of Eri’s theme and had fought for the melody with Overhaul’s instruments found itself changed. For starters it was no longer a solo and was now backed up by the drums, horns and chorals it had stolen from Overhaul at the end of the fight (though the vocals were definitely different. Darker, ironically, and more foreboding, more dramatic with grander and more epic stakes), postponing the song’s drop until the end of the section. Then, it transitioned into something entirely new, something that settled like a portent in the back of Kyoka’s head.

It was the most traditionally heroic Midoriya’s theme had been so far. Though it was too slow for a marching pace and the melody line was still carried by the strings it was more orchestra than band having more brass than any of his themes so far and trading out the modern drum kit for orchestral timpani. The choir returned as the theme built ever upwards, rising to a promise of new power that didnt’ come as the song ended before beginning anew.

Midoriya’s eyes were wide with obvious distress as he listened to the news and Mr Aizawa took a moment to reassure and comfort him. He shot Kyoka a glance as he spoke words she couldn’t hear but she could make a decent guess and shrugged apathetically. The check-in was… nice, even if it was unwarranted.

Eventually all the U.A students had gathered down in the lobby ready to head back to the school. Mr Aizawa was absently figuring out their sign-out paperwork nearby. Meanwhile Togata made a b-line towards Kyoka and she obligingly pulled her headphones down around her neck.

“Thank you for coming after me,” he told her, “I think I would have been able to keep Eri safe without your help.”

Kyoka shrugged, “s’nothing.”

“But no, really,” Togata insisted with a teasing grin. “I can’t imagine how much trouble you got into for disobeying orders.”

Mr Aizawa twisted around to glare at the back of Kyoka’s head dramatically. His quirk flared.

“Right, that,” the teacher uttered dramatically, tone particularly threatening. Kyoka shot him a blank look and raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

“Oops,” Togata winced apologetically, still chuckling. “But it’s kind of wild that the quirk erasing bullets didn’t work on you.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing and a chorus of alarm rose up around her and Togata.

“You got shot and didn’t tell anyone?” Togata turned to her incredulously. Kyoka glared at him petulantly. Like he wouldn’t have done the same if the shot hadn’t been life threatening.

“I was kind of hoping you’d forget about that,” Kyoka groaned.

“Maybe it wasn’t one of the permanent ones?” Midoriya speculated.

“But even the temporary ones worked on Amajiki,” Hado pointed out, turning to the green-haired boy. “Even if the permanent ones weren’t perfected wouldn’t they have some result?”

“We should have the doctors take a look-,” Mr Aizawa started, already turning around to head back into the hospital. Kyoka got in his way, tired of this nonsense.

“Guys, relax!” she interrupted. “Aren't you all forgetting something?”

“What are we forgetting?” Uraraka said dryly, raising an eyebrow at her belligerently.

Kyoka looked at them all with blank exasperation.

“... my jacket is reinforced with kevlar and I wear a chestplate,” she deadpanned, then rolled her eyes. “Yes, I got shot. Yes, it hit me. But it didn’t pierce my skin.

“You know, just like how Kirishima got shot with a temporary quirk erasing bullet and it bounced off of his hardened skin?”

Seriously, when it was a quirk they didn’t care but when it was actual bloody body armour they went out of their minds with worry.

“You should have still told someone,” Tsu rightfully pointed out.

“Considering the last few days I can be forgiven for letting it slip my mind,” Kyoka barked back.

“Problem children, the lot of you,” Mr Aizawa grumbled, already walking away.

The trip back to Musutafu was short, but the paperwork and debriefing they had to go through took hours, meaning they only got back to the dorms late into the night. Thank god it was the weekend tomorrow or Kyoka was sure she’d crash during classes, she still had some work she wanted to finish too. Mr Aizawa dropped them off outside of 1A’s Heights Alliance building first before taking the third years back to their building. The group lingered awkwardly in the pathway for a moment, just looking up at the building. The lights were still on downstairs and Kyoka could hear a lot of commotion.

“You know what’s weird?” Uraraka broke out suddenly. “It feels like we haven’t been back here in a long time.”

Kyoka shrugged apathetically since it had only been four days total she’d been away. But considering the amount of class they’d all missed the past month she could empathise with the sentiment. It was also hard to feel like she’d left when their themes were always an idle thought away if she needed them.

“Yeah,” Tsu agreed. Speaking of their classmates-

“They’re waiting for us,” Kyoka commented, pulling her headphones up from around her neck, though she wasn’t turning the noise canceling on quite yet. “They’re worried, it's going to be chaos.”

“Well?” Kirishima grinned brilliantly, hooking his arm under and around Kyoka’s elbow, refusing to let her hide away. The others followed after them lightly, new springs in their steps. “Let’s go.”

The door clicked open and they barely had time to step inside and take off their shoes before their classmates were racing towards them from whatever parts of the kitchen and living room they’d hidden themselves away in while they waited anxiously.

“There you guys are!” Hagakure cried out, jumping and waving emphatically. She came to a stop just in front of them and stomped her foot on the ground in petulant anger. If they could see her face Kyoka knew she would have been huffing and pouting. “It’s about time you showed up!”

Yaomomo came over gracefully and placed a placating hand on Hagakure’s shoulder, pulling her back slightly.

“We were all worried about you,” she told them simply with a gracious smile.

"Yeah, we saw the news,” Kaminari added, rubbing his hands anxiously. Oh, that was worse, especially if it was anything like the cycle from that morning.

“It looked terrifying,” Ashido followed, fear mixed with a burning curiosity in her voice. “Tell us everything”

Now there’s that sprinkle of an adrenaline junky’s manic excitement. Thankfully Sato cut in before Ashido could get another word in.

“I made a double chocolate cake for you,” he said, holding the plate out to them and, ooh, cake. Better than whatever conversation Ashido wanted to have. Kyoka deftly slipped her shoes off and wove around to sate, grabbing a fork off of the plate and taking a bite out of it.

“It’s good.”

Kaminiari leaned into her space, pointing one hand at her while using the other to gesture pointedly at Midoriya and Kirishima too.

“First Kamino and now the yakuza!” he said incredulously. “You guys are always getting into crazy situations!”

He wagged his finger at the boys like a disapproving mother. “You know how much that scares us!”

The rest of the class joined in with their own cacophony of agreement and exclamations. Kyoka calmly rode it out and avoided their rising voices by continuing to eat cake, hiding beneath the shelter of Sato’s bulky form. He was a bit awkward and surprised at her continued closeness at first but eventually decided to just bracket her with his arms, resting his hands on her shoulders and pulling them back from the crowd slightly. It brought them closer to Koji and Shoji.

“I’m just glad they’re okay,” Shoji told Koji quietly, giving Kyoka a subtle nod that she returned when he noticed her watching. Koji agreed, relief painting his form as he hugged his bunny to his chest.

“Enough of this!” Iida interjected. “I know everyone was worried, but calm down. We all saw the news coverage, our classmates have been through an ordeal. We should let them rest because I'm sure it wasn’t just taxing physically but mentally as well.”

“Hey, Iida?” Midoriya interrupted, stepping up. “Thanks for that, but really. This is okay.”

“Then if I may,” Iida cleared his throat. Suddenly Kyoka was glad that Sato and pulled them away, knowing what was about to happen as Iida’s theme decided to stop reining itself in. She took another bite of cake. He grabbed Midoriya by the shoulder and shook him back and forth frantically.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was for all of you? It was awful! What if you never returned?”

“Dude, take your own advice and chill out,” Sero drawled, grabbing Iida and pulling him away. Iida protested for a moment before quickly composing himself again.

“I’ll go make us all some calming tea,” Yaomomo decided, heading back towards the kitchen.

Uraraka’s soft and melancholic theme became the forefront of Kyoka’s perception and she turned to watch her classmate who was looking at her hands aghast, as if she could still see the blood on them. This sudden prominence made Kyoka realise just how similar Uraraka’s theme and Nighteyes’ requiem were in composition and structure as Nighteye’s repetitive, sombre piano line replaced Uraraka’s romantic one. Not wanting to let her sour the mood or stew too long in her own, undeserved guilt, Uraraka walked over and abruptly dumped the plate of cake into her open hands.

“Try some cake, it’s really good,” Kyoka chirped. Her chipper tone was only slightly forced as she tried to emulate Ashido’s energy. Uraraka’s expression flickered between blank, indignant and confused but she wasn’t able to get a word in edgewise because Kyoka was already swiftly walking away from her.

“Why didn’t you tell us what was going on?” Sero asked, throwing his arm around Kirishima’s shoulder. “We were totally blindsided!”

“We were sworn to secrecy,” Kirishima hissed back.

“And you!” Hagakure declared, rounding on Kyoka as she passed by. “How did you get involved so suddenly?”

“I dunno!” Kyoka cried, raising her hands in mock surrender before promptly throwing the others under the bus. “They’re the ones who came to me!”

“I’m glad we did,” Midoriya replied.

“Yeah!” Kirishima added. “Fat Gum said that these sorts of investigations usually took weeks!”

“What I don’t understand is why you let sir Nighteye take the credit?” Tsu pondered. Kyoka winced, yeah, now was not the time to be getting into any of that, thank you very much. So she reached for snark instead, threading a little sincerity in to make it believable.

“Because I didn’t do it for credit?” she replied sarcastically. Then shrugged. “Honestly I hadn’t expected it to work, I'm pretty sure the only reason it did was because I got pissed at Nighteye.”

“Pft, really?” Katsuki snorted, looking back at her from where he sat on the couch.

“Hey, plus ultra. Right?” Kyoka shot back sardonically, tone deliberately reminiscent of Hitoshi.

“But spite?” Katsuki shifted so that he was able to face Kyoka as she approached him.

“Like you’re one to talk Mr ‘jump at any challenge’,” Koji signed, grinning in a way that implied teeth but never showed them. Kyoka really needed to know how he did that.

“Whatever. Time for bed," Katuski announced, getting up from the couch.

“What! Seriously? It’s so early,” Kaminari protested.

“Unlike the rest of you,” Katsuki growled, “I've got stuff to do tomorrow.”

That’s when Todoroki slipped back into the building, having disappeared earlier to take a call from his father.

“Hey guys, I'm glad you’re all back and everyone’s safe but I have to go to bed,” he said, excusing himself politely. He darted back out of the room, disappearing towards the elevators.

“I understand Bakugo,” Tsu mused, “but Todoroki wants to leave the party early too?”

“Normally I'd make a dig about how those two can’t agree on shit,” Kyoka chuckled, nudging Katsuki out of the way to take his spot on the couch. Despite announcing that he was leaving it seemed he’d decided to linger for just a little while longer, “but they’ve got that provisional licence training course tomorrow.”

She looked back up at Katsuki.

“Mr Aizawa cleared you to go?” that seems to catch everyone’s attention as the chatter and movement fell quiet and all eyes turned to them. Koji was the only one unafraid to disturb the tenuous atmosphere as he moved to sit on the couch across from Kyoka.

“Not just him,” Katsuki grinned proudly, “the entire review board too. Provided I go to a few mandated therapy sessions.”

“U.A offered you Hound Dog, didn’t they?” Kyoka drawled knowingly.

Katsuki cackled, “and I said they could fuck right off with that shit! Gave ‘em a better recommendation.”

“Oh yeah?” Kyoka asked incredulously. “You looked into therapists?”

“If it was good enough for you…” Katsuki trailed of leadingly.

“Oh, ‘cause I'm the picture of mental health,” Kyoka tittered dramatically.

“Even if you couldn't’ have told him everything, he still taught you the skills you needed to manage on your own,” Koji pointed out.

“Please tell me you helped him look?” Kyoka asked Koji, begging light-heartedly.

Koji grinned and nodded obligingly.

“Now that,” Kyoka gestured at Koji gratefully, “is reassuring.”

“Fuck off Snitch Bitch,” Katsuki snapped, pleased, as he finally stomped loudly out of the room.

“Love you too, Kats!” Kyoka called at his retreating back. He threw up his middle finger at her and Kyoka burst out laughing.

After that it didn't take long for the excitement to fade and the celebration winded down. In the dwindling hours of the night Kyoka and her classmates found themselves lounging around the living room making idle chatter. Koji had dumped his rabbit in her lap at some point in the night as he lingered near the kitchen, talking to Sato and helping him and Yaomomo pass out refreshments. In the meantime Kyoka worked on her sheet music, turning the noise cancelling on to listen to the new piece that was filtering through the air in the Soundtrack.

It was soft, light and airy. Starting with a piano in the higher register and a guitar doing the chords through picked arpeggios it was like a lullaby. Then the piano dropped out, a bass guitar slinked in and the violins took up the melody. It was simultaneously a song that announced resolution and the type of thing that you’d expect to underscore a montage. Even when the drums kicked in they were weightless and peaceful enough to enhance, not disturb the sleepy but cheerful energy the class had built.

Some stayed and left as they pleased late into the night and some into the wee hours of the morning; despite Iida and yamomo’s advice and protests. Really most didn’t want to upset the vibe. But when Tokoyami finally returned from Fukuoka and half the people that had remained were already fast asleep on the couches even Kyoka had to admit that maybe they’d stayed up a little too late. Luckily Ashido and Hagakure were light enough for Kyoka to move on her own, though one by one, and Shoji and Tokoyami could handle the guys by themselves, Dark Shadow able to carry one in each claw and Shoji two with his many arms.

Chapter Text

Katsuki knew that the Soundtrack was a tool. It was capable of revealing the emotional complexities of situations and people that no one should be able to know otherwise.

He knew that the Soundtrack was omnipotent because it could predict the future, offering warnings and advice that makes no goddamn sense, even in the moment.

The Soundtrack was the worst existential crisis just waiting to happen and no one knew that better than Katsuki did.

But most importantly, the Soundtrack was Kyoka’s.

Which is why it made no sense why Kyoka didn’t have a place in its composition. And it made even less sense that Katsuki had heard it.

It had to have been something that Kyoka did to make it that way, however briefly, but talking to her afterwards it was obvious she had no clue what he was talking about. Katsuki didn’t want Kyoka to think he was trying to gaslight her so he’d decided he’d have to gather more evidence first before he brought it up again. Even if Kyoka didn’t want to know more about the Soundtrack Katsuki needed to.

“Poor Mr Aizawa,” Todoroki said, apropos of nothing and breaking Katsuki out of his thoughts. “I feel bad making him train us after everything he just went through.”

“I’m not going to make small talk with you Half ‘n’ Half,” Katsuki snarled.

“You should,” Todoroki started but was cut off by Present Mic calling at them from down the drive. All Might was standing beside him in front of the bus they’d be taking.

“You’re late, you bad boys!” His accent was exaggerated to make him sound all rough and tumble as if he was trying to imitate Mr Aizawa’s natural intimidation factor.

“Present Mic, All Might, why are you here?” Todoroki asked.

“We’ll be taking you to training today,” All Might informed them.

“Eraserhead’s going to be playing hookie thanks to all the yakuza chart toppers taken down yesterday,” Present Mic crowed. It took Katsuki a real minute to translate what the fuck the english teacher was saying.

“Man you’re old,” he grumbled. Present Mic flinched back, aghast and Katsuki ignored his offended rambling to focus on All Might’s and Todoroki’s conversation. Even when he started poking him in the forehead like a child.

“Is he injured worse than we thought?”

“No he was just called in by the hospital to assist with the girl they rescued. Present Mic will be acting as your substitute bodyguard.”

“Couldn’t they have sent someone less annoying,” Katsuki grumbled, turning away from the blond and snatching his wrist firmly to stop the goddamn poking. Motherfucker.

“Excuse you little man,” Present Mic continued hotly, “name one teacher better-”

“Power Loader, Ectoplasm, Snipe, 13,” Katsuki recited. “Fuck Vlad King would make the list if he didn’t hate us and Hound Dog would if I hadn’t spent hours of my life trying to avoid him.”

Thankfully no one commented on the absolute absence of both Midnight’s and Cementoss’ names from his list. It was likely they’d already considered that themselves when selecting who would replace Mr Aizawa.

“Anyway,” All Might intervened with an awkward cough, “yesterday was an easy classroom lecture for you, but I hear today’s training will be far tougher.”

Present Mic quickly recovered from Katsuki’s sharp response and tried to lighten the mood again. His arm swung around behind Katsuki and the moment his hand landed on Katsuki’s shoulder, whatever Present Mic was saying went out the window. It was a total white-out as he desperately threw himself away from the other man.

“Seriously, don’t touch me!” he signed at the older man sharply as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Young Bakugo,” All Might muttered in concern, which Katsuki ignored, instead he accepted the hand Todoroki silently offered to help him up, though he refused to look the other boy in the eye. He missed the anguish on All Might’s face at seeing him use sign but he wouldn’t be blind to it for long though.

Mood thoroughly soured the group of four awkwardly piled into the vehicle and took off. It was some time during the journey with Todoroki and Present Mic thoroughly distracted that All Might approached Katsuki unexpectedly. A bad idea considering he’d turned his hearing aid off for a short reprieve knowing he’d have to use them constantly without break for the rest of the day.

“Young Bakugo, my boy,” Katsuki didn’t hear All Might say but Katsuki was quick to notice that the older man was trying to speak to him. The retired hero went on for a couple seconds before Katsuki turned his hearing aids back on, just catching All Might’s, “I'm so sorry.”

“What for?” Katsuki asked in a clarifying tone.

All Might looked taken aback, “you're hearing my boy.”

Katsuki.exe had stopped working, initiating a full reboot. Hero who wanted to save everyone, who saw it as a personal failure when even inaction results in someone’s casualty. Ineptitude as a teacher to not look into his medical record and the lengths the Bakugo’s went to to hide Katsuki’s deficiencies. The timeline of events. Of course All Might blamed himself for Katsuki’s (partial and deteriorating) deafness. Of course All Might saw Katsuki’s greatest personal triumph as just another one of his failures. Katsuki burst out laughing, the sound was harsh and sharp but leaned more towards incredulous than amused. To be clear, he wasn’t laughing because this was funny, but because it was pitiful, laughably pitiful. He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at the ceiling.

“Man, you and Midoriya really are alike,” he muttered, resigned and derisive. He combed the hair behind his ear back to make his hearing aid more visible. “Let's make one thing clear, this is mine. No one gets credit for it but me. Not everything in this world revolves around you, get used to it.”

Having effectively ended the conversation in his mind Katsuki turned his attention to his phone, forcing All Might to walk away.

Todoroki and Katsuki split off from their teachers as soon as they entered the building that looked suspiciously like a local sports hall that the commission had rented out for the day. They navigated through the back corridors following the signs to the locker rooms, the case with his hero costume inside was a comfortable weight in Katsuki’s hand.

“Hey, it’s U.A!” An infuriatingly enthusiastic voice called.

Mostly because it made a sturdy, indestructible stressball when the wind fucker from Shiketsu came marching towards them with bright familiarity.

God Katsuki wished he could just turn his hearing aids off… then again no one important was here to stop him from giving this fucker hell.

“Oh, joy. It’s the inconsiderate wind bag motherfucker,” Katsuki drawled.

“Be nice,” Todoroki admonished quietly.

“Oh, I'll be nice,” Katsuki agreed pleasantly with a cunning sharpness. “As nice as he was to Muse.”

A new voice entered the conversation distracting Katsuki from noticing the prayer for patience Todoroki sent to the sky.

“Ooh, who’s this smouldering looking two tone boy?” a blonde chick asked flirtatiously as she sauntered over. “You’re like, super hot. I’m totally psyched to train with a babe like you.”

“For a brief second Katsuki thought the world was ending because he didn’t know what he was more thankful for. That Todoroki was a brick wall when it came to this sort of thing or that Midnight’s existence as their teacher had long since desensitised them to this sort of language.

“Hey Yoarashi, do you know him or something?” she asked, before immediately turning her attention back to Todoroki, presenting her phone to him. “Like seriously, can I have your number?”

“Uh, sure?” Todoroki agreed like the idiot he was. Katsuki wasn’t sure whether to blame Endeavor's isolation of his son for his naivete or whether this explained it. As he watched Todoroki willingly give his personal phone number to a stranger who had just tried to hit on him and that he obviously had no interest in, Katsuki saw how much of an easy target Todoroki would be for cougars and other kinds of predators. But hey, that was his funeral, not Katsuki’s.

“You’re the witch that Toga was pretending to be,” Katsuki realised, finally deigning to give the tasteless fox a once over.

“Oh, yeah, I guess,” she agreed. Okay, so she was less of a bitch and more of a bimbo then. Unless she was doing Valley Girl like Present Mic’s poor attempt at black vernacular English, in which case she was just plain annoying. “Man, what a shitty way to be remembered, y'know. Like, totally so not cool. But, hey, how did you know about-?”

“Camie, this is beneath you!” a stiff purple haired idiot also from Shiketsu interrupted before she could finish her question and Katsuki would be expected to answer. Unfortunately it was replaced by someone much worse who promised to be a lot more annoying. “As a Shiketsu student you shouldn’t fraternize with such failures!”

Katsuki grinned at the plentiful ammo he’d just been given by the meatball fucker’s presumptuous exclamations. Behind him Todoroki face-palmed. Oh, sure, he’d never met the guy but Kirishima and Kaminari had told him enough. Especially about how obsessed he was with how Katsuki in particular didn’t live up to his image of what a hero should be.

“Oh, like yourself?” he pointed out, looking the older boy up and down derisively. “Remind me, wasn’t it one of my idiots that beat you while you went on and on about how much better you were than him.

“It was my class that ‘lacked dignity’ but we obviously surpassed your oh so brilliant self. If they’re so vulgar what does that make you? Barbaric… risqué?”

Meatball man made a polite offended gasp and Katsuki continued his performance by sidling up to the blonde chick.

“From where I'm standing it looks like Valley Girl and I are the only ones who aren’t failures. Y’know, since neither of us took the exam.”

Valley Girl seemed to miss her easy cue to playfully flirt with someone who would, and could, banter back. Instead her one brain cell lit up and she ‘finally’ figured out who Todoroki was.

“Wait, you’re Endeavor’s son! You’re hero royalty on top of being a snack,” she purred and now Katsuki was thoroughly unimpressed. “That’s so totally amazing.”

“She’s just so bold,” Inasa murmured, impressed and in awe.

“Actually I'd call that sexual harassment,” Katsuki deadpanned. He looked back over at meatball guy conspiratorially. “We’ve got a Grape who does the same thing, perving on all the girls in class.”

“Disgusting.” The older boy’s nose wrinkled and, for the first time since hearing about him, Katsuki appreciated his attitude.

“You’re telling me,” Katsuki snorted. Then, because he couldn’t help getting another dig in. “But he still passed the exam and you didn’t.”

He turned to look at Todoroki who wore a blank, unreadable expression that spoke volumes to his classmate where it probably didn’t reveal shit to these chucklefucks. The Half-and-Half bastard was absolutely resigned to his fate, trapped in a social hell he had no way of escaping. When he noticed Katsuki staring he stared back and the irritation that weighed on his brow was reinvigorating.

Katsuki shrugged, “really wish you all would just let me blow him up.”

The Iida knockoff predictably reacted with outrage and they were likely going to be trapped in a tirade for another long while if IcyHot hadn’t loudly intervened.

“Okay, we should probably get changed,” he announced, pulling Katsuki away with him by grabbing the straps of his bag. Katsuki suppressed his laughter the entire way to the locker room.

Out in the open concrete arena of the sports hall the HPSC representative’s voice echoed loudly across the space, it was the same dickhead who had done the announcements at the provisional licence exam.

“Before we begin, up until now we had nine people in our training class, today onwards we’ll have eleven.” He gestured for Valley Girl and Katsuki to step forwards. “Camie here passed the first test, but foggy memories made her difficult to place. So we made an exception and only had her start participating now.

“Bakugo didn’t participate in the test at all due to outstanding circumstances. Instead he’s had a separate aptitude test that qualified him for this programme with the recommendation of his teachers. This is to let us see if he can put what he’s learnt recently into practice.”

The dead eyed stare he gave Katsuki as he spoke made the blonde chafe, but Katsuki remained resolute until the guy finished talking. As soon as he had finished talking and dismissed the pair, Katsuki hurried to Todoroki’s free side. But before he could introduce today’s activity an enraged voice shouted down from the back corner of the hall.

“Shoto!” Endeavor interrupted like a jackass, “you never should have failed the initial exam in the first place, show these weaklings you’re in a completely different league!”

Most of the trainees were immediately distracted and entranced by the number one né number two hero. Save Todoroki, Katsuki and the wind bag, all of whom’s moods had immediately worsened, though only Katsuki seemed to notice.

“Mother fucking abusive cunt. What the fuck’s he doing here?” Katsuki muttered assured that only Todoroki would hear him as they were the only two who hadn’t even bothered to look Endeavor’s way. “Asshole deserves a chainsaw to the dick worse than Mineta does.”

Todorki looked over at him concerned.

“That is… honestly more violent than I've ever heard you,” he deadpanned. Katsuki thought he meant more graphic considering he’d been shouting ‘die!’ regularly when they first met. Katsuki also didn’t have the heart to tell him that he’d picked up his more creative expletives from Beetle.

"Yeah? Well I have my own problems with parents who hurt their kids,” Katsuki admitted. “But yours really takes the cake.”

“Ah, Jiro told you,” Todoroki assumed, “I didn't quite know if you were aware or not.”

“Nah, that one's actually on me. I… may have followed you and Midoriya at the sports festival,” Katsuki shrugged. He doesn’t admit he followed them because he was angry, though Todoroki is smart enough to figure that out on his own. He was sorry for overhearing something that personal though, but there’s no way to take that sort of thing back.

“Oh.”

“And the Snitch bitch may have followed me.”

“I see.” Overall Todoroki was taking this rather well.

“And she may have recorded the entire conversation.” Todoroki shot Katsuki a cold look and Katsuki shrugged helplessly. There’s the outrage.

“Look… if you want to tell anyone. She’s got you,” he offered sheepishly with false confidence.

Todoroki raised an eyebrow at him. “Not you?”

“I thought that our entire class just assumed we were a package deal.”

“I don’t know, you and Kirishima get along pretty well.” Kastuki knew Half-and-Half was teasing, there was a glint in his eye as he said it. Even if his stupid pretty boy face stayed perfectly stoic like a goddamn hellenistic statue.

“Say another world and I blast you IcyHot,” Katsuki growled just as the commission fucker regained everyone’s attention.

“Right then, let’s bring in your instructor.” He grinned menacingly as the double doors clicked open and the almost monochrome hero strode out confidently. “Gang Orca.”

Gang Orca marched in front of them as if he were a drill sergeant looking them up and down assessingly. From his closed body language Katsuki guessed he found them lacking.

“So I've got even more disappointments today. What shame you must feel to be standing before me, given how easy the exam was.” He stopped marching, looking out at all of them with his hands behind his back. As he stood at attention some of the other kids did so too. “There’s something I've realised while observing your training so far.

“There’s nothing heroic about any of you! You’re bottom feeders, nothing but rotten fish turds!”

“Sir yes sir!”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. What was this? Military boot camp… actually come to think of it that might not be that far off.

Gang Orca rounded on Katsuki.

“Especially you,” he growled. “Do you even want to be a hero?”

You remind me of my old hag, Katsuki thought blithely. Gang Orca wasn’t as scary as his old hag either. He was used to people screaming in his face, he was used to people trying to throw hands. For his entire life he gave what he got back and then some. Because even when they tried to tear him down he knew to hold onto his pride because that was what they were afraid of; him, staying him. But now, now he had other tools in his kit.

“If being a hero means turning a blind eye to this kind of abuse then the appeal is waning,” Katsuki shot back, tone dry as a desert and eyes leaden dead and tired, though his lips twitched with smug mirth. Without Mr Aizawa around, no one was quite in a position to call him on who exactly he was imitating. “Isn’t this the kind of thing we’re supposed to protect people from?”

“You have an issue with my teaching skills?” Gang Orca looked at him, head tilted so that he was looking at Katsuki with one piercing red and white eye.

“No,” Katsuki rebuked, still unwavering. “I have an issue with my attitude. Or that’s what everyone tells me.

"Frankly, I know I'm abrasive and vulgar. But I have it on good authority that there’s more than one way to be a hero.”

“Good assessment,” Gang Orca rumbled. He gestured to Todoroki, Katsuki and the two Shiketsu fucks, drawing them away from teh rest of the group.

“Inasa, Todoroki, Bakugo. I am well aware that the three of you have impressive combat abilities. But that is all you have.”

He pointed at Katsuki. “Your behaviour is unacceptable.”

He felt like the Fish Stick wanted to say more but was put out by Katsuki’s unimpressed stare. Instead he turned to the wind bag and IcyHot, which was a better idea since he had more data on them anyway.

“You’re disrespectful of those in need of rescue and ignore your enemies to compete with one another.

“Today we will put all four of you through a special trial. It’s time you start training a new muscle, the one that beats in your chest! If you hold out a hand to someone in trouble, will they take it? Not as you are now!”

Katsuki recalled walls of blue fire and music in his ears. The chill of an iceberg. A comet soaring across the sky glowing green and blue and red. Okay, so maybe he had a point.

“It’s fine to have fangs but when a life is on the line you must have trust. You need a special connection with the one you’re trying to rescue, remember that as you train today.

“Now, you will meet your opponents. Through this life or death battle show that you can come to an understanding with them. That’s the hurdle you face!”

From that introduction Katsuki was expecting petty criminals on parole or people from an reintegration, rehabilitation and reformation programme. Maybe delinquents or juvenile offenders around their age if they wanted to give an easier (and also harder) time establishing rapport. People with depression or struggling with substance abuse were another thought.

Instead the doors opened and all hell broke loose.

Children.

Little. Tiny. children. An entire swarm of Mineta sized gremlins ran rampant around the area. Okay, so maybe Katsuki was being a bit dramatic. You know, now the sports hall venue was beginning to make more sense.

“So, like, why am I here?” Valley Girl asked Fish Sticks as Katsuki danced around the kids lightly, scared as fuck of accidentally blowing them up, especially with his gauntlets. Luckily they were mostly running past him, paying more attention to wind bag and Todoroki.

“Honestly? We just thought you wouldn’t be very good at this.”

Katsuki missed whatever he said next having to avoid another gaggle of children but when he turned back into Gang Orca’s voice he found the hero speaking to the brats’ teacher.

“These kids are from Asayaki elementary school.” Gang Orca turned to the meek black haired woman who seemed seconds away from bursting into tears at any given moment. “Don’t worry, we’re taking responsibility for your students now.”

Katsuki froze. He would have double checked his hearing aids to see if he heard that right but Katsuki wasn’t that delusional.

“We’re what!”

A couple of kids startled at his volume, the hypocrites, and ran off screaming

“Oh, you’re one of those,” a blonde haired brat that smelled of money sneered at Katsuki condescendingly. Frankly, Katsuki wasn’t impressed with him either. With his slicked back hair and tailored fucking purple suit he looked like the spoilt and elitist son of a Karen that was under the impression he was born to rule and wouldn’t have to work a day in his life. Basically the kid was worse than the copycat leech. “A grown up who thinks they can get their way by yelling, by not letting anyone else get a word in edgewise. Well we’re not impressed by that.”

Sounded like his mother, he was getting that a lot today.

“What?” Katsuki called loudly towards the boy who was trying to look edgy by leaning against the wall, “I couldn't hear you on account of my old decrepit deafness.”

The kid stumbled, shocked, and couldn't compose or catch himself fast enough before he sprawled out on the floor. Katsui felt a lick of satisfaction curl down his spine and he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Bakugo, what are you doing?” Todoroki deadpanned, finally escaping the children’s juvenile curiosity to make his way back over. Katsuki took some satisfaction in how IcyHot was a little less put together than he was a few minutes ago.

“Calling Ears for advice, you know she’s better at this than either of us.”

“She just got back from a mission,” Todoroki protested, “don’t you think she needs some rest?"

Katsuki looked at him. “Is she my friend or yours IcyHot? Now sync up with that radio I know you have.”

Todoroki rolled his eyes but pulled the radio out of his belt. A moment later Ears answered her phone and Katsuki connected his phone to his hearing aid-comm radio double feature unit.

“Having fun over there with Tweedledee, Tweedledum and Tweedleloud?” she asked. It was telling that Katsuki couldn’t tell whether she meant Todoroki, All Might and Present Mic or Todoroki, Valley Girl and wind bag. Though considering how far into the city they were from U.A only the former felt likely.

“Isn’t this cheating,” Todoroki muttered. The silence Katsuki and Kyoka threw at him was undercut by the screaming of children… and wind bag but Todoroki got the message.

“Yeah, okay.” To be fair, Glasses would have been on his ass if he didn’t even try. Katsuki raised a hand for silence and the pair turned their attention back to Gang Orca and the teacher.

“I’m sorry for being such a burden,” she bowed.

“My class is full of problem children. No matter what I do they refuse to listen and they’re already exasperating your young heroes.”

“Please, don’t worry ma’am,” Gang Orca assured her, “by day’s end I believe my trainees will have changed your students.”

Gang Orca looked over to the four of them. “The four of you will accomplish this task together.”

“Me and him!” Katsuki cried incredulously, pointing violently at the Shiketsu fuck.

“What’s wrong with that?” The wind bag returned like the only person he feels like he’s wronged is fucking Half-and-Half. And he still doesn’t get shit about why what he did to IcyHot was so fucking wrong.

“You hurt my friend!” Katsuki exploded, showing excellent control of his quirk by not blowing everyone to kingdom come. “And you sent IcyHot over there into a panic attack. And instead of apologising to either of them for it you want to move on like it didn’t happen!”

He turned to look up at where Endeavor and dumb and blonde were seated. “Maybe just maybe I'm projecting but people shouldn’t get to walk away after hurting those around them without any consequences!"

“You don’t have to put up a fight in my honour,” Muse soothed.

Katsuki scoffed, “why not? You’re not going to do it.”

He side-stepped out of the way of two kids trying to grab his gauntlets. Behind him Present Mic had jumped out of the stands and had taken over the table the commission fuckers were sitting that. Someone had let him get his hands on a microphone and the hall’s speaker system, which was just great.

“Any idea how to get them to not touch my stuff?”

“Cry and make them feel bad?”

“Ha ha.” Katsuki turned on his comm. “Yo, IcyHot. I need to put my gauntlets away before these kids blow us all up. You grab wind bag and Valley Girl and hold down the fort.”

Katsuki didn’t give him time to object, as he disappeared into the corridors and hurried briskly back to the lockers.

“Team Fish Turd seems to be floundering!” Present Mic’s voice echoed behind him.

“Please don’t go overboard.” The commission fucker advised meekly. Of course Present Mic completely ignored him.

“Let’s hear from their teacher, what do these kids need?”

“So much. These early elementary years are an important time for character development. Because the differences between children’s quirks have a huge effect on their self-esteem we offer counselling in order to support wealthy emotional growth. But counselling is not a cure all.”

Katsuki clicked his gauntlets off of his arms and hastily stuffed them back in their case. Memories of sparks popping in the well of palms that were still soft. Elementary school was where he learnt to be a jackass… the first but not the last time he was praised for it too. The locker slammed closed with a crash as Katsuki stalked out of the room like a predator on the prowl.

“The students in this class have completely closed their hearts to us. I understand that this is my responsibility, but still. I hoped meeting heroes who were working hard to achieve their dreams would help lead these kids down a more respectable path.”

Okay, so maybe Present Mic was useful for something. They wouldn’t have gotten any of that if Mr Aizawa had been there instead.

“Now doesn’t that sound familiar,” Kyoka chuckled. Katuski stepped back into the arena, rubbing uncomfortably at his bare wrists.

“Yeah yeah, but what worked for me isn't going to work for them Snitch,” Katsuki scanned the hall evaluating each of the kids, he already had an idea of what was going on but he wanted to make sure. While he was pretty good at reading people, he wasn’t perfect and no one could match Muse’s ability to read someone completely at a glance.

“I’m not expecting it to. But you regret it right?” The silence that followed was more than enough of an answer for Kyoka. “Then do for them what you wish someone had done for you.”

Someone should have stopped him before it got anywhere near as far as it did. Someone had to draw the line...

“I hate you,” Katsuki groaned. Fine then, he’d draw the line in the sand.

“No you don’t,” Todoroki declared decisively as he brought the two Shiketsu shitheads over so they could plan. “What’s the plan?”

“There’s always a hierarchy in situations like these,” Katsuki explained. “The teacher didn’t do her job and establish herself as a leader worthy of respect. If she isn’t the top dog then it must be one of the kids. First we figure out who it is.”

“And then?” Valley Girl prompted.

“I dunno, supplant the hierarchy?” Katsuki suggested.

“Bakugo.”

“Katsuki.”

Todoroki and Kyoka admonished him simultaneously.

“Fine,” Katsuki acquiesced. “We show them how impressive we are, their way, not ours. I mean, when you lose to someone you look down on you feel like crap, that’s not how you win people over. But when you elevate them…”

Katuski trailed off, already flushing at Kyoka’s smug cooing in the ensuing silence.

“We have to set them on the right path, otherwise they’ll end up causing problems later on. Just like I did,” wind bag asserted.

“Yeah,” Todoroki agreed, “if we can’t broaden their horizons, then what’s the point?”

“Alright then!” Valley Girl cheered. “Let's play!”

“And what about the leader?” Kyoka reminded him leadingly. “I happen to know a stubborn shithead just like them. They’re not going to go along that easily, especially when they think of themselves as grown up already.”

“Alright alright. The one in the suit’s the kid in charge, happy?”

“Of course you already know,” Todoroki smiled. Katsuki threw a middle finger at him.

“Like calls to like,” he justified casually. “Leave him to me.”

He gave the others a fanged smile, eyes glinting viciously.

“Sometimes you need a gentle shove from a bitch who won’t take no for an answer.”

“Aw,” the Snitch bitch cooed, “love you too.”

Todoroki stifled a chuckle and Katsuki bit down a scowl to ignore her, not wanting to look crazy in front of the Shiketsu Shits.

“Let’s get to work.”

Katsuki looked around at the landscape Todoroki and the Shiketsu Shits had created. The arena was chill like a brisk autumn day. The wind absently tussled any loose material that lingered near Yoarashi. When Todoroki breathed white puffs of water vapor spilled from his lips, not because they’d made it that cold but because his quirk made him the warmest thing in the room… well, except for Endeavor. The night sky filled the world around them as Camie wove a painting of light beneath the stars, a living, twisting aurora. She’d taken the world like a video game’s skybox and changed it entirely with barely a whisper. The boring sports hall and dull concrete walls whipped away for a winter wonderland at its centre, a massive ice sculpture given shape by wind and form from the material the brats' quirks had created.

He had to hand it to Vixen, Comet and Blitzen, they managed to nail the theme with very little direction. Especially Comet and Blitzen who had to coordinate heavily and on the fly to make sure the structure was sound, the objects were in the right place and the spires and slides carved and arched safely. The ice structure glittered like diamonds from the sun that shone through the skylight above, light still reaching even if it was hidden from sight by Vixen’s illusion.

Blitzen flew back and forth around teh structure, keeping his eye on the kids sliding down it as he lifted more into the air to ride again. This time he was careful of where he placed his wind when Comet threw flames around every once in a while. Katsuki let his hands spark like firecrackers, both to keep warm and because they were getting too restless for his liking.

“Feeling inadequate,” Kyoka commented.

Well… she wasn’t wrong. They had used their quirks in tandem to make all of this. All of them but him. Because his quirk, even though he’s figured out some creative ways to apply his quirk, has only ever been for destruction. His classmates on the other hand… utility was the name of their game and they could do wonders.

“Around you guys?” Katsuki murmured fondly. “I’m starting to get used to it.”

He disconnected from the call and sparked his hands clean again. Looking off to the outskirts of the area. He knew the prissy brat would be trying to avoid the fun on principle. Katsuki marched over to the kid who was glaring at the floor, the one thing Vixen couldn’t disguise, with indignation.

“Come on, let’s go,” Katsuki barked, grabbing the kid’s arm.

“What are you doing, get your hands off of me!”

Katsuki kept his grip firm even as the static in his hand worsened and he really needed to move them. His hands went stock stiff as he fought off the secondary urge to tighten them, carefully cognizant of the boy’s arm in his grasp. Everything in him wanted to use his hands to speak to offer the most vulnerable, direct sincerity he could. But the likelihood that this kid knew sign was slim to none. His friends really spoiled him on that, didn’t they? Knowing sign already, learning sign for their own purposes and the fuckers who’ve started picking it up for him. He’d have to learn to have a soft tongue at some point. Might as well start now.

“You’re their leader right? If you keep looking down on everyone, then you’ll never see your own weaknesses. Take it from someone who’s been where you are,” Katsuki told him without turning back as he effortlessly. “You’ll never enjoy the view from the top if you don’t have people to share it with.”

He shoved the kid towards Todoroki and Yoarishi.

“Todoroki, Yoarishi, you’re up.”

The pair obliged, Yoarashi with more confident excitement than the other.

“Huh, so you do know our names,” Todoroki commented, pleased before turning away and letting loose another rush of ice.

“Ah, shut up IcyHot.”

Katsuki looked down at his bare wrists again, the bulky gauntlets built to store and amplify (in a way) his powers. Gauntlets he didn’t have, a power he didn’t use. Katsuki snorted to himself as he glanced over at Gang Orca’s group who Camie had also caught up in her illusion too. The serious drill sergeant had lapsed in his attention to look pridefully at what they’d created, his pupils watching in awe. It was kind of obvious that the whole point of this was that you didn’t need power to save someone.

Music surreptitiously weaselled its way into his ear as Muse hijacked his bluetooth connection, damn Mei’s signal booster, even as she stayed off call to preserve his privacy. The memories of solid hands in his as they formed new shapes for the first time. Labing movement courses and physics propulsion calcs in the gyms. Kicking the ass of tired and awkward gangly limbs until they learnt how to kick back. A persistent fearless ray of sunshine decked in red. The pride in Pikachu's eyes the first time he signed a full sentence even when Katsuki’s first response was to correct it.

He didn’t need these kids, or Gang Orca, to teach him that.

Chapter Text

It had been a few days since the raid. Kyoka was packing up her things and heading back to the dorms like it was any other day. Katuski wasn’t joining her on the walk back. He had to go to his remedial classes later so he’d begrudgingly gone to have a stilted conversation with Todoroki. Koji had a group project he wanted to work on with Ojiro and Tokoyami.

She considered texting Hitoshi to see if he wanted to do some training together. Usually he’d have training with Aizawa on this day of the week. But Aizawa had had to cancel because Sir Nighteye’s wake was today. Kyoka only knew that because Aizawa had asked her and the other students involved in the Shie Hassaikai raid if they wanted to go.

She could hear Uraraka running up behind her. She’d just split off from the others that had been at the raid from the sharp staccato her theme was playing in rather than its normal lilting legato Kyoka could tell she was on edge. That or she was mad.

“Hey.” Okay, so Uraraka was tense, bordering on mad.

“Mr Aizawa, All Might and principal Nedzu are taking us to Sir Nighteye’s funeral. Why aren’t you coming?” Uraraka demanded. Of course, normative etiquette. It always came back to that didn’t it?

“Not to speak ill of the dead,” Kyoka deadpanned. “But I didn't like the guy much when he was alive. And I doubt that, if he had a choice, he’d invite me to his funeral either.”

“How can you be so sel-” Uraraka stumbled, gaze hard and stern. “So disrespectful.”

Kyoka sighed. “Believe what you want.”

Kyoka shouldered past her and kept walking, knowing that Uraraka was stomping after her, nipping at her heels. She knew that changing Uraraka’s mind was hell on earth and Kyoka wasn’t all that bothered with what the other girl thought of her. So long as she didn’t try to start a fight it’d be-

“It’s your fault he’s dead,” Uraraka hissed, grabbing Kyoka by the shoulder and turning her around. “You owe it to him to at least pay him some respect and say goodbye.”

… would it be fair to say ‘spoke too soon’? Kyoka felt her eye twitch. For someone dead set on ‘rescue’ and so against Kats’ more violent tendencies Uraraka was a very aggressive person. Kyoka took a deep, steadying breath, giving Uraraka a dark look from under her brow. She spared a moment for Uraraka’s theme but at this point she didn’t fucking care. She’d tried polite, she’d tried Gentle and for as much as she had shown her classmates how beautiful and helpful the Soundtrack was and could be… she’d never let them see how much she could make it hurt.

Their themes were them, raw and exposed. It was probably one of the only protections not having her own theme granted her’ though it would be kind of weird to be aware of her emotional and mental state from a (probably) objective, outside perspective. And for as blunt or crass as Kyoka could be, especially to Mineta and Ashido, she’d never used what she knew against them emotionally. The closest she had ever gotten was with Dabi, and that was a bid to save her life. For this kind of attack, she’d make an exception, because she didn’t appreciate, considering her own issues, the hollow eyes that filled her memories, having someone else’s grief and guilt projected onto her and being expected to take it.

Kyoka’s expression went blank. Her posture relaxed. She still looked at Uraraka intensely but her eyes were glazed and bored. If this was what Uraraka expected of her, then this was what she'd get… Too bad that was also her worst nightmare.

“By the time you arrived there was nothing you could do,” Kyoka told her bluntly. She told her like it was a fact and it echoed with a haunting certainty that it would always be true. Uraraka flinched, hand snapping away from Kyoka like she’d just been burnt.

“Well you-! You-” Uraraka stuttered.

“Are you going to blame Togata or Midoriya too?”

She continued unrelentingly. She twirled a jack around her finger like a secretary would look dismissively at talon sharp, perfectly manicured nails. Kyoka was making it abundantly clear, she was no punching bag, she was no scapegoat, she wasn’t going to play ball. “I wouldn’t. See, they already blame themselves for everything way too much, even if they try to hide it.”

Kyoka heard Uraraka’s jaw click.

“Oh, was I just a convenient target?” Kyoka intoned with faux surprise. Then returned to that bored, stone cold tone that brooked no argument. “Can’t handle your own guilt so you just have to find the first person you won’t feel bad about upsetting… and I didn't like the guy in the first place.”

Uraraka’s theme had diminished greatly, quieter and quieter in Kyoka’s ear but still loud enough to hear. So loud that it was the only thing Kyoka could focus on… because it was the only thing in the Soundtrack to hear. As Kyoka plucked notes and instruments and strings out with surgical precision and just cast them away like they weren’t worth the time.

“Go on,” she gestured encouragingly to Uraraka. “Tell me I let him die because I didn't like him. I dare you.”

Uraraka stayed silent. Begrudgingly, angrily, silent. But her body was tense and Kyoka could see, even if she didn’t have to, how every line in her body was holding back a brutal beatdown. But Kyoka had made abundantly clear that she wouldn’t be playing ball. So if Uraraka threw the first punch that would be her reprimand, and she would have to, to get what she wanted. But if Uraraka thought for a moment that Kyoka had been malignant so far. Well.

“Let me tell you something about yourself. You’re itching for a fight, some reason or way to just cut loose and the only reason you won’t throw the first punch is because that means you don’t look like a good person anymore.

“Which is kind of weird, you know?” Kyoka continued, voice hushed but steady. “because you think it’s your fault and you want someone to agree with you. Because you failed and you think that makes you a bad person.

“And I'm a bitch. A very aggressive, defensive bitch and you were counting on that. And maybe if you’d done this somewhere Katsuki could hear you would have gotten that fight you wanted.

“Except you’re also a coward who wants to feel good about herself. Who wants to win.

“So let’s get one thing clear. Ochaco. Uraraka. Uravity there was nothing you could do.”

She started counting off on her fingers as she spoke.

“It didn’t matter if you were stronger, or faster, or smarter.

“There was nothing you could do.”

She reached out and put a Gentle yet firm hand on Uraraka’s shoulder. She flinched and impossibly tensed even more. The look Uraraka gave Uraraka turned soft and genuine, a stark contrast from the apathetic blankness from moments before and certainly not what Uraraka would have been expecting. Uraraka couldn’t bear to look at Kyoka’s face anymore. But she also couldn’t take her eyes away from the hand that rested heavily on her shoulder. Kyoka’s tone also shifted.

“And I forgive you,” Kyoka finished, deceptively condescending. Then she swiftly let go of Uraraka, turned on her heel and then walked away.

This time Uraraka didn’t follow her. But Kyoka didn’t care enough to even look back.

A little while later, before they were all set to leave for the funeral, Mr Aizawa was lingering in the common room waiting for them to come down. She could hear Nedzu sitting calmly nearby while All Might apparently had been instructed to get the third years. Kyoka was just passing through, a gym bag slung over her shoulder as she was on her way to meet up with Hitoshi. Considering her little scene with Uraraka earlier she did not want to be around when they came down. She did do a double take when she saw Mr Aizawa though, partly because it was always odd, or at least bad, when any of them had seen him in anything formal before. The teacher tended to stick to professional… the hero kind anyway. The only difference was that this time he hadn’t bothered to shove or tidy up his hair.

“How many ties do you have sir?” Kyoka commented as she approached, ignoring the marsupial sipping tea on the couch.

“It’s one of Nedzu’s… they’re all Nedzu’s,” he deadpanned, nodding over to his boss.

“Quite,” principal Nedzu agreed affably. “Miss Jiro, I am disheartened to hear you won’t be joining us.”

“Don’t even,” Kyoka raised a stern hand to him. “Don’t.”

“Before you go,” Mr Aizawa interjected. “The other heroes and the staff were discussing the state of the work studies going forwards.”

“Right?” Kyoka prompted, giving him her attention.

“Fat Gum, Ryukyu and Centipeder believed it would be best to suspend them considering what you’ve all been through and U.A has agreed with that course of action.”

“Right, that sounds reasonable enough?” Kyoka did not see where this was going.

“Right. I was wondering if you wanted to continue our work study in light of recent events. As your teacher and mentor you are the only second opinion I would logically pursue.” That was sweet, even if it was a bald faced lie. Admittedly Nighteye's death hadn’t hit Kyoka as hard as the others, not least because of their mutual animosity. But Mr Aizawa was not known to treat his students with kid gloves and this could conceivably look like he was.

“While work studies with those three agencies are suspended, others are still ongoing of course. Tokoyami will still be working with Hawks, but as we were also involved in the raid. So?”

“I’m not that bothered,” Kyoka cut him off. “I didn’t want to do a work study in the first place. I only signed on because you all asked me to help out. So I'm fine with terminating the contract early.

“You can put the time we would have spent together into training Shinso instead.” she paused and gave him a grin, motioning to her gym bag. “You don’t mind if Kat’s, Koji or I tagged along, would you?”

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?” Mr Aizawa grumbled rhetorically.

“Nope,” Kyoka beamed as she walked out.

A pensive Nedzu turned to his old student, a sharp gleam in his eye.

“What a peculiar student you have, Shota. I see now why this class has you wrapped around their fingers,” he teased before cackling maniacally.

There was a knock at Kyoka's door, which was… unexpected. She wasn’t waiting for anyone, for one her friends would send her a message before coming up; not least because Hitoshi would need to be let in at the front door anyway. But most of her other classmates didn’t bother to knock anyway, knowing that she would be expecting them regardless. The only ones who would were the posh ones, Ashido and Midoriya. And no one would dare to just walk in without her permission unless they wanted to die. Either way she opened the door to see what Todoroki wanted.

“Did you have a moment to talk?” he asked promptly.

“Sure,” she shrugged, letting him cyanide, “is this about Dabi?”

Todoroki froze and turned to look at Kyoka blankly as her door clicked shut. Todoroki blinked twice.

“I had forgotten about that actually,” Todoroki admitted. “Dabi’s my brother. My dead older brother…”

“Dabi has tried to kill us and odds aren’t bad that he hates your dad…” Kyoka reminded him. Honestly Kyoka would bet money that attempted patricide was in their future and that was without the Soundtrack’s influence. “Which makes him more sane than most people.”

“Oh, that’s what I wanted to talk about,” Todoroki recalled.

“Attempted patricide?” Kyoka asked, looking at him oddly. Todoroki frowned at her.

“Endeavor.”

“That’s what I said,” Kyoka shrugged.

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, both blinking at each other slowly. In the end, Todoroki looked away first.

“Bakugo informed me that you and him were eavesdropping on my conversation with Midoriya at the sports festival, is that true?” which kind of felt redundant considering their interaction so far.

“Yep,” Kyoka nodded, popping the p.

“And the recording?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Todoroki nodded, heading back towards the door. “That’s all I needed, thank you.”

Kyoka stared blankly at where he’d just disappeared out of the room… okay then.

“Remind me again why we all have the same homework?” Hitoshi groaned, collapsing back against the table. He was working on an English assignment. Kyoka reached over from the bed she was laying on to absently pet his hair. She was chewing on her pencil trying to work through a maths worksheet. Katsuki was pretty sure that it was actually a science worksheet but at this level what was the difference really?

“Because the Hero Course is just Gen Ed with two extra classes stapled onto it, you’re really not missing that much,” Katsuki deadpanned. He was sat at Kyoka’s desk to minimise the contamination risk he posed. His laptop sat on the desk in front of him as he was researching and taking notes for an art history essay he had to write. Admittedly he wasn’t giving it his full attention, his chair angled so he could see his friends scattered around the room.

“They’re unqualified hacks without a creative bone in their body but at least they know how to standardise,” Koji deadpanned, he sat opposite Hitoshi on the floor, their stuff scattered on the low box in the centre of the room. He was hesitantly poking at the next chapters of their biology textbook. Despite knowing a lot about animal taxonomy and zoology, and thus biology, learning about human biology and seeing diagrams or pictures in theri textbook set off his squeamish sensibilities.

Katsuki groaned, leaning back to stretch.

“How about a break?” he proposed. Koji and Hitoshi groaned in relief. Kyoka took a moment to consider it before nodding in agreement. She sat up and held her paper out.

“Someone check that for me real quick?” she asked. Katsuki obliged, knowing the other two would not want to think about maths right now. Kyoka pointed to his laptop and made grabby hands for it, willing to return the favour by looking over and adding notes to his mind map.

The moment the device was in his hands and she’d had a second to read his topic header she was typing away. Kyoka, like Katsuki, didn’t like doing work for people but he knew when he got his laptop back it would have a list of obscure resources and examples for him to check out and a couple notes on how to reconsider and recontextualize his treatment of the question and the material he’d already selected. Katsuki meanwhile just grabbed a pencil from Kyoka’s desk to circle the questions she got completely wrong or the part of an equation where she miscalculated something and everything went off the rails from there.

Picking up from their cue, Koji reached over for Hitoshi's work to take a look at too. Hitohis obviously wanted to do the same but Koji had just been trying to do some revision, not any homework. Still he picked up the biology textbook and skimmed the page. His own face twisted up slightly in disgust the further he skimmed.

“Do you think you’d be able to handle it better if I read it to you and described the images instead of reading and seeing it for yourself?” Hitoshi suggested. Koji considered it for a moment.

“Worth a shot,” he agreed, without prompting, Katsuki turned his hearing aids off, nudging Kyoka to get her headphones on as she walked over to hand her worksheet back.

He took the opportunity to wander around Kyoka’s room to stretch his legs. Eventually he paused in front of her bookshelf, gazing down to the binders that recorded the Soundtrack before inevitably drifting to the collection of worn black notebooks nearby. Anything from the Soundtrack was transferred into the binders to keep as a professional, preserved, historical record. But everything left in the notebooks were all her. Kyoka’s personal creative work kept rough and messy. Katsuki reached out to grab one, but hesitated. He needed to know, but how did he know which one was the right one?

Then Kyoka appeared at his side. He snapped around to look at her, then at the bed where she just was. His laptop lay shut on top of her bedsheets. Then looked back to Kyoka who had already pulled out a notebook from the collection

“You want to go to the other room while they work?” Kyoka signed. Katsuki gave her a Sideways nod, grabbed his computer and followed her out of the room and into the music room, turning his heaving back on as they went.

He posted up in the corner of the room, opening a new window to do some light reading. If he was really into whatever Kyoka was playing he’d migrate over to the drums and see if he could jam out something to complement it.

First she reached out for the bass guitar, the instrument she was most familiar with despite her multi-instrumentalism, but then decided against it. He figured she would go for the acoustic guitar next considering it’s what she defaulted to when she played in the common room in her free time. Instead she grabbed one of her electric guitars and a music stand. She bypassed plugging the device into an amp or her headphones instead just grabbing a plectrum and warming up with a few basic exercises.

It didn’t take long for her to move on to playing what she’d come up with in the notebook. A lot of it were riffs and melodies carefully constructed for a song or musical reasons but to test the limits of her technical skills by combining complex techniques used in all disciplines of guitar playing. It created a sort of medley effect as Kyoka flowed from picking to strumming, from chords and rhythms to melodies and riffs. All the while she jumped from genre to genre, between scales and time signature and musical styles. If Katsuki were to play along he knew he’d have a hard time keeping up, even with the sheet music in front of him. For one, as good as he was he couldn’t sight read. And two he didn’t know enough about music theory and genre conventions to fit the vibe of everything she could play.

Because Kyoka wasn’t just multi-instrumental and also multi-disciplinary.

Sometimes she’d pause, change a few things she’d written in the book. Sometimes she’d stop playing original stuff and play a song Katsuki would recognise, or not, from one of her many playlists. The first time she did it he paused what he was doing to look over at her, only to find that she didn’t have any reference material in front of her and was playing completely off the cuff.

He didn’t know how long they were in the room but eventually Hitoshi and Koji slipped in to join them. Which is when he heard a familiar harmony. Her hands jumped up and down the fretboard as they tried to figure out the chords and rhythm she wanted to use. The phantom memory of a drum line echoed in his head and Katsuki set his laptop aside and took a seat at the drum kit. He counted himself in as Kyoka obligingly repeated the last four bars. He put his foot on the high-hat pedal, depressing them and joined in on the second bar, just playing the quavers on the high-hat. On the second he added the rest of the rhythm. His right foot hitting the bass drum’s pedal while his right hand used the other drumstick on the snare drum.

He never played all three at the same time and the snare drum only on the on-beat of beat two and four until he got to the parts where he remembered short drum breakdowns when the guitars or piano had a riff or solo.

Kyoka stopped playing abruptly and Katsuki, unsure whether this was the end of what she’d written or where a drum solo would go, did a bit of a finishing flare before ending with the crash symbol.

“Not bad,” Kyoka grinned, looking over her shoulder at him. Katsuki shrugged watching as she expertly noted down his rhythm and breakdown on a corner of the page.

“What song was that?” Katsuki asked. He didn’t know what to thank for such a convenient answer to his investigative curiosity.

“This?” Kyoka shrugged vaguely and sheepishly. “I, ah, it’s nothing much. It’s… just something I've been putting together.”

Katsuki already knew the answer but he asked it anyway.

“You wrote it?”

Katuki’s thoughts were whirring as he tried to suppress the sharpest grin he could. Kyoka was writing the song that he’d heard at Kamino, the song that had presumably come from the Soundtrack; because he wasn’t crazy. Kyoka’s song.

“Huh, oh, yeah,” Kyoka confirmed. Half embarrassed and half distracted as she put the music stuff away. She looped a jack around her finger like most would play with her hair. “But it’s nothing that amazing or anything.

“It’s incomplete,” Katsuki observed, both as a statement and as a refutation of Kyoka diminishing her own abilities.

“Well yeah,” Kyoka scrunched up her shoulders. “I’m still working on it.”

Katsuki knew what he had to do. Get Kyoka to finish that song.

Chapter Text

A dissonant twang rang from the yellow electric guitar in Kaminari’s arms. He winced even as Kyoka laughed good-naturedly. Tokoyami chittered nearby though most of his concentration was on figuring out the timing of the rhythm of the bassline Kyoka had set him. He mimed the movements over the bass guitar Kyoka had given them, counting the beats with the clicks of his beak. Kyoka gently eased Kaminari’s wrist into a better position over the fretboard and guided his other hand through the proper picking motion that didn’t threaten to snap a wire string but it was obvious he was more made for strumming at the moment than the picking needed to pull off a riff.

Originally when she’d come down to practice with her acoustic guitar the pair were doing their little book club thing. Sero was languishing without someone to pay attention to his dramatic ass, struggling to respectfully show interest but with absolutely nothing to do. Sato was in the kitchen, which was a sucker’s bet. Shoji meanwhile wasn’t helping him because Sato, like Katsuki, saw kitchen space as sacred and that they should not be disturbed, but he was asking a lot of questions. Of course the moment something new and of interest walked into the room Sero jumped at the chance to interact. Which led to both Kaminari and Tokoyami asking for a lesson like they hadn’t already both gotten ‘private lessons’ from her already. Of course it more so seemed like they both wanted to show off how cool, or how much they were learning to each other.

But of course she caved and obliged because genuine excitement and interest in her craft was something she was unused to. Mostly because, well, before U.A Kyoka admittedly didn’t do friends… or people, much. So she’d grabbed Shoji and had come back with her bass and an electric guitar for the pair. Leaving Sero just as dramatically miserable as he was before she came in, even when Todoroki came down to grab some cold soba and just ended up lingering.

The first thing Tokoyami and Kaminari noticed was that their instruments were different. The second, that Kyoka was teaching them different styles and techniques. Which means they started doing something Kyoka was giddy about, comparing notes and taking technique and theory.

“So is that a rhythm guitar?” Tokoyami asked, nodding to Kaminari’s yellow electric guitar.

“No, that’s just an electric guitar,” Kyoka corrected.

“But what about lead and rhythm?” Kaminari asked like someone who's heard terminology in passing or through band interviews.

“Those are roles in the band, not instruments.”

“But the bass has its own kind of guitar and it’s a role,” Shoji interjected. It felt like he was being a devil’s advocate by getting her to explain the very basics. But then again one should never assume that everyone knew the basics.

“The bass has a different number of strings,” Todoroki observed blandly as if that explained everything. Which it technically was.

“That helps it support its role in the band since the bass is part of the rhythm section.”

“Okay, now I'm confused,” Kaminari groaned.

“Let me finish.” Kyoka nudged Kaminari in the side.

“The bass is in the same group with the drums because how the notes are played is more important than what notes. Timing is the most important part.”

Tokoyami was nodding in clear understanding but Kaminiari was looking even more lost. So Kyoka had to pivot, taking a moment to find an analogy that would make sense with him. “The rhythm section is like a story’s backbone. Like the spine of a book or the plot of your story. Which would make the melody like a main character?”

“Which would be the lead guitar?” Kaminari tried awkwardly.

“Right,” Kyoka grinned and Kaminari lit up.

“So what’s the rhythm guitar for if it isn’t for the rhythm?” Sato asked over the top of all their heads.

“Well, it is,” Kyoka informed them.

Everyone stared at her in blank silence. Kyoka took a moment to figure out how to explain this.

“The rhythm guitarist is the supporting cast because its job is to do everything except the melody; which means it has to make the melody sound better.” they were following so far. “Sometimes the rhythm guitarist supports the rhythm section, doing all or half of it depending on the composition of the band. But other times it supports the harmony, all of half, with things like chords.”

“Like a jack of all trades?” Sero asked, finally done with languishing dramatically for long enough to join them.

“Pretty much.”

“Lead gets the complicated stuff, bass has to keep the time and rhythm goes wherever it’s needed,” Kaminari summarised, and that was spot on.

“Some of this is easier to understand with demos but you’ve basically got it down,” Kyoka shrugged, then she looked at Tokoyami and Kaminari in turn. “Actually if you two want to go through the exercises I gave you in turns and it’ll be a bit more obvious.”

“Which one of us do you want to go first?”

Kyoka hummed. “The bass has four strings, so the maximum number of notes it can play at once is four and it very rarely does that. When you play the bass you’re almost entirely picking.”

Tokoyami took the cue. He played a thirty-eight second that repeated the same rhythmic pattern all the way through. The general pattern of the notes was a triad of up steps then three downward notes at set intervals on each downbeat. The intervals never jumped above an octave difference and the bassline in general suggested a very swing-noir song in an E minor key.

“That’s the Pink Panther theme,” Sero pointed out. Tokoyami looked startled like he genuinely hadn’t noticed that until Sero mentioned it.

“Yeah, it’s hard to figure out what you’re playing when you’re figuring out how to play it,” Kyoka reassured him.

“Okay, so that’s picking. Next you have chords which have you play a lot of notes at once. Put a pin in that, we’ll get back to it. On a piano that starts at three notes and goes up, only because two notes is an interval. But on the guitar they’re made up of every string on the board. That’s six notes. Chords are harder to play on the guitar because you need consistent, even pressure on every string against the fretboard. But the technique is called strumming, brushing all the strings on an up stroke, or a down stroke.”

She grabbed her guitar from Kaminari and played the C major chord, G major chord, A minor chord and F major chord with a simple downstroke strum.

“That looks way too simple,” Kaminari protested.

“Which is where rhythm comes in again.” She passed the guitar back to Kaminari. “Here, play what I showed you.”

He played the same four chords that Kyoka had, but in the pattern of: down, down down-up-down, down-down-up.

“Keep your wrist a little looser,” Kyoka advised, tapping Kaminari’s right hand. “But that’s much more interesting now, isn’t it?”

“Here’s another one. Some notes, different rhythm.”

Kyoka took the guitar from Kaminari and played the chords again, but this time the pattern was: down-up-down-up, up-down-up. A natural emphasis slipping into the final downbeat.

“Sounds completely different right? So a rhythm guitarist does the chords and the picking alternatively and at the same time. And here’s that asterisk, you can also pick chords by playing them as arpeggios, each note one after the other. Mix in partial arpeggios with picked intervals and you’re starting to write riffs.”

She handed the guitar back to Kaminari before she continued her impromptu lecture.

“The lead guitar is usually the primary soloist and mostly does picking, but since they’re on a regular guitar, both the bass, they have a lot more freedom with the number of notes they use. Guitar riffs are usually mostly picking because chords usually have you slow down and hold, which is why they’re such good finishers. But that paus can also be used for effect, taking a breather before ramping things up.”

Kaminari started strumming at the guitar without rhyme or reason. He danced around the area where they were all sitting, Kyoka’s guitar gripped tightly in his hands. Which was probably why things sounded so dissonant since every finger was barred on the guitar’s neck. Sero and Sato laughed good-naturedly while Kyoka, Shoji, Todoroki and Tokoyami snickered under their breaths.

“I’m rocking out and it’s so cool but I think we all know who could do this better!” Kaminari caterwauled, purposefully and ridiculously off key. He winked at his little crowd because howl his performance could use work Kaminari certainly had stage presence down. Then, he got on one knee and presented Kyoka with her guitar dramatically. “C’mon, just one song. Please?”

Kyoka sighed, smiling at him fondly. “Fine, just one.”

For the sake of it she decided to play rhythm instead of lead. The opening instrumental began with half a bar held on each chord in the progression. Then she repeated the progression with a basic down-up semiquaver rhythm. Pausing for a beat, picking a transition note before playing the final chord on the second downbeat and rocketing into a more complex pattern that mixed picking and chords. When she started singing she started playing the chords in arpeggios.

“No matter how I try, the more that I walk

The soles of my shoes, they keep picking up dirt

No different to us, the more we hurt

The souls in our hearts, they just keep getting cloudy.”

Going into the second verse she played the chords in long sustained strums with a few transition notes in between.

“And when it gets too hard, and nothing seems to work

I think about the reason why you kept pushing forward I meant to be the saviour but you saved me instead

I tried to hold your hands but you just help me in the end.”

The first bar of the storms she didn't play a note, letting the melody carry the momentum before kicking it in the second bar onwards.

“I hope the light will shine upon the journey ahead

I promise that our strength will overcome all our weakness

And each step you take on the road to the future

Is yet another win for the brave and fearless.

Like filling up your lungs right before you scream

Or when you get a running start before you leap

We all need to cry, so someday we’ll smile

And none of us believe that it means we’ve lost

Long hope philia.”

After she sang the last note of the chorus, Kyoka played the bridge as a guitar solo, transitioning from rhythm and harmony into a new melodic pattern before finally ending in a downward flourish.

“You’re uncertain about performing, but you play for us all the time,” Shoji said, apropos of nothing as he helped Kyoka take her guitars back to her room. “Why is that? Why not play in the comfort of your music room where nobody can disturb you?”

“It’s complicated,” Kyoka shrugged and Shoji nodded in understanding. “Honestly I started doing it for the same reason Tokoyami doesn’t always read in his room.”

“Excuse me?”

“We both know he gets through less material when we’re all around to distract him,” Kyoka elaborated. Shoji nodded along, having noticed the pattern too. To her this was blatantly obvious considering the discrepancies between how fast Tokoyami went through books on the weekends and how he never seemed to be able to finish one across three weekdays. But, other than Kaminari, it was admittedly pretty unused that anyone would be able to keep track of that unless they were specifically keeping track of Tokoyami; which Shoji did, even if unintentionally whenever he asked how a certain character was doing since the last time Tokoyami described ‘the story so far’ to him. “That’s how we ended up with this impromptu music lesson in the first place; and also why Kaminari never brings a book downstairs either unless it’s so he can talk to Tokoyami.

“But Tokoyami chooses to try and read here because it gives him something to do while interacting with us. On the one hand it’s a barrier, but it's also an excuse to connect.”

Kyoka was perfectly aware how much of her own psyche she was giving away in this conversation even with the veil of comparison.

“I’m used to having an instrument in my hands so I like having something to keep my hands busy.”

She paused, then rubbed at her arms nervously. Her tone turned sheepish.

“Besides, my dad’s always on my case to perform more. ‘What good is making music when you have no one to give it to?’ It took me a while to really… believe that. I mean, the Soundtrack exists, music that no one can hear everywhere, all the time. So… yeah.”

“You listen to the Soundtrack,” Shoji reminded her. “And even though people very rarely pay attention to the incidental music, without it the experience of a game or movie or show would be much lesser.”

Kyoka nodded obligingly, because he wasn’t wrong but it had taken her years to figure that out. Years to count herself because no one else did… and neither had the Soundtrack.

“I tried to ignore that part of myself for a long time. I’ve kept it a secret for even longer. Even now I hesitate to think that the Soundtrack was… composed for me,” Kyoka shook her head. “I’m not that self-absorbed.”

“But now we know.”

“And now I have people to share my music with.”

Chapter Text

“It’s October now,” Mr Aizawa began tiredly. “And I know you know what that means. It’s time to start preparing for the school festival.”

“Are you sure this is okay Mr Aizawa?” Kirishima protested. His theme had been despondent lately, despite his prior triumphs and their accompanying epic instrumentals. The rock elements, like the drums and guitar, had disappeared. As had the heroic brass lines that complemented the violin melody. The melody didn’t crescendo as it did in his epic or triumphant moments, instead it just stayed soft and low with each note drawn out a little longer without the bass to add more energy to it. And sure, not every moment needed to be epic and when they were in class the Soundtrack brought everyone’ themes into equilibrium to not be as overwhelming. But the absence of his energetic bass was cause for concern. “There are villains everywhere right now. Crime rates are the highest they’ve been since All Might first debuted in Japan, the league are still out there and active and… and-”

We’re just sitting around doing nothing, Kyoka filled in in her head. But they were also kids, still learning, and despite the league repeatedly targeting them they weren’t class 1A’s responsibility. Kyoka glanced at Midoriya, Todoroki and Uraraka. Though they did insist on making things personal.

“Kirishima has a point, but there are students here besides those in the hero course,” Mr Aizawa reminded them. “You get the spotlight during the sports festival, this is for everyone else. While it may not get as much attention it is still a yearly event that they all look forward to. Many of them are stressed right now because of the new conditions put into place because of the hero course.”

“Well, when you put it like that I guess it’d be unfair to cancel it,” Kirishima admitted, sitting back down.

“That’s why it’s still on, and hopefully everyone will enjoy it. In accordance with our new security policy this festival will only be open to U.A students and staff, with a few exceptions.” From there Mr Aizawa picked up his sleeping bag and tucked himself into the corner of the room behind his desk. “You may not be the focus but you’re still required to participate with some kind of official programming. You have until the end of the day. Iida, Yaoyorozu.”

Having officially handed over all responsibility to the class reps he let his hair curtain his face to hide his closed eyes to take a nap.

“Okay, as Class Representative it’s my duty to facilitate the process from here, let’s have a quick brainstorming session. Raise your hand if you have an idea and we’ll put it on the board,” Iida reasoned. Yaomomo pulled a dry erase marker out of her arm, poised to start writing on the whiteboard. Almost everyone’s hands shot up at the same time. At that point it would have been more convenient to just ask everyone for one idea in register order.

No one suggested anything out of character, though there were a lot of impractical and weird ideas. Like Hagakure, who suggested a fun house and when asked to clarify whether she meant the boring hall of mirrors kind, the more complex mirror maze illusion kind, or the Coney Island absurd kind never said anything. Instead she giggled madly and ehr entire countenance went devious. Katsuki did suggest a jousting competition like they were running a medieval fair, but he went after Tokoyami who suggested ‘mad banquet of darkness’ so Kyoka figured he was being a little shit and ‘staying on theme’. Once all of the suggestions had been taken in, Yaomomo stepped up.

“Alright, let’s cut out the stuff that’s unfeasible, unspecific or boring.”

“What if we put all the good stuff together?” Sero suggested, noticing how many of their items were food related.

“It would be kind of weird to offer a bunch of random food though,” Kyoka argued. Soba did not go well with crepes and Kyoka wasn’t sure a ‘traditional café’ meant an Edo period ochaya or a nineteenth century French coffee shop. One did not work well with crepes while it would be odd to see mochi in the other.

“This is going to be more difficult than we expected,” Iida bemoaned, just as the bell rang to signal the start of class. Mr Aziawa folded himself out of his sleeping bag and stalked out of the door as Yaomomo started wiping down the board after taking a picture of what they’d written on it.

“Well, you’ll have to decide what you’ll do tonight or we’ll go with my idea,” Aizawa shrugged, he paused at the door and gave them a sly teasing look as he turned back to all of them. “An hour long PSA.”

There was a beat of silence, the class filled with dread. Kyoka meanwhile let loose a snort and matched his expression.

“Oh, so my idea then,” she joked, imagining those trite American PSA’s in her head. Mr Aizawa grunted to hide a snort as he slid the door swiftly shut, leaving her classmates looking at Kyoka incredulously for back talking to their teacher. Except for Koji and Katsuki who had spent enough time around Aizawa via Hitoshi to know that, so long as the belligerence didn’t bleed into disobedience, he enjoyed cynicism and snark.

They didn’t have time to bring it up again as a class until they were back at the dorms that evening, and even then they were still down a few people. Kyoka sat on the couch leaning against Katsuki so he could see her phone as they watched urban exploration and escape parkour videos while they waited for everyone to arrive. On the one hand, new techniques, on the other, obstacle course ideas to curse Hitoshi with. Ashido sat on his other side, pressed awkwardly in the corner to avoid invading their personal space. Iida and Yaomomo were on the other couch, a laptop between them as they did some basic feasibility surveys of the different ideas that weren’t vetoed that morning.

“Where’s the raid team?” Sero asked once everyone available had gathered around the common area.

“They’re catching up on extra classes. So we’ll have to pick for them,” Kaminari told them, perching on the armrest next to Kyoka.

“What about you?” Sero continued, looking at her. She shrugged as she put her phone away.

“I only missed two days of school total because I was brought on late. I’ve already caught up.” She nudged Katsuki in the side. “I’m more surprised you’re here considering it’s pretty late.”

Katsuki grunted but didn’t say anything as Iida interjected to keep them on task.

“Now that things have quieted down I have some thoughts about our list,” he began solemnly. “It’s obvious that we’ve caused strain on the other students. It might make sense to choose something that would raise their spirits to make it up to them.”

“I don’t disagree,” Yaomomo continued. “We’re aiming to be heroes. We should be aware of the problems we’ve caused for others.”

“With that in mind I don't think we can offer them a meal that will satisfy them,” Iida argued. Katsuki huffed like he disagreed with the sentiment, which he did. But that was mostly because he knew he’d be doing most of the cooking if that’s what they went with; him and Sato anyway. “There has to be another way to offer them service.”

“We have to keep their needs in mind,” Shoji stepped in. “If we're the only ones having fun the event will be a disaster.”

“Kay, so what then?” Hagakure chirped, leaning over and into Yaomomo’s space to get a better look at the computer she and Iida were sharing.

“We focus on experiences,” Yaomomo decided.

“I still say a comedy set would be fun,” Kyoka pointed out.

“Yeah, but watching amateurs perform can get frustrating,” Sero chuckled nervously. Something about his tone told Kyoka that he was speaking from experience.

“Why don’t we just have a giant dance party?” Ashido whined, falling across Katsuki's lap dramatically. Her head landed on Katsuki's thigh and they looked at each other awkwardly for a moment before Ashido rolled onto the floor with a thump of her own accord.

“Dancing, that’s a good idea,” Todoroki mused idly. Kyoka glanced back at where he was sitting, slightly bemused by the fact that he’d dragged a chair from the dining area to sit on and watch because he’d be too awkward standing behind Yaomomo and Iida like the other boys.

“Wait, you mean you’d be into that?” Ashido asked, surprised. She picked himself up off of the floor, but decided to stay on the ground, sprawling her entire upper body across the coffee table like a starfish and watching them all Sideways.

“Hang on, I don't know what it’s called exactly but people seem to enjoy it,” Todoroki said. Kaminari slipped off of the armrest and behind Kyoka to let him by as he came over to the computer and looked something up in a new tab. Kyoka leaned over to get a better look at what he’d pulled up. A camera panned over the backs and tops of unlit heads, arms holding phones or glow sticks in the air. Floodlights lit up a band performing on stage over the sound of cheering people.

“A concert,” Kyoka deadpanned incredulously. “You don’t know what a concert is called.”

“Well,” Sato tilted his head as he watched the screen in consideration for a moment. “Technically it’s more like a rave.”

“That’s not what I expected from someone like you,” Mineta mumbled, giving Todoroki the stink eye, but Todoroki just ignored him.

“If we want to provide stress relief for the other courses maybe we should focus on something that offers entertainment for everyone.”

“Kind of like our remedial course training?” Katsuki realised, snapping his fingers and pointing at Todoroki who nodded in agreement. Kyoka snorted, gauging everyone’s expressions as they all came to the same general ‘what are they teaching in those classes?’ thoughts.

“Interesting,” Iida mused. “Singing and dancing huh?”

“But none of us dance,” Sero pointed out anxiously. Considering his comment about standing up earlier Kyoka figured Sero got bad cases of second hand embarrassment.

“Oh, oh!” Ashido cheered, jumping to her feet and posing dramatically. “No problemo! I’m a breakdancing queen! I can choreograph a routine and teach it to everyone!”

She backflipped away from the couches, thankfully not over the cable and launched into a complicated (set? of) breakdancing moves that Kyoka could only describe as ‘spin’. Why was she represented by disco again? Right, her personality was more pop than edge.

“Yeah, Mina could teach us!” Kaminari cheered as Ashido finished the move with a one-armed handstand pose, her legs kicked up above her head. Seeing her show off was starting to get everyone excited as the beat picked up in the Soundtrack with a slightly altered version of Ashido’s theme took point.

“Hold on!” Mineta interrupted. “No good dance show is complete without music!”

“Well if we’re talking about music!” Hagakure piped up, and now everyone was looking at her. Katsuki had his hands crossed smugly as he leaned back into the couch. Across the way Ashido was pouting at her, hands braced against the table.

Kyoka felt her face heat up, which just made Katsuki even more smug and she turned away to the other side of the room, only to stare directly at Kaminari who was peering around the side of the couch excitedly and Todoroki’s mirthful smirk looked down at her from over Kaminari’s head. Iida was the only one not looking at her as he put a hand on his chin in deep contemplation. Yaomomo had tried to make her face professionally neutral but it was clear she was waiting for an answer. In the end Hagakure jumped in again before hse could muster the words.

“Why don’t we perform live with all your instruments!”

“Hagakure!” Kyoka protested.

“Come on!” Hagakure pleaded, scrambling over Yaomomo and Iida’s laps and around Todoroki’s back to scoop up Kyoka’s hands in hers. “Even when you’re practising or warming up you play with your heart and soul. I bet everyone would love to hear you rock out!”

Kyoka bit her lip, hesitant to pull her hands away despite how weak Hagakure's grip was even as she folded in on herself. She just knew Katsuki was being unbearably smug behind her and she refused to raise her gaze from where Hagakure’s invisible hands met hers because that meant being able to see Koji’s hands.

The prospect of performing wasn’t nerve wracking. It was annoying but she could do it. Sensory overload be damned, there were ways to work around having the Soundtrack pounding the songs of a large number of unfamiliar people in her head while having to focus on what she and her band was playing while people were cheating and screaming all around them; it involved hours of rote memorisation, utter faith in her team, and absolute silence from the diegetic world or an audio track system so complex it would make Tom Hooper blush. There was a reason why, when the future was to be a musician, the plan was to release albums and singles only, be a predominantly solo act and avoid going on tour.

No, the nerve-wracking part was the pride and joy and appreciation being thrown her way from every beat of the Soundtrack and Kyoka did not know how red her face was and she didn’t want to.

“When you teach you light up like a supernova,” Tokoyami continued, his eyes glinting fondly, “able to chase the darkest evils away and bring a light to this weary soul.”

“I-” Kyoka stammered, ducking her head behind her hands so they couldn’t see her face.

“Come on guys,” Kaminari interjected, stepping in front of her again. “She said no. Even if it'd be super awesome to see her perform her heart out with how many instruments she can play, Jiro's said she’s not comfortable with putting on a show.”

Kaminari glanced back at Kyoka, meeting the corner of her eye briefly. “It’s her heart and soul right? If she wants to share it then that’s her decision.”

If the universe could just spontaneously swap her and Hagakure’s quirks right now that would be very much appreciated. But of course that didn’t happen, instead Katsuki started poking at her to get her attention.

“Yo Ears.”

“What?” Kyoka snapped hotly, turning to face him.

“You’re doing it,” Katsuki told her in a knowing tone that brooked no arguments. She blinked at him, unsure whether or not he was going to make her do it, in which case she would drag him down with her, or because he knew she’d give in despite her embarrassment because she’d hate to disappoint anyone.

“Bakugou-” Yaomomo started as if to admonish him. But she was interrupted by Koji's high pitched, light voice.

“Kyoka, why not use your skill to make other people smile!” Koji smiled encouragingly.

“They’ve kept you quiet for years, show them how much of a mistake that was by letting them hear you roar!” Katsuki rumbled. They stared at each other intensely for a moment and Kyoka felt her resolve crumble. She jolted her head away and started to toy nervously with her jacks.

“I…I can’t perform all the parts by myself you know,” she stuttered, grasping at the last excuse she could that might be able to get her out of this. “If we’re going to do this I'm going to need a band.”

“Nice try, Snitch bitch,” Katsuki chortled, “but you’ve got your band right here.”

He pointed his thumb at himself, “I've got the drums, and we both know that that’s the backbone of any band.”

“Yes,” Tokoyami agreed, stepping up himself, “and you’ve been teaching me and Dark Shadow how to play the bass.”

“I’ve got guitar!” Kaminari jumped in. Then he turned sheepish. “If you’ll let me get my dirty mitts on one of your babies.”

Kyoka gave him an indulgent smile, and Kaminari lit up.

“The only question is which one of us is lead or rhythm,” he continued.

Kyoka scoffed, “I'll let you play lead when you can sing better than a caterwaul.”

“Spoilsport,” Kaminari pouted, crossing his arms and sticking his tongue out at her.

“If I may,” Yaomomo interjected nervously, “I may be more in tune with classical styles, but I'm willing to step out of my comfort zone for this.”

“So we’re doing this?” Sero asked, looking between everyone excitedly.
Kyoka looked around at all of them. Faces filled with beaming excitement and faithful pride. They really believed in her, really wanted her to do this, really thought that her music could make a difference. Then she recalled how much stress she’d caused her classmates personally recently with the Soundtrack… and how much she was still keeping from them. Yeah, the other courses weren’t the only ones who needed stress relief.

“Okay, fine,” Kyoka agreed, and resigned. “Now we just have to figure out what song to play.”

“How about we play one of yours?” Ashido perked up. “You spend so long composing them, why not?”

“I, they’re not that good,” Kyoka protested, though from the looks of her classmates they didn’t believe her, “and most of them are incomplete anyway.”

“Well I think the parts I hear you humming in class sound super good!” Kaminari declared, and now Kyoka was embarrassed again.

“I don’t hum that much do I?” Kyoka asked disbelievingly.

“You do,” her classmates chorsued dryly in response. Meanwhile Katsuki had grabbed Kyoka’s notebook and was flipping through it without hesitation. While he skimmed each page briefly he seemed to know exactly what he was looking for even if he didn’t know where it was.

“This one, this is the song we’ll play,” Katsuki decided when he’d found the page he was looking for, folding the cover back and shoving the notebook into Kyoka’s hands.

Kyoka scrambled to get a steady hand around the notebook scanning the working title of the piece as she hastily tried to figure out what Katsuki was thinking. The page was labelled No. 486.2. It was one of her unfinished pieces that she’d been writing from the ground up. Since it didn’t have a theme or any lyrics yet she’d taken to numbering the piece until she could figure one out. It wasn’t the latest one she’d started working on, but it wasn’t that old either since she’d only started composing it a year or two before coming to U.A. it had gone through a complete revision partway through the first semester when she’d decided to change it from an instrumental to a song. So the electric guitar melody that was the backbone of the rest of the piece’s instrument parts had to be torn out then almost entirely rewritten. The vocal melody had then been incorporated into the piano piece, at least temporarily. As it stood the thing was a mess, the guitars - both bass and electric - were far from done, the piano and the dorms were done, the latter mostly with Katsuki’s help from a few days prior, but the drums ended way before the piano because of the melody issue, the lyrics were still missing and Kyoka had no idea how to make the finish sound right even if all the pieces lined up.

“It’s not finished,” Kyoka argued. Though suspiciously it was one of her only pieces that used the exact instrumental set up they had available to them. How Katsuki knew this version of the piece existed when she’d only played version one with him she didn’t know but that wasn’t the most pressing thing right now. “I still have to write the lyrics for this one and that guitar part is pretty complicated. Not that I'm doubting Kaminari's ability to learn but he’s still a beginner.”

“Then you better get to work,” Katsuki smirked. “And that second one is an easy fix, just-”

“Assign myself the heavier sections of the guitar part. Alright, fine. You make a good point," Kyoka sighed, “and if I back out now that’s not very rock and roll of me is it?”

“Alright!” her classmates cheered.

Chapter Text

The next day they regrouped at the dorms to plan out the minutiae of their program. The band couldn’t do much with Kyoka still working on the music, but she’d been working non-stop so a check-in, and some inspiration, was appreciated. Besides, Ashido needed to know who she’d be working with for the dance performance and the piano part was comprehensive enough right now for her to get a feel for the full song and start planning the basic choreography. They also had to discuss costumes, lighting, make-up, effects or the lack-thereof on all of the above. But for most of the meeting Kyoka was set to keep her head buried in her notebook while everyone else milled about chatting.

“Okay,” Sero was saying, “I know you said you could play the drums but how can we be sure?”

Bakugo glanced back at Kyoka, catching her eye with an unasked question. She nodded, standing up and walking away. She pulled the keys to her music room out of her pocket and twirled them around her finger.

“Well, what are you waiting for? You’re the ones who wanted to see what I had in there.”

Katsuki marched into Kyoka’s music room like he owned the place. He plonked himself down at the drumkit’s stool, picked up the drumsticks and waited a moment for some of the others to filter into the room while the rest lingered in the open doorway to watch. He took a measure to count himself in before hammering out a solo and ending with a symbol crash.

Everyone’s jaws dropped at how fast he moved and the syncopation he had to use all four limbs both out of and in sync with each other. He shot them a smug look.

“Satisfied?”

“Oh yeah,” Kaminari nodded eagerly. Then Hagakure put the attention back onto Kyoka.

“How’s finishing the song coming?” she asked.

“Complicated,” Kyoka replied, her face scrunching up in disgruntlement as she looked at the pages in her hands. “We’re looking for something that will be rave meets rock show. It’s got to have a strong enough beat to get down and dance to but a popular genre that everyone will enjoy, but trying to put all of that in this piece is-”

Disingenuous, Kyoka didn’t say. Wrong, she didn’t say. Like some part of her soul protested trying to change what she had, even if she needed to change things anyway to fix it. Before she could get too stuck in her head however Bakugo snatched her book out of her hand.

“Bakugo!” Iida yelled, looking to scold him. He ignored the class president and proceeded to fwap her on the face with her own notebook when she looked up to glare at him.

“I’m not asking you to satisfy everyone,” he said seriously, leaning down to look her in the eye as he let her snatch the notebook back. “I didn’t pick this song to make you write it for them.”

She glanced over at the others. Sure, she got that. It was impossible to satisfy every audience and she was fine with that. But the client (her classmates) had asked for a commission and she was trying to stick to the brief as much as she could.

“But we-”

“We’re doing this to help the other courses blow off steam, I know,” he finished dismissively. He turned to address the others with the rest of his statement. “But we're the ones that caused his stress and that makes it seem like we only want to make ourselves look better.”

“Don’t be rude! We’re just trying to help!” Hagakure protested petulantly.

“And that,” Katsuki continued, pointing at the invisible girl. “Makes it sound like you’re looking down on everyone. Don’t do this to get on other peoples’ good sides.”

He turned his attention back to Kyoka and gestured around them.

“Do it because this is what you love, because I refuse to perform a song that’s anything less than your best.”

Katsuki’s theme didn’t usually have a melody, it was an odd day when it even had a particularly involved bass, but it was built on percussion so that's generally expected. But untuned percussion weren’t the only instruments in that family though it would have been really odd for his theme to shift into a piano or xylophone a steel drum would have been on theme. What happened instead was of course even stranger, but Kyoka couldn’t help how it squeezed her heart. Reflecting the swell of emotion Katsuki was using and invoking his speech, the Soundtrack built on his theme, adding a swelling melody. But did so with the least obtrusive and most harmonious instrument, or rather instruments, for his now standard, softer djembe and hand drums. With boomwhackers.

“Kaminari is right. Music is your heart and soul, Euterpe. So don’t hold anything back and we’ll slay them with killer music. Because you’re a Muse, and everyone should be bowing to your song. Got it?”

“Right, thanks,” Kyoka nodded, giving Katsuki a soft, half-lidded smile. “I’ll do my best.”

The Soundtrack played a string of chimed chords, each one descending in pitch from the last until the final chord that was made of the same notes as the chord before it but in a different key signature making it sound a half tone higher.

A key change! A gleam of inspiration sparkled in Kyoka’s eye. The guitars had sounded off at the end because it was in the wrong key! Kyoka had forgotten to put in a key signature change in the guitar parts like she had for the piano leaving the melody in E major while the harmony was left in Eb major with the contrast making it sound like the eerie C minor. If she could figure out where the keychange was supposed to go for the guitars in relation to the piano that would give her a landmark to figure out where the tracks went out of sync. Even better, the keychange was at the song’s climax and the part of the chorus before it and the bridge part after it were on the light side instrumentally to let the softer vocals stand out more. Sure she’d have to shuffle and change the drum part up a little to make something fit, but that wouldn’t be so hard comparatively.

“Everyone out, now,” Kyoka demanded.

“What, uh, why?” Ojiro asked, already walking backwards and out the door, preemptively dragging Hagakure with him. Smart boy, complying first and asking questions second.

“I have an idea. Just give me half an hour to hammer it out.”

She’d need the space to play and record each instrumental part herself then put them into an audio-editing program, sync them up and play them back to hear when the key change happens on the piano in relation to where it should have happened in both guitars. “You can figure the other stuff out downstairs without me.”

She already had everything she needed, all she had to do was slot them into the right places.

“I’ll come and get the band guys and Ashido when I'm done,” she reassured them.

Because when she was done she’d have a rough demo and music sheets for every part ready. The rough would be an even better basis for Ashido to start planning choreography to and while she would have to clean up the sheet music for a cleaner print later Yaomomo and Katsuki could get started with the rough while she figured out the lyrics. It would be better for Tokoyami and Kaminari to wait for the clean print since she could plug her notes into a programme that would spit out a TAB that would be a lot easier for them to read and understand. Since they only needed to focus on learning this one song especially under a time limit, Kyoka was okay with them skipping learning the notes and getting by on muscle memory and brute force memorisation this one time; they could always go back to the basics later. Either way she had work to do and as she pushed her classmates out of the room and went to shut the door she heard a couple unexpected voices step in to support her.

“She’s right,” Ashido interjected. “We have a lot of other decisions we can make which won’t affect what Jiro’s working on, like costumes!”

“And in that video I showed you yesterday they also had special effects.”

But she didn’t pay it much mind. She had work to do.

After Ears had kicked them out the rest of the class obligingly headed back downstairs, IcyHot and Racoon Eyes were leading the way as the pink girl rambled excitedly about her ideas.

“We could use sparklers and streamers and even a disco ball to fire everyone up!”

“Yeah!” Hagakure bounced up and down around them. “Let’s pull out all the stops to make it look like an explosion of lights guys!”

She bounced in front of Katsuki, arms raised in the air as she put emphasis on the word explosion. He grinned menacingly at her and she giggled in return before bouncing away.

“We’re putting this party on in the gym right?” Sato asked.

“Yes,” Glasses confirmed, “Mr Aizawa has already made the arrangements for us.”

“Ooh, ooh!” Racoon Eyes exclaimed, jumping up and down with her hand raised in the air. “What if we have Kirishima cut away at Todoroki’s ice above the crowd to rain down a mist of shaved ice! Combine that with the intense lights around the gym and from the stage and the whole thing would look like glittering stardust!”

“It’s too bad Aoyama isn’t here for this, he’d enjoy that,” Shoji demurred. Koji and Katsuki shared a grimace as the mood among the rest of their classmates dampened.

“We could do something similar by taking advantage of the lights in the gym,” Yaoyorozu continued on boldly. “We could use rope, wire or even Sero’s tape to hang up mirrors and prisms around the gym to enhance the effect too.”

“And I can use my quirk to direct a bunch of light where we want it to go!” Hagakure added.

“That should be simple enough,” Katsuki shrugged, looking over at Ashido. “Just find the right place in the choreography to put Hagakure in front of some laser lights.”

“Or we put the laser lights in front of where Hagakure is going to be,” Pinky countered.

“We could disguise the mirrors and prisms as crystals or snowflakes so they can blend in with my ice too,” Todoroki pointed out, cutting into Katsuki and Ashido’s banter before it could devolve further. “Make it seem like it’s intentional and on theme.”

“If we’re making the effects IcyHot themed, why not use some smoke machines and indoor pyrotechnics too?” Katsuki argued, of course pyro shit was his expertise too but that's neither here nor there. He grabbed the laptop they’d left on the couch and plugged in the website of a pyrotechnic machine supplier for Ponytail and Glasses to peruse; they also did lights.

“How are we going to buy some of this stuff?” Sero asked, scanning the prices on the webpage as he leaned against the back of the couch. In hindsight, probably not the best idea to have the two richest people in their class also be in charge of their budget.

“I could pay for them?” Todoroki offered, and there’s the third.

“Absolutely not!” Robocop protested aghast. He was about to go on another lecture, because come on, this was Iida.

“Yo Ponytail,” Katsuki interrupted before Iida could really get going as Katuski pulled his phone out of his pocket to do some quick web browsing. Yaoyorozu glanced up from the laptop at his call. “Quick science time.”

“What did you have in mind Bakugo?” Whether or not she was surprised he was asking her, or anyone really, to check his science, she hid it well. But she was the reasonable one in the class, even if she wasn’t very cost conscious and Katsuki and feasibility studies didn’t go well together considering his dogged pursuit of… well… everything.

“With the quirks we’ve got? Rainbow fire if we load Todoroki up with salts or those commercial magic fire packs. We could rain it across the gym from the rafters so it doesn’t hit the crowd and if we ask the teachers to turn the fire system off beforehand it won’t set off the sprinklers, though that could also be part of the performance, a light summer rain. We could also set up some flare stuff behind me that I can activate with my quirk, give a curtain of fire effect, and could add colours to that too.”

“The first is too much of a hazard,” Yaoyorozu insisted after a moment of thought. “But we could do the second.”

Katsuki nodded. “I'm still gonna order some of those magic fire packs anyway.”

Ponytail stared at him incredulously.

“Personal use,” he argued defensively. “Besides, it’d be a fun experiment to run with Todoroki's quirk anyway.

“We could use DIY Tesla coils?”

“Too noisy.”

“Right, they sing.” Katsuki glanced at Kaminari, recalling Kyoka’s notes on his theme. Then he looked at Todoroki. “Can’t believe you’re making me miss Valley Girl.”

Todoroki shrugged at him helplessly but Katuski just turned to Yaoyorozu again. It was dumb how the rest of the class were just watching them go at it like a tennis match instead of doing their own brainstorming sessions in smaller groups but oh well. Katsuki looked up another article on his phone and turned the screen around for the vice rep to skim.

“Think we could create a psc if we pulverise Todoroki’s crystals right?”

“Potentially,” Yaoyorozu allowed, leaning back. “On top of the regular light effects from reflecting off of a transparent crystal. And if nothing else, if we set up an ice sculpture in the rafters and Todoroki melts it, we could combine that with the spotlights already present to create a rainbow that way.”

“And even if we can’t go for the big professional stuff there is a lot you could do with phosphor, blacklights, fluorescents and neons.”

Ashido perked up at that, at last recognizing some of the scientific terms they were throwing around.

“Ooh! Can the costumes glow in the dark, please, please, please?”

“There’s still a matter of where we will get these materials from,” Glasses interrupted.

“Actually, glow in the dark shit is pretty easy to DIY,” Katsuki corrected.

“Quite,” Yaoyorozu agreed. “A simple film covering the lights that the gym already has will do quite handily. As for the rest, the more complex pyrotechnic equipment is out of budget and beyond my capabilities. But neon lights, flares, compounds for changing fire colours, mirrors and prisms are well within my limits, and our budget.”

“That and the gym has a screen on the back wall that we can use for a display,” Katsuki added. Once they figured out what effects they were going to use and how they would pull them off the effects team would still have to consult Kyoka, and Ashido to a lesser extent, on when they would be implemented. Best to save the biggest effects for the climax after all and as the drummer, Katsuki really wanted to have the right to start and end the show with a literal bang.

“Anyone else lost?” Sato deadpanned. A murmur of agreement rippled across the rest of the class which is when the front door conveniently opened and the rest of the raid group walked in.

“Hey you guys,” Kirishima called to them tiredly.

“Sorry we’re showing up so late,” Midoriya apologised sheepishly.

“We finally made up for the classes we missed during our work studies,” Round Face grinned, relieved. “Now we can help out for real!”

“Hagakure and Ashido jumped to tell them what the plan was. Iida and Yaoyorozu put in their own comments whenever the overeager pair got out of hand or the others needed clarification.

“So we’ve decided to do o a music performance?” Asui mused.

“Jiro and Yaomomo make sense for sure,” Shitty Hair continued hesitantly. He rubbed at the back of his neck as he glanced over at Katsuki anxiously. “Kaminari and Tokoyami are a bit out there but I can see it. Bakugo on the drums though…”

“Is shocking?” Hagakure offered pleasantly. The undercurrent of disbelief and disregard made Katsuki itch.

“Back off,” he rumbled icily, shoulders hunching and tensing dramatically as he had to consciously keep himself from blowing up.

“Hey, yeah,” Sero perked up, turning to look at Katsuki. “Why are you so invested in this Bakugo?”

Katsuki froze. On the one hand he could be offended that Sero would think so lowly of him; if he hadn’t hit the nail on the head in that Katsuki didn’t normally like this sort of stuff. Sure he’d participate but it would always be a begrudging sort of thing. Sure he’d participate but it would always be a begrudging sort of thing, but here he was pushing the envelope. But that sort of deflection would probably be counterintuitive to his goals. On the other hand he had some semblance of a reputation to uphold and he’d rather avoid Beetle’s smug looks or Shitty Hair and Sparky’s overeager puppy dog routines.

“Euterpe,” Yaoyorozu commented, immediately receiving everyone’s attention, though hers was focused solely on Katsuki.

“Earlier you called Jiro Euterpe,” she clarified, her voice was soft and measured but her body language wavered between sorrow and resignation. “The Muse of music whose name means delight. Why?”

Katsui stared at her intensely as he tried to think of something to say. He hoped that alone would stop his cheeks from turning red, or baring that it would look like he was red with rage. Had he forgotten that he’d had an audience other than Koji and Kyoka upstairs? Maybe. But Muse could be as stubborn as he was and he needed to get it through her head straight, no interpretation. Was he counting on his class knowing jack all about Greek mythology anyway? Yes, especially since he’d called her Muse so long ago as a spur of the moment thing, knowing it’s linguistic implications and only later found out it’s mythological association. Was he more frustrated that he’d underestimated Yaoyorozu than being called out? Also yes.

“It’s not like calling her Muse is anything new,” Koji commented, voice carrying across the room that stood in expectant silence. Because apparently he felt that Katsuki was taking too long to make up his mind and that he needed the extra push.

“Koji!” he barked unhappily, feeling heat inevitably colour his cheeks, the red showing up much darker and more obviously than most others. Koji, the sly bastard, just turned and sent him a sharp grin.

“Look,” Katsuki seethed, resigned to having to show a little vulnerability as he hurried to do damage control. “I’m sure you’ve noticed it but Ears-”

“What happened to Muse?” Todoroki grinned unrepentantly and Katsuki glared at him but pushed himself to continue because if they started sniping at each other they’d probably never stop.

“-Ears is used to being ignored,” Katsuki stressed. “Especially because she can hear things no one else can. The whole ‘tell us where you need us’ thing during the provisional licence exam is new and she’s still working on it.

“Trusting people to take her seriously is hard and her ‘disability’ doesn’t help. Neither does the Soundtrack because we know so little about it people don’t trust it to give her reliable information despite how it’s already been saving our hides. Especially when people don’t know that the Soundtrack even exists.”

“Yeah, we saw that with-with Nighteye at the Shie Hassaikai raid,” Midoriya agreed, the mood sombered at the reminder of the recent loss.

“She came prepared with an entire psychological profile on Overhaul, ribbit,” Asui elaborated. “It was like she already knew someone was going to question her.”

“That still doesn’t-”

“Because if she performs her music then everyone will be forced to listen,” Katsuki explained, bulldozing over Iida’s hesitant questioning. That word, ‘performing’, seemed to catch most of the class’ attention more than anything. Sure the plan was to do this for the other courses, but Katsuki would hesitate claiming to be so altruistic; despite wanting to be a hero. He knows Kyoka saw this as doing a favour for her class, as an apology or a thanks of some sort. But Katsuki was doing this for her. In part to thank her in the only form she’d really listen to it. Maybe that was selfish, but you could do selfless things with selfish intentions; that’s why heroics as a profession existed really. But it gave him more motivation to let himself be vulnerable. “Sure they’ll see how amazing she is, but then maybe she’ll get it through her head that she actually deserves to be heard, not just needs to be heard.”

“A song that is all her, heart and soul,” Kaminari repeated. “You said that because she doesn’t have a theme in the Soundtrack, didn’t you?”

“Smarter than you pretend to be,” Katsuki huffed, nodding at Sparky, “she’s a musician. If whatever the Soundtrack is won’t give her a theme, then she can make herself one.”

Katsuki held the thought that Kyoka did have a theme close to the chest. As much as he was doing this for her to see it, hear it, for herself he couldn’t help but also want to make it a surprise. It wasn’t that the Soundtrack never gave her a theme, it was that the Soundtrack’s theme for her was her own music, a song that she had yet to make. Maybe that was an optimistic take on it, after all, like he’d said, they had no clue what the Soundtrack even was. But if there was anyone out there that got to define themselves with music on their own terms then it should be musicians, and maybe the Soundtrack doesn’t want to cheapen her most personal composition for her.

“She sees music as a gift,” Shoji added and Katsuki turned to him curiously because that was something that he hadn’t known, “something that should be shared. And you’re giving it back to her.”

The odd way Shoji had phrased that Katsuki knew there was a double meaning there that he couldn’t quite parse. He knew Shoji and Kyoka talked to each other privately and also knew that, if anyone was going to understand her experiences it would be him. But it was frustrating to be out of the loop, even with the context that Shoji knew that the Soundtrack wasn’t new. What Katsuki didn’t consider, as the class murmured amongst themselves at Shoji’s declaration, was that he was the only missing something because he knew too much. Where Katsuki saw himself gifting her a part of her that had always been there, she just couldn’t see it, the class saw him giving her the gift that was music back; something he knew she’d never lost.

“But she’s so used to being invisible and quiet that she can’t see what’s staring her in the face. So if I have to be soft and vulnerable to inspire the person who inspired me. Then fucking fine!” his head snapped back up and he stared at all of them. His usual fierce and defensive aggression overtook the soft, intense determination he’d been speaking in. “and so help me if one of you fuck this up for her I'll kill you.”

The room was quiet for less than ten seconds.

“Who knew that Bakugo was such a softy on the inside,” Ashido teased. Koji raised his hand, a sharp glint in his eye.

“Shut the fuck up!” Katsuki snapped.

“Okay! Let’s get back on track,” Iida declared, "Jiro is counting on us to organise our effects and dance teams while she finishes with the music for the band team.”

“Considering how much our current effects plans rely on Todoroki-” Yaomomo began leadingly.

“I’m in,” Todoroki shrugged agreeably.

“I’ll join in!” Kirishima grinned, raising a fist and hardening it flauntingly. “My quirk’ll let me shave the ice into a fine mist!”

“I’ll go for effects too,” Koji offered softly before switching to sign. “Me on a stage, no bueno.”

Katsuki would like to say that his translation was hyperbolic but the worst he could say was that it was stylistically approximate. Koji had ended his statement by chopping horizontally in front of his chest. It was one of the few Spanish signs the pair had picked up so far, mostly in their pursuit of something else to play with. Mixing languages of sign to create something more encoded for mission purposes… and for fun.

“My quirk also gives us more hands to help coordinate the lighting rigs.”

“Yeah, I'm not a big dancer,” Sero admitted, “and if we’re hanging things from the ceiling my quirk will help with placing and manoeuvring everything. That and putting together a digital display feed shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll just binge a bunch of tutorials.”

“I’m down to help set up the electrical stuff before the show,” Kaminari offered, being the most experienced with electrical equipment, and inherently resistant. “I’m sure Yaomomo and Bakugo will look over all of the effects stuff too. You know, for safety.

“And we all know Jiro's not going to let anyone set up her amps without direct supervision.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Shitty Hair declared confidently which did not inspire confidence in him or Ponytail and guaranteeing they’d be double checking their work.

“Which leaves everyone else on the dance team!”

Chapter Text

With Katsuki and Todoroki having remedial classes most of the band’s practice had been one on one sessions with Kyoka where she’d coach them on the style or basics of the song they’d be performing. She taught Kaminari and Tokoyami how to read TAB notation, showed Yaomomo how to make her elegant playing sound upbeat and pop-y and divided the guitar part between herself and Kaminari based on how good she projected his skills would be by the end of the month that they had to practice. She just hoped it took a while for Kaminari to notice that she’d assigned him more complex and longer sections the further into the piece they got. Katsuki she trusted didn’t need that from her, considering she’d based most of the drum section on a pattern he’d given her in the first place. Even the breakdowns, barring the opening and ending ones, were also, technically, at his discretion. But since it was the weekend they’d finally have the chance to work all together.

Admittedly that had fallen apart pretty quickly since they were all at different places and had gotten to different sections of the piece in the time they’d had so far. So they’d split up into smaller groups. Yaomomo was leading Tokoyami on the opposite side of the room, this let her focus on her left handed playing and on helping Tokoyami figure out the signposts for when he was supposed to change notes. That left Kaminari, Katsuki and Kyoka on the other side of the room, mostly because the earlier section of the piece had the two guitarists switching bars on and off and someone needed to keep them in time. Granted the lyrics were still unfinished but Kyoka would focus on teaching for now. Since she was the only one who had to worry about what that would change, keeping in tune wouldn’t be too hard either. Besides, they could perform down a vocalist, but not down an instrument. Though Kyoka had a feeling, Katsuki would be unsatisfied if she didn’t.

“You’re rushing, bastard,” Katsuki growled, calling them to a stop as he glared at Kaminari. “Follow my tempo!”

Kaminari flushed, “but you keep throwing in new breakdowns! It’s so confusing.”

“Then stop listening ot the drums and focus on the fucking hi-hats,” Katsuki ordered.

“Huh?”

“The lower pair of cymbals on Katsuki's back left,” Kyoka told him, and said drummer tapped the corresponding cymbal demonstratively when Kyoka gave him the signal.

“He only stops playing them when he plays a breakdown, but the tempo you want to keep in mind would be exactly the same.”

Right now they were also practicing facing each other. So Kyoka could keep an eye on Kaminari's finger positioning since she needed to wear headphones to play. They’d do it with the stage blocking eventually. But it would be easier for Kaminari to make the association with a visual reference first.

“But I can't tell where we are when he keeps changing them up,” Kaminari complained.

“You don’t have to,” Kyoka told him. “Look, Katsuki never puts a breakdown anywhere there isn’t supposed to be one already. And you can bet that if his improvising was throwing things off, like timing, I'd be on his case. But his breakdowns only last the one or two bars I gave them. So as long as you hold steady you’ll come out the other side perfectly in time. You’ve done it with me.”

“Right,” Kaminari nodded uncertainly.

“Gotta admit it’s pretty impressive that the thing you’re struggling with is the counterintuitive part of playing together,” Katsuki commented. Kaminari perked up and Kyoka ducked her head to hide a grin at what Katsuki was doing. “Most people start off as soloists and then have issues following someone else’s lead.”

Which was exactly the sort of dysfunctional dynamic that Kyoka recalled from the Bakugo family’s composition.

“But seriously Kats, could you try not to improv during the actual performance. Livewire over there’s not the only one we need to worry about keeping up." Katsuki huffed and puffed out his cheeks aggressively but she knew he’d tone it down a little going forwards.

“Yaomomo, Tokoyami,” Kyoka called, “how about we try to take it from the top? Figure out which sections we need to focus on and rotate around.”

But before they got the chance to play anything, Kyoka heard three familiar themes approaching. Rising vocals and horns over orchestral bass drums and toms for Midoriya. A rock ballad for Togata and the final one, the one which surprised Kyoka the most. It was played on a glockenspiel, not ‘metal xylophones’ like she’d originally thought, on softer mallets now instead of harder ones like they had before. It was a tune absent of distortions and haunting piano, though still slow and languishing. All of which signified that Eri was with them. Kyoka stalled, watching the door in anticipation and missing Katsuki's count in. which was fine because Kaminari started the piece, not her and she knew the trio would be arriving before she'd have to refocus.

“Hey guys, hope we aren’t interrupting anything,” Midoriya called, which is when everything came crashing to a halt. Midoriya winced especially under Katsuki's lazer sharp glare. “Sorry. Mirio and Eri just wanted to stop by real quick before we go take a tour around the school.”

“Whatever nerd,” Katsuki huffed, lurching off of his stool and around the drumkit while Kyoka and the other boys set their guitars aside on nearby stands. “Ponytail, let’s get some drinks.”

“Right!” Yaomomo bounded after him towards the kitchen. “I’ll make everyone some tea.”

“Yeah, let’s take five we can regroup after,” Kyoka agreed, calling after them. Then she turned her attention back to their three guests. Eri’s hair had been cleaned and brushed and she was dressed in a cute button up dress shirt and red overall dress. She looked a lot better than when they’d last met, which wasn’t really a high bar, but she was less haunted, less tired, though her doe eyes were just as wary. Kyoka walked over to meet them halfway and knelt down to Eri's height. “Hey Eri, nice to see you again.”

“You’re… singer girl,” Eri said in wonder.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Kyoka chuckled. “You can call me Jiro.”

“Jiro. Okay,” Eri nodded.

“Singer girl, huh?” Kaminari asked teasingly as he came up behind her. Eri looked up at him and blankly responded to his rhetorical question.

“Jiro sang me a song when I was really scared and it made me feel not as scared anymore,” she tucked her chin to her chest and scuffed her shoe against the ground. “I liked it.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Midoriya smiled awkwardly. The edges of his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Thanks?” Kyoka asked deadpan. Midoriya panicked at the perceived offense but Mirio stepped in smoothly to explain.

“Mr Aizawa got permission from principal Nedzu to bring Eri to the school festival.” he tilted his head to address Eri cheerfully. “You know, Jiro's going to be singing for her class performance so you’ll get to hear her again then.”

“Really?” Eri breathed, awed. She turned back to look at Kyoka, a hopeful sparkle in her eye, though she still didn’t smile.

“Yeah, promise,” Kyoka nodded. “And this time I'll get to give it my all. Y’know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I'll be playing with good people,” Kyoka told her, tapping her lightly on the nose.

In a grassy area near the main school building, Hitoshi’s class was busy putting together their exhibit for the school festival, a haunted house they were calling the labyrinth of doom. While his classmates laughed and discussed ideas, Hitoshi only wanted to get away to give himself the time and space to think. Taking advantage of some complaining he had overheard nearby he picked up a pile of unused lumber.

“I can grab that paint after I take this to the trash,” he offered. A number of them thanked him and he walked away in silence

Ever since he’d put in his transfer request, Hitoshi had started feeling pangs of guilt while hanging out with these familiar faces. When should he tell them? Would it be too late if he waited until his transfer was approved?

His outstanding performance in the sports festival had put the transfer plan into motion, but still, nothing was guaranteed and he already knew there was an enormous gap between himself and the hero students given how thoroughly Jack, King and Ace were trouncing him in their training sessions and how hard they worked him. For as much hardship and painful self reflection their understated friendship had brought him in the last few months he couldn’t be more grateful for their support. And they weren’t the only ones helping him out either since Mr Aizawa, the Eraserhead, had seen something of himself in the eternally tired student. Seen enough potential to help him train at the very least. Something that Kyoka had been quick to inform him was hard earned and definitely not out of pity the moment she heard his theme heading in that self-deprecating direction. Even still, though Hitoshi was consciously aware of the rare opportunity before him and would put up a desperate fight if that’s what it took he still couldn’t help but be plagued by doubts and unease.

Was there really a spot waiting for him in the hero course? Logically, of course there was. Even if he wasn’t aware of the situation with Aoyama and the empty seat he had left his friends had more than assured him that they’d go to hell and back again to boot Mineta out if it meant he got to join them. Which made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside in a way he had never known before, though that was tempered by the cold realisation that Koji was much more creatively violent in his threats than Katsuki could ever hope to be. But that still left him wondering Where would this next great leap land him? His doubts made him feel like a drifting cloud and nothing scared Hitoshi more than being blown about into nothingness. It was this lack of confidence that had kept him from telling his current classmates about the transfer.

All the while he tried to justify it by telling himself that they wouldn’t miss him. He was a pretty antisocial and reclusive guy after all. His mind flashed to lunchtime picnics and brutally hard training session, a exasperated teacher that would put on a faux air of resigned or begrudged acceptance as he let his snarky students take over his intricately thought out training sessions for whatever shenanigans they’d come up with. Usually. He was a reclusive, anti-social guy usually. But the friends he’d accidentally made in 1A wouldn’t leave him be, and he’d never thought he’d have friends like them. For one he wasn’t here to make friends, but even more so He’d never thought he’d befriend someone so antithetical to his struggle. Until Jack pointed out just how similar he and King could be. Or that compassion and empathy were the heart of true heroism, though he knew she’d deny that until she was blue in the face; actually it would be red more likely considering how hard she’d end up blushing, Kyoka couldn’t really take a complement but trauma be like that. His current class didn't know him that well, they couldn’t miss him if he never really made an impression on them.

As he walked across the campus, Hitoshi picked up conversations here and there, knowing that the energized atmosphere was only going to intensify as the festival approached. For any given high school in Japan, the ubiquitous school festival was a chance for students to enjoy themselves and learn a thing or two outside of the classroom. With that in mind Shinso reflected on how this one might be his first and last festival as a member of class 1C. feeling dark thoughts encroaching again, he put on his best poker face and tried to focus on the simple act of walking. Rather than embrace the angst, why not concentrate on what he could and should do. The trash collection spot was behind the main building but as Shinso rounded the corner, he found himself staring at an enormous dragon on the nearby patch of grass. One big enough to ride.

Right… class 1B was doing a play. They were hard at work painting the dragon’s head and building set pieces resembling a castle, rocky crags and so on.

“Come on Monoma,” Awase was complaining as the blonde overlooked their work critically. “This is good enough, it’s as realistic as it's going to get.”

“Yes, we’ve covered the realism angle,” Monoma agreed suspiciously painlessly. Then his smile turned predator, though his teeth were nowhere near as sharp as Katsuki's, leaving the effect rather fearless and pathetic. Even the ‘spark of mania’ in his eye was a pale approximation of true terrorism. “Now we’re going for sheer intensity.”

Awase’s eyes twitched and it very much looked like he was seconds away from strangling the blonde.

“Aw, let him have his way!” Tetsutetsu argued, “attention to detail isn’t a bad thing.”

“I knew you were a man of taste Tetsutetsu,” Monoma crowed, jumping on the first sign of support he’d been given. Ah, insecurity, my old friend. One of his other classmates, a girl with forest green hair.

“Ooh, that looks great,” she grinned and Monoma puffed up with pride at the compliment.

“I daresay our dragon is ready to devour class A whole! They can have their silly band and dance club, since everyone knows that the theatrical production is the tried and truest road to success at a school festival! Yet, it will be class b that claims the limelight this time,” he cackled. Hitoshi continued past class B, wondering if modern medicine had come up with a name for whatever disturbing conditions were clearly afflicting Monoma.

If my transfer gets approved I could end up as his classmate. Sure it would be easier to place Hitoshi in 1A’s empty spot, and he figured that he was more likely to be placed in class a given Mr Aizawa’s involvement in his independent training, but class B was still a possibility if they moved a class be student up. It would probably be better for the staff to avoid the hassle, especially since Hitoshi knew they wouldn’t appreciate the dark fantasies he was already having of what he’d do to Monoma if Hitoshi had to hear him disparage his class A friends in ear shot. Jack already threatened to stab his eye’s out often enough, and she was cavalier enough to follow through, Hitoshi gave even less of a shit so long as it didn’t get him kicked out. But Hitoshi figured he was getting ahead of himself.

Hitoshi finally dropped off the lumber at the trash and headed towards the classrooms for the paint. The school building was usually closed on Sundays, but the doors were left unlocked for the duration of this festival prep period. Hitoshi could hear voices coming from one of the classrooms he was passing and upon peering through the door’s window, he spotted some familiar instruments along with Katsuki, Kaminari, Tokoyami, Kyoka and Yaoyorozu. They must’ve been on break since Yaoyorozu was distributing tea from a red thermos.

“Phew, that hits the spot,” Kaminari complimented, savouring the tea’s warmth cupped between his hands more than the actual drink itself. Katsuki meanwhile drained his cup dry without a hint of sentimental reflection.

“Tea’s tea,” he shrugged, “though this one is a little sweeter than yesterday’s.”

“I should have known you’d have a distinguishing palate Bakugo,” Yaoyorozu beamed, it seemed she was more pleased at having the opportunity to talk about tea than that Katsuki was able to identify the subtle differences in taste. “Today’s is a second flush darjeeling, while yesterday I brought a first flush.”

“First, second, what’s the difference,” Kyoka asked indulgently, glancing over at where Hitoshi was lingering and giving him a little salute.

“First flush refers to leaves that were picked during spring while second flush means that the harvesters waited until summer,” Yaoyorozu explained. She passed Kyoka a cup of tea poured from a purple thermos who raised a questioning eyebrow at the deliberate distinction.

“Yours is a milk tea, it should help protect your throat and singing voice,” Yaoyorozu clarified with a smile. “You mentioned some discomfort yesterday, yes?”

“Oh,” Kyoka brightened appreciatively and Hitoshi suppressed an amused chuckle. “Thanks, yeah this is great.”

Meanwhile Tokoyami was inspecting some power cables in the corner of the room but before he could finish Dark Shadow emerged from his body.

“Fumi, gimme something to do,” the bird boy’s quirk whined, pulling at their host’s arms like an overexcited toddler.

“As I explained yesterday,” Tokoyami began slowly. His tone was deliberate and firm like a parent trying to gently scold a child. “The stage will be lit up from all angles, just the sort of environment that you would not tolerate.”

“But I'm the only one left out,” Dark Shadow complained, “I wanna do something! Everyone else gets to join in the school festival!”

“Do we even have the space for another instrument in our composition,” Katsuki deadpanned, looking over at Kyoka for input. Hitoshi knew, intimately, from the look she sent back at him that Katsuki would not like what was coming for him next.

“How about a tambourine? It’s simple enough and adds flavour to our arrangement,” she offered pleasantly.

Katsuki’s contemplative grimace morphed into one of blatant horror as the idea that someone would share his section. Dark Shadow darted away from Tokoyami and looped over to Kyoka and Yaoyorozu.

“Tambourine, lemme!” they demanded making grabby hands. It would have been a lot cuter if Dark Shadow’s hands weren’t larger than their heads at the moment. Either way Kyoka and Yaoyorozu seemed nonplussed.

“In that case, just a moment.” Yaomomo lifted her shirt above her stomach and pulled a tambourine from it in a glitter of red and white sparkles. Dark Shadow snatched the instrument greedily and began bobbing and jangling away.

Katsuki gave both girls the evil eye before begrudgingly turning to Dark Shadow.

“Hey,” Katsuki called, “you follow my lead and don’t throw off the damn beat.”

“Aye aye,” Dark Shadow saluted.

As Hitoshi finally walked toward his own classroom the joyous jangling and Bakugo’s roars faded in the distance Hitoshi grinned when he noticed that the explosive boy’s shouting was constructive instructions rather than annoyed screeching; Katsuki had certainly come a long way since the sports festival. And maybe that was just Hitoshi's bias because of the time they’d spent together, but Hitoshi had been given the privilege to know the worst side of Katsuki, even if it wasn’t first hand, and he couldn’t see this version of King ever saying those things. Hitoshi picked up the paint he’d come for and walked back down the corridor. The band had resumed practice by the time he passed the other classroom again and he heard them taking the piece from the top over and over. The sounds faded again, and Hitoshi got to thinking again.

Before he’d applied to U.A he never could’ve imagined putting so much time and effort into anything besides studying on any given sunday. Surely the training demanded of the hero course would occupy every free minute. He hadn’t been too far off the mark; U.A’s classes were as intense as could be and the hero course asked a lot of its students, but the school was also sure to offer a host of laid-back events for the the student body’s enjoyment, in the name of fostering that standard high school experience for all. Hitoshi had put U.A up on a pedestal and overlooked this obvious fact-a fact he was being keenly reminded of throughout the day.

As Hitoshi took the long way back to his classmates and their patch of grass he heard Mr Aizawa call out to him.

“Making progress?”

“Oh. Mr Aizawa,” Hitoshi startled, whipping around to face him. Even with the awareness training the underground hero was still able to sneak up on him. It would have rankled, if he didn’t know that the only student he couldn’t sneak up on was Jack in all her musically procognitive glory.

“We’re about halfway done, yeah,” he said, realizing that the can of paint must’ve reminded Mr Aizawa of class C’s haunted house.

“Good to hear” he nodded, padding over to Hitoshi and gesturing for him to keep walking. “Keeping up with your training too I hope?”

Organization for the festival and the frequent trips to the hospital Mr Aizawa had been making to check in on Eri had kept him busy. It should have meant that Hitoshi had to train on his own whenever he found the chance after classes and festival prep. But his friends had decided to be interlopers and not let that happen. Not that he could complain, he needed the sparing partners, and it’s not like he had the guts to torture himself; he couldn’t complain, truthfully, because they wouldn’t take no for an answer, and they had Mr Aizawa’s permission. sometimes he could fool himself into thinking that they wanted this for him more than he did, then he’d remember Katsuki’s competitive streak and odd sense of honour. It wouldn’t always be all three of them coming down to train with him, they had their own preparations to do that were a bit more intensive than constructing and decorating a haunted house, that and hero course classes ran longer anyway, but at least one of them would make it down to the gym for training everyday and were trying to organise a session with all four of them together at least once a week. Well, they were trying. Jack, king and ace never told him who would be there in advance, though Hitoshi realised pretty quickly that they had some sort of rota and he was making it his personal mission to find out what the pattern was.

“Yes. I know that every second counts at this point.”

The curt response was imbued with Hitoshi’s unshakable determination. Sensing this change, Mr Aizawa opened his eyes a little wider than usual.

“I see,” he said and Hitoshi got the sense that Mr Aizawa was smiling, before the teacher turned and walked away.

Hitoshi paused, bewildered, before remembering the paint and hurrying off toward his classmates. This was it, he’d finally decided to tell them about his transfer application. It wasn’t that he’d suddenly grown confident or rid himself of doubts, but announcing his goals to the world was a good way to make sure he couldn’t run away from his decisions later. As Hitoshi approached his class, however, he noticed that they were on break, chatting excitedly about something or other.

“We oughta do it right after the festival.”

“Yeah! Shinso’ll be none the wiser if we pretend we’re just prepping for the wrap party.”

Hitoshi sincerely hoped they weren’t planning a surprise party for him, though he doubted it considering his birthday had been back in july. Which left him confused about what they wanted to celebrate that they didn’t want him to know about. They hadn’t noticed him coming back, so Hitoshi instinctively snuck behind one wall of the haunted house absently noting how he’d been eavesdropping a lot today.

“But man, when do you think he’s gonna tell us about his damn transfer request?”

“It’s not like we haven’t known for a while now.”

“I guess Shinso’s just more thoughtful than he lets on.”

So they already knew. Hitoshi found himself blushing and feeling like an idiot for not realizing. He also felt guilty that they’d think him so selfless as to stay quiet to spare their feelings instead of the truth. That he stayed quiet in fear of his failure.

“That’s why we’re gonna throw him this awesome party! To really light a fire under him.”

“He’s the rising star of general studies after all.”

The eavesdropping Hitoshi gulped and felt his body clenching up again. But Mr Aizawa didn’t think he’d fail, his friends didn’t think he’d fail and the class he was set on leaving behind didn’t think he’d fail either. Which made him finally realise that maybe he should stop listening to those voices in his head that only come from the worst people he’d ever had the displeasure of experiencing and start listening to the people who mattered instead.

With this newfound conviction he rehearsed his upcoming declaration in his mind. Hitoshi was going to get into the hero course no matter what, fuck society and what they thought. And if they tried to stop him, then for once in his life Hitoshi knew that he wouldn’t have to fight that uphill battle alone.

These classmates of his had also shot for the stars and missed, but here they were, willing to put aside ego and lift him up to those heights. Hitoshi felt the weight of that implied responsibility, knowing full well how much it would motivate him. He glanced up at the sky again. Nothing but blue in every direction, but Hitoshi didn’t waste a second wondering where those errant clouds had gone.

“I'm back guys,” he said as he turned around the corner.

Hitoshi might be saying goodbye to them sooner rather than later, but the support and comradery he’d found wouldn’t be easily left behind.

Chapter Text

During a break between classes Kyoka sidled up to Midoriya’s desk. He was scratching away at his notebook, which was convenient for her considering that was what Kyoka wanted to talk to him about. She lingered nearby, just in and out of his perception so she didn’t startle him. Even still he jumped like a deer in headlights the moment he realised she was there.

“Midoriya, I know you’re always scribbling a ton of stuff in your notebooks,” she said, respectfully ignoring his mental duress. “So what does it look like in there?”

Midoriya’s expression stuttered from surprised to terrifyingly manic and his tone bordered between obsessive and desperate. “Why? Is there a hero you want to know more about Jiro?”

“No,” Kyoka said slowly, sliding away from him slightly. “I just wanted to see how you organise your notes. I’m trying to figure out how to highlight the important stuff.”

She passed him the notebook she had written for Tokoyami. Midoriya skimmed through the notebook at a frighteningly efficient rate.

“I wrote way too much stuff. Got any ideas?”

“Advice for the band members?” Midoriya deduced. “Wow, you came up with these lessons?”

“Yeah,” Kyoka shrugged, tucking her hands behind her back and rocking back on her heels awkwardly. The lack of pockets for the girls’ uniform was unfair and left her floundering with where to put her hands. “With Katsuki breathing down my neck I may have gone a little overboard.”

“You sure you’re not just trying to avoid writing the lyrics?” Sero asked teasingly on his way out of the classroom.

“Shut up!” Kyoka snapped after him, flushing.

“Why are the lyrics giving you so much trouble?” Midoriya asked. Kyoka bit her lip. That was hard to explain. There were so many things a song could be about and without direction Kyoka was kind of overwhelmed with ideas and choices. But she also wasn’t the most poetic person so writing lyrics that flawed with the meter and gave her a range of options when it came to prosody wasn’t her strong suit either. It didn’t help that the times when she had put pen to page it just felt… wrong.

“I don’t know,” Kyoka sighed, she ruffled the hair at the back of her head. “I guess. I guess I just don't have anything to say.”

“Now that is the most stall ass, cracked piece of molten steel covered bullshit I've ever heard,” Koji snapped, stomping over to them. It seems like she’d taken too long and he’d doubled back to check on whatever it was that was holding her up. “You have never not been inspirational. If there was anyone in class I'd trust to make an improvised speech in public it would be you, and that’s not just because you’re the only ‘performer’ in class.

“You fall back on your emotions like it’s second nature and even when you aren’t even trying your words beat with the power of your heart. I have never once doubted your sincerity, unless you made the conscious choice to use sarcasm to make me. And you use sarcasm like you breathe. If you’re struggling to come up with something, stop thinking and feel it out. Weren’t you the one who said that there is nothing as good as music at making people feel.”

“Eri’s coming to the festival,” Midoriya reminded her once he’d gotten over the shock at how much Koji had just said at once.

“I’m aware,” Kyoka deadpanned. Midoriya raised his hands in surrender.

“I-I just mean,” he stuttered, “That if you’re struggling to think of a topic why not write a song for her? Something that would make her smile.”

Now that wasn’t a bad shout. A song that would make people happy wasn’t much direction. But something that would bring that girl joy while still speaking to Kyoka's heart.

Even from their two brief interactions Kyoka could tell they were a lot alike. They were bystanders for so long that they struggled to stand up for themselves or what they believed in, but still had the courage to try anyway. Kyoka’s future used to be uncertain. She was undecided on whether to use the curse-blessing of the Soundtrack, she was uncertain if she could withstand the siren call of someone in trouble, she didn’t know if she had the strength to not go mad if she ignored the Soundtrack, or if she didn’t. Eri’s future used to be set in stone, but now it wasn’t. It was full of infinite possibilities she could never imagine and Kyoka knew that could be overwhelming, because what road she wanted to follow with the themes of a goddamn song already were. And in her worst moments Kyoka would doubt whether she could ever do anything, be anything, good.

She was still thinking about it when she and Koji had gotten downstairs to meet up with the others. Midoriya had given her tips on indexing and using highlighters to better organise her notes for the others but she’d get to that later. Now her all consuming thoughts revolved around lyrics, and while she had a Muse, Kyoka still found herself lost, which didn’t bode well when she was supposed to be focusing on what Hitoshi was doing. Of course they noticed that pretty quickly.

“Guess it’s my turn, huh?” Katsuki grumbled, collapsing down beside her.

“Your turn to do what?” Kyoka asked dryly.

“To give you some advice… though I guess I'm cheating considering I'm throwing your arm words back at you,” Katsuki shrugged with a smirk. “Do for them what you wish someone had done for you.”

Kyoka huffed, then looked over at Hitoshi. “Anything you want to add, Queen?”

“Fuck no, you’re the expert. I’d be no help,” Hitoshi retorted as he wiped his face dry. “Just, you know it’s going to be great no matter what, right?”

“Uh huh and how can you be so sure?”

“Because whatever it is it’ll be yours.”

“You’re right, you are no help.” Kyoka picked herself up off of the ground, head cocked in thought. She looked at each of them, considered her bandmates and the path they’d all chosen. It wasn’t the only one, but it had been for them, and in asking herself why Kyoka found that she did have a lot to say. Which didn’t help much with the technical aspect of lyrics writing, but she knew two lit. nerds who could help her out with that. “I’m gonna go talk to Tokoyami and Kaminari.”

The class had managed a late night booking to use the gym for a rehearsal. The band didn’t need to be there, nor the production team but Ashido had insisted, calling it a blocking rehearsal. The dress lead was using it to run through the choreography in the performance space. It was one part mindfulness training as she had the band stand in the area their instruments would be set up and they’d used Sero‘s tape to outline where the amplifiers, microphones, keyboards and drum kit were going. She’d even given the guitarists more leeway for movement than they probably needed. Ashido kept her dancers under a careful eye and gave them a fierce reprimand whenever they crossed the generous (for the musicians) boundaries. The other part was timing practice seeing as Midoriya had been drafted by the production team to help with the show stopper and he didn’t have much leeway to get from downstage to the rafters.

“We’ll have to clear out of the gym soon but we have enough time for one more run through,” Kirishima called from the well. Ashido tossed a thumbs up haphazardly over her shoulder before clapping her hands for their attention.

“Look alive! And one and two and three. And one and two and three and pose!”
It never failed to amuse Kyoka that Iida was so stiff, so incapable of going with the flow that Ashido had given up on trying. Instead she’d figured out how to make it look intentional.

“Midoriya you’re still lacking passion so bring the fire!” She instructed, singling him out. “Especially when Bakugo will be lighting one up behind you.”

“Roger!” Midoriya yelped as Katsuki barked a laugh. The girl was a real merciless taskmaster, but she was great at it.

“Mineta! I know you’ve got the central spotlight for this part but be conscious of where you’re standing," Ashido yelled. Something told Kyoka that she was taking this extra seriously, as if to make up for something or other. That was her own intuition of course, not just Kirishima almost outright admitting to it to Sero below them. Nor was it the Soundtrack, that had been laying relatively low recently as if to give her space and time to work on her music without the headache. Since the festival’s announcement it had only demanded her attention once or twice and only to nudge some inspiration her way. “We don’t want to block the audience’s view of Kyoka!”

“Midoriya pick up the pace! You need to be up on that catwalk as soon as possible.” Ashido turned side on so that she could see the production team and the people on stage at the same time. She pointed at Kyoka with one hand and Todoroki with the other. “When Jiro goes in for the second chorus that’s Todoroki’s signal to create his ice dome.”

Then she gestured to Tsu and Uraraka before turning up to the rafters where Midoriya was perched.

“Tsu will use her tongue to grapple around and drag Uraraka over the audience to make them float, the rest of the dance team will engage the audience in their own ways too, and as soon as we get into the final chorus Midoriya will take the leap and smash the thing into pieces.”

As soon as she’d finished her instructions the side doors to the gym burst open and Hound Dog barged in.

“It’s already nine o’clock,” he howled. “Students should have cleared out of the gym by now!”

“Aw shit.”

The class filed out of the gym and started heading back to the dorms. They’d have more opportunities over the course of the next couple of weeks to get a few more stage rehearsals in before their final dress rehearsal the day before the show, in between 1B's bookings for their play rehearsal anyway. From what Kyoka had heard, especially with how Yaomomo had been complaining about booking the space, the play they were writing looked like it was going to be at least three horse long.

“Hey Jiro!” Ashido bounded up to Kyoka and the band as they were going over the performance notes they’d be working on during practice the next day. Kyoka slowed down so that Ashido could more easily keep pace with them. “About the band’s blocking for the performance. I know we put all of you behind the dance line and left space at the downstage centre so the audience could get a clear view of you, but what if we move you into that space in the last half when the dancers are in the wings more than on stage. You know to give you more focus. We could hook you up with a wireless microphone, you could take it off the stand and walk downstage.”

Kyoka shook her head. “I switch on and off with Kaminari too much for that to be practical, once I get up there I'd have nowhere to put the mic when I need to play.”

“What if we get you a headmic?” Yaomomo offered.

“Great for choreo, poor audio quality,” Kyoka dismissed with a disgruntled look on her face.

“Besides, idols don’t exactly fit Jiro’s whole style,” Kaminari grinned.

“Jee, thanks,” Kyoka snarked, rolling her eyes bemusedly.

“But you’ll be wearing a headset anyway,” Ashido pointed out, gesturing to the headphones she currently had hanging around her neck.

“Not for the show actually,” Kyoka corrected idly.

“Really?” Kyoka raised an eyebrow at her.

“Okay, fair enough,” Ashido shrugged, taking the cue not to press the issue. “But I still think you should get more flair.”

“Actually, I did have one idea,” Kyoka offered, slowing to a stop outside of their dorm. The band lingered with her while the rest of the class went back inside. “We put our drummer in the back and the vocalist in the front, because it’s correct. Then Tokoyami and Kaminari opposite each other but one line behind me. Which meant we had to put Yaomomo next to Katsuki for symmetry.”

“Which still isn't symmetrical because you’re playing guitar not bass,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Exactly,” Kyoka nodded. “So I was thinking we could switch from the star layout and do a cross instead? Leave Yaomomo and Katsuki where they are but put Tokoyami in the middle and have Kaminari opposite me.”

“What, why?” Kaminari jumped, eyes wide. Knowing exactly what it meant to be up beside Kyoka on stage.

“Because we’re literally batting the guitar part back and forth between each other,” Kyoka retorted.

“Oh! And you could motion towards each other when you do it!” Ashido realised.

“And instead of having me walk downstage we could mimic the effect by having me walk to centre stage while Kaminari and Tokoyami shift into the star layout.”

“What about the mic?

“The stands bend Racoon Eyes,” Katsuki snorted. “Put the mic a little downstage of centre and have it swing out to where Ears is going to be.”

“And when I walk to the centre I can push it back with me. Which sets us up pretty good for the finale too. If Tokoyami’s up for it," Kyoka added, nodding to the boy.

“How so?” Tokoyami prompted cautiously.

“If we move back into cross position at the end of the vocals you can move downstage for your solo. Or you can stay put if you’re not up to the spotlight.”

Speaking of spotlights, they’d probably have to do a couple of run throughs with them all on, effects testing notwithstanding, because those things could be hot, heavy and intense. Fighting Monoma for the space was not going to be pleasant.

“We can give it a try next time we have the gym,” Ashido concluded. “I know the drumkit is a hassle to move back and forth but it would be great to get a couple full rehearsals in before the night before the show.”

“At the very least Kaminari, Tokoyami and I can bring the guitars, amps and a mic stand and we can mime to the demo,” Kyoka agreed reassuringly before they headed inside.

The dress rehearsals were the last stage of any production. Which was when everything started to feel real to Kyoka. The lyrics had been drafted, edited and memorised a week ago. The last of the effects had been finalised and the equipment had been installed and safety checked just the other day. They’d done technical rehearsals both dry and wet to make sure the timing and impact the production team was going for matched the intensity of the music and the lyrics. That had just left the costumes

With everything Yaomomo was doing, classes, learning her part of the song, regular vice rep duties, she hadn’t had the time, energy or resources to dedicate to costuming. Instead they’d gone a different route.

The band and the production teams got off pretty easily. They’d found a t-shirt printing company online that would screen print a bulk order of t-shirts for them quickly and for cheap. Admittedly they had ended up getting a full twenty in the order anyway; bulk prices and all. But for the show the dance team needed something a little more fashionable. It was a tall order considering the wide variety of body shapes that the costumes would need to be tailored to, especially for the boys in the class. But that’s where Uraraka had jumped in and showed off the power of one of her more overlooked proficiencies.

Bargain hunting and thrift shopping.

How she managed to find ten identical oversized suits for a pittance Kyoka did not know but it was probably more bullshit magic than any quirk. Then, combined with Shoji, Ojiro, Mineta (surprisingly) and Tokoyami’s experiences or contacts with tailors and tailoring, whether they did it themselves or had a family tailor because of their unique physicalities, the boy’s outfits were adjusted and fitted pretty easily. The girls’ outfits took a little more work, but hey, now Uraraka had three ‘volunteers’ to help her and one of them could hypothetically work on multiple outfits at the same time because he had more than two hands.

The suit jackets were adjusted for female proportions and then cut into crop tops that complimented their body types better. Under Uraraka's stewardship they went on to upcycle the pants into belted miniskirts, adding a faux fur trim for some flare. They absolutely gutted a fur coat to do it too, completely shredding the thing into pieces like they were spitting on the grave of Cruella de Vil. The final touches came in a cheap set of purple unitards that Hagakure found online and the red ties that they were just re-purposing from their school uniforms. Why unitards? So that no one, Mineta, was tempted to look up their skirts as they danced, jumped and flew around the venue. After they were made the effects team got their hands on them before handing them back to the dance crew after the glow effects were in.

The dance team had gotten to see their outfits for the first time three days before the night of the show. Ashido put them mercilessly through their paces in them and afterwards handed them, and herself, over to Uraraka. Uraraka drilled them relentlessly on their levels of comfort and mobility so alterations could be made.

All of that work that Kyoka understood very little of, but was eternally grateful that she had no control over, culminated in their final official dress rehearsal. A full run through, effects and all, of the whole song. In the end they decided to go with the rotation plan, especially once Ashido picked up pon Kyoka’s habit to look back at the specific members of the band at specific points in the song. Which meant that the guitar bags had to be mindful of where they left their wires to make sure things didn't get tangled with each other or Kyoka’s.

Kyoka wouldn’t say the rehearsal went perfectly. They had an hour-long time slot for a two minute performance and they had spent twenty minutes setting everything up, which was quite frankly a miracle, especially since they didn’t have any tech issues the rest of the night. It also didn’t help that they had the last time lost of the day, thanks 1B. But genuinely it was a good thing because it meant they could leave the effects equipment, heavy sound systems and whole ass drum kit (and keyboard) locked up in the gym overnight because they also had the first performance slot of the day. A bright and early ten am.

But still, with that much time on their hands and the nerves, exhaustion and excitement quickly letting in as the hour wore on things got, purposefully, chaotic. The girls pulled each other into improvised duo dances, Hagakure managed to convince Shoji to toss her into the air at some point and then the sly bugger walked away as she fell so that Ojiro had to take a dive to catch her, Mineta got Spider-Man ambushed by Sero and left in the rafters for a full five minutes, someone pushed Sero out of the rafters (it was Koji, they were pulling a Lion King) and he had to get caught by Sato, and Koji got some birds to pretend to be a ghost that showed up part way through one practice. On the practical side of things, Sero got to show off his animated video presentation that would be displayed on the led screen behind the band for the first time.

That wasn’t even accounting for the musical mischief that the band got up to. Besides Katsuki setting off the explosive effects at the wrong times on accident because he needed to clean his hands he threw in so many extra breakdowns. To get back at him, Kaminari shorted the lights that were on him at one point, somehow. One run through Yaomomo took advantage of the keyboard’s voice changer settings and played her part in organ (accordion), saxophone, whistle, rain sound effects, goblin sound effects, gunshot and breathing. Dark Shadow made a few appearances and Kyoka even let him sing the chorus one go around.

So yeah, not perfect. But it was a lot of fun and they did get a bunch of perfect, serious practices in inbetween the chaos that made Kyoka confident that they’d be able to bring down the house. After their final rehearsal most people were exhausted so they headed straight up to bed. That left a small skeleton crew to cool down and do a few last minute equipment checks. They needed to make sure they had everything, had the right amount of everything and how much they’d have left over after the show, and, most importantly, once more safety check things to make sure pyro containers weren’t cracked, electronics wouldn’t spark and things would still work tomorrow and they wouldn’t have to find out shit was fucked in the middle of the show on stage.

Iida was helping Kyoka go over the music equipment. They were checking the guitar strings, making sure they weren’t worn or rusted and that they had replacements on hand, they made sure they had spare drumsticks for Katsuki, plectrums still had to be accounted for and so did the cable and wires. Midoriya was on the other couch helping Kirishima and Todoroki with the effects gear. There were coloured slides, fluorescent glow bands, ammo and fuel for the pyrotechnic equipment scattered everywhere. Midoriya muttered equations under his breath while Kirishima ticked things off of a checklist and Todoroki's careful eye did the safety checks. Ashido and Kaminari just floated around, too overcharged to go to sleep just yet.

“Whoo, I can’t sleep!” Kaminari cheered excitedly. Case and point.

“Not so loud,” Ashido reprimanded him. “People are sleeping upstairs.”

“I just hope the audience will be that enthusiastic,” Iida said wistfully

“It’s better if you don’t think about it,” Kyoka replied idly. “Worrying about what others will think is just going to kill the vibe.”

She looked up from her work and around at all of them, smiling brightly. “So just focus on having fun, alright?”

“That’s good advice, " Midoriya nodded, “for more than just the performance.”

“Right,” Todoroki agreed. “When you try to make others feel good, you feel good too.”

Which was something he’d learnt first hand during his special remedial classes. Kyoka looked down at the next piece of equipment she needed to check. The black wire in her hand had a rough, bubbly section in the middle exposing some copper wires underneath which were distinctly blackened and charred.

“Damn,” Kyoka cursed.

“What’s wrong?” Iida asked, leaning over her shoulder. Kyoka shifted the wire over so Iida could get a look at it and he frowned in equal concern.

“The TS connector of one of the guitars is busted,” Kyoka reported to the others, coiling the wire back up and setting it far off to the side.

“How did that happen?” Todoroki frowned, grabbing the cable to inspect for himself. Kaminari popped up behind him to look too.

“Seems like the pyro effects from the stage melted it a little.”

“Yaoyorozu could make a new one,” Kaminari pointed out.

“She’s already in bed,” Ashido scowled, swatting his arm. “And don’t treat her like your own personal factory.”

Kaminari ducked around Ashido and stuck her tongue out at her, “says the person who treats me like their personal phone charger.”

“I can go buy a new one in the morning,” Midoriya offered, picking up the cable so he had an example to give a store clerk. “I’m up early for training tomorrow anyway.”

“Okay, but the performance is at ten tomorrow and most stores don’t open ‘till nine,” Kaminari cautioned.

“There’s a hardware store about fifteen minutes from campus that opens at eight,” Midoriya pointed out confidently.

“That’s cutting it close, but if you’re sure,” Kaminari shrugged. Kyoka, Iida, Todoroki and Kirishima quickly finished up the rest of their check, which is when they all decided to call it a night.

“Hey,” Kirishima beamed. “Let’s all do our best tomorrow, okay!”

Chapter Text

By the time Kyoka got up, a quick check of the Soundtrack told Kyoka that Midoriya had already headed off campus. So knowing that her help in their preparations that morning would be rebuffed she’d resolved to keep tabs on Midoriya instead.

Her absence from their morning preparations wasn’t due to a lack of expertise. Next to Kaminari and Katsuki her knowledge of soundchecks and concert tech troubleshooting were unmatched and, when it came to concerts and concerts alone, she could match both Yaomomo and Iida when it came to anal retentive checklists. When it came to live performance, if things could go wrong they would and the mentality was less ‘the show will go on’ and more ‘the show must go on’. She’d inherited her liveshow checklist from her parents and every live performance she’d seen or been a part of had only ever added more items to the list, which was why they knew the night before that Midoriya had to go get another TS cable in the first place (and why Kyoka had a list of backups running through her head if the store ended up not selling one or he didn’t make it in time).

No, her absence was strict orders from her classmate to relax before the show and their insistence on a fair division of labour. Since she and Ashido had done all the prep work and coaching to facilitate the show they were being benched when it came to the menial labour of preparation that morning, and the clean-up after the show too, at least to a lesser extent. The only work Kyoka had to do that morning was to rest her voice for the show, do her own hair and makeup before the show and get Katsuki to wear the ‘garish’ orange shirts they’d made. The first she was doing with the help of a nice cup of soothing tea as she watched her classmates frantically shuffle in and out of the dorms. The second she’d do at nine, half an hour before their call time, which would be fine considering how little of both she was going to do in the first place. And the last she could get away with doing just before they got on stage considering his only stated objection to the shirts was ‘orange is not my colour’ which was a blatant lie considering the orange accents in his hero costume. All he’d have to do was throw the shirt on over whatever he was wearing and they’d be fine.

But even with nothing to do that morning, Kyoka was still nervous. Not about the show, she knew that, no matter what, they’d kill it… if the school festival was allowed to run at all that is. Whether they’d make it to the festival and then all the way through it undisturbed was what had her on edge, especially considering their track record. Though, thinking about it, in the plentiful time that she had, it was ironic that every time they were attacked the school isolated them or made things more private to protect the students and the only time they weren’t attacked was during the most publicised event that U.A hosted. Which was why she was keeping an ear on Midoriya.

Kyoka glanced at a nearby clock.

Eight Thirty.

Something pricked at the edge of her awareness where she knew Midoriya was. It was something unfamiliar that the Soundtrack had determined was important enough to bring to her attention. The core of the theme sounded like it was played on an accordion. No, wait, concertina, it wasn’t as full and had a nasal quality that made it sound older, like someone put a radio interference filter on it. Its accompaniment was played on the strings in a purposefully contrasting legato style to the concertina’s light staccato. Not only that, the melody it was playing had a dissonant voice to the concertina, like two lines traveling perpendicular to each other were forced to play in concert but they couldn’t find the point they met and kept moving past each other. The beat was held by the back and forth of the trombones (oh, hang on, that was actually an otamatone) in the absence of any percussion.

It reminded Kyoka of Charlie Chaplin’s Non-sense song but made it sound discordant on purpose. It gave whoever was facing Midoriya a comedic edge to them that diminished the possibility that they were a threat. Which was a stark difference to the dark and monstrous music of Overhaul and how his influence haunted other people’s themes. The jarring nature of the theme betrayed an underlying insecurity or inner strife that Kyoka didn’t have the knowledge to place on a complete stranger. But it felt most like they were wearing a mask that didn’t suit them.

The concertina and otamatone faded out and the violins and violas overtook Midoriya’s corner of the Soundtrack. His own theme started to build up to a climax, as if anticipating a fight and Kyoka hoped beyond hope that he had the sense to try and de-escalate first. The strings played a repeated staircase pattern that went up three notes, came back down again and then repeated the staircase but thai time with a trio of notes a halftone higher. The same pattern repeated and repeated, picking up the pace of the interaction on the other person’s side as well and Kyoka resigned herself to this devolving headlong into a brawl eminently. For such a smart person Midoriya refused to solve problems with anything but his feet, fists and quirk.

The violins broke out into a longer legato melody. It still played that repeated staircase but this time it went downwards. For some reason it had a distinctly spy-like feel that Kyoka swore she’d heard somewhere before.

Kyoka’s hand drifted to the emergency button that was disguised as a plectrum that hung around her neck and lay under her shirt but Midoriya's theme flared defiantly.

“Jiro!” Ashido called, springing up from the couch and waving her phone through the air at the other girl. “They’re just about done setting up the gym.”

Tokoyami and Kaminari entered the dorms then, heading right for Kyoka where the guitar cases sat waiting. Even in those cases it was just safer to keep the delicate instruments away from anything heavy or the hustle and bustle of backstage where accidents were more likely to happen. Ashido bounded over to meet them and Kyoka figured it was about time they headed out.

“Hey!” Kaminari grinned, “we’re going to take these to the gym now and get the guitars tuned up after costumeing.”

“We’re ready for you.” Tokoyami dipped his head as he spoke solemnly, holding out a hand for Kyoka to take. He was definitely leaning into the mannerisms of a regency Gentleman and Kyoka couldn’t help but raise an amused eyebrow at him. Tokoyami chittered in that way Kyoka had come to know was him trying to hide his laughter behind his more inhuman behaviours and she huffed in Gentle acceptance. Kyoka glanced over at the clock again.

Eight forty.

She took Tokoyami’s hand and straightened into a ‘proper’ posture as he helped her rise. Kyoka dipped her head politely at him in turn before they parted with laughter and went to pick up their respective guitars.

“Right, let’s go,” Kyoka agreed, slipping her headphones over her ears preemptively. “I need to get through hair and make-up anyway.”

She followed Tokoyami, Kaminari and Ashido out of the dorms. Ashido looped her arm around Kaminari’s free arm, leaning into him and dragging his attention left and right at all the festival stalls that caught her attention on their route. Dark Shadow curled themself around Tokoyami’s shoulder chatting as they walked. They were taking the shortest route between the dorms and the gym around the back of U.A’s main building. Still the path was an explosion of colours as far as the eye could see. Pop up stalls for food and merchandise, buildings fabricated or repurposed for attractions. Kyoka could see the main stage ahead of them on the sports field where Present Mic was setting up a DJ booth for announcements and to pump music out across the festival through speakers scattered around campus. It was also where the beauty pageant would be hosted later. Flagstrings hung above the path, Kyoka could see balloons at every turn and students and the few local businesses allowed to participate in the event were still running around putting finishing touches on stalls and hiding extra boxes of merchandise and supplies under the tables.

They entered the gym from the back, an emergency exit that had been propped open just for the event so that they could use it as a cast and crew door. 1B were already loading some of their bigger props and sets that they couldn’t move in the twenty minutes between the end of 1A’s show and the beginning of their concert and a few were already in costume. Kyoka let Kaminari and Tokoyami lead them into the designated green room set up before they all broke off to get ready.

They reconvened with the rest of the class just after quarter to nine. The band clumped together to tune up and warm up, in the absence of instruments Katsuki cracked his knuckles and spun his sticks between his fingers while Yaomomo mimed the motion of playing a piano nervously. The dance team did some similar stretches in the small space they were allotted while Uraraka obsessed over smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric of their costumes.

“It’s almost time, my nerves are killing me,” Kaminari fretted fiddling unnecessarily with the tuning pegs of his guitar. Kyoka had the urge to slap his hand away before he snapped a string or twisted the thing completely out of tune but refrained.

Just take a few deep breaths,” Yaomomo advised, not quite able to keep her own nerves from showing on her body as she shook uncontrollably. “Try to centre yourself Kaminari.”

“Are you sweating Yaomomo?” Tokoyami wondered in disbelief as he strapped the bass over his shoulder. He was much more relaxed than everyone else, at least on the surface. His theme was playing in a register that was an octave higher than it normally did and at a faster tempo too, mimicking the increased pace of his tuplet heart-beat and betraying his nerves. But his posture remained solid and his hands didn't shake an inch.

“Kats, we went through the trouble of getting shirts made, could you at least put yours on?” Kyoka deadpanned. Katsuki scowled.

“Please?” she implored. Katsuki just scowled harder, picking at the cuffs of his black dress shirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Texture and fiber count.”

“... I'm not going to pretend I know what that means. You can just put it on over your shirt, y'know, and it’s not like we’ll ever need or use them again after the show unless you want to hold onto a memento.”

Katsuki reached over and snatched the t-shirt out of Kyoka’s hands with a resigned growl.

“Midoriya isn’t here,” Sero commented, looking around the room.

“He went to pick up some supplies earlier,” Todoroki explained, setting a cardboard box down on a nearby table.

“But he should be back by now,” Sero pointed out. “Isn’t it odd?”

“He’ll make it in time,” Kyoka assured them, focus drifting back to the Soundtrack where Midoriya was. The fight had escalated with Midoriya's opponent in the leading role. The concertina had been upgraded to a bandoneon, a shift Kyoka was able to identify less from the sound quality and more from the change in genre. In this case from British ‘silent film’ comedy to Italian tango. The bandoneon was playing the libertango as a solo, its only accompaniment some hand clapping keeping the bass rhythm in the absence of other instruments. It was fast paced, sharp and fierce like the dance the song was for, but it wasn’t something Midoriya couldn’t adapt to or keep up with. “He’s just run into a little trouble. He’ll make it in the nick of time. He has a habit of doing that.”

“How do you?”

Kyoka gestured absently to her head.

“Right.”

“Shouldn’t we tell a teacher?” Uraraka brought up, worry etched on her face.

“And get the entire festival shut down out of misplaced overprotectiveness?” Katsuki barked, saying what Kyoka was thinking without an ounce of hesitation. “Fuck no.”

Kyoka had considered telling a teacher, but then she looked around at the nervous and excited faces of her classmates. She knew how much work they’d put into this during the last month to make this show happen, she knew how much work the school as a whole had put in and if they didn’t have the festival then tensions were only going to rise and get worse. But she also knew how much of her heart and soul she’d poured into this and Kyoka just couldn’t bring herself to do the responsible thing. Sure, that was selfish but quite frankly she didn’t give a shit. This entire festival was about being selfish, even if her class had decided to do something selfless with it.

Eri’s theme jingled away in the Soundtrack’s undernotes.

It also wouldn’t do to disappoint everyone, especially her. So it seemed Midoriya and Kyoka’s resolutions were aligned. Which means she’d put her faith in him and stay silent. Just one last time.

Kyoka didn’t notice how she started humming the melody of Midoriya’s theme as she rubbed absently at her sternum, projecting his slice of the Soundtrack outwards unconsciously as she tugged at his it. With his theme came all the determination and confidence that it represented, soothing her own worries, at least for now. But more astounding was the effect it had on the room at large. Yaomomo’s stiff hold on her posture relaxed into its neutral grace. Kaminari stopped jittering as much. Tokoyami’s heartbeat slowed. Uraraka finally stopped fretting about the wrinkles in the costumes and worries and nerves around the room slowly melted away.

The music of the fight drew closer and closer to U.A’s grounds, crashing into the deep woods surrounding U.A’s main campus. The bandoneon fizzled out as did the clapping before violin stepped up to carry the solo and keep the fight going. Either Midoriya was fighting a duo, one physical and the other supportive, that were tag teaming in a sense now that the first had been taken down. Or whoever Midoriya was fighting had drastically changed their fighting style or thought process. But Kyoka just couldn't tell without prior visual reference.

Then the full libertango started to play, violin and bandoneon together in harmony as they brought up the full orchestra. Two partners weaving back and forth and across a stage, sharp and dangerous like burning flame but elegant and flowing like a rushing river. Flash and pomp and undivided devotion. Kyoka could hear Ectoplasm and Hound Dog’s themes were approaching the area where the fight was happening and Kyoka found herself holding her breath, hoping this was finished before they got there.

The libertango snapped to an unnatural, unexpected finish and Kyoka let her breath go. Then Midoriya’s theme, accompanied by Ectoplasm, went in the opposite direction of the school. Kyoka’s face heated up as she cursed softly under her breath so that only Shoji could hear. She glanced at the clock on the wall as Mr Aizawa led Togata and Eri inside.

Nine thirty.

“Goddamn it Midoriya, you’re running out of time.”

It was clear the three were here to see him from the way Togata looked around anxiously and Eri’s melancholy expression wavered to a neutral sadness. Mr Aizawa focused swiftly on the class representative.

“Midoriya’s not back yet?”

Iida shook his head in response, hand raised to make a declaration when Sero and Hagakure jumped in.

“All he had to do was buy a cable, what’s taking him so long!” Sero screeched indignantly.

“I mean for real!” Hagakure agreed. Mr Aizawa looked over at Kyoka who pretended not to notice and stayed quiet.

“Is Mr Deku not going to perform?” Eri asked Togata. He looked down at her and waved his hands across his chest.

“No! I mean, yes!” Togata reassured her, “I'm sure he’ll make it back in time. You know what Eri? How about we head inside and see the stage? We have to get in early if we want the best view of the show.”

“Okay.”

The moment they were out of the green room the class started to talk logistics. Even though Kyoka knew he’d make it back in time, he’d kill himself to make it back in time, it was always better to plan for the worst. The show must go on, after all.

“Jiro, how far out is he?” Yaomomo asked.

“Eta around thirty minutes if nothing goes wrong. Ectoplasm is with him,” Kyoka reported dutifully.

“How did that-?” Tokoyami started to wonder.

“I don’t think we want to know,” Shoji interrupted, putting a hand around his beak gently.

“Even if he doesn’t make it back for the dance portion he’ll still make it back for the climax,” Yaomomo affirmed.

“And if he doesn’t?” Kirishima asked warily.

“Then Todoroki does effects plan version two point three from before we brought Midoriya on,” Sero instructed, looking over at Todoroki who nodded in understanding after a brief pause. Koji also confirmed he knew what Sero was talking about, but Krishima still looked lost so Sero moved away and pulled him aside to explain what that meant for the show. It was fascinating to see Sero take a leadership role, especially in the face of Kirishima and Todoroki’s larger presences (in two completely opposite styles), even if he used Kirishima as the group’s face at times. Smart boy, not wanting to risk Ashido’s ire.

“That doesn’t fix the cable problem,” Uraraka pointed out.

“I can make us a new one,” Yaomomo offered.

“No, it would be better to save your reserves for the effects later,” Sero called back, “we might need to compensate.”

“We can play an instrument down,” Kaminari decided. When everyone turned to look at him he was staring at the guitars that were waiting at the side of the room for them. From his tone, he was thinking about how they had two guitars of the same type.

“Kaminari.”

“It’s your show Jiro. I know you have the whole guitar part memorised since it was supposed to be one part from the start,” Kaminari pointed out. “I’m fine with sitting this one out. The show must go on, and all.”

He placed the cable in her hand and Kyoka found herself speechless; she couldn’t find anything to say to get him to take it back. It wouldn’t be fair to just have him sit out, even though he wouldn’t really be; even after all the practice Kaminari knew how to run the electronics and sound better than any of the production team. But the show also wouldn’t be right without all of the guitar.

“Tokoyami can take my place in the formation.” Kaminari was still talking like this was a foregone conclusion. Like she couldn’t see the sorrow etched into hsi features, the resignation and disappointment in his posture. He put on a brave face, but sadness came off of him in waves. He turned back to look at Kyoka. His smile was fragile and small and his eyes soft but gleaming for a fraction of a second before he tried to beam at her, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Knock them dead for me, yeah?”
It didn’t sit right with her.

Kaminari was part of this piece, just as much as everyone else was. She’d built this song with a place for everything that mattered to her in mind. To not have Kaminari in his place, even if he was still close at hand, would be an affront, to him and to her. She knew that this was the most logical and practical solution in the event that Midoriya didn’t make it back in time. But it wasn’t a fair one. Kyoka was helpless as she desperately wracked her brain for another option and the class put the fate of the show in Midoriya’s hands. But there wasn’t another option, not a logical one anyway.

At five to, an assistant came in to give them their places call and everyone filtered out of the green room. The production team would head for the catwalks in the rafters, the dance team would head to the left wing and the band to the right so that they could all get on stage without tripping over each other, and Kaminari. Kyoka picked up one of the electric guitars and grabbed his shoulder before he could leave. She shoved the star shaped yellow guitar into his arms, letting him grab it instinctively. Before he could protest she jacked one end of the cable into the instrument and held the other end out towards him.

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” Kyoka hissed, “but you are getting on that stage. I am not letting the days everyone in this class has poured into this show go to waste. I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.”

“But it won’t sound right if I play and you don’t,” he protested. He was still missing the point, that wasn’t how she built the song, that wasn’t how the performance went.

“But it wouldn’t be right without you.”

She’d done it. She’d actually rendered him speechless and his face slowly turned red as he turned her words over in his mind.

“Now take the goddamn cable.” He did so numbly, as if under Hitoshi’s spell. As soon as Kyoka’s hands were free she spun him around by the shoulders and shoved him towards the door. “And go.”

That snapped Kaminari out of it as he stumbled forwards and looked back at Kyoka from the doorway.

“But what are you going to do about the cable?” he protested.

“I can stall ‘til curtains up,” Kyoka shrugged, though she was tense.

“How-”

“Trust me,” Kyoka told him and for once it wasn’t a question. Kaminari looked at her again, decision made, resolve set, it was a losing battle and Kaminari knew it so he slung the guitar by its strap over his shoulder. “Now get out there.”

Kyoka waited as she listened to the sounds of her classmates taking their places on stage. She waited as she picked up her electric guitar and slung it over her shoulder. She wanted, hearing the clock tick behind her and the crowd murmuring ahead of her as she took slow, purposeful steps out of the door of the green room and towards the stage. She could hear her classmates murmur quiet questions to Kaminari who could only shrug helplessly in response as he plugged his guitar in. She could imagine the scowl blooming on Katsuki's face and the sly grin Koji would shoot her later.
Kyoka stopped-

Two minutes.

-and turned as the boys locker room burst open and Midoriya dashed out in costume. His eyes widened in relief as he spotted her, stumbling over himself as he adjusted his cuffs and raced to meet her. Kyoka could see the ‘i’m sorry’ on his lips better than the white plastic bag in his hand with the dark silhouette of a cable within it.

“Hey Midoriya, right in the nick of time,” Kyoka told him lightly. “You had me worried there for a second, almost made me a liar too.”

Both were massive understatements but the others could have his head on a platter later. Midoriya’s eyes grew even bigger and he forcefully swallowed his apology.

“You knew,” he blinked.

“Yep.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Midorya asked, guarded and soft.

“You weren’t the only one who made a promise,” Kyoka reminded him curtly. She turned and started leading him towards the wings. “Besides, kats would actually murder me if I willingly let this whole thing get cancelled.”

“Haha, yeah,” Midoriya winced. Kyoka raised an eyebrow at him.

“So can I get that cable?” she asked, gesturing to the plastic bag he was holding in the hand raised behind his head.

“Oh, yeah.” Midoriya opened the bag and passed her the coiled cable. Kyoka took a second to undo the twine securing it but left the thing looped up around her hand. He bowed to her. “I’m sorry I held you up.”

“Don’t be, I can work with this,” Kyoka assured him. She slipped around Midoriya and gave him a shove forwards. “Just get out there.”

“Right!” Midoriya yelped, jogging ahead of her. Kyoka smiled after him, taking a moment to gauge the swelling music in the Soundtrack as it obligingly lowered in volume. The clock struck ten, the lights went out.

Beep!

It’s showtime.

Chapter Text

The curtains were drawn open, revealing everyone on stage, shrouded in deep shadows as they were backlit by the screen on the gym’s back wall.

Everyone except Kyoka.

Kyoka was still hidden behind the curtains in the wings, leaving an obviously empty position in front of the microphone. A ripple of confused murmurs ran through the crowd and Kyoka took that as her cue to step out from behind the curtains. A spotlight fell over Kyoka’s head and everyone watched as she walked behind the frozen dancers and Kaminari to the microphone. The entire time she kept the coiled cable visible at her side with every heavy step. The sound of her boots against the stage echoed over the hall pointedly and added to the soft rumble of noise.

Her jacks took one end of the cable and plugged it into the amplifier at her feet. Then, in a smooth upward motion she plugged the jack into her guitar making a wide arch with her left hand before bringing it down in the same stroke to hit a power chord. The sound echoed throughout the room, silencing the crowd. Kyoka took one last steadying breath as she gave the subtle signal Sero was scanning for.

The light behind them went dark.

The voices of her parents echoed in her ears.

Kyoka, you can do anything you set your mind to.

Hero, musician, they aren’t so different, are they?

Katsuki tapped his sticks together, setting the tempo.

Her classmates’ hearts beat in time all around her.

Music is your heart and soul.

When you teach you light up like a supernova.

You’re Muse because you inspire me.

You don’t have to carry this weight alone.

Use your music to make people smile.

His voice echoed around them, counting them off.

“One, Two. One-”

And deep down in the depths of her hearts and her memories resurfaced that gentle voice from so, so long ago. When crooked hands guided hers across frets and strings for the first time.

“-Two-”

Hollow eyes beside tear-stained roughshod paper and words written in warping ink. Words that Kyoka could still hear in a voice that never said them on the day she learnt that music could lie just as easily as people could.

“-Three-”

Your music will change the world someday, just like it changed my mind every day.

“-Four!”

Kaboom!

A massive explosion erupted behind Kyoka, blowing her clothes and hair forwards. But she remained unphased and Katsuki started the show with a bang as he rocketed into his opening solo. Then, the rest of the instruments joined in and the dancers started to move. Kyoka placed a hand to her chest before she started singing.

“What am I to be?

What is my calling?”

They were questions she’d been grappling with herself all the time growing up. Even standing here now Kyoka found that she didn’t have a concrete answer… but she didn’t need to.

Kyoka picked up the guitar line from Kaminari. It was a simple three notes in an upward staircase that Kaminari could totally handle now but they’d never phased this part of the back and forth out, the conversation between the two instruments too interesting to ignore. She threw it back to Kaminari for the chords, then extended her arm to raise her pointer finger in sync with the dancers.

“I gave up giving up, I’m ready to go.”

She twisted so that she was side on so that she was facing Kaminari and they exchanged a grin as she sang the next line. A subtle but pointed nod to Sir Nighteye but also a reminder of life’s infinite possibilities, because no one’s fate is set in stone and no one had to be defined by their past. She looked at Midoriya’s back as she and Kaminari made vollying motions at each other playfully like their guitars were badminton rackets.

“The future’s left unseen,

It all depends on me,

Put it on the line to follow my dreams.”

“Yeah!” Kyoka cheered, punching a fist towards the audience in time with Yaomomo’s keystroke.

“Tried all my life,

I tried to find.”

The next part, Kaminari and Kyoka, played together.

“Something that makes me hold on and never let go.”

“Oh!” Kyoka’s eyes widened in surprise as she heard a string instrument pipe up with an original trill before seamlessly blending in to and matching the score as she and Yaomomo alternated on playing the ascending scale that bridged the chorus. It wasn’t an instrument conventional to the pop-rock genre that they were playing in being a traditional oriental koto but it was intimately familiar and fit itself in perfectly. The koto kept pace with ease and then kept playing with them after.

“Hero too I am a hero too.

My heart is set,

And I won't back down.”

Memories of fingers dressed in metal claws skittering like spiders over strings settled in the front of Kyoka’s mind. When hollow eyes shimmered and shined and Kyoka was just starting to learn to play. Everyday, those eyes, that smile and music Kyoka was just starting to appreciate.

“Hero too, strength doesn’t make a hero.

True heroes, stand up for what they believe,

So wait and see.”

Their words to her spilled out of Kyoka's mouth in a new way. A new voice carried this old melody, two hearts long apart coming together again. Words left unsaid drove her forwards, hollow eyes lit her way.

A spark went off from Katsuki's hands and the display on the screen shifted to a dark night to accentuate the wave of colours the explosive drummer had set off. Columns of coloured fire reached for the sky and the lights shifted to aim at the crystals that hung like snowflakes and suspended raindrops around the gym. The reflection and refraction lit up the audience in waves of rainbows and soft frosty blues giving Kyoka a brief moment to pinpoint Eri in the middle of the crowd in togota's arms as the light passed over them.

Kyoka refocused herself, leaving the gusheng alone in the Soundtrack as her eyes found Tokoyami, then she shifted to be front facing so that she could catch a view of Shoji on the far left from the corner of her eye and she projected as much intent as she could at them and the absent Hitoshi.

“What do you think of me?

What do you think I'll be?

I could not care less, I don't wanna know.”

Because those words were for them, and everyone else liked them. Pursue your dreams, naysayers be damned, because you can’t know how far you could fly until you let go. Kyoka threw her head back as another set of percussive instruments played alongside them from in the Soundtrack. Another piece slotting into a puzzle that Kyoka couldn’t quite make out yet.

“Am I doing right?

Am I satisfied?

I want to live my life like it’s, meant to be,

Yeah!”

The percussion made her think of Koji and Katsuki, and with them, Muse. What did it mean to be a Muse? Kyoka wasn’t a goddess any more than she was an idol, but like the Muses she knew things no mortal reasonably should. She didn’t have stories to tell, but she did whisper secrets in people's ears. Kayak didn’t know if she wanted to be an inspiration though. It made her feel unapproachable, in a way that went against her holistic experience of life because of the Soundtrack. But she couldn’t really escape the title either. She was Katsuki's Muse, this was her being a Muse. So, Kyoka decided she’d make the Muse a guide. To what? Well they’d just have to see.

Kyoka started playing her half of the bridge as Mineta took centre stage.

“Tried all my life,

I’ve tried to find.”

Then she passed it off to Kaminari to hold the microphone and adjust it slightly.

“Something that makes you hold on and never let go,

Oh!”

This time Kaminari and Yaomomo played the ascending and descending bridge together. Then Yaomomo let streamers burst out of her forearm like confetti cannons. The fog machine sent out jets of smoke that bracketed the audience and filled the ceiling before being trapped there by Todoroki's dome of ice.

“Hero too I am a hero too.

My heart is set,

And I won't back down.”

Some of the dancers leapt off the stage and onto the pathways Todoroki had created for them, continuing to dance there. Koji and Hagakure were working together to manipulate the lights around the gym to mimic a disco ball and create a rainbow projection on the fog around the room and on the ceiling.

“Hero too, strength doesn’t make a hero,

True heroes stand up for what they believe.

So wait and see.”

Sero’s digital display went wild behind them and Kyoka and the other guitarists took advantage of the distraction and the open stage to rotate their positions and put Kyoka at centre stage in time for the soft, intimate part of the song.

A keytar and a violin slipped into the Soundtrack, the percussion disappearing with Katsuki’s drumming to give them more space. The keytar complemented Yaomomo, the violin added rhythm to kakminari’s sustained chords and the koto did the same for Tokoyami.

“People will judge, for no reason at all.

Yeah, they might try

To say your dream’s dumb, don’t listen!"

The lyrics and the new instruments reminded Kyoka of a conversation she’d had with her parents when applying to U.A. She’d been so afraid to squander her gifts she’d projected her own insecurities onto their potential reaction, but they could never be anything but supportive. Both of her chosen paths, and her indecision. But Kyoka got the feeling now that they’d both seen the hero thing coming a long time ago. Kyoka took this section of picking and warped doublets.

“They may look down on me, and count me out,