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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

7/4/2024 note: all the author's notes are old. Ignore them. They're all in the context of ffnet, too.

..

Looking at the imaginary internet numbers on this fic, I feel happiness. But seriously, one chapter by a relatively new author? 305 follows? In 1 chapter?

Owo

Thx for all the support, and here's another chapter!

(9/18/2023: I edited the arguments in here.)

-SpiritOfErebus

Hans lay down on the couch, sighing as a loose activation of his noble phantasm healed him. He was glowing slightly blue in the process, tainting the dark living room with ethereal wisps of azure light. Said light, however, interfered with the screen of the computer slightly.

"Why does writing even come with a fog effect?" Hans said, irritatingly waving his hand in front of the screen.

He looked down at the activation of his noble phantasm. A power that allowed him to aid the target to achieve their ideal self through his words.

…Maybe just writing the word healthy for himself was a bit too vague. Still, he yawned and stretched on the couch. Today had been a long day.

The little match girl was struggling for the light switch, while the elder tree watched from the corner in her flowerpot, slightly dejected. The snow queen, however, was not so uncaring about their situation.

"You couldn't even pass a hero exam." She said, looking at some of Hans's ripped shirts on the floor. The mermaid hovering around Hans's neck chose that moment to swim through the air and lunge at the snow queen, who absentmindedly batted the small creature away.

"Well, I never pretended to be competent." Hans sighed, scratching at one of the burns on his back. "At least I got a good poke at some of the brats."

"Speaking of which, was that really necessary?" the snow queen said, "I mean, why do you even care?"

"Why did I save that hero in the alleyway?" Hans asked himself. "I do a lot of things. I mean, I wrote you…"

"Damn you…" the snow queen said, gritting her teeth. "Stop avoiding talking about yourself by insulting the person in front of you!"

Hans took off his glasses and cleaned it on his simple, white shirt. He brushed some blue locks of hair out of the way of his equally blue eyes before putting the old fashioned design on once more.

"Honestly, I don't see a reason for changing." Hans said. "The world is filled with hypocrisy. Demonic and incomprehensible women. Like Kiara. The upper class. The lower class. Authors that have to work and write for hours and hours just to get some brea-"

"I get your point." The snow queen said, "But why does this keep coming back to you distancing yourself from everybody else? I literally live in a frozen castle and even I know that it's unhealthy!"

"Don't you get it?" Hans said. "The author turns to the pen when the world doesn't go his way. I've accepted that I'm unsociable and rather insufferable. Why, if you ask Charles, he would say that I was the worst houseguest he had ever had."

"Charles Dickens has been dead for hundreds of years."

"Haven't I been dead for hundreds of years as well?" Hans said.

"And you're doing it again!"

"Either way," Hans said, "I have resigned myself to my fate. At least this time I wasn't summoned on a mission to save the world… or in a computer on the moon or something."

"Anyways why'd you antagonize your future classmates…" the snow queen sighed, exasperated.

"Future classmates?" Hans said, smirking at his own creation. "I got dead last on the exams. I mean, they were literally races."

The lights chose that moment to turn on. Hans blinked furiously, the sudden lights causing some amount of discomfort.

"Did you finally reach the light switch?" Hans said, looking back at the doorway. What met his eyes was not the sight of the little girl that always made him feel guilty. It was…

"Hey, mom." Hans said, "You heard all that, didn't you."

He sighed. Damn his rank D territory creation. If he had any sort of actual ability as a mage, he wouldn't be surprised by stuff like this.

"Last place on the exam?" his mother said, walking into the room. "Did you do that badly?"

Hans raised a single leg. "The course was like, two kilometers. And lined with robots. How many steps do you think I'll need to reach the end?"

In contrast to Hans's gaunt and short figure, his mom, in this life, was actually fairly tall. She lived a life that Hans dreaded, filled with calls of deadlines and an omnipresent pressure to do well.

If there were two people that he could never disrespect, it was his parents. Though almost never present, they did work hard for his sake.

"Failing a hero exam is nothing!" his father said, grinning despite the bags under his eyes. "I remember when I dreamed of being a hero. Then, my quirk came in, and-"

"Yes, yes." Hans groaned. "You've told me this story tons of times. At least work on an introduction if you're going to keep persisting on rambling it out."

"Well, you can always write me one, can you not? Anne, what do you think? How many… reads does Hans have again?"

His mother crossed her arms, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Alfred. You don't remember the novel that our son published?"

"That was rushed work at best." Hans interjected. "And I regret my decision about publishing that series."

"Well, at least nobody will know you wrote it." Alfred said, chuckling. "Giving you that writer's name basically gave you a pseudonym."

"Nobody remembers who wrote the Little Mermaid or the Little Match Girl." Hans said, grunting. "They're all too busy watching videos of All Might or something. Who needs fairytales when more exciting stories are being published by the day?"

The little match girl shuffled over to Hans and grabbed his legs. Then, she looked at him like she was having an existential crisis. His mother tustled the blonde hair of the nameless little girl, making her look up and give a weak smile.

"Well, at least Disney is doing remakes again." Anne said, now turning her gaze to Hans. "Why are you so defensive of fairytales anyways? Is it just because of your quirk? If you want, we could go see-"

"No." Hans stuttered. "They ruined m-those stories! They were never meant to be cheerful tales! But just to give their movie a neat and happy ending, Disney-"

"Why'd you have to mention Disney again?" Alfred whispered, glaring at his wife. Anne glared back.

"-they even gave the Tin Soldier a happy ending! I mean, why did they even bother to credit me? The-"

Eventually, the snow queen had to freeze Hans's mouth shut.

…

The Essay was something that was spreading across the UA faculty like wildfire. Many shunned its cynical and supposedly shallow arguments.

"What hero would recommend such a student?" Present Mic said loudly, scratching his strangely styled hair gently. "I mean, who is this Hans Christian Anderson kid again?"

Nedzu began to cackle. "He's the one who wrote the fate series light novels a couple of years ago."

"Wait… a couple of years ago… that means that-"

"Yes. Hans Christian Anderson wrote an entire book series when he was ten years old."

The room was silent for a moment.

"Wait, isn't there some other writer with that same name?" Midnight, of all people, said.

"Yes." Nedzu said, his rattling teacup now carefully placed besides the manuscript of an essay that Hans had written. "The fairytale author Hans Christian Anderson. Also, I never really took you for a fairytale reading type, Midnight."

"…This is growing stranger and stranger." Aizawa said. "His quirk, too, concerns these tales. You can identify them one by one."

"The little match girl. The little mermaid. I… wanna… say… Thumbelina?" Snipe grunted, his stoic mask not hiding his confusion.

"What a strange series of… coincidences…" Nedzu smirked. "I approve of him."

"What?" the teachers yelled.

"Such an immature brat has no place in the hero industry." Aizawa snarled. "It's for his own good that we reject him."

"No, no." Nedzu said, smiling. "He wrote the essay in order to be rejected, and instead, replaced the essay with the boldest, most scathing truths that he could contend about the hero industry. Now, tell me, do any of you actually act as heroes just to save people?"

"Of course I… do?" Snipe shouted, before hesitating. He remembered his childhood, and how he had always wanted to take his slingshot, crossbow, and later BB-gun to greater heights just to prove that flashy elemental or mutant quirks weren't the only powers that could make a hero.

Everybody stared at the ground. Clearly Snipe wasn't alone in his reminiscing.

Nedzu grinned. "Don't worry. Even if we're all upstanding citizens, it's understandable that we're also selfish. But it's because we like our current lives, and its this adherence to the status quo that inspires us to give our lives in order to protect our status quo, so that a world that we want, a world where we can profit and improve our living situation, could exist as well."

"That's… that's… from the essay." Midnight said, slowly sitting down in shock.

"It's still ridiculous." Aizawa said, crossing his arms. "Many people still become heroes in order to inspire change, or out of the innate goodness of their heart."

"Ah, but this essay also covers how to inspire people to act… with a cause that they can rally behind. It could be advocating for disadvantageous quirks, or using saving people as a way of self fulfillment."

"What about All Might, dude?" Present Mic shouted enthusiastically. "All Might is the symbol of peace! Surely, he would represent a hero that exhibits altruism!"

"Still, now that we look at it, it's not a terrible essay." Snipe said. "Cynical as it was, it still had its points. 'Sides, he did save that most recent victim of the Hero Killer."

"The combat hero Iceblade." Aizawa muttered dully. "Though his rankings are relatively low, he's still very popular in his area. I've had the… inconvenience of running into somebody of his… personality."

"Oh, Nichin-san isn't that bad. He's just a bit loud, like me!" Present Mic said, patting Aizawa on the back and grinning. "Besides, isn't it good that he's alive? Without that kid's healing quirk, he would have bled out."

"All in favor of allowing him in?"

"Wait, where's Vlad King?"

"He's helping Cementoss with the blueprints of the regular exam's mock city."

"Ah. Anyways…"

In the end, there were two agreements, one disagreement, and one neutral.

"But… he did score last on the practical." Aizawa argued, looking into the harsh eyes of the applicant staring up at him through a photo. "How are we going to explain that? We email the ones who recommended each student the scores of those on the practical."

"Just let Iceblade add in a note." Nedzu said. "I'm sure nobody will disagree. Except for you, of course, Aizawa-kun."

…

Toshinori Yagi thumbed through the essay, his skinny face growing darker and sadder with each passing word. A hand wrinkled the photocopied essay as he read the word Altruism for the last time.

"I'll prove to you… Anderson-san… that a real hero does exist!" he said, trying to inflate some positivity back into himself.

His walkie talkie blared. "All Might, we have a situation ten-forty two near Mustafu Bridge…"

A police siren sounded in the distance. Putting away the papers into one of the hidden pockets on his costume, Toshinori bulked up again, jumped off of the rooftop of the All Might agency, and with a jovial laugh, waved at the passersby.

Yet still, a hint of doubt remained in his mind.

Why was he a hero? Maybe… It was to prove something.

…

Chizome Akaguro stalked the streets, his footsteps silent, yet his breaths were long and heavy.

His latest victim had… survived. Aided by an unnamed brat with a healing quirk. Underneath the raincoat that he wore despite the uncomfortably stifling humid air of March, he gripped the seasoned guard of his katana in an iron fist.

"Why…" he thought. "Why does the world oppose my revolution so?"

He had checked the forums. And seen the comments. Although some had joined him in believing his creed of heroes, many others merely scoffed in disbelief or fear. Additionally, none had joined him in his noble crusade, and had taken the act of cleansing society into their own hands like himself.

"And if today couldn't get any worse…" A deep voice groaned, the rustling of a plastic bag meeting Stain's ears.

"A villain?" Stain thought. His days as Stendhal were behind him, but he still was more than glad to eliminate society of its most baseless forms of garbage.

So, what was this? A body disposal? A deal gone wrong? Katana in his hands, Stain crept to the roof of the building, jumping from rusty fire escape to windowsill, and then to a hole in the wall that once hosted a brick, before finally stopping his parkour and peeking over the ledge.

…A small, blue-haired boy was carrying a grocery bag. Inside it, a brown liquid leaked from the plastic bag. With what was left of his nose, Stain sniffed out the scent of coffee.

So it was just a student.

But as Stain looked at the student, he noticed several odd… creatures hovering around. Several things that only his faraway childhood contained.

"You noticed them too, huh?" the boy below said. "Stendhal. Or… do you prefer Stain?"

Stain remained silent.

"You insult his name, by the way." The boy said, scratching his head. "Stendhal was a French author, you know? He's not just some cool name you got off the internet."

Stain's self esteem took a blow.

"His work focused on realism and thorough analysis of his characters, but you now take his name and… commit such irrational acts."

"Irrational? Irrational?"

Stain leapt down from the building and rolled onto the asphalt streets, katana flashing in the street lamps.

"How dare you, a foul mouthed brat, call my acts of necessary evil irrational?"

The boy stared unflinchingly into Stain's eyes.

"It's simple. Because it is."

Stain's grip tightened on his katana, and he resolved to scare the attitude out of the kid. Severe sass or not, he still didn't deserve to die.

A blade flashed through the air and stopped inches before the boy's eyeballs.

"A blonde man with portal gates tried to do the exact same thing as you once." He said, smirking. "But now that you've reacted in such a way, I know that I've struck a nerve. Like that blonde man, I insulted him, his ideals, his way of life, his actions, and the results that he obtained. And now I shall do the same to you."

"And why would you do such a thing?" Stain snarled. "I have slain tens of heroes with this blade, and with this very same blade, I shall slay many more."

"Because I fear death less than my silence." The blue-haired boy said. "To stop me from speaking and writing what I really think would be to let my soul die a silent and ignoble death. If I do not speak now, I shall regret it for the rest of my life. Thus, I speak."

"Then, why is it irrational?" Stain barked, though with a significantly less amount of anger. His tone leaned on one of confusion.

"The title of hero is not deserved by many. On that, you are correct." The boy said, sighing. "The true definition of hero has been lost, and none can lay claim to the title."

Once again, a red rage took over Stain's gaze.

"How dare you insult-"

"All Might, right?" he said. "Truth be told, we don't really know a lot about All Might's backstory. All we know is his efficiency in dealing with the villain threat."

Stain listened to this wimpy retort, raised his sword, and… sheathed it. Because… he didn't even know All Might's name, much less his motivations.

"But even if we don't know his motivation, that doesn't matter. The real problem isn't with the heroes anyways."

"Then where is it?" Stain said. "And if another vague statement comes out of your tongue, I shall remove it."

"Then take it." The boy said. "I will still have my hands to write. And these annoying creatures to speak for me.

As Hans spoke, a small barrier of roots and ice slowly peeked out of his collar and pants. The cold was very uncomfortable, but it would be worth surviving.

"But either way, Hero Killer… Stendhal… I will finish my statement. You seek to address the wrong side of the problem. Society is the one that creates both Heroes and Villains. And you're digging yourself an even deeper grave just by acting."

"What's your point? The fact that society is as it is currently with false heroes is the reason that Villains run as rampant as they do now. With no true Heroes besides All Might, the Villains will continue to spread like a disease. You cannot cure a disease with a single white blood cell, you need many to purge every single one of those diseased cells."

"Your stupid analogies aside, your utter hypocrisy will mean your downfall. True heroes? What a load of bad writing. Instead of living in those delusions you're so fond of, try to take a look for just one second at the real world."

"What are you babbling on about?"

"By killing those heroes, you're proving society's point. They won't care about your villainous motivations or your reasonings behind the killings. To them, you're just a villain. You're just a villain speaking out against society because you couldn't make it in the real world and went insane, no matter what really happened. Society has brainwashed them into not thinking about this kind of politically sensitive topics where villains might be right! In the end, you're nothing but a murderer putting on a show for the media."

The boy took a deep breath. One of the humanoids floating behind him patted him on the back.

"Also, the numbers, you fool! Look at the numbers! Crime rates have gone up so badly in this area that street sweepers are having a hard time cleaning these streets! What, you killed like twenty five heroes? Are you really going to be able to solve twenty five heroes' worth of crime by yourself? Not to mention the fact that your actions have actually inspired more copycats to go and attack the heroes and commit crimes."

"I'll do a better job than those fakes!"

"Well, the situations speak for themselves! I tripped on the trash and broke my can of coffee because of it! People are suffering because some local scumbags took your words as a rallying cry and started to go rob people! If you left those bad excuses for heroes alive, life would at least function as well as it had before you started to act. Society cannot handle your supposedly perfect vision of an idea hero society simply because it can't afford to go through with the change."

"And what of it? If I work towards a brighter future, I do not care what is sacrificed! And should those fakes not die for their crimes?" Stain snarled, his arms flailing and grasping for the infuriating child in front of him. "Advertisements. Movies. All time wasted when they could be working for a-"

"But would that solve the problem?" the boy said, looking downwards at Stain's crushed figure. The thumb was still pressing him hard into the streets, but Stain did not reach for his blade. Awkward position or not, uncomfortable argument or not, he still had to hear the boy to the end.

"Like it or not, whether or not they're using their fame for purposes that you don't approve of, these heroes stop some crimes and are admired by society. And because of this, and your senseless actions, more and more of these… mercenary, fame-farming heroes are going to crop up! You've turned them into martyrs! Every single one you kill is a call for action against you! Besides, If you've graduated high school, which you probably haven't, you would have heard of this. Supply and demand! The less heroes there are, the more that will try to work and take their place!"

"And how would I reduce evil? How can I stop the creation of these false heroes?" Stain yelled desperately. The answer he sought was so close, and it resided in this young looking teenager… of all people.

"But nooo…" Hans continued, ignoring Stain's pleas. "You have to subscribe to terrible internet theories about fake heroes and how there needs to be more genuinity in this industry. Does it really even matter what you're doing when all that you've done is made things worse? Just do the right thing for once! Start a soup kitchen or something! Just do something useful with your hypocritical, insignificant life and throw away that dumpster fire of an argument that you have."

With that, the boy walked away, and Stain just… stood there.

What had he achieved with his actions?

What had he done?

Was what he was doing… totally wrong to begin with?

"Damn UA… accepting my terrible test results…" the boy muttered while walking away. "And my coffee is ruined too… This grocery run was a failure."

One of the creatures following the boy giggled.

"Oh, shut up, you." The deep voice said, though not in a completely annoyed manner. "Perhaps it was the work of fate that I would encounter that unbearable hypocrite."

As the sounds of the light pattering of footsteps faded away, Stain continued to think. Think like never before. Though the child's arguments were rather disorganized, they did make a point.

Try as he would, society didn't listen to Stain. Listening to ordinary civilians discuss his ideals in public did tell him that they thought he was insane, but he didn't take it seriously. He had thought that they were completely brainwashed by the propaganda of the false heroes.

But the fact was that nobody was listening to him. Nobody took him seriously. Only other villains, but they did use him as an excuse to commit more violence.

And thus, Stain was lost. He was left with a lot of questions

But… What did that kid say about himself? Just do the right thing… UA application…

That kid was in UA?

"Whoever you are… blue haired child… you hold the vision and the conviction to change this corrupt society. You may be strong, but you do not yet have the power to root out the evils of society from its roots."

"My arguments may be wrong. My solution may be wrong. But of one thing I am certain…"

Stain's eyes flashed red, and despite his injuries, his figure stood even taller and prouder.

"I shall continue on this doomed path of mine to pave the way for yours… "

Stain walked away into the night. He would potentially become just Stendhal again. A vigilante, trying to make the neighborhood safer. And if he came across a corrupt hero? Well, he would be just like the other criminal scum.

But more words would need to be exchanged. Though the child had outlined problems with Stain's ideals, there was no proposed answer.

There was one final test for the child, however. If this child truly wanted to bring change to society, Stain would have to ask him…

What was his idea of a hero?

…

Hans sneezed.

"Why do I have the feeling that somebody just misinterpreted what I said in a horrible, life-changing way?"

The little match girl patted his shoulder.

…

AN

That was a thing. Please send help. Hopefully, you enjoyed this chapter of almost nothing but dialogue. Man, this was exhausting to write. But it was fun to be able to write a coherent roast. My discord peeps had to help me a bit here tho.

Thanks for reading, and remember to follow/favorite! It would really make my day!

Also, 77 reviews for the first chapter? WTF? That's insane you guys! Just had to say that again.

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

I'm back, and right after publishing a chapter of another fic. We finally hit 200k views and 2k follows on that, so I'm still super stoked about it. In Spirit (heh) of that, I wrote this chapter out over a span of two days! It's still edited and all that, so don't worry about quality :P

Anyways, enjoy reading!

-SpiritOfErebus

Minoru Mineta looked at the results of the hero test on the screen. He was thirty sixth, and he should be admitted! His dreams of being a hero and finally getting laid should be on track!

…But why did the holographic disc say that he had failed?

He looked up UA's website, before going through the several tabs, skipping the great brochures about what the programs at UA offered, and the various good things they had done for society, and headed straight for the admissions page.

On top of the scores on the Hero Test, there was a rather moderately sized orange box. Mineta's eyes narrowed as he read, hands tightening around his Mt. Lady figurine.

"Due to a modified recommended exam, this year, UA will be taking five reccomended students instead of four."

Mineta's knuckles grew white. The figure in his hands bent ominously.

"My spot was stolen by a fucking elitist!" he shouted, slamming a fist down. The pedestal of the figurine impacted his desk and snapped off, ricocheting off the artificial wood and making a dent in the drywall.

After gently putting down what remained of Mt. Lady, Mineta staggered to his bed and collapsed, face down on his pillow.

Now he could never be a cool hero! He was stuck in general education! He couldn't show his stuff at the Sports Festival and maybe get a hot babe to go out with him!

"Wait a minute… The Sports Festival…" He sat up, eyes narrowed. Turning back to his computer, he looked up the rules for General Education promotion. If he managed to beat out that elitist bastard admitted on special conditions… Then he would be able to replace them!

"I'm coming for you, whoever you are!" Mineta shouted, turning his attention back to the website. He went to the tab that showcased the resume of the Recommended students.

"Todoroki Shoto… Son of Endeavor… Probably not him."

"Hans Christian Anderson… Saved pro hero Iceblade's life…"

"Setsuna Tokage… Splitting quirk? Weird."

"Juzo Honenuki… Looks intimidating…"

"Yaoyorozu Momo… "

"Wait… that Yaoyorozu?" Mineta said, thinking back to the various products his mother used with that name on it. Typing up yet another name on his search bar, the name of a fortune 500 company came up.

He had spotted the elitist who took his spot. The tall girl whose smile was frozen within the picture of her profile on the UA website.

"Normally, since you look pretty hot, I'll give you a pass…" Mintea growled, his right hand now tightening over his Midnight figure. "However, you've blocked my path to my master plan! And for that…"

His eyes gleamed, filled with a foreign passion previously unknown to him. Despite being envious of several people and their riajuu status, he had never truly felt… spiteful.

"I'm going to surpass you!"

…

"While it is unknown why this has occurred, in the past four months, the Hero killer has gotten progressively more active. Instead of targeting heroes, it has become more of an indiscriminate assault, along with much less of a showy aspect or his usual rhetoric of fake and real heroes. And as the Hero Killer Stain murders yet another hero, Suzuki, I think that we've entered another era of his M.O."

"Thank you for your time. We have been speaking Ito Sanazuki, crime analyst, thank you for your time."

"Thank you for having me."

Hans munched into his bowl of cereal. Beside him, the little match girl waved her spirit hands through the colorful marshmallows and the dull, slightly crusty corn flakes, unable to pick it up.

"Give it up already." the snow queen said, watching the exchange with a look of abject boredom. "You try to do this everyday. We're cursed by the things that killed us. I can't hold a conversation with any toddlers, because somehow crying kids made me disappear. You can't pick up food because you, well…"

"And what of me?" Hans said, looking up at the figure. "I died of liver-"

"You're different from us."

"I am and was a real person, yes."

"Stop having philosophical debates with your summons and eat your breakfast, Hans." his mother snapped, before her tone softened. "Do you have your uniform on yet?"

"Regretfully, yes." Hans said, looking down at the weirdly elaborate UA school uniforms. What were the green collars supposed to do, establish them as part of the main cast? It was, if anything, lazy storytelling.

"Anyways, you'll be going to a hero course. You have to watch out. Don't stress your quirk too much. If you need to leave your summons at home to stop your headache, then do it. I'll take Hestia to work if she bothers you too much." Anne said, picking up the spirit that was desperately trying to get at the marshmallows.

"She doesn't have a name, mom." Hans said. "Your supposed 'Hestia' was a girl that-"

"I don't want to hear her gloomy backstory ever again." she said, sighing and tustling the little girl's hair. "I swear, why did your namesake write such gloomy stories?"

"Yeah…" Hans said, looking at the unopened envelopes of unpaid bills. "I wonder why."

Rent, treatment for his grandfather's liver cancer (which did not bode well for Hans's own future due to genetic inheritance), electricity, water, food, and the hefty tuition to UA, albeit supplemented by a scholarship due to his healing quirk.

"I could drop out of UA, you know, mom." Hans said, looking back at his mother, who was already in the middle of a work-related email. "If it really costs too much, we can-"

"Du kan gøre meget godt i denne verden, Hans." his mother said, suddenly blurting out the sentence in Danish. ("You can do a lot of good in this world, Hans.")

"Desuden betaler Helte mere i Japan end I Danmark. Jeg er dog ked af at vi flyttede herover i det hele taget." Anne said, sighing. ("Besides, Heroes pay more in Japan than in Denmark. I'm sorry about moving us here in the first place, though." )

"Jeg skriver bare nogle flere bøger." Hans said, ("I can just write more books.")

His mind flashed back to the mother of his previous life, who had been impoverished for all of her life.

"Jeg setter tilskrivningsfrister for migselv. Jeg sælger bøger så at dig og far kan leve et godt liv." ("I'll set deadlines for myself. I'll sell enough books to make sure you and dad can live a nice life.")

"You're still in school. Don't think about work just yet." Anne said, returning to slightly awkward Japanese, rustling Hans's blue hair. She then turned, tone now slightly hesitant.

"But if you could, well… Your grandfather isn't doing very well. If we could just get enough for…"

"Yeah, yeah." Hans said dully. "I'll look into it. But I suppose that with the workload of the Hero course, that wouldn't really be an option, would it?"

One by one, his spirits returned to his head. The little match girl made one last grab at the cereal. The ice queen dissolved with a quiet sigh. The elder tree mother shrank back into her pot, before the pot itself disappeared. His mind filled up with the cacophony of the fairytales interacting with each other in boredom, along with several attempts at backseat driving.

"Let's take the train this time." the snow queen grumbled.

"No, no! Let's walk! I really want to stretch my legs" the tree said.

"You have no legs to stretch! Did you forget about the admissions test already?"

Hans sighed and headed for the bus.

…

Surprisingly, Hans was the earliest to arrive at the classroom. After slipping under the main flow of the crowd with his relatively short stature, his creations managed to scout out the classroom relatively quickly.

Hans looked at the door handle. The door handle stared back.

"Am I really going to be studying to be a hero?" he muttered, outstretched hand now paused in midair. It honestly felt a little redundant. Even if he hadn't done much other than write and drink coffee at Chaldea, at least he sort of participated in the singularities.

"It's exciting, isn't it?" somebody shouted from right behind him. Hans nearly tripped into the door handle.

After narrowly avoiding losing an eye, he looked back to see a person smiling enthusiastically. The person then proceeded to slam two blocky fists together, making the sound of wood hitting wood.

"Is that supposed to intimidate me or something?" Hans thought, further appraising the figure.

They were taller than Hans, though that wasn't very hard to achieve. In fact, if there was one person that was shorter than him in the Hero course, Hans would be eating his shoes in disbelief. Their hair was also freshly dyed red, though to be perfectly honest, Hans wouldn't really know that it was hair dye if it wasn't for the splotches of red on the boy's fingers.

And in this shounen manga-like world, they probably were not the protagonist.

"After all of our hard work, we can finally work to become heroes!"

"Ah, yes." Hans said sarcastically. "We're working so we can work in a class of underpaid prestige, in which, once we become obsolete or crippled, will be replaced almost instantly."

There was a brief moment of silence, before Hans pushed open the doors to the classroom and reached upwards for the light switch with a low grunt of effort.

"Different tuition numbers. Still the same desks and chairs. Why did my parents even bother…" Hans muttered.

"That's… that's not very manly of you." the teenager stuttered, his confident personal clearly unsure as to how to act. "You're at UA! You get to be a hero like you've always dreamed you could be! Where's your sense of wonder?"

"I've already been one." Hans wanted to say. "And I got paid nothing."

"I'm not the one that's going to be a hero here." Hans said, gesturing to his twig-like arms. "I'm here to heal you guys so you can keep being my meat shields."

"A healing quirk, huh? That's pretty manly! My name's Kirishima, by the way. And you?"

"Hans Christian Anderson." Hans said, hoisting himself onto a chair and staring glumly at the whiteboard.

"You from Germany?"

"Denmark." Hans said, his expression souring a tad bit.

"My quirk is hardening, if you haven't noticed! And if you can just keep healing me as I go in and take the hits, man, we could make a pretty manly duo!" Kirishima pumped his fist up at the word 'manly' like it was some sort of mental trigger.

Hans looked at the overenthusiastic redhead and sighed inwardly. Then, he actually sighed because he had no obligations to keep Kirishima happy.

"What's wrong dude?" Kirishima asked, "Does that… not sound like a manly idea?"

"If you can find one person less 'manly' than me, then please go ahead and do so." Hans said, smiling sarcastically. "I would like to shake their hand."

Kirishima's frown deepened, and Mineta sneezed in the 1-C classrooms.

Hans, in the meanwhile, got the Elder Tree Mother out of his mind and manifested her as a potted plant, putting it in the corner closest to a window.

…

The conversation continued on for several minutes, during which new members of the class entered the room, looked at the two, and sat around the two currently in an "intense" debate. At the later stages, it had just turned into a psychoanalysis.

"Your cheerful persona is a positive outlook to have." Hans said, staring into Kirishima's dark eyes. "However, you still do not truly believe that you can live up to your own standards. You regretted something in the past, and now you're trying to atone for a self perceived fault."

"Hey, I don't know what you're talking about!" Kirishima tried to deflect the statement, looking to the side and rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're vehemently trying to deny it, because that period of self doubt must have had a huge impact on you. Because you found your role model or something." Hans said, noticing the dye on Kirishima's hands once more. "Thus, you dyed your hair to emulate your role model and-"

"H-how do you know this?"

"I notice things." Hans said, turning to look at the clock. "It's what I do."

As Kirishima contemplated his existence, somebody else walked into the room.

"Hello there, everybody! I hope we can get along this y-"

Yaoyorozu noticed Hans, and went silent.

"Well?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow. "You look like you haven't changed at all."

"It's even harder to change a community." Yaoyorozu said. "Pro Heroes usually stop two thousand five hundred and eighty one crime cases a year on average, and even if I sold my whole mansion, the impact that it would have on the part of the population that is desperate enough to commit crimes would be negligible."

"To be perfectly honest, I don't know the first thing about helping a community." Hans said, smiling. "I was just annoyed when you said that those giant robots wouldn't cost much. Also… UA can literally make empty cities. If that isn't a significant difference, then I don't know what is."

"Those robots create much more benefits than they cost!" Yaoyorozu argued. "They are used for training the next generation of heroes, who stop two thousand and-"

"Yeah, yeah. We get it. They stop crimes. But UA has multiple fake cities and buildings on site with working electricity. I'd think that these resources could be better utilized elsewhere. But, of course, they have to take away taxpayer money in order to create a market for heroes, and to create a market for heroes…"

The room went silent.

"Truly. A mad banquet of darkness." a bird headed student said. "Perhaps the true shadow of humanity lies not in its villains, but in its leaders."

"Exactly." Hans said, looking at said student with a hint of amusement on his face. "Do I get a raven as a classmate? What's next, an ugly duckling? Was this class going to turn into a gathering of his fairytales?"

"You understand the world as I do." the bird-headed student said, without a hint of surprise in his voice.

"I do, but I'm not so over dramatic about everything." Hans said, looking back at Yaoyorozu, whose brain still hadn't rebooted. "Nice to meet you, by the way."

"I'm Tokoyami. Fumikage. Nice to meet y-."

"Oh, my god! Will you people just shut the fuck up!"

Everybody turned to see a spiky haired blonde teenager slam their palm onto the desk and scream like there was no tomorrow. Hans nearly fell from his chair, before looking up to see…

It was…

"What the fuck are you looking at, extra?" Bakugo Katsuki said, gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes at Hans. "Stop bitching about what Heroes should be and be quiet like an extra should be."

This person was so…

"You keep talking about giving villains shit, by the way. That isn't going to work. As long as you crush them, they won't do their shit again. Which means that we should just do our fucking jobs as UA students!"

Filled with so many character defects!

The aggression, the mean-spiritedness, the superiority complex, along with the very obvious surface level issues of 'main character syndrome'.

There were so many targets. So many potential insults. It was like finding a document filled with thousands of words the hour before a deadline was to ask for said manuscripts.

"Hey… Hey!" the teenager said, slowly walking up to Hans, who finally focused his eyes back on the angry teenager.

"What were you looking at… you extra?" Several menacing explosions were set off right in front of Hans's face, making the unremovable burns all over his body pulse. Hans, however, just stared back into his eyes.

"I was looking at your various complexes."

"What did you say you little shit?"

"How dare you speak to a classmate like that?" a tall boy said, finally intervening in the various loud arguments. As the two introduced themselves and proceeded to argue about school conduct, Hans settled back and began to ruminate over what issue to address first when talking to the now named Bakugo Katsuki.

That wonderful train of thought was interrupted by yet another new arrival. A green-haired boy wearing red shoes.

Red… shoes.

Hans could already see the footless, crawling ghost out of a horror movie that was the manifestation of the girl that was the main character of The Red Shoes enacting her vengeance on the piece of attire. Mentally repressing the normally dormant spirit, Hans settled in to watch yet… another shouting tournament.

"This really is a shounen world." Hans muttered. "Terrible worldbuilding and weak character interaction."

A certain student with two-toned hair, and another one with earphone jacks definitely heard that.

"Speaking of which, why did I get put behind the tall girl?" Hans said, slightly irritated. "It's almost like they assigned these seats via random chance and didn't consider anything other than student number. Where does this school even put their budget?"

At the word budget, Yaoyorozu twitched.

"I swear." Yaoyorozu said, turning around. Her normally smiling face was strained into a neutral expression. "You were sent here by the gods just to torment me."

"We were all born with a purpose." Hans said, replying to a remark that was supposed to get him to stop talking. "Mine is to irritate as many people as possible."

Just then, his abysmal rank of territory creation informed him of something large and… yellow outside the door, right behind the boy wearing red shoes and a girl that was enthusiastically mimicking punches.

"Can you look outside the door, by the way?" Hans said, slightly nervously. "I think some sort of worm thing just slid outside our door. Normally, I'd assume that this is a villian, but since this is UA, the budget-"

"Oh, all right!" Yaoyorozu said, swerving around and leaning out to see the doorway. "See, there's noth- oh my god. There's actually a yellow caterpillar outside the doorway."

"It took you that long to notice me." a deep, tired voice said. There was the sound of a zipper, before out of the yellow cocoon emerged a tired and dark butterfly. The man slouched into the room, walking past the shell-shocked students that were standing in the doorway.

"This is the hero course. You all will have to be more alert." the hobo said, leaning on the teacher's desk and muttering out an extremely charismatic speech.

"You were only there for about ten seconds, and you were literally lying on the ground. How do you expect people to see you?" Hans thought. "Why must this school be filled with overdramatic edgelords?"

"Anyways, change into your gym uniform and head to the track fields. We're doing a quirk assessment test today."

Hans sighed. Why was it always tests with these schools? Dragging his feet behind his taller and more athletic classmates, he took one last look at the potted plant he had put in the corner of the room. Despite talking about attentiveness as a hero, their teacher did not live up to their own words and hadn't noticed the non-classroom standard potted plant.

"Hypocrites, hypocrites. Why can I spot you everywhere I look?" Hans took a last look back through the now-empty classroom. "Alle de kvajpander bliver min anden død." ("All these idiots will be the cause of my second death.")

…

"Director. The next set is ready."

"Alright." a sensual voice said, grinning at the peon. "Take me there…"

"Ye-yeah." The stage manager gulped, looking at the voluptuous woman wanting to act in the remake of The Little Mermaid herself as director. He had to say, she fit the role perfectly.

"Miss Sessyoin. I'm so glad to work with you." another actor said, walking up and shaking her hand. Kiara could tell, however, that his gaze was not on her eyes.

"Likewise." she said, her voice deep and mature. Several of the workers on set began to stare. Again, she didn't mind. She was an incarnation of humanity's lust, after all.

"Director. You must, once more, consider your costume choices." the costume designer said. "Again, this is a K-rated movie, and since it isn't in the animated medium…"

"Alright, alright." Kiara said, looking at the subordinate who dared to defy her. "I guess we'll put production on hold today. We'll run the costumes through the sewing machines again."

"Thank you for your understanding, ma'am." The young woman walked away, muttering about adjustments and modifications already.

"Bodhisattva, what should we do with her?" her drivers said, as they drove out of Disney's studios. They were wonderful servants, brainwashed and joining her cult.

"Get her fired." Kiara said. "Use whatever means necessary."

"I hope you enjoy what I'm doing to your fairytales… Hans…" Licking her lips, she imagined the infuriated look on the parents who would inevitably take their children to watch a new, more… salacious remake of The Little Mermaid.

For some reason, she had been reborn into this new and interesting world. Though the humans were different, their minds were still the same. So easily malleable.

And her plot… had just begun. Looking at a little soldier standing on the hood of her car as an ornament, she thought about her next target.

The Steadfast Tin Soldier… now how could such a stoic tale be corrupted?

Hans's fairtyales could only belong to her. Twisting the tales in the mind of the public wouldn't be enough to keep her as the sole reader, but changing their real meaning and keeping the core of the story to herself gave her some satisfaction.

She had wanted to become the little mermaid, the pinnacle of his masterpiece. It pained her heart to twist the childish yet pessimistic tale into something tainted by her impure desires.

Still, if Hans truly was in this world, then this would undoubtedly be the best way to get his attention.

"Now… About that statue of Hans…"

"We'll steal it." the driver said immediately, "My lady… We'll do anything for you. But, is there any reason we need to risk fellow believers to steal a statue?"

"That man is very, very important to me." Kiara sighed dreamily.

"Of course." the driver said, knuckles white against the driver's wheel. The jealousy in his body language was as obvious as could be, yet Kiara paid no attention.

…

On the way to UA's athletics field, Hans felt a wave of goosebumps pass over his body. It was almost like somebody walked on his grave, or was stabbing a doll of him with pins… or something.

AN: In actual history, the head of the statue of Hans Christian Anderson was actually stolen from the statue. As in, literally cut off. I wonder who did it…

Hopefully, you enjoyed this chapter! It's not action heavy at all, like my other fics, but then again, it doesn't need to be. It's just Hans in the BNHA universe. Nothing more, and nothing less. The plan for future chapters is already underway

Also, wondering about the splotches of danish? Well, with our resident Danish boi RumIe5 on the discord server, I could actually put danish on this without using google translate! Big props to this gigachad, along with the server's other editors/readers/roasters.

Please follow/favorite/review/roast this fic in memory of Hans's peaceful life. His hero school journey has only just begun :P

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

After crawling out of an economics course, I bring you… this chapter!

Hope you enjoy!

-SpiritOfErebus

Honestly, Hans should've known better than to hope for anything but races in UA's curriculum. First, there was the recommendation exam. Now? There was this… obvious track field that he was standing in.

He looked down at his uniform. His legs were a gigantic, walking 'A' that was dwarfed by the other uniforms cleverly showing the letters 'U' and 'A' in an effort to promote school spirit.

"These uniforms are… kind of ugly." he muttered, looking down at the logo. "It's like I'm a walking billboard. Did they seriously just make us wear the school name?"

"What do you mean school name?" Kaminari said, raising an eyebrow at Hans. Then, he looked down at his own uniform.

"Oh. UA. I get it now."

"Stop fawning over your uniforms and get on with our exercise." Aizawa droned on, "This is the hero course."

"Yes. We know. We all found the classroom." Hans said dryly, looking at the irritatingly apathetic teacher. The cold glare that Aizawa had was making Hans slightly jealous, to be perfectly honest.

But it wasn't a totally cold glare. In his eyes were still a tiny hint of fear. There was a tiny hint of joy, too, along with a hint of sadness.

Hans narrowed his eyes, then smirked. He had almost gotten down Aizawa's backstory.

"Do you think that your attitude is really fitting for the hero course?" Aizawa said. "As sidekicks and in the hero industry, you will have to follow those superior to you in order to better assist in arrests. It's irrational to-"

At this point, Hans had toned out the conversation. As Aizawa rambled on about whatever irrationality this… pro hero was talking about… He realized one thing.

Aizawa was only being this harsh to scare people off of the hero track. There were very little second year UA students because of said scare tactic. The vague statements about practicality and the rush for preparation meant that because of his own lack of strength or preparation, it had cost Aizawa something.

As Bakugo threw the ball with a violent exclamation, Hans looked at the "impressive" score of seven hundred meters in "shock".

While he couldn't do that even as a servant, even the Phantom of the Opera could do something more impressive. That something was nothing related to physical ability (and, instead, was the ability to charm a female servant with a mismatched deck and 2 star servant stats), but still…

The resulting jubilation about finally being able to cut loose, however, made Hans a little more concerned, though he wasn't that afraid of it. In many a times of him initially going onto the streets and roasting those who stood above him (literally), he had been faced with several violent threats by either surly heteromorphs or egomaniacs with slightly more impressive quirks.

Them going "all out" wasn't exactly terrifying or particularly dangerous, in comparison to all the mobs he fought in Chaldea.

"The person that places last on this exam… Would be expelled."

Oh, great. And he had just paid the tuition to this school, too. Hans sighed. Why did hypocrites have to follow him everywhere he went?

Thus, as they all gathered in order to participate in- you guessed it- a short distance sprint, Hans looked at all the other hero students giving it their all, looked up at the sweltering sun, and sighed.

The mock gun fired.

As Tokoyami, the person who sat besides Hans, ran for it without using his sentient quirk, Hans decided to walk deliberately slowly across the track.

The whole class stared nervously at the diminutive child casually stroll across the tracks that they had so fervently ran across.

"Student number seventeen." Aizawa said, glaring at Hans. "What was that?"

"I was completing the test." Hans said, looking at Aizawa, still standing in the middle of the track.

"You think this is a joke, you little shit?" Bakugo roared, his hands crackling like firecrackers. As other students backed away, Hans sat down and looked straight at Bakugo.

"I'm last in this test anyways." Hans said, smirking. "Also, rationally…"

Aizawa glared at Hans, who stared back into Aizawa's silently fuming eyes before returning to his rant.

"...If I'm already going to be placed last on this test, why would I still try to waste my effort on this dash?"

"It's fifty fucking meters. If your weak ass can't run fifty fucking meters, then you might as well get out, extra."

"There you go again. Flaunting your physical and genetic superiority over us hereditary peasants." Hans said. "If you weren't born with that fancy explosion quirk, where would you be now?"

"Much better than your useless ass, even with your two-bit quirk." Bakugo said, scoffing. "Now stop fucking wasting time and move on!"

"Why should I?"

"Anderson. Move on with the race, or you're expelled." Aizawa said. The class immediately began to murmur once more.

"Fine, fine." Hans said. "Damn races… You all don't have any patience at all, do you?"

As Hans finally walked past the finish line, the little timer chirped out his score. "Sixty two seconds."

"Was I the slowest examinee in history for this test?" Hans said, turning around to ask Aizawa, who just ignored him. "Fine, then. Don't answer."

…

Next, was the grip strength test.

Hans looked at Thumbelina's gigantic hand, which could not get a good grip on the narrow bar.

"Well, this was an oversight." He said, sighing.

The machine was promptly crushed, with Thumbelina bending the bar in half.

"Damn problem child…" Aizawa muttered.

"Didn't you just go on a tirade about why hero school resources should be conserved?" Yaoyorozu said, twisting the vice in her grip to better clamp down on the bar.

"Didn't you just mention how cheap this equipment was?" Hans said in response.

Yaoyorozu staggered like she was hurt physically.

"That's right." she said, her voice hollow. "I did say that."

…

Hans slid over an ice covering of the sand pit. The Ice queen drew some eyeballs and raised brows as she popped out of Hans's mind and froze the pit absentmindedly.

Aizawa looked at the frozen ice pit, eyebrows twitching..

"Can anybody defrost this?"

Todoroki looked at the pit of ice, then at his left side, and said nothing.

…

Hans firmly stood in place during the repeated side steps.

"Score: Zero!" a camera chirped cheerfully.

"Anderson, stop being irrational." Aizawa growled. "This is a test meant to bring out your best, and to establish parameters for your training as a H-"

Anderson stepped once to the left, then once to the right.

Aizawa sighed and tallied down a one on his scoresheet.

…

Dark Shadow hurled the ball forwards, the long, whiplike bird creature sending the sphere far into the distance. Hans had to adjust his slightly sweaty glasses to see where the ball landed.

"Two hundred and fifty meters!" the annoying scorekeeper robot said.

"Alright, Hans. You're up."

Hans walked into the chalk circle. He looked up at the cloud passing the sun. Shade cascaded down from the heavens as sunlight retreated, leaving a bit of coldness in its wake.

Hans decided that… It was a good time for a nap. After all, they had stood in the sun for about five minutes, waiting for Uraraka's ball to come down from her score of infinity, so they could afford to wait for this cloud to float by.

Looking at the baseball, Hans sighed, put down the ball, and withdrew… another fairytale from his head. In his outstretched palms were several ducklings. They quacked and bickered with each other upon their summoning, some pecking their neighbors while others screeched loudly. Amongst them was a very, very ugly duckling. It was a pale gray, and its feathers were rather wrinkled.

Hans cleared his throat to address the baby animals, and they all ceased their random activities to stare their beady little eyes into Hans's eyes.

Hans placed the ducklings on the ground. The slightly larger-than-normal ducks looked at Hans, and then the ball.

"Carry this as far as you can go."

The ducks collectively nodded as many in the crowd of students looked at the animals with a confused expression on their face.

The slightly less uglier ducklings pushed the ball onto the pale gray duckling's back, before the group of animals began to waddle forwards slowly. The rather heavy ball was taking a toll on the creatures, but they were growing larger by the second.

As Hans lay down on the dirt and watched his small army of animals waddle forth, he thought that there might be a quirk introducing blurb playing if this were a shounen anime.

…'

Aizawa tapped his foot and looked at the small child that was peacefully sleeping in the shade of a rather long cloud passing overhead. His hero class had all sat down, and began to converse with one another. One slightly turtle-like student had even called over some birds and was chirping quietly to them.

Bakugo, however, stood and glared at the blue haired child, while the other problem child in his class, Midoriya, was still a nervous wreck, pacing and muttering about his results.

The blue-haired child sat at a rather below average sixteen out of twenty on the placements, but this test was about to raise that score. Aizawa looked at the slowly rising numbers as the ducks (why did it have to be ducks, of all things?) waddled forwards to the other end of the field.

Yawning underneath his bandages, Aizawa considered sitting down as well, but decided against it. He still had his image as a teacher to maintain.

Aizawa, instead, decided to try to analyze the student that was Hans Christian Anderson, an incredibly cynical student with an ironic quirk that didn't coincide with his personality at all: one about fairy tales.

That was, possibly, a summon of the Ugly Duckling that carried the ball away. Not to mention the other summons from before.

Was this some sort of allegory? Some sort of statement that he was trying to make? Why were the summons only from fairy tales?

For a moment, Aizawa pondered this fact. He had seen the gigantic hand that appeared during the grip strength test, and had seen its power. Why would Anderson summon such a mundane group of ducks instead of a… more efficient method? He knew that Anderson was anything but irrational, holding the most realistic view of heroism out of the whole class.

…Was he trying to make a statement?

His mind shot back to Shirakumo, and his constant regrets about his own inability to jump in and do something about that gigantic villain. If only he had acted earlier…

But Shirakumo is dead now. And it was all because of his incompetence.

But this kid. Had the audacity… to suggest that they could relax in the hero course?

Does he want to die? Like all the others?

Aizawa's stalwart expression did not falter, but his emotions were twisting like a raging storm.

…

Hans opened his eyes, noting with slight irritation the sweat that was slowly sliding down his forehead. After a bit of deliberation between getting up or continuing to pretend to sleep just to irritate wannabe heroes, he got up.

It wouldn't do to antagonize everybody.

He yawned and ruffled his hair, surveying the class. One blonde looked seething mad. Another one was smiling like he had told a good joke. Tokoyami was brooding cheerfully, while Yaoyorozu was still glaring at him, her eyes telling him that she was no doubt thinking about some sort of socioeconomic theory to continue to argue with him.

Looking at Yaoyorozu and Bakugo, he gave a smug smirk. The best he could manage. Predictably, it pissed them off. Then, he turned to the teacher.

"What was my score?"

"...Still undetermined." Aizawa muttered blandly, though with a flatness born of habit, not of boredom. "How long can your ducks exist for?"

"Theoretically?"

"Yes."

"About fifteen years, which is the average lifespan for a duck. Then, they'll create the next generation and the ball will continue to be carried forward.

"...So does your quirk just create ducks?" the green haired kid constantly having a panic attack asked.

"They're still fake ducks. They just act like real ducks."

"Then what's the difference? Can you still feel them draining your energy? How do your summons work, by the way? Is there a quota?"

Hans felt a bit of irritation well up inside him. Did the kid have any social awareness? Hans was well aware that he just pissed off half the class, but to be perfectly honest, he was well aware of the consequences of doing so.

That kid just didn't have a filter.

Somebody, though, did the yelling for him.

"Shut the fuck up, Deku!"

…That gratitude was immediately erased when he realized that it was Bakugo who shouted that.

"Bakugo, back off. Midoriya, it's your turn to throw the ball."

The perfectly normal kid walked up to the ballpit… and threw the ball normally. Hans raised an eyebrow. He felt like he was missing a narratively important moment, and it did not stick well with him as an author.

"But my quirk… I was using it."

"You fucking idiots! Deku doesn't have a quirk! He must have cheated in the entrance exam, because there's no way he actually got in." Bakugo said, crossing his arms and smirking.

"Are you not aware of what he accomplished in the entrance exam?"

As Aizawa mumbled to Midoriya, Hans came to a sinking realization.

Non-standard hair color…

The boy looked at the distance with a steely expression…

Almost unrelenting determination…

Then, Midoriya wound back his arm, twisted his body… and threw. A sonic boom emanated throughout the track field, blowing Hans back into the examinee behind him. Regaining his footing after a hand helped him up, he collapsed to his knees.

"And uncontrollable power at the start of the series." Hans mumbled out loud.

Oh fuck. Hans really was in a shounen anime. And the protagonist was useless.

Hans foresaw a couple of power buffs to the protagonist in the future. Still, as a side character in this newly established shounen genre, he faced an even greater challenge:

Surviving.

…

At the finish line of the long distance run, Bakugo looked back at the pathetic extras still struggling to finish the race.

He wasn't alone at the finish line, though.

Ponytail had pulled a fucking scooter out of her stomach and finished the race before him, and Four-Eyes had a shitty speed quirk. Bakugo looked down at his slightly shaking hands, tired from making all the explosions to change directions rapidly in the curved track. Despite what excuses he could make in his mind, he was still pissed off.

Meanwhile, he looked at that blue haired little shit that was walking down the race track… and paused.

That little shit HAD made it past a hero test. It was probably his weird fucking quirk about storybook characters or some shit that let him pass, but…

"If you weren't born with that fancy explosion quirk, where would you be now?"

Instead of being given a stupid ass weak body like that blue haired kid, Bakugo had always been stronger and faster than the other kids. His bones were even tougher, and his skin was more resistant to fire.

(What if he was like Deku… and didn't get his quirk at four? Would he still be here? What if Deku got his explosion quirk instead? Would he be more useful?)

That kid, though… Bakugo narrowed his eyes, and looked. Even though there was no fire in this test, the kid's arms were patched with angry red spots that were probably burns. He had seen a lot of those in his… very misguided youth.

"What the fuck…" Bakugo muttered. "Is wrong with this kid?"

Across different dimensions and even inside a computer, several nuns, summoners, and storybook incarnates simultaneously sneezed.

…

Hans ended up thirteenth in the rankings. Even if he was dead last in a couple of tests, he did manage to get optimal results in most of the other tests. Ball throw? Infinite. Grip strength? Machine was destroyed. Long jump? He walked past the sand pit. Seated toe touch and situps were pretty easy as well, with many of his humanoid summons assisting him.

Sadly, however, there was still the matter of expulsions. Midoriya quivered in his boots at his last place result, but Hans knew that they probably weren't going to expel the protagonist.

"Nobody will be expelled." Aizawa said dully. "It was a rational deception to draw out the upper limits of your quirks."

Hans smirked at the expressions of his classmates and Yaoyorozu's self assured expression. If only they knew that there were only ten second year students that remained in Aizawa's class last year.

Hans began to walk off of the accursed track fields. His legs were sore from walking the whole length of the long distance run, and he regretted his choices made in petty spite.

This whole world was hypocritical, including him. Why didn't he just lie down and get expelled, if he was so against the system of heroics?

Sadly, he already knew the answer. Because his own pettiness just couldn't resist.

…

A week ago…

…

Walking out onto the rooftop of his apartment complex in a loose ensemble of red and black gear, all the while carrying a large, black bow, weird sword-like arrows, and two curved swords, Spinner grinned. Overall, he looked like an anime cosplayer reject.

It had only been a week since he had been recommended the Fate series. And ever since he had been told to read the story from a 4chan message chain arguing about Stain's ideals, he had never put down the computer until he finished it.

"A true hero saves everybody…" Spinner said, smiling. "Even the villains… Hans Christian Anderson, honored author, you are truly wise. You have opened my eyes to a new tru-"

Then, out of nowhere, a movie poster attacked him. The last thing he saw was a demonic drawing of the little mermaid pouncing on him, opening its jaws within the picture frame, and putting down on his face.

That night, Spinner nursed several bite marks on his reptilian skin. Going out to do a true hero's work would have to wait a couple of hours.

Inside a plastic bag, the demonic movie poster thrashed.

AN: That's the last side character, I promise… Totally…

For people confused about the movie poster demons, you can probably guess what they actually are.

This chapter was hard to write, mainly because of the canon cast finally existing… And writing so many different characters is giving me a headache lol.

I got castoria (in about 150 quartz)! And Skadi! And Caster Nero from a gssr! Thanks to soundsdead on the discord for rolling a gssr for me :P

Link to my own: discord . gg / s2uFUydRVd . You can go help edit chapters, kinda get early access for free, and just chat.

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

After quite a while, here you go. Between this chapter and last chapter lies a chapter of another fate crossover, twelve SAT (along with a couple of ACT's) practice tests, and a flight delayed for three hours until it was completely canceled.

Hope you enjoy this… thingy

-SpiritOfErebus

…

School was just as boring as he imagined. What actually was the problem was authorship.

One would think that writing a light novel inspired by Counter Guardian Emiya and his story with trying but failing to kill his younger self, then finally returning to shoot an ancient babylonian king in the head before death would find a suitable audience.

However, he encountered one of his greater enemies, never before known to him: Cancel culture.

Because of the themes of irrational heroism and "high schooler suddenly awakens power", after the first couple sets of books were sold, it was canceled by the media as a bad influence.

It was also another reason for why he thought so badly of this government, and why he kept on sprouting socioeconomic theories about why the government was making heroism into a profitable business.

Instead of draining society through crime, the government was draining society by wasting money on hero merch and creating artificial conflict between the powerful and the oppressed.

Hans wondered if there was a society out there that would fight for these supposedly oppressed people but actually just commit more crimes for a megacorporation to actually take over the world. Perhaps, using a stupid front like "liberating quirk usage to end villiany and prejudice" or something.

Anyways, back to the topic at hand.

The business of webnovels was difficult. It relied on daily updates, and people tend to donate more if you post daily, or even more than once daily. Either that or you needed to post chapters of such incredible length as to give actual novels a run for their money, though that was a lot less popular because when you stopped updating that quickly, you would lose attention.

Hans was not a speedy author, however. Most of his experiences extended to short stories, so even writing light novels pushed his capabilities.

Still, for money, he would persevere.

Even if he was paid 1,500 yen per thousand words, cancer treatment for one year cost about twenty million yen, which was nearly double his father's salary. Since both his parents worked the same job and pulled about twenty seven million yen every year, the cancer treatment would leave them with seven million yen.

Along with school bills of 1.5 million yen just for UA, rent, living costs, amongst other costs for ease of life(namely coffee)...

Hans was going to have to pay for UA on his own, at least. Still, the numbers were neat enough between the tuition cost and money paid per thousand words.

He would have to write a hundred thousand words per year. While staying in school and doing well enough in school to warrant the scholarship that allowed him to keep the annual tuition at 1.5 million yen.

It was going to be difficult. It was even harder, considering the fact that he hadn't been taught the things that UA wanted to teach him. Thankfully, he knew English and Japanese well enough thanks to the other authors that resided in Chaldea, so during language classes, he was stealthily tapping away at his tablet.

Being pro heroes, his teachers obviously noticed the tapping.

"Already distracted during the third day of school, Listener?"

Hans looked up into the terrible hairstyle that Present Mic had.

"Aah!" he yelped, looking at the strange, pillar-like monster in the fibers. Oh, wait, it was only hair.

"Oh, it's just you, teacher." Hans said in English.

"Yes. Of course it's me, wait-"

Present Mic paused and listened to the unaccented English.

"How are you this good at English?"

"...Natural talent?" Hans shrugged nervously, making his tablet disappear behind his back. Behind him, Midoriya looked at where the construct was suspiciously before taking out a slightly burnt notebook.

"Now. Whether you're good at English or not, you still have to listen in class. Hand over your tablet." Present Mic said, looking at Hans as sternly as somebody wearing shoulder pants could.

"Of course I was listening." Hans lied, holding out his now empty hands. The little mermaid yawned and got out of his backpack, looked at the situation, and then began to giggle. A silent glare from Hans silenced it.

"...You were typing on something, right?" Present Mic said, slowly pacing around Hans.

"Of course not." Hans said quickly. Then, noticing that he had repeated dialogue headers, he winced. Doing stuff like that always showed a distracted author was writing that piece…

He was going to have to proofread his work.

"Well, what was the last grammar point I went over?"

Hans looked at the whiteboard and a Kaminari that was still frantically copying down the fourth sentence.

"We were talking about apostrophe usage, weren't we?" Hans said.

As Present Mic looked back at his own slides to make sure Hans was correct, he sat back down. His cheek rested on his hands as he thought of another way to keep getting words in.

His lunch break was going to have to be sacrificed. For the second time this year.

…He had been caught in Japanese class last time.

…

Hans's eyes glazed over the two thousand words he had gotten in. Fate/Grand Order was a hassle to write, but it at least had a story that dragged on, and it was one that required little to no brainstorming on his part. He had been there for most of the journey, anyways.

In front of him, an empty plate of veggie sticks sat, their crumbs slowly cooling. One half-eaten stick remained wedged in the little cup of ranch sauce that came with it.

"I knew you were distracted during English class." Yaoyorozu Momo said from behind him with a distinctly smug aura.

Hans shrugged. "Prove it."

The tablet disappeared once more, right in front of Yaoyorozu's eyes. Her eyebrows began to twitch.

"How could you… Such…"

"Now, the rich could never understand the struggles of the proletariat." In the distance, Uraraka nodded, pausing her conversation with a certain green-haired child and turning to look at the burgeoning debate, nibbling on a bit of mochi. Iida and Midoriya turned as well.

"You view my writing as a mere distraction? No! I'm working to pay for my own tuition." Hans said. "Unlike you, whose lunches are prepared by five star chefs, mine… is too, since Lunch Rush is a five star chef."

There was an awkward silence amongst the tables surrounding Hans's

"Wow." Kaminari whispered. "No wonder the food tastes so good."

"However, I have to work for every coin that passes through my fingertips. And you? You've probably just sold your furniture on ebay whenever you've needed money. That or asked daddy dearest for the monetary value of a small country, which would undoubtedly be given without a second thought. Such is the life of the rich."

Yaoyorozu's mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"Now, I don't enjoy constantly bantering with you." Hans turned, grinning. He really did enjoy annoying rich people. "But just know this. Every word here? Is worth 1.5 yen."

His tablet appeared and began to scroll on its own, showcasing all two thousand characters.

"What?" Uraraka yelped, tripping over several stools and benches. "Money? Where?"

Hans made his tablet disappear again and backed away, hugging himself protectively. Uraraka's neck creaked, before she turned her head unnaturally to stare at Hans, who could feel greed emanating from her shadow.

"Hans."

"Back, demon, back!" Hans reflexively yelped. He tried to run for the exit, but tripped over a bench. Uraraka's blank expression. His breath quickened, before he took another look and… relaxed.

This wasn't the worst he'd faced.

Faced with Hans's nonchalance, Uraraka suddenly stumbled and blushed.

"What was I doing?" she muttered.

Hans reached up and patted her on the shoulder. "Poverty hits hard. We should know. But this… really isn't worth your time. Building a fanbase takes time and way too much effort. Trust me, that's hell you're walking into."

"Wait! I understood that reference!" somebody yelled in the background. "What was the blue-haired kid's name again?"

"I think… Hans Andersen?"

"Actually?"

"...What's the big deal?"

"Isn't he that author guy?"

"The fairytale author? Like from the new Disney remakes?"

Hans's blood boiled. The thought of those horrid movies was almost enough to send the one who said that a glare the likes of which even Bakugo would have respected.

"No, the one who wrote Fate/Unlimited Blade Works."

"I might search him up later. That is a cool title."

"It's also weird how the red archer knows the name of the timeline he came from." Hans thought.

"So your brother's the Ingenium… and Hans is an author?" Izuku said, scratching his head.

Compared to those, being All Might's disciple was… actually still pretty impressive. Still, all of his classmates were ahead of him, either in heroics or real life.

He would have to work harder.

(If only he had actually tried working out before he was promised a quirk…)

…

"Is he here yet?"

"No, you idiot. Nobody's entered the classroom."

"His quirk could be invisibility!"

"No, somebody's already got that."

"…What if that is Hans?"

Hans immediately ducked behind a wall. He knew that saying what he did in UA would do something to expose his identity.

He thought back to the horror stories of internet authors getting kidnapped into little black rooms with nothing but computers, water, and bread, and were told to write their crappy harem slice of life stories.

…Now that he thought about it, those were probably lies. Nobody would want to read that kind of story that much. Then again, thinking about the stats on those stories, he was getting a little bit nervous.

Was he secretly writing in a community of degenerates? Then again, it wasn't really a secret. The degenerates had no intentions of hiding.

He looked at a clock that hung in the hallways. It was almost time for class to start. Still, the students had no intention of leaving. Hans hovered around the corner, debating on whether or not to just take the tardy marking to avoid this situation.

Just then, a terrible, yet beautiful voice echoed throughout the hallways. Accompanied by an explosion, somebody began to shout.

"Fuck off, you extras!"

Bakugo's catchphrase startled the crowd into slowly leaving.

"Who the hell does that guy think he is, calling us extras?" a slightly muscular student said. With red, pointy hair and weird red bands lacing down his arms, he was probably a hero course reject.

"Do you want to fight him, though?"

"I heard he was number one in the entrance exam…"

As the various students filed out into the hallways leading to their own classrooms, Hans ducked his head and slowly strolled to 1-A's door.

"…Det her kommer til at give mig en migrene inden året er omme."

"What did that kid say?" the passing students said, walking past their intended target.

"...Something about a migraine?"

"I don't know. I don't speak swedish."

Hans's eye twitched. It was Danish, damn it!

…

That day, they had a new class, it turns out.

"The new course you all have been enrolled in is called hero studies." Aizawa droned.

Hans looked at the schedule. Yes, he could read. He already knew that it was called hero studies.

"The classes will be two hours long. Pro Heroes like me will come to give a lecture on what heroism will be about. For that class, you will be doing…"

He got out a ream of paper and slammed it onto the desk in front of him.

"Paperwork."

An uncharacteristic grin graced Aizawa's face.

Everybody, even the impassive Todoroki, looked at the sizable stack of paperwork they were going to have to do in two hours and…

Expressed disbelief in various ways.

The ream of paper was split into five, before they were passed back. Yaoyorozu roughly tossed the stack of stapled sheets onto Hans's desk, knocking over some carefully arranged pencils.

Hans looked at the ponytail obscuring his vision and sighed. Despite the totally logical nature of his arguments, the girl in front of him still bore a certain hostility towards him. Maybe it was the cynical tone of all of his speeches…

He shrugged. He rolled down his sleeves, looked at his thin and eternally slightly burnt arms, then at the still-sizeable ream of paper in front of him, and took it with both of his hands. The paper felt freshly printed, still slightly warm, with the faint scent of ink drifting through the air.

Hans put the ream of paper down, and summoned the ice queen. Very, very cold ethereal hands slapped Hans on the head, as if scolding him for his laziness, before lifting the paper and handing it to Midoriya.

Midoriya looked at the slightly frosty paper, and then at Hans. Hans, feeling the gaze, turned and brought a finger up to his lips.

Midoriya looked incredibly nervous.

…

"Wait a minute…" Hans said, narrowing his eyes. "This is paperwork that Aizawa-sensei was supposed to fill out. Quirk information forms? Student profiles? Middle school test scores? If this were an anime, this class would probably be filler or just straight out cut from the storyboard."

"Truly, a mad banquet of darkness." Tokoyami muttered. However, nobody else deigned to complain about the mountain of forms to be signed and the future joint pain that they would experience.

"More like a lazy banquet of sleep deprivation." Hans muttered, preparing to just activate his version of "rapid casting" (which was just writing or typing really fast) and blitzing through the paperwork.

He already had borderline carpal tunnels. He really didn't want to do this… But looking at the mountain and mountains of paperwork, he sighed and activated his skills.

As Midoriya got out his notebook from behind Hans and started to chronicle his suddenly drastically increased writing speed, Hans's paperwork began to fly into the air and smoke slightly from the speed that the pen was dragged across the paper.

Bakugo looked up from his paperwork, looked at Hans's slightly blurring form, and gritted his teeth. His already rather sloppy handwriting grew almost illegible as he tried to compete with the servant skill. An impossible feat, but impressive in his attempt.

"Damn you… Aizawa sensei…" Hans muttered, looking at the pile of paperwork now slowly floating to the floor. Yaoyorozu turned and looked at his blurring hands with jealousy, looking down at her own, still rather large, paperwork pile.

"Tch…" Yaoyorozu growled, turning back to her own paperwork with a new ferocity. The little mermaid emerged from Hans's nape and floated down to the papers on the floor, picking them up and slowly stacking them on a safe corner of Hans's desk.

"I'm sure that this has some sort of deeper meaning, like the entrance exam!" Iida said enthusiastically, somehow not that bothered by the paperwork.

"Shut the fuck up. This is just Aizawa's damn busy work." Bakugo said, causing Iida to send an affronted look at the person in the back seat, before slowly zoning into a lecture.

"As heroes, we must take responsibility for our potential paperwork in the future-"

Kaminari's eyes drooped, before he began to drool on the stack in front of him. Clearly, Iida had a second quirk: inducing sleep. Maybe he was related to Midnight, though considering their very different temperament, probably not.

"-Additionally, even if the teacher does give us work to do, as students of this prestigious institution, we shouldn't complain about the nature of work-"

Bakugo's eyes began to twitch.

"Aizawa sensei is working hard enough to educate us, so we should reciprocate his efforts-"

Finally, Hans arrived at the last page. With shaking hands, he slowly brought a page of Aizawa's insurance contract up to his eyes.

He looked at the piles of messy paperwork that lay on his desk, and then at Aizawa sleeping at the front of the classroom.

Resolutely, he got a match out of nowhere. With a snap of his fingers, it caught light. Iida spotted the match and leapt out of his seat, knocking over Tokoyami's paperwork stack in his flying leap. Kaminari sat up mid-snore and looked at the flying Iida in surprise.

"Nooo!" he shouted. "Andersen-san, let go of the match!"

"Sure." Hans said, smiling.

Hans let the match go.

Surprisingly, Bakugo began to laugh as the page went up in flames.

…

Hans walked into the grocery store, hands still shaking and slightly swollen. He had been the only one to finish the forms that day. Most other people had to take them home to finish. The familiar smell of cheap bentos and strangely flavored snacks invaded his sense of smell, but he ignored it in favor of walking towards the minifridge. Opening up the glass cabinet, he reached for a chilly can of coffee.

As his fingers closed around the cheap little can of heaven, he sighed as his joint pain was slightly eased.

"You know, I could have just made some ice for you." the snow queen muttered in his mind.

"That's illegal." Hans said, drawing some strange glances. Hans turned, glared at a nervous kid trying to smuggle out gummy worms, and pointed at the shelf.

"Come on, dude." the kid moaned. "I was going to get away with it, too! My storage quirk can-"

"Yes. That's illegal, as well as stupid." Hans said.

As the kid was slowly swarmed by the store employees, Hans walked to the cashier and bought the can of coffee.

"Is it really healthy for a kid your age to keep chugging coffee?" The high schooler manning the counter said, leaning over the cash register to look at Hans's blue hair.

"I'm a high schooler." Hans said, slamming his student ID on the counter. Seeing the prominent "UA" symbol on the card, the high schooler shrank back and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry, dude. Well, good luck on whatever you need that coffee for."

Hans took a deep breath, sighed…

And was immediately tackled by a movie poster. A hauntingly familiar face peeked up at him, Hans going momentarily stiff before starting to kick at the paper. The paper sprouted fangs, turning pitch black, before biting down on his sneakers.

Hans stood up and held up his foot.

"This isn't that threatening…" he said, thinking about why the hell he just saw Kiara's face in the demonic poster.

"It's probably one of those Harry Potter boggart scenarios… showing what we fear the most…"

Then, another chillingly familiar set of clothes jumped down from the top of the building, holding two equally familiar swords. With a hauntingly determined and chunni expression, the green-skinned man descended from the heavens and stabbed the sword into the pavement.

Hans looked at the Emiya cosplayer and sighed.

He knew that writing that novel would have consequences.

"Thanks for the help, I guess, cosplayer. The poster really wasn't threatening at all, though."

"No problem, citizen." the lizard Emiya cosplayer said.

Behind the cosplayer, another familiar figure rose. This time, wearing a red bandana and holding a jagged katana.

"There's somebody behind you." Hans said.

The lizard turned and looked Stain in the face. There was a pause, before the lizard threw his swords at the Hero Killer. The imitation of the married blades flew over Stain's head and stabbed into something that was in the dark alley behind Stain.

"What, is my visage so scary to you?" Stain said dramatically, unsheathing another katana. "For the perpetration of a society without heroes, vigilante… you must die."

Hans scoffed at the cheap attempt at seeming intimidating.

"I wasn't afraid of you." the lizard said. "Look behind you."

"Your cheap tricks won't fool me, you-"

"No, seriously, you idiot." Hans said, looking behind Stain and at a dark blob in the alleyway. "Look behind you."

Stain turned, and saw it.

Several severed movie posters swirled around what looked like a floating dress. The two swords that Spinner threw hadn't missed their target. They were stabbed straight into the hem of the dress.

With shuffling and rustling, the creature dragged itself out of the shadows. What was revealed by the light was the lower half of a little girl, made entirely out of growling movie posters gnashing their fangs together.

Creepy giggling echoed out in the street before the grocery store as it stood up. The blades fell to the ground, clattering loudly.

Hans scratched his head. Was this supposed to be a ripoff of Nursery Rhyme?

As the two vigilantes charged the ambiguous construct, Hans simply left.

"Shouldn't we help them?" the ice queen whispered.

"It's probably just some random villain." Hans shrugged. "The cosplayer and the idiot can handle that."

…

In the distance, Kiara frowned at the failed summoning of another servant."This is getting annoying."

And that wraps it up. Any criticism? Comments? There weren't that many roasts in this chapter.

Unless… You roast my bad writing.

…

Jokes aside, hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll write more eventually!

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

There's not much to say. Big test in four days. Yay.

For any of you that will be slightly confused about Hans's fourth wall break (since it's been a while since chapter 3), Hans also identifies Midoriya as the protagonist there. Just… keep that in mind.

-SpiritOfErebus

"Andersen-san. Can we go and talk about your costume for a second? There are a couple of requests that… confused us."

Hans followed All Might out into the hall, interrupting the previously passionate call to BATTLE TRAINING. Yes, in all caps and italics.

"Yes, is there an issue?"

"There isn't exactly a problem." All Might said, sweating slightly. Hans grinned to see the immaculate facade of an all-mighty hero slowly crumble before the task that laid ahead of him. "We just fail to see how some of your requested equipment is… relevant to hero work."

"The support department did approve it, right?" Hans said, slightly annoyed. "Those are very important parts of my hero costume. Of course, even if a lab coat isn't very imposing as a costume, it has practical pockets, can be used as bandages in an emergency situation, and pairs well with my quirk."

"With all due respect, those weren't the design choices the support department was curious about, Mr. Andersen." All Might said seriously. Hans felt a bit of exasperation and self-righteousness well up within him, but he suppressed the urge to begin to roast the number one hero in Japan.

"What's so confusing?" Hans said, grabbing his costume request document… before smirking in satisfaction.

None of his applications for home appliances were rejected.

"Why do you need a refrigerator, a fan, four alarm clocks, quirk-grade plant pots, a pack of pens, a phone charger, and… many other common household items?"

"It's for my quirk." Hans said bluntly.

"Even with the unique nature of your quirk, young man, I do not believe that your choices are appropriate." All Might said, sighing. "But if you can use those pieces of equipment in your battle training, I will not deny your additional request to take them home so that you can practice."

"Thank you for understanding, All Might-san!" Hans said, adding on an honorific just to be polite to the person that had effectively granted him millions of yen's worth of home appliances.

"Now, we should probably resume instruction, right?" All Might muttered.

"I don't know why you're asking me, All Might-san, but maybe that book can give you some insight." Hans said, looking at the Teaching for Dummies book that All Might had tucked into his costume.

"All right, class, let's continue from where we left off!" All Might said, settling back into a heavily rehearsed performance. "One of the most important parts of being a hero is… Looking good!"

Pointing to a wall, several racks filled with suitcases were ejected, as if on queue.

"These were designed for you based on your quirk registration or the request that you had submitted! Some of you…", he looked at Hans, who smirked smugly back, "Had requested more unwieldy items that are currently near the changing rooms."

As the class began to yell excitedly, Hans couldn't wait to exploit this school more. Because if he really got to take the fridge and various other home appliances home, then he had basically scammed UA out of one year's worth of tuition.

Looking down on his request list, Hans noticed one rejected item at the bottom.

"What's this…" Hans muttered. "Something got rejected?"

Midoriya looked over his shoulder, slightly interested.

"You have a rather long list, Andersen-san. Does your quirk need a lot of support … wait what?"

Midoriya suddenly began to stare at the list with confusion and intensity. It was… slightly uncomfortable. Hans folded the sheet of paper, glared at the overly excited teenager, and walked briskly to his suitcase, which was marked by a seventeen.

Was it weird that he was basically going to cosplay as himself from a different universe?

Probably.

Did he feel guilty for ripping off the design so as to save more time for writing webnovels?

Of course he didn't.

After all, deadlines wait for no man.

…

Before All Might, nineteen students stood, some in anticipation, others in stoic silence and one in near-murderous impatience, waiting for the last one to come out of the changing room.

At last, with an entire caravan behind him, Hans slowly walked to the entrance of the mock city. Looking around at the mock city, which even had real bushes growing out of the sidewalk, he began to curse the capitalists that ran this institution.

He should have asked for three refrigerators instead of one.

At last, Hans arrived in the center of the crowd of students that parted way for Hans and his summons. Behind him, a refrigerator was carried by what looked like a queen wearing a white dress. A tree was wearing four plant pots as a hat, and was sitting in a fifth that came from somewhere within UA's campus, giggling the whole time. A little girl held four alarm clocks in her basket.

When he finally put down a desk fan and stopped in front of Tokoyami, he slowly turned his head to look at Momo, who looked like she was resisting the urge to strangle him."Not a single word. I know what you're thinking. UA's budget is still impractical, and I don't want to hear it."

Yaoyorozu's cheeks grew red within that impractical costume of hers via an emotion that could not be interpreted as embarrassment.

Hans just smirked and turned his attention to an All-Might that was desperately trying not to let his exasperation show.

"Now that we're all here, we can begin." All Might said, flamboyance once again restored to his body language. With his speech and, again, heavily rehearsed, routine punctuated by muscle flexes, heroic poses, and a constant, unflinching smile. Hans wondered whether or not his cheeks got sore.

Hans went over the points mentally. Villains defend bomb. Heroes attack bomb. Time limit. Random teams. There are capture tapes that basically can incapacitate somebody if they're wrapped around somebody. He was just about to pull out his tablet to keep tapping away at his novel when All Might finally ceased rambling about how heroes had to be responsible and minimize property damage.

"Are there any questions?" All Might asked.

"Yes, sir!" Iida said, his hand raised straight in the air. "Isn't there a better way to decide teams than drawing lots?"

"Let's view it this way…" All Might said, an orange box filled with their names still in his hands. "Whenever you team up with a pro on the field, it's most likely going to be a random chance as to who you will be working with."

"But shouldn't villain teams get to plan their partnerships out, then?" Hans drawled, zoning in on the logical fallacy like an eagle. "And besides, heroes mostly have set patrol routes. Wouldn't a competent hero know who they would be teaming up with beforehand, just by looking at which heroes are closer to their own patrol routes?"

There was silence. All Might kept on sweating.

"Andersen-san!" Iida said strictly. "Do you think that you have more experience than a teacher?"

Hans thought back to Chaldea and was tempted to say yes. But since that would raise too many questions about his already suspicious backstory, he didn't say anything, merely lowering his head in 'defeat'. Out of the corner of his eyes, Yaoyorozu did a little fist pump.

"Don't get so cocky." Hans whispered to Yaoyorozu. "It wasn't like you defeated me in this argument."

Yaoyorozu's expression quickly soured, but nobody else seemed to mind their strange rivalry. After all, they couldn't be any worse than Bakugou and Midoriya.

"Isn't this a perfect scenario for one of those enemies-to-lovers kinda deal?" Mina whispered. "I totally ship it."

Hans shivered. Oh, god, the internet was as bad as he remembered.

Teams were finally chosen one by one. Expressions spanned a wide spectrum. Hans chronicled the flustered relief that Midoriya felt when he got paired with Uraraka instead of Bakugo, laughed silently at Iida's futile attempts to reign Bakugo in, and remembered the faint, hesitant smile Ojiro gave him as they were paired together.

"So… Andersen-san… We haven't really talked, but… nice to meet you?"

"It's a pleasure." Hans said, only semi-sarcastic this time. "Anyways, who do you think will go first?"

"I don't know, but I kinda want to go first myself." Ojiro said, looking faintly excited. "Look, All Might's drawing the lots now!"

"And our first match will be…"

"Team A and Team D!"

Hans began to cackle. Ojiro shot him a concerned look.

…

"It's almost like fate!" Hans snickered, once the rest of the teams sat down in an observation room. "Two rivals, destined to fight each other… Bwahahahaha!"

"What's so funny, Andersen-san?" Kirishima said, shaking Hans gently.

"Nothing, nothing…" Hans wheezed.

"Holy shit, this world is such a generic shounen anime!" Hans thought. "And now that I've definitely determined the fact that Midoriya was probably the protagonist back during that rigged quirk assessment test, all I have to do is bootlick him or something and I'll survive throughout the series!"

And, of course, Midoriya was sent to play the villain. With his prospective love interest, or at least a member of the opposite gender that he actually talked to, he went against his probably abusive childhood friend.

Oh, what a moment for character development. If only this wasn't a shounen anime and filled with power fantasy moments designed to hook in the reader.

"So, who do you think is going to win?" Ojiro whispered to Hans, just to find some sort of conversation topic.

"Midoriya, obviously." Hans said. "He's going to pull out some weird stunt from absolutely nowhere and somehow win the match through the benefit of luck or unreasonably accurate planning."

"...Are you sure you're not delusional?" Yaoyorozu said, smiling viciously.

"Explain to me why the mock cities now have shrubbery." Hans said, crossing his arms. "If you people think that spending millions of yen on greenery nobody even uses is sane, then I think that my thoughts are totally justified. Besides, I bet I'll be correct."

"And if Bakugou wins?"

"Then I'll stop arguing with you about UA's budget problems and you can believe that our system is totally efficient in using trillions to educate twenty high schoolers while teenage homelessness is at an all time high."

There was dead silence as everybody mulled their financial cost over.

"Can any of you contribute trillions of yen to aiding a city?" Hans said. Yaoyorozu raised her hand. "You don't count."

She slowly put down her hands.

"Then why are you even here?" Kirishima blurted out, his hot-headedness getting ahead of him. "If you're so unmanly about being a hero, and think that it's not manly, then why would you even attend UA."

"I was basically blackmailed into it because I healed a hero that was bleeding to death because of Stain." Hans deadpanned. "Unauthorized quirk usage and healing quirk stuff. You heroes are oddly intense about recruiting healers, aren't you?"

All Might clenched a fist guiltily, which did not escape Hans's notice.

"Well, whatever." Hans said, waving his hand. "These constructs existed way before me and you, and if the elites are profiting off of merchandise, why change anything?"

The planning and preparation phase was watched in silence. Ojiro slowly edged away from Hans, who finally felt the sweet relief of solitude.

…

Midoriya shouted smash once, and conveniently shattered the floor right beneath Uraraka's feet, making Uraraka's quirk actually useful.

Which meant that either he was really lucky and was conveniently fighting Bakugo right underneath the bomb room, or it was planned from the start.

Judging by the seemingly random encounter and the fact that Midoriya was still planning when Bakugou finally attacked, it was probably luck.

Midoriya collapsed to the ground, winning the match on a technicality. Iida and Bakugo were barely even scratched.

The whole class looked at Hans strangely. How did he know what was going to happen? Hans pointed at the screen as if to say "I told you so", then smirked at Yaoyorozu.

"It isn't a delusional claim if it's true, right?"

Yaoyorozu was tempted to make a blood pressure pill for herself, but thought against it. It wouldn't do to get arrested for unlawful possession and unprescribed drug use.

…

"Next we have… team B versus team I! May the students on those teams please report to the battle training grounds.

It came down to him and Ojiro… versus Todoroki and Shoji.

"Very balanced, UA. Very balanced." Hans sighed, trailing behind Ojiro with his caravan of supplies and rather short legs.

"I'm sure we'll figure out something." Ojiro said, smiling nervously.

"Oh, don't worry." Hans said, grinning slowly. "I've got the perfect plan already."

"Already?" Ojiro said, raising an eyebrow. "But you don't know what building we'll be fighting in, or what kind of street, or-"

"Doesn't matter." Hans said. "This is why I have four quirk-resistant flower pots."

"How does that even help?"

"Oh, and I have an unlimited supply of matches."

"W-what?"

…

"I still don't think this is going to work." Ojiro said, watching Hans put two ducklings into each flowerpot, before a literal child walked around the pot, pouring copious amounts of matches in a circle around said pot. After the preparations were done, Hans set an alarm on the clock that would sound about fifteen minutes later.

"Ice queen, give it the test."

"I'm still carrying a fridge."

"Then give the fridge to the tree." Hans sighed. "Seriously, it's like I wrote you with no critical thinking skills at all. Why did you put somebody under a curse that was so easily broken-"

"Shut up! You wrote me like that! I have no control over my backstory, okay? You do! If anything, you're the irrational one here!"

As the two argued, a wave of ice slowly crept towards the matches. As if sensing the ice, the matches suddenly burst into flames, stopping the ice in its tracks. The ducks inside began to chirp frantically, though they remained unharmed by the flames.

"What.. was that?" Ojiro shouted, jumping away from the spontaneously lighting matches.

The ice went around the pot instead, forming a perfect circle around the ring of matches.

"Okay, we're done here. Let's move onto the next one."

"So there's just going to be absolutely no explanation." Ojiro said, looking at the strange construct. "Okay."

There were three other pots set up like this, except on the one closest to the room with the bomb. There, Hans made the Elder Tree Mother shrink back into a small shrub and put his capture tape in with the pot, then covered the tree and the capture tape with two other ducklings and the alarm clock.

…

Yaoyorozu looked at the various boxes slowly being emptied across the building. With her quirk, she could produce unlimited items, but for Hans to use such specific household objects as what presumably were traps…

She narrowed her eyes. The flowerpots were quirk resistant to resist both the fire and temperature changes. The alarm clocks were both to keep track of the growth of the ducklings and to distract the sensory quirk Shoji had. The fridge… It was both an enclosed space to shield himself from Todoroki's eyes, and something that could empower Hans's own powers over ice. The fan's purpose wasn't clear, but the car battery was clearly there to power the devices.

"He isn't wasting UA's budget…" Yaoyorozu muttered, drawing some gazes from her classmates. "Every single purchase… Is being utilized with over one hundred percent efficiency!"

"What do you mean?" Iida spoke. "I believed that his requests were an insult to UA's generous system. To request these household appliances is a blatant attempt to take advantage of the system!"

"No, no, you've got it all wrong…"

Reluctantly, Yaoyorozu started to explain for her 'political opponent'.

…

Hans massaged his legs wearily, sitting on top of the fridge. Ojiro stood, shell shocked.

In the course of ten minutes, Hans and his summons had set up four pots, a fridge-based frost protection system, a electric-fan powered flamethrower (since Hans's matches couldn't direct the direction of the fire), and connected it all with the phone charger as an adapter. Hans sat within the fridge, a notepad and a pen out.

"Now… Do you want me to write you a backstory?"

"What do you mean a backstory?" Ojiro said, sitting within the lower part of the fridge. Even if it was slightly chilly while activated, it was still a comfortable kind of cool due to the waning heat of summer.

"Oh, I just want to use my quirk to help you against Shoji."

"You can do that?"

"My quirk…"

Hans said, sighing. After uncapping a pen and starting a vague train of thought, he finally decided to actually tell Ojiro, and thus the whole class, about his 'quirk'.

After all, the most effective lie was the one that you told without being prompted. Hans was sure that he read that somewhere, but for now he would just say that he came up with that himself.

"My quirk is called Author's Spirit. I can temporarily write in fake experiences or just strengthen you in general by amplifying character traits, along with using some famous stories as summons."

"O-oh." Ojiro stammered, thinking about his four letter quirk.

"Don't you think that I have it good, though." Hans muttered. "For every bit that my 'quirk' gives power, I also get an ailment."

Hans unraveled his sleeves, and Ojiro gasped at the burns. Lifting one pant leg, Ojiro could see the scales and the almost frosty-looking feet.

"Because of Ice Queen over there, I always have frostbite. Because of the Little Mermaid, I have mermaid scales growing on my legs. Because of the Little Match Girl, I constantly have burns over my body. All of these wounds can never be healed, and I have to constantly deal with the pain every second of my life."

Ojiro felt cold sweat run down his back, despite slowly being refrigerated by the lower section of the fridge. "I suddenly feel much luckier."

"As you should." Hans said. "Now, I'll write your backstory in so that you were attacked by an octopus while at age six, and you have been training ever since to defeat eight legged creatures."

"Will that actually work?" Ojiro said skeptically.

"Who knows." Hans shrugged. "But if you don't believe in it, it definitely won't work."

Ojiro had no words. These were literally the words of a scammer. Still, looking at Hans scribbling in an almost illegible text onto the notebook (that UA provided) with the pens (that UA also provided), he somehow got a sense of legitimacy from the whole thing.

"Does your quirk also let you write really, really fast?" Ojiro asked. "Is that how you filled out all that paperwork?"

"It's mostly practice." Hans sighed, not wanting to mention servant skills at all.

"The exercise begins… now!" All Might's voice said through the earpieces that they had been wearing.

"Okay. Good enough." Hans sighed, handing Ojiro the sheet of paper. Ojiro gripped the ink-stained notebook paper with his fingertips, noticing that it was growing slightly blue.

Hans quickly wrote "Quiet" in big letters, and suddenly, they both weren't making any noise.

Ojiro looked between the paper and Hans, and raised an eyebrow.

Hans sighed, before writing that 'It'll activate when it needs to activate' on another sheet of paper.

Now, all they had to do was take out Todoroki with a tree, six ducks, four flowerpots, and four alarm clocks.

…In hindsight, Hans thought that it sounded more serious than that.

Well, the battle training fight will wait until next time. This probably sounds a lot like a stand battle, but that isn't entirely inaccurate.

Also, I have no idea what costs what in a Japan with quirks, so economic estimates may be different.

But seriously, why does UA have shrubs in their fake city? Its absolutely ridiculous. Imagine if they spent that money on helping the poor and stopping people from becoming villains. Sure, there could be somebody with a plant based quirk, but that's still impractical because in Japan, there won't be plants everywhere so they might as well bring their own plant like Hans brought his own "tree" along :P

Thanks for reading, and thanks for the discord peeps for editing!

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

7/7/2024 note

The authors notes are all from when I posted on ffnet. The events I reference are not relevant to me now.

...

Well, well, well, what do we have here? Another chapter of this Hans fic? Probably.

Have fun reading!

-SpiritOfErebus

…

Shoji walked into the building as quietly as possible, his arms fanning out and slowly morphing into ears. He looked right and left for any signs of an ambush, preparing to turn the ears back into fists and fight any moment.

Todoroki clunked into the room and almost gave Shoji's ears an aneurism. His left half completely frozen, he waddled awkwardly into the room.

"Leave. It'll be dangerous."

Shoji made a mouth to discuss whatever ambush Todoroki had spotted on the horizon, but then he stepped back once he realized Todoroki was using his quirk.

It started as a tiny patch of frost. Then, it spread, pouring into every nook and cranny of the building's surface. Shoji could hear the whole building crackling from the frost. The very foundations wobbled with the added weight, before it settled once more.

The building was filled to the brim with ice.

"Let's just get this over with." Todoroki sighed, a trail of mist coming from his mouth. Alone, he walked into the building, where the fluorescent lights flickered and failed under the intense cold.

Shoji stepped out of the building, allowing Todoroki his moment to shine.

…

Hans felt the cold beginning to creep on his skin, thanks to his extremely frail constitution. "On the fridge. Now." Hans whispered, taking a handful of matches from the Little Match Girl and throwing it at the door, reinforcing the ring of matches he had made around them. The ice trickled in from underneath the door crack. Ojiro watched in horror, from atop the fridge, as the ice circled around the room and was about to frost over-

A blast of flames erupted from around them in the match. The ethereal little girl with the basket fell back into Hans's equally stubby arms, almost as if she was afraid of the ice and the cold. The fire slowly grew, finally killing the momentum of the ice before extinguishing itself, leaving behind pristine matches. Hans felt the drain on his mana, but it wasn't very significant.

Thankfully that was the case, because the Little Match Girl, with fear uncharacteristic of her usual cheeriness and childishness, began to pour a copious amount of matches into the already thick lines.

"Do we still need the matches?" Ojiro whispered. Hans almost facepalmed before stopping the hand a couple of centimeters from his forehead. Whipping out a sheet of paper from nowhere, he started to write.

Todoroki is going to reapply the ice once the alarm clocks go off. Also,be quiet! they have a sensory quirk person on their team.

"How could I forget that…" Ojiro sighed, putting his own palm on his face. Hans almost ripped the paper in frustration, but thankfully, Ojiro's blunder was saved by the bell. Or, in this case, the first alarm clock.

Hans closed his eyes and dived into the consciousness of the two ducklings in group one, suppressing their growth and waiting for the opportune moment.

"I'm going to have a terrible headache later." he thought.

…

Todoroki strode through the hallways of the frozen building, already mentally congratulating himself on his victory. Then, he almost slipped on a patch of ice when an alarm clock pierced the silence of the building.

Quickly, he created a bit of ice at his feet, freezing himself in place. Regaining his footing, he began to locate the ringing. Bringing the headpiece to his ear, he finally began to utilize his teammate.

"Shoji, do you hear where the alarm clock is?"

"This isn't a good idea, Todoroki. It could be a trap."

"The best they can do to me is ambush me with Andersen's foolish appliances or summons. Where are they."

"Can you make a noise?"

Todoroki dropped a ball of ice, which clattered along the hallway.

"Okay, relative to your position, it's up a floor and opposite the direction that you just rolled that ball."

Todoroki fell silent, but kept his radio on. His teammate was being useful for once. Walking past the frozen corridors and occasionally peeking in the dark classrooms, he did not spot any signs of Hans or Ojiro.

Finally, he arrived at the sight of a large metal plant pot with the alarm clock next to it. Circled around the pot and clock were a ring of matches, Todoroki sent a wave of ice at the still-ringing alarm clock, but the matches suddenly burst into flames. Todoroki subtly flinched and stared into the fire for a bit, before he walked forward, reached out with his left hand, and slowly went to shut off the alarm clock.

"Quack! Quack!"

Out of the plant pot emerged… two ducks. One was much more aggressive, while the other looked at its leader and followed its example. They pecked and bit at Todoroki's face, ineffectively scratching the ice on his left.

"Todoroki-san, are you okay?" Shoji said worriedly.

"Enough." Todoroki muttered to nobody in particular. An aura of cold emanated from his body, impacting the ducks, which promptly exploded into a shower of blue sparks that almost looked magical in nature.

Todoroki reached for the alarm clock again, this time with his right. Instantly, flames shot up from the matches once more. He subtly flinched once more, before reaching into the ring of flames and finally stopping the alarm clock.

Only to realize that a second one was now ringing in its place.

"...Shoji?"

"On it."

He was beginning to feel the cold.

…

It took about ten minutes to finally get rid of the third alarm clock and approach the fourth. From a passing glance, Todoroki knew that this was the last one. Hans only had four alarm clocks with him.

He was honestly used to the ducks at this point. Just blast the ducks with ice, and they'll dissolve. Then, he'll be able to get rid of the noise at last, leaving just Hans and Ojiro in the building somewhere, stalling for time.

The previous floors had been completely clear of activity save for the pots.

This meant that…

Todoroki narrowed his eyes.

They were on this floor.

"They're definitely on the fourth floor, Shoji." Todoroki whispered. "Everywhere else has been clear."

He approached the alarm clock, then reached for it, closing his eyes and sighing. Finally, the ringing would stop and he could finish this annoying exercise in peace.

The ducks flew out of the pot, and Todoroki looked at the beasts attempting to flank him from behind before sighing and freezing both of them. They dissolved into blue sparks just as something wooden wrapped around him. Todoroki tried to fight it, but his left side was inhibited by his own ice while his right was sluggish. It wasn't long before he was entirely trapped in thick, deceptively powerful roots.

"I'm sorry." The Elder Tree Mother whispered into Todoroki's ears. "But I'm afraid you lose."

"Todoroki Shoto has been captured!" a PA speaker boomed out.

"H-how did you-" Todoroki stuttered. He was shivering slightly.

"My summoner heard what you said through the ducks, you know? How he's weak and can't do anything with his summons." she whispered. "Well, it just so happens that you were beaten by a fairy tale."

Todoroki stiffened as the plant slithered around his body and anchored his wrists in an uncomfortable position that made sure he couldn't use his Quirk effectively.

"I'm normally a pretty passive plant… but if you ever insult or hurt my creator again…" the tree whispered, morphing itself until a cold, icy green glare emerged, one he knew would not hesitate to deliver pain. "You will regret ever stepping into the 1-A classroom."

Todoroki lay flat on the floor as the tree dissolved into blue sparks.

"Wow…" he muttered. "Hans' trees sure are intense about him."

…

Shoji's eyes were wide when he heard the announcement echo across the mock city. He was the only one that could finish this now.

But how did they take out Todoroki? Did they ambush him? Todoroki was probably the one with the strongest quirk in their class, and his ice was almost instantaneous.

How could Ojiro have gotten him? Was the tailed boy so fast as to surpass Todoroki's ice generation?

Shoji broke his way into the final floor, where Ojiro stood barefoot on the ice, clenching what looked like a blue, transparent sheet of paper.

He couldn't hesitate. There were only five minutes left, and Hans was still nowhere to be seen. Whatever Ojiro did, he had to overcome his speed or strength, and reach the weapon.

Shoji had to prove to the people in his past that his monstrous, bulky arms still would let him become a hero.

Clenching his fist, he ran forward. Ojiro spun up and met four fists at once with a tail.

"Give up." Shoji said calmly. "You have no possible chance of winning."

"I won't know if I don't try, right?" Ojiro muttered, trying to kick some footing into the ice that was freezing the ground. Shoji, on the other hand, had sunk one arm into the ground, providing him some leverage as the physically powerful duo continued to battle.

Ojiro jumped into the air once again, spinning his tail straight at Shoji's face.

Four arms blocked the blow as four more punched him straight into the stomach. Ojiro flipped in midair and landed on his feet, only for the ice on the ground to make him fall down once again. His tail impacted the ground at an awkward angle, and he lay there, the wrinkled sheet of blue paper within his clenched fist.

Did Hans really think that his scribbled story could help Ojiro?

Either way, he really didn't have a choice.

He crushed the paper in his fist, then his eyes opened wide as somebody whispered something in his ear.

Märchen Meines Lebens.

A story just for you.

…

Ojiro opened his eyes in a void of black. Besides him, Hans was standing on an invisible ground he couldn't feel. Hans then began to look around the blank space, his gaze going right through Ojiro's body.

So Hans couldn't even see him in here?

"Seriously? No narrative potential at all?" Hans said, looking around the black void. "No backstory provided… no special character shorts… nothing? Just jokes about how ordinary he is?"

Ojiro wanted to protest. He opened his mouth and shouted, screamed at Hans about his life story. About his parents. About his old school. About his admissions test. About how he was going to be a hero, even if he was just slightly better than average.

Hans never heard. His mouth flapped endlessly in the void as suddenly, volume after volume of what looked like a manga flashed before his eyes, so quickly that he couldn't even see.

Title after title. Page after page. Midoriya flashed before his eyes, battling villains, talking with All-Might of all people. Bakugo made cool poses on the magazines, his fists alight with explosions. Todoroki looked like something out of a model photoshoot.

Midoriya. Bakugo. Todoroki. Midoriya. Bakugo. Todoroki. Midoriya. Bakugo. Todoroki.

Those three were the focus of the world. He was just…

A side character.

Everything went blank. There were only three words and a small, blue-haired boy wading through a pool of what looked like colorful ink, and one, singular character sheet.

It was a sketch. Ojiro recognized it as himself. There was one doodle of him in all this emptiness. It made him feel an emotion he couldn't identify, but he knew he didn't like it.

"It's sad, isn't it?" Hans muttered to himself. "That characters filled with life and potential are left blank. Unremembered. I was one of them, too, right? I know I was just a two star."

He paused, a blue star glowing in Hans's hands.

"I'm guilty of this too." Hans sighed. "My characters were too shallow. One dimensional. I never even gave them definite personalities other than selfish desires. Nor did I bother with their looks, for they were but a mouthpiece to throw my ideals and philosophies into the world."

Hans pulled himself out of the ink, and below him, a network of pages formed, supporting Hans as he walked towards the three big words emblazoned by the void.

By Kohei Horikoshi.

The blue star rose above Hans's outstretched hands, slowly glowing brighter and brighter as the void was finally filled. Hans's hands worked furiously, connecting broken branches and hints, scouring the pool of ink for any hints of a boy in a karate outfit.

"But at least now…" Hans said, grinning as the webs finally connected.

"We can make a start."

At last, the words shifted. The three words began to flicker and glitch, before finally disappearing.

And Ojiro felt free. He felt full. His fingers gained feeling once more. His tail flicked about anxiously, and foreign knowledge was poured into his mind.

He was no longer just a side character. He wasn't bound by the ink anymore.

He… was a human being. And the blue-haired child had given him hope.

…

Ojiro's eyes flickered open, before he blinked. The pain in his tailbone was still there, but it had dulled. His whole form was glowing blue as he stood up. He felt like he forgot something important.

Shoji continued his charge, his seven arms arcing through the air and attacking his four limbs.

Ojiro subtly panicked, and he was about to try and dodge, but-

-a young Ojiro strolled through a seafood market, wrinkling his nose at the fish and the clams that lined the ice. He held the hands of his mother and felt the little claws that threatened to poke out of his mother's fingertips reassuringly.

Eventually, he got bored wandering through the market. He broke free of his mother's grasp and wandered off to the tanks, his tail waving in the air excitedly. Eventually he approached the tank of an octopus.

Said octopus took one look at Ojiro rather intelligently, before leaping out of the tank. Its body glowed green as it began to bulk up. Its tentacles swelled and became vaguely fist like. Sharp teeth showed the orifice of the octopus, clearly showing that in the Octopus's mind, Ojiro was merely prey.

And they descended on Ojiro.

His mother tore him free from the quirked octopus, and the fisherman was given a fine.

Sniveling in his mother's arms, he vowed to never be a victim of… octopus attacks(?) ever again.

This backstory was written in about five minut-

-his body reacted differently. His gaze sharpened as his tail strengthened and he pushed off the ice into one, determined-

-Ojiro spent harsh winters and temperate springs training with his tail. Before him, a scarecrow with four more outstretched "arms" stood, battered and scratched with his chafed tail.

He remembered the buff octopus. The way it broke out of the tank. The way its tentacles waved ominously.

He pushed through the cold and the heat, the wind and the rain. He stood in front of the battered scarecrow and its reinforced arms, and whacked his tail on its limbs.

He would be prepared, when he was in a situation like this once mor-

-to spin his tail into the attacks, like how he had practiced for many, many years in his childhood. His gaze-

-Ojiro stood before a crushed scarecrow. His nine year old body ached and his tail was swollen.

But he had done it. He had broken the scarecrow. The octopus in his mind was split in half, his tail caving through its gelatinous head.

He was saf-

-hardened, and as he fully committed to the spin, he yelled one name that, for some reason, he had really, really hated.

"Damn you, Horikoshi!" Ojiro screamed from the depths of his soul. His eyes glowed blue as his mind sharpened from its sudden bouts of vertigo, and his spiraling tail sent Shoji skidding back.

"What?" Shoji said reflexively. "What did you just do?"

Ojiro gave Shoji no pause. The octopus was before him again, a bloody pulp smothering his clothes as his mother's claws ripped through the soft flesh.

He jumped into the air, spinning rapidly, his head feeling slightly faint from all the rotation. Still, his tail carried through the air and was about to descend on Shoji's head when he… paused.

In an instant, Shoji's fearfully wide eyes were staring back at his own. He shifted his tail to impact the ice right besides Shoji's face. Then, whipping out the capture tape from his belt, he swiftly entangled Shoji in it.

The P.A. system rang out across the building, declaring them the winners.

Ojiro panted, his mind somehow forgetting something about a blank void and a small, blue child delivering a blue spark to a void filled with nothing but a sketch.

What he did remember… was that he…

Was Mashirao Ojiro. He was more sure of it than ever.

That, and a weird octopus story that somehow implanted itself into his memory.

…

Hans peeked out of the room, before slowly looking at where he knew Ojiro was. Said student stood, breathing heavily and basking in his victory.

"This…is going to have consequences, I just know it." He sighed. "Min hovedpine bliver være og være."

"My headache is getting worse and worse."

...

That's another exercise done. I wrote this all in one sitting while taking a break from working on one of my slightly absurd OC fics. It's actually pretty easy to write this fic, considering the amount of bs that I can say about…well…everything.

BNHA has always had a side character problem, with the main 3 in the class kind of… too powerful? I get that it's a shounen, but some of them just have sad capabilities.

This is why I chose Ojiro, because he's so forgettable some people didn't even know his name in my discord server. Now, he has narrative potential too :D (Discord link : discord . gg / s2uFUydRVd) Hans was able to do the memory thing because we weren't given anything about Ojiro's backstory at all in MHA. If he tried doing that to an actual main character, things would be different because they have established backstories (unlike a lot of the side characters.)

(BTW, not meant to hate on Horikoshi. It's just fun to write like this.)

Also, you can't say that Ojiro is OOC because we don't get a character for Ojiro. :P

We somehow hit 1000 favorites too (on ffnet)! Thank you all for your support!

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

7/7 reminder that the authors notes about real life events dont mean anything anymore.

...

Time to continue the extremely long battle training arc… I've written 3 chapters for about 3 episodes of the first season…

Hans and Ojiro… won?

The two phrases would never collide inside Yaoyorozu's head when their opponent included Todoroki, the person with possibly the most powerful quirk in the class. Even her versatility paled in the face of the sheer scale of the ice that he could display during the recommended exam.

And Hans, the irritating, cynical midget with no heroic attitude to speak of…

Had just done the impossible?

"..." The whole class was silent as Shoji was finally wrapped up by Ojiro. Todoroki still lay on the icy floor he created himself, wrapped up in the capturing tape that a sentient tree, of all things, had been able to loop around Todoroki.

"Man, that was crazy lucky for Hans and Ojiro, right?" Kaminari said, scratching his hair and smiling. "But at least they won, so that's what counts, I guess."

"Yeah. They were pretty lucky." Sato muttered, crossing his arms and settling into a serious look that made him resemble a gorilla for some reason.

Yaoyorozu was about to nod, but then…

"No." Yaoyorozu said, suddenly. "As reluctant as I am to praise that infuriating child-"

"Yaoyorozu-shojo." All Might said, interrupting the statement. "Please respect your classmates."

Yaoyorozu thought about Hans's smug face and all the furniture she sold, and gritted her teeth. Still, she had to finish her point.

"Andersen-san's actions weren't luck at all. Do you really think that Hans would think that he could get lucky by letting a sentient tree launch a surprise attack onto somebody that also has fire as a quirk?"

Tokoyami narrowed his eyes, before looking through the monitors at Hans's appliances. Then, his eyes widened.

"He has exhibited such foresight. Surely, he must have learned how to peer into the darkness of our hearts."

"Not quite so dramatic, Tokoyami-san," Yaoyorozu said, "But Andersen-san has indeed utilized psychology to draw Todoroki-san into a routine of ease, and coupled with Todoroki-san's overconfidence and… his… hindered movement…"

"Hahahaha!" All Might's laugh boomed over the classroom, shattering the awkward atmosphere. "Young Yaoyorozu has correctly identified one important element of heroic operations, foresight! It is important to predict what villains will do based on what information you have on them. However, in real situations, Andersen-shounen might not have enough information to predict the moves of total strangers."

Soon, All Might zipped out of the room to collect the students still in the mock building. Carrying Shoji and Hans in one hand, and Todoroki and Ojiro in another, he quickly leapt back to the classroom.

Hans quickly shook himself free of the giant man's grip and smoothed out the creases on his jacket, before standing up and smiling at All Might like a loan shark would smile at an impoverished salaryman.

"Now, can I keep the fridge?"

"...We will retrieve your equipment at a later time, Andersen-san." All Might sighed, his smile faltering just a bit. "But for now, classes must continue."

"Thank you, All Might-san."

…

As students battled on the screen, so did Hans battle his will to interrupt the class and trade snide remarks. Hans closed his eyes and shook his head at the monotonous battles between a fist as hard as rock and Tokoyami's bird-like creature.

Now was a good time to recollect.

Hans… had seen some things during his brief activation of his Noble Phantasm. Despite the fact that his fingers ached like there would be no tomorrow and that he would be unable to fulfill the update schedule he had in mind for his webnovel, he had at least confirmed something.

The concept of a main character did exist. In fact, there were several that could be considered one.

However, he was now firmly in side character territory. And, with an analysis of Ojiro, so were most other people.

And an abundance of side characters usually meant… that somebody died. Or was a spy. But concerns of spying aside, Hans did not want to die. And even though his mind was too weak and unprotected to contain information about the truth of the timeline and the future events of the manga he had been summoned into, he knew that things were going to be bad, simply because he was in a shounen manga.

There were now two routes he could take to survive in this narrative. One, to be conspicuously absent on the day of whatever field trips or activities would occur. However, UA doesn't give an advanced notice of when things like battle trainings would happen, so that was definitely not a choice.

The second option?

Band together with a ton of side characters… and make them into main characters temporarily, thereby insuring his survival. His hands would suffer, but it would be crucial to his greater survival.

And if Midoriya was the protagonist, with his problematic power, Hans would never want to be the sacrifice in order to help him realize how to use it. Which meant that whenever they were in a crowd, Hans had to stay as far away as possible from Midoriya.

"Yes. That would be good." Hans nodded to himself, making sure to keep a mental note.

On the screen, Kirishima finally overcame Dark shadow, batted away Asui's tongue (which must have hurt for the frog girl), and, with one punch, turned the paper mache bomb prop into a pile of shredded paper.

Now that he was considering it, getting a couple of meat shields would be helpful too. With just the right narrative and heroic dream put into a narrative made for Kirishima, he could probably delay some imminent threat that used overwhelming physical force.

How did Hans know that there would be a threat that used overwhelming physical force?

Well, just look at the power of the protagonist. There had to be some insurmountable challenge for a protagonist to utilize their bullshit anime powers against.

…

The annoying battle exercise was finally over. Hans yawned as the many other students walked out of the room, discussing the battles excitedly.

Hans looked at their impressed and eager expressions… before slowly shaking his head.

How could anybody find enjoyment in an act they would soon be doing for at least ten to twenty years? Sure, fighting would get the adrenaline pumping, but it's not like there are entire armies of villains to stop for you all to have jobs.

Hans paused. Did he just trip a narrative flag?

Just as he entertained the possibility of there being several villain armies hidden in the streets of Japan, which by the way, had a huge homeless problem, a hand poked him in the shoulder.

He stiffened, before turning slowly to see Yaoyorozu's resigned expression.

"I lose."

"What." Hans said, flatly.

"I said, I lose!" Yaoyorozu whispered loudly. Many of their classmates filed past them quickly, Kaminari stopping to give Hans a quick wink and a pair of finger guns before swerving into a random hallway. Her hands were clenched, and her brow was furrowed. There was a hint of tears in her eyes, and her teeth were grit together just enough to express defiance. Still, her shaking body signaled her defeat.

Hans knew exactly what to say in this situation.

"I never knew there was a competition."

There was an awkward silence. Yaoyorozu took a satisfyingly slow step back, like most defeated villains would in generic mangas, and steadied herself once more.

"This wasn't?" Yaoyorozu whispered quietly.

"It was honestly just a series of me noting failures in the system that would piss off a lower-middle class person whose family is riddled with debt."

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

"Honestly, it's not even your fault that you keep arguing against me." Hans said, sighing. "It's more of a symptom of the highly hierarchical society that Japan is and your upbringing."

Yaoyorozu raised a finger. Then, she slowly put it down as her index finger curled back into her fist.

"...So, a ceasefire?" Yaoyorozu said. "No more snide remarks? No more pissing people off?"

"I should stop treating you like a spokesperson of a society that is mostly exclusive to us unorthodox quirk users, and actually as a classmate." Hans said, rubbing the back of his head. "I'll listen to what you have to say, and your side of the story…"

"And?" Yaoyorozu asked.

"I'll never change a thing." Hans said, sighing. "I'll admit that I'm an infuriating person that can't help but point out flaws like a cynic."

"...I guess that's accurate." Yaoyorozu said. "I'm normally a pretty nice person too, I think. But you…"

"I just rub you the wrong way, don't I?" Hans said. Now was the time for reconciliation number one to boost his count of side character meat shields!

He had to judge his next statement carefully.

"Well, nice to meet you, Yaoyorozu Momo. I'm Hans Christian Anderson. I hope we can get along." Hans said, spewing out a generic greeting and holding out a hesitant hand.

He really was terrible at interacting with women. Honestly, Kiara probably traumatized him.

Surprisingly, Yaoyorozu smiled, before reaching out and shaking Hans's hand.

"Nice to meet you too."

The two just walked towards the classroom for a bit, Yaoyorozu's tall figure contrasting with Hans's height.

"Still, how did you manage to plan for so many cases? I can see so many potential uses for your appliances that I can apply in my own strategy!"

Hans sighed inwardly. This girl had gotten a totally wrong impression of him, hadn't she?

…

The afternoon was quiet. Hans quietly shrugged on a jacket and looked at the train of his summons carrying the various items that he had been approved to take home. The alarm clocks were, surprisingly, not reduced to slag by the surrounding matches and Todoroki's apparently present fire powers.

He had just left the school, looking onwards as students began to flood to bus stations, bike stands, or in one certain student's case, a limousine.

Hans, however, was not going to take the subway today. Because behind him, the little mermaid was floating behind him, carrying a box of pens, while most of the other appliances, along with the refrigerator, were being dragged along by the elder tree mother. This odd combination drew several glances from UA students, but Hans paid them no attention. Instead, one other question was nagging at him.

"Does this count as public quirk use?" Hans said, scratching his head while passing an alleyway two blocks away from UA. Chansing a glance back, he saw a businessman walk out of an alleyway who cast him a weird glance.

Children walked past him, pointing at the tree woman who was carrying heavy appliances and the floating fish. Hans smirked and waved back at the little gremlins who would have adored his fairytales if only this society wasn't so saturated in hero culture.

Eventually, his twists and turns took him off the road that UA was on, and he began to wind down into the less luxurious neighborhoods. Soon, upper class homes with lawns and shrubbery gave way to crammed apartments and street food stands. Hans snagged a bit of takoyaki for the Little Mermaid, who had felt left out of all of the hero exercises.

It was honestly for the best that she didn't fight. Hans would rather that she not morph into a terrifying creature similar to a siren, considering her last transformation also ended in tragedy.

As if to mirror his thoughts, he stepped into one of his shortcuts and found… a small girl curled up in a box.

"This isn't suspicious at all." Hans sighed, looking at the girl shivering in the autumn afternoon. The girl felt almost… inorganic, but a soul, or something similar to it, was definitely present.

Being the responsible adult he was, Hans tossed the girl a match. Businessman that was apparently following him looked at the match in confusion.

"When you hold that match and think of a fire, it'll light." Hans said, walking past the girl. Sitting in the shadows, the girl's dark face looked up at Hans's features… and shrank further into the box.

Hans continued to walk down his shortcut. On the ground, he could see the marks left behind by Stain and that other chuuni fanboy as they fought that demon child thing. The roots of the Elder Tree mother flowed past those cracks and squeezed past the tight alleyways to emerge into a much smaller street, where Hans's apartment was. He turned and was just about to rest his tired legs by sitting down in the convenience store right on this street, but a sudden thought struck him.

He couldn't rest yet. There was still the businessman trailing him.

"You can stop being shady now." Hans said. "I know you have questions."

"You were more aware than I thought, UA student." the business man said. With a long, pointy nose and an orange tuft of hair, the businessman cut quite the figure. "I do, indeed, have questions."

"You could have just asked when you met me, then." Hans said, sighing. "Is this about All Might teaching at our school? Why there were five recommended students?"

"Nothing so grand, I assure you." the man smiled, and put his hands in his jacket pockets. "The question is simple. Why did you use your quirk to carry those things in broad daylight?"

Hans looked at the refrigerator, and then looked back at the businessman.

"What are you, an idiot? How was I supposed to get this stuff home from UA, then?"

"You… you… got those appliances from UA? How?" the businessman said, a glint of curiosity entering his eyes.

"Well, there may or may not be some loopholes in the support equipment request form."

"Nevermind that. As a UA student, why would you break quirk laws and use it to do something as mundane as carry something home?"

"Was I bothering anyone?"

"...No."

"Then why would anyone need to report me?"

There was silence for a moment.

"In fact, quirk restriction laws in Japan, and the whole world, for that matter, is nothing but the governments being indecisive." Hans said, wanting to cross his arms, but... failing to do so, on account of the box he was carrying. "Most people already can casually use their quirks on the streets, as long as they aren't being extremely disruptive with it. Quirk violence in schools here are common, too, but most of the time it's just treated like regular bullying. Basically, quirk use has become a part of culture when a significant portion of people have quirks and can use them to benefit or spice up their own lives. All laws restricting it are nothing but a law on paper. Also, it makes the hero industry a lot more convenient, with an easier line of laws to capture people with."

Hans took a deep breath, before muttering. "Why am I talking to this slightly suspicious stranger, anyways?"

"Yes… yes…" the businessman said, not listening to Hans's low-volume musings. "But, if one were to address this kind of thing, and force the government in to action, potentially, what could they do? Would... a revolution... be necessary?"

"Can you honestly say that some random organization can overthrow the goverment? And even if they can, other countries that also use restrictive quirk laws as their status quo will step in to reinstate order in Japan, because even if that highly improbable event occurs and those terrorists succeed, other countries will need to step in and take that organization down so that no other people in their territories get any ideas. The best idea would probably be to broadcast some sort of harmless quirk use act that helps people across national television... or something... to draw attention to how arbitrary yet over-enforced the law is. Now, are you done with asking for hypothetical political advice from a high schooler, or can I go to get my coffee?"

As Hans shook his head in exasperation and walked into the convenience store, the long-nosed man stared at the spot that Hans had been standing at. After about a minute of mental gymnastics, he took out a phone started speaking into it.

"What, violence? No, no. Just peaceful protests. Showcase how quirks can be useful to society."

There was a bit of chatter on the other side.

"But if that doesn't work… We return to our old plans."

…

A child crawled out of the box, holding the match that Hans had dropped just a couple of minutes ago. Wreathed in shadows, it was still a blurry and vague figure. Its dress rustled in the wind, before one page of it was torn away and a movie poster flew away into the dumpster.

That face… that face!

Slowly, the movie poster golem's face cracked. A dark shade emerged out of the rips on the face, oozing out of the loose collection of posters.

The child wasn't a child.

With the new, pending release of the post-quirk Little Mermaid remake, it had been sustaining itself off of the populace, draining mana from people anticipating the movie, and the nostalgia and … other strong emotions … that came with having Kiara as the lead actress.

That annoying green lizard and the human with no nose had been hunting it for several weeks now. Its birth had been delayed for far too long.

But it was born a week ago. And now, shedding the cover of the posters, it swirled and gathered around the match.

The match was delicious. Made of magic sourced from a different dimension, yet supplemented with the beliefs of this world.

But much more importantly, it was a link to its creator. The creature swirled around the match, absorbing the blotch of red into its pure black essence.

It was sourced from a little girl that feared the cold, and it yearned to take that form.

Yet, the dark energy that sourced it would not allow it. Its summoner had brought it to life with foul mana and a fairytale book while dreaming of the blue haired creator.

So, if it couldn't be the protagonist, it had to settle for being the antagonist.

The figure shivered, before it melted into a puddle of darkness that molded itself into the alleyway shadows. Slowly, a sense of unnatural cold gathered inside the alleyway, emanating a sense of dread and hopelessness.

The match was now gone, and only the red, chemical head of the match remained. It turned into a dot of red and reappeared on top of a brick.

It could now see. But it was not content with its form. It yearned to reunite with their creator. To consume their tales like they had the match. To become its creator.

And to bring the creator back to the summoner. Only then would they overtake this disgusting culture focused on heroics and silly superheroes, and the tales of Hans Christian Andersen would be everywhere. Then, it would be everywhere.

And, now with Hans's mana fueling the dissolved match's existence in it, the creature now knew where Hans was.

But it couldn't move from the alleyways that sustained the antagonist of the story which contained the match. It had to wait for another form, a more mobile form.

A poster of the little mermaid was blown away in the wind, and the red dot that was its eye looked at it enviously.

Soon.

…

I guess that's it for this chapter. It's almost been a month now…

Well, the USJ is coming up next, and I can't believe how much more complicated everything is going to be now that I'm adding even more villains and side characters to the side character festival that is BNHA.

I'm just saying this now: I'm stopping at the Kamino arc. I do not pretend to understand anything that happens afterwards.

Also, Hans couldn't sense the creepy child thing/movie poster demon because it was way too weak, and any further weirdness would probs be considered quirk bs.

Speaking of quirk bs, I wonder who the pointy nosed businessman is.

FGO gacha rates are kinda trash ngl. No gold servants at all since I posted chapter 6… Pain…

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

Hello there,

I'm stretching the BNHA chronology a bit just to be able to get some character development in. Since this wasn't an action heavy fic from the start (with literally only 1 serious fight scene so far), I'd like to hope that you all are fine with it. Time for another chapter filled with conversations.

...

Hans limped off the train, the little mermaid prying open his eyes and nudging him on his cheek. He stumbled about, his UA uniform getting some attention as he fumbled for the can of coffee that he kept on the side of his backpack. A cold hand handed the can to him, and he slid his fingers over the top of the can, trying to find the ring that would unleash a torrent of wakefulness on his sleepy figure.

The migraines from controlling six separate ducks in yesterday's exercise was really getting to him. He was really regretting not letting them do their own thing.

In the distance, he could hear some people babbling on about All Might and holding out some sort of tube to him. Shaking its head in exasperation, the little mermaid floated down and flipped the coffee can in Hans's hand. With ingrained habit, Hans found the ring of the can, pulled it, and took a swig.

His migraine slowly peeled back, revealing his vision from the haze that had been plaguing him the whole morning. He almost woke up while walking through a particularly creepy alleyway that almost seemed sentient, but he relegated that occurrence to him slowly going insane writing about Gudako's adventures in another story filled with creepy alleyways: the London Singularity.

Then, some very harsh voices finally roused him.

"What do you think about All Might's instruction?"

"How is All Might as a teacher?"

"How do you view the decision of UA-"

Hans looked up at the reporters, sighed and did the only thing that came naturally, even when deprived of sleep.

"Look, I know you all got degrees in social science and are now part of the corporate ladder desperately trying to gain readership by squeezing content out of every single thing that heroes and celebrities do. But can you not bother literal minors below the age of sixteen about it?" Hans grunted. "It's honestly getting kind of creepy how you guys keep hanging outside of the door. I almost feel like I should carry a whistle, I mean just look at that guy in the black hoodie constantly scratching his neck."

The person wearing the black hoodie promptly scurried away as the crowd of reporters collectively turned their heads. When they turned back, Hans was gone.

…

Hans Chiristian Andersen was not a person that was particularly hard working. It was the opposite, in fact.

He was incredibly lazy, and he didn't like work by any stretch.

So why was he slaving away at his trashy web novel sitting on a concrete pillar?

It was because everybody was currently trying to break their own pillar. At first, Hans had wanted to complain about how UA could afford the cement pillars, and then he learned that Cementoss's quirk was… forming concrete structures out of concrete almost instantly.

Now, he had nothing to complain about. And, coupled with his uneasy truce with Yaoyorozu, he surprisingly kept his mouth shut. This time.

Something that occupied more of his attention than his attempts at writing the London singularity while replacing a loli Jack the Ripper with an actually socially acceptable character, which was surprisingly hard, however, was an object that confused him even more than why Sasaki Kojiro called dragons swallows, of all things.

It was… an apology gift. From Yaoyorozu.

The box sat in the pocket of his blue hoodie, unopened yet slightly wrinkled because of Hans's hesitancy over opening it.

The question was… why did it exist? Hans professed himself as an expert in character analysis. This world was a manga too, so everything should be obvious and predictable, a mere rearrangement of tropes.

But there was still one type of creature that confused and terrified him at the same time: women that were engaged in a series of interactions with him. At first, it would be predictable. Then, as they talked to him, something would change. Uraraka, for example, was still completely predictable, the poster child of a female protagonist that the main character was still just friends with. Next, she would be having many adventures and finally get together with the main character at the end with a child or two and a cute series-ending picture.

However, those who talked with him, and insisted on either arguing or conversing with him over long periods of time would begin to act unpredictably. Kiara was a psycho from the start, but Yaoyorozu, the rich, ignorant onee-san type that was so common in the manga collections of a certain perverted pirate in Chaldea, had changed in an unpredictable way.

However, be it Kiara or the new, much weaker and naive challenger, Yaoyorozu, he would not bend.

He had faced Kiara in Chaldea. He had faced Kiara during a summer event, while she was a sassy lost child. He had… lost to Kiara because of a command seal once, but that didn't count!

The point is, Hans Christian Andersen was going to shore up his mental defenses.

"I'm a virgin." Hans mutters. "Don't underestimate my resolve!"

The gift would not be opened, and Hans continued to type. Throughout the day, Yaoyorozu's mood dropped further and further until even Todoroki, somebody normally emotionally oblivious, noticed something.

…

After the battle training, Hans supposed that there really wasn't much about high school that was remotely worth writing about. Everyday was a routine. Classes trudged along and life continued to stumble forward within the unending factory that was UA trying to produce 40 heroes per year.

Now, the class was doing something even more pointless: electing a leader that would probably just pass out paperwork and do literally nothing else.

Honestly, anybody could have that role. Hans would probably even trust Bakugo to do the job, considering the low amount of skill that involved passing out papers.

Oh, and communications with other classes. And signing all their forms. And doing… normal Japanese class representative stuff.

Come to think of it, Bakugo probably couldn't do it. What if his ego was poked a bit that morning and he charred the papers? What if Class 1A was singled out for Bakugo's hyper aggressive actions?

Hans sighed.

Yeah, anybody but Bakugo would be better.

As the classroom began to boil like a pot of water, hands going up and down, sleeves waving about and about, and different claims to excellency filled the air, Hans did nothing but look at Aizawa's equally dead face. For a moment, their dead eyes met, and they shared a commiserating look. Then, Aizawa tilted sideways and fell onto his sleeping bag.

Hans was jealous. He wished he had his own sleeping bag. Or a coffee. Preferably both.

"Silence, please!" Iida shouted. "The class representative office is a sacred position, given to those that are capable of representing the whole class! It cannot be given to just anybody who wants the position!"

The class, surprisingly, went quiet. Hans looked at Ojiro, the only person that didn't even try to raise their hands. They looked… conflicted about something.

In the end, the election ended up being a democracy, unlike most elections around the world. Hans slept through speech after speech, as people desperately advertised what little good qualities they had to secure an office that was basically just more busy work. In the end, even pro heroes wouldn't care about the position. According to this society, as long as you could slap somebody across the pavement and you attended four years of high school to become a hero, you were now a part of the social elite made up of a population that rarely lived above fifty, either dying in action or dying due to health complications.

The rational move was to go to college after he got his hero certification card or whatever, get an actually useful degree, and make money.

Of course, his classmates were filled with actually heroic fools that would sacrifice their college education for a couple years in the spotlight.

Hans dragged his mind back from the tangent and looked at everybody agonizing on their desks.

"Instead of turning this into a mindless, populist venue, why can't you idiots just talk it out?" Hans muttered. "We could actually have an intelligent conversation instead of campaigning for votes like baboons or oil lobbyists, or just see who can bribe others the most with candy."

"Minus the callous language, that's a great idea, Andersen-san!" Iida said right next to Hans's ear. Hans almost fell out of his seat.

"Candy?" Sato said, perking up from his seat.

"No, Sato-san." Iida said, shaking his head sternly and throwing the ballots into the trash. "We are having a conversation about this. Everybody, in a circle!"

Hans looked at Aizawa, sleeping peacefully on the floor.

Yeah, he definitely wanted a sleeping bag.

…

In the end, discussion was made almost impossible with Bakugo's snide remarks and Iida's constant attempts to maintain order.

"My...my goal to be a hero… is to make lots of money… and help out my parents!" Uraraka said, nervous and not confident.

"What kind of half-assed reason is that?" Bakugo scoffed, crossing his arms and glaring at Uraraka. "Are you just fucking around in this school too, like that useless shit Deku?"

For possibly the first time since school started, Hans spoke up voluntarily.

"Why isn't it a valid goal?" Hans said, looking Bakugo straight in the eye. Even if Hans was much smaller and looked much scrawnier, his piercing blue gaze drove back Bakugo's irritated red. "Being a hero is just another profession, no different from any salaryman or construction worker. We're just exchanging different parts of our skill sets for money. Rationally, this doesn't mean that we're automatically morally superior."

"And that's another thing. Why the fuck did UA let you in?" Bakugo roared, his palms cracking with explosions. "You're just a useless piece of shit too."

"This 'useless piece of shit' got in because he saved somebody's life." Hans said. "I normally wouldn't say anything about this, but what did you do? Beat up robots? That's something anyone with a generic Quirk can do. To imply that you are more heroic than other people is just you being egocentric."

"Why you-"

"Wasn't your goal to be the number one hero? It's like aiming to be the number one accountant. Supercomputers have already got you covered. The symbol of peace is a symbol for a reason."

"Are you saying that-"

"Yes." Hans said, crossing his arms. "I'm not a particularly big fan of All Might, but we're not even on his level."

For some reason, Midoriya clenched his fist.

"Okay, that's enough unrelated discussion! If you wish to continue, do so outside the classroom!" Iida shouted, placing himself at the center of the circle. "

"Let's just stop wasting time." Hans said. "Actual classes start in five minutes. Can we all agree that Iida should be class president?"

Surprisingly, most people nodded in consent.

"I was originally going to vote for Deku-kun, but Iida seems like he'd really fit the role, wouldn't he?" Uraraka said, a bit of gratitude in her eyes due to Hans's defense of her goals.

"Okay, any opposed?"

"Wait!" Mina said, crossing her arms and mimicking a stern expression. "But what about Yaomomo? She's-"

"Reluctantly, I have to… agree… with Andersen-san." Yaoyorozu said, to the surprise of almost everybody in 1-A. "Though I also do think I would be fit for the position, Iida-san took control of the situation and was able to wrangle us into sitting in a circle."

Then, she smirked. "Even Bakugo-san followed Iida's orders."

"I wasn't following orders, you bitch! I was just getting ready to campaign!" Bakugo shouted.

"Quiet down." Aizawa said, irritated. "You all still need a vice representative."

"Indeed." Yaoyorozu said. "Which is why I'll propose that Andersen-san should take the position."

"I don't want the position." Hans said immediately.

"But you do occasionally have good ideas." Yaoyorozu countered.

"I really don't communicate well." Hans said, grimacing. "As you probably noticed, I'm a confrontational asshole."

"Do not demean yourself so, vice representative!" Iida said, patting Hans on the back so hard he almost choked on the candy Sato had tried to bribe everybody with as a joke. "With you by my side, our class will shine brighter than ever before! Are there any objections?"

"Please… Anybody?" Hans said.

"Objection!" Bakugo shouted.

"Your opinion doesn't count." Jiro said, glaring at Bakugo.

As the class organized itself back up for English class while Bakugo seethed and glared at Hans, Ojiro shuffled over to Hans's desk.

"You should know how much of an annoying person I am, Ojiro." Hans muttered. "Why didn't you speak up?"

"That was what I was going to ask about. After the fight with Shoji, I remember something like… a violent octopus attack that traumatized me during childhood? Did your quirk do that? And, why do I remember a guy called Horikoshi?"

"You remember that?" Hans muttered, surprised. "The effect was supposed to be temporary. This could be a problem…"

"That doesn't answer the question." Ojiro muttered intensely. "How did you give me an extra memory?"

Somewhere in the class, Jirou's elongated earlobes wiggled.

"Not here." Hans said, sighing. "If I say what I know to anybody else, they wouldn't believe me. After class, in the hallway."

Then, Bakugo's hand slammed down on Hans's desk. The little mermaid, who had been sleeping on one of the textbooks, woke up, startled, and immediately blew a raspberry at Bakugo's face before disappearing to avoid retaliation.

"This isn't over, you hear? I'll prove to everybody that I can be class president!"

"Believe me." Hans said, dryly. "If I could give you my role, I would."

Then, the annoyingly loud teacher with a ridiculous haircut walked into the room and immediately shouted even Bakugo into submission, before they stood up, bowed, sat down, and immersed their brains in English.

Ojiro nodded at Hans, but Hans did nothing, still deep in thought about how to cover up his tracks.

…

"So, what are you going to tell me that will blow my mind and worldview?" Ojiro asked, his voice light yet nervous.

Hans looked at Ojiro's trembling hands hidden inside his pockets. He wasn't ready for the truth. But at the same time, he knew something. Something that he desperately needed answers for. Hans looked up at the bags under Ojiro's eyes, and knew that this person was suffering because of a simple, unexplained, foreign memory.

…Okay, that sounded pretty bad.

Anyways, Hans's only choice was to lie.

"God is real." Hans said, before wanting to slap himself. That was such a bad excuse.

"...Your explanation for this is… God?"

"Yeah. And there are several chosen ones walking the earth with us, and to put in terms that you would probably understand more, they're basically the protagonists of their own story."

"And?"

"...And there's one in our class."

Ojiro sighed, "If I believe what you're saying is true, wouldn't that be a good thing?" Ojiro asked, looking both annoyed and, very slightly, relieved.

"No, considering the fact that we're not the main character of this god's play. We're the side characters, which means that we're probably very disposable and will be used to further the development of the main character. I was going to bootlick Midoriya for plot relevance, until I realized that this was a shounen, and that I'll definitely be sacrificed."

"...How would you even know all this? Your Quirk?" Ojiro asked. "And Midoriya's the main character? No offense to the guy, but he's not exactly what I'd call Main Character material"

"I've escaped the matrix." Hans deadpanned. "Have you seen The Matrix?"

"What's that?" Ojiro said, scratching his head.

"Nevermind, that's a bad example. Basically, all you have to remember is that our lives are viewed as a play by a higher being, and that having flashbacks equals more power."

"...Is that what you did with that false memory?"

"Well, yes. But considering the fact that that memory was permanent, it means that you're even more insignificant than me, since the god that's writing this play didn't even care enough to give you a fixed backstory. Of course, we can each make our own decisions, but people with more plot relevance are more resistant to my changes."

"Again, how can you do all of that?" Ojiro said, stumbling back and leaning against the wall.

"If I said I was the reincarnation of a fairytale writer, would you believe me?"

"Fine. Don't answer me then." Ojiro muttered, determination slowly flooding back into his character. "I don't care whether or not I'm a side character! I'm going to break the mold! I'm going to surpass Midoriya and…"

"Yeah, that's not going to happen." Hans said, dowsing Ojiro's fiery enthusiasm with a bucket of water. "You're not going to surpass Midoriya. He has too much plot armor."

"But… It is possible, right? Come to think of it, why can you manipulate the narrative? Is it because you're a demon or something? A ghost? Maybe your Quirk gave you the knowledge? To sustain itself maybe?" Ojiro muttered a little at the end with a contemplative look on his face.

"Whatever." Hans said, sweating at the mentioning of ghosts. Ojiro was scarily close to the answer of heroic spirits. "Just do whatever you want with that knowledge. Don't be too close to the main character when a catastrophe inevitably comes in the next event we participate in, though."

Ojiro nodded, still looking slightly distracted by his theory of Hans' Quirk and otherworldly knowledge. "Thanks for the advice, but we're hero students. We can handle ourselves. And when I break free too, I'll come back and help you free the others trapped in this sick script."

"That's not how that works…" Hans thought, fighting the urge to face palm.

Ojiro finally left the hallway, passing Jiro on the way back to the classroom. Hans sighed in relief, and stepped towards the water fountain to-

"So… what was all that?" Jiro said, stepping into the hallway. "I knew you were weird, but I didn't know you were delusional."

"Fuck. Fanden tag mig i røven" Hans cursed, finally smacking himself in the face. "I forgot about your bullshit quirk."

...

AN

Hans got the vice president role. Oh, boy. This can only bode well.

As for why Yaoyorozu didn't want the role for herself, across the various arguments, Hans has consistently defeated Yaoyorozu, and since Yaoyorozu is a person that has some self esteem issues, this would probably mean that she thinks that Hans is more fitting for the role. Hope that makes sense.

Logic aside, I have not encountered another author that had actually dedicated a large part of an (admittedly short) chapter to the elections. I mean, the position doesn't really do anything in canon, so it's understandable that it was skipped.

My gacha luck is still trash. Nothing's changed. On an unrelated note, I don't like application portals at all.

Thank you to my chad editors on the discord server, and "see" you next chapter!

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

I have returned, after updating several other fics. Well, it hasn't been that long, considering I updated 3 things between this chapter and last chapter. BTW, spoilers on the chapter end notes about… stuff not everybody may have read.

The grind  never  ends. Hope y'all are doing good.

-SpiritOfErebus.

"...I can't decide whether or not you're clinically insane, or actually serious about your fourth wall breaking hypothesis."

"I think being insane doesn't exclude being serious about a topic." Hans smirked, "But yeah. What I said is basically true. Determinism is real, and free will is a myth."

"...Again, how do you know this?"

"I think I'll just prove it to you." Hans said, smiling like a shark. "Today, there will be an event that requires our current class president to stand up and act like a class president, or else the election will be meaningless in the overall narrative."

"I somehow doubt that." Jiro said. "Maybe it's because I am aware that there are no such things as extras in real life. I think you and Bakugo could get along. He does call people extras, but not with the same reasoning as you."

"I feel insulted by the very insinuation that Bakugo and I are even remotely similar." Hans grumbled. "But you'll see."

"Is this how Yaomomo feels whenever she tries to argue with you?" Jiro sighed. "And more importantly, how did she lose to your crappy arguments about budget?"

"You'll find that ninety percent of my statements are correct." Hans said, "And the passing of time will be my ultimate vindication. Now, we should move along before other people catch wind of this rather suspicious future prediction."

Jiro acquiesced, and together, they walked back into the classroom. Momo looked at the pair suspiciously, but didn't say anything. Ojiro looked especially pumped as he took out his English notebook and prepared to study even harder than he had been.

Hans, however, just pulled out his tablet and began to tap soundlessly. His money wouldn't earn itself.

…

"Would you like some free shaved ice?" a guy wearing a heavy, blue jacket said to a crowd of journalists.

"Sure, man. You don't know how much time we've been standing outside UA. Why are you giving out this stuff for free, anyways?"

"Just… making a statement." the hooded figure said, shuffling back to the stand.

Before the journalist's eyes, a pillar of ice rose out of the sidewalk from nothing. Civilians screamed as the man in the blue hood used his quirk in public without permission.

Then, a man holding a sledgehammer stepped in, heteromorphic muscles bulging. A chunk of ice was shaved from the pillar as civilians ducked behind objects and trash cans, peeking out cautiously. News crews panicked and either started banging on UA's wall harder, or retreated further down the street. One suspicious man in a black hoodie was a little late to back away with the rest of the crowd.

"He's going to throw the ice!"

"Hide!"

The heteromorphic man raised the ice high above his head, breathed in, breathed out, with fog condensing in the air… and placed it in an ice shredder. The machine hummed to life, the plug held by a woman standing next to the stall with bright yellow hair. Sparks flickered to life and died above the woman's frazzled hair as she charged the machine.

Eventually, the ice was shredded, and a man with a small scrap of paper held out his hand. The scrap of paper, however, wriggled and writhed as it grew into a full-sized cup. The ice was dumped into the cup, along with a bit of flavoring, and held high up into the noon air by the man in the blue jacket.

"Does anybody else want some shaved ice?"

Observing from a cafe in the distance, the businessman with a sharp nose grinned.

"Let's see what you do now, heroes. What will you do against innocent shaved ice vendors with no previous criminal history that are giving out their goods for free?"

"This is Re-Destro." He muttered into his ear piece. "Send in the telekinetic street sweepers."

Doing community service with your army was a lot less stressful than planning to overthrow the government. Re-Destro sipped on his coffee and sighed, feeling some of the stress wave off of him.

If this went well, he would never need to use his quirk (which accumulated stress) to fight. How… ironic, considering the objectives of his army.

…

Hans looked out at the tower of ice outside of the building.

"Aha. My predicted catastrophe arrives." he said smugly. Jiro looked at the tower of ice as well, though with a very different expression.

Yaoyorozu looked out at the front of the school as well, before sighing.

"Aren't the teachers doing anything about this? Can we not even control villains outside of the most prestigious hero school in Japan?"

"Whatever." Hans said, shrugging and dropping his pencil, before heading to the cafeteria. "As long as they don't get in the building or whatever, UA's expensive security systems should be able to protect us."

"How could journalists possibly-"

Hans squinted his eyes, and tapped Yaoyorozu on the shoulder. "Can you pass me a pair of binoculars?"

"I don't have a pair."

"Just use your quirk. That's why I asked you." Hans said, looking at the person in the black hoodie surge back into the clearing with the journalists and camera crews.

"But if I do…" Yaoyorozu said, conflicted, "Then how are we any different from them?"

"We're hero students. We're in the gray area between civilians and heroes in that if we do something with our quirks that stops supposed evil from taking advantage of corrupt businessmen with our quirks, then it's fine. Now, I think I see somebody suspicious approaching the gate."

"But my family does run a business! WE already declared a truce, but are you insinuating that my family is-"

"Oh, sorry." Hans said, looking at Yaoyorozu's irate face. "I guess I'll just zoom in with my phone."

The person in the black hoodie suddenly looked down, as if looking at a phone or watch themselves, before disappearing back into the crowd.

"Nevermind. I guess it was too late to gather information on the suspicious hooded man pacing around UA."

"...Was there actually something suspicious?"

"Probably. I'll just go get food." Hans said, "I look malnourished enough as it is."

Turning, Hans left for the hallway. Yaoyorozu stood, looking at the crowd of people herself, before realizing that Hans was gone.

"If you are malnourished, I can recommend that lunch rush set you up with a high calorie…" her voice trailed off as she ran out into the hallway behind the diminutive student.

There was silence in the classroom.

"Like, dude, what is their relationship?" Kaminari muttered to Kirishima. "Did Andersen of all people bag one of the hottest girls in the class?"

"I don't know…" Kirishima muttered. "Andersen-san doesn't seem like the type…"

"Truly, the line between a rivalry, a friendship, and a romance is blurred and dark indeed." Tokoyami said convolutedly. "However, the next great trial in their lives may prove to be a turning point in their interactions, and where will that leave our class?"

"...I don't understand what you're saying either." Kaminari muttered.

Bakugo slapped Kaminari in the back of the head. "Shut up, you extras, and stop blocking the way to the cafeteria. Some of us have better things to do than speculate about midgets and their shitty love lifes."

…

"...What is your book about?" Yaoyorozu said, unpacking her own rather extravagant lunchbox. Hans looked at the sinfully crispy shrimp and the supplement that Lunch Rush provided for the afternoon's quirk exercises that Yaoyorozu was currently daintily enjoying, and suppressed the urge to go and buy extra food for himself.

Some tried-and-true eggcake with bacon bits in a tupperware container would have to do. It was one of the things that Hans could cook himself, and it was… very cheap and convenient... The high calorie content should be able to stave off the temptation of-

The sirens began to ring. His container was knocked over.

"What the hell?" Hans said, pissed that his food was ruined, standing on the bench and looking at… the crowd running around like headless insects.

"It appears that the emergency sirens are sounding." Yaoyorozu shouted calmly, trying to project her voice across the crowd to Hans.

"And why are they running?" Hans said, sitting back down and looking at his spilt eggs with a forlorn expression on his face.

"Because… we should evacuate?"

"We are literally in the heart of UA." Hans said, crossing his arms stubbornly. "There are concrete and steel walls around this building with several pro heroes in the building. The obscene amount of money spent on that aside, Japan's number one hero is also in this building. If anything, we should be safer here than outside. Also, I'd rather not get trampled and die, thank you very much."

Yaoyorozu nodded and sat down.

"Then… should we do anything about this?"

"Hand me a megaphone."

This time, Yaoyorozu didn't protest the order. A megaphone was created and placed in Hans's hands.

"Calm down, you headless sheep!" he shouted, standing up on his chair. "Yes, I'm talking to you all!"

The cafeteria's movements decreased in entropy as more and more people formed rings around the table Hans was standing on, angrily staring at him.

"What the fuck are you all doing? Where are you even evacuating to?"

"The parking lot!"

"Weren't you paying attention during orientation, first year?"

"That's not the point! All Might is in this building!" Hans said. "And there is no fire. There is no announcement saying that there is a fire in the building. Now… where are we supposed to go in case of a villain attack?"

"...The auditorium or the Cafeteria, so our teachers can gather us and protect us?"

"And where are we right now?" Hans shouted at the sheepish students. "Why don't we just sit down where we are… and enjoy our food? By the way, one of you idiots knocked over my eggs, you know? That's literally all of my food! I know who did it! You better pay me back! With interest!"

Somewhere far, far away, down several hallways, Iida slammed himself into a wall above an exit sign.

He stood there, hanging from the ceiling, and he was just about to shout at the students before hearing the megaphone.

"As expected of the vice president of class 1-A." he muttered. "His intellect was even faster than mine!"

…

Shigaraki stepped back from the crumbling UA gate, his dark hoodie making him seem even more obvious than wearing a severed hand would. At least then, people could just assume heteromorphic quirk and move on.

"Get him!" the ice shaving crew said. The man in the blue hoodie slapped the ground,an array of ice crystals sprouting from the ground and trapping Shigaraki. With one touch, however, the ice disintegrated, and Shigaraki ran for the shadows.

"Damn it.." Shigaraki hissed. "This isn't going to plan! Kurogiri, come and get me!"

He…wasn't wearing an earpiece. Ducking below the swing of a sledgehammer and dodging some electricity, he grabbed his phone and dialed Kurogiri.

"Get me out! Get me out of here!"

"...Young master, where are you?"

Shigaraki cursed. Which NPC messed up this tutorial stage?

The blue-hooded man sent a glacier arching over the reporter's heads, forcing Shigaraki to dodge again, waiting for Kurogiri to finally find him.

...

"Boss, what do we do?" the ice user muttered.

"This interloper cannot tarnish our reputation, Geten." Re-Destro whispered, his voice slightly tinny through the earpiece. "Let the telekinetics restrain him, and present him to the authorities."

"What about us? Should we retreat? We've violated vigilante charges, and-"

"No, no." Re-Destro said. "Let them arrest you. This is all for the greater good. Now, focus on capture."

"Yes, sir!"

Stomping on the ground, the blue-hooded man sank his feet into his ice constructs and began to surf after the saboteur.

…

That night, the teachers sat in a very serious circle. All Might, however, was supposedly at his agency right now and thus on the phone.

"Today… we've confirmed that there is a villian group targeting UA." Nezu said seriously. "They have access to a teleporter, and a villian with a powerful destruction quirk. We can expect an attack on UA to happen anytime, and our defense has been proven to be useless."

"...Are you sure they're targeting us, or the protest group?" Vlad King said, leaning forwards on the small, red couch he was sitting on.

"What are the hero commission doing about the protest group, anyways?" Cementoss said, rubbing the top of his blocky head.

"We…don't know." Nezu said. "They could technically be put down as villains, but after the ice melted, they caused two thousand yen' worth of property damage."

"...Two thousand yen?" Vlad King said, raising an eyebrow.

"They chipped four bricks."

"...And they're villains?"

"They did act out against a person who may or may not be affiliated with them, the person with the vaporizing touch. So either that was staged, or they were trying to perform vigilantism."

"What's the problem with charging them with vigilantism, then?"

"Public backlash."

"What?"

"They did start handing out shaved ice, and it could reasonably be interpreted as malicious interference or whatever. It's like a shopkeeper using a quirk to stop a shoplifter, except the quirk involved is pro-hero level."

"So, do we just have to let them go?" Aizawa muttered. "They're clearly breaking the law, no matter what they're doing. Using a quirk in public is illegal, even if you're a shopkeeper or somebody handing out free stuff."

"They are in custody now, but they still have to go to court, and juries are… notoriously fickle, especially since nobody was actually hurt here, and there isn't a moral dilemma. They're just handing out shaved ice when some area around them was attacked." Nezu analysed. "This is either a rash act… or a planned beginning to a grander statement. Did you all see the people sweeping the streets with telekinesis quirks, by the way?"

"Yep."

"Somebody is trying to make a statement, then, to as many people as possible. Some group that isn't trying to attack us."

"So…" All Might's voice said, "Things are getting complicated. Should I focus more of my efforts around UA?"

"That… would be helpful." Nezu said, "But keep in mind, All Might, that there are still situations in which you are required to act."

"Hahaha!" All Might's iconic laugh resounded around the room. "Don't worry, Nezu-san. I know how I should spend my time. And nothing is more important than teaching the new, rising generation of Heroes!"

"Speaking of the newer generation…" Aizawa said, finally starting a conversation. "There are some problem children in my class that are extremely ambivalent about the hero course."

"I already know about Andersen, and he's…an interesting case." Nezu said.

"This isn't just about him burning your health insurance forms, right?" Midnight said, giggling.

"No, it's not about that." Aizawa said. "But I know for a fact that there are people that actually want to be in the hero course, and he's…"

"Constantly complaining?" Cementoss said.

"Doesn't pay attention during my English class?" Present Mic groaned.

"Extremely sassy?" Midnight said.

"He just… hates the hero industry. And I somehow understand why. Even if he could be a hero, would he really be a good influence after he graduates?"

"Your job, Aizawa sensei," Nezu said, "Is to influence his influence."

"That brat is as stubborn as that woman trying to make me laugh with jokes." Aizawa said.

"Then just let his classmates take care of it. I'm sure they're already doing something about that attitude."

…

"Okay, I acknowledge that two days ago, I had the good idea of shouting at a bunch of idiots, but why are you giving me the paperwork to sign?"

"With your impressive display on Monday, I have made the decision of giving you the opportunity to learn from your past mistakes?"

"What mistakes?" Hans said, slightly irritated.

"You did burn Aizawa-sensei's medical insurance." Iida said. "But with sufficient practice, we can make you into a great-"

"But I refuse." Hans said, turning his head dramatically, the fluorescent lights casting a bizarre shadow on his face. It seemed more… angular. Almost defiant, instead of being a petty tantrum.

"How could you possibly shy away from the responsibilities of that sacred office?" Iida said, "As a hero student, you should face your fears! All of us will encourage you to-"

"Yaoyorozu, can you fill this stuff out for me?" Hans said, holding out an unburnt copy of Aizawa's health forms. "I don't think I can control my matches when my teacher's personal paperwork is involved."

"No, Yaoyorozu, don't!" Iida shouted. "This is a moment of growth for Andersen-san, and-"

"Of course I would." Yaoyorozu said, smiling. "You'll have to fill out these forms, though. I won't do everything for you."

"I-I suppose you're fine, if you're taking steps towards recovery." Iida said. "Doing paperwork is a great honor, and I myself relish a task such as this."

"You-you actually like paperwork?" Hans said, scooting back in his seat.

At that moment, Aoyama stood up and strolled past the bunch of non-disclosure agreements.

"Where are you going, Aoyama-kun?" Iida said. "Class is about to start."

Aoyama froze. "Even if it is shameful to admit, even somebody as sparkly as I has to-"

"Okay, okay. I get it." Hans said, "You can go to the bathroom, but you don't have to be so weird about it."

Aoyama winced at the words, but nodded and strolled out of the room flamboyantly. Hans looked at Aoyama's hands, one of which was stuck in a pocket, and raised an eyebrow.

Seriously, some people needed to stop being so intense about their only defining character trait.

I wonder what next chapter is…

Well, Aoyama is still (spoiler alert) still going the spy route. I wonder what would happen with Hans and his Human Observation skill… Hmm…

Hopefully, you all enjoyed the peaceful protests courtesy of Re-Destro. That won't be the last we see of these guys.

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

USJ continues. I didn't want to leave y'all on a crack cliffhanger, so here… the second serious fight scene in this whole fic. In a shounen crossover.

How odd.

Anyways, onwards with the battle!

…

One scarf lanced towards an enemy, entangling them. Aizawa then made the scarf taut and let the villain trip into the fountain, splashing the rest of the approaching crowd..

"Retreat towards the exit!" Aizawa said, dragging down his goggles.

"Yes! Students, with me!" Thirteen yelled.

Hans looked at the charging villains derisively. "You all are being treated as cannon fodder by that hand fetish guy! Do you really want to serve somebody like that?"

"Kurogiri?"

"Yes, young master?"

"Get them. We don't have any more time to waste."

Kurogiri sank into the ground, disappearing into a fog portal. Hans kicked the whiteboard on the flimsy stand Yaoyorozu made at a villain before desperately trying to clamber up the flights of stairs up to the exit.

"Hey, dude, need a hand?" Sato said, his ridiculous masked face looking entirely serious for once.

"What does it look like?" Hans said, irritated. "I basically have a ten year old's body!"

He was promptly scooped up and carried by the buff hero-in-training. Hans sighed thankfully and relaxed, looking at Aizawa fight the villains almost therapeutically. The villains moved like common thugs, flaunting their quirks or strength without any real training, which Eraserhead was very adept at countering. The hand fetishist didn't act, but ahead of them, Hans could see dark mist beginning to swirl.

"Thirteen-sensei!" Iida shouted, noticing the mist as well. "Ahead of us!"

"Stand back, students!" Thirteen yelled out, "Get behind me!"

The cap on her finger promptly opened just as Hans and Sato climbed up the stairs.

"Thanks…" Hans whispered, patting down the wrinkles on his lab coat. Surreptitiously, he summoned the ice queen and the tree to give himself a sense of safety.

"Who even are you people?" Kaminari said, inching backwards from where he stood near the middle of the group.

"We are the League of Villains." the mist villain said. "And we are here to kill All-"

"Yeah, yeah." Hans said from behind all of the students. "We've heard that already. Your implausible plan that definitely won't happen."

"You all will have no time to worry about All Might by the time I'm done with you." Kurogiri said calmly, his mist swirling around the group. The darkness closed in as the students gathered. Hans was just about to summon Thumbelina and try to wave away the fog when the sound of a vacuum cleaner ripped across the clearing between the gate and the stairs.

"Get to the exit, students!" Thirteen shouted. "Escape while you still can! I'll hold him back!"

"The young master may be willing to dawdle…" Kurogiri said, his form choppy in the high winds sucking him towards thirteen's black-hole like fingertips, "But I am not."

A portal appeared behind thirteen and began to suck the astronaut cosplayer's outfit off of her, with her own quirk's pressure being used against her. Hans braced himself as he was almost sucked into the portal, but the elder tree mother was able to dig herself into the ground and secure the class, her branches wrapping around them and keeping them in place.

Thirteen collapsed to the ground, severely injured.

"Everybody!" Hans shouted. "This guy is vulnerable to wind, apparently! So just keep hitting them with wind or sound waves or whatever!"

Jiro plugged her headphones into the speakers at her feet, and the screech of a speaker began to produce sonic waves. The black mist villian's mist was hampered, but the portal itself didn't dissipate. The sonic waves came out of the other portal, hitting the students and making several of them cry out in pain and cover their ears.

Hans sighed and summoned the little match girl, who reached up to cover his ears. Then, he tapped into his mana reserve… and fired a blob of mana. Since mana didn't have a physical form, he was hoping that it would be able to disrupt the portal. The blue projectile zipped out of his hands and impacted the portal, parting the mist and letting the sonic waves attacking the other portal make "solid" contact with the mist, scattering it into the air.

"I admit that you are versatile." Kurogiri said, "But I'm afraid this is the end."

Jiro alone wasn't enough. Sato was waving around a tile he had pried off the ground like a giant fan, while Iida was doing spin kicks somewhere above the students, barely staying in the same place while abusing his boosters. Shoji flapped his arms as well, the skin that almost webbed between the arms generating wind all around the students. However, the winds weren't strong enough…

"Yaoyorozu! Make some industrial fans!" Hans shouted. "Leave the wires exposed and give them to Kaminari."

"But-"

"You're the only one that can save us now!" Hans said, firing another bolt of mana at Kurogiri's encirclement plans.

"But my costume-"

"You don't have to make the fans vertically, for god's sake!" Hans shouted. "I thought you were supposed to be smart! Just make it horizontally out of your impractically exposed midriff!"

Yaoyorozu closed her eyes briefly, before the industrial fan began to take shape.

"No!" Kurogiri shouted, his mist dodging Jiro's sonic waves and Sato's mindless fanning, before it shot towards the industrial fan and Yaoyorozu.

Hans unleashed a wave of blue mana in response.

"Territory creation!" He yelled, summoning his blue tablet and slamming it into the ground. "It may only be rank D, but it's still enough to hold you back!"

"If only for a short while." Hans thought, not wanting to disclose information such as his limited mana to the enemy.

A wave of blue mana pulsed out of Hans, phasing through the students and giving them goosebumps. When the blue wave hit the mist, it was repulsed almost like it was solid, before the mist dissipated.

Hans closed his eyes and gauged the amount of mana he had left. It wasn't looking good. Despite having accumulated some via his fame as a fairytale author, in a society with heroes, that fame was already dwindling. Coupled with the fact that he wasn't contracted to anybody, or whoever summoned him wasn't giving him mana… He could only subsist on his dying fame.

So, in reality, he really could only use something as expensive as territory creation about three times before he began to fade away from this pseudo servant-like body, not that he really understood the magecraft theory behind pseudo servants. It wasn't his area of expertise and he never bothered trying to learn. He was almost regretting that now.

"The fans are ready, Andersen-san!" Yaoyorozu shouted over the cacophony.

"Kaminari, get ready to charge the fans!" The blonde idiot nodded. "Shoji, take over the fans. Use your eight arms wisely, and aim the fans at wherever he might send his fog."

"What if he comes from the ground?" Midoriya yelled, his fingers bent in a way that indicated he was preparing to use his quirk to generate a large gust if push really came to shove, and looking at the purplish, swelling carrot that was his index finger, it had already happened once.

"That's what the Territory Creation is for. This is shoddy work, but it should hold."Hans said, grinning, before looking at Midoriya's hands. " "And you're a goddamn idiot, Midoriya! You only have ten fingers to last you the whole fight, and you've already used one now?"

"Congratulations." Kurogiri said, pausing in his efforts. "You've managed to hold me off almost completely. I'm nearly impressed."

The class stood tensely. Iida fell from where he was hovering in the air and breathed heavily. Hans quickly hit him with an energize with a small usage of his noble phantasm, and he glowed blue as he slowly stood up straight.

"But here you are, nineteen students and one injured hero trapped completely, unable to come out of that small boundary that he has created." Kurogiri said, pointing at Hans. "After we take care of your mentor below, you all will have to face the full brunt of our attack. And then, what will you do?"

"Nineteen?" Hans said, smirking. "Did you really think that you still have nineteen students here?"

"What?" Kurogiri said, yellow eyes narrowing.

"Did you really think I gave a lecture for shits and giggles?" Hans said, stepping forwards and crossing his arms smugly. The little match girl blew a raspberry at the mist villain, before throwing a match at him. It clattered harmlessly against the metal collar of the villain and landed at where his feet would be.

"It was a distraction. The lock is broken, and one of us is already on their way."

"Impossible!" Kurogiri bellowed, his mist stretching and thickening, but-

"Ojiro, attack him!" Hans yelled, snapping his fingers. The match at Kurogiri's "feet" exploded, breaking the mist user's concentration. Without hesitation, Ojiro leaped. His tail spiraled throughout the air, eyes glowing blue as Hans quickly buffed him with another noble phantasm usage with a single word: "stronger". It was basic, and Hans almost cringed at not being able to think of anything better, but it would do.

The muscular tail slammed into the steel plate on Kurogiri's neck and wrapped around it as Ojiro raised a fist and punched down on the neck bracer, trying to knock out the mist user.

"Overly confident, are you?" Kurogiri muttered. "You're in contact with me. That means that my mist can now teleport you to your demise!"

Kurogiri's mist wrapped around Ojiro as he glowed blue, raised his fist, and punched once more.

"Die!" Kurogiri roared.

Nothing happened.

"Territory creation rank D, my friend." Hans said, his blue tablet glowing. "Did you really think I didn't consider your quirk?"

"You sure did." Kurogiri croaked. "But did you consider…them?"

Hans turned as another portal opened outside of his territory creation range, with villains pouring out of the gap.

"Oh, shit." Hans muttered.

Being hero students, they obviously charged forward, defending their injured teacher. Kirishima flexed his quirk to block a thrown knife while Iida and Sato charged forward, one utilizing sweeping kicks intended to disable villains while the other one used crushing blows to knock said villains away. Midoriya fired off two shots with his fingers, one with each hand, at two groups of villains approaching from different directions, staggering the lot of them.

"But like it or not…" Kurogiri muttered, undeniably smirking, if he had a mouth. "They're out of your range now."

The black mist suddenly expanded. Shoji, about to leap into the action himself, was unable to angle the fans to blow the portals away. Hans desperately tried to saturate the air with his mana, but it was too late. When the mist was blown away by his efforts, exhausting his magic reserves down to about half, only Kirishima, Jiro, Yaoyorozu, Aoyama and Sero remained.

Even the industrial fans were gone, teleported to who knows where.

Ojiro quickly sprang up as another knife was thrown at him, having to retreat from restraining Kurogiri. With his tail, he grabbed Hans and placed him down at the center of the group.

"How could this get any worse…" Hans muttered, gritting his teeth. "All of the competent people are gone…"

"Giving up isn't very manly, Andersen-san!" Kirishima said, flexing his quirk.

"My sparkles will not fail us in this situation!" Aoyama proclaimed dramatically, looking at the goons confidently.

Yaoyorozu simply nodded at Hans, before creating a staff herself. Sero cocked his elbows like a terrorist would flex a pair of AK-47s.

"No, no." Hans said. "You don't get it."

"What?"

"To borrow language from the hand fetishist, this isn't even the final boss."

From the bottom of the stairs, a large, humanoid blob soared through the air and landed with a large thud, cratering the already shredded tile floor. Its birdlike beak and gaping maw looked Hans in the soul, and its bulging muscles flexed as it breathed out white mist.

"We're so dead." Hans said, sighing.

"Well, at least it's very self aware of you to know when you're defeated, mini-boss." the hand fetishist said, stepping out of a portal with the rest of the goons.

"But this raiding party is over."

"But sensei-"

"Can Aizawa-sensei beat that abomination in a quirkless fight?" Hans said, looking at the creature literally six times his height.

"That's our ultimate countermeasure to All Might." the hand fetishist said casually, waving his hand. On it, one dead hand flopped in the air loosely, giving Hans the urge to vomit.

Hans took a deep breath, exhaled, and held up his tablet.

"I wish it would never have to come to this." He muttered, creating an illusionary quill pen.

"What? Do you have any other tricks?"

"Tricks?" Hans said, chuckling. "Oh, no, no, no. Just view it as a last-ditch effort. Go, summons!"

Within the territory he created, fairytales sprang to life. A tin soldier spawned out of nowhere, before growing to a truly preposterous size, standing up on a single leg. The little mermaid appeared in full size, hissing at the villains surrounding the group. The ice queen rose up into the air, ice swirling around her palms as the elder tree mother anchored the ground around the students with her roots. A couple of ducklings popped out of nowhere, before quickly waddling out of the door.

"And you?" Hans said, grinning as a giant hand appeared for him to sit on. "You should really reconsider your choice of clothing, hand fetishist. Those hands really are unsettling."

By clothing, Hans obviously meant red shoes. But would he really be giving away information to a villain group? No. Unlike any other character, he was the one that needed exploits the most.

"How dare you-"

Behind him, a footless young girl began to crawl out of the shadows. It gripped its bleeding fingertips into the tiles. Its feet stumps bled out into the tiles as hero and villain alike stepped back.

"Nomu." the hand fetishist said, pointing at the abomination.

The Nomu leapt before Shigaraki and kicked at the girl crawling towards Shigaraki. Dust sailed up into the air as Sero and Aoyama were knocked down from their arrogant poses. As the dust slowly cleared and attention was dragged back to the Nomu… and a ballet dancing hand fetishist?

"What… what are you?" Shigaraki yelled, his dancing almost taking him off the ledge of the stairs. He twirled and danced, a horrifying scene being presented to the villains and students present.

"Now can we get on with it?" Hans said, avoiding the question and searching for a file on his tablet. "Kirishima. Whenever the big guy attacks, it's your job to protect us."

"You got it, my dude!" Kirishima yelled, flexing his quirk.

"Attack!" Shigaraki said, doing a pirouette. "And somebody stop me from dancing!"

Villains surged forward just as the Nomu jumped up… and held Shigaraki's arms in place. Yaoyorozu created several iron rods protruding out of various places in her body, the sudden growth impacting several villains in the gut. Aoyama fired off his lazer rapidly, spinning about like a disco ball. Sero fired off his tape while he spun, using Yaoyorozu's metal rods to create a movement hazard to hamper the villain's motions as Hans's summons did all the work.

Meanwhile, in the middle of all of this, Hans was typing extremely fast on his blue tablet. As the combat around him blurred, so did his fingers.

"The big guy still hasn't come to attack us yet, Andersen-san." Kirishima muttered, his hands held out loosely in a karate stance. Raising it to deflect some loose debris from hitting Hans, he looked in awe as the little mermaid swam up into the air and let loose a torrent of water with such high pressure that it left bruises. "Wow… I never knew that something so small could become so strong."

"Stop talking" Hans hissed. "Editing is hard, you know?"

"Nomu, kill the blue brat!" Shigaraki shouted. "Stop trying to stop me from dancing!"

The Nomu charged forward, fist raised. Kirishima had been preparing for this, and crossed his arms to prepare and take the blow, and-

Boom.

His vision flipped upwards as his hardened body sank into the ground. His arms almost felt like they had fallen off. His head was dizzy, and his whole body felt… stuck… in the earth.

Was that it? Could he only take that one blow?

Raising his arms, he looked down at the shattered skin and torn muscles that lay bare in the air.

And then the agony hit.

Kirishima screamed. His nerves were firing wildly as his quirk struggled to keep reinforcing what wasn't there. Breaths were forgotten and he had to start inhaling and exhaling difficulty to keep the air in his lungs.

"Damn it, I was too slow!" Hans yelled. "Tin soldier, protect me while I finish adapting this trash scene!"

As the Nomu changed targets to the tin soldier, its giant, metallic body slowly crumpling against the Nomu's rapid blows, Kirishima's eyes closed.

Was that it?

Could I not protect… a single person?

…

It's bright…

So bright…

Kirishima opened his eyes, and sat up in the same streets that were right outside his middle school. His red hair contrasted greatly with the faded out surroundings.

Ahead of him lay a trial. Of what variety, Kirishima didn't know. All he could feel was a sense of remembered the giant villain, threatening the two girls. To them, it must have been as terrifying as the hellscape before his eyes.

Then, the passersby screamed. A giant villain slowly walked into the street, cracking the asphalt below his feet. Then, the villain hunched over two schoolgirls… and grinned sinisterly.

He had a hardening quirk. He had to do something. He had to  protect.

But he couldn't do anything. He couldn't move. Despite screaming at himself, his legs were frozen.

He just couldn't move.

Kirishima felt tears trailing down his eyes. In the end, he was just so-

A girl suddenly slid across the street, stepping in between the giant villain and the students being threatened.

Then, everything stopped.

Kirishma looked at the scene mournfully. He looked down at his immobile limbs, and then at his younger self, also frozen in fear and unmoving.

"Am I really this pathetic?" he muttered. "All that time, I thought that I was getting stronger. That I was training for UA. That I could become a real hero. Was that all… a lie?"

..

It was just him again. In a dark room, standing before his application.

It was his UA application.

He stepped forward again, but the application seemed miles away. His step was still heavy, yet with each struggle, he put a foot forward, slowly inching towards the paper and pencil.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, he had struggled his way to the application. The pen, however, was a different challenge.

"You're just a hypocrite, a fraud!" his past self yelled from behind him. "You'll never become a hero.

Kirishima almost stopped reaching for the pen. His past self was right. He was a nobody. An imitator. A fraud. Somebody that didn't deserve to go to UA.

Then, a familiar tape fell from the shelf. Its glow illuminated the dark room, showing Kirishima the familiar hair of Crimson Riot.

"Bear it! Protect!" his idol's voice boomed, drowning out the voice of his past self.

"Sacrifice yourself!"

"I'll keep striving… to be a hero that can protect…" Kirishima muttered, picking up the pen.

The world went white again.

…

The giant villain walked into the clearing again, the same menacing gait, and the same manic expression.

Kirishima resolved to move.

His first step felt like it weighed ten tons, but he still continued walking towards the scene. The girls still screamed in fright, but this time…

He was the one that stepped in front of them.

…

Kirishima opened his eyes again. His arms stitched themselves back together before his very eyes, and he sat up again. Hans was raising both his arms, a wave of blue entering the tin man and repairing its structure as the Nomu pummeled the crumbling defender.

"Damn it…" Hans muttered, looking at Shigaraki, who had stopped dancing. "I lost focus!"

"You're standing up again, red hair!?" Shigaraki yelled. "Who do you think you are, getting up after one of Nomu's punches? Who do you think you are?"

"I am…" Kirishima muttered, puzzle pieces clicking together. His whole body creaked. Chemicals reacted and his quirk factor burst to life, hardening every inch of his body.

"A hero that protects!"

Kirishima stomped on the ground, imprinting his feet into the cracked floor. He steeled his gaze, narrowing his eyes at the incoming fist. His arms hardened all the way to his fingertips as the Nomu stepped before him and punched.

"Kirishima!" Yaoyorozu yelled, stretching out a hand.

"Watch out!" Sero shouted, shooting a line of tape towards him.

"Don't just tank it, you idiot!" Hans shouted, throwing out another blue sheet of paper towards Kirishima.

Kirishima almost crossed his arm to prepare for another block, but-

-The giant villain punched at him, and he was sent skidding across the street. He was thankfully unharmed, but the giant villain raised his fist again, and the girls were

"Hey!" he yelled, "I'm over here, you bastard!"

I won't be able to take this guy's blows head on, so I'll have to distract him! My quirk is great for taking hits, but if I can't stand there and take the hits, I have to get tricky!"

"Hmm? You're very impatient… Impatient to die, that is!"

Another fist came down on him, and this time, Kirishima gritted his teeth.

"I won't-

"I won't…"

He… dodged, and spun on his heels. The Nomu's fist was deflected off of his slanted, hardened skin as he used the Nomu's momentum to fuel his ow-

-n attack. His body was jostled around, but he brought the force around, and stood his ground. The villain tilted his head as Kirishima stood firmly in a martial arts stance, fists clenched.

"I won't falter-

-again!" he yelled, clenching his fist and punching forwards.

His fist impacted the Nomu's rubbery flesh, without so much as an impact forming.

"Impressive." Shigaraki said. "You managed to dodge one of the Nomu's attacks… But you won't last long, underleveled tank character!"

The Nomu's fists continued to fly. Kirishima deflected what he could, but he… still wasn't fast enough. His body cracked, and cracked… and cracked…

He grit his teeth. He was going to be a wall that never fell! He couldn't fall here, now, to a villain that only used blunt force!

"God damn it!" Hans shouted, slapping away another bout of Kurogiri's mist. "I can't keep feeding you mana, Kirishima! Dodge!"

Kirishima grit his teeth and hardened. His skin swelled outwards, filling up the cracks and becoming almost like sandpaper. His durability continued to soar as he glowed blue, his internal organs being protected from the vibrations with whatever protection Hans gave him.

"Kill them all, Nomu!" Shigaraki yelled. "Get rid of him!"

The Nomu wound back a fist, and Kirishima stepped to the side. However, the Nomu's other fist soared forwards as well, in a two-pronged attack that caught Kirishima off guard. He was sent flying into the gate, his hardened body cracking near the front as his blue glow faded.

Hans stumbled in the middle of his classmate's protection, before collapsing.

"Fuck." he muttered, before slumping to the ground.

"I'm out of mana."

Slowly, Hans's creations withered away. The ground that had glowed blue fizzled out.

They were dead. They were so dead.

"Was that it? Is phase two over too, miniboss?" Shigaraki mocked. "Well, I suppose it's time we wrapped this up.

"Give me some energy." Hans said, reaching out and grasping somebody's hands.

"How?" Yaoyorozu yelled desperately.

"Blood…"

"What do you mea-?"

"There's no time!" Ojiro said, taking a defensive stance against the slowly advancing villains.

"It's time you died, kids." the villain with the bug face and knife claws grinned uncannily, raising his claws and preparing to slice open-

A fist impacted the side of the villain's face.

"You…" Shigaraki muttered.

"What the-" Ojiro yelled.

"Yes." the frankenstein-looking villain said, standing in front of Ojiro. Other villains following the lead of the frankenstein-look alike also jumped in, forming a circle around the students.

"Us."

"You would betray us now?" Shigaraki yelled, pointing his finger at the group. "You were just cannon fodder! You aren't supposed to think for yourself."

"I did get a GED." the frankenstein-looking villain said, gritting his teeth. "And I won't be used by you guys to murder children. I'll just be perpetuating a societal disease. Even if I did make a mistake joining up with you guys, I'll never allow you all to finish what you just started."

"Yeah! What my bro said!" the gun-fingered man said, clicking his fingers menacingly. "And if you all try to attack us, I'll blow you all up!"

"Run, kids." the educated villain muttered. "We'll buy some time for you."

Hans looked up incredulously. Had the lecture he had used as distraction… seriously saved their lives?

...

AN

The discord peeps really popped off editing with this. There was a whole scene that I rewrote because of them, which would have been a pretty bad idea if I had gone through with it.

Hopefully, the Kirishima flashback lived up to the Ojiro flashback, and was a bit more serious.

As for the Hans saying he was summoned, that may be spoilers. However, Ima just say here that Hans was put into a 4 year old child while being summoned by Kiara and has lived like that ever since.

Anyways, that was exhausting…

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

…I'm honestly out of creative juice to write a funny Author's Note for this chapter. This was pretty tiring.

-SpiritOfErebus

Hagakure was… very tired.

Her breath came in sharp wheezes. Her lips were dry and cracked, and every step felt like rubbing her feet on sandpaper, which, given the fact that she was walking with bleeding feet on moist grass… wasn't that accurate.

"If you have the energy to think about weird metaphors, you can keep walking." Hagakure rasped.

Just then, she saw a man driving an electric bike down the road. With her blurry vision, she could see a blonde man wearing a dark suit.

"Sir!" she yelled. "Please help! The USJ is under attack!"

She began to see spots, before collapsing onto the ground. She reached up an invisible arm and did not see the difference in the sky.

"Did I… do it?" she muttered.

"Did I save everybody?"

"Wait, who said that?" the blonde man said, looking around. His skinny limbs and sunken, blue eyes swerved around in confusion, before he spotted the depression of the grass, as if someone was lying down in it.

"Hagakure-shojo!" he shouted, getting off his bike.

…

"Andersen isn't getting up!" Sero muttered, aiming his elbows at a villain and tangling up his legs.

"Guys, can you at least try to hold these villains back?" Sero asked the newly reformed villains. To be perfectly honest, he was very skeptical of their actual loyalty, but at this point, he was grateful for the help.

He snuck a glance at a big guy as he sent out yet another string of tape, entangling a villain's wrist as he tried to sneak up on an unarmed fighter. The villain that had switched sides nodded gratefully at Sero before picking up the knife-wielder and throwing it at the mist villain, who just teleported the body away. The knife the villain was holding sank into the ground, inches before Shigaraki's shoes.

"We're doing our best, okay?" the frankenstein-looking man said, gripping his fist to create a small burst of electricity. "But we don't know why that big guy isn't jumping in."

"Do you really think I would fall for that kid playing dead?" Shigaraki yelled. "Quirk exhaustion doesn't work like that! Your taunt won't work, miniboss!"

Sero looked at the still very passed out Hans on the ground, and sighed. The kid was… small. His attitude may be that of a cynical old man, but Hans still looked like a ten year old. His face was pale, and his limbs were as thin as twigs.

How did somebody live like that? And if somebody like that had worked hard enough to pass out… then how could he die without giving it his all?

Sero looked up at Aoyama's face, which was frozen in shock, conflict and fear evident on his face.

"Come on, dude!" he yelled, "Get it together!"

Aoyama yelped nervously, adjusting his red visor, before gritting his teeth and firing his laser into somebody's gut. The strange position Aoyama ended up in was just… odd… before the normally flamboyant student collapsed onto the ground, holding his face in his hands.

"W-why is this happening…" he muttered. "I shouldn't have… I don't even want to…"

"Hey, hey. It's fine." Sero muttered. "We're still learning. But we first have to get out of here, alright?"

Aoyama stiffened. He stopped shaking, and clenched a fist. "Monsieur, thank you for reminding my sparkling self about the fact that… we must continue. We've all come too far to be stopped now."

"Yeah, right?" Sero said, grinning determinedly. "If we can survive the entrance exam, what can't we survive? The zero pointer was terrifying, but we all still ran away from it… Wait a minute…"

"Yes, monsieur?" Aoyama said, standing up and grinning weakly. "What is it?"

"Run away!" Sero grinned. "We may not be able to get out of the building, but we can keep them chasing us! Even if they have a teleporter, if we just hide well enough, they won't be able to find us!"

"Students…" a muffled voice mumbled.

"Thirteen-sensei!" Sero gasped, running up to the collapsed hero and helping her up.

"Get me up." she said, her hands trying but failing to get her off the ground.

"Of course." Sero said. "So, should we still… try to run?"

"We can't." Thirteen said calmly. "Andersen-san is injured, and I'm too much of a liability. The teleporter can send goons all over to look for us over the base, so our advantage would be pointless. All we can do is hope for rescue."

"Are you done with your little pow-wow?" one of the reformed villains shouted, dodging a stab with a frantic sidestep, before retaliating with a sledgehammer to the attacker's face.

With a loud cry of pain, another one of their allies were hit in the chest with a machete. Thankfully, being made of… what looked like an eldritch combination of at least three different animals in the shape of a human, it didn't do that much damage.

"Enough." Kurogiri said, sending in his clouds. "Young master, you may still be wary of the blue child, but they are all defenseless now. No barrier remains to stop my mist."

"No, no, Kurogiri, wait-"

Hans slowly got up, looked at the approaching clouds, and sighed. With his blue tablet flashing in front of him, he tiredly typed a series of words, and a tree rose from behind Hans, blowing out a green wind from her leafy palm. The mist was curtailed as Hans looked at the conscious Thirteen, and sighed.

"I know it's probably been said somewhere…" Hans said, looking at the injured astronaut cosplayer, "But Apollo Thirteen was a catastrophic failure."

"At least they all made it home in the end, didn't they?" Thirteen said, a slight hint of humor in her voice. "Now, can you heal me?"

"...I only really have two actions left before I collapse again, but okay." Hans said, ceasing his flow of mana to the elder tree mother. "Hopefully, you won't be taken out instantaneously. Again."

Kurogiri's body stopped blowing in the wind, and Shigaraki rounded on him. "You see? I knew that he was just playing dead."

"Yeah… sure…" Hans muttered. "Now, can we move?"

Thirteen's backside stopped glowing blue, and she stood up shakily. "Students, run!"

"But how are we supposed to-"

A great iceberg appeared on the stairways, pushing its way up the incline and impacting the walls of the great dome.

"Thirteen-sensei." Todoroki said impassively, frost slowly creeping up his right side. "I hope I made it in time."

"Oh, thank god." Hans said, sitting on the ground. "We're saved."

"Are you, though?" Shigaraki shouted from across the clearing, grinning past the semi-transparent ice formation. "Nomu, get rid of this irritation."

The glacier rattled for a moment, cracks webbing throughout the ice formation, before it crumbled as a black blur flew out of it. Its mouth was open, tongue salivating as it received a firm order to attack. Hans began to step back as he tried to dive for cover. Its muscles bulged as it clenched its fist tight, sure to turn Hans's body to paste.

Hans slowly closed his eyes and let himself fall to the floor.

"In the end… I'm just another side character, right?" he thought. His backstory didn't affect anybody. The ramblings he wrote online influenced almost nobody. His only published book in this world was canceled by the hero association for encouraging vigilantism. His fairytales were a piece of a forgotten past weaponized by a megacorporation for profit and propaganda, without even bothering to credit him.

As he felt the back of his head hit the sharp tiles, and the dizziness that spread throughout his body after that, he grinned slightly… as the fist came down on him right next to his right arm.

The moment stood still. He had… survived?

"Am I not important enough… to die?" Hans said, looking into the Nomu's emotionless eyes. It had only been his small body and unpredictable motion that saved him.

And just as the Nomu's fist was raised once more…

He was pulled out from under the beast's clutches. He looked up into the eternally smiling expression of the hero, no, the symbol known as All Might.

"Do not fear… For I am here!" he proclaimed, Hans limp in his grip.

"Whoa!"

"It's All Might!"

"We're saved!"

Hans looked around the clearing, still suffering lightly from the whiplash of almost dying and staying alive despite everything. Almost every other villain in the vicinity was knocked down and would probably suffer from permanent brain damage.

"Oh? The final boss arrives?" the hand fetishist said, grinning as he flexed his fingers.

"Nomu, defeat All Might. I've grown tired of clearing all of these stages."

Hans freed himself from All Might's grasp, before forcing his body into a jog towards the other students and reformed villains, just in time for an impact to blow him-and everybody else in the clearing-off of their feet.

Flying back, his head nearly missed a tree and a fence post, before he hit soft grass. He looked down at his grass and bloodstained lab coat, lying straight on the ground, and laughed.

He was saved.

They all were going to live. After all, this was just the first arc. And there was no way that a figure as important as All Might was going to lose. He was placed on the grass besides where the rest of his classmates congregated.

"Oh, thank goodness." Yaoyorozu said, lifting Hans up from his position on the grass. Sero and Ojiro ran forward to check Hans for injuries, while Aoyama seemed frozen as he stood there, looking at the Nomu like it was a demon dragged out fro hell.

"Are you hurt?" Ojiro said, looking at Hans from head to toe.

"I… probably have a concussion. But is now really the time to care about me? We might still die here, you know?"

The two titans traded blows, the wind making any speech All Might may have been making inaudible. Hans narrowed his eyes at the inspiring scene, however, and looked at the Symbol of Peace… bleeding?

It wouldn't be a painless victory, Hans reasoned. Clearly, in the source material, there would be something like a going beyond moment where All Might would use the school motto and defeat the monster almost three times his size. However, on the off chance that this was more realistic than a shounen anime and the act of going beyond 100% did not actually exist, because one hundred percent was marked with percentage marks for a reason. There was nothing beyond one hundred percent, considering a servant couldn't really go plus ultra on the amount of mana they had, because it was extremely finite.

Unless, of course, you were an archer class that used the cheat skills known as Independent Action… or you were just a future version of the main character.

Other literature aside, Hans still had one action left after healing Thirteen, and he was going to use the last bits of his mana to let All Might go above plus ultra by buffing him.

He closed his eyes, and was immediately stopped by the obstacles of overcoming not just one, but seven different pieces of narrative significance.

"What… the fuck?" Hans muttered. "Is this an epilogue? Are we in an epilogue?" Because All Might has so much significance that… It's almost like he's the main character.

The more time Hans spent contemplating his existence in a spinoff series, he realized that…

All Might actually was losing the battle. The other students may be distracted by the immense winds or the fact that it was All Might fighting, but Hans had watched Cu Chulainn battle it out with Karna, a literal demigod.

This battle… was incredibly simple. It was basically the black monster and a paragon of justice throwing fists at each other. It wasn't a very exciting fight.

If this were an epilogue, then Hans would have nothing to worry about. The hero would walk away, victorious and with fist held high in the air, and he didn't need to act. He wouldn't need to burn out the rest of his mana to try and strengthen All Might, fall unconscious, and then remain comatose until somebody fed him blood. Or, worse, he would finally fade away when people would inevitably pay more attention to the other injured students or All Might's fantastical feat than remember that he needed mana to stay in this world.

But… if there was another way that he could help…

All he really had to do was restrain the Nomu so that All Might could use his finisher punch earlier. Hans narrowed his eyes at the Nomu's flesh, adjusting his glasses, and noticed that All Might's punches really weren't making an impact. Which meant that either the Nomu was wearing plot armor, or that the Nomu had a power that related to absorbing punches. That just seemed too simple, maybe shock absorption instead? Yes, that seemed plausible. Hans had to restrict his use of Human Observation to look deeper, as the skill actually used some degree of mana.

However, as All Might grabbed the Nomu's side and suplexed it into the dirt, Hans grinned. The Nomu could be affected by physics, which meant that if Hans surprised the beast with the tree's roots and lifted it into the air, All Might could-

The Nomu abruptly surfaced in a portal in an area close to All Might's feet, before lifting him up into the air. Hans facepalmed. They had the audacity to steal his plan!

Now, Hans had to act early. With a wave of his hand, the Elder Tree Mother surged forth from his feet, snuck through the underground, and emerged right next to the Nomu.

"Kurogiri-"

Right now, however, the Nomu couldn't move. It wasn't actually anchored on any solid surfaces, and a simple tug from the roots were able to throw it into the air. The Nomu didn't loosen its grip on All Might's side, but a quick punch from All Might was able to send its exposed brain to a jiggling status, loosening its grip. The tree was then able to string up the Nomu like it was being crucified.

"Punch it now, you buffoon!" the tree shouted uncharacteristically. The portals surged again just as All Might clenched his fist, opened his mouth, shouted Plus Ultra, and sent the Nomu flying out of the USJ, where it disappeared with a cartoonish glint in the sky. Shigaraki and Kurogiri looked at each other and disappeared just as All Might jumped at them again, fists raised.

Hans sighed in relief and recalled the tree, who had one of its branches blown off because of collateral damage.

"Honestly… if only Endeavor was here…" Hans muttered, drawing the attention of Todoroki. "I'd like to see what the villains could have done against fire."

For some reason, Todoroki's glare hardened as he walked away, right side stiffening even more.

Hans looked up to the sky through the hole in the wall and sighed, massaging his wrists. He would definitely have to get a checkup for carpal tunnels.

…

As All Might ran off into the distance, possibly to look for more villains, Hagakure finally returned, riding an electric bike with many of the teachers of UA right behind her. Well, nobody could really see her riding the bike, but with how the bike operated itself, Hans could only really assume.

Once the bike arrived and the entourage of pro heroes stopped before the burnt, frozen, stabbed, scraped, and bloodied students, Hagakure stumbled off the bike, feet still bleeding, and collapsed right in front of Hans. The meaty slap of knees hitting stone echoed throughout the entrance of the USJ as Hagakure sobbed.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

"Don't worry about it." Hans said, wanting to lift her up but not knowing where to put his hands. Seriously, the invisible girl was a walking mine of involuntary sexual harrassment. "At least we're all alive, aren't we?"

Midoriya hobbled out of the USJ both broken arms looking as if they'd been through a meat grinder.

"On second thought, we probably need an ambulance." Hans said, looking at him contemplatively.

"Good job on sending somebody to help, listener!" Present Mic said.

"Well, it didn't do much in the end, did it?" Hans sighed. "All Might still solved everything on his own. We almost died. Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Okay, students!" Iida shouted, his armor sloshing with water. "Let's do a head count!"

The students slowly congregated in a gaggle, swirling around the tied up and unconscious villains on the ground and waving goodbye at the reformed villains that were taken aside by some of the Heroes to discuss what to do with. Nezu at least had a worrying glint in his eye while looking at the group.

Iida slowly counted to himself, pointing at students and muttering as water dripped out of the gaps in his armor.

"Wait a minute…" he said. "Why do we only have eighteen?"

"I'm still here, you know?" Hagakure said.

"Yes… but that's only nineteen." Iida slowly said. "Does that mean that… a student was-"

"Oh, god damn it." Hans shouted. "We forgot about Kirishima!"

…

After digging Kirishima out from the walls of the USJ, all twenty class 1-A students were corralled onto the bus from which they came, all in various stages of injury. Over half of them had bandages wrapped around at least one limb, and others had to be given food to satisfy quirk dietary requirements. Aizawa was placed in the center of the bus on a stretcher, wrapped thoroughly in bandages, and Present Mic began to drive them back to UA.

At that point, everybody looked up at the sun, still shining bright at the time of noon.

"Will UA still charge us for lunch… or will I have to actually buy something?" Hans said. "Because I thought that today's field trip would provide food, and thus did not bring anything."

Yaoyorozu chuckled weakly, her form gaunt and thin.

Hans looked at her, confused. "What? What's so funny?"

Besides him, Ojiro began to laugh.

"Are you guys okay?" Hans shouted, standing up in his seat and holding onto one of the metal bars with both hands to prevent himself from falling over. "Did you all suffer brain damage or something?"

The whole class began to laugh uproariously, except for a few outliers. Todoroki looked to be as confused as Hans was, while Shoji,suffering from collagen deficiency, looked at his half-formed arms and sighed, not really wanting to talk through his actual mouth.

"What? What is it?"

"Nothing, Andersen-san." Yaoyorozu said, stifling her giggles. "We're just glad to be alive."

"Well be glad without freaking me out. I thought for a second you'd all gone insane." Hans muttered.

"Don't ruin the moment." Jiro muttered, prodding Hans in the ear with her earphone jacks.

It was Hans's turn to sigh. "I almost die saving your asses, and I end up being a source of amusement. Truly, a hero's career is akin to saving a snake in the winter."

"And how… Is that an appropriate metaphor?"

"It still comes back to bite you in the end."

Hopefully, you enjoyed the first multip-chapter action scene that was the USJ. I can only imagine what sort of abomination the sports festival will be.

Hans barely survives, and the class begins their trip into gallows humor. How nice…

I still have trash gacha luck in fgo. I got mushroom head boi tho. His NP damage is… depressing. Lostbelt 5.5 was honestly pretty easy. Haven't finished it tho… I just got past the snek god.

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

Note: Once again, authors notes events are way outdated. Ignore all christmas.

...

This fic returns, after christmas! There was a writer event thingy that wanted me to post on Christmas, but on account of incredibly cold weather where I was at that time, allergies that caused incredibly dizzying congestion, a frantic campaign by myself to turn that place into a place I can survive in, and me not wanting to conform to peer pressure of "update on Christmas!, People will appreciate it!", I didn't do anything. Boy was that a run-on...

Needless to say, I didn't participate in that event. But I ended up writing this today anyways...

I bring you this chapter after receiving nothing for Christmas…

Sadge. Besides, who reads fics on Christmas anyways… Definitely not lonely people like me. Definitely not.

Definitely…

-SpiritOfErebus

"...He drank my blood, and got back into the fight." Ojiro said, an admiring look on his face.

"Most… metal thing I've ever seen. And I normally don't use that word."

The police officer in the interrogation room just stared at the student, a look of disbelief in his eyes. He flipped through Hans's quirk profile, before sighing.

…

"...Using a knife, Ojiro-san… stabbed into his own arm, and bled into a bowl that I made. I made!" Yaoyorozu sobbed. "It was terrifying, terrifying!"

The police officer looked at Ojiro's interview notes, and hesitantly looked at the pale, yet arrogant expression on Hans's face.

"What is this kid?" He thought, a bead of sweat running down his forehead.

…

"He summoned an Angel of Death, monsieur." Aoyama said, brandishing his arms out towards the dim ceiling light in the holding cell. "It was truly magnificent! Hans Christian Anderson controlled it with mere strokes of a quill, but it flew around, spewing out arrows of water that pierced the spirits of our enemies!"

"Is… Is he a god?"

"Non, monsieur. He was… a hero." Aoyama sighed. "If only I could have lived up to his brilliance. But no… I was temporarily ensnared by my cowardice. Even though he had to resort to feeding on blood to continue combat, he still ensured the safety of our class, and my sparkling self!"

The interviewer slowly changed the order he was going to be doing interviews in. The demon child was definitely coming in last.

…

Koda's fingers continued to gesture through the air, his slightly intimidating picture on his profile not matching up at all to the meekness of the boy. He looked at the kid gesturing, and regretted not actually trying to study sign language as a suspect interviewer.

At least these kids weren't actually villains, right?

At last, it was time to call in the last kid.

Hans… Christian… Andersen.

The slightly greasy button that activated the speaker in the waiting room almost quivered in the dim light. Across the dusty table, his hand slowly crept towards the button.

But could he really call this kid. This… vampire? This person subsisted on human blood. Somebody that could summon an Angel of Death?

The policeman regretted eating something as greasy as fried pork chops for lunch, but it was too late to turn back now. His finger once again hit the slippery button, and he spoke shakily into the speaker.

"H-Hans Christian Andersen, please come into the office."

…

From outside the room, Hans was frantically feasting on the pork chops that were provided to them.

"Are you sure you don't want these, guys? I mean, this stuff is free. And it's not even bad! Just look at the porkchop that's actually one piece! This isn't shredded meat either, which means that it's actually sort of expensive."

Class 1-A looked at the truly preposterous amount of food that Hans was consuming. Many of them couldn't eat after the USJ, and had left their meals mostly untouched.

Hans was the obvious exception. After nearly dying to the Nomu's fist, having to drink somebody else's blood, and emanating strange, gold sparks, the small child seemed like he had absolutely no qualms against massacring the sustenance.

"At this point, I'm going to turn into some blonde saber with an ahoge." he muttered, mouth filled with delicious calories. Say what you will about Japan, but their tonkatsu was very, very cultured.

Jiro, being the irritating little bugger she was, noticed Hans's statement.

Casting aside his irritation for annoying sensory quirks, he continued down his train of thought. It wasn't like he actually wanted to eat all of this, but food could recover some amount of mana, even though Hans suspected that, generally, properties like these were a narrative trope used to showcase the cooking skills of the protagonist.

Who knows? There could even be a spinoff featuring the harem protagonist of whatever the source material was cooking.

At that point, the system's speaker crackled, and Koda walked out of the room.

For a moment, everybody paused in their conversations, and looked at Hans.

"What, is it my turn?"

"Yes." Ojiro said, nodding. "Yes, it is."

Hans pushed four meal boxes off his lap, set down the fifth on top of a small table, glared at Yaoyorozu as if daring her to take it, and then left for the interrogation room.

Yaoyorozu, in the middle of a third box herself, sighed.

"Honestly, I don't even want to be eating so much. It's only because of my quirk that I need so many calories."

"But what about Andersen-san? Why does he need so many calories? Is his quirk a psychic quirk? Does his brain use up the energy that should have gone to physical development? What if…"

"...And there you go again, Deku-kun." Uraraka muttered, looking slightly concerned at Midoriya's expression.

"That shitty nerd…" Bakugo scoffed. "Our class just beat back the biggest villain attack in four months, and he's still fucking useless.

"Wait, you keep track of that stuff too, Bakugo-san?" Kirishima said, looking up from the porkchop he was considering.

"Shut up, you brick!"

"How did we all survive, though?" Hans thought, as he entered the doorway to the interrogation room. "Honestly, with how brash Bakugo is, I wouldn't really expect him to get away unscathed."

…

The policeman looked nervously at the top of the doorframe. From the descriptions of the student given by his classmates, Hans Christian Anderson must have been a terrifying beast.

Slowly, the door creaked open. The policeman ducked behind the small piece of plastic cover that was granted to the interviewer… and waited.

And waited.

And waited…

And waited…?

His gaze slowly trailed down the door frame, looking for the student/vampire lord.

"What, not going to ask me annoying questions?"

The policeman jumped from his seat. That voice… was incredibly similar to a certain blonde vampire from a series of truly absurd misadventures. If he didn't know better, and if the show wasn't produced in a pre-quirk era, he would even think that the voice actor, or worse, the character himself, had walked in with his eleven seconds of stopped time.

Swerving his neck around at break…well, neck… speeds, he saw a small, emaciated, blue-haired child sit down on the chair that was way too tall for him. The bloodstained labcoat did give him an ominous aura, but otherwise, the small child was actually a pretty sad sight to behold.

Then again, with this Hans Christian Andersen supposedly summoning… terrifying creatures… he was going to do anything but underestimate him. After all, according to all other accounts, he was the one that contributed to the survival of the students even more so than the teachers. Which was surprising, considering Eraserhead's competence.

He gathered his wits, shook his head determinedly, and then began to ask for a tale that… now seemed extremely ridiculous.

Because what kind of high schooler has a whole lecture prepared about the self-perpetuating cycle of hero society? Or… more importantly…

Was that short?

…

Hans burst out of the interview room to a room filled with drowsy teenagers. He coughed once, took a swig out of a paper cup, and crumpled it up into a ball. When he got back to his seat, his food was cold… and overly greasy.

It just… didn't look as appealing as before.

The drowsy teenagers, upon hearing his footsteps, abruptly looked up from their sleep. Some fists were raised absentmindedly, and some quirks were flexed.

"Are you all really settling into PTSD?"

"..." Many students looked at their offensive postures, and sighed.

"Well, don't sleep now. That just makes the PTSD worse."

"And why can't we sleep?" Kaminari whined. "My brain was literally fried twice! In two hours!"

"Because if you do sleep, your brain will keep on reflecting about your day, and inscribe the memory of what you just did into long-term storage, therefore worsening your PTSD. Find a distraction now."

"You think that you can just order me around, you little shit?" Bakugo roared, not sleepy in the slightest anyways. "I bet you were just cowering after that annoying little speech of yours, right? Behind everybody else's back. Because guess what? You're a weak ass little shit that can't even do a physical exam correctly. How the fuck would you be of any use against villains?"

Literally everybody in the room looked at Bakugo, who could feel the gaze of even the illusive Invisible girl.

"...What?" he said defensively. "Am I wrong?"

…

"I didn't even believe that I could be shook by his speech. I was… angry. I was misguided by the person that said I could get back at society. But when that little blue-haired kid spoke about all of the illusions of this corrupted society instead of the lies that I had been fed for my whole life, I understood."

"Thank you for your time. Again, we have been speaking to Rikasakusei-san, a reformed villain from the USJ incident. With the megacorporation Detnerat backing you and your group's case, I wish you good luck in your court case."

"Thank you for your time, and if Hans Christian Andersen is listening to this, I hope that I can live up to your standards so I can actually contribute to society instead of accepting the adverse circumstances against me."

"Truly inspiring words. Now, with the newest report from the USJ, we can observe who Hans Christian Anderson really is, and continue our investigation into who this eccentric hero student really is."

Hans switched off the radio, before chowing down on some more cereal. It was already 10 A.M, but it didn't really matter. After all, he had the day off. And the next day off, too! Thankfully, UA was at least giving them a chance to cool off from violence.

His parents sat around the table, their faces looking down at their barely touched breakfast.

"Did… did you really say all of that?" his mother asked,

"Yeah." Hans said, sighing. "I kind of regret saying it, but delaying for that ten to fifteen minutes really did help us. And besides, those villains saved us in the end."

"But… they're still villains." his father said, a conflicted expression on his face. "Should they really be allowed to walk free? They did enter the facility with the intent to kill you all."

"We all are born into this world with a mutable destiny." Hans said. "Some may be more mutable than others, but in the end, are we really responsible for our actions, or is it society that pre-determines what we do? Are we even capable of affecting our own actions? Some pre-determinists even say that since the beginning of the universe, every single action was just caused by the momentum that resulted from the big bang."

"That's some heavy philosophy you're spouting, son." his father said, chuckling weakly. "But I didn't understand anything."

"Don't worry." Hans said, dropping his spoon and looking out of his window. The urban sprawl before his eyes was beautiful, yet ugly. Tall buildings in the distance contrasted with slowly dilapidated apartment blocks. Clean alleyways in the distance did nothing to cover up the dirty streetways that lined the slightly poor neighborhood they lived in.

"It doesn't matter why or how we make those decisions. All that matters is doing what we think is right."

"And we'll support you however we can." his mother said supportively. "I was quite the brawler back in high school, you know?"

"Yeah. If you mean being beaten up makes you a brawler."

Hans took a look at his parents, before walking to a windowsill and setting his hands on the frame.

He really didn't want to die. He didn't want to live in a narrative shithole. He didn't want to constantly be embroiled in needless conflict. Schoolyard squabbles. And having to roast everybody around him just to achieve sweet, mental relaxation.

Honestly, waiting for the plot to just come at him was a foolish strategy to pursue. The best cure to a sickness was prevention, after all. And to prevent the sickness of trouble, what better way to do that than tackle the source?

"I've spent enough time just writing and complaining." Hans muttered. "It's time I actually did something."

"Well, you're already working to be a hero-"

"It's not that, dad." Hans said, slightly exasperated.

Recently, other than the radio show kind of shamelessly investigating his life for listeners to continue listening, the only real way he could get out there and convince more people to stop being idiots was to…

"Can you drive me to a protest tomorrow? I predict that those pro-quirk use protesters are going to be doing something today."

"I mean, we took the two days off anyway. Might as well go with you."

"...Thanks. I know that I can be troublesome."

"Nonsense! What kind of son can provide millions of yen for their family?"

"But besides that, I haven't really done much, have I?" Hans muttered.

This time, human history wasn't going to erase itself after his brief summoned existence. This time, he wasn't trapped in a computer simulation, forced to serve a disgusting cow woman.

Maybe he could actually, well, do something that would last and improve his quality of life.

"…And starting now, I won't just be a spectator anymore." Hans said. "It's time I started causing some change."

Then, his phone began to ring.

"Yes, Yaoyorozu?"

"...Did you know you burnt our medical insurance?"

"What? I burnt all of our medical insurance? But I only burnt one page!"

"And that one page turned out to be incredibly important." Yaoyorozu said, somewhat smugly.

"That form about Aizawa-sensei was actually about all of our class?"

"Yep."

"So, when will we meet to actually fix the thing? I don't have a printer at home."

For a moment, the family fell silent as his parents listened into his conversation.

"You did the damage." Yaoyoruzu said.

"And we have to fix it." Hans said, smirking. "Don't you just love the Japanese school system of shared punishment?"

After Yaoyorozu suitably spouted off her piece, before reluctantly agreeing to help Hans with the now very numerous forms, the call ended.

"So…" his mother began.

"Who was that girl?" his father said, smirking.

"Shut up." Hans said, looking to the side as if hiding his embarrassment. "It turns out I can't get my rest and relaxation in today."

…

Stain sneezed as he stabbed yet another poster through the center. The paper fluttered and struggled, the voluptuous woman printed on the sheet almost snarling, before the poster crumbled into dust.

"Did you feel like somebody, somewhere, was disregarding their own accomplishments to better this society?"

Spinner sneezed himself as he threw out his dual blades, impaling another half-formed paper demon child to the pavement. Drawing out another pair of his cheaply made, expendable blades, he ruffled his red cloak before sighing.

"Yeah. I get that feeling too."

…

Re-Destro sneezed. The back of his head almost impacted his chair. The sense of somebody not appreciating their own efforts began to knaw at his consciousness.

"Remember to send all of the local leaders of our organization a gift basket after the protests tomorrow." he said. "We'll be working hard today to secure the liberties of those reformed villains."

"Yes, sir." his secretary said.

Re-Destro gave a nod of thanks, before turning back to his thoughts. He still felt like he was forgetting something.

"I've assigned lawyers, tried to rig the jury, assigned missions to all of the leaders, and… oh, wait!"

He stood up, grasping at his forehead.

"I forgot to water the plants! And order those movie tickets!"

…

Yaoyorozu sighed. It was midday, and she was sitting in a coffee parlor. The drinks she ordered were long gone, however, and she wasn't even paying attention to their sinfully good cupcakes in favor of something much more mundane.

That being paperwork.

Of course, it wasn't a lot of paperwork, but it was paperwork all the same. Mostly, it was inquiries about what happened to the collective medical insurance for Class 1-A. However, the forms had to be repeated for every single classmate.

It was… rather mindless, and skull-numbingly boring.

Now, the question would be what in the world vice president was doing.

Well, Hans should also be doing paperwork. Should being the operative word. When Momo came in to do her duty she was Hans sitting on one of the tables, tapping away at his magically appearing tablet.

She would have said something, if not for the stack of already done paperwork sitting on his side of the table. So now it was just her, sitting across from the irritating blue child with nothing but a small sleeping mermaid, a potted plant which she could swear was staring at her, and the rhythmic sound of tapping on a tablet.

Yaoyorzu sighed again and began filling out the last of the paperwork when another noise made itself known. She blinked, confused at first at what she was hearing, then even more confused once she realized what it was. Humming. Coming from where the sound of tapping was.

She looked up, sure that she was mistaken, but no, there Hans sat, tapping away at his tablet, humming a melody she'd never heard before.

It was so bizarre that she couldn't help but stare. In the corner of her eye she also saw the mermaid blink confusedly at its creator and even the tree was leaning to where Hans sat.

It took a minute before Hans noticed the attention he was receiving,

"What?" He asked, slightly amused and annoyed.

"Nothing, nothing." Momo replied, still staring. "Just, never pictured you as the musical type."

"What are you on about?" Hans asked, even more annoyed.

"The melody."

"What melody?"

"The one you were humming."

Hans finally put his tablet away, completely confused. "I wasn't humming any melodies."

"Yes, you were. We could all hear it." Yaoyorozu said, now also confused.

When Hans looked at the little mermaid, she nodded her head. He was very confused now. He couldn't remember humming anything, he also didn't know how he could have, since he didn't listen to music, preferring the silence of his mind when writing his stories.

"I don't listen to music." Yaoyorozu looked bemused and slightly concerned at the expression that was slowly coming over Hans' face.

"Then, how come you were humming?" Hans looked down with a confused and, dare she say, slightly scared expression.

…

Kiara was humming a tune to a song she loved.

She heard it while she was learning Danish for the first time to experience Hans' lovely work as they were originally written and, once she figured out the lyrics, fell in love with it.

It was an old song, at least, by modern standards. When she first heard it, it was still rather popular, barely a few decades old.

It was a love song, one that she felt was fitting given what she was doing and who it was for. She was putting the final touches on her greatest work yet.

Now all she needed was the right catalyst, and she knew just the thing. Kiara smiled a smile that was both beautiful and unholy, promising both all of heavens pleasure and pain beyond any hell, and sang in a voice befitting a Goddess,

"Kvinde min jeg elsker dig, og jeg ved, du elsker mig. Og hvad der så end sker åh lad det ske, for jeg er din." The shadows seemed to dance with her voice.

"And whatever happens? Oh let it happen. But I am yours…"

Kiara's grin widened as she looked at a statue's decapitated head.

"And you are mine."

…

AN

Kiara makes her second appearance, I think. And this is mostly a wind-down chapter from the three previous, rather hectic chapters.

I'm trying to give Hans some char development. It may work. It may not work. I don't know. I'm trying here. Unlike my other Kojiro fic, where Kojiro is rather one dimensional, here, I'm giving it an honest effort. I mean, it's already at 40k words and I haven't even touched the sports festival, along with all of the other things that I'm planning on shoving into the crowded BNHA timeline. Oh joy…

I finished lostbelt 5.5. The bosses were disappointments. Also, I finished the karna christmas cq with a lvl 80 Billy with 4/4/4 skills and double Hans support, baby! Only took me nine turns once I 10/10/10'd Billy.

BTW, my boi RumIe5 helped out a lot with the last 2 sections. Hats off to that.

Merry New Year and Happy Christmas!

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Here we go again! It's time for consequences.

-SpiritOfErebus

Japan's forums had exploded.

All around the internet, the videos were posted. From different angles and points of view, from both sides of the protest. From on top of a building, inside a cafe. From over the top with a recreational drone.

At that point, the tides were too quick to stop. No ban of videos or taking down the speech as slander could work, because that would just have proved the kid's point.

"Ma'am, this isn't looking good for our PR." an analyst said at a board meeting several floors underground.

Outside the door, guards stood, weapons in their arms to prevent information leaks. A trusted confidant with an electronic device detection quirk was brought in, scanned the room, then brought out into solitary confinement for three days in order to preserve absolute secrecy.

"I know, I know." the president said, her expression concentrated in a frown. "Even if we may not be as corrupt as they say, many heroes are not acting… as ideally as they can. And the way that we have structured the system does mean that many more children with supposedly more villainous quirks will maybe become villains, but what better system can he think of? What?"

"Still, he proposed that the whole system of heroes is wrong." another board member protested. "And many of our investors and sponsors want this system to continue so-"

"So they can keep selling overpriced merchandise." the president said. "I know. Is there truly no way to sidestep our sponsors?"

"Considering the fact that Mt. Lady alone caused another 700 million yen by wrecking an office building, I'd say that yes. We do need our sponsors."

"Why in the world are we even bothering to pay her?" she groaned, massaging her forehead. "I guess we'll have to turn to the old tactic of-"

"I thought we were past that era."

"But we cannot allow further changes to the status quo to spread further. Society is fragile as it is, with the one pillar holding us up."

"How old is All Might again?" a sleep deprived board member said, face flat on the desk.

"49 years old."

"Oh, god." he groaned, putting his hands on his head and massaging his temples. "We're probably only going to get a good 5 years out of him until we have to have Endeavor take over the reign, and he's practically retired as well. How old is he, 46?"

"46. And we'll be lacking in serious firepower in the upper ranks after this."

"Heh. Firepower."

"Shut up." the president whirled around, her immaculate suit ruffling almost immediately. "This is serious."

"...Sorry."

"So, what do we do about the kid?"

"I guess for the good of Japan, we have to get rid of him. Send in some of our undercover villains."

"We haven't mobilized one in years."

"Well, there are at least five that are still operating, right? With a modicum of reputation and skill?"

"Enough to finish off that joke of a hero student." the president said, sighing. "I mean, his quirk is barely offensive."

"But what if he becomes a martyr? A symbol, like Stain?"

"Then we'll have to make sure that he never shines in the spotlight again." the President said. "The UA sports festival is in a couple of weeks, right?"

"Almost a month, actually." the sleep deprived person with his face on the table sighed.

"And this… Hans Christian Andersen… Is notoriously bad at races, correct? And has a limit on the amount of power he can exert per day?"

"Dead last in the recommended exam. Only qualified because of Pro Hero Iceblade's insistence and his healing quirk. During the USJ, apparently, he ran out of power after about thirty minutes of intense fighting."

"That guy…" the president muttered, clenching her fist. "Fine. Lengthen UA's race track and the amount of people that get into the second round. Then, expand the time limit on the second round and the amount of teams. With how UA students are normally passionate about heroes, then we have to make him the largest target. Remove the million point headband, too."

"Then, for the third round?"

"...Let's get thirty two students in the final round. Since we expanded the second round, we'll need more people in the third. Hopefully, though, this Hans Christian Andersen gets eliminated before that."

…

Sitting beside a dumpster fire, a couple of people down on their luck sat glumly.

"I guess it's that time of the day again."

"Yeah." a man wearing a dusty suit and dirty leather shoes sighed, his skin slowly bubbling until it burst, as if it were like a pit of magma.

The flecks of gel-like skin were caught deftly by the villain's calloused hands and spread on his sword, where the sparks sizzled and slowly eroded away flecks of rust on the machete.

The silence continued. The single world response echoed throughout the hallway.

"How'd the job interview go, Shihiro-kun?" a guy in a beanie said.

"I was a fire hazard." the man in the suit said dully, another spark jumping off his gray, swirling, and unappealing skin. "Rejected."

"So, did anybody get anywhere today? Anybody make some bucks?"

"No." a woman with knives on her fingertips said, beginning to idly drumming her hand on a metal barrel.

"Nah." another woman said, her eyes tied up with a dark cloth.

Slowly, the bandanna began to freeze over, and she sighed as she closed her eyes, reached for another bandanna, and replaced the one on her eyes. Ice gathered on her closed eyelids as she made the transition, and when the bandanna was on once more, her hands went up to brush the forming ice from her eyes.

"When do we ever…" the man in the suit, Shihiro, droned, handing the machete to the guy in a beanie.

"I found a 100 yen coin on the ground." a guy with magnets as shins said, unraveling his pant leg and revealing the coin.

"So… to eat today, we have to score another mark, right?" the dark-haired, perfectly normal man in the beanie said.

"No." the man in the suit suddenly said, looking up at the setting sun that was framed in the dirty alleyways they sat in. "Do you know what I saw today?"

"What?"

"As I was walking out of that firm, my application turning into ash in my hands… I saw him." Shihiro said, looking up at the blue sky slowly getting overtaken by the burning red clouds of the night.

"It was playing everywhere on the store TV's. News sources across Japan were all talking about this hero student…"

"Hero student. What have heroes ever done for us?" the man in the beanie said. "I can get people not hiring my quirkless ass, but you all have talent! You went to college, Shihiro-kun! You were great at ice sculptures, Yuki-chan! And didn't you apply for art school, Hasanote-chan?"

"Heh. Art school." the woman with sharp fingertips said. "What a fucking scam. It turned out to literally be a scam, too."

"No place wanted to hire me." the blindfolded woman said. "It turns out that having an ice quirk that was on constantly was quite the liability risk."

"And me?" the beanie-wearing man said, pointing to himself depreciating, "I can't even be a villain! All I have is this machete, a wasted high school diploma, and two dead parents making me sell everything to cover up for their debts!"

"We don't have to score another deal, Tsukanai-kun." the blindfolded woman sighed. "We can go today without eating. I'm sure we'll have better luck at the homeless shelters tomorr-"

"It's been like this for. Three years. Three fucking years!" the beanie-wearing man shouted. "We've hugged Shihiro-kun for warmth during the winter, and had you unblindfolded during the summers, but what did we get for those three years of effort? An alleyway in the middle of nowhere, and having one hundred yen to our name!"

"Listen here." the blindfolded woman said, standing up unsteadily. "We came out of high school swearing that we wouldn't be like the others. We wouldn't kill, steal, sell drugs, or do anything illegal. We would prove to society that we wouldn't cause any trouble, despite our…"

"Fucking inconvenient quirks." Hasanote said, stabbing her fingertips into the bricks, before her muscles convulsed and she scooped the chunk of rock out of the wall, causing red dust to pour all over the floor.

"And where has that gotten us? I mean, you all were with me when we got that convenience store? We ate better than we have in months! Why don't we just-"

"Because that kid was like us." Shihiro said, standing up slowly. "He was short… and weak… and scrawny, but he stood up. He got into a hero program. He stood with people freeing the use of quirks. And… he even dissed the hero system."

"...What? Surely, you must be joking." Tsukanai muttered. "Why the fuck would he complain? He's benefiting from all of this… hero nonsense."

"And it's because of that, that I know that there are actually good people out there. Good people that know what we've been through, and good people that can actually see what this society is, instead of just living in it complacently." Shihiro said, his exterior bubbling excitedly.

"He isn't going to change anything." Tsukanai shouted. "No propaganda protecting the quirkless ever worked! Every time those inspectors left, those high schoolers just kept slamming me into their lockers."

"And if we do what they say, then it's just proving their point!" Shihiro erupted, a small plume of smoke erupting from his rocky head. Cracks showing lava became visible for a moment, before gravity acted once more.

"...Then how are we supposed to live? To eat?"

"...I don't know." Shihiro said. "But getting rid of those gangs to get their money isn't exactly illegal, is it?"

"With us?" Hasanote said, flexing her fingers. "You can't even do much other than shamble around. Snowwoman over there has to stare at things for at least three minutes for them to be frozen solid. Tsukanai is fucking quirkless."

"Yes, and? We can't possibly be doing worse."

"I like your style, Shihiro. I'll call up my pals from the construction site before the layoff, and let's do this thing."

"What should we call ourselves?"

"I don't know…" Shihiro said, shrugging. "It's probably a stupid idea, but let's just go with the Self Defense Cooperative."

…

Hans walked into school with a familiar noise ringing in his ear.

Social exclusion.

The targeted murmurs and "stealthy" looks (they weren't even trying to be discreet about it) were stabbing into him as if they were needles on his conscious awareness, but he knew why it was happening.

After all, he had badmouthed the glory of the hero industry while attending the greatest hero school in Japan. Figuratively poking the bear, one could say. Literally annoying the small bear that was the principal was a valid statement as well.

"Delusional, I said." Jiro said in the 1-A classroom. "He was spouting stuff about everything being a play and us as just actors to Ojiro, and now he says this? He's actually insane!"

"Honestly, I think that's something Bakugo would say, kero, with all his talk about extras." Asui said, her frog-like expression unreadable as always. Hans, however, squinted his eyes and detected a hint of amusement.

"That weak fucker just couldn't cut it in the hero course." Bakugo scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning on the back of his chair, with his feet propped up on the desk.

"Although I disagree with your statement, I do believe that what Andersen-san said was explicitly unheroic!" Iida said, arms chopping in the air.

"Yeah, that's about the reaction I expected." Hans said, sighing. "It's rather disappointing to see that nobody could think critically."

"Objectively speaking, your argument was… somewhat correct." a voice said from behind him. Hans quickly turned around and saw Yaoyorozu's suspicious smile. "Although you didn't mention the budget this time, which was definitely a plus."

"I knew that there was something I forgot." Hans said, grinning sarcastically. "Thanks for reminding me."

"...Why do I even bother." Yaoyorozu sighed. "But seriously, are you okay with just being… insulted like this?"

Hans looked at Bakugo parading his intellectual superiority and regaling the tale of how he beat down the lizard brother villains to a crowd of people that were only sort of listening.

"Don't worry about it." Hans said, shouldering his bag and entering the classroom. "As long as they don't criticize my literature, I probably won't lie down in one of your yards and cry myself to sleep."

"...That sounds oddly specific." Yaoyorozu said, raising an eyebrow, before muttering something about history.

"What was that?" Hans said, pausing his step towards the classroom.

"Nothing." Yaoyorozu said, showing a harmless grin. Hans didn't believe a single word she said.

"Is that really how the hero industry is?" another question resounded throughout the hallway. Hans looked up to see Ojiro, who hosted a rather intense look.

"Yeah. It is driven all around by money and quirk discrimination."

"Well, I believe you." Ojiro said simply.

"J…just like that?" Yaoyorozu said, almost shouting before restraining herself. "Did you even watch his speech?"

"I just saw a commentary article online." Ojiro said, shrugging. "It would probably be better for me to keep practicing my spins. I was… pretty outclassed at the USJ, and adding some power would really be helpful."

Hans's mind shot back to where Ojiro tried to fight the villains with his unnecessarily acrobatic maneuvers.

"...About that." Hans said. "I might have something in mind for that."

"S-sorry…" Ojiro stammered. "I was just-"

"Don't worry about it." Hans shrugged. "I have some training planned for you all. The sport fes-"

"What do I hear about training?" Kirishima said, running up from the opposite side of the hall, his bookbag flailing in the air. "Count me in! You were so manly at the USJ, so learning from you would be great!"

"...You don't uh… take offense at my political opinions?" Hans said.

"Saving people shouldn't be about fame or glory." Kirishima said righteously. "It shouldn't be about the money, even though that would be nice. It should be showing our manly spirit and standing in front of innocent civilians to protect them."

"And that's your problem." Hans said. "I think you stand a little too much. I had to use my nob-I mean, quirk just to remind you to dodge."

"Then I'll work on that instead!" Kirishima said, grinning, before flexing his quirk. "But for now, let's get to class! I'm sure whoever is subbing for Aizawa-sensei will have something planned for us!"

"Why are you all dawdling out in the hallways." a familiar, dry voice said, causing Yaoyorozu to flinch and Kirishima to slowly turn.

"Aizawa sensei!?" three of the four students shouted. Hans just looked at the mummy, and turned.

"Problem child."

Hans began to walk.

"You."

"Me?" Hans said, turning and tilting his head innocently. "What have I done wrong?"

"You do know that you'll probably be scorned by pro heroes and students alike if you continue to go on the path you are now, right? Should I just expel you right now?"

"But then…" Hans said, grinning, "You would be acknowledging my statements as controversial, and then giving a portion of society proof that the Hero Commission is actually trying to control them by propagating discrimination."

"If you don't want to get a hero… then get out yourself." Aizawa droned on. "But whatever. I don't care. There are always general studies students that would want to take your spot."

"Ah, yes." Hans nodded. "During the sports festival, right?"

"The what?" the three other students shouted, prompting looks from inside the classroom.

"What was that?" Iida shouted. "Sensei, please repeat yourself."

"The sports festival."

"Right after the USJ?"

Hans sighed. Had none of them turned on a television or used the internet yesterday? And if they didn't, how did they hear about his speech? Seriously. The ads were everywhere.

…Maybe that was why they didn't think that the hero industry ran on money.

…

"So this is class 1-A." a smug voice rang out just as Hans was about to leave for the cafeteria, carrying some leftover fried porkchop from the police station freebies. "Some of you are... so arrogant. But some of you don't exactly belong here, do you?"

"Why you-" Ojiro said, his tail flexing its muscles as if preparing for a fight.

"No, no, down." Hans said. "This isn't an argument to be fought with force."

"Isn't it now?" the blonde kid standing in front of a gathering crowd said. "If you can't defeat villains, how are you supposed to be a hero? What really happened during the USJ, huh?"

"Well, it depends on how you think about it." Hans said, stepping out and crossing his arms. "In arguments, you can't just solve problems with your fists."

"And you're avoiding the question about the USJ, huh? You just couldn't handle the responsibility, could you? Being a hero is about being a symbol. Being somebody that upholds safety and eliminates crime. You?" the blonde idiot that wasn't Bakugo said, smirking. "You're just a fraud. You're only denouncing fame because you can't get any of it."

Hans thought about the teleporter, how easily Thirteen got knocked out, and everything else that happened, before scratching his head. Did this guy even know what he was talking about?

"That is literally not what I said." Hans said, deciding to ignore the nonsensical statements about the USJ. "And besides, I'm an author that got canceled by the Hero Commission. I made the news like, three years ago? I think? So to be perfectly honest, I don't care about fame or glory, since getting on the news only really hurts me. However, you're only making this statement to prove a point to the school, in order to fuel your inferiority complex because your class's letter is one behind ours."

"You little-"

"Let's be real. The hero system is broken. It's a miracle that society even survives on mercenaries who are paid based on how many criminals they slap in the face. You all are here because of your pretty, shiny quirks that were praised for all of your lives. What about the others? The one that fell to the wayside? The ones that are judged villainous just because people like you exist and act like you're the savior of the world?"

There was silence. A boy with purple, frizzy hair in the crowd looked at Hans strangely, so Hans stopped looking at the crowd and returned to eviscerating the idiot in front of him.

"Every year, hundreds of new heroes are released on the market basically as idols, you know?" Hans said. "You'll just be one figurine amongst the rest of them, endlessly toiling away for society's approval, while the population that you keep oppressing eventually will rise up, gather up powers in the shadows, and destroy the status quo you've lived your whole illusion of a life in. What a worthless existence."

"I'll show how worthless you really are… during the sports festival!" the blonde-hair kid said, his grin looking increasingly fake. Hans grinned. He knew that he was getting under the teen's skin.

"Yeah!" a boy with gray hair and…something around his eyes said, clenching his fists and roaring towards the ceiling. "You unheroic bastards better watch out!"

"Who are you calling-" Bakugo said, roaring.

"I'm not talking about all of you, by the way. Just some of you." the gray-haired boy said. "I think we all have a common enemy here."

"Yeah." Bakugo snarled, "We can agree on that."

Collectively, the crowd left after the blonde idiot spat at Hans's feet. Bakugo roughly shoved past Hans as he passed, his red eyes filled with mirth as he looked back at Hans on his slightly scraped knees. Midoriya shot a commiserating look at Hans, before walking over to help him out.

"I'm sure that y-you think you're right, Andersen-san!" he stammered. "But society needs a symbol to guide them, and heroes are great for that!"

"Oh, you naive, summer child." Hans said, chuckling. "Keep on dreaming."

"Okay, uhm, uh, thanks?" Midoriya said, confused expression on his face. He rejoined Iida and Uraraka, shrugged, and then left for the cafeteria.

The three remaining students in the classroom walked up to Hans, looking at the receding crowd. Many passing students still jeered at the blue-haired child standing still in the ray of sunlight that shined through the window.

"Are you okay, Andersen-san?" Yaoyorozu said.

"Honestly? Yeah." Hans said, putting his hands in his pocket. "And I didn't really plan on doing well in the Sports Festival anyways. So, in the end, does it really matter?"

Slowly, the three students looked at each other, a…rather absurd thought forming in their minds.

Didn't expect that, did you? Normally, people giving speeches like this and suffer absolutely no consequence (like Shirou roasting pro heroes or something, but it's perfectly normal in class afterwards). But now? We have socially excluded Hans.

For the crying in somebody else's yard thing, Hans Christian Andersen did cry in Charles Dickens's yard after receiving a negative review on his stories in actual history.

That was fun to read about. He was also a horrible houseguest, but for your mental safety, I'd advise not looking up historical Hans.

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

Aha! Another chapter! Be prepared for a training montage! Are you ready? Playing some inspirational music like the 2nd OP to BNHA? Are you?

Sorry. It's the one time I get to write like a shounen fic author.

-SpiritOfErebus

"You want… to train for the sports festival? That useless thing?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow.

"You implanted a memory in my head about beating an octopus before, right, Andersen-san?" Ojiro said. "Surely, you can put, I don't know, a couple of days of training in our heads, right?"

Hans paced back and forth, looking at the three.

"Sure. I'll make a training plan for you all for a month. I still don't understand why you're doing this, though."

"To beat the system, we must first become integral parts of the system." the three said in unison, as if they had rehearsed the phrase.

And they had. In order to convince Hans to help them, they had to come up with a valid reason from Hans's viewpoint.

But the real reason why they were training was very different…

Hans was bitter. He was angry. But most importantly… he had low self esteem. For some reason, Kirishima recognized that first out of the three.

What Hans said about society was correct. The unnecessary emphasis of fame on Heroes was causing more harm than good, and being a hero shouldn't be about the fame anyways. All three of them agreed on that.

However, there was no reason why Hans should just… go ahead and give up on the sports festival. Without establishing himself as somebody that could succeed, he wouldn't be able to truly say that fame didn't matter without having it himself. If it was a bitter, sore loser saying that statement out of spite, that wouldn't be… exactly great… at proving his point.

Therefore, they had to be able to push Hans through the first and second rounds, both with cutoff quotas that mostly mirrored the numbers of thirty two and sixteen. Then, he could prove himself in the mostly individual third rounds while aiming to roast people he hadn't roasted yet, namely Bakugo. Even Yaoyorozu could see the many, many character defects in Bakugou that were so obvious they practically waved hello every time she met him, and Hans would probably enjoy doing something like that.

But all of that necessitated the ability of the three to carry Hans through the first and second rounds.

Looking at Hans now, all they could see was Hans muttering and tapping on his tablet, muttering something about "showing Merlin what real hero creation was like", or something.

"I'll get back to you tomorrow." Hans said, his eyes suddenly intense and bloodshot. "And if you fail the sports festival after what I'm about to do, you may as well get out of this school."

…

After posting an announcement on his story that he wouldn't be updating today, Hans chugged down a can of coffee, disregarded his math homework, and began to work.

"A month of training…"

First, he had to jailbreak their quirks. Sadly, Hans didn't know a single thing about doing things like that. Maybe if there was somebody in their class that was obsessed with quirks, Hans could probably ask them, but all they had was an idiot that carried around a notebook and couldn't even figure out their own basic strength quirk.

Just distribute the strength around your body if you can't handle it in one limb, idiot!

Anyways, Hans knew little in the way of training. Most authors "trained" by reading a ton of books, but that wasn't exactly training, was it?

But he had been told about a certain narcissistic martial artist's training back in Chaldea… and was a reluctantly admitted rival with another crazy magus…

There was an idea…

Hans sat down, and began to reminisce about the time spent in that madhouse.

…

"You said you trained a thousand students, but so what? Your students ended up working for the communists and Chiang Kai Shek, following in your footsteps as government dogs. So, what did you really leave behind other than a terrifying reputation?"

Li Shuwen fell silent. He raised his hands to speak several times, before defaulting back to standard martial artist talk.

"I could crush your sternum with one punch."

"That still doesn't change the fact that you were just a failure of a teacher." Hans said, smirking and leaving.

After that, Hans suffered through several long, rambling lectures by a normally taciturn old man about how to train martial arts students.

Oh, curse his habits of roasting everybody he sees!

…

"And what's with that pathetic self image?" Hans said, looking at the smiling face of Leonardo Da Vinci. "Mimicking the wife of a merchant that asked you for a painting… There are plenty of good paintings, but the only reason you chose that form is because it's the most famous! Your standards of beauty are as surface level as the proletariat you claim to have better taste than."

Needless to say, what followed were many explanations about art history and mystic code design.

Sometimes, Hans couldn't help but speak up.

"...And another thing! Why exactly does Master need to wear spandex?" Hans said, looking at the jumpsuit that was supposedly a "switch mystic code". "Wouldn't spending your time on a personal defense system be better? Or some lightweight armor that I'm certain a caster class servant can make. I mean, just look at the Bronze Link Manipulators that keep popping up in the summoning chamber. If a normal magus can make something that useful, then why can't you?"

There were a lot of drones that began to harass him after that, mostly in the shape of Da Vinci's owl.

Oh, curse his habits of roasting everybody he sees… again!

…

It was in the depths of two in the morning that Hans finally looked up from the stack of papers piled on his desk. He shook his head and held out his hand. The Ice Queen sleepily handed him a block of ice, which he placed against his temples for a quick wake-up call.

"I'm done?" Hans muttered, looking down at the attempts at making impressions of the two servants in the different scenes, along with the understandings that he had of his classmates.

"Will… this work?" Hans thought, thinking back at his attempts at writing a five minute backstory for Ojiro, and that weird inspirational one for Kirishima.

It'll… probably work, right?

…

Hans shook himself awake. Balefully, he looked up at the three hero students still looking down at him in the classroom.

"Why are you all here?"

"You fell asleep five minutes ago. We thought you were… preparing." Ojiro said.

"It was you that didn't want us to wake him up." Yaoyorozu said, smiling thinly. "Can we… start now?"

"Before I start, are you sure that you all want me to do this? This could mess with your head… Cause backstory dysphoria… You know…"

Yaoyorozu looked at Kirishima and Ojiro, slightly concerned.

"Did you guys feel any of that?"

"Just a bit confused." Ojiro shrugged.

"I didn't feel any side effects, I guess." Kirishima said. "Just… really inspired."

"Okay." Yaoyorozu said, nodding. "We'll do it."

"Fine, fine." Hans said. "This should take just about five minutes total. You'll go in there, train for a month, and then leave."

"I'm not sure I understand…How long will this take?" Kirishima said, raising an eyebrow. "The sports festival is coming up pretty soon, you know? A month may be too long."

"It'll just be five minutes. Weren't you listening?" Hans said, slightly irritated" And are we starting or not?"

Hans took out his tablet, and with a snap of his fingers, blue pages began to pour out of the screen, swirling around the three.

And kept swirling.

And kept… swirling.

"How much did you write!?" Yaoyorozu shouted as the swirling papers began to converge.

"...Way too much." Hans sighed. "Have fun in there. Hopefully, you'll enjoy the selection of mentors."

"Wait, wha-"

…

Three in-memory days later

…

"Faster!"

The unreasonably spry old man said, overlooking the three with an impassive eye. His black sunglasses glittered in the unrealistic sunlight as Yaoyorozu, Kirishima, and Ojiro sweated.

"Stronger!"

"Haaah!"

The three yelled in unison, throwing their fists forward. Yaoyorozu felt the air curving around her arms, felt every muscle in her leg and shoulder flex as she tried to emulate the old man's form.

Or, should she say… Li Shuwen. Apparently, this was a person that Hans had "known", and respected as a martial arts instructor.

"Hold that position!" Li grunted, pacing around the three.

"Good." he said, nodding down at Kirishima, who gave a shark-toothed grin in response. "But still too stiff! Loosen up your shoulders. Your arms are a flail, and your shoulders are the hands controlling it."

"Decent." he said. "You won't be going unarmed, given what information Hans has given me, but it's still good that you can throw a punch. And you…"

Ojiro whimpered.

"Who taught you that footwork!"

"M-my father…" Ojiro said, muttering while looking down at the floor. His karate uniform was soaked in sweat, but the old man wearing a fur coat and old-fashioned, long sleeved wear hadn't broken a sweat.

"He is a mere amateur." Li grunted. "And you still insist on sticking with his stance?"

"But my weight… It's unbalanced, sir." Ojiro said. "After all, my tail-"

"Third arm." Li said, looking at the muscular limb.

"-Third arm is… rather heavy."

"To properly learn martial arts, you must view it as a third arm!" the old man said sternly. "Martial arts aren't made for monkeys. . They're made for men! Monkeys have tails and men have arms! And I'll make a man out of you both… Go for mechanics practice, by the way, Yaoyorozu. You're not needed here anymore"

Yaoyorozu nodded, before sending a commiserating nod towards the two still in the room.

"I'll teach you these lessons if I have to beat them into you! Special powers are no reason to slack on martial arts training! Or adjust the techniques that I've perfected for years!"

"But my hardening quirk can-"

Kirishima flew through the dojo wall.

"Footwork!" Li roared.

Yaoyorozu sighed numbly. This was the third day in a row in which that had happened to Kirishima. She opened another door in front of her and stepped in just as the wall began to miraculously repair itself.

But what followed next was probably even worse than martial arts training. It was something that was truly mentally taxing.

Working with a person that looked like the Mona Lisa that claimed they were an interpretation of Da Vinci was that task.

Because what sane person would be able to design such dubious constructions that somehow worked? And claimed that magic actually existed?

"I know what you're thinking." the woman said, smiling thinly. "You're much more tolerable than that insolent fool Hans Christian Andersen. Your questions don't sting in the slightest."

"Why are you saying his full name, by the way?" Yaoyorozu said, picking up a blueprint and inspecting what circuit she was supposed to practice making instantaneously today.

"Hmm, well… It all started with… Wait, I can't say it?"

"Yes." an image of Hans appeared, floating in the air as if it were an actual spirit. "I didn't want any of our backstories getting out and confusing everybody, obviously."

"The real reason was probably your laziness." Da Vinci said, grinning in a predatory fashion. Yaoyorozu could empathize with her. Getting a verbal win over Hans was a rarity.

"I'm not real here." the image of Hans said. "I'm just a preprogrammed message. Well, I'll leave you to your lessons."

Yaoyorozu sighed and returned back to the blueprints. She never once thought she would dislike learning about construction.

…

Kirishima flexed his hand, hardened it, and blocked yet another punch, before dragging it towards himself and hardening his whole body.

"Ojiro! Now!" he yelled, bracing for impacts.

Hand chops came at his neck. Hits met his rib cage and his sides. As he felt his armor capitulating, Ojiro took advantage of Li Shuwen being trapped and attacked, going for the knees with his tail and his one arm with his two arms.

"At least you all can do basic strategizing." Li said approvingly. "Much better than those berserker meatheads."

Li used the hardened Kirishima as a stand, before using the leg entangled by Ojiro's tail to throw Ojiro around. Then, with his free left arm, he brought a fist to Kirishima's chest… and executed what had to be a very awkward yet effective one inch punch.

Kirishima's skin cracked as it impacted, the impact webbing all over his skin as he slid back three meters, his legs still fixed into a stable stance as his sharp toes scratched into the soft, padded floors.

"You actually forced me to use twenty percent of my strength." Li said. "Not bad. But while your armor is rendered invalid, your ally will be vulnerable. Look closely and remember Ojiro, with the right amount of skill and technique, it does not matter if your opponent has skin of steel, you will still deal damage."

"No." Kirishima said, gritting his teeth. His skin had indeed cracked, but so what? He still had his dermis. And fatty tissue layers. And muscles. And… whatever layers that lay underneath the epidermis. "I'm not done yet."

"I admire your tenacity, but can you tolerate the pain?" Li Shuwen said, his old-fashioned sunglasses glinting in the bright lights. "I will no longer hold back with my technique, though you will not see my full strength. It is to teach you exactly how far you have yet to go."

Ojiro looked at Kirishima. "Are you sure you can handle it?"

"This much is nothing." Kirishima said, grinning. Small bits of blood ran off the cracks of his skin and into the mats, but it was just superficial damage. Most of his body still wasn't damaged, and he could still keep going!

Of course, that illusion was shattered once his shoulder's bone was almost broken in two from a glancing blow.

"Too firm of a defense is also a liability!" Li roared, as Kirishima slowly got back to his senses. "The reason why humans can take so many hits is that they have steely rigidity within the softness of flowing water! Seek the balance! The yin and yang!"

"Yes, sir…" he mumbled, shielding his eyes from the light shining in from the white void above.

…

"Again, you probably know this, but this is a recorded message." Hans's voice said dully. "So either I would have to write myself into this training scene, or I could just, well, jailbreak your quirks from brainstorming fight scenes.

"Yaoyorozu? Your quirk should focus on making technology and tools of assassination. Guns are good, and guns are great. I forgot about this thing midway through and I'm not adding Fuuma in here. I also have no idea how his training works, so I'll just show you a ton of assassins battling it out and put the memory of those types of movements in your head."

Yaoyorozu looked down at her hands. Was she really going to need to become an assassin?

"Also, drones are great. You can keep mass producing them and have a headset that directs their motions where they can self-destruct on their targets. They even can track their targets if you set up a beacon thing that remotely controls them or something. Programming would be an obstacle, though, but I'm sure you can have some sort of USB you can carry around and plug into the drones or something. You could always find time in the real world to buy a really great drone design that somehow bypasses this, but I should stop rambling.

"Ninja training?" Kirishima said, slowly smiling. "Hey, that sounds pretty nice. Maybe we could get in on that action."

"Now, I know what you're thinking." Hans said, looking at where Ojiro was sitting. "Did you really think that you can accommodate the assassin style? For some of you, yes. But for you? No. Your quirk doesn't really give you an advantage in mobility."

"Is he… really speaking to me?" Ojiro said, whispering to Kirishima.

"I don't know."

"Oh, wait, Kirishima, are you sitting there? If you are, then good. If you aren't then… I'll just…"

The image of Hans turned and scribbled something, and Kirishima felt his seat switch with Ojiro's suddenly, a flash of blue punctuating the only change in the atmosphere.

"Why couldn't I have just changed my script?" Hans muttered. "Why did I write it in pen? Why am I writing my mistakes down?"

Yaoyorozu giggled.

"Okay, I'll be real. I'm really sleep deprived right now, so I'll make this quick. Ojiro? Your quirk is… pretty average. Yes, I'm making a joke about how average it is."

Ojiro's tail drooped down, falling flat against the floor.

"Come to think of it, why is it covered in skin? Why not like fur or something? Doesn't it get itchy or cold or something? Nevermind that. You just need to keep up your martial arts training. What makes your tail special is you. And the countless hours you'll have to spend on actually making yourself useful. But don't forget to, well, use a tail like animals. They can be interesting inspiration sources."

"And what about me?" Kirishima said, flexing one arm while clenching his fist in the other. It sort of looked like he was flexing both arms, but if one suffered in this training hell for long enough, then one could tell the difference."

"Oh, wait, and for Yaoyorozu, why do you eat cakes for lipids? They're almost all carbohydrates. Try eating some tallow. Or animal oils. Have you tried keeping a flask of oil on you? Just a thought."

Yaoyorozu turned to the other two. "What's this tallow he speaks of? My family doesn't cook very often, and-"

"We get it." Ojiro and Kirishima sighed. "You're rich."

Yaoyorozu sighed as well. "Why am I just so… ignorant?"

"Before you collapse into a self-doubting mess, Yaoyorozu, don't worry. Those two are only pretending to know what it is too. Hell, I found out with a Google search." Hans said, shrugging. "And for Kirishima..."

Kirishima perked up after having his small fib told to the unfortunate patient of affluenza.

"Have you considered using your quirk like a knife? A axe? Can you control what shapes your skin hardens into? That could potentially be really useful, you know? Like, making smooth edges and curved edges instead of being a block optimal for taking hits at full capacity?"

"That's what my quirk is made for, though! Taking hits!" Kirishima shouted.

From outside of the room, an old man leapt through the window, kicked Kirishima in the shins, and leapt out again.

"Footwork!" Li Shuwen shouted. "I have never had a student as daft as you!"

"I put that in, by the way." Hans said dully, as another illusion behind Kirishima's back. "Anytime you say something like that, Li Shuwen will come here and kick you in the shins."

…

The twenty-ninth day was here. Through the haze of training, heckling, and Kirishima getting kicked in the shin until day twenty five, this… was the final day of the test.

Their bodies had not sustained any damage. This was basically a dream, after all.

"So… What will we be doing today? Where's the schedule?"

"Tha schedzhule fer today is wombat trainin'" the image of Hans slurred. "Oim wei too sleep depraved."

With a flash, the scene changed. The background faded to interchanging patches of white blankness and grasslands.

Then, a gigantic stone monster erupted from the ground. Its six fingers and and three arms gave the distinct impression that not a lot of thought was put into the final day.

"Okay. Let's do this." Yaoyorozu said, making herself a pair of standard issue camo military pants and a rather short tank top. Daggers sprouted from her hands, and drones slowly began to pop out of her shoulder. Then, she began to upload simple programs into said drones with a USB.

Kirishima's preparations weren't complex at all. He just cracked his neck and grinned, getting into a fighter's stance.

Ojiro basically mimicked Kirishima, but instead of standing on his legs, he was bouncing around on his tail, ready to perform mobile maneuvers.

The stone monster opened its maw, and-

Yaoyorozu sat up, drones still popping out from her shoulder. Ojiro sprung up into the ceiling, dislodged several ceiling tiles, and got stuck in the gridwork. Kirishima slammed his elbow down on the ground so hard that the ground cracked.

"Oh!" Hans shouted, pushing off the eyemask he had been wearing. "I swear I'll update! I swea- Thi-this is UA. I haven't been kidnapped by angry readers…yet."

There was just silence. The two on the floor and the one on the ceiling just stared at Hans before they sprang into action once more.

"It teleported us! Kirishima, shield!" Ojiro yelled, breaking free of the ceiling and holding out his arms defensively, looking right and left. Kirishima reflexively flexed his forearms, creating a much smoother surface on his arms than he was capable of before.

"Ah, good. You're finally awake." Hans said drowsily, forcing himself from pacing around the two and looking up at Ojiro. "Any brain damage? Can you all still think?"

"Where's the stone monster?" Ojiro said, narrowing his eyes.

"Why are we in UA? Did the background finally load in?" Kirishima muttered, slowly turning himself to the left. Ojiro mirrored his motion, keeping their backs in a back to back position while continuously surveying the room.

"Wait. This is in the real world." Yaoyorozu said. "Look! Hans doesn't look like he's been described by a sleep deprived high schooler anymore!"

"Addressing me by my first name, now?" Hans said. "Whatever. I don't really care. You all are clearly okay. Just… pay for the ceiling, alright? And we have a math test tomorrow."

Hans walked out of the room, rubbing his eyes.

"Test?"

"What math test?" Kirishima said.

"Don't look at me." Ojiro said, shrugging. "It's been a month. What's today's date, anyways?"

Yaoyorozu looked up at a digital clock.

"Hmm…" she said. "To be perfectly honest, I don't remember. Wait, Hans! What day is it?"

"It's time for you to get a calendar."

…

It was time for Todoroki to leave. He had seen everything.

The hallways seemed to stretch out forever as he stared at the four people that had just popped out of a random classroom after five minutes of dead silence, two loud crashing noises, a lot of shouting, and then nothing.

"What else could there be…" Todoroki muttered, "But a cult of personality?"

…

That chapter should be a pretty lighthearted one, right? A far cry from all of the roasting that's been going on in the previous chapters.

At least one of the source material things are shounen. I thought I'd bend to that part of the narrative.

It's a bit scatterbrained, but it's a training montage. Normally, this would take like… two minutes in an anime. And I've given you all a chapter of this thing. Well, this is it. Chapter seventeen…

Yay…

Chapter Text

I worked on a Bedivere fic and forgot to continue to crosspost this. Have fun!

...

This chapter took a while…

Remember the OCs from 2 chapters ago? Here we go again, with their strange Hans-inspired goals…

It's continuing…

-SpiritOfErebus

"This is possibly the… most dubious coverup for a gang that I've seen, Shihiro-kun."

"What?" Shihiro said to the group hunched around the library computer. His stony fingers clicked heavily against the keyboard, making the librarian wince.

It was still probably better than Hasanote, given the fact that she had knives sheathed on her fingertips.

"This is a totally valid proposal. All we have to do to start a protection ring is to get everybody on the street to be a part time employee of the SDL, and send them on a company sponsored trip to their own homes. This way, because companies are responsible for worker safety on trips, any person we hire as a bodyguard can act in order to safeguard their clients or their possessions."

"...They haven't changed that law?" Yuki, the woman wearing a constantly frosting-over blindfold, said.

"And, more importantly, can we use quirks?" Hasanote said, crossing her arms.

"...I mean, self defense laws? We just have to constantly be recording so that we can show evidence that they attacked first."

"...And how will we get… phones? And establish ourselves as a corporate entity?"

"...That's a very, very good question." Shihiro said. "Now, who here has a good credit score?"

"Not me." Tsukanai, the person that made up the 20% quirkless quota not seen anywhere else in a hypothetical show about this world, said immediately.

…

Shihiro had gone to college, and had not managed to pay back his student loans. Therefore, rubbing his forehead bubbling with lava, he sat in front of the bank.

Hasanote had tried to go to art school, and that turned out extremely well. After all, she wasn't addicted to drugs or dedicated to megalomania, like most failing artists. Still, she had borrowed some money, and probably didn't have a good credit score.

The less said about Tsukanai's family debt, the better.

Therefore, the only person with an almost ideal credit score, Yuki, a girl who had gone out on her own to try and live in the big city, was theoretically not homeless (since her parents still actually had a house), had a mailing address, was never arrested, had a relatively mild quirk compared to most people, and had never borrowed money.

Therefore, despite her being blindfolded, she was still the best option. As she walked in, looking through the thin layer of dark cloth that made up her bandanna, she was immediately accosted by the bank's tellers, bypassing a line filled with irritated customers withdrawing their money out of indignation for the bank's harsh employee policies.

"Sir, how do you think your work-life balance has been affected by the bank's harsh policies?"

A string of stereo sounds came out of the man's mouth. A speaker on the side of the accountant said No Comment in a monotonous voice.

"Ma'am, do you have anything to say about the recent controversies?"

"I…I…." a short figure squeaked.

"Yes?"

"I'm just a janitor!" The girl that was literally a blob of water walking around collapsed into a puddle, before gathering back in the absorbent mop and reforming her body.

"Should I be worried about that?" Yuki said, looking at all of the scavenger-like reporters hounding the employees for any complaints about their potentially exploitative managers.

"No, ma'am. Now, follow me. Somebody would want to talk to you."

…

"We'll be glad to support your business, Yuki Chozono." the branch manager said, looking at the blindfold. "And would you be willing to take a picture with us as a part of our disability support program for growing entrepreneurs?"

"But I'm not-" Yuki began.

"It's a great opportunity." the executive said, adjusting his collar. "Besides, it's probably close enough," he muttered. "Nobody will be able to tell the difference, anyways."

"I really don't want to get onto the news or something."

"Nonsense!" the branch manager said, grinning at a person that probably was blind. "We'll… support your future investments if your business does indeed do well."

And so, she walked out of the bank two hours later with a small loan of 1,400,000 yen. Which honestly sounded like a lot, but it was barely enough to pay for rent for two months in an urban apartment.

Having been answering interviews about how the bank was now suddenly supporting disabled entrepreneurs, she was now thoroughly exhausted.

"You got the cash?" Hasanote said, her knife fingers clicking menacingly.

"Calm down there, Edward Scissorhands." Shihiro grumbled. "You're making us sound like bandits."

"Aren't we basically bandits, though?" Tsukanai said cheerfully. "Let's go get this Self Defense Company started up!"

"...I, uh, submitted the name Stationary Distribution Company." Yuki said timidly. "And they gave me a credit card and an account too, so… yay?"

"Indeed." Shihiro said calmly. "Let's go get our video equipment and set up basic operations."

…

Shihiro knocked on the door, his stony fist making strange, hammer-like sounds.

The door slowly creaked open.

"Mommy!" a little girl shouted. "There's a strange man that looks like a bunch of lava at the door!"

"Close the door! I'll call the police!" the woman panicked.

"No luck?" Tsukanai panted, after the four ran into a nearby dark alleyway.

"What do you think?" Shihiro said peevishly.

…

"Get a job, you lazy scammers!" A salaryman in the middle of a phone call shouted as he opened the door, holding one hand over the phone's speakers to cut off his own voice from the call.

"That's just a pyramid scheme or something to make you fast money, isn't it?"

"But this is just-" Yuki began.

The man slammed the door. As the business phoe call continued inside the house, and Yuki slowly walked away from the door, dejected.

…

"...And for just 1000 yen a month, you can support one person to-"

"I'm not interested." the inhabitant said, looking at the sheathed knife hands that held the poster.

"At least take the flier." Hasanote said, a pleading look in her eyes. "This is just-"

A door was abruptly slammed shut in her face.

"If you really want money, just rob people, you damn villain wannabe! Stop interrupting our lives!"

The flier slowly crumpled up in her hand.

"...Maybe we're going about this wrong." Shihiro said, his skin sizzling in the light drizzle over their part of town. "This probably wasn't a great idea. Perhaps we shouldn't be making money off of this."

"Then what?" Hasanote said. "Stop holding out your stupid ideology thing, then! What feeds us, then? Robbing people? What's justice in the face of starvation?"

"...I…"

"What?" Hasanote said, looking at dribbles of magma slowly and steadily plop down on the pavement.

"I don't know, okay?" Shihiro sobbed. "Everything's just so… confusing. I can't get a job out of college. I can't get a job, even as a clerk. I can't borrow money, everybody thinks we're villains, and now what we've been doing is just horribly impractical. Everything's going downhill…"

The group sat underneath the apartment complex's roof, looking up at the rain, their blue and yellow fliers slowly losing color in the rain.

"Something will change, right?" Yuki said. "Something surely will."

…

"...So, our target population is now… construction workers?" Tsukanai said. "They don't seem like they can actually afford anything."

"And we're not selling anything." Hasanote reasoned. "Would you pay for somebody to protect you?"

"Hell no!" Tsukanai said. "If they're going to make me pay, I might as well do it myself."

"But what if you get arrested? What if you keep getting arrested by the authorities for just defending yourself?"

"These guys are constantly taxed by villain groups that basically force them around as contract labor, you know?"

"Why don't they just… you know…" Tsukanai said, gesturing vaguely with his machete.

"I've heard rumors of the police being bribed by them to arrest people every time somebody not in the yakuza uses their quirk. And every time a small-time hero comes around for a bit, it's extremely quiet and nobody believes the workers, so they leave because of the supposed lack of villain activity."

"How do you know all of this?" Shihiro said, somewhat recovered from his earlier breakdown. "And why didn't you tell us this earlier?"

"Hey. I was pretty good in school. I can do basic analysis. Besides, some of my old pals live around here."

"...That still doesn't answer why you didn't tell us before."

"Because we're going to be fucking useless here!" Hasanote said. "We're just people! People ostracized by society. What are we supposed to do, fight the mafia?"

"...Yes?" Tsukanai said, hefting his machete.

Hasanote opened her mouth, then closed it.

"Yeah." she said slowly. "With our contract, we can actually fight villains in self defense legally. We can do this without getting arrested!"

From the crumpled flier in her hand, the blue-haired chibi she drew as a mascot looked up at her judgmentally.

…

"This… can let us fight back?" the grimy, skinny construction head wearing a yellow hard hat said within the dimly lit apartment complex.

"I… think? At least we can actually take this to court." Shihiro said, looking at the contract again. The paper smoldered a bit, but at least it was illuminating the hazy darkness of the rooms.

"We can't sign any other jobs, though."

"This isn't a full time job. We thought of that. You can take both a part time and a full time job, anyways." Hasanote said, grinning. "So, what'll it be? Do you want to sign so that you can fight back?"

"But… they're the yakuza. They've been fighting and collecting from us for years! They take the strongest amongst us and induct them into the organization."

"We have one advantage."

"What?"

"We have nothing to lose."

There was dead silence now. The workers bustling about and whispering about petulant outsiders began to listen in.

"What can they possibly take from us? This house? Our shitty lives? What are we doing? You all are working day in and day out for literal scammers who sort of own you through harsh working conditions. And they hardly pay you at all."

"I'd honestly rather be homeless." some person said lightly. "But I'm stuck in this god damn contract!"

"Trust me." Hasanote said, sighing. "You do not."

"My family still lives in this neighborhood… I don't want my kid to live like this forever…"

"As Karl Marx said, we have nothing to lose but our chains!" Hasanote proclaimed proudly.

"Does every art student also remember history like she does?" Yuki muttered.

"No, she was just a nerd. You can barely see that part of her personality now, can you?" Shihiro whispered back.

"...Who is that?" somebody asked.

"Hmm… well, there's also a chinese saying that basically says broke people need not fear the rich! What are they going to take from us, huh?"

"Our lives… or almost unpaid labor?"

"Fuck it!" the worker said. "Everybody, let's sign that contract and go on strike!"

…

…

"Why do we have a flier for stationary slipped under the door crack?" Hans shouted at his parents, who were both still asleep from a long day of slaving away somewhere in an office building far away from their actual home.

The S.D.C printed on it actually seemed very well designed, along with the imagery of a mascot that had blue hair and wore glasses… that looked suspiciously like him… holding a pen and smiling cheerfully.

Hans shrugged and munched on some cereal. It wouldn't be the first time somebody didn't credit him in their work.

Out of curiosity, flipping the "Stationary Distribution Company"'s flier over revealed something… much weirder.

"What the hell is a Self Defense Corporation?" Hans muttered, reading out the contents of the flier. "For a small membership fee, you will be entitled to an employee fieldtrip straight to your location, where the company's hired bodyguards will be responsible for your safety at all times? Isn't this just a protection bracket?"

Hans slumped back into his seat and began to munch on his cereal once again. Why was there a gang in town, too?

To be perfectly honest, there was a bit of a conundrum. His grandfather's self-perpetuating cancer… had worsened.

It was partially due to his grandfather's quirk, which had lasted him throughout the troubled century's latter half, that was the cause of his misfortune now.

The quirk that resisted sickness and some effects of age by letting his grandfather "stay in character", therefore both letting "character traits" such as being free of sickness and not panicking during villain attacks stick, was also very vulnerable to slow, chronic diseases. A cancer that had probably begun in his thirties was now constantly threatening to kill him.

What was worse was that his quirk incorporated having cancer into his character traits, and thus resisted all medication.

It was also the quirk that may have given his whole family book-related quirks.

The overtime that his parents were doing aimed to cover the cost of treating those suddenly worsening conditions, now that the cancer had finally been able to progress into its later stages.

Hans bit into his cereal in a melancholic fashion. If only there was a way to make money faster… If only the people who made that mascot gave him just a little bit of royalties, perhaps he could actually do something instead of exhaust funds by going to a somewhat expensive hero school.

"Come to think of it, why can't we just use our quirks to improve productivity?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, it would… increase the flow of goods… and decrease prices… Why am I thinking about this? I'm not an economist."

As he idly drew the curves for supply and demand on his desk, he suddenly sat up.

"Oh, god damn it!" he shouted. "I have a math test today!"

…

Walking out of the classroom, Hans put his hands in the pockets of his school trousers and sighed, fidgeting with the lining on his pockets.

He had failed. He had failed everything there was to fail. He was done. Everything was over now.

…The math test had been completely devastating. Every single equation was a mystery. Every bit of numbers was lost amidst the sea of things he had written just two nights before.

But the worst part was? His scholarship and discount to UA depended on him keeping good grades. Other subjects weren't that difficult, but math…

Math was an exception.

Something about the numbers did not sit right with Hans, an author, which sort of made sense, considering the difference in nature between the two.

Slowly, the rest of the class staggered out of the classroom, having conferred about what they got on the test. One by one, they clumped up in their respective social groups and began to head towards the cafeteria.

The band of idiots he had hung out with yesterday gathered as well. Kirishima and Ojiro almost looked dazed. Yaoyorozu, however, was perfectly unfazed by the sudden influx of math.

"Damn, I've forgotten everything…" Kirishima muttered. "I really have to study up…"

"Yeah, I feel you, Ejirou." Ojiro said. "I almost forgot about those rate equations."

"Hey, Momo! How did you do?" Kirishima said, catching sight of Yaoyorozu walking towards the group.

"Compared to all of the drone studies that I had to perform in… that… This math was trivial." Yaoyorozu said, preening just a tiny bit.

"Yeah, you're the smart one in the group." Ojiro said, crossing his arms and nodding. "I'm the agile one, and Kirishima is the tank. But what is Hans?"

"I'm the poor one." Hans said, sighing. "And now, UA will probably be taking away my scholarship if I don't shape up in time for the exams. By the way, you're getting pretty chummy with each other, huh? First names already?"

"Aren't the exams… right after the sports festival?" Yaoyorozu said, ignoring the point about first names. "I mean, it's November, wait, no. It's October, I mean. That thing you wrote is messing with my head."

"Well, don't blame me." Hans said, crossing his arms. "You all were the ones who asked for it."

"I can still feel phantom pains all over my shins." Kirishima groaned. "You thought I'd be able to take all those hits with my quirk, but-"

Hans promptly kicked Kirishima in the unhardened shins.

"Footwork!" he roared, drawing some stares from his class.

"I didn't mean it this time!" Kirishima squealed, settling into a martial arts stance. "I was about to say how I shouldn't be taking all of those hits!"

From across the room, Todoroki slowly unboxed his cold soba, took out a pair of chopsticks, and slowly, very slowly, brought a couple of noodles up to his mouth. All the while, his gaze never strayed from the group.

Midoriya almost seemed like he wanted to talk to Hans about something, but his crippling social anxiety was getting in the way. One quick glare from Hans and he averted his eyes.

Looking at Midoriya's group, however, Hans… suddenly had a question.

"Hey, Uraraka, if we drop out of UA now to get a quirk work license, do you think it'll work?"

"Oh, uh… Well…" Uraraka said, a bit of surprise in her voice, before muttering. "I almost thought he was going to say more things about why hero society was bad. That scared me a bit."

"Yeah…" Midoriya squeaked. "Even though I do want to correct his views… I just can't talk to him! He's too intimidating!"

"What did you say?" Hans said, taking half a step towards Uraraka.

"I… haven't thought of it." Uraraka said hastily, slightly flustered now that she realized they were talking about her socioeconomic standing again.

"I mean, would a year of hero school be enough to fulfill the quirk training aspect? Doing it normally is very expensive, but maybe a year of hero school could work? If I drop out now, and go work at a hospital while attending an actually normal high school, I could probably be making more money and have better mental health."

"I-that's-hmmm…" Uraraka actually considered the proposition seriously. "Hey, you're right! I mean, all we really have to do is get our provisional license, and then we can apply for quirk work licenses!"

"Uraraka!" Midoriya said, looking at her in shock. "W-would you really do that?"

"Is that what you're planning, now?" Hans said, grinning. "I'm glad to see at least there are some intelligent people in the class! One semester in UA is probably cheaper than going through all those courses, huh?"

"No! Wait! B-but being a hero is obviously more important! Yeah! Being a hero! Is not money oriented! ...I'll just be going now." Uraraka said, deflecting the question. "See you around!"

Quickly, Uraraka ushered Midoriya and Iida out of the room, much to their concern and confusion.

"Uraraka! I had no idea about your aspirations!" Iida shouted. "You-"

As the sounds of conversation faded away down the hall, Hans sighed.

"Yet another person lost to cultural brainwashing."

There was a brief moment of grief for the poor girl, pressured into being a hero by societal expectations based on her powerful quirk.

"Do you think that I'm still a social pariah, though? She actually was willing to hold a conversation with me." Hans said. "Honestly, it may be better for me if I just dropped out of hero school after this year. It's way too expensive, a hero's career is filled with death and destruction, and I'm not competent at all…"

"Chin up, my guy." Kirishima said. "We'll all do fine in the sports festival, if that's what you're worrying about."

"I'll just be eliminating myself in the first round." Hans declared. "The math midterm is probably more important to me than the festival, and even then, that doesn't really matter. Freshman grades don't matter to colleges, anyways."

As Hans left for the cafeteria himself, the three behind him all nodded at each other.

Yeah, drastic action would be needed.

…

"One!"

Yaoyorozu, Kirishima, and Ojiro each did a push-up.

"Two!"

That happened again.

"...And that makes… Four hundred and eight? No, that can't be right."

The three looked up.

It was quirk training time again, but the trio had basically already done all the quirk training they needed. Now, they need to exercise to match their quirks.

Hans… was doing math on Kirishima's back, seeing absolutely no reason to improve his combat ability whatsoever.

Of course, this nonchalance towards hero training was enough to send Bakugo into a blind rage.

"Oi, what the fuck are you doing?" Bakugo shouted. "This is the hero course, not a study hall!"

"I can't exactly see the difference." Hans said flatly. "What if math is essential to me working my quirk right?"

"You're not Ponytail. Your quirk doesn't need that shit. All you have to do is just tell your little friends to do something."

"I'm sure the vice representative is making his best effort!" Iida interjected, trying to defuse the argument.

"He's literally doing fucking math! First, he whines all about how heroes shouldnt be famous and all that… And now he's not even putting in any effort! Is this what being in the hero course means now? Some place where kids can just be angsty about not succeeding? You're just fucking useless, Andersen!"

Hans thought about all the times he put a little effort in to save humanity. The lostbelts, the singularities, getting annihilated by Goetia in two separate spacetime locations…

And sighed.

"He's right!" Hans said self-deprecatingly. "I am pretty useless. And my features are that of a child. It's not insulting in any way, honestly…"

"And he even admits it!"

"Hey, Hans isn't useless! He saved all of us at the USJ!"

"What did he do? Stall the villains for twenty minutes or something? Bullshit!"

"Well, what if he did?" Kirishima said. "Just because you weren't there doesn't mean it didnt' happen."

"Yeah!" Ojiro shouted, getting to his feet and speaking up as well. "He-

"At least I'm better than some fraud at a hero course." Bakugo sneered, interrupting Ojiro's statement. "How did he even make it into the recommended exams, anyways?"

"I never tried to hide my intentions." Hans said, slightly amused at the attempts to rile him up. "Didn't you hear me say that I didn't want to work in this dead end job before, or have those explosions broken some eardrums? Why would I torture myself here if I wasn't basically forced into this course?"

However, the word fraud somehow resonated with Kirishima, and before Bakugo could respond, Kirishima walked up to him as everybody watched them suspensefully. The school drama tension was strong between the two, and Aizawa was fast asleep, meaning that the next moves were good to go.

He raised a finger, pointed it at Bakugo's face, and said a phrase time honored by older siblings defending their younger siblings from an outside threat when they themselves weren't bullying the younger ones.

"You. Take. That. Back."

"Okay." Bakugo said, his palms crackled. "What are you going to do to me, huh? Harden your arms in a threatening manner? You can't even scratch-"

With a single stomp, martial arts wind up, and punch… Aizawa was awake again, and his capture scarf was around Kirishima's arm.

"But sensei!" Kirishima protested. "He insulted-"

"This is still class." Aizawa said dully, standing up from his sleeping bag. "Whatever you want to settle, do it later."

"We'll settle this during the sports festival, midget!" Bakugo jeered.

"Whatever." Hans said, turning back to his math. "Hey, Kirishima! You're not done with your set yet."

"...Fine." Kirishima muttered, sending one last competitive glare at Bakugo before returning to his exercises.

"Hopefully that interaction wasn't foreshadowing anything…" Hans muttered. "I'd really hate to be embroiled into some sort of weird ideological rivalry. And I didn't even get into the mindset to roast him yet…"

"There'll always be next time." Yaoyorozu said cryptically. "There'll always be next time."

"Are you three planning something?"

"Nope."

"Nah."

"Definitely not."

...

And the inevitable build up to the sports festival continues… Next chapter, we have something akin to a court case! These past 2 chapters are also within 2 weeks of the USJ, by the way. How time crawls, huh?

Discord link: discord . gg / s2uFUydRVd

-SpiritOfErebus

...

Ty for everybody's support and comments! It boosts my nonexistent, shattered, annihilated, crushed, stomped on, and mangled ego.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I am not a lawyer. I don't know how courts work… that well. This is a result of searching the internet several times, but I hope I at least made this scene interesting.

Anyways, I was bored, so I wrote this basically directly after the last chapter.

-SpiritOfErebus

"I've gone over your witness lists." the trio of judges said. "Most of your picks were identical. However, All Might was a rather… interesting pick for both of you. However, there was one place where your choices differed."

"Where?" the two lawyers asked at once, despite already knowing the answer.

"Hans Christian Andersen."

"Hans Christian Andersen is a critical part of this case." the defending lawyer said. "His speech, according to the police reports, was what made my clients defend the students."

"He is much too biased to be a witness!" the prosecuting lawyer almost shouted. "Look at his statements! They're clearly biased towards the defendant."

"That's no reason to deny a very key witness in this, though." the defending lawyer replied. "If a family member gets murdered and another member of the family witnessed the whole thing, do you not call them up as a witness?"

"You're just extremifying the situation!"

"And a villain attack with the intent to kill all of them wasn't extreme? Just because nobody died doesn't mean that-"

"Silence." the judges said. "We have made our decision."

…

"Hans Christian Andersen got called as a witness, huh?" the Hero Association's president said. "This… is not good."

Twirling her blond hair, she looked out of the windows. "With forces like the Meta Liberation Army lurking in the shadows, we can only guess as to how they will utilize this court case to further their platform."

"Is there any way we can stop the court case, then?"

"There is." the president said, turning around and looking at her associates. "And we can stop this Hans Christian Andersen once and for all."

"You're not saying… Assassination?"

"Have our operatives claim to be with the League of Villains, and then kill both the villains that defected, and also get rid of Hans Christian Andersen as collateral. His combat ability is still… negligible, to say the least, according to the teacher reports. He's barely exerted himself in his quirk training class."

"...There's no changing your mind, is there?"

"If he keeps on speaking, more of the flaws in hero society will be shown, and eventually, he'll be the figurehead for the downfall of it. And more importantly, without heroes, society will fall into chaos. This trial is being broadcast across Japan, too, so anything he says will be spread across this country like wildfire."

"I mean, he does say that heroes would still exist." a board member argued. "They'd just focus less on fame and more on stopping crime if they were incorporated into the police force. We won't lose our jobs."

"And because of the reduced presence of heroes in their lives, ordinary citizens will feel less safe. Villains will start acting more and more boldly, and with All Might on his way to retirement and a reduced number of fresh heroes because of the lack of prestige… This isn't even about ourselves anymore."

"We could be looking at the beginning of anarchy…"

"Indeed." the president said, looking back out of the window again, from the tall windows of the Hero Association headquarters. "Which is why, even if it's wrong… we must do it, for the balance of society…and for the greater good."

…

"Amidst the tumultuous outcome of the USJ attack, we are here to report on the decision of the Musutafu District Court. This would be a monumental case, as we are here today to question: What is Villainy? And how will the villains that infiltrated the USJ with the goal to kill children face in the legal system after some saved the lives of class 1A of the hero course? This is their story."

Rikiya Yotsubashi, more popularly (or discretely, given the secrecy of the existence of the Meta Liberation Army) known as Re-Destro, rubbed his forehead as he felt his stress slowly accumulate.

It was like a dark weight. An oppressive mist that clouded the back of his mind and pushed him to act. To release the weight that piled on his shoulders.

But this wasn't a problem that could be solved with violence. Or marshaling the forces that he had amassed over the years.

This… was a matter of public opinion. The USJ attack had been devastating for the MLA. It showed the consequences of unchecked quirk usage, and how one single group could even mount an attack on the most secure facilities in Japan.

"Ah, public opinion." he sighed, "The most powerful and dangerous of the battlefields."

But with the existence of the blue-haired child that had inspired his change, that had started his protests and had now given a speech in favor of his cause… It had exposed yet another societal disease.

Discrimination based on quirk, not based on whether you had a quirk or not.

After all, the illusion of all men being equal had been shattered completely and utterly with the introduction of quirks and the troubled century. In his youth, he could still remember the days where whispers of an all-powerful villain lurked the shadows, and was beaten back by All Might. When the previous Meta Liberation Army was persecuted and defeated in their own attempt to liberate quirks.

If they lost this case, the public would never accept that quirk use by anybody but a hero was a crime. They would never open their eyes to the circumstances they forced upon the less fortunate.

"Are our lawyers there yet?" Re-Destro said, fidgeting with his green-striped black suit nervously. "Have they gone through the crowd of reporters?"

"Yes, sir." his secretary said, nervously standing off to the side. He understood that it was probably himself that was causing the nerves, but he wasn't in the right state of mind to say.

"Turn on the live coverage of the court case." Re-Destro said. "I need to see this."

"...And what if we lose, sir?"

"Then maybe our movement was doomed to fail." Re-Destro sighed. "With All Might present, no violent revolution could take place in this age."

"We must have confidence, then." his secretary said. "For the Army."

"No." Re-Destro said. "We must have confidence in the average civilian to be able to comprehend what they've done."

…

Rikasakusei rubbed his grayish skin and scarred features gently with his oversized fingers. It had already been seventeen days since the USJ, but he still felt like it had happened yesterday.

Standing with the villainous crowd in a fit of desperation was easy, but standing against it was like standing in the face of a tide. Sometimes, he would still dream of the knives. The screeches of that terrible creature. The crackling electricity of his strangely frankenstein-themed heteromorph quirk. The scene of the blue-haired kid drinking somebody else's blood just to stay upright.

But that was over. Now, he had a worse nightmare.

A court case.

It was hard to find a presentable suit that still fit him, considering the fact that he had been off the job market for several years now.

He hadn't even gone home, considering the fact that he, along with the rest of the group that stepped up to defend the kids, had been in police custody during the past two weeks where the court system was preparing a jury… or something like that. Rikasakusei was many things, but a law student was not one of them.

The two weeks in police custody were… actually pretty good. He had gained a couple of pounds due to his low-maintenance constitution and the pork chops with rice that they were constantly given as food. Keeping the rest of his compatriots in line, however, was pretty difficult, especially considering the fact that most of them were, to say the least, braindead.

He didn't even know the teenager with gun fingers that well, but he insisted on calling him "big bro" and constantly badmouthed the police. It was only because of his apparent authority over the group of fifteen that they managed to remain civil and not destroy anything within the charitable conditions of police custody.

They didn't even have to wear handcuffs. They were just… in the cells, given the fact that none of them actually wanted to escape, even if fresh air was tempting.

However, there was a serious question to be asked.

"Why are you even helping me?" he said to the lawyer that was also sent to represent them by some company named Detnerat, a lifestyle support equipment manufacturer for heteromorphs. "Why are we worthy of your attention?"

The lawyer looked from left to right within the empty halls that were kept free of reporters for the two to converse.

"We're actually part of the Meta Liberation Army, a group advocating against the restriction of quirk use for the general public." the lawyer muttered. "Inspired by Hans Christian Andersen, we've taken up non-violent protests, and your attack on the USJ was… rather inconvenient for us."

"Then why are you helping me?" Rikasakusei said, his voice deep and loud. Slowly, he stood up to his full height of about seven feet and towered over the rather short lawyer.

"Because people need to know your story!" the lawyer said fervently. "Most civilians live in an illusion created by heroes: that there are just inherently evil people trying to destroy society for no reason. The truth is that most villains are just victims of circumstance, right? Like you and your group. You've even acquired a GED, right? But you couldn't get a job anywhere."

"Yeah." Rikasakusei sighed. "I couldn't. And what would happen if you won our court case? You wouldn't do this if it didn't benefit your cause somehow."

"If we win this case, then people will understand more about villainy, and how quirk use does not impact villainy at all. It's the attitude of society, and Japan's judgmentalism and strict social rules that cause people such as yourself to be alienated. People that have been discriminated against based on looks or inconvenient quirks only turn to villainy because of the lack of options!"

"...Passionate, aren't you?" Rikasakusei said.

"Indeed." the lawyer said, much less fervently. "But I didn't come up with this by myself. Hans Christian Andersen, the blue-haired kid at USJ, said all of this."

"He… he did?" Rikasakusei stuttered. "And out in the public, not as an attempt to stall us? A hero student would say something like that?"

"Yeah." the lawyer said. "And that's what makes him all the more admirable. Part of the upper echelon of UA students, yet willing to look past the gilded cage that heroes have created. Educated, but not unwilling to overlook the struggles of the impoverished and unfortunate. It's almost like he's lived a life amongst us. To know of failure and rejection from society."

"The case is about to start. Stop praising a small child." Rikasakusei said, regaining his composure. "I… really want to be free of all this, you know? The crime. The villainy."

"Save the speeches for the court, buddy." the lawyer said, trying but failing to pat him on the shoulder.

…

"Hey, Shinso, what are you doing there?" one of his classmates said, leaning over his shoulder and pushing past his frizzy, purple hair to look at his phone. Out of instinct, Shinso almost laid his phone flat, but then realized that here, he wasn't ostracized and blamed by his class because of his quirk. His quirk was still… sort of a secret.

"Just watching that new court case." Shinso said. "It's… pretty interesting."

"Man, I can't believe they're defending villains, right?" his classmate laughed. "Just ship them to Tartarus and have it over with, right?"

"Ha… Ha… Yeah…" Shinso said, his unpracticed smiles slowly slipping back into his default grumpy frown.

"Anyways, good luck preparing for the sports festival, man!" the other student said, putting his arms around Shinso's shoulder. "You can probably beat that unheroic bastard, right?"

"Maybe." Shinso muttered.

"Alright, students." their teacher's voice barked. Yes, quite literally barked, seeing as Hound Dog was their homeroom teacher. "Back to your seats."

Shinso almost sighed in relief as the other student left and he was treated to the silence of the homeroom class. There was nothing to do today. Most people chose to quietly converse with the people next to them, but Shinso returned to watching the opening statements of the court case.

Hopefully, those reformed villains would get off the hook. Well, they never even did anything at the USJ against those students, and actually stepped in to defend them…

What made Shinso more concerned was just… how against the defendants the other students seemed. It was almost like they were blind to the fact that they were human too. That they were people with an innate desire to live and be happy, too.

Just like his middle school.

He would become a better hero than those who shunned the lives of so-called disadvantaged people. That'd show them.

Shaking his head from his disapproving thoughts, he returned to the court case.

…

"Given my inability to handle the biggest villain of the group, I would personally like to thank those people for saving my students." Aizawa said uncomfortably, standing in the witness stand wearing a formal suit, a far cry from his normal attire of a black jumpsuit and his capture scarf.

"And with them infiltrating with the original crowd, do you think that they should be punished for that? A yes or no answer, please." the Hero Association's prosecuting lawyer said, crossing her arms.

"Objection! The prosecutor is limiting the witness statement!" the defending lawyer said defiantly.

"Overruled." the judge said, stony-faced. "The premise of the question is in a valid format. The witness shall answer the question."

"Different circumstances mean-"

"A yes or a no." the lawyer said firmly.

"Yes." Aizawa said, sighing. "But they acted differently in the end, and-"

"Okay, next question!" the lawyer said. "What about the-"

"Just let me talk, woman." Aizawa said menacingly, his eyes glimmering red menacingly.

"This is a witness interview." the lawyer said, not intimidated by Aizawa's soulless stare. "Were you there to see the villains defend the students? Yes, or no?"

"I was unconscious, so-"

"A yes, or a no." the lawyer said firmly.

"Again, I was unconscious."

"Please answer the question, Eraserhead-san." the lawyer said.

Aizawa looked to the ceiling. Why did witness interviews in court have to be such a pain?

…

"Is Thirteen here today?" the Hero Association Lawyer said.

"She isn't available because of her injuries, but she did send in a video message." an attache from the hospital said. "I have it here with me."

As the man in the lab coat stood up and projected the message on the screen, the prosecuting lawyer sighed as she realized it was yet another message in support of the villains that saved the students.

"As I was indisposed by the mist villain's quirk at the time, I was unable to see what was going on from my position on the ground." she wheezed from under the gas mask. "Most of my back had been vaporized by an effect of my own quirk, but- cough, cough."

"Thirteen-san!" the nurse in the professional recording shouted, rushing forward to help her.

"No matter." Thirteen said, coughing, the relatively short locks of her hair still shaking as she writhed on the bed, before stilling. "I'm fine. I'm fine. Anyways… They really played an invaluable role in keeping the students alive. If any of them are present while this message is played, I'd really like to thank them. Thank you for stepping up and protecting our students, even though society had wronged you, as Andersen-kun said in his big speech. I don't think they should be charged for villainy like the rest of the captured villains. They acted like good Samaritans, and as rescue heroes do, they stepped up to save lives."

There was a lot of clapping in the stands with this statement, which wasn't obnoxiously interrupted by lawyers asking for yes or no questions.

The hero association lawyer sighed. These weren't going well for them.

…

"Why yes, I did see the villains fighting to protect my students!" All Might said, wearing a yellow suit and smiling his signature, wide smile. "Even though you were tempted down the path of villainy, I still believe that you made the right choice in the end. Good job, young man!"

All Might extended a thumbs up towards the seven foot tall, scarred, and gray-skinned man sitting in the defendant's chair. Said grown man then proceeded to sob into the sleeve of his suit jacket very noisily and loudly.

(This time, the Hero Association's lawyer didn't have the guts to ask for a yes or no question from All Might, out of all people.)

"However, breaking in was definitely the wrong decision to make." All Might said, his smiling diminishing slightly. "I cannot in good faith say that such an action was done with good intentions."

The prosecution whispered to each other, before nodding. All Might didn't paint the villains in a positive picture this time, at least.

There was still a very good chance for them to win.

And besides, the court case wouldn't matter anymore if all the defendants were dead, right?

…

"Being called in as a witness? Isn't them, well… being this fast… sort of illegal?" Hans said, scratching his head.

"Yes, but according to the internet, being held for over twenty one days without a sentence is… sort of illegal as well. So they expedited the process" Hans's father said, sighing. "At least they'll be waiving the costs for a taxi."

"And I have to go, right?" Hans said, sighing. "Or else, it'll be a felony."

"Yup." his father said. "Now, let's get you a suit and some pepper spray."

"You do know that it's illegal, right?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow. "You can't bring weapons into a courtroom."

"If you can bring quirks into a courtroom, who's going to care about a bit of harmless pepper spray?" his father said, smiling slyly. "Besides, who knows whether or not those villains are going to turn violent again? Even if you say that they've changed, I still don't trust them."

"...If you insist." Hans muttered.

That little speech he gave back at the USJ was causing way too much trouble. Now, he had to trust in Japan's legal system, which has a 99% prosecution rate?

Hans sighed. This was going to be amazing.

But seriously, this was an official government building he was going to. What was he possibly going to use pepper spray for?

"Oh, fuck." Hans cursed. "I'm in a shounen series."

…

AN

Lighten up on the sarcasm there, Hans. I wonder what's happening in the next chapter…

I have a legitimate question, though. Do people still like where this fic is going? All of this socioeconomic things in a shounen/magic thing crossover is a  bit  of a stretch of both the source material (well, for BNHA they never answered a lot of the society issue questions I think so it's more of a lack of evidence than a lack of problems), and my own writing ability and the ability to make things interesting.

Please leave a review/private message me/do something to let me know what you think. This is new territory for me, too! Just look at all the other somewhat generic fics I'm writing.

Discord link: di scord . gg / s2uFUydRVd

Come roast my writing in the discord server, and follow/fav if you liked the story. It gives me self confidence, something I am in a heavy deficit of.

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

This is one of my longest chapters to date. And honestly, with basically nothing to do recently, I've been writing a lot.

A Lot.

Hopefully, this chapter doesn't disappoint you.

-SpiritOfErebus

The streets were busy that day.

As Hans rode in the cab, adjusting the tie on the dress clothes that he normally wore as a hero costume, minus the lab coat-like piece and his signature black bowtie, he began to ponder…

Why was he doing this, again?

Sure, the speech had been said in irritation during the USJ, and also an innate desire to, well, stay alive. The speech after the USJ, however, was entirely of his own volition. That didn't actually cause the court case he was now somehow enrolled in as a witness, but it brought him immense social strife and antagonized even more of his class. What he did even set up some flags for unnecessary competitiveness during the upcoming Sports Festival among the gaggle of teenagers in 1-A.

"But I'm not a reformer…" Hans muttered. "I personally don't have the perseverance, or the wits, or… anything to sustain a movement. I just observe and speak. I don't actually, well, act, at all."

"This is a taxi, sir." the man driving his cab said, looking in the mirror back at Hans's contorted expression. "Are you… maybe… preparing for the case? This trip was paid for by the court, so…"

"Yeah, sure." Hans said, taking honestly any excuse that wasn't him thinking about the narrative prospects of both the current plot and his own character settings.

"...Can you put in a good word for those villains, then?" the cab driver said. "My daughter… she's the sweetest thing… but she's has those supposedly villainous quirks that, well, all of her middle school loves to just point out…"

Hans's gaze softened. He looked forward at the graying hairs of the man's oddly featherlike hair, and nodded.

"I used to want to be a law student, you know." the cab driver said, sighing. "But the flames of the industry… were too difficult… I transferred to psychology, and now I'm driving cabs. Anyways, you're not here to hear my life story, are you?"

"No, no." Hans said quietly. "I'd actually love to hear about it."

As the man rambled on and on about his tumultuous life, the ups and downs, and how a psychology degree was utterly useless in a country filled with disregard for mental health and identity issues like Japan, Hans looked at the bustling streets that flowed around the gray asphalt like blood pumping through blood vessels.

Every single one of these lives were unique, even if they were trapped in what was probably a manga series for a shounen. Everybody had a story. Whether it mattered to the narrative or not, however, was a different question.

Stories were cruel places. His stories were usually gloomy and gray, despite their somewhat fantastical settings. This shounen story was bloody and brutal, with lobotomized monsters and terrifyingly competent supervillains, and idealistic heroes looming over everybody else like the sword of Damocles. One little snip of the rope, and the blade would come plunging down.

And whether Hans liked it or not, this world was real. He lived in this world.

(It would go against everything in him not to tear down these fragile sheets and expose the hypocrisies that laid underneath.)

He waved goodbye to the driver, stepped out of the cab while flourishing his suit in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion, and adjusted his tie until it was straight and made his neck feel uncomfortable. It almost felt nostalgic to wear a suit again.

There was change to be made, and for once, Hans wasn't just staring at the aftermath of shattered empires, horrible life choices, and regrets coalesced into a spirit origin.

…

Wearing a tweed hat and a pair of glasses, a man in his thirties sighed as he passed before the rather ugly district court. Not being particularly photogenic, the building was filled with windows and brick.

Apparently, the court systems had not deemed it necessary to give themselves a new image after the emergence of quirks.

These places were pretty boring, honestly. The district courts were where divorce cases were reviewed, sometimes looked at bank fraud, and… generally flew beneath the notice of the media.

Now, however, it was hosting the review of a notorious villain case. Why this court was to be the setting of his last job, he didn't know.

But would this really be his last? Ten years ago, fresh out of whatever secret camp the Hero Association had built, he had built a name as the Airslash Villain: somebody that killed or maimed despite holding seemingly nothing.

Somebody that could, with a wave of his hand, disappear or become nearly invisible, before slinking off into the night. A near-perfect assassin.

His quirk, making objects invisible when he touched them, was much less exciting than his reputation let on. When they said that he had potential while leading him out of that orphanage, he was sure that they were disappointed.

Of course, most of his acts of violence were against targets that the Hero Association had deemed necessary to be gone, though not important enough for them to send out their trump card. Wayward, low ranking heroes abusing their authority. Some criminals that could only be found by having underground contacts. Fugitives. The lot.

Actual jobs for the association were few and far between, mostly being spaced months away from each other, which was why he tolerated the arrangement. During the day, he would live as a carefree mailman, with a fake life, fake parents, a fake school record, and being absolutely… and utterly… lonely. Fearful that if he left on a job that took a wrong turn, or, worse, exposed his identity, the shards of his faked normality would come crumbling down.

The only people that called him consistently were scam callers, and he had tried holding several conversations with them before they inevitably realized he wasn't seventy years old and hung up.

Imagine his surprise, then, when he was told that his restrictions would finally be over. The ticking time bomb that was his employment at the Hero Association would finally be over.

And all he had to do? Kill two targets. The first? One of the supposed villain reformees that would be present at the court. That wasn't that hard to comprehend. Maybe they really did deserve what was coming to them, attacking the USJ while students were inside.

The other one… was a bit more out of the ordinary.

Taking out his phone, he called his contact. They were the only one that he could actually contact on this mission.

"...Are you sure about this?" he muttered into the phone. "Isn't going for a student a bit out of line? What that kid said has a point, you know?"

"If you wish to end your employment, then do as you are told." the harsh voice said through a voice changer. "Air Slash, do you understand your role?"

"...Yes." he muttered, looking around at the crowd of bustling journalists to make sure nobody was paying attention. Surprisingly, the area closest to the journalists were where they paid the least attention, if it wasn't in front of their camera.

"Now, go to the only pink potted plant in that aisle." the contact said. "There, you will meet your co-operative."

Putting the phone down, he slowly walked towards a conspicuous pink potted plant. A petite woman was sitting on a bench by the place, also with a phone to her ear. Once spotting her, he waved before sitting down on the bench next to her.

"Verify operation number." the contact said.

"3341021." he said, blurting out the seemingly random codes that had been told to him through phone

"3345758." the woman replied.

"Who are you?" he said.

"Honey Jar." she said, "And you?"

"Air Slash." he replied dully. No names were said. The ones they were given were fake ones anyways, not that they remembered their original ones.

"Did they say the same thing to you? …Two?"

"Yeah." Honey Jar said vaguely, trying not to tip off the passerby. "Two. The blue one I didn't want to, well… but if it's for terminating the contract, then I guess it's worth it."

"I can't believe it." he muttered. "Ten years. I was expecting that they were saving us for some impossible mission, but they sent us on this?"

"They feel threatened," Honey Jar said. "Ideas are dangerous. You can see how even the thought of freedom is so very tempting for us. How we both were so desperate to leave everything behind that…"

They sat in silence, contemplating the deed they were about to do.

"...The contact said you had the chart," he said. "Can I see it? And Honey Jar was… the trapping villain, right?"

"I can limit the speed of any two people." she said. "And with my stingers over here…" she said, patting a side pouch. "They're pretty powerless to dodge."

"Let me get to turning those invisible…" he said. "Can I make a call first, though?"

"Sure." Honey Jar said. "Did you make a friend? We really can't, you know."

"It's just… a routine I have." he said, dialing a number. "Besides, after this, I may not be able to call them anymore, you know?"

"I suppose I can understand that. Fine. There's thirty minutes until the trial starts for the day." Honey Jar said. "Take your time."

"Hello. This is tech support, how may I help… Oh, come on, Konosora. Why now?"

…

"Hans!" Kirishima shouted, running up to him boisterously past a couple looking over a newspaper on a bench. The two shot nervous glances at him, before returning to their paper.

"You were called as a witness too, huh?"

"I was honestly surprised I got called at all." Hans said, shrugging. "You know, my extremely biased statements at that protest two weeks ago should have destroyed any chance I had at attending this case, but I'll take whatever opportunity I can get to stay out of hero classes."

"Hans. Ejiro." Ojiro said, stoically nodding. "Are you prepared for the trial?"

"Just say the truth of what you remember." Hans said. "If they really do try to spin your story in a different way, and, well, there's not much that can be done about lawyers. Just leave the rebuttal to me."

Somewhere, hidden in Hans's nonchalance, there was a little smirk.

"Hey, guys…" Sero said awkwardly, his suit specially modified to allow for his tape dispenser elbows to fit. The upper arm looked a little awkward, but it was probably the best he could have done.

But what made it awkward wasn't his suit. It was Hans.

The four stood in awkward silence,

Then, a shadow was cast over the group of witnesses congregating behind the crowd of media setting up camera equipment and preparing reporters to start their speeches in front of a good spot of the rather unimpressive building. The group turned to see a lengthy car slowly pull up on the slightly short curb, having to stop halfway through the curve and the curb in order to accommodate the full length of the vehicle.

The car door slowly opened, and a tall, imposi-

"Wait, is that you, Yaoyorozu?" Hans stuttered, recognizing a very prominent feature on the woman.

Her ponytail. What else were you thinking?

"Y-you're actually that rich?" Hans said, looking at the lengthy limousine and Yaoyorozu's expensive-looking attire. Even a single scrap of that silk could probably pay for some significant proportion of UA's slightly pricey admissions fee.

She stood, her statuesque figure and confident position only spoiled by her self-consciously twirling her hair.

In contrast to Yaoyorozu's indecisiveness, Hans shrugged before turning back to the court building. "It figures. Given all the arguments we had about budgeting and all that, it was foolish of me not to expect such lavish expenditures."

"T-this is simply formal attire." Yaoyorozu stuttered. "Besides, I-"

"Okay, okay." Hans said, trying to calm her down by extending a hand. "If nobody does anything flashy, we can probably walk past these journalists without attractions too much-"

"Ohohoho?" an irritatingly french voice said. "It seems like my sparkle has been reciprocated by your shining attire, Mademoiselle."

"Let's go." Hans said urgently, palming his pepper spray. He might end up needing it, after all.

"Why?" Kirishima said.

At that moment, the media's eyes glinted. Their cameras began to turn to face the students, and journalists began to step forward. Slowly at first, then almost at a speed that resembled sprinting. Despite their slightly absurd speed, they managed to keep a completely stable profile, no doubt born of endless practice chasing heroes for interviews.

"Yaoyorozu, make everybody pepper spray!" Hans screamed. "Sprint! By god almighty, sprint!"

By the time the heavy court doors were closed behind the students and the five began to pant heavily in the lobby, the media had somehow regrouped into their original positions.

"What the hell are they motivated by?" Kirishima muttered. "Their speed is as manly as hell, but why were they so-"

"Deadlines, my friends…" Hans wheezed, his body not really built for sprinting. "Deadlines."

…

Hans had walked, or, well, sprinted, into the building with noble aspirations. He was prepared to speak out. To try and overcome the bureaucratic questioning style that the lawyers doubtlessly employed.

He was not expecting to be summoned as a relatively unimportant witness due to him collapsing halfway through the battle.

"...And for the next witness, I would like to call… Yaoyorozu Momo…"

As Yaoyorozu nodded to a slightly sleepy Hans, stepped over Kirishima's legs, and awkwardly hoisted her dress over where Ojiro's tail lay, though, the door was slammed open.

"Chief! There's been an emergency!"

The whole court stood up. The on-site security officers perked up, their black, bulletproof jackets and reinforced helmets shining dully in the fluorescent lights.

The haggard police officer ran to the vice police chief, whispered in his ear, and said vice chief's expression completely shifted.

"You barged into this place… to tell me about a labor strike? From that stupid SDC organization that popped up just three days ago?"

"But the other police chief was found taking bribes. The other district needs you right now, vice chief!"

"I am needed here, at court." the police officer said firmly.

By now, the court had generally calmed down. Yaoyorozu slowly made her way up to the witness stand as the police chief was reluctantly dragged out by his junior officer.

"You stated that you are Yaoyorozu Momo of class 1-A at UA, correct?" the prosecuting lawyer said, a bit too much glee in his voice.

"That is correct, yes." Yaoyorozu said into the mic.

"And according to the testimony of others and the police reports, you were present when the Villains attacked, and when the defendants switched sides, correct?"

"Yes."

"Were the villains attacking you with the intent to kill?"

"I'd assume so." Yaoyorozu said, smiling politely.

"And can you please describe what happened when the villains switched sides?"

"Of course." Yaoyorozu said. "It was after Andersen-san collapsed due to a lack of energy. He was still conscious, however, and as I prepared to fight or possibly retreat without his aid providing healing and strength buffs, I assume, to Kirishima-san, the situation became dire."

Noticing the court's silence, she continued.

"But as the villains attacked again, some stepped in front of us and began to defend our group of six: Thirteen and me, Andersen-san, Kirishima-san, Ojiro-san, Sero-san, and Aoyama-san. Then, I began to focus on efforts to get Andersen-san back on the battlefield."

"For how long would you say that the villains were standing there?"

"About three minutes, though I'm not entirely sure about when they got to the clearing before the USJ's doors, considering the fact that I didn't know in what order the villains walked through the portals."

Hans's head drooped. Why were they going over such menial details? Wasn't this supposed to be about truth, sentimental statements, and actual social commentary? Why was this just about the technicalities of what happened at the USJ?

As his head hit the seatback in front of him, the prosecuting lawyer took a look at him, grinned, and pressed a button inside her suit, hidden from sight.

And then, the walls behind him burst open, before roiling, black smoke began to pour out of the gap. Hans sat up just as he saw an arm clothed in white robes swinging at him with seemingly nothing. Quickly, he summoned the Elder Tree Mother, who brought up her roots in a desperate attempt to block… whatever it was.

Then, her roots were chopped off. As the stumps of what remained glowed blue and slowly began to regenerate, two figures walked into the room.

One was a ninja holding absolutely nothing, though by the fact that the Elder Tree Mother was now regrowing some of the roots, it was probably something. The other one was a woman wearing yellow and black stripes, while carrying a crossbow and having various nothings holstered in her belts.

"Greetings." the figures said. "We are the-"

Kirishima kicked down the flimsy chair he was sitting on, forced Hans behind him, and went directly for a punch.

As the ninja threw one arm towards the security guards and swung his seemingly empty hand to parry the hardened fist with… nothing(?), many things happened at once.

Ojiro grabbed the chair that Kirishima kicked and held it in front of him as a shield, his tail and other arm poised for offense. Yaoyorozu's shoes burst open as metal rods were made beneath it at a preposterous speed as her arm shimmered with the light of her quirk, before she landed in front of Hans, grappling hook in her hand and steel armguards lining her arms.

"How rude to interrupt us." the woman said in a sultry voice. "And here we thought that this trial wanted facts about what happened back there."

"And what should have happened back there…" the ninja said, in a forced tone of maliciousness, "Was that you should have died, Frankenstein-san."

Every civilian in the place screamed. Aoyama dove behind a bench as Sero struggled to expose his tape dispensers from his way-too-sturdy suit. Yaoyorozu tossed him a sheathed knife absentmindedly as she fired the grappling gun at the woman, who just sighed and pointed a finger at the projectile.

The projectile, of course, slowed down until it seemed like it was moving through a viscous substance like honey. The woman casually plucked the dart out of the air, stopped her pointing, and snapped the strings.

"Get to the target, Honey Jar!" the ninja shouted. "I'll take care of these hero brats."

"With pleasure~" the woman, now apparently noted as Honey Jar, said, leaping away.

"Kirishima." Hans said. "Go shield the defendant."

"But Hans-"

"We'll be fine." Hans said tersely. "Ojiro and Yaoyorozu didn't train for nothing.

As Kirishima leapt away seriously, however, the tall, gray man on the victim's stand began to laugh.

"Of course you bastards would come now, right?" he said raspily, destroying the wooden furniture of the court with just a wave of his hand, before lifting a table in an arm crackling with blue lightning. "Just when I had the chance to get out of that hellhole."

"You're a dirty traitor." the woman snarled, notching an invisible crossbow bolt on what looked like a high-powered crossbow. "And this is your severance check from the League of Vill-"

Kirishima kicked her in the arms, hardening his legs before executing the maneuver. The crossbow was knocked awry, and what sounded like steel clattering on the tile floors seemed to echo across the room as the civilians finally got over their shock and fled. The armed guards, however, were already on the floor somehow, bleeding from wounds that were held open by invisible constructs.

It was just the four, Sero, Aoyama, and the defendant against what looked like two experienced and dangerous villains.

Not hesitating after seeing the effect of his blows, Kirishima proceeded with his relentless attack. First, a stomp on the ground to shake footing. Then? A punch to the arm. Once the reinforced crossbow blocked the attack, he slid under the woman's guard before sharpening his fingers into a spearhead with his quirk and driving it towards a nonlethal area. The quick attack, however, was rendered sluggish with a single pointing motion from the woman.

"How speedy." she purred. "But that isn't going to be fast enough, boy."

As Kirishima growled in frustration and brought up his quirk, raising his arms as fast as his enemy's quirk would allow, the woman used her mouth to get another invisible bolt from her collar and loaded it onto the heavy crossbow, before pulling the trigger.

With a sudden feeling of imbalance, Kirishima was unleashed from the quirk's hold, and his sudden acceleration unbalanced him for a couple of seconds, though his good footwork was able to stop him from falling backwards.

The crossbow bolt, however, was a different story.

It slammed into Kirishima like a mortar shell, and despite his mental training, his quirk still hadn't caught up to his efficiency in skill. His skin cracked, though it was only surface level, and he was forced back several meters.

"Now, to finish you off…" she said, pointing another hand at the scarred, gray, reformed villain. Using the same maneuver a crossbow bolt was obtained from her collar, and-

Ojiro's tail slammed into her from behind, before his two arms began to try and place the woman into a chokehold. Sent stumbling forwards, the woman pointed at Ojiro blindly and activated her quirk. His motions instantly slowed as Ojiro was forced to stare right at the crossbow pointed straight at him.

"You really pissed me off, kid." the villain said in a tough manner, though only aiming for Ojiro's shoulder for some reason.

The trigger clicked, and nothing came out of the crossbow. It hadn't been loaded yet.

Then, a blue light pulsed around the destroyed courtroom as the sound of metal hitting metal began to echo across the room.

…

It was just the two of them against the ninja holding invisible blades. How long were the blades? Hans had no idea. What were the weapons? Hans had no idea, either.

All he knew was that it had been a great idea to work hard on the training montage for the three idiots that now followed him around everywhere.

Yaoyorozu, gaze steely and focused, hefted a tower shield as she analyzed the situation, parrying the strikes of the man's wild dual wield style and produced several matryoshka dolls and sunglasses behind her back. Hans sent out his summons to try and harass the man, but he was much more experienced than those two-bit villains at the USJ.

His creations, made with no combat skill whatsoever, were barely able to pressure him into dodging.

"Hans, can you pull the anti-teleportation field you made at the USJ again? All of these people appeared in a puff of black smoke. The teleporter may be around." Yaoyorozu said, now focusing on making a helmet and chainmail vest for herself.

"I'm already working on it, okay?" Hans said snappily, one hand tapping furiously on a tablet while he cast empowering magic on Ojiro, hoping that one of his tail strikes would be able to take the woman out.

Then, a string of tape shot out from behind a bench. The ninja backflipped in surprise, avoiding a scattering of matches from the little match girl and the tape. Then, Sero latched onto the ceiling and began to create as many roadblocks for the ninja as possible.

"Sero, get down here!" Hans yelled. "He's going to throw some invisible blade at you if you don't."

Sero's eyes widened, and he released his tape's hold on the ceiling, dropping behind Yaoyorozu's shield.

"Where's Aoyama?" Yaoyorozu asked tersely, angling her shield to take yet another strike. The stockpile of materials at her feet steadily grew.

"Calling the heroes." Sero said quickly, all semblance of awkwardness forgotten. "He doesn't have his support belt and can't use his quirk."

"Damn." Hans said. "Yaoyorozu, go on the offensive. Sero? You go and restrain the bee woman to save the defendant."

"You sure?" Sero said. "Then who will take the defense?"

"I will, once you stop bothering me and let me finish making my field!" Hans snapped.

As Sero jumped away, Hans made the final touches to his territory creation skill and slammed the blue sheet of paper that formed because of it down onto the ground, dodging a crossbow bolt and making a blue light pulse across the room for a second time. He chanced a glance at the other side of the room, watching as Kirishima covered for Ojiro while he was slowed and Ojiro bothered the woman's bolt reloading process when Kirishima was slowed. The defendant himself was not making matters any better, going in for the attack with wide swings that demonstrated no martial art skill whatsoever.

Now, all Hans could do was pray, and try to shield himself the best he could. There were no spontaneous shounen powerups, not for him and this group. There was only cold, hard preparation and grim determination to… survive the plot.

Was he going to be turned into an example for the protagonist? To set a tone for the story or start some grand revenge plot against the League of Villains?

"Wait a minute…" Hans muttered, "Why haven't they gone for the kill on Kirishima?"

Tearing his eyes away from Yaoyorozu, who was making and throwing various explosive compounds out of her arm and destroying the courtroom walls while the villain frantically dodged, he looked at Kirishima's cracked shoulder.

Why aim for the shoulder? Given Kirishima's slowed state, there was nothing that stopped the villain from aiming at the head, or the eye.

For two pretty competent villains, this was much too suspicious.

"Why won't you all just back down, hero students?" the ninja grimaced, clenching his fist to reveal that he was holding more throwing knives or other invisible constructs, before flinging them at Hans. In response, Hans shot out a wave of blue mana. They impacted something, before there was a metallic clang on the ground.

"Trap him, Elder Tree Mother!" Hans shouted. Said tree began to crawl up the walls like an alien spider, growing branch after branch to try and stop the villain from killing them both. Amidst the incoming tree branches and the bombs that Yaoyorozu made on her skin, the villain was rendered mostly helpless.

Most of his problems would have been solved if he just went for Yaoyorozu, but for some reason, the villain insisted on throwing daggers at Hans. It was a bit risky to test the theory with Yaoyorozu, but she was currently wearing a helmet and chainmail armor on her torso that was of her own construction. Any other wounds dealt to the limb could probably be healed by him after the confrontation.

"You're being threatened to do this, aren't you?" Hans shouted. The ninja stiffened, almost getting hit by one of the explosions. "If you really were the League of Villains, you both would be aiming to kill us. Instead, you intentionally reveal yourselves with a black smoke grenade, go for nonlethal attacks on Kirishima, but then keep throwing knives and aiming crossbow bolts on… what was your name again?

"Rikasakusei!" the defendant shouted, grabbing another chair to throw at the crossbow-wielding villain.

"Yeah. Him. That means that your targets are me and him. So, you aren't actually villains, are you? You're just hired assassins, trying to target us in order to nullify the court case, all the while getting rid of me and my troublesome speeches by getting rid of me as collateral, is that right?"

For a moment, combat stopped. The villains seemed to stop in their motion. Contrary to their previously swift action, Yaoyorozu, Kirishima, and Ojiro also stopped. Sero stopped swinging around on the ceiling and looked at the two villains, wondering what every other student here was thinking.

Was Hans… actually correct?

The brief pause was interrupted with a click of the crossbow and the rasp of a knife. The students and the frankenstein look-alike sprang back into action, trying to survive for long enough so that a hero could actually get here.

"Nonsense!" the ninja shouted weakly, his voice quivering with emotion. Was it anger, or regret? Hans couldn't exactly tell. "We, the League of Villains, are here to clean house! Death to the traitors!"

The crossbow was fired straight at Hans.

Quickly, Hans dived to the side. The whistle of the wind blew past his coat as he fell to the ground. However, there was a problem once he rolled back up to his feet.

The ninja was standing right before him, hands curled around an invisible sword.

"Aah!" Hans screamed, reaching into his pocket, pulling out his pepper spray and pressing down hard on the trigger. The cheap plastic broke under the sudden pressure and broke into shards, stabbing into Hans's index finger. However, the spray went out as intended. The ninja quickly aborted his swing so as not to get blinded, but his sword… was sprayed. Now? The length of the blade was very clearly shown under the fluorescent lights.

Muttering curses and throwing his pepper spray at the villain, Hans leapt back as Kirishima roared and engaged the ninja.

"You're after me, right?" Rikasakusei shouted, running to help Hans and Yaoyorozu. Another crossbow bolt ruptured the ground behind his feet. "Then come at me! Leave the kids alone!"

There was no response. The woman reloaded her crossbow once again and aimed it at Hans, forcing him to hide behind Yaoyorozu's discarded tower shield. The bolt obliterated the steel, sending fragments of it into Hans's skin, causing blood to begin to stain Hans's suit and tie. Ojiro, slowed by the woman's quirk, looked positively spiteful as he slowly crested to the height of his jump.

Quickly, Sero swooped down and grabbed Hans by the waist via tape, before hoisting him into the air.

"Don't worry." he said. "The woman can't slow both of us and shoot her crossbow. She needs her hands to operate her quirk."

Hans quickly returned the Elder Tree Mother to coat his body and take out the fragments, before hastily healing himself to stop the bleeding.

"Stop it, you bastards!" Rikasakusei roared, clenching his fist and punching at the ninja, whose visible blade was no longer as big of a threat as it used to be. Knives were thrown in response, but the man's tough skin rendered them to only be superficial wounds.

"You're just a fucking idiot, aren't you?" Hans said. "Stop offering up your own life. You're needed to finish his case."

"I'm replaceable." Rikasakusei said. "There are fourteen others that switched sides with me."

"And if they attacked us here, do you really think they would leave the other fourteen alone?" Hans said. "You're probably the last one of your group left alive, idiot!"

"Then it doesn't matter," he declared. "Society clearly doesn't need me anymore. With heroes arresting me, and whoever these people are assassinating me to stop this case, I might as well go along with it and be dead!"

"I guess you're an even bigger idiot than you thought you were." Hans said. "This court case isn't about winning. It's about raising awareness. Regardless of your sentence, people need to hear your story from you, and only you. Like it or not, you have become an irreplaceable figurehead."

"That doesn't change the fact that they're willing to kill children just to silence me!" Rikasakusei said, running recklessly into another slash of the sword just to hit the ninja once. He screamed in agony as the pepper-like compound that was still on the sword made its way into his wounds, but powered through it, his whole body coursing with electricity, as he took another step towards the ninja.

As Hans ducked and weaved between crossbow shots, using his summons and appliances as cover, he thought carefully about his next words.

The reformed villain was currently almost in a berserk state, stomping forwards while disregarding any attempts to keep himself safe. But what was it that made the person with a GED and some potential so self destructive?

The answer, of course, lay in his previous statement.

Society clearly doesn't need me anymore.

Of course, it was a self esteem issue. Without even the influence of others, the people themselves had already developed a confident facade over their internal acceptance that they were wrong in some way.

There was only one way to make this right.

"I'm so going to regret this…" Hans muttered.

He activated one of his skills. Crouched behind one of Yaoyorozu's abandoned creations, he frantically used Rapid Casting E to spam out a story. Of what could have been without all of the quirk nonsense.

"You all don't understand what it's like!" Rikasakusei screamed, his eyes bloodshot as he took yet another stab to the arm without flinching. Kirishima jumped upwards to use his now sloped hardened skin to deflect a crossbow bolt that was going for the tall man's neck, only to be thrown out of the way. The crossbow bolt was deflected anyways, but Rikasakusei was nowhere near safety.

"What it feels like to be spat on!"

A wall was torn down by a fist.

"To be born wrong!"

The ninja had to dodge as half the ceiling lights were fried by the lightning emanating off of Rikasakusei's body.

"To live wrong!"

The floor panels were stomped into dust as the crossbow-wielding villain was forced to roll away from the impact crater.

"To go from job to job, interview to interview!"

Rikasakusei overextended on a punch, stumbling forwards. Almost reflexively, the ninja brought his sword upwards.

Looking at the blade seeking his neck almost in slow motion, Rikasakusei sighed. He gave up all resistance, slowly falling backwards.

This was the end, right?

He closed his eyes just as a voice echoed throughout the room.

Märchen Meines Lebens.

A story… just for you.

…

…

Rikasakusei opened his eyes on the streets.

Was he dead? Did the villain get him?

It was oddly… peaceful.

Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, he idly felt his neck, searching for a wound. There was nothing there.

Slowly, he started chuckling.

"Finally…" he sighed. "It's over… It's done… That shitshow of a life is over…"

"Hey, mister, are you okay?" a little girl said, looking up at him.

Slowly, he looked down. A perfectly normal girl looked back up, wide eyes glistening with a hint of innocence and a dash of naivety.

"Don't bother the tall man, okay?" her mother whispered. "We're sorry, sir. My daughter is just a bit too kind."

"You're… not scared of me?" he said, raising an eyebrow. That was a first.

"Why would I be?" the little girl said. "You just looked so… tired."

Then, his phone began to ring.

"Where are you, dude?" a familiar voice said. It was the voice of the younger boy with the gun-fingers. "Your job interview's in thirty minutes! Come on, man! Me and my bike are just a block away. Why the hell aren't you-"

"Job… interview?" Rikasakusei muttered. "Okay, okay. I'll be there."

He supposed that he would humor the afterlife for a bit.

"Sorry to cut this conversation short, little lady, but I have somewhere to be." he said, winking down at the little girl that wasn't scared of his scars or pale, gray skin.

"I heard you had a job interview." the mother said. "I-I'm sorry, but I didn't mean to eavesdrop on your call."

"Yeah." he said, sighing. "And I'd better go."

Quickly, he sprinted to the next street corner. The place was familiar. It almost looked like… the street right next to his apartment block. The sounds were familiar. Kids swarmed around the comic book shops, giggling and laughing over whatever their characters were doing. Old men sat around the street, showing off fresh produce or particularly tantalizing fruit.

But there was something… off… about the situation.

Nobody was glaring at him? Normally, he had no trouble at all pushing through crowds. People tended to curve around his presence akin to the way stream water curled around a rock.

Looking sideways, he peered into a beauty product shop's store window. Besides some tacky lipstick, a full-body mirror was shown. It was clearly some marketing ploy for women to look into the mirror and imagine themselves with the lipstick, or something.

He looked no different. Seven feet tall… Slightly worn suit…

Suddenly, Rikasakusei gasped. His skin… was no longer gray. Quickly, he felt his cheek again. The signature flaps of flesh that gave the impression of scars were no longer there. His face was totally smooth and fresh. His hands, though bulging with muscle, did not look as if somebody had sown the flesh there.

It was totally normal.

He was totally normal. A bit… average, in looks, other than for his height… But still.

It was everything he had ever dreamed of being.

Had whatever god up there answered his prayers? Given him a better life?

Grinning, he ran down the corner and turned to face a boy several years his younger. Looking at him, he expected to see the kid wearing his punk jacket and sporting several tattoos. Out of an inability to really hold a pencil well due to his gun-tipped fingers, the kid had dropped out of school halfway through middle school, fallen in with a bad crowd, and eventually, the neighbor's kid that used to drag him to watch cartoons was no more.

Instead, he looked… different.

His hair wasn't dyed a pale yellow anymore, and the omnipresent jacket also wasn't casually slung over his shoulders. Instead, he wore a high school uniform

"My folks at the motorcycle rental store let me use this thing for free once they heard you were going to an interview in a different city. One of us, finally going to the big city? My pa could barely believe his ears!"

"Y…you're… normal too?" Rikasakusei stuttered, reaching out a hand. It quickly shrank back, not wanting to disturb the illusion.

"What do you mean, dude?" the teen said. "I've always been like this! Now, don't wreck the bike, okay? I have to go now. My lunch break is almost over."

"You still go to school?" Rikasakusei said stupidly.

"Duh." the teen said, shrugging. "Are you really okay?"

"Nevermind that!" he shouted, taking a helmet from the boy and shoving it on his head. It was barely a fit, but he didn't care. As he waved and sped off into the distance, his face split into a grin so wide it barely fit, even on his large face.

"This really was heaven." Rikasakusei thought.

…

The bike ride almost seemed like it was nonexistent. Checking his watch, he realized that he was five minutes early. It was lucky that he didn't run into traffic.

Along the way, he looked at everybody passing by. Everybody looked perfectly normal. There were no weird hair colors. No floating constructs, billboards filled to the brim with heroes advertising products, or the heroes themselves patrolling the streets in their flamboyant costumes.

This… was a world without quirks. A world that he had somehow entered. A world where, finally, he could be seen as just another person.

Not a potential criminal. Not a violent thug hiding in plain sight.

Just another random person you'd see on the streets.

Almost anxiously, he opened the door to the accounting office. The young man at the front desk looked up at him, adjusting his glasses.

"You must be… Rikasakusei-san, right?" he said. "The boss is already waiting for you."

"T..thank you, sir." he stuttered.

"Sir?" the young man said, raising an eyebrow. "You must be nervous."

"Yeah." he said, grinning. "I am."

Slowly, he trudged up the steps that he never thought he would be able to climb. He was going to see a conference room for the first time in his life! A real, bonafide job interview!

The hinges to the conference room door opened without any squeaking. Inside, a slightly older man sat, wearing a suit and holding a mug of coffee, along with a small packet of papers.

"Sit, please, Rikasakusei-san." his interviewer said, smiling.

"Of course…" he muttered, staring dumbly at the interviewer.

"Now, let us begin. First, let's start with a couple questions about what you expect at this job…"

The interview flew by as well. Rikasakusei answered every question almost subconsciously, bringing back up memories of accounting lessons that he hadn't reviewed in almost four years. The facts still came pouring out of his mouth. The questions about procedure. The correct forms to sign. How to appease clients.

Somehow, he had remembered.

Nervously, he shifted around in his chair, waiting for the inevitable question about his quirk. Where was that?

"Okay, I think that's about it." the interviewer said. "Rikasakusei-san, I think we'll be seeing you in our firm very, very soon."

"Really?" he blurted out. "That's it? You're not going to ask me about my quirk?"

"What quirk?" the interviewer said, furrowing his brow. "Are you sure you're okay, young man?"

Suddenly, Rikasakusei grinned. He didn't look like an abomination in this life. This… was really it!

His resume was handed back to him. A quick glance told him that it was the exact same copy he had written four years ago. Community college degree in accounting, a GED instead of high school graduation, and no prior work experience.

"Of course, you'll be starting at the lower levels." the interviewer said. "Don't worry about it too much, young man. I think this IS the right job for you."

Almost in a daze, Rikasakusei walked out of the building, before looking up at the sun.

He had done it. Without his horrible quirk, he really could get a job! His effort wasn't for nothing.

Then, everything faded to black. The resume he was holding slipped out of his hands, before fading into blue sparks.

"What's going on?" he said, bringing his fists up warily. Idly, he noticed that his deathly pale skin was back. His scars were back, and the lumps of flesh that made him seem like an abomination were back.

"Sadly, this is only just an illusion." a familiar blue-haired child said, floating in the void. "A life of what could have been if you didn't live in this extraordinary era."

A tear slowly slid down his cheeks. He had almost believed that it was real. That he could have gotten a job through his own merit.

"But you could have been so much more, if only people looked at who you were on the inside." the child said. "God, this sounds so cheesy."

"Why did you do this?" Rikasakuse said, slowly falling down onto the floor. His knees slowly lost their strength, and he began to cry again.

The last time he had cried was the last day of middle school, walking off the tallest building in the schoolyard.

"Why did you show me hope? Why are you… so cruel?"

"Is it cruel?" the child said.

Rikasakusei looked up.

Behind the child, another scene played out. It was him standing in the middle of the streets again, wearing his stretched suits and hosting his slightly scary features. This time, however, only the very young shied away from him. Everybody walked past him normally, with some pedestrians even saying hello.

"That could very well be your reality, and it all starts with this court case." the blue-haired kid said. "If you choose to live, you will continue as a figurehead. You will show what society has done, and tell them that people like you… just want to live."

The scene switched to somebody like him shaking hands with an interviewee that looked exactly like the one he had just been talking with, grinning excitedly.

"If you choose to live and continue fighting for the case… nothing will happen immediately. I will make no false promises. But that future, at least, can get a little closer."

"Really?" he asked, his gravelly voice trembling within the void.

"Yes, really." the child said. "Are you ready to make your choice?"

Rikasakusei sighed, and closed his eyes.

…

Hans almost sighed in relief as the reformed villain leaned back and actually dodged the blade. His noble phantasm had somehow worked. Who knew that showing an actually normal world would motivate people?

He went over the contents of his flashback. None of it was… particularly great. Was living in a world without quirks really that big of a cultural shock?

Hans guessed it probably was.

Then, why couldn't he get the nagging feeling of dread out of his stomach?

"Let's see… Flashback, hopes for the future, minor character… Oh, no!"

"What is it?" Kirishima said, instantly assuming a defensive stance. "What's going on?"

"I just set a flag!" Hans shouted. "Run, Rikasakusei!"

"Oh, it's not him that should be running." the woman with the crossbow said, pointing a finger at Hans. He felt his movements instantly seize up.

"After all, you were on the list too." the villain said. With his slowed motion, Hans had the time to look at a single tear fall from her eyes.

The crossbow trigger was pulled.

…

AN

Edit 6/5/23: changed GED stuff. I did not do sufficient research. Thx reviewer :D

Is Hans going to die?

I think we all know the answer to that.

And about the inevitable questions about "oh, why hasn't a hero showed up yet?"

I wonder who's in charge of the hero patrol locations and stuff. Besides, all of the 5k words in the fight scene has basically lasted like… four minutes in actual time.

Fight scene words are worth like… milliseconds in the actual fight scene. Which is why they're both good to fill up on word count and tedious to write, though I hope that it was at least entertaining.

Discord link: discord . gg / 9t9MK3jHmV

If you have particularly strong thoughts about this chapter, then you can come roast me in the discord.

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

It's time to finally get rid of some cliffhangers.

-Spirit

The world had almost completely frozen as an invisible bullet shot towards Hans.

Lightning crackled as Rikasakusei stepped towards him with his superhuman speed. Kirishima and Ojiro turned their heads, reaching out their hands towards Hans's slowed figure. Sero shot his tape wildly, but the two strands that he made in that short amount of time would be too slow to intercept a crossbow bolt. Yaoyorozu had begun to create a steel net that would hopefully ensnare the bolt.

All of their efforts would be too late.

As quickly as possible, Hans tried deploying whichever summons he had left. Thumbelina, being made of mostly flesh, was punctured immediately. The Tin Soldier was somewhere else, acting as a big, metal blockade against the ninja's attacks with his still mostly-invisible weapons. And none of his other tales not deployed had the durability to actually guard against the projectile.

However, Thumbelina getting punctured showed where the bolt was headed. Rikasakusei, having followed Hans's direction to run away, was… currently approximately between the invisible bolt and Hans.

Hans looked at the determined look on the reformed villain's face, and began to shout for him to stop. To not throw away his life now that he had just gained it back from the blade. That he wasn't worth it, and that the world would continue on without Hans in its intended course.

He wanted to say that he was an interloper. A factor that wasn't supposed to be there, intruding on a narrative that was never supposed to center on him.

Rikasakusei jumped… Right in front of the villain's quirk. Now, with the woman's view of Hans obscured by his large, bulky body, Hans was free to finally scramble free.

But neither of them got off scot free.

The invisible arrowhead shot through the villain's stomach, and into Hans's shoulder. Hans screamed in pain, noticing for the first time that he had collapsed right in front of a camera. His blood poured out of his body through the gaping hole, flowed up to the lens slowly and stained the view.

He staggered to his feet, pulling the crossbow bolt out with shaking hands. He wanted to scream, but he was too dizzy to feel the pain.

The curses from his readers on his spirit origin wouldn't let him die that easily. Even now, he could feel the irritating mermaid scales that grew all over his body slowly pulsing. Bringing out his tablet, he amplified the natural healing that the mystical creatures known as mermaids had, and suddenly, his wounds didn't exactly hurt anymore. It still bled slowly, but it wasn't as life threatening.

Rikasakusei, however, didn't look so good.

Hans looked at the man lying prone on the floor, his rather disfigured face and storm gray eyes staring up into nothingness. Lighting cracked across the patchwork body, as the formidable physical paragon tried to repair itself.

"I thought I told you to live, you idiot!" Hans shouted. "You saw the future that you could have had! Why would you throw it away… just for me?"

"Because without you…" Rikasakusei rasped, "There will be no future for us."

Hans stayed silent, a glint of a tear in his eyes.

"I could continue living." he continued rasping, "But without you, the day that millions of my brethren will be free will never arrive."

In dialogue that was not at all like a medieval romance, Hans continued his shouting.

"I'm just fucking worthless!" Hans cursed. "I'm a failure of a hero, a coward, and a failure as a person!"

"You're not like that." Rikasakusei said stubbornly, one hand reaching up for Hans's face shakily. "Nobody had ever spoken up for us before. Not even All Might. For us, you are…"

"Don't die, god damn it!" Hans said, pulling out his blue tablet and channeling everything into trying to heal the fallen villain.

"Our… hero…"

The villain's arm flopped back onto the ground. Slowly, his eyes shut. Hans almost ceased his efforts, but looking at the villain's throbbing chest and the crackling electricity still coursing around Rikasakusei's body, Hans realized that he was still somewhat alive.

So, he wrote. He activated his noble phantasm again with an urgency that wasn't even rivaled by the time he saved that hero Iceblade from a simple stab wound from Stain.

Because he didn't deserve anybody's martyrdom, nobody would die for him. Not today, and not ever.

…

Sero looked down at the villain that had just almost shot Hans's arm off, and basically killed the Frankenstein-looking person.

This… was terrifying. Even worse than at the USJ. They had all come out in mostly one piece during that attack, but now?

One of their number was seriously injured, and another was on the verge of death, held to the boundaries of life by whatever Hans was doing while the diminutive student was injured himself.

It was up to the first year students to fix this. Students that had barely been in class for a month… to stop two experienced villains. They were clearly a step up from the goons at the USJ, and their quirk combination was terrifying. Being slow and not being able to run out of attack ranges against invisible bladed weapons… was a quick combination for death.

Only Kirishima and Yaoyorozu could survive anything that the ninja villain did, considering the fact that none of them could see his thrown weapons, Yaoyorozu could only survive by creating armor, and Kirishima by hardening his body.

And that was just half of the problem. Because the crossbow villain's slow quirk was terrifying.

Once he and Ojiro were slowed, they would die, either via thrown knife or crossbow bolt.

Then why was Ojiro still down there?

As Sero futilely shot tape towards the crossbow woman in order to restrain her, she slid out of the way while firing at Hans, still wholly engrossed in the typing that was somehow healing the villain's wounds. Ojiro threw up Kirishima with his tail, and the walking wall deflected the shot with more of his sloped armor.

"Just quit, kids." the ninja said. "We'll finish off those two and just be on our way."

"No way!" Kirishima shouted hotheadedly, being pulled back into the battle by Yaoyorozu's grappling hook after he was thrown. "Abandoning Hans and defendant-san would just be unmanly!"

Yaoyorozu chose this opportunity to throw two glass bottles into the air, each filled with a suspicious liquid and tipped with a bit of cloth. The crossbow woman shot a bolt at the improvised molotov cocktails, shattering them both once they lined up in their sights in front of the crossbow.

"You just made a great mistake, girl." she said. The words were menacing, but the tone was not. "We'll be forced to take you out as collateral as well."

"Are you sure about that?" Yaoyorozu said. "Check your crossbow."

"A little alcohol from your Molotovs won't do anything!" the crossbow woman said, grabbing another invisible bolt and aiming it at Yaoyorozu. She pulled back the string, but-

Snap

With a noise that reminded Sero of a violin string or a particularly taut line of tape breaking, the crossbow string… had snapped.

"It took me a while to remember." Yaoyorozu said, smirking coldly, "But peracetic acid is great at making steel rust. Most crossbows have steel strings as well, so my gamble was right."

"Now…" Ojiro said, growling in determination. "We'll take you all down!"

"Slow the girl!" the ninja commanded. "We don't need her throwing more things and rusting over all of our weapons."

Thinking quickly, the crossbow woman abandoned her now broken weapon and pointed both fingers at separate targets. One? At Kirishima, who was threatening with his invulnerability and strength. The other? At Yaoyorozu, who was a threat that could disassemble their quirk combination. The glass ball filled with paint that Yaoyorozu was about to throw clattered onto the floor and broke into shards of glass mixed with red.

"She's trying to make your weapons visible!" the crossbow woman shouted. "Watch out for projectiles."

"It's them that should be worrying, now that the girl can't throw anything." The ninja said, trying to circle around the group to throw a knife at Hans. Sero, snapping out of his shock at the sudden situational turn around, reacted much too late to try and intercept with tape.

Ojiro, however, was swift in his response. Picking up Kirishima by the neck with his tail, he swung his fellow hardened student like a movable wall. One knife stabbed into Ojiro's tail, but the other made a dull thunk on Kirishima's skin and clattered onto the ground.

Thinking fast, Sero screened off one half of the room in a practiced motion that really, really strained his elbows. Then, for good measure, he did so for the right side of the room as well.

But as he continued to snipe at the woman with the tape, he couldn't help but feel… empty.

Those three…

He didn't look down on any of his fellow students. Yaoyorozu being exceptional, he could understand. She was the first in the quirk assessment test, after all. Kirishima was tough, and a formidable opponent.

But how was Ojiro, a person that just had a tail for a quirk, being more useful than Sero, somebody that had a convenient adhesive quirk?

As he shouted to pump himself up and emptied his tape dispensers at the villain duo, the crossbow woman decided to switch her slowing quirk to target Ojiro, because him using Kirishima as a weapon was simply too annoying.

Now, Kirishima was the one free, though not any less formidable. After Kirishima handed Ojiro a curtain of chainmail to block projectiles, he went into the two on one battle with the skill of a martial arts master and the durability of a rock.

"Slow him down, Honey Jar!" the ninja shouted, constantly backing away from Kirishima's blows as his katana skidded uselessly off of Kirishima's skin.

"Do you want the tail boy to attack using him, then?" the crossbow woman said, dodging Sero's endless barrage of tape all the while.

Slowly, the villains grew more and more desperate as Kirishima pursued them with dogged determination. But something was going to give out… and that was Sero's tape reserves.

Having been firing off tape almost nonstop for the past minute, and also having created the barriers that separated the two halves of the room, Sero was almost running on empty. Slowly, he used his tape more cautiously, giving the crossbow woman breathing room that made Sero's heart start beating in his throat.

Then, the crossbow woman made her move. Bringing out several crossbow bolts, she stood still for one moment while lining up a throw, all the while pointing at least one finger from each hand at either Yaoyorozu or Ojiro.

Promptly, the dart was thrown at Yaoyorozu's leg, the one patch of bare skin that wasn't covered by chainmail…

Only for a drone to pop out of her leg and intercept it. The mess of circuitry fell to the ground, being the incomplete

"A drone?" the woman said incredulously. "What are you going to do with it?"

Yaoyorozu's slowed movements parted her arms and revealed what looked like a long, paper strip filled with holes coming out of an old card reader secured by a steel band to her upper arm, which had a weird double-sided USB protruding out of it.

"Since I'm limited to using punch cards to program these drones, all they are programmed to do is go forward." Yaoyorozu said, more drones popping out of her limbs. With quirk-induced slowness, she put the one made in her left hand up to the USB and plugged the USB into the port, and after a couple of seconds, the drone hovered into the air and flew into the wall of the court, where it crashed and broke its propellers.

"And?" the ninja wheezed, wall-jumping out of a tough spot after Kirishima had finally punched him into a corner.

"The next one will carry an anti tank shell, which will explode on impact with the ground or the walls." Yaoyorozu said coldly. "Surrender now, and I won't annihilate the building and render you all with puncture wounds from all the shrapnel."

"You don't have the guts to do it." the woman said, crossbow bolts still in her hand.

"You shot Hans in the shoulder, aiming for a kill." she said coldly. "I'm only saying this because I don't want to kill you both. There is still the need to interrogate you to determine who your real employers are."

"Stop with the nonsense!" the woman shouted, winding back her arms to throw her crossbow belts. Released from the hold of the quirk, Ojiro quickly threw his sheet of chainmail at the woman while Yaoyorozu created two more drones carrying anti-tank shells and gingerly uploaded the code from the USB, before letting them zip towards the walls.

As two bolts hit Ojiro's chainmail sheet, making the curtain-like structure ripple like water, Yaoyorozu began to run backwards.

"Brace!" she yelled. Kirishima hardened and shielded his eyes as Ojiro sprang backwards, wrapping himself in the chainmail sheet.

With a fiery explosion that Sero had only seen rivaled by Bakugo's gauntlet grenades, the walls were annihilated in a bright flash of white. Quickly averting his eyes, he saw the ninja villain effortlessly slice through the tape barrier, having abandoned his comrade to brave the explosion herself.

The single-layered tape barrier that was Sero's best effort.

The ninja stepped through the barrier while a chunk of flying concrete stabbed through his thigh and a piece of rebar impaled his foot. As Kirishima ran to stop the villain from making it to Hans, a yellow-and-red flash came into the room from the now exposed sky and knocked an invisible knife out of the air with a slash of a swordlike object.

"I'm sorry I'm late." the number three hero, Hawks, said.

Sero felt stunned, hanging from the crumbling ceiling and looking at Hawks's confident smile.

Even though he had survived unscathed, there was a lingering sense of inadequacy that remained. It was his failure that the ninja villain had gotten past the weak tape barrier. It was his fault that he couldn't restrain the crossbow woman.

Suddenly, talking down on Hans and his associates, who he had seen as unheroic and whiny, felt hypocritical.

Because while they went above and beyond their roles, what was he doing? As he fell, he sighed. Why did thinking about it like that make him feel so… defeated?

Wait, fell?

Sero had to be brought out via fireman carry.

…

In the end, when the tape barrier was broken down and the villains had been restrained (and given emergency medical care), the first responders finally reached Hans.

As the media flooded the broken-down courtroom and began to take frantic pictures of the injured students and the courtroom before anybody could shoo them out, Hans was glowing gold at that point. A shimmery gold powder slowly floated away into the blue sky as he gritted his teeth, bled from his shoulder wound, and kept Rikasakusei alive.

"It's alright, kid." Hawks said, a glint of… something in his eyes. His grip tightened on his feather sword for a second, before it loosened. "The fight's over."

"I can't repair organs on the fly." Hans said, still frantically typing things that vaguely resemble sentences describing healing processes. "And I'll be out of energy soon. Is another person with a healing quirk here, or…"

"The hospital is the best choice, kid." Hawks said. "The ambulance is already here. Stop before you suffer quirk exhaustion."

"Do you want him to die?" Hans said, narrowing his eyes and looking at Hawks.

"Of course not." Hawks said. "It's just that… sometimes, it's too late to do anything for some people. He should have died a long time ago."

"...Fine, then. Take me to the hospital with him." Hans said stubbornly, looking at Rikasakusei slowly slipping from life.

…

"Fourteen of the villains are dead." one of the board members said to the present. "One in critical condition."

"And will they survive?"

"We can't influence the healthcare system." the board member said. "But with all of the villain attacks that we sparked today, most doctors should be treating wounds. Today will go down as a second attack by the League of Villains."

"How many of our operatives were captured?"

"Airslash and Honey Jar were captured at the courtroom. Poison Dart was not captured at the police station, and was able to escape undetected. Apart from that, from the street disturbance crew, Whiparm, Lightning Rod, and Flint were captured.

"That's five people gone…" the president sighed. "And… the boy?"

"He's still alive. In fact, with his healing and support type quirk, he was able to keep the last villain alive. They're on the way to the hospital as we speak."

The president sighed. She didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed.

"Should we really have done this?" one of the other board members said, his sleep deprived expression finally morphing into one of concern.

"This was the only way." the president said. "Besides, we've done it to Destro and the Meta Liberation Army. Even if these sixteen don't know it, they are boosting his cause, and slowly accelerating the destruction of the Hero system and society."

"How can this Hans kid be so blind?" somebody muttered. "Without heroes and the illusion they paint, society will collapse!"

"It's a tenuous peace that we keep afloat. None of us will like what we're doing but it's what has to be done." the president said. "For now… let's hope that the villain dies, and that we can nip this court case in the bud. With any luck, the UA sports festival will wash this stuff away from the news within three weeks."

…

"He's lost too much blood already." the young doctor said, his eye buzzing with some sort of quirk energy that was giving him information. Two of his organs are pulverized, but those are a stomach and a kidney. He'll survive the organ loss."

Hans felt his vision slip in and out as everything slowly shook. He didn't know whether or not it was because of the mana loss or the blood loss.

"Get me a blood bag." he slurred.

"Injecting it into him won't do any good." the young doctor said nervously. "He has too many exposed wounds. It-"

"I said, get me a blood bag! Any type!" Hans shouted. "I'm about to run out of energy here! Do you want this person to die?"

"Get him a blood bag. The most common type." the doctor ordered. A nurse scrambled to fulfill the order.

Drinking the salty blood through a straw, Hans felt some of his mana return. His vision refocused, and he stopped glowing gold. Sighing in relief, he noted that his existence was stabilizing again.

"The lot of you, keep him alive for ten minutes." Hans said. "I'm going to pull a… super move. Yeah, that. It'll hopefully regenerate this wound."

"Y-you can do that?" the doctor asked hopefully.

"I don't know." Hans said, shrugging. Most of his healing experience only extended to healing heroic spirits, which was much easier than working with actual flesh and blood.

"But I can try."

As various tubes and people with helpful quirks tried to stall the bleeding and delay the inevitable, Hans plunged deep into his noble phantasm once again.

…

There was nothing.

Absolutely nothing there.

Contrary to Ojiro's narrative mindscape, absolutely nothing was in Rikasakusei's mindscape. Which made sense, considering the fact that he wouldn't even have been involved in the court case or do anything significant without Hans's interference.

The comatose figure within the mindscape floated in the void, illuminated by a blue ambience. His stomach was still missing.

And for a character to survive, they had to possess some sort of significance to the story. Luckily, he had a storyline… sort of on hand.

There was a servant in Chaldea, also named Frankenstein, that he had to tolerate during the London singularity, something that nobody probably remembered. However, during that time, he had gotten a pretty good picture of her barely present personality.

A homunculus created to be a partner to another, she was deemed as a failure and eventually murdered her creator. However, all she really desired was… to be a real human being.

Something that (minus the murder part) Rikasakusei could probably relate to. Looking like an abomination, and wanting to be a real human. Although Hans doubted that Rikasakusei would ever find the act of presenting dead dog intestines as a present to be proper like the Frankenstein in Chaldea did according to her lore, it was… close enough.

Quickly, he began to write. He didn't know how long he still had until Rikasakusei finally collapsed from his wounds. From nowhere, flowers began to blossom. At first, they were stray petals, but eventually, a scene not unlike when Merlin used his noble phantasm was created. The whole blank surface that Hans was standing on spontaneously sprouted white lilies, glowing ephemerally blue as they were influenced by the glow of Hans's blue tablet. The stems of the flowers began to writhe and spread, seeking any space upon which they could grow and ingraining themselves into the nothingness.

Slowly, the void was filled with piercing white, and all that Hans could do at that point was hope that the two stories were compatible enough for Rikasakusei to survive.

…

Opening his eyes, he discovered that he had replaced Rikasakusei's stomach with a bunch of pulsating white flowers.

And somehow… he was still alive.

"Oh, god…" Hans whimpered as the medical staff recoiled from the body. "What have I done?"

Then, Rikasakusei woke up and began to scream.

…

"Surprisingly, you are actually still stable." the young doctor said. "Despite the, well… vegetation growing out of your stomach."

"These are flowers?" Rikasakusei said, raising his eyebrow and looking down. "Oh fuck, they are!"

"...What were you screaming about then, sir?"

"Somehow, I dreamt about chasing somebody to the south pole and watching them… well…" Rikasakusie trailed off. "And all the while, I was wearing a dress for some reason. Is this normal for people that suffer major blood loss?"

"I… may be able to explain that." Hans said from the side, his wound now being bandaged by the various nurses swarming around the medical anomaly that the both of them were.

What type of quirk gave somebody mermaid scales? And makes flowers grow to replace organs?

…

In the holding car, the wrapped up villains were driven away slowly from the court. Eventually, it stopped on a conveniently empty street alley, before two people wearing suits stepped in.

"...Are you our dispatcher?" Airslash muttered.

"No." the man grunted. "But I was sent here by them."

"Did we do good?" Airslash wheezed, looking at Honey Jar's rather dire situation. Despite not being in danger of dying, she was utterly mangled by the shrapnel of the anti tank shell and the crumbling wall.

"No. Both targets survived."

Airslash's breath seized up. With a cough, he covered up the sounds of the dull thump of rope hitting ground, before he planned his escape.

This was not going to end well for them. He knew the nature of his work.

"You all have been deemed liabilities, and-"

Airslash shouted, jumping out with his fists and a last hidden knife, and struck for the two suited men.

He was promptly kicked to the side of the transport car, before a gun was aimed at his head.

"Goodbye. Your employment at the Association was not a fruitful investment."

Many things flashed across his mind. His fake life. His struggles of surviving and his harsh training. Every time he had done what he was told, and all of the times he had stopped himself from doing what he wanted.

Were the only people that sort of knew him the scammers he kept bothering for conversations?

Two gunshots echoed across the empty alleyway, before the other person in a suit swiped his hand and activated his quirk, causing a ravenous bunch of throbbing plant mass to rapidly devour the two corpses, before returning down the second man's sleeves.

"Leave the car before you cross a third block. It will explode."

The agent in the front seat nodded.

…

"Hey, this camera still works. It even still has its mic attached." two tabloid reporters said, kneeling down in a pool of blood besides a torn-up steel structure too deformed to be identified. Gingerly he lifted the blood-crusted camera off of the ground and tucked it into his jacket.

"Send that footage to me later, okay?"

"Hey, you two! The media isn't allowed in here! Scram!" one of the first responders shouted, waving a baton threateningly.

They quickly left the building, the only known recorded copy of the battle within their clutches.

Hopefully, that wraps up the court attack. And remember that, even after all this, Hans still has to go back to testify because he was never successfully called to the stand, and the defense side would obviously call Hans as a witness.

His pain shall never end.

Hopefully, I portrayed the new and improved trio pretty well. Yaoyorozu learned to be more creative, Kirishima learned how to fight and not just be a wall, and Ojiro learned that actually using tools probably enhances his combat capability, along with martial arts training. This was a bad matchup for Ojiro, though.

TY to the discord peeps for editing literally all of the chapters of this fic. I may have forgotten to mention it a couple of times, so I'm thanking them now.

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

This fic returns! After almost a week!

Well, last chapter's AN troll didn't work out quite as well. Again, I wanted to scare you all with a fake cliffhanger, but a lot of people didn't read the end of chapter PS and then actually thought this fic was ending.

I won't toss this fic to the trash… for now. And I won't cry in any of your yards like historical Hans did if you insult it… for now.

Enjoy!

-SpiritOfErebus

…

(T-minus 20 days)

"This… was an attack by the League of Villains." the hero association spokesman said, in the midst of a ton of flashing cameras and clamoring reporters.

After the brief silence in the aftermath of the statement, the room exploded once more.

(T-minus 19 days)

"This… was not an attack by the League of Villains." the journalists analyzing the footage said.

"First, that was obviously a smoke bomb, meaning that it wasn't the work of the black mist villain reported back at the USJ. Secondly, there was a definite pause between Hans Christian Andersen's question and the villain's answer, showing hesitation." he said, pausing the court camera video feed. "Before you say that this was all fake, it was recording all of the footage from before the attack as well, and that wasn't released anywhere else. This means that… this is the only camera that survived the incident. And that our conclusions were valid."

Their bosses nodded. Their second-rate newspaper and online journal was honestly struggling to even stay afloat, and any semi-sensible take about this topic that would cause discussion would probably keep them going for a little longer.

"So, what form should the article be in?"

"...Let's just try a video essay."

(T-minus 18 days)

Hans walked out of the hospital, adjusting the bandages that wrapped the previously serious puncture wound. With the help of what healing magecraft he understood, and without the help of his noble phantasm (he did not want to turn that part of his body entirely into inflexible mermaid scales), he was able to give a statement for the courts while pretending to be injured, then being discharged the next day.

He really didn't want to go back to the courtroom.

Thankfully, Rikasakusei was perfectly willing to keep fighting. Though inconvenienced with the fact that he now could not digest any animal products and was therefore forced to go vegan, his digestive system was so efficient now that he didn't even need to eat three meals. Just one and a half.

As his parents welcomed him and frantically checked him for residual wounds, Hans spoke.

"Remember two weeks ago, when we had that conversation after the USJ?" Hans muttered.

"Yeah, son." his father said, tussling Hans's hair. Hans did not resist, seeing as his upper body was currently being secured by his mother's various illusionary quirk hands as she ran her real hands around Hans's body to detect anything more abnormal than the mermaid scales and burns all over his body.

"Then there's no need to say anymore." Hans said. "Though I do feel like I was pretty useless."

"You saved a man's life!" his father said. "That's the second time you've done that in the fifteen years of your life!"

"He wouldn't have gotten hurt if I wasn't so incompetent." Hans said.

"Don't worry… you're still learning." his mother mumbled. "I still couldn't really independently use the third pair of hands I have until I was in college, you know. Quirks take time."

Despite the mild discomfort and the fact that his abilities literally could not get stronger, the actions made him feel… warm.

"By the way, the villains were after me." Hans said, nonchalantly. "Didn't the Self Defense Cooperative or something send a flier? You might want to sign up for that thing so they'll actually take care of our neighborhood."

"J-join a gang?" his mother said. "Isn't that just a bit extreme?"

"I dunno." Hans said, shrugging. "But at least they don't look like a gang anymore. Did you know that they did that supposedly violent labor strike, and that all of their actions were counted as necessary company-related defense measures?"

"...How do you know about this, son?" his father said.

"I had a lot of time relaxing on that hospital bed." Hans said, walking out into the streets and looking for their family bike. "Where's the bike, by the way?"

"We, uh, took a taxi."

Hans immediately whirled on his father, spitting curses about wasting money.

With a slightly abashed, yet happy grin, his father accepted the punishment. After all, their son hadn't changed… too much.

Now, if only the world stopped trying to kill their son, things would be even better.

(T-minus 17 days)

"Hans-buchou, welcome back." the trio said, standing up and bowing when Hans approached the entrance of the room.

Hans immediately backed out of the room.

"Sorry," he said immediately. "Wrong room."

"...I think we weirded him out."

"But calling him sensei or senpai is a bit strange." Yaoyorozu wondered.

"And you thought that calling him manager was better?"

"What the fuck?" Bakugo muttered, uncharacteristically quiet. "Did he start a fucking cult or something?"

(T-minus 16 days)

Some strange footage was released.

And the internet exploded… once again.

As the relatively professional journalists hired an analyst to try and determine who actually sent the villains to attack the courtroom, the Hero Association was under fire once more.

"Where is the footage sourced?" one of the board members said, a bit stressed out now that they were hosting another meeting in the same week about the exact same topics.

"Yohaku Media. Their footage is actually sourced from the courtroom, too, so there's absolutely no saying that the footage was a fabrication." the media monitor said nervously, looking at all of the high profile members of the Hero Association standing before him.

"And why is that?"

"Because the court system has confirmed that the camera indeed has lost footage, and that the media company should share the information with them so they can keep a record of the proceedings."

"...The court case is going to keep going?"

"We didn't kill all of the villains. They'll keep going until a conclusion is reached."

(T-minus 15 days)

"This is Konspiracy Kabuto here. Thank you for the good reception on the last video about why there are chemicals in the water that are giving all of the animals quirks. I'm here today to talk about a more serious topic."

Todoroki's breath seized up as he curled up in front of his computer. It was a brief moment of respite he was allowed after dinner. Apparently, even Endeavor wasn't demanding enough to try and make him train after eating.

As one of the loyal viewers to Konspiracy Kabuto's channel, he had been a subscriber since the man wearing a tinfoil hat over his beetle horns had just begun, posting videos about why All Might wasn't real. Todoroki disagreed, but some of the points that the content creator made, like why All Might was only appearing around Musutafu these days, made some sense.

After Konspiracy Kabuto stopped playing his intro, he continued on with the video. Todoroki prepared to listen to what shocking piece Konspiracy Kabuto came up with, bringing out a notebook and pencil himself.

"Today, I'm going to talk about why the Hero Association is evil!"

Todoroki paused. That wasn't what he was expecting. Sure, there were suspicious points about the Hero Association's response, but his father was the literal number two hero. If he was being controlled by the association, the association weren't doing a very good job.

As the beetle-horned man ranted on about minute details in the footage, Todoroki quickly sketched a diagram of the courtroom and slowly began to go over what had happened.

Sure, the combat skill that his classmates had demonstrated was slightly worrisome for the sports festival coming up, but they were almost all close range fighters, and Yaoyorozu was pretty slow in making that big explosion, honestly. His ice could still probably freeze them instantly.

What was weird, however, was how the Hero Association lawyer seemed to put their hands in their pockets just as the smoke grenade exploded and the walls of the court broke.

But if Konspiracy Kabuto, a highly educated defender of truth didn't see it, then Todoroki deemed it not as important.

Did the Hero Association do it? Maybe.

Todoroki would add this to his wall. He would have to buy some more red yarn in the future.

(T-minus 14 days)

"Hey, keep it still! Keep it steady, okay? I'm still recovering." Hans said, sitting on top of Ojiro and using Kirishima as a desk. Yaoyorozu was sitting in the corner of the room filled with concrete pillars, yawning and producing what looked like purple slime.

"How are those sleeping compounds coming along?" Hans said, looking at Yaoyorozu.

"It's… ahhh…" Yaoyorozu yawned, almost using the hand that she was making the substances with to stifle her yawn. "Still… a work in progress…"

"I told you to use a gas mask!" Hans shouted. "Even if you don't absorb the chemicals because it's all coming out of your skin and there's no force making you absorb it, you can still inhale it!"

From across the arena, several students were taking a water break.

"I don't know how they do it." Sero said, to a group of students that were relaxing from their own efforts at expanding their quirk's usability. "It doesn't look like they're doing much, but they… really owned the villains back at the court. I was… pretty useless, to be perfectly honest.

Aoyama said nothing.

(T-minus 10 days)

"Hawks's hero rank is dropping."

Hawks sat in the room with the generically clothed agents sent from the high command.

"Well, what do you think would happen after you ordered me to delay going to the court as much as possible?" Hawks said, smiling easily and crossing his arms. "If my efficiency goes down, my hero rank goes down. Especially in an incident as public as this."

"Well, thankfully, nobody suspected it was intentional." the agent said. "So, continue with your normal operations."

(T-minus 9 days)

"I've realized something!" Konspiracy Kabuto said, gesticulating wildly in front of the camera in his video. "Hawks is working for the Hero Association."

All heroes do. Todoroki thought.

But that was something that was going to go on his wall. Reaching under his bed, he almost pulled out his yarn, before he heard heavy footsteps in the hall.

Quickly, he shut his computer and slid a wall over his elaborate conspiracy map.

Nobody would know that he had been doing this. Not even people beyond these four walls.

(T-minus 5 days)

"I… apologize." Hawks said, his normally easygoing smile now a completely serious expression. "My inattention was the reason that the students were so endangered. But amidst the calls during the spree of attacks of indeterminate origin, that really was the best I could do."

"But isn't your quirk heavily tied to speed, sir? I-"

"-about the sudden change in route that many hero fans had noticed weeks ago-"

"-confirm the rumors of the fact that you are working for the-"

"Silence!" one of the press conference managers shouted. "One at a time! One at a time, please!"

Hawks sighed, and pointed at one of the reporters. Nothing could have beaten his training with the association in terms of pain, but this was getting to become a close second.

If only he wasn't the son of a villain… and if only he didn't have to rely on a fake identity provided by them to survive.

He felt sorry for all the other children that the association had taken in and trained as their agents. The thought of speaking the truth bubbled up on his lips, but he quickly swallowed the words and quenched the thoughts.

After all, this society still needed the Hero Association, right?

Right?

(T-minus 3 days)

"Are we all set with the plan?" Yaoyorozu said, sitting in a cafe with two others.

"I still don't get why I need to get Hans." Kirishima muttered. "I'm-"

"You have to be the one." Ojiro said firmly. "You are his antithesis. You're optimistic. You're dedicated. And you can show him that a bright future exists for people that do their best."

"Not me…" Yaoyorozu muttered. "I was just blinded by my apparent superiority because of my upbringing. I still had so much unfulfilled potential, but I wasted my years… playing pretend. Thinking that I was special."

"I had already given up." Ojiro said, looking up with tearful eyes. "I knew that I was simply… designed to be inferior to literally everybody else in the class. I was so… normal… so unremarkable… Hans changed that. But that still doesn't change the fact that I had accepted that I was normal."

"I… I'm a coward, too." Kirishima muttered. "Do you remember when Hans used his quirk on me during the USJ?"

"You stood up to the monster that crushed Aizawa-sensei instantly." Yaoyorozu said. "That was impressive."

"I was shown my failure… somehow…" Kirishima said. For a moment, he gritted his teeth, unwilling to say what came to his mind. Then, he sighed. "It was when I didn't act to try to save somebody. I just stood there, paralyzed, as a giant villain threatened two girls. I didn't even think of doing something."

"And now… you're here. At UA. Trying to be a hero after two terrorist attacks." Yaoyorozu said, patting the teenager on his shoulder. "We're all working for a brighter future for both ourselves and society. Hans just needs another person to tell them that…"

"Tell him what?" Ojiro asked, curious.

"No, it's silly." Yaoyorozu muttered. "It's kind of stupid, actually."

"Just say it." Kirishima said, smiling ruefully.

"To tell him that he's doing great."

(T-minus 1 day)

It was the day before the sports festival. On that day, Hans slept… really well. It was a dreamless sleep. He closed his eyes, slowly wading through the abyss of sleepiness for a couple of minutes, fell asleep, and then woke up.

Looking out at the Sunday sun, Hans felt the urge to do absolutely nothing. Tomorrow would be a troublesome day.

Yawning, he put on a button-up shirt and slipped on his blue slippers, before his back settled into a slouch. Snapping his fingers in his room, a place heavily saturated with his attempts at creating a bounded field, many things sprang into action immediately.

His potted plants watered themselves. His empty fish tank cleaned itself, despite it not exactly needing to… considering the fact that the little mermaid had gone to visit a little girl a couple of days ago.

Atop the doorframe, two bronze stars were tacked above the door frame. Hans smirked when he saw the constant reminder that he was literally designed to be an inferior servant and heroic spirit, before stepping out into the small living room that was directly connected to the kitchen.

Outside of his window, a parade of blue flags with the words SDC printed on them flew atop the doorway of his neighbors, and even in front of the grocery store. A red blur and a green flash in the distance chased what looked like a dark shadowy poster thing.

It was a common sight at this point. Hans wondered what hooligans with nothing better to do were chasing the poor, poor posters.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Hans asked a potted plant.

Out of the potted plant, the Elder Tree mother crawled. Storing some of the dirt that came out with it into a cup made of roots, it shambled over to the table, bringing some cereal with it.

"Do you want milk in your cereal?" the tree said, presenting a milk carton.

Hans looked at the japanese crawling over the milk, being sponsored by some sort of bovine hero.

Implications of the sponsorship aside, it was sort of sickening to have heroes literally everywhere. Didn't people get tired of celebrity worship?

"No." Hans said. "I don't feel like I deserve it."

The dry cereal made his gums feel like they were being scrubbed with sandpaper.

(The Day)

The day had come, and Hans felt like… something was off.

It wasn't the tense air. Everybody was uttering and glaring at each other, some sort of implied warning spreading across the school like a virus.

It wasn't the twitching muscles of nervous students right before a test. It wasn't the cold sweat that Hans could see had stained the uniform shirts out of the anticipation of humiliation or glory.

There was no rain, and there was no storm that was on the horizon.

But still, there was something there that wasn't there before.

Walking to the changing rooms and holding the clothes that were a size too large for him, Hans found it. What everybody else had felt and what Hans knew existed.

Lingering hope. Optimism. Unrealistic expectations of their own abilities. People deluding themselves into thinking that they would do well in a pointless event designed to make UA billions through advertisements, broadcasting rights, and reaffirming the fact that there would always be more heroes pouring out of the system, ready to serve society by maintaining a pointless status quo.

His reverie was disrupted by an angry blonde.

"Listen up here, you little fucker." Bakugo said in a deep and menacing voice. Hans looked up calmly.

"Do you always talk so loud because of yourself?" Hans asked.

"What the fuck are you saying?" Bakugo said, growling. "I'm talking to you here."

"Ah. You didn't hear me." Hans said, grinning. "Perhaps the persistent explosions have caused some lingering health issues, huh?"

"Piss off!" Bakugo said, kicking the wall besides Hans and swaggering away. Bakugo was already done changing. "I'll show you during the festival that all your bullshit is meaningless. All your speeches and your talks are just you bitching about being weak."

Bakugo turned, his red eyes glowing with anticipation.

"Nothing matters in the face of true strength."

Hans sighed. Hopefully, this would be the last pointless challenge of the day. This festival was already a gathering of tropes. The protagonist would struggle, and then win or something. Powers would awaken. Rivalries would be set and flashbacks would become the spirit of the land.

Hans wanted nothing to do with it. Therefore, during the first event, he decided that he would just… sit there… and refuse to participate, consequences be damned.

If he would be kicked out of the hero course for that, then so be it. This was the limit of his ability, after all, and he had only survived that crossbow bolt because Rikasakusei was stupid enough to jump in front of it.

"Why am I doing so much internal monologuing?" Hans muttered. "It's not like anything I think matters."

And then, Todoroki approached Midoriya, and issued a pointless challenge of his own. Clearly creating a rivalry theme for the upcoming event.

With the tentative hopes in his internal monologue shattered, Hans numbly put on his uniform, rolled up the sleeves, and with the giant letters 'U' and 'A' on his torso and legs respectively because of the sports uniform, followed the rest of his classmates to showboat in a glorified gladiatorial competition in front of millions in the country that wanted to watch high schoolers try to impale or explode each other.

…Great.

Education was really just so practical sometimes.

The sports festival starts next chapter. I didn't want to split the race up into different chapters, so I left you with this transition chapter.

It'll take a while to plan and write, so, uh… It'll take a bit.

Also, if somebody can catch the music reference, you get a digital cookie!

Discord link: di scord . gg / 9t9MK3jHmV

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

And here's the first sports festival chapter: the race! Hopefully, this chapter would be sort of fun and showcase a thing called teamwork.

You'd normally expect that dur ing the second task, but whatever.

-SpiritOfErebus

Contrary to the rather gloomy day yesterday, today had skies that were brilliantly blue and almost completely devoid of clouds.

The two hundred and twenty first year students stepped onto the open field in front of thousands of people that each probably spent about 7000 yen for their seats. It was about the price of a seat to a popular baseball game seat, and Hans could see the various attendants selling foods like they would sell at a ball game milling up and down the metallic bleachers.

The shape of the whole stadium almost felt like this was a gladiatorial event. Though to be fair, it basically was.

As everybody gathered up by class, Hans could feel the hostile glares cutting into his backside. His three weirdly protective cronies hovered around him, glaring back at the offending gazes and stretching in an intimidating manner. Though Yaoyorozu gathered gazes of… very different intentions, she was mostly oblivious to them, instead interpreting them as hostile as well.

Bending down, Hans adjusted the rather uncomfortably rolled up pant legs. He was almost tempted to ask for scissors from the resident moving Staples store, but the common decency of him still walking to a set location didn't allow him to stop completely.

"And for the first group that enters the arena, these kids are no stranger to the front lines!"

Present Mic's voice rang out within the tunnel, trying to flashily introduce each of the classes in the good old-fashioned "hype a gladiator up and get people to bet on them and then have them be killed" speech patterns.

"...Again, I want to emphasize this." Hans said to his class. "We are competing in a glorified gladiator event. We are going to be trying to hurt and knock each other out of something in front of the entire nation. While they eat snacks and discuss who will win."

"Shut it, you wuss…" Bakugo muttered, his strangely shadowy grin not diminishing because of Hans's atmosphere-killing statements. Kirishima almost broke the walking formation to go and confront Bakugo, but Ojiro quickly put a hand on his shoulder and dragged him back.

"Not yet." he muttered.

"Even after the Villain attack at the USJ, they still haven't lost their drive! It's the hero course students of class 1-A!" Present mic triumphantly finished.

As the others in the group looked up at the crowds nervously, Hans's cronies looked and nodded at each other for some reason… reaffirming some strange plan that Hans was not told about.

"They haven't been getting as much screen time as the other class, but they're no less notable! It's class 1-B of the hero course!"

Behind them, despite being completely equal in every way, the students of class 1-B stood behind the row of 1-A students. How suspicious. A few of them didn't look like they appreciated being behind 1-A in introductions. Despite the fact that they obviously would be due to being the second letter of the alphabet.

As the rest of the courses slowly marched in, with some support students wearing fancy gadgets that looked like they could either kill or be what a clown wore at a birthday party, the triumphant music blaring through the speakers ceased, and another hero was introduced.

"This year's umpire for the first year's event is the R-rated heroine, Midnight!"

There was instant uproar in the crowds. As the neuron activation driven creatures known as men blushed and murmured to each other, the women in the crowd flushed angrily.

"This is being broadcast across Japan, where even a five year old can access television." Hans muttered. "Why are they doing this? Every time I want to stop talking and just go with the flow, they have to throw something like this at us."

The students were not idle in their chatter as well.

"I agree, vice president." Iida said pompously. "This matter of attire is not appropriate for a high school event, and that's not considering the risk of young children being exposed to… explicit material."

Kaminari blushed and averted his eyes. Yaoyorozu, however, instantly began to analyze the costume for its various design flaws.

"Hanging handcuffs may be a hindrance during stealth and combat…" she muttered. "Tight bodysuits, while allowing for mobility, also provides no protection. And with a quirk that has no combat application, anybody wearing a gas mask would be able to defeat her as long as the whip is disabled."

"Good job." Hans said. "Now… go say it to our teacher's face, please."

"Silence!" Midnight shouted, cracking her whip to accentuate her statement. "Now, it's time for a student representative to recite the pledge. Bakugo Katsuki, come up to the stage!"

Hans resisted the urge to facepalm on live television. Then, he remembered that he was planning on violating everything the sports festival stood for by not participating, and then facepalmed anyways.

What was UA doing? Why were they inviting a PR disaster on stage to speak? Why?

With his slouched positioning and his hands in his pockets, Bakugo approached the mic how a delinquent might approach a scrawny middle schooler holding their lunch money. After circling the device one, he faced the crowd of students, teachers and random civilians, then began to speak.

"I just want to say… I'm going to win."

Hans shrugged. At least it wasn't something offensive. As Hans closed his eyes and prayed for the destruction of UA's reputation at a later date, the crowd around him erupted.

"What do you think you're saying, you arrogant bastard?"

"Boo! Get off the stage!"

"Stop being so disrespectful!" Iida bellowed, his arms swinging around like a cyclone's rotation. "You're representing us all!"

"It's not my fault the rest of you are either just unheroic bastards…" Bakugo said, looking at Hans. "Or stepping stones to my victory."

As he walked off the stage, almost everybody glared at the blonde. Midoriya seemed to have some sort of revelation as Bakugo bumped into his shoulder aggressively, but Hans just shrugged again.

This was just teenagers being teenagers.

"Now, it's time for us to get started!" Midnight said into her own mic. "This is where you begin to feel the pain… And the first trial is…"

Behind her, a screen began to display a huge roulette.

"What could it be?" she said sensually. Hans cringed back, being reminded of a certain… other black haired woman whose identity hinged on… tantric rituals.

"An obstacle course race!"

Of course it was a race.

Hans looked down at his stubby little legs, and sighed. Even if he wanted to compete, he probably wouldn't be able to finish the whole thing.

What was UA's obsession with races? First, the recommended exam for admission. Then the quirk assessment test.

It didn't matter to Hans anyways.

"And as long as you don't leave the four kilometer course, you're free to do whatever your hearts desire! That's right! Quirk use, disrupting other students! Anything is allowed."

As the crowd cheered and the students on the grass field turned to see the opened gate to four kilometers of competitive hell…

Hans sat down.

Putting his hand on his chin, he looked at the mounting tension amongst the students willing to throw themselves through a gauntlet of whatever dangers the race hosted just for a chance to become a hero.

Some race lights turned on abruptly, and a ripple of anxiety swept through the racers. Shoulders braced. Legs found better footing on the soft grass. People began to push past each other for a better spot on the starting line.

"And… start!"

It was a very peaceful day. The sky was blue… The wind was pleasant… And why was Hans in the air?

"Ojiro! Get out of the crowd!"

Wall-jumping past the pack of examinees currently trying to force themselves through the narrow tunnel that led to the beginning of the course, Ojiro was the first to exit the tunnel, surprisingly. Hooking his tail to the ledge, he caught the tip of a grappling hook that Yaoyorozu shot towards him. Then, grabbing Kirishima, who had Hans secured under his arm, who felt like a weird limpet, Yaoyorozu pulled herself towards Ojiro above the crowd.

And then, the tunnel filled with an icy cold mist. Sheens of ice began to crawl up the tunnel as Hans watched in shocked silence.

He was… moving forward?

And just as the Ice reached the roof and flooded the racetrack ahead, Ojiro, Yaoyorozu, and Kirishima hit the ground, with Ojiro softening the impact by holding onto the group and slapping the ground with his tail.

"Plan 4.2!" Yaoyorozu shouted, sliding forwards on the ice and destroying her shoes first by producing a bunch of junk, and then making a set of skis for herself. Throwing back both the grappling gun and the hook, she anchored the center of the rope to herself, made one giant fan that was secured to a metal band around her chest, and then began to ski forward.

Ojiro and Kirishima caught the gun and the hook head respectively, then slid forwards with Yaoyorozu.

"And in a stunning display of teamwork, a group of Class 1-A students have taken the lead!" Present mic shouted. "What the heck is this? Is it even allowed?"

"There weren't rules about collaboration!" Midnight judged, looking at the four students. "I'll allow it!"

Todoroki looked at the four receding into the distance on his own ice, sighed, and ran forwards himself. The students behind him slipped and staggered on the ice, but certain students were able to brave the obstacles. Bakugo erupted from the crowd, sailing above the ground with his explosions, and Sero, copying Ojiro, began to swing from the fences on the side.

"Put me down, you idiots!" Hans shouted, pummeling Kirishima's hardened side. "I didn't ask for this, damn it!"

Yaoyorozu shouted something, but the fan on her back didn't exactly allow her voice to travel backwards. As a curve came up ahead, the three in the back were swung towards one of the fences. Hardening his arm and bracing up against the fence, Kirishima responded.

"You're not participating because you don't think that you can be a hero, right?"

"It's a profession of idiots, hypocrites, and those with death wishes!" Hans ranted. "The industry is broken, society is broken up because of it, and any semblance of sanity is drowned out by the incessant prattling of hero culture!"

"Exactly!" Kirishima shouted. "And you're doing a great job by addressing it! But first, you gotta win the event!"

"And why should I do that?" Hans shouted back, giving up on wriggling.

"Because if you don't, then people are just going to think that you're whining about not being able to do well." Kirishima said.

Hans fell silent. Despite the obvious logical fallacies in that statement, he could see where the logical fallacies were coming from.

And he was stupid for not seeing it sooner.

Bakugo was right in a sense. This world did run on strength, even though it really, really shouldn't. And the only way to change that was to get rid of any possibility of the protagonist doing well… and proving to everybody else that he was saying that hero society was broken despite the fact that he was going to be a hero, not in spite of the fact that he couldn't.

"And besides…" Kirishima said. "Don't you want to knock Bakugo down a peg or two? You really toasted me back in the first day of school, so why not take this as an opportunity to say what you want to say on live television?"

"When would I be able to do that?" Hans said.

"The third round. "Ojiro said calmly. "It's always a one-on-one fighting tournament."

"Okay, then." Hans said. "Get me onto your shoulders. We're going to destroy this symbol of the shounen genre."

Kirishima grinned like a shark, and hoisted Hans on top of his shoulders.

"Let's show them how stupid this race really is."

As the ice slick ran out, their group encountered… ten gigantic robots.

"I'll take back what I said." Hans muttered. "We should retreat."

"That… isn't an option." Ojiro said, looking backwards.

"You're fucking dead, you midget!" Bakugo roared, each and every word punctuated with a crackling explosion.

Todoroki, having sealed most of the examinees behind an ice wall, walked out of the icy mist like a wraith.

"Prepare to be crushed…" he muttered, about to swing his hands forwards.

"...Oh, god damn it." Hans muttered. "Little Match girl!"

Said summon popped straight into existence above Hans. Then, she saw Todoroki, squealed, and immediately emptied the basket of matches she always carried around them.

Then, the iceberg came. Kirishima quickly put Hans down and hardened himself up as a shield, but as the frost approached, the matches burst into a great pillar of flame, forcing the ice to flow around the beacon of heat. Yaoyorozu took this time to pass out gas masks and create some other sort of gun with a large, round barrel, almost resembling a flare gun.

When the flames cleared and the ice stopped flowing, they were in a crystalline cavern that was held up by the two pillars of a giant robot's legs.

Then, from the hole that Hans's fire had made, Bakugo dropped in.

"Get out of my way, you-"

Yaoyorozu shot… something at Bakugo's feet. Seeing the white mist coming out of the projectile, Hans immediately shoved his mask onto his face.

"Let's go." Yaoyorozu said, loading another black… object, no doubt also filled with tear gas, into the gun.

As Bakugo screamed in blind anger and started to fire off explosions randomly, the four began to run out from underneath the giant, frozen robot… into a clearing filled with even more robots.

Yaoyorozu, however, was not perturbed.

"Giant beast, plan 3!" she said, throwing what looked like large tasers and grappling hooks to Kirishima and Ojiro. Hans just looked at the three, thinking about when they came up with all of these plans.

"Oh, wait." Hans thought. "I wrote in several of the enemies that I had to fight as a servant. These things are probably nothing compared to those spriggan statue things."

As Ojiro and Kirishima swung around and shocked the giant robots into spasming wrecks, Yaoyorozu began to set up what looked like a ton (though not literally) of lightning rods around the place, all the while Bakugo angrily struggled through a cloud of tear gas.

"Get… this shit… off me!" Bakugo yelled, finally losing his patience and setting off a huge explosion. The ice and robot behind them started to quiver as Bakugo ran forwards, his eyes still totally shut.

"We gotta keep going, now." Hans said, tugging on Yaoyoruz's sleeve, only to realize that she had just pulled a tesla coil out of her abdomen and plugged it into a generator.

"This'll stall them for long enough." Yaoyorzu said, slightly tired and looking a little thinner around the cheeks. Then, she pulled off the remains of her ski boots and created brand new roller skates. "Shall we?"

Hans grinned and let the ice queen use her cryokinesis to move some of the ice into a stable barrier that completely covered the exit between the robot's legs.

"Now let's go." Hans said, grinning.

Hoisting himself up onto Yaoyorozu's shoulders, he idly enhanced Yaoyorozu's strength as she skated past the remains of still-spasming robots. Behind them, Bakugo's agonized scream was music to Hans's ears.

…

Many, many students were pouring into the hole with white gas rising out of it. Was that the easy way out? Maybe. Though, judging by the explosions inside, there was some sort of trap there that kept even Bakugo Katsuki, the arrogant bastard, from advancing.

But a certain purple-haired student would not take that path.

Two months ago, he was still unenlightened. He had dreams of being a hero, sure, but he never exactly acted on it.

Now?

He stepped out of the crowd an adonis. A mass of rippling muscle, born of working out almost nonstop these past two months.

Eventually, his Mt. Lady and Midnight figurines lost their appeals. What curves could they possibly offer that were more beautiful than his biceps? What pleasure could they give compared to the sensations of his muscles rippling?

It started as a plot for revenge. Against the elitist girl that had stolen his spot.

Now? It was a lifestyle.

But seeing the girl speed past everybody with the help of her three other friends… ignited something within him.

Mineta Minoru walked up to the icy walls that the collapsed robot made, and flexed his disproportionately muscular body, before beginning to climb up the wall with his sticky balls.

Today, he would prove a point. That she didn't deserve her spot in the hero course.

Purple balls blotted out the sun as he ascended beyond the robots.

…

Midoriya stumbled before the pit, catching a whiff of something that made him cough and his eyes water.

"Is that… tear gas?" He thought, immediately covering his nose.

Past the cloud of gas still emanating from a bomb-like thing that no student wanted to approach, Bakugo and Todoroki stood before a field of rippling electricity emanating from what looked to be a tesla coil.

The two, however, couldn't actually see the tesla coil.

"Fuck this!" Bakugo yelled, running forwards. "Half and half bastard, freeze whatever's doing that!"

"I can't." Todoroki said stoically, with his eyes shut and induced tears streaking down his cheeks. "If you don't want me to freeze us both in here, then I shouldn't use my quirk."

Midoriya looked at his classmates struggling with the tesla coil emanating pulses of electricity, and knew what he had to do.

Taking a nearby broken slab of ice, he ran forward… and threw it at the coil. The shard of ice was zapped once or twice and melted slightly, but it skidded on the floor and knocked the device over. Instantly, the device began to destabilize and heat up, exploding into a splatter of battery acid and metal shards.

This was obviously Yaoyorozu's work. Looking at the race track in front of him, he saw the defeated bodies of spazming robots.

No, it wasn't just Yaoyorozu's work. Hans. Kirishima. Ojiro. They had all worked hard to achieve their place in the race.

And now? It was Midoriya's turn.

He would tell the world… that he was here!

Then, his legs got stuck in a purple blob, and unable to continue running, Midoriya lost his balance and collapsed, his face kissing the icy ground.

"I'm sorry, 1-A student." a buff but short purple haired student said, leisurely jogging past Midoriya. "But you're just too slow."

After slinging a few more of the sticky, purple balls off his head, the diminutive student continued to run forward.

Midoriya gritted his teeth, before ripping the fabric below his knees off and continuing in pursuit.

Obviously, the world wouldn't just roll over and let him proclaim his existence.

…

"I'm… just a bit exhausted." Yaoyorozu said, her slightly weak tone of voice indicating that she had used her quirk quite a bit. "But I think that I can still-"

"Nonsense!" Kirishima said. "You did your part in the last obstacle, so let us do our part this time."

"I'm the tactician here, supposedly." Hans said, crossing his arms. "Now, Kirishima, Harden your arms and legs into rigid postures. Then, we'll all hitch a ride as we zipline across.

"But can he really support all of our-" Ojiro began.

"He'll be hardened." Hans said. "It'll be fine. Now, are we going to keep arguing or what? Because somebody's coming up from behind us!"

In the distance, a short, purple haired boy approached.

"Yaoyorozu…" the boy's low voice shouted.

"...Yeah, let's move." Yaoyorozu said. Taking a grappling hook from Ojiro, they got into their assembled positions. Kirishima grunted a little as Hans hung on for dear life by throwing both his arms around Kirishima's neck, but with Ojiro's tail as additional support, they were totally in a stable position. Yaoyorozu fired the grappling hook, and the four soared across the first zipline.

"And with incredible teamwork and leftover gadgets, the group of four makes it across the first zipline! But Mineta Minoru from 1-C is approaching fast, folks! This is an unprecedented performance from the general education department!"

The process was repeated. Hans quickly healed Kirishima a little as the metal wires wore down on his skin a little, but there was no major difficulty ahead of them. Behind them, however, the diminutive purple haired student that had been growling Yaoyorozu's name menacingly was using the rope's tension to sling himself across.

As Yaoyorozu's body eventually adjust to the rapid lipid depletion and she became slightly less pale (though just barely visibly thinner across the body), they clambered off of Kirishima's body and ran up to the third obstacle, Ojiro carrying both Hans and Kirishima trying to de-stiffen from the many minutes of hardening he had to endure.

"There are mines ahead!" Yaoyorozu shouted, quickly braking with her new pair of roller skates.

"Whatever. They're probably not all that dangerous." Hans said, shrugging as Present Mic gave out some more vague tips about the minefields and their non-lethality. "And these are probably all pressure-activated, right?"

"They're mines." Yaoyorozu said. "I'd assume so. If you have a plan, you'd better make one fast."

"Why am I even thinking?" Hans said. "Elder Tree Mother, just dig up all the mines."

"Really?" the tree said, appearing from behind Hans's back. "No exciting schemes? No letting Kirishima run across?"

"Sometimes, the simplest solution is the best one." Hans said, resolutely nodding. "Now get to it!"

With a summoned creature acting as their minesweeper, the four leisurely walked through the minefield, though not before piling all of the mines delicately into a roadblock before the doorways, which weren't even protected against sabotage.

"This will be easier than I thought, huh?" Hans said. "Why was this thing such a big deal in the first place?"

"Did you really think that this was the last obstacle?" Present Mic shouted through the PA system. "You're at the three kilometer mark, but wait no further… for the hell tunnel! Created by UA's finest engineers, as a coup de grace for the naive first years!"

Before the three, lay an abomination of an obstacle. Hammers swung in random patterns, and for anybody else, they would be swinging at chest height. For Hans? It was right at his face. Then? There was a rope bridge course, with mechanical claw arms reaching upwards, gnashing at anything that moved.

Gears grinded and warm steam leaked out of pipes that were obviously meant to simulate a dangerous industrial work area. Much sturdier and smaller robots skittered across the hallways, their mechanical arms clicking menacingly.

And, at the end of the tunnel, past the smoke, the heat, the haze, the robots, and the abyss, Hans could see that there was something that he, alone, could never hope to pass.

An agility exercise. Heavy, padded dodgeballs were constantly ejected down what looked like a gigantic pinball machine that had a ramp about a hundred meters long.

Faced with such overwhelming odds, Hans said the only thing he could possibly say.

"Okay."

…

Huddled in the coffee break room, two blue-haired people with hand related quirks crowded over one mobile device with a slightly cracked screen.

"Hvad fanden er det…? Og hvorfor går Hans ind i det?" "What… the hell is that? And why is Hans going into that?"

"Gå ik der ind, Hans!" "No, kid, don't go in there!" Hans's mother shouted… just as Hans walked into the room with randomly swinging hammers.

"Anne…" Hans's father said, "Tror du at det var en god idé at lade Hans blive ved med at gå i den skole? Måske var det bedre at lade ham blive en advokat." "Do you think we made the right choice to let Hans keep studying at that school? Maybe the legal case would have been safer."

"Vi skal bare tro på ham…" "We… we just have to believe in him." Anne muttered.

The two watched with bated breath as the cameras focused on the four braving their way through the hall of hammers. A teen with a tail was doing especially well, able to defend against three hammers at once. Another slightly rocky teen was just taking the hammer blows, his durability allowing him to slowly trudge through. Hans summoned a gigantic hand and began to slap the mechanical devices out of the way, as they followed behind the tail boy.

"...It doesn't look like we actually have to worry." his father said, going back to Japanese to not confuse those watching with them. "It looks like some other people are already doing that for him."

…

Having crawled past the obstacle with hanging wires, Midoriya stood before the blocked entrance only slightly behind the two still competing for first place. The two strongest in their class, Bakugo and Todoroki, stood with an unlikely third: the purple-haired boy from 1-C that had immobilized Midoriya temporarily.

"Well?" Bakugo snarled. "Are we just going to stand here, or are we going to get through this thing? We can't even go around this gate, or we'll be going outside the race course."

"If we use one of us to set off the mines intentionally, we'll be sent behind while the others can keep going." Todoroki analyzed. "And if I act, then everybody will have to work to clear the ice. It still won't benefit me."

"And we'll just let those four cheating nobodies take first through fourth place?" Bakugo said. "Fuck that!"

Bakugo said that, but he didn't actually do anything. Performing an action meant losing in this case.

"...I have an idea." Midoriya said. "What if we just wait for Uraraka-san to get here? She can float the mines out of the way."

"That'll take too long." Todoroki said while Bakugo refused to respond. "By then, they'll have finished the race."

That was true. The time that it took for others to get past the second obstacle would mean more time for the four in front of them.

Yaoyorozu-san, Kirishima-san, Ojiro-san, Andersen-san… was this part of your plan too? Midoriya thought.

He wasn't even going to bank on the fact that there would be healing in between rounds, either. With how unpredictable this event was and how tough UA was on their students, there might not even be a break.

"But if nobody wants to act… And we all just want to win selfishly…" Midoriya shouted, suddenly running forward, "How can any of us call ourselves heroes?"

"Incredible!" Present Mic shouted. "It looks like class 1-A's Midoriya Izuku has decided to act in the face of the seemingly insurmountable obstacle! Is he going to sacrifice himself to keep the race going?"

The explosion sent him skidding backwards. His arm was scraped. His clothing tore itself to shreds amidst the pink explosions, exposing his healthily athletic physique.

Standing up shakily and looking past the fog, he realized that the way was clear. So, ignoring the pain and the fact that Bakugo, Todoroki, and the 1-C boy had all ran past him, he dashed forwards.

…

"They're here." Hans said, listening to Present Mic's announcement about Midoriya's actions. Truly, it was a moment worthy of a morally superior protagonist.

"Why does that matter?" Yaoyorozu said, lifting Hans over a sudden jet of burning steam, before throwing some plaster made via quirk onto the hole.

"Because now that we've made an example, others will be able to act and destroy the obstacle." Hans said slowly. "Which means-"

A torrent of cold made itself known throughout the whole obstacle. Through the mechanical jungle gym, Hans could feel even the steam jets slowly calming down.

"We have to go. Now." Hans said, switching over to hugging Ojiro's tail. "We can't match their quirks in sheer power, or defend against their quirks without being immobilized."

By "quirks", Hans meant Todoroki's quirk specifically.

The four began to pick up their pace. Hans made himself as insignificant as possible, while Ojiro bounded past the obstacles with sheer agility, not stopping to help the other two. Ice began to creep up and ensnare Yaoyorozu, who was the most behind out of all of them. She tossed the grappling hook she had been using to assist her jumps to Kirishima, before the ice completely swallowed her.

Kirishima got past another set of gears, and sprinted through many jets of steam before his ankles were ensnared by the ice.

At the end of the tunnel, only Ojiro and Hans were left standing.

As Ojiro frantically tried to sprint the last one kilometer, Bakugo burst out of the ice that had brute forced its way past all of the complicated mechanical obstacles, Todoroki right behind him.

"Finally…" Bakugo sneered. "I'll be taking first place… back from you all."

"Ojiro, put me down!" Hans shouted. "One of us has to win!"

"I'll hold them back!" Ojiro said, still sprinting forward. "Get off so you can win!"

"Ojiro." Hans said, "Do you honestly think I can run seven hundred meters?"

There was a brief moment of silence, where Ojiro's pace halted for just a bit. Then, his tail unraveled from Hans's body and he stopped just to let Hans go.

"I'll win…" Ojiro said, steel in his gaze, "For all of us!"

…

Ojiro turned back to see Hans's summons spring to life. He was slightly inferior to speed in completely open ground compared to the explosion-propelled Bakugo and Todoroki skating along his ice slicks, but with Hans's intervention, it had to be enough.

Tree roots sprang to life from the ground. Jets of water sprayed everywhere as a mermaid frantically tried to hose down Bakugo's sweaty figure. A gigantic tin soldier fell from nowhere to stop Todoroki's path.

These defenses were promptly shoved aside. With a combination of Bakugo's explosive power and Todoroki's glaciers, the summons were shoved out of the way. What defense the ice queen had managed to gather with her cryokinetic powers was not sufficient in the face of explosions, and what soft defense the tree roots could give were no match for the sheer mass of the ice.

Still, Hans had given his all. He had fallen back in order to ensure that at least one of them took the lead.

Ojiro ran. There were no dramatic speeches. There were no flashbacks. It was just him, five hundred meters, and Bakugo and Todoroki behind him.

"Get… back here… you fuck!" Bakugo roared. Todoroki stoically ran forwards, his ice slowly creeping up on Ojiro's ankles.

So, Hans had fallen to what looked like two of the main characters?

Ojiro remembered the flashing of the panels. How each adventure chronicled within the pages he couldn't recall always coincided with those four colors. Green, yellow, red, and white. They were like an endless kaleidoscope that Ojiro was spiraling down into, losing himself along the way.

"Not… Again!" Ojiro grunted, putting more power into his legs. He perfected his form. He used his tail not for jumping, but to simply put more weight forwards. Jumping wouldn't allow him to accelerate.

His lungs were burning. His vision was becoming blurry. Sweat dripped down from his eyebrows and into his eyes, making him blink furiously.

Yet, past all of these obstacles, he was ahead. The light at the end of the tunnel seemed so near now.

But he was so… normal. He couldn't stop them from gaining ground. And he had nothing compared to those two…

…Except his tail.

He was in the tunnel now, just five meters ahead of the other two. He could already feel the heat of a consistent crackling explosion and the cold of the road freezing ahead of him.

It was fine. He had his tail, or a third arm, as his teacher, the legendary Li Shuwen, said.

And more importantly? Preparation and planning.

"Damn…" he roared, his tail lashing out at Bakugo. Widening his eyes, Bakugo brought a hand forwards to defend, forcing him to go off course and crash into the wall.

"You…" Ojiro swept his tail to the other side, causing a major gust to form. At long ranges, he couldn't do much. But at the slim margin of five meters, the prestigious gale was able to disrupt Todoroki's pathing on his icy trail. Forced to freeze his foot to not be knocked into a wall, Todoroki's momentum was also stopped.

"Horikoshi!" Ojiro screamed, sprinting the last twenty meters while cursing a name that he hated for seemingly no reason at all.

The warm sun graced his skin as he sprinted past the last gate. Sprawling out onto the grass, he wiped away the sweat from his brow and looked forwards at the line they had started at just nineteen minutes ago.

Somehow, he had made it. He had broken free of the kaleidoscopic swirl of green, yellow, red, and white.

He was first. And nobody, not even the main characters, could take that away from him.

AN

You didn't expect that, did you? Ojiro winning the race? Him getting a moment to shine?

If only the side characters in canon got moments to shine, instead of standing there and reacting to fights.

And it wasn't like there were a lot of rules during the race. Anything could happen as long as you didn't exit the course. The gates to each obstacle were like small boundaries, so that's why people didn't go around it.

Mineta used a ton of steroids, so he's probably not that healthy even if he's buff. For the inevitable nitpickers that start comparing musculature.

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Here we go again.

…

As Midoriya sailed off the arena, so did Ojiro's emotions soar through the top of his mental ceiling, floating into the blue sky and never to return.

Hans had done it… right?

But as the crowd cheered the exciting and flashy battle, Ojiro realized that nothing had changed.

Midoriya was clearly still not in control of his powers. Hans could beat him this time. Ojiro probably could too, but what if he got better? What about next time? Was there really no stopping him?

What if… Midoriya was meant to lose because of the narrative?

As Ojiro pondered the fact, he looked sideways to see Yaoyorozu and Kirishima celebrating, then turned further to look up at the highest left corner where Todoroki was sitting in the box, a pensive look in his eyes as he clenched his fist.

That look… was the look of somebody who misplaced their challenge.

As Bakugo seethed loudly at not getting his fight with 'That fucking Deku!', looking at Midoriya struggling on the ground with a broken leg, Ojiro looked pensively at the next matchups.

Yaoyorozu was facing Tokoyami. Kirishima was going to battle it out with Sato, and Ojiro… was fighting Shoji.

Ojiro looked back at Shoji, who looked back at him with one of his many eyes. Ojiro noticed that Shoji's mask was a bit distorted, but his eyes looked light and relaxed.

Shaking the thoughts of an unstoppable narrative out of his mind, Ojiro looked back and smiled as well.

Now that matchup… would be fun.

If only they weren't the last match of the first round.

…

"Match four… start!" Present Mic shouted.

As Tokoyami bent backwards and thrust out his abdomen, unleashing the demon that was Dark Shadow, Yaoyorozu swiftly whipped out a pair of sunglasses and threw three flashbangs. The bright flashes of light made the audience close their eyes or try to blink rapidly to try and clear their vision.

However, there wasn't really a match to watch. Amidst Tokoyami's blind confusion and Dark Shadow's wailing, Yaoyorozu made a long and sturdy whip, whipped it around Tokoyami's leg, and yanked him off balance. As Tokoyami fell to the ground, and with Dark Shadow slowly regaining strength, Yaoyorozu quickly created a steel bar from her leg to end the fight. The stick, continuously rising out of her calf, was able to quickly push Tokoyami out of the ring.

"...Seriously, what are these kids doing?" Present Mic muttered. "I don't remember any takedowns that fast in my years. Yaoyorozu is the winner!"

…

"I know it's not very manly that you won't be able to use your quirk, Sato, so I won't use mine either."

"Really, Kirishima-san?" Sato said, a bit of what looked like tears in his eyes.

"Yup." Kirishima said, settling into a stance comfortably. "Come at me."

As Midnight swooned, Sato ran at Kirishima, fists raised high and ready to punch Kirishima's unhardened lights out.

After ducking Sato's punch, Kirishima swiftly used a low kick to knock him off balance, before stepping out of the way of Sato's falling body. To his credit, Sato was able to regain balance quickly with flexibility uncharacteristic of somebody his size.

Of course, as Sato brought his arms up to guard again, Kirishima stomped on the concrete floor and prepared to punch Sato right in the sternum. As Sato brought his arms down to attack, one swift flick from Kirishima's left arm was able to redirect the block, and Kirishima's right fist soared forwards straight into Sato's sternum in one quick jab.

Sato almost folded in half around the punch, his breath forcefully erupting from his lungs. Kirishima brought his fist back into a guard to see if Sato's pain was just a facade.

One second passed. Kirishima's gaze hardened, and he adjusted his footwork slowly, aiming to go for a kick at Sato's shins.

Two seconds passed. Kirishima looked at Sato's eyes slowly unfocusing.

At the three second mark, Sato slowly fell sideways. As Midnight looked at Sato's anguished expression, Kirishima felt the urge to speak.

"It was… a good fight." He muttered. "But consider learning some technique. You can't brute-force everything."

…

"You ready for our match, Shoji?" Ojiro said, almost about to head down the stairs. The match between Sero and Todoroki was only just beginning, but contestants had to go and prepare a round before the last match started, just so that UA could keep the pacing of the event tight.

One of Shoji's arms morphed into a mouth, but just as the impractical organ prepared itself to speak… a shadow was cast over the arena.

The two turned to see a gigantic iceberg rise out from the arena, with Sero entombed right in the middle.

Ojiro's heart went cold. And it had nothing to do with the iceberg.

Because how the hell was Hans going to win against that?

Leaning up against the railing, with his chin resting on the metal bar, Hans looked at the display… and sighed.

"Despite all of this ice, Sero is just in… a tiny bit of it. Honestly, what a waste of power."

"Doesn't that… scare you a bit, Hans?" Kirishima asked.

"Yes. Yes it does." Hans said. "Think about all the property damage that this quirk could cause if its user was just a bit unhappy that day."

Hans ran his hands over his arms, where he could feel the various curses of his summons affect him. Idly scratching a patch of scales while avoiding some burns out of habit, he wondered.

Would matches melt a glacier?

…

After about fifteen to twenty minutes, during which popsicle sales were made completely obsolete, Ojiro and Shoji finally walked onto the stage.

"I didn't actually expect to do something like this so soon." Ojiro said, getting into a combat stance. Every muscle in his tail flexed as it whipped from side to side, eventually settling into a state where his center of mass was firmly between his feet.

Shoji, on the other hand, clenched and released his six hands, his giant, fanlike arms writhing ominously.

"It's the match of many limbs!" Present Mic declared cornily. "In this match, we'll see battles between a tail and many, many arms. It's Ojiro versus Shoji!"

"Could they really not have come up with anything other than whatever that announcement was?" Ojiro muttered.

"...Let's just fight." Shoji said stoically.

As Midnight started the last match of the first round, Ojiro did not choose to immediately attack. Shoji's quirk was formidable for a close range fighter such as Ojiro, with his many hands able to grapple and restrain his limited number of limbs.

Shoji slowly approached Ojiro, his left fan of arms held in a defensive shield while his right flexed menacingly, rippling with unknown strength… considering the fact that there were an unknown amount of limbs in that blob.

Thus, the only way to beat Shoji was to wait… and see whether or not he'll drop his guard just a bit.

Shoji, realizing that Ojiro had superior balance, began to circle Ojiro warily. Ojiro responded in kind, and they spiraled in the middle of the arena for a solid ten seconds.

Then? Shoji leapt forwards, his many limbs spread forwards, with two protecting his face. Clearly, he realized that the only way to win a balance contest with Ojiro was to eliminate balance from the fight.

It was going to be a grappling match.

Ojiro remembered the move that he had used to defeat him during the battle training and was just about to do another tail spin that simultaneously attacked all of Shoji's frontal limbs. But then, he saw two of Shoji's arms trailing low, almost as if bracing on the ground just to prevent his tail spin.

He had to retreat.

Slamming his tail on the ground, Ojiro was able to leap high into the sky, before landing with a tumble and a roll to lessen the impact. Quickly, he regained his stance and faced Shoji once more.

This… would be harder than he had expected. It was easy to unbalance Shoji back in the cavalry battle, given the fact that he was carrying somebody and that Shoji was running at him on unstable terrain, but that was then.

Now? Shoji's quirk had a definite advantage over his. Shoji could keep regenerating his limbs. Ojiro couldn't. Shoji had more limbs. Ojiro had a tail, which couldn't even be exactly used in conjunction with his arms.

The only thing that was separating the two was Ojiro's skill. Yet, how could Ojiro turn this into a contest of skill if Shoji kept trying to grapple him with his superior strength?

He did have one definite advantage, though. Speed.

As Shoji trudged towards him methodically, Ojiro sprinted towards Shoji's flank.

"And in a stunning reversal of pace, Ojiro has gone from the defensive to the offensive!" Present Mic shouted. "How will this turn of events affect the match?"

Ignoring the commentary, Ojiro began his elaborate feint. Angling his tail to the left and miming a spin, Shoji tilted his torso to face the right, both fans of his arms in a protective position, with arms bubbling inside the tissue to potentially surge outwards and grab Ojiro's tail.

But instead, Ojiro used his tail to jump to the left using his tail's immense strength. The reversal of direction sort of disrupted Ojiro's momentum, but at that moment, Shoji was off balance, leaning to the right, and was preparing for an impact that came from the right.

It was an opportune moment. As Ojiro swung his tail, however, two arms sprouted from Shoji's shoulders and raced to intercept the tail's attack.

The tail was grabbed, but that was okay. Ojiro still had his legs. Using Shoji's grip on him, Ojiro spun in midair with his tail as his center of mass and roundhouse kicked Shoji's face. One arm shot out from Shoji's collection, but the still-growing appendage only deflected the blow a tiny bit.

Ojiro's foot impacted the top of Shoji's head.

As Shoji toppled forward, however, he did not let go of Ojiro's tail. Thus, Ojiro was also swung forwards, onto Shoji's back.

It was not a great situation, considering the fact that Shoji could turn the situation into one that involved grappling at almost any moment.

However, Ojiro still had two of his limbs left. His arms.

An elbow descended onto Shoji's temple, ending the match with a satisfying thwack.

…

"We've made it." Hans said, looking at the match highlights playing back on the jumbo screen. His own knockout of Midoriya. Todoroki's gigantic glacier. Bakugo's casual destruction of a 1-B student with a glue quirk. Yaoyorozu's swift knockout of Tokoyami. And, oddly enough, Aoyama walking out of the arena after a brief conversation with a general education student.

"Indeed." Yaoyorozu said. "And you'll be facing Mineta Minoru next, Hans. Though a student from general education, I think that his biggest threats are his restraining quirk and his impressive physique."

"Yep." Hans said, shrugging. "Hopefully, this time, some of my psychological tactics will work instead of giving my opponents a buff."

"What did you say to Midoriya?" Ojiro asked.

"Oh, nothing." Hans said casually. "I just insulted the reason why he wanted to be a hero, and then tried to give him some self doubt. He stopped listening halfway through, though. It's pretty wise not to listen to a monologue trying to piss you off, but as a monologuer, it hurts… just a bit."

"Wasn't this… Mineta Minoru… thirty sixth place in the entrance exam?" Kirishima said, thinking back to the time he had browsed the UA website for information on who his future hero course classmates were. "He was going to make it in, but there was a fifth recommended student that year."

"So… I replaced him?" Hans said, a smile slowly widening on his face.

"All recommended students are assessed fairly." Yaoyoruz said, crossing her arms and glaring at Hans. "Though you performed poorly on the test, the other utilities that your quirk offers are more than enough to offset your poor mobility."

"But that wind guy didn't come to UA." Hans said. "Where did he go? And if my utility was that useful, why couldn't I just have taken his spot? He was first in most of the exams, after all."

Yaoyorozu paused at this.

"Come to think of it, that is strange."

"So, there's obviously something I can say to this kid now." Hans said, his arms assuming a thinker's position as he held his chin with one hand, contemplating his second round of psychological tactics.

"...Do you really have to do this?" Yaoyorozu said. "It seems unnecessarily harsh."

"Why shouldn't I do this?" Hans said. "Roasting people isn't a quirk. Any villain could start insulting them into the dirt, and if they crack just because of some words, then what kind of hero are they?"

…

"For the first match of our second round, it's a battle between two midgets, though they seem to have the opposite type of physique!"

The crowd laughed as Hans and Mineta looked at each other from across the field. For a moment, Hans thought about just fighting normally. Without trickery. Without being a hypocritical wannabe antagonist and insulting his enemy to rile them up.

"You…" Mineta muttered. "You've said some unheroic things on the internet, right?"

"Nevermind, then." Hans thought. "They're the one that wanted a war."

"Well, I didn't say it on the internet." Hans said. "Somebody posted what I said on the internet."

"Well, I'm going to beat you to prove that I deserve a spot in the hero course, not people like you!" Mineta shouted. "Not fucking elitists like Yaoyorozu!"

"You think Yaoyorozu took your spot, thirty sixth?" Hans said, grinning. "But it was me, Hans Christian Andersen!" He pointed at himself with his thumb, a large shit-eating grin on his face.

"I was the afterthought, accepted only because of my quirk's healing abilities. Why else were there five recommended students?"

"Y…you?" Mineta stuttered, taking a dramatic step back, his shaded face breaking character. Instead of the carefully manufactured cool and collected look that Mineta had been donning all this time, it was replaced with the impulsive fury of barely pubescent teenagers.

"Yes. Me." Hans said, still grinning. Midnight looked between the two, very concerned.

"Midnight, are you comparing the heights of our contestants or something?" Present Mic said through the announcer's system.

"S-start!" she said, reminded of her duties. She looked at a furious student and a very, very smug one, before sighing.

Hopefully, this wouldn't end in a catastrophe.

"Raagh!" Mineta yelled, ripping balls off his head and pitching them at Hans. With a sweep of his arm and one snap of his fingers, Hans summoned the tin soldier in front of him. The shield-like summon stood its ground, the balls sticking to the metal and quivering after impact.

"Now, now. Calm down." Hans said. "Did you really think that everybody can be a hero?"

"No." Mineta said coldly. "Not people like you." He pointed at Hans in an overdramatic fashion. "I got in fair and square. I got thirty sixth place in the entrance exam. But you, you… stole my spot."

"And here you are, thinking that being a hero is a privilege." Hans said, his arm outstretched and his face smirking. "We work seven days a week for more than eight hours a day. We put our lives on the line, and most heroes don't make it past fifty five. Is becoming a hero something your impulsive teenage brain can really make a decision on?"

"What about you, then?" Mineta shouted, aiming for the tin soldier's feet with his balls. Slowly, his strength was increasing. The vibrations reverberating throughout the tin soldier were slowly growing stronger in strength. "Why the fuck are you even here?"

Hans knew what this meant. Mineta was only just warming up. However, he had to continue and speak. He had to tire out his opponent to win in one strike.

"Didn't you see on the website?" Hans said, slowly sending the Elder Tree Mother into the ground as Mineta continued to gunk up the tin soldier with more of his sticky balls. "I used my quirk to heal an injured hero. And I was arrested for illegal quirk usage. For my healing quirk, they've specifically stuffed me into this school and threatened me with time in a detention center if I quit."

"Being a hero is an honor!" Mineta shouted, throwing his fist in the air. "You can meet cute girls that way! You can become popular that way! You can become famous that way! You're complaining because you were handed a seat in the best hero school in the country and working towards the dreams of millions of others?"

"Yes." Hans said, "Because this whole profession is a fame-obsessed sham populated by narcissists, culturally brainwashed children, outcasts desperately trying to prove their own self worth… and you. A combination of all three, right?"

Mineta fell silent, shadows obscuring his overly-muscled face.

"You don't know anything." Mineta said quietly.

"You're short, and you probably used to be unathletic." Hans said, narrowing his eyes and looking at Mineta. "You were probably unpopular back in middle school. You think that heroes are cool, and that doing so would increase your popularity, right?"

"Well, am I wrong?" Mineta said, gritting his teeth.

"No, you're not." Hans said, himself pointing overdramatically at Mineta. There was some sort of flu going around spreading unnecessarily dramatic poses, probably.

"But I'm not wrong either, right? You're obsessed with popularity. This whole society is obsessed with being popular and accepted socially. Before you got rejected from hero school, you were probably just an unathletic idiot coasting along with your slightly more convenient quirk."

"Now I have these!" Mineta said, snapping his head back to glare at Hans and raising his arms and flexing his impressive musculature like a bird trying to flaunt its feathers. "I've worked hard for these muscles!"

"And because of that, you feel entitled to be a hero?" Hans said.

"I should have made it in." Mineta shouted, resuming his attacks. "I should have your spot. I should be in 1-A!"

"Well, you self-obsessed steroid goblin, it's a bit too late to start complaining now, isn't it?"

Suddenly, Hans felt the tin soldier stop moving to block an attack. One purple ball narrowly sailed past his cheek and hit the grass outside of the arena.

"And what will you do now?" Mineta laughed, slightly deranged. A bit of blood was rolling down his scalp and over his face. "You don't have your shield anymore, do you?"

Hans snapped his fingers again. The tin soldier disappeared. The purple balls that once were stuck to the tin soldier's one leg fell to the ground.

Then, the summon reappeared, totally unblemished. Being in the caster class was convenient like that.

"D…damn you!" Mineta shouted, his eyes wide and bloodshot. He sprinted towards Hans, purple balls tearing off his hair and-

The Elder Tree Mother snaked a branch around his ankles and lifted him into the air. Then, swinging him around once, twice, and thrice… threw Mineta out of the arena.

Hans sighed, looking away, slightly tired, and walking away. It was over.

Was all this roasting and all of this hypocrisy on his part worth it?

He looked up at the 1-A boxes, to the impassive face of Todoroki and the arrogant one of Bakugo.

To roast them? It definitely was.

…

This chapter was less intense, and for an obvious reason. I had to finish off round one's fights, so I just rounded it up with a bit of a roast session towards Mineta.

Hopefully it was still entertaining, but I do know that this is slightly less intense. There will be more fun next time.

Todoroki is next.

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

Im irresponsible and forgor to crosspost. ehe~ (does the fist-bumps-forehead thing)

-SpiritOfErebus

The second round was… rather unremarkable considering its first fight.

After all, it was just two midgets fighting, with one throwing a ton of purple balls at his opponent, while the other just hid behind a statue.

Nobody could actually hear what the midgets were screaming at each other, but Cementoss and Midnight looked distinctly uncomfortable about whatever conversation happened.

Mineta slowly staggered out of the arena, muscles rippling shamefully, while Hans walked out normally, still slightly slouched and making his diminutive height even shorter.

As three of the 1-A students celebrated, the others looked at the match… and shrugged.

It was just general education.

(Aoyama looked almost constipated, having lost to a kid named Shinso Hitoshi the last round.)

…

Todoroki slowly punched an immobile Iida, who slowly tipped out of the arena, his engine exhausts frozen and both his legs frozen together.

Slowly, he exhaled a cloud of frosty mist.

Next was Hans Christian Andersen.

…

Yaoyorozu looked coldly through a welder's mask, her small flamethrower held aloft. Before her, a vine-haired girl knelt, her hair shortened by its charred ends.

Sometimes, elemental advantages were just that easy to gain. Throwing some moisture absorbents such as Calcium Chloride at the hair then torching it was the most efficient and fast way to defeat a foe..

…

Kirishima grinned at the opponent across from him.

"Next, it's a matchup between redundant quirks! Manly and passionate steel! Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu! Versus! Also manly and passionate hardening! Kirishima Eijiro!"

"Even our introductions are the same?" Tetsutetsu said, gritting his teeth. Kirishima merely exhaled and extended his arms out into a fighting stance.

Even if their quirks were similar, their skill wasn't on the same level.

As Tetsutetsu hardened his whole body into steel and roared, surging forwards with a telegraphed punch, Kirishima did not respond in kind. With two soft, unhardened hands, he grabbed the blow and softened the impact on his hands by following Tetsutetsu's swing force, bleeding out the momentum.

When another punch came, Kirishima chose to dodge it, before using the momentum of his own dodge to pull Tetsutetsu towards him.

As Tetsutetsu shouted in surprise, Kirishima lifted up his leg… and kicked Tetsutetsu in the shin.

"It's finally my time to say this." Kirishima muttered as Tetsutetsu collapsed to the ground, one leg bent at an awkward angle.

"Footwork!" he roared, hardening his elbow and going straight for Tetsutetsu's face. The steel-skinned boy raised his arm up to defend, but since Kirishima's elbow was now a hard, sharp object and was striking one that was held perpendicular to it, odds were definitely not in Tetsutetsu's favor.

After about thirty seconds of elbow strikes, Tetsutetsu cracked under the pressure.

Literally.

…

Bakugo lifted up his hands to the heavens, smiled dangerously, and destroyed the carefully constructed trap that Uraraka had made over the course of the match.

His arms shook. His knees felt weak. He felt a craving for his family's cooking.

But it didn't matter.

He was one step closer to number one. And for that? He hardened up his shoulders, forcing himself to stand straight.

As he roared at Uraraka, waiting for her to continue the attack, she slowly… collapsed.

"Heh." he muttered.

"Scrubs."

…

After Iida was used as an advertisement board during the first round (and said battle was never mentioned again by the announcers or any official source due to the fact that it exposed how easily hackable UA's systems were), Ojiro was… wary of the general education students that had made it to the second round. They could be trickier than he expected.

After all, his next opponent had made Aoyama surrender in a fight. Aoyama, the person that supposedly always sparkled and wanted to be in the spotlight.

What intimidating features would he face? What strange quirk would be brought to light?

As the sleep deprived, purple haired boy walked onto the stage, Ojiro raised an eyebrow.

Honestly, he didn't pay attention to Aoyama's very short match, but if this was the person that made Aoyama surrender, he really needed to work on his courage.

"And for our next round… It's Shinso Hitoshi! How did he get here anyways? Versus! Ojiro Mashirao! The first place winner in the obstacle course! How will this conflict unfold?"

"Ready?" Midnight said, looking at the purple haired boy with a bit of wariness.

"Are you ready to lose, you privileged piece of shit?" Shinso said, grinning arrogantly.

Ojiro said nothing, only tightening his fists and flexing his tail. If he wasn't wrong, looking at the student's nonexistent combat stance, he had no actual combat training.

"Start!"

Ojiro leapt forward, closing the distance in a second, his tail tying around Shinso's neck. As Shinso was lifted up into the air, Ojiro hit the ground, spun once, and threw him out of the arena.

What was so dangerous about this kid again?

While the crowd cheered, Ojiro raised an eyebrow. It was hard to meet somebody more… ordinary than he was.

But this guy? He definitely was. But was that insult an attempt to use psychological tactics, or just quirk-related?

At least he was probably trying his best.

Ojiro nodded at Shinso before retreating back into the stands. Still dazed, Shinso nodded at Ojiro's back.

…

The third round was here.

Standing in the hallway, Hans did not particularly enjoy the sensation of impending doom.

Todoroki… was just too much stronger than him.

In sheer scale of power? Todoroki was stronger.

In raw physical ability? Todoroki was much stronger and faster.

In terms of power diversity? Hans had an edge there, but Todoroki also had fire. A fire that he had never used, or simply… refused to use.

Hans did something he hadn't in a while since coming to a hero school. The people here were too formulaic, and thus did not actually require the usage of the skill.

However, Todoroki may very well be the first layered character he had actually seen.

Hans peered across the arena, and used Human Observation A. He was using his limited supply of mana, but it would be worth it.

Hans didn't have to retaliate in the battle at first, after all, considering Todoroki's track record with gigantic, immobilizing glaciers.

His eyes began to catch onto the several details that Todoroki's body language showed. A constant glare to where a fire was roaring in the stands. That was probably Endeavor. Cross referenced with Todoroki's rather stiff movements when he was just using his ice… and Hans arrived at a very simple conclusion.

Todoroki was a rebellious, probably traumatized child.

Why else would somebody intentionally give themselves minor frostbite, when they themselves were the walking cure to it?

…

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, what you've all been waiting for! Welcome to the first match of the quarterfinals!" Present Mic shouted.

"On one side, we have the icy cool Todoroki! Will he delay our match by twenty minutes again? Versus! Hans Christian Andersen! With a quirk so versatile that he's been able to get through two matches without a scratch!"

The crowd roared, though mostly for Todoroki. Hans could honestly see why, given the fact that the number two hero was on the stands next to you and was crackling intimidatingly.

And not to say that he deserved any cheers, but he really didn't anyways.

"Are! You! Ready!"

The crowd cheered a general yes, willing to go further upon the prospect of seeing teenagers beat each other up.

Hans shook his head from any gladiatorial thoughts, and took a deep breath.

Then, he exhaled.

It was comfortably warm. But… well… not for long.

As Midnight's flogger came down in slow motion and Cementoss winced, Todoroki unleashed it all.

A torrent of ice rose from his feet to the heavens, coating Hans's half of the arena. Hans was swept backwards, his body like a ragdoll in the midst of the icy construct crinkling and crackling its way towards the sky.

As Hans looked up into the pale, blue sky and the puffy clouds, feeling the chill soaking into him from every inch of his skin, he tried to sigh.

But he couldn't.

Because his chest was constricted by the ice.

Hans summoned the ice queen, who slowly began to move the ice around Hans. Present Mic said something praising Todoroki's power or something, but Hans was a bit too preoccupied to listen.

He had to start his own performance now.

"I've said this to Midoriya too, but I'll say it again to you."

"What." Todoroki said impassively, looking at the Ice Queen warily.

"Do you really think you're special?"

Slowly, the ice began to spin around Hans, forming yet another spiraling staircase that slowly elevated him. His shirt, having been completely soaked with ice, cracked and broke off his body with the sound of glass breaking. Realizing the problem, Hans summoned the little match girl and began to defrost his pants.

"Just because you won the genetic lottery doesn't mean that you're entitled to be a hero. But I guess that isn't your problem, is it?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow. "You've worked hard to become a hero. This power is a testament to your past efforts. But you two are polar opposites. One works hard, but doesn't want to be a hero, while the other didn't work hard and got so lucky that he's in the course anyways."

"I… do want to be a hero." Todoroki declared impassively.

"Then why don't you use your fire?" Hans said from on top of his ice creation.

With the ice queen as a base, she was slowly incorporating more and more ice into her body. A bubble of earthen roots slowly crept around Hans's body as the Elder Tree Mother began to work as well, creating what seemed like a skeleton for the ice structure.

"Why aren't you flaunting your quirk like every other impressionable teenager at this event?"

"I can win this event without his fire." Todoroki muttered, a grimace slowly etching itself into existence.

"And… now, we come back to the first issue." Hans said. "You aren't special just for having daddy issues, you know?"

"And you're just distracting me." Todoroki said with a slightly tight voice, stomping forwards again.

Another gigantic glacier erupted out from his feet, impacting Hans's creation. The ice that was already behind Hans acted like an anvil that Todoroki's new glacier would slam Hans against. The amalgamation of roots and ice braced together to stand firm against the tide.

We're at about forty percent mana here, summoner. The elder tree mother whispered. Moving this abomination doesn't take much effort, but maintaining its structural integrity is taxing.

"Fine…" Hans muttered. "I'll get this over with… fast."

Quickly, his hands flew across the screen of his tablet, constructing a one-sided lecture in the lens of his noble phantasm.

Hans wasn't like the other heroic spirits. He wasn't powerful. He wasn't strong. His entire repertoire consisted of party tricks and skills easily destroyed by any semi-competent mage.

Therefore, he had no reservations about using his noble phantasm in something as trivial as a lecture.

But this… would surely be worth it.

Though not saying it himself wouldn't be as satisfying, at least he would be able to get the words out past his icy tomb.

So, while the Ice Queen worked to incorporate more and more ice into the abomination, Hans threw the blue sheet of paper into the air, straight at Todoroki. The representation of his noble phantasm rippled in an imaginary wind, went straight through another one of Todoroki's increasingly slowing ice blasts, and slapped Todoroki in the forehead.

Then, everything went blue… for Todoroki.

…

It was cold.

Extremely cold.

Todoroki looked up at a cloud of white, across a sea of snow like white mud, and blinked.

When did this happen?

There were foreign faces all around him. Most of them, however, were purple and red. Mumbling in a language he didn't understand, they looked ruefully at an ember that had gone out.

Was Hans's quirk something that influenced his mind? Something that could cause people to hallucinate?

Todoroki brought up his own fingers to his face to try and pinch himself awake, but felt a soft crunch.

Those fingers fell off.

As he looked impassively at the stumps that remained of his index and middle finger, he looked up at the clouds again.

He didn't understand any of the voices, or where he was, or what time period he was even in, judging by the antiquated uniforms and armor that the people were wearing, but somehow, he understood one phrase.

As ice and snow poured from the sky, obscuring what little warmth the sun had shown, the meaning of one sentence popped into his head.

It's fucking snowing again.

Then, it went dark again.

"I really don't like writing these monologues." Hans said, sighing. "I'd honestly prefer it if I could say this in person, but because of all of the ice you made, nothing I say can really reach you."

Todoroki felt sick to the stomach for some reason.

"I'd guess that you're feeling kind of bad for some reason right now, and I'm going to say this: It's because I mentioned ice after showing you that scene. Are you not using your fire because you think that it's more dangerous for some reason? Well, the cold has killed more people than fire by a large, large margin."

"That's not why I'm not using my fire." Todoroki argued, the black void he was floating in still feeling cold.

"Of course, as I've already said, you don't use your fire because of your daddy issues." Hans said. "You're probably adverse to using fires because your dad was an asshole to you, right? Acting like Asian parents and expecting their children to do great things when they're five, right?"

Todoroki nodded, before shaking his head.

"Why am I agreeing with him? He's just trying to convince me to stop fighting and give up."

Hans, being a holographic recreation of himself, could not respond.

"And because of your daddy issues, you're doing some really stupid things. I mean, giving yourself frostbite, not using a literal half of your power… you know… Bad ideas all around."

"I don't need his fire." Todoroki roared, his body continuing to freeze. He knew the cold was fake. That it was just a production of Hans's quirk.

But why did it feel so… so… hopeless? So dark and dull?

"And now, of course, you're saying that you don't need his fire and probably have a really cold glare." Hans said, turning his holographic body and shrugging. "But consider this: Some people would literally kill for a fire."

Todoroki began falling.

Glaciers. Mountains of ice. Snow plains flashed across his eyes.

He felt the pain of explorers at the end of their rope, desperate for any source of heat.

He felt the ache of missing toes of French soldiers freezing in the desperate march to Moscow.

He felt the bite of pioneers freezing in Alaska, slowly being brought under by one misstep.

He looked on as a little girl wearing a bonnet desperately lit matches for warmth, the fire going out stick by stick as her life slowly peeled away from her body.

As the movements of the little girl grew more and more sluggish, as her eyes slowly drooped and her arms slowly turned pink and purple, a fire burnt through the scene.

Then, there was fire.

Villages burnt by volcanoes.

Animals fleeing as forests were reduced to ashes.

The bone-chilling screams of soldiers standing in front of other cold-faced, flamethrower-wielding soldiers.

A child, walking out of a massive city fire, his eyes hollow and empty.

"No element is innocent." Hans said. "There will always be a person that wants to be immune to fire, or immune to the cold, or, well, immune to both. And they would have killed for the ability, if not for the fact that, well, they're all already dead."

"Of course, privilege isn't exactly the problem here." Hans said. "You're a bit of a dumbass, but you're stupid because of deep rooted trauma, and not because of unrealistic heroic fantasies like Midoriya. He's probably been bullied and traumatized, but that isn't the whole reason for his stupidity."

"And why should I change?" Todoroki snarled. "Why should I?"

The holographic image of Hans did not respond.

"Deep down, you don't actually want to be a hero, right?" Hans reasoned. "Being a hero is just another expectation for you. Sure, once, you may have looked at All Might and dreamt of being a hero that saves everybody, but you've soured since. You've grown cold and distant, and it shows. Now, you look more like an edgy teenager than a hero wannabe."

Todoroki paused as a mirror appeared right in front of him. His split hair tone, his dead eyes, his sour expression, and the scar around his left eye really did sort of make him seem edgy.

"And so, is there really a reason for you to continue this farce?" Hans said, shrugging. "There are millions of people that die of thirst every year. Your quirk can provide a basically limitless supply of freshwater, if you only just used both your ice and your fire together. If you want to help people, there are… about five other ways that you can do it… I don't know… I'll have to do more research."

"But I can't just stop!" Todoroki mumbled to nobody. "I can't stop. Endeavor will just keep making me go forward."

"Of course, you'll have to continue." Hans's image of himself said, suddenly turning back and nodding to himself. "Endeavor probably forces you to continue being a hero. But really? He can't do anything when you're an adult. Just play along for three more years, don't get permanent health consequences by getting frostbite, and spit on his training by going to college abroad after you graduate. If that sounds like a plan, just say "I heard your message" after this ends."

Todoroki looked at the projection of Hans and thought. Many, many thoughts ran through his head.

He remembered watching All Might do an announcement when he was a child. He remembered his mother's warmth. The moment where she turned. The moment where she cracked.

And he winced.

If the hero industry really demanded all of that pressure to succeed, then why go along with it at all?

"Yeah…" Todoroki muttered. "Sounds good."

"No time will have passed in the real world, by the way." Hans said. "So, uh… do what you will with that information."

…

Todoroki opened his eyes.

Hans's creation was still fighting his way through the ice while Present Mic was shouting loudly.

Then… he smiled.

Just three more years.

"Hans!" he shouted, looking up to the creation that had just broken through his ice barrier with fists made out of hardened wood. "I got your message."

"Y-you did?" Hans shouted through a megaphone literally made of ice. "Okay, then. Give it your best shot, then."

Todoroki looked up at Endeavor up in the stands. He could imagine him muttering something like 'Use your fire' or 'Use your left, Shoto!'.

But, well, it didn't matter.

Because this. Here and now. Would be the biggest glacier that he would make. Ever.

"Goodbye, heroism…" Todoroki muttered, feeling the power well up from within him.

Hans, in response, began to dump matches onto a gigantic wooden palm, visibly sweating with effort despite the intense cold.

Todoroki felt his frost-wracked body struggle to supply the quirk power to make his biggest glacier yet. He felt his fingertips itch slightly, and felt his face stiffen further.

Would he use his fire?

Not now.

This would be the last of his silly teenage spite, as well.

"Goodbye, pain…" he muttered, slowly bringing his foot down.

When his foot hit the concrete, ice began to well up from all around him. His body released the pressure of an extreme temperature difference, causing a glacier to sprout from nothing. In front of his field of vision, nothing but blue remained. The crystalline structure looked… almost unreal.

And then? There was a gigantic plume of fire. Hans's matches had all ignited at once, melting the glacier both behind and in front of him.

The resulting decompression explosion shattered the glacier, sending Todoroki flying out of the ring.

"And hello…" Todoroki muttered, a soft smile on his face.

"Tomorrow."

…

This is a bit more wholesome, right? I hope it is :D

It's a nicer turn of events. I guess I scammed all of you out of an action scene. Next? Is the Bakugo thing.

EDIT: Japanese High School is three years for some reason, so... I changed the year count. And tweaked some dialogue to make more sense.

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

So… It's been a while. Not that long. But I'm on a road trip.

Small fate lore thing: Some skills… do not take mana! I knew this, considering Kojiro's skills and my previous fic, but apparently Hans's skills (maybe minus his innocent monster skill? I'm not sure) don't.

I mentioned that his skills took mana, especially human observation. Let's just chalk it up to "he needs to enhance his human body to keep up with the flow of information" and ignore it. But that IS a fate lore inaccuracy that my discord server pointed out.

Anyways, enjoy. There was too much content to write before the Bakugo fight, so I… uh… couldn't fit it in with my timetable.

I'll still grind it out, though.

-SpiritOfErebus

The explosion caused by Hans's matches were nowhere near big enough to jeopardize the whole arena. Instead, as Hans looked out from the cracked ice shell, coated in soot and fragments of twigs, his limbs shaking from the small shock that the expanded air had caused, he saw Todoroki out of the arena.

The gigantic glacier that he had created had caused such an excess of ice that even Todoroki himself had been pushed out of the arena. Hans was still within the arena, though very high up.

And thus, a half-frozen Midnight declared Hans the winner.

Hans looked down from his golem-like creation, contemplated his 10% of remaining mana, and closed his eyes, and thought…

How the fuck am I going to get down?

…

After Hans bit his lip and spent an additional two percent of his mana to let the Elder Tree Mother lower him to the ground, he was immediately ushered onto a stretcher, and just as Todoroki was freed from his own icy prison and delivered to Recovery Girl, Hans saw a greatly disappointed crowd and and a severely disappointed plume of flame.

Looking at Todoroki, who was being carried by robots right next to him, Hans adjusted his chilled skin into a more comfortable position and began to ask.

"Why… were you convinced?" Hans said. "I've never actually had somebody that accepted some of the points I make at first. I mean, just accepting the fact that you didn't want to be a hero as a potentially idealistic teenager in a hero school is kind of weird, you know?"

Todoroki's slightly dizzy face looked back at him. The blank, empty expression was honestly kind of unnerving. But then… Todoroki smiled.

"Nobody had ever tried to give me direction before." Todoroki said. "It was always 'do this' and 'do that', people saying I should be a hero because of my father… School counselors saying that I'd make a great hero… But nobody's ever talked about what I wanted."

"Isn't that… kind of fucked up?" Hans said. "I mean, it's oddly convenient for me that whatever I said managed to work, but this society literally tried to reduce your identity down to nothing but a generic hero template. Isn't that… kind of terrifying?"

"Honestly?" Todoorki said, "Yeah. It is."

For a moment, they rode the stretchers in relative silence, only punctuated by the constant squeaking of the wheel, the incessant chirping of the robots, and the-

"Why are these things so goddamn loud!" Hans shouted. "I can barely hear myself think!"

Todoroki smiled again.

…

They arrived at the infirmary mildly traumatized by the beeping.

"Were these stretchers meant for unconscious people?" Hans complained. "I swear, the robots were communicating with each other or something in morse code."

"As a matter of fact, they were." Recovery Girl said, looking down at Hans's sullen expression. Todoroki's mildly frosted over body was already defrosting, with his left side working to slowly jumpstart his own body without getting it sick via rapid temperature changes.

"It looks like you're already fine, then." Recovery Girl said. "Why didn't you use that part of your quirk during the match, young man?"

Todoroki smiled and said nothing.

"Yeah, Todoroki-san." Midoriya said, reaching out with a heavily bandaged arm and peeling back the curtains. "Doesn't it also injure your body when you use too much ice? Besides, if you had just restored your body temperature with fire, you could have… won? I'm sorry, Andersen-san, I didn't mean to demean you, but-"

"It's fine." Hans said, shrugging. "I knew that if Todoroki didn't hold back, he would have destroyed me."

"Sometimes." Todoroki said, "Winning isn't the goal."

"But what about your dreams?" Deku said, a bit tearfully. "All of us here are working really hard to be heroes. I'm sure that you're no exception."

"...Maybe some dreams are meant to die." Todoroki said, sighing.

Looking at the slightly dejected expression on Todoroki's face, Hans began to slowly reconsider. Was what he had said in the moment… really correct?

It didn't matter in the end anyways. Todoroki wasn't his responsibility.

"I mean, I told you about-" Todoroki said, before checking around for Recovery Girl. She was currently getting a hot beverage. "Quirk marriages, right, Midoriya? And everything that came with it?"

"...Yes?" Midoriya said.

"Wait, what?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow. "When was this a thing?"

"I think that if being a hero is just too much pressure, maybe I'm not fit for the career." Todoroki said. "Or, rather, I can be a hero, it just wouldn't be a good personal investment. That job would destroy me."

The three remained silent.

"Okay, well, I don't really want or need to know about the quirk marriage thing." Hans said, shrugging and sitting up on the stretcher. "But seriously, up your situational awareness, all right, Midoriya? He obviously talked to you and was looking for direction. Did you just give him another typical teenage challenge back?"

"...About that, Andersen-san."

"Yes?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow.

"For the speeches… and what I said… and what everybody thinks." Midoriya began tentatively. "What you said during our match… I hope that I seriously haven't been giving off that impression, that I'm doing all of this just to get social acceptance. My dream is to save people with a smile. To at least try to become the next symbol of peace."

"Just like All Might." Hans said.

"Yeah. Exactly." Midoriya said, looking up at the ceiling with a vaguely positive expression. Hans suspected he was high on painkillers, but it was highly unlikely given the fact that they were in a school environment. "Exactly like All Might."

"And how old is All Might?" Hans said, scratching his chin. "Fifty? Fourty five?"

"Forty nine." Midoriya said automatically.

"Now, how long do you expect somebody as old as that to stick around? I mean, All Might is approaching the average age of retirement for a hero." Hans said. "What happens after All Might? Will you take up his mantle? Do you really think that you can match up to him?"

"I… I'll try. And no matter how I get there, either for shallow reasons or out of my own sense of justice, I'll try to keep the torch aloft. But honestly, I'm not sure…"

Midoriya looked down at his hands.

"Am I doing all of this for the desire to be accepted?"

Hans paused. Midoriya was the protagonist after all, and if his resolve wavered… whatever narrative still remained would be distorted completely. And for Hans's own safety, he would have to ensure that Midoriya, at least, continued as he was… for the sake of the plot.

Oh, god. For the sake of the plot.

Todoroki also noticed his "imperceptible" change in emotion, but ignoring the failure of his normally stoic look, Hans decided that he had to do something to restore the protagonist to his former glory, ensuring that they wouldn't be completely destroyed by whatever final villain inevitably arose.

Hans got down from his stretcher and tested his legs. They could work, though they were very, very cold. Slowly, he ambled towards Midoriya's bed… and patted him on the shoulder gently.

"No matter what your problem is, or if it even exists, as long as you start to think about their possibility, you have my respect."

As Hans slowly staggered out of the room to head back to the stands, he walked slowly past Todoroki's bunk.

"You know… I think Midoriya is All Might's secret love child." Todoroki whispered extremely seriously.

Hans looked at Todoroki, who nodded solemnly… well, as solemnly as somebody steaming on a bed could.

Todoroki, despite his changes, was still a protagonist. One of the trio. What he said, though sounding comedic, might actually be a way for an author to use humor and disguise it as foreshadowing.

Then again, it was probably a gag.

Hans thought about it casually. If this was some kind of plot twist that the author was trying to pull, he was doing it badly, in a more cliche manner than literal fairy tales.

The strength quirk… him being the protagonist… All Might suddenly joining UA as a teacher, All Might's attention on Midoriya… And the fact Midoriya looked up to All Might did support this theory a lot.

"Do you know his mother's hair color?" Hans asked. "Because if it's blue… suddenly, a lot of things make sense."

Then, the door in front of him closed.

"Get back in bed, young man." Recovery Girl said sternly. "And drink this."

A cup of hot cocoa was shoved into his hands. The burning porcelain almost added another burn to his collection, if not for the fact that he was exaggerating.

Taking a sip, he felt the searing pain and numbing sweetness slowly tear down his throat.

"Come to think of it." Hans rasped, "You've never been this talkative before, Todoroki."

"I just… never saw the reason." Todoroki shrugged. "I mean, you all are very different compared to me. You rejoice in your powers. I… am burdened by them."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Hans sighed, shrugging his shoulder and looking up at the screen showing UA trying to melt the tangled mess of trees and ice.

"Can I ask you… about your burns?" Todoroki said delicately. "If it's something that's also related to-"

"Oh, no." Hans said. "This is just a side effect of my quirk."

"A… side effect?" Todoroki said. Midoriya opened his curtain to hear better.

Hans gave Midoriya a little side eye, but since he was the protagonist, Midoriya understanding his quirk better would probably aid in sudden bursts of inspiration to defeat an unreasonably powerful foe.

Thus, he explained.

"My quirk is very weird." Hans said, trying to explain as much of his quirk without magic being a factor as possible. "I have… contracts… with various fairy tales, and after accepting their power or something, I get cursed by an ironic twist in the way that they either die or get greatly inconvenienced. I don't know how it works exactly."

"That's cruel and oddly aware for a quirk." Midoriya said pensively.

"Who knows?" Hans said. "Maybe my quirk gave itself sentience. It certainly wouldn't be the weirdest thing a Quirk has done, hell it's not even the weirdest Quirk in our class."

As Hans slowly recanted the tale of his most commonly used summons (minus The Red Shoes), Recovery Girl smiled.

It was nice to see young people get along.

Meanwhile, Hans shot another glare at Midoriya as he lamented about the fact that there were no heroes around to save the little match girl.

He really wasn't getting the point of the fairytale.

Because how the fuck did somebody get "if only there was a hero" from a tale about poverty?

…

On the stands, the three cheered, before two of them realized that they had to fight each other in the same round.

"Kirishima-kun, are you confident against Monoma?" Yaoyorozu said, trying to ignore the uncomfortable topic of elimination.

"I mean, sure." Kirishima said, shrugging. "He's pretty difficult to deal with in a minute, but looking at all of his matches, he finishes them fast and goes on the attack really quickly, which means that his copy quirk definitely has a time limit."

"But then he'll have your quirk, and the exact capabilities that you have." Ojiro said, scratching his head. "Do you think you really can-"

"Nobody knows my quirk like I do." Kirishima said, clenching his fist. "And besides, the month we spent was not in vain."

"Heh. That month of doing pushups in front of a concrete pillar while the midget sat on top of you?"

"No." Kirishima declared. "It was a-"

Ojiro clapped him on the shoulder.

"Do you want to add even more work on him during the internships?" he hissed. "It's already going to be a hassle to write another month for us three."

"What the fuck are you all talking about? Are you getting training from that scrub?" Bakugo said, sneering.

"..." The trio remained silent.

"Half and half held back against him and lost." Bakugo smirked. "I guess that makes him an extra too, if he really was that much of a pushover."

"Your match is next, Bakugo. You best prepare." Yaoyorozu said coldly.

"Against… splitty girl?" Bakugo said, looking at the brackets. "Heh. They shuffled the brackets so you two losers are going to fight each other. I guess your little team is breaking up. Anyways, she's going to be even less of a challenge than round face."

Yaoyorozu looked at Ojiro. A decision had to be made between the two.

Who was going to advance and beat this guy up?

That would be decided in the match.

…

Setsuna Tokage was blasted out of the arena, her face an expression of agony.

Honestly, it didn't seem like the match would have ended any other way.

…

"On one side, we have Monoma Neito!" Present Mic announced. "With a strong showing in the past two rounds, we've seen him utilize his classmate's quirks to devastating effects."

The crowd cheered. Clearly, Monoma's diverse and flashy powers, combining long range with short range and strength with small tricks was quickly becoming a favorite.

"On the other, we have Kirishima Ejiro! After defeating somebody with a redundant quirk, can he prove his hardening to be superior to a whole class of quirks?"

The crowd clapped politely. They were definitely expecting the fight to go one way.

As they settled in their respective stances and Present Mic wrapped up his hype speeches, Kirishima took a deep breath, before beginning to analyze his opponent.

An opponent that basically had all the options.

Though he probably didn't have the splitting ability, commonly used quirks were big hands and vine hair. Testsutetsu was probably out of the infirmary after Kirishima left some surface level damage on his arm, so Monoma probably also had durability.

Along with some degree of telekinesis, size manipulation, and many other miscellaneous offensive or binding quirks, this was going to be a tough one.

He gritted his teeth. He wasn't the best at it, but he would have to focus on-

The flogger descended. Midnight announced the fight.

And vines flew across the air, arching from atop Monoma's previously blonde head. They surged across the battlefield like a pack of angry snakes, while Monoma approached from the center, big hands extending, his telekinetic control already amassing a lot of the debris that the destruction of the arena had produced.

Kirishima sidestepped some of the debris and hardened his hand, producing a relatively sharp edge. Then, he attempted to shear through the vines to test their durability.

They cut through. So he wasn't completely helpless against them. But the vines around the cut one reacted violently, shooting upwards at Kirishima's arms.

He knew that once he was grabbed, he was helpless. Thus, he ran backwards, out of the range of Monoma's hair.

However, Monoma himself was also approaching, big hands waving menacingly. A storm of rubble announced his arrival, and Kirishima hardened a thin shell around him to keep durability up and mobility high. The concrete stung, but only a bit.

He was all about endurance. Monoma? He was literally the opposite.

The problem was getting to the point where Monoma's endurance ended. The arena constraint was honestly a big one, considering the fact that a lot of Monoma's kit involved grappling.

Kirishima punched an approaching big hand on the wrist, causing Monoma to recoil in pain. Yet another failed grappling attempt.

So, what was Monoma's weakness, other than endurance?

It was obvious. The fact that he, like all the other hero course students, hadn't really been training professionally. Because when the hands moved, the vines stopped twitching. Which meant that Monoma could only perform simplistic acts when concentrating on something else, such as high-pressure fighting.

But getting close to Monoma was a risk factor as well, considering the vines. Thus, close combat was out. Kirishima could perpetually defend at mid-range, but that wouldn't do any good, considering the fact that it was only defending.

Thus, he just had to keep cycling between mid range and short range combat.

It wasn't easy, but easy wasn't what heroes did.

Spiraling out of the way of another volley of vines and using his hardened skin to deflect some barbs (because obviously vines could do that), between Kirishima's mental gymnastics and his literal gymnastics, only one minute had passed.

"What's wrong, Kirishima?" Monoma laughed. "Can't stand up to the supreme power of Class B? I'll have you know-"

Kirishima stepped into Monoma's guard. Monoma laughed maniacally, seeing that Kirishima had stepped into his trap. A planned action occurred, and both vines and fists moved in swift conjunction.

"I'll have you know that even though you think you're concentrating, talking distracts you." Kirishima said. "Why am I talking, then, you may ask?"

"Why?" Monoma said, the vines circling around the twin grips of his palm.

Kirishima didn't answer. Hardening his leg this time, he brought it upwards in a roundhouse towards the sky. Every tendon in his body was pushed to the limit, but the flexibility training had paid off.

He could now use one hand to touch the other behind his back, unlike most bodybuilders.

And with that basic unexpected flexibility, and most importantly, strength, he was able to shear past the vines with a sharpened edge on his shin. Before he kicked off the two hardened palms… and twisted his body out of the gap between the two gigantic hands's fingertips.

In a high jump towards the sky.

As Monoma growled in frustration, Kirishima fell out of the sky, out of the range of the hands and the vines intertwined together, a grotesque yet defined mass of power.

"I talk to draw out a response, and to distract you, Monoma." Kirishima said, bringing his two fists forward.

"Ready for round two?"

The vines rippled once more.

"Sixty." Kirishima thought.

…

One hundred twenty.

Kirishima rolled out of the wave of vines.

…

One hundred eighty.

Kirishima exhaled rapidly, before sucking in another breath and pushing off two gigantic fists before vines circled around his ankles. "Slow, even breaths, just like Master Li taught you."

…

Two hundred.

Abruptly, the vines disappeared. Monoma's hair went blonde once more, and his hands shrunk down.

"My time's up, I guess." Monoma said, sighing. He looked at his arms. Despite being enlarged, some small bruises and cuts carried over, though they were only surface level. "But don't think that I'm giving up now!"

"I wouldn't dream of it." Kirishima said, grinning. "Let's finish this."

Hardening his arms with Kirishima's hardening quirk, Monoma took a slightly clumsy judo stance and leaned backwards, clearly planning for Kirishima's superior strength.

"I haven't practiced in a while, but this is my best effort. 1-A bastard… you've won my respect." Monoma said.

"Your power is formidable." Kirishima said, nodding. "We are both constrained by the very venue of this event."

"But how did you survive the vines and the hands?" Monoma said, slightly incredulous. "With your slightly average and unflashy quirk, how did you break free so many times?"

"It's not that difficult." Kirishima said, stepping forwards with a flash. As Monoma adjusted his stance to face him, Kirishima stomped on the ground and fractured the concrete. As Kirishima punched forwards, Monoma reached out to catch the hand and tried to recreate a judo throw.

The punch was a feint. Instead, Kirishima's other hand came up and flicked both of Monoma's hands out of the way.

"Don't feel too bad about this." Kirishima said, punching forwards again, barely a few inches away from Monoma. Monoma felt a regular fist impact his sternum, before the hand abruptly hardened.

The sudden acceleration caused by the hardening caused Monoma to soar out of the ring, amidst a gust of wind and a swirl of force.

Kirishima had won.

…

Yaoyorozu and Ojiro stood opposite to each other. Ojiro's tail flicked anxiously, while Yaoyorozu clenched and unclenched her fist, almost as if she was fidgeting.

The very first move of the battle was important. Very important.

Thus, Yaoyorozu chose the simplest modern option that would allow her to attack with the most force at the longest distance.

As Midnight's flogger came down, two machine guns fell out of the length of her arm, with a string of bullets connected from the magazine to her arm, where more and more rubber bullets were being produced.

Ojiro, however, wasn't idle either. While Yaoyorozu was preparing her ranged options, he had slammed his tail against the concrete as the match began, bringing up a big chunk of concrete, before hiding behind it.

The rubber bullets slowly chafed away at Ojiro's shield as Yaoyorozu contemplated her next move, even while continuously using her rapidly dwindling lipids to create rubber bullets.

Caltrops were inefficient. They were sharp, dangerous projectiles that Ojiro could take care of via attacking the ground and using said impact to send them away.

Gasses were ineffective, considering the fact that Ojiro could use his tail to clear the air.

Melee weapons were ineffective, considering the fact that Ojiro was superior to her in hand-to-hand. Though their combat aptitude were similar, and Yaoyorozu could hold her own against Ojiro in a pure skill contest, Ojiro's tail made for an advantage that could not be bridged.

An elemental advantage could theoretically work, but Ojiro had his concrete shield. Making a tesla coil depended on tagging metal onto Ojiro, which wouldn't work. Fire could be blocked. Any other methods of making elements such as ice were inefficient, and she wasn't Todoroki, who could create glaciers instantly. Not taking into account the chance for accidental self harm when creating substances that could work like liquid nitrogen.

Therefore, she had to first eliminate his visual advantage. A smoke grenade popped out of her leg, rolling out of her pant leg and staying close to her foot, spewing thick black smoke. An infrared vision mask grew from her face. Looking across the field and ignoring the heat signatures of the judges and the crowd, Ojiro's general area was still seen clearly, despite him hiding behind the chunk of cement.

After all, he still radiated heat.

Yaoyorozu kept up her gunfire, continuing to try and suppress Ojiro from coming out from behind the rock. If he did, then he would be hit by her bullets. If he didn't, then the smoke would be able to overtake the arena.

Either scenario was a tactical advantage.

Of course, Ojiro chose to nullify both advantages by roaring and running towards the sound of gunfire with a gigantic rock.

As Yaoyorozu was forced to dodge, the speed at which Ojiro dashed and the size of the object that he was carrying cleaved through the smoke like a knife through butter. The smoke was instantly sent sideways, and the dodge that Ojiro forced Yaoyorozu through was sufficient to break her concentration. Her guns sputtered and eventually went out due to lack of information.

Looking at the two very overheated and simplistic multi-shot guns, Yaoyorozu sighed and threw them out of the ring. They would be useless from now on.

But that was okay. She still had a fighting chance.

She was still in the smoke. Sending yet another smoke grenade towards the center of the arena, she began to move around where Ojiro was, setting down audio lures such as inefficient perpetual motion machines with bells tied to their ends.

Thus, she was still at a sensory advantage. And there was only so many times somebody could run through smoke with a rock, since Yaoyorozu's threat of gunfire was still present.

Slowly, another gun clicked into her hands, and a syringe fell into her hands as well.

A narcotic agent with mild effects but fast-acting properties, it would be able to neutralize Ojiro if it penetrated his skin. Another syringe shot out into her hand as a short range option, while she continued to drop smoke grenades.

Ojiro, of course, knew that something was up. Yaoyorzu needed stealth, and from the month of combat simulations and training in Hans's literal simulation, Ojiro was no newbie at combat anymore.

He slammed his tail into the ground, and out sprang even more boulders for him to hide behind.

Yaoyorozu gritted her teeth. This match was now a waiting game.

…

Present Mic sat in his announcer booth for three minutes, looking at a smoke cloud slowly growing larger.

"Well, as you can see… this match is very exciting."

The audience laughed.

"They can't all be as exciting, though, folks." He said, to try and fill in the holes in the action. "Some quirks depend on stealth, and that just isn't as interesting to watch. Well, as we can see in the infrared vision screen, the two are currently searching for each other in the cloud of mist that Yaoyorozu has created. Ojiro has cleared the mist before, but this time, he's obviously not doing it because not being seen is important for him, too!"

"...Just wait for the match to finish." Aizawa groaned, looking up from the corner of the announcement booth.

…

Was Yaoyorozu the hunter, or the hunted?

She contemplated this as she scanned the arena for the signature red glow of Ojiro's heat signature while her sound lures slowly grew fainter and fainter, their perpetual motion slowly degrading. Lying flat on the ground so as to avoid Ojiro's potential sweeping attacks, she waited. And crawled.

Ojiro's tail would have made him an easy target, but his last strike was rather impressive, using an already broken section of the concrete and exploiting the fault lines within the damaged structure to create more and greater cover.

There was a flash of red, and she pulled the trigger on her tranquilizer. The dart flew into the mist soundlessly save for a small zip, and Yaoyorozu knew that she had to relocate. That noise may have been an indicator. Loading her tranquilizer gun, she began to crawl for another area to wait.

Then, she saw Ojiro's leg flash past her vision.

Instantly, she stood up, metal rods sprouting from her body. Ojiro's surprised yelp indicated his direction, and she fired her tranquilizer dart low, so as not to hit somewhere like an eye.

There was a soft impact of flesh on stone, and Yaoyorozu sighed in relief. It was over.

Then, a rock moved right behind her. She whirled around to see Ojiro standing behind her, clutching the tranquilizer dart and preparing to stab it into her shoulder.

Quickly, more metal rods protrude from her body, pushing Ojiro away. She felt her limbs weaken from the sudden outflix of lipids, but there was no other choice. Yaoyorozu ran after where Ojiro was, produced another gun, and as Ojiro was recovering from his sudden fall onto the uneven terrain, she pointed it to the back of his neck.

"Okay…" Ojiro panted. "I surrender. For real, this time."

…

It was the semifinals, finally.

Hans stood in that same hallway for the fourth time. It was honestly getting a little repetitive. After the staff had finally cleared up all the smoke grenade remnants and broken bell things, Bakugo and Hans were ushered down to start their fight once Hans was deemed physically fit.

He was not going to win. And he felt… tired. Even releasing spite could get draining, especially since there was a nagging feeling constantly talking at him in the back of his mind.

Literally.

"Aren't you being a little too harsh or vindictive on them?" The Elder Tree Mother said.

"Am I?" Hans said, muttering back. "What I said could be the truth. Midoriya could be incredibly shallow and looking for popularity and acceptance. Todoroki is… well… he doesn't have the best mindset to keep being a hero. Both of what they're doing is stupid and reckless, and stopping now might honestly be better for them."

"But they're students. They're teenagers." The Elder Tree Mother insisted. "They're still learning. Besides, you are a cynic. Your view of them will inevitably be tinted."

Hans thought back to his speeches. Although they were intended as psychological tactics, they maybe had weighed a little too heavily on those students.

Maybe the students weren't used to being analyzed like this. Maybe they haven't heard a biased, but thorough investigation into their character. Even his talk during the first round had begun to wear on Midoriya's hardline protagonist mentality, not to mention Todoroki's drastic change in future planning.

Hans shook the thoughts from his mind. He still had something to prove.

That everything he said about the hero system not working wasn't said in spite of him not succeeding in it, but despite him succeeding in it.

But was proving hypocrisy wrong with obviously biased influences on his fellow classmates… really worth it?

His mind was that of a demon which loved bad endings. His gaze was eternally cynical and judging. He could see all the sins humanity wished to hide and so he knew what they were like.

Now, however, he was living as a human. And didn't that preclude change?

No. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Hans shook his head and tried to center his focus, just like Midoriya had powered through most of his speech.

This next person deserves no sympathy. There was no reason to be light on the spite in this next one.

So, feeling some emotion clawing at his back and dragging him down, he walked forwards anyways.

He was going to lose this match, but he would try his best anyways.

"Heh. Hypocrisy upon hypocrisy. Bias upon bias." Hans muttered. "In the end? Me and this rotten society… we're both broken in our own way."

"I wonder though…sometimes, I wonder. Which one is worse?"

AN

Hans begins to question his initial motivation and all his actions. Not something wrong to do, considering he did give very biased, pessimistic, and one-sided life advice to emotionally vulnerable teenagers. He's not doing anything good by a long shot.

But he did win those matches.

I also have to admit, that while trying to write this fic, I tried a little too hard to make the fic come to life.

I… may have influenced myself with pessimism while writing this fic, leading to the drastic tone shift during the roasts. And I understand that, after yet more discord conversations.

Did you know that Truman Capote descended into alcoholism and never finished another book after he wrote In Cold Blood? It's kind of like that, but instead of depression, it's cynicism for me.

Discord link: di scord . gg / s2uFUydRVd

-SpiritOfErebus

Another point of contention: Monoma can't use multiple quirks at a time. However, since the vine hair girl's quirk is a heteromorphic quirk, I think that my current thing makes sense. As Monoma uses big hands, his usage of his hair is slowing. The transition from a mutant quirk to his regular body is probably not instantaneous, so it's still feasible that his hair could move, though being much slower than before.. All he has to do is to stop using big hands for his hair to be restored to full function.

Chapter Text

The much-anticipated Bakugo roast is here. I won't talk too much.

-SpiritOfErebus

There was no more bullshit.

The crowd cheered. The flames roared. Bakguo smirked, cracking his knuckles from across the arena.

There was no more chance of winning.

Hans felt his eight percent of mana swirl around his entire being like the last drops in a bottle of water, barely enough to keep the interior of the bottle wet.

There would be no summons. No obstacles. No environmental hazards.

It was just Hans, Bakugo, and a pre-written roast encoded in his noble phantasm.

"Well…" Hans thought. "Victory was nice while it lasted."

…

Bakugo looked across the arena, at the little shit that had dared to climb to the semifinals.

The little shit that had gotten into UA through a rigged recommended exam that admitted five people. The little shit had gotten through the first task by teaming. That fucking midget had gotten through the second task by hiding.

He did not deserve to be here. In the literal best hero school in the world.

Thus, Bakugo gritted his teeth. He felt sweat starting to well up in his pores and distribute itself evenly across a palm already coated in semi-dried sweat. It was fucking uncomfortable, but comfort didn't equal effectiveness.

"With a constituent and strong push throughout the event, his fighting is anything but consistent with his explosive force! It's Bakugo Katsuki!" the loudmouth teacher shouted through the PA.

"And, on the other side, we have Hans Christian Andersen, the one that defeated the creator of the skyscraping glacier!"

The crowd cheered, and Bakugo smirked.

This was going to be fucking easy. This time, Bakugo wouldn't allow that midget any step forward.

"Are! You! Ready!"

Then, that pervy announcer brought her flogger down. And then, the midget did something. A single, blue sheet of paper floated across the arena, and Bakugo narrowed his eyes at it.

Had he seen this before? Bakugo remembered seeing a blue speck fly across the arena before Half-and-Half bastard unleashed the huge glacier.

Did that have anything to do with it?

For now, Bakugo evaded the projectile. With an explosion from his palms, he leapt upwards into the air. The sheet of paper somehow deviated in its wind-blown path to follow him upwards.

"Fine, then." Bakugo snarled, propelling himself forwards. Whatever this thing was, he would blow it up first.

As he rocketed towards the sheet of paper, it almost seemed to glow brighter when he brought his palms forwards.

Then, a bright light flashed.

It wasn't his explosion that flashed first.

For an instant, everything went blue. Bakugo was hit with a huge bout of vertigo as he landed on the ground. Everything pulsed once with blue as, for some reason, his vision had blanked out.

Then, the midget stepped forwards, a bow tie and lab coat appearing over the midget's clothes.

"Let's begin this in earnest." he said, crossing his arms arrogantly and adjusting a pair of glasses that weren't there before. "I've said this to Midoriya. I've said this to Todoroki. And now, I'll say it to you."

"Shut the fuck up!" Bakugo roared, shaking his head to clear the dizziness and rocketing towards Hans.

"Did you really think that you were special?"

With a swift moment that Bakugo never could expect out of the midget, he sidestepped his attack rush and retaliated with a picture perfect martial arts punch to the ribs. It didn't feel like it did any damage.

"Despite winning the genetic lottery and working hard to become a hero, you're just another one of the hero commission's plastic soldiers." the midget said. "There are doubtlessly thousands of kids around Japan, and thousands more across the world that have a comparable quirk, a comparable drive and comparable strength."

"Heh. Did you think that would break me?" Bakugo said, getting up from a roll on the concrete floor and smirking. "All your word games. All of your fucking bullshit. It's over during this match."

"But I suppose you are special in one way." Hans continued, not appearing to even have acknowledged Bakugo's statement. Bakugo narrowed his eyes. Something wasn't quite right.

"You're the actual worst person that I've ever met." Hans declared, crossing his arms. "Actually, I'll revise that statement. The second worst person that I've ever met."

"And you're just fucking whining." Bakugo said, rocketing forwards once more. Once again, the midget dodged out of the way like a goddamn martial arts professional, displaying an unnatural level of speed and flexibility for somebody of his stature.

"What, your arrogance is based on the experiences you have in your little scrap of a life?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms, one hand out from the cross to gesture vaguely. "Just because you were able to bully people, get praised by a clique of less accomplished people, and do almost everything without consequences doesn't mean that you're on top of the world. You're just a medium sized fish in a tadpole pond, swimming around in the low stakes environment that is a school."

Bakugo narrowed his eyes and looked around. Something definitely wasn't right about the combat arena. The crowd was oddly still. The sky's clouds were formulaic… too formulaic…

Was he trapped in a goddamn illusion?

"Besides, the reason for the teacher's lenience and constant praise to enable you to become a hero had a point." Hans said, smirking. "It was to stop you from forming grudges against society, while filling you with the desire to achieve success and popularity on a wider scale by becoming a hero."

Bakugo pinched himself. It felt real enough. He pinched himself again, only harder.

That… felt exactly the same.

He was in an illusion.

"You're a brainwashed puppet tugged along by strings that the Hero Commission controls, never actually seeing your own strings while being forced to dance." Hans said, pacing around the edge of the arena. "Targeted when you're a young child by societal norms that they make, in order to create a constant dichotomy and a constant population of heroes and villains out of the two extremes of the social classes so that their sham of a society can keep functioning. But you don't care, do you?"

Bakugo looked at the midget.

"You've realized that this is an illusion by now, right?" the midget said. "In fact, while I was saying everything about societal expectations and everything like that, you were looking for a way out of this thing, right? Because you're a fight obsessed maniac that thinks that strength is the only ticket upwards."

"It is." Bakugo said. "And you're only fucking whining because you don't have enough of it. You're a useless shit impersonating an actual hero."

"But let me say something that you can't ignore." Hans said, his body going abruptly still. Perhaps his illusion had finally run out of time, or something?

"Midoriya Izuku… is better than you."

"No he fucking isn't." Bakugo laughed.

He laughed. He closed his eyes and bent his back, laughing upwards to the sky. "Y-you don't seriously fucking think that the useless Deku… is better than me?"

"Despite being a person with questionable motivations, he does have a more morally righteous character than you." Hans said. "And also, far more potential. Because your belief in strength… in being number one… is fundamentally pointless."

"What do you mean pointless?" Bakugo said, "You couldn't take out Todoroki with this illusion, so why do you think it'll be able to take me out?"

"Midoriya aims to become a symbol of peace." Hans said. "Somebody that wants to save people with a smile. Despite being somebody that doesn't think about the consequences of his actions and what being a symbol truly details, to be able to wish for it after what you've done to him. After what society has done to him… it really says something about his character. It's with a very grudging attitude that I say this, mind you." Hans said.

"But you… your entire worldview is based on being the best. You think you are the best, so you think you deserve to be special. That the world deserves to revolve around you. But yet, you still have so much to prove. Innately, you know that you're weak. That you're helpless. That sometimes, you just can't save yourself."

Bakugo's stomach lurched. He remembered the suffocating- help, somebody, I can't breathe-

He shook his head. Not now. He wouldn't be beaten by this damn illusion.

"The modern age word of hero holds a very different meaning now." Hans said slowly, his still form suddenly mobile enough to move forwards. "Now, it's about fame. Fortune. Keeping the status quo and painting society over with a silvery sheen so nobody resists. Do you… know about the older times?"

"The Troubled Century?" Bakugo said, scoffing while putting on a brave front. Bakguo shook all thoughts of the sludge villain out of his head again. By thinking that he did, he obviously did not shake them all out.

"Every kid knows about that shit. It's when heroes were born. Heroes beat up all the fucking villains and stand at the top. Something you can't understand."

"The older times." Hans repeated. "Not anything you actually would know about now that I think of it. Or anybody now, really. Too much history has been lost during that century. But back then, in a different time, in a different world… the word hero meant something different too."

The scene changed.

…

Bakugo looked on as a gigantic bull stormed an ancient city. It was massive. Large in a way he couldn't quite explain. Floods raged all about as a river tore apart its banks and followed the hooves of the bull like an unrelenting serpent.

Before him, two figures stood, completely unaware of his presence. One with long green hair in a white gown, and one with golden hair in equally golden armor.

Nobody was watching them. Everybody had fled.

Yet, the two beings, seemingly almost nothing before the titanic creature before them, surged forwards into battle.

And after the battle, after lightning flashed, chains broke and surged forth, and as weapons poured from unknown golden gates, the one with green hair slowly withered.

The days flew by, seeming like seconds. And the one with golden hair stayed by. But eventually, a maggot poked its way out of the green haired one's nose. And the golden one turned, red eyes (so much like his) shaken, yet not regretting.

"Heroes had responsibility." Hans' voice said.

…

A man wielding a bright red spear of bone stood slumped against a rock, something coming out of his own stomach, that looped around the stone.

With a sickening thought, Bakugo realized that the thing was an intestine. And that the man was grinning like a maniac.

Had he ever been in a fight where he had chosen to engage an enemy he couldn't beat?

Still, one message was clear.

"Heroes persisted."

…

The next scene wasn't painful at all.

An incredible hero with a flaming lance gave away many powerful pieces of armor in the name of charity, and because of his kindness, he was killed in his next battle.

And despite the many misfortunes he faced, he pushed forwards. Abandoned by his birth parents, ridiculed for being in a poor family, and his poor social status.

That hero… still helped people. And for some reason, that Hero reminded Bakugo of Midoriya just a bit.

"Heroes were kind."

…

"Are you any of those things, Bakugo?" Hans said, "Because if you aren't, then all you have left is strength. Your strength, which is such an illusion compared to what is actually dangerous."

Then, Bakugo returned to the arena. Hans stood before him in a martial arts stance, before slowly, the figure changed. An old, graying man wearing a traditional red jacket and old-fashioned pants took his place. With a glint of the sunglasses, he stepped forwards, breaking the concrete underneath his feet, and aimed a quick punch at Bakugo.

Retaliating with an explosion, Bakugo found that despite taking some collateral, his outstretched arm was completely deflected. Next, he felt a fist impact his sternum.

"Where is your skill?" the old man said in Hans's voice.

The scene abruptly shifted. Bakugo watched a man with silver hair and dead eyes shoot down people hoisting guns onto a truck. The tanned man turned and said, in Hans's voice…

"Where is your decisiveness?"

The tanned man grew into a gigantic, dull-skinned monster with glowing, red eyes, wielding an ax that looked like it had been hewn out of stone. As it swung that massive piece of sharpened stone with an incredible speed, Bakugo could feel each titanic impact almost vaporizing his flesh.

It went dark, and Bakugo fell to the ground, feeling his limbs and the phantom pains to remind himself that they were still there.

Then, pillars of flesh rose from the void. Hans appeared in the middle of the darkness as the pillars spontaneously grew eyes, lasers seemingly firing from their pupils. Bakugo gritted his teeth and muted his screams, feeling the illusionary pain crawl up his spine. He was forced to watch as the pillars slowly hoisted up a… being… one that seemed to emanate the same aura as the pillars, only much stronger.

Beams of destructive energy soared forward like missile volleys from the figure's arms. Even its physical strength felt almost as immeasurable, no, beyond, the strength of All Might.

"These are real, by the way." Hans muttered. "I know that I have every reason to lie to you, but this… is real… somehow, somewhere. But when your strength fails you and you get completely overwhelmed… what does that leave you? Where does that leave you?"

Bakugo gritted his teeth and crackled his palms in resistance.

"Still ahead of you!" he shouted, stepping forwards the illusionary Hans.

Then, he emerged back into the arena. Where nothing had changed. The pillars weren't real. The demonic… beast wasn't real.

It was just him. And the midget again.

"Fuck you you piece of shit!" Bakugo roared. "I'm going to murder you!"

He leapt into the air, before sending explosions from side to side. Slowly, his body began to spin to bleed off sideways momentum as he rocketed towards Hans's smug face.

"Don't worry, you strength obsessed idiot." Hans said, grinning. "I'll obviously end this fight in the least satisfying way possible."

As he was ten meters from Hans, a gigantic hand appeared. Bakugo's eyes widened and he began to slow down immediately. If that hand slapped him, he would-

The hand slapped Hans out of the ring.

Bakugo tumbled to a halt, landing squarely in the arena. From the grass, Hans grinned as he stood up slowly.

Throughout the whole match, Hans had not taken a single step forward.

But why did it feel like the one that didn't move forward… was him?

…

"He's out." Yaoyorozu said on the battlefield. "It was to be expected, though. Hans was already low on energy."

"Is that the term he used?" Kirishima said at the stairwell, preparing to head down for their match.

"...Probably?" Yaoyorozu said, "Well, he never exactly elaborates, but… Now's not the time. Do you think you have a shot at taking down Bakugo?"

"...I'll try." Kirishima said, clenching his fist. "Do you?"

"There are many tools that would potentially be able to restrict his quirk, due to its inherent incendiary nature." Yaoyorozu said, crossing her arms and thinking. "However, most of those options will be inefficient on lipids, and if I win the match against you, I'll only have time during the match for third place to be able to replenish. So-"

"Let's not think about it too much." Kirishima declared. "Sometimes, we just have to do it. Whoever comes out on top during this match will have the best chance, okay?"

"...That's not what Hans would say." Yaoyorozu said. "But okay."

It was awfully hot blooded of them, but this was a hot-blooded event.

…

Kirishima and Yaoyorozu stood across from each other in the arena, slowly circling each other.

The match had begun a long time ago. The introductions had been said and Midnight had her fanservice moment. But they were still circling.

It was an awkward situation, given the fact that thousands of people across the country were watching this on live television.

"Are you going to make the first move?" Kirishima muttered, swapping his left with his right in his stance while making yet another turn.

"We're so aware of each other's capabilities that it's hard to directly start this battle, isn't it?" Yaoyorozu replied. "But there was a reason that I've been stalling for so long."

A sheet of paper finished printing from behind her back, and grabbing it, she immediately produced a punch card reader and a USB. Kirishima dashed forwards as Yaoyorozu put the sheet of paper into the device and set it on the ground, before she made foam pads appear before her forearms.

"It's time to see whether or not you really can handle explosives." Yaoyorozu declared, standing between Kirishima and the punch card reader, still slowly chugging its way past the lines of code written in binary.

Yaoyorozu was preparing drones. Kirishima had to finish this fast.

He advanced, activating his quirk along his arms. The razor sharp fingertips almost stabbed into Yaoyorozu's arms, but after tearing past the foam pads, the sharp tips glanced off a steel plate that had appeared right after the foam. Yaoyorozu retaliated with a punch that was made deadlier with a steel hand knuckle, making a dull clink as Kirishima hardened his skin to defend.

The battle continued as the two continued to throw punches and kicks, Kirishima slowly overpowering Yaoyorozu's current set of protective equipment and forcing her to constantly produce new ones. Flashbangs occasionally went off, but while Yaoyorozu was able to avoid their impact by producing earplugs and very dark sunglasses, Kirishima had to harden his whole body as his ears rang and whatever followup hits glanced off of his body.

Eventually, the machine behind Yaoyorozu dinged, and she let off one last flashbang, before running back to the punch card reader and extracting a USB off of the frankenstein of modern and relatively ancient technology.

A drone popped into her hand, and she plugged in the USB as it came to life. A headband that read brain electricity sprang into existence as she proceeded to make the drone take to the air, dead set on attacking Kirishima.

Punching it out of the air and feeling a container within the drone break, Kirishima noticed that he had been doused in flammable chemicals.

Then, the swarm came. Limited only by the fact that she had one USB, Yaoyorozu was able to send the drones she had soaring across the arena like a bullet hell, in an oddly specific pattern.

At long range and from across the arena, there wasn't an effective method for him to attack Yaoyorozu. And though he was durable enough, and his hardening granted him the toughness to have some degree of resistance to flames, he wasn't totally immune. His hair would still burn and he could still sustain some first-degree burns.

Thus, he ran forwards. Using a hardened claw to scoop up some chunks of concrete from the arena, he threw them as he went, aiming for the fragile propellers on the cheaply produced drones. Though most missed, the ones that hit were able to disrupt the net formation. Through a flurry of explosions and spiraling machinery, Kirishima got close.

Yaoyorozu wound up a punch… slightly too far away from him. Kirishima dodged anyways, because-

A sledgehammer shot out of her arm, adding weight and reach to the wide swing. The tool clattered to the ground, and just as Kirishima was about to go for it, Yaoyorozu swung a fishing hook that sprouted out of her arm and was linked by plastic string to get the sledgehammer out of the arena.

"You're not the only one with close range options, Kirishima." Yaoyoruz said, sweating as her eyes darted from drone to drone, her headband slowly steaming. Sweat that emerged was slowly evaporating.

"And you're not the only one with little tricks, Yaoyorozu." Kirishima said, bending back in a pitching throw and tossing one of the oldest weapons in known human history.

A rock.

As Yaoyorozu was forced to dodge the sudden attack, her drone formation became disorganized while she was distracted.

Kirishima ran forwards to cross those last few meters as Yaoyorozu abandoned her drones temporarily to focus on close range. Rockets sprouted out of her abdomen, destroying the bottom half of her shirt. Kirishima crossed his arms in front of him and tried to dodge out of the way, but the imprecise projectile was aimed at the floor.

He was blown backwards, his shirt catching fire in the process, but the explosion had created a lot of miscellaneous rubble. Kirishima quickly put out the flames and returned to looking at Yaoyorozu warily, all the while picking up more loose rocks and more ammunition.

He needed more speed. More range. Yaoyorozu didn't have speed, but she had literally all the options. Close range. Mid range. And there was no time limit on her abilities, unlike Monoma, and she was much more versatile as well.

Did he even have a skill advantage?

As the drones advanced once more, Kirishima realized that he did. The complicated thought processes involved in creating all of the various gadgets would be Yaoyorozu's downfall.

All he had to do… was get close and pressure her. And take anything that she sent his way.

With his quirk, that wouldn't be difficult.

He ran through the drones, his right half still slightly on fire. After a quick roll, though, his hardened skin was only just covered in a bit of soot. He sidestepped one improvised rocket and rubber bullets pinged off of his skin. A net was launched at him, but he was able to roll out of the way of that as well. Electricity couldn't make it past his hardening, which apparently made his skin an insulator.

At last, he was standing before Yaoyorozu.

"I'm… still not familiar with all of my possibilities." Yaoyorzu said, shedding her technological equipment. "One month wasn't enough training."

"We all need more time." Kirishima said, lunging forwards in a punch. His unhardened body provided more flexibility.

"But your quirk is so much simpler." Yaoyorozu said. "You've won in all the ways that matter this time… but I still have my small tricks."

A blade sprouted out of Yaoyorozu's hand, and Kirishima's reflexes saved him. The blunt weapon skidded off of his skin, hardened just in time to deflect the attack. Clearly, if that had hit unhardened skin, the judges would rule the match as Yaoyorozu's victory.

Still, Yaoyorozu was unbalanced, and Kirishima grabbed her with a hardened arm, bent her over his shoulder, and slammed her out of the arena.

It was over. Kirishima had won.

He looked back up to the stands, panting like a racehorse. His ringing ears and his slightly spotty vision did not impede the view of his next opponent.

…

While the teachers and assistants cleared the chemical waste off of the arena, Kirishima was quickly rushed to the infirmary in order to release UA from all liabilities from his potential injuries. Yaoyorozu, however, was informed that she had a match immediately after the break for third place as she was heading to the infirmary as well to check for any major injuries.

"Well, other than the bruise on your back that I took care of, along with a slightly low lipid concentration in your bloodstream, you're clear." Recovery girl said, ticking off her clipboard. "Stay here for a while, though, and report any pain. I need to go inspect another young man for chemical burns."

Yaoyorozu laid back on the hospital bed and took a deep breath.

"Nice job making it to the semifinals." Todoroki said, looking more relaxed than Yaoyorozu had ever seen him be.

"Are you… okay?" Yaoyorozu said, raising an eyebrow. "You don't normally act like this. Did the cold do something, or…"

"It's okay." Todoroki said, showing his body slowly steaming. "I'm using my fire to keep my body generally warm to get rid of any lingering cold patches caused by my quirk."

"But… why didn't you do this during the event?" Yaoyorozu asked. "If you had just used your fire, you could have recovered in time to continue using your quirk."

"Isn't Hans… your cult lead- I mean, friend?" Todoroki said, raising an eyebrow. "Were you hoping for him to lose?"

"Of course I want him to win." Yaoyorozu said defensively. "I just… don't exactly understand how he won."

"Through some kind of quirk-related magical paper, he talked to me." Todoroki said. "He said that I didn't actually want to keep going on this career."

"W-what?" Yaoyorozu sputtered.

"Think about it. You're a recommended student, too." Todoroki said calmly. Almost too calmly. "Haven't you felt the pressure to work harder? To push yourself to become a hero just because your quirk was suitable? Besides…"

Todoroki stopped talking for a moment, one hand trailing up to the burn scar on his left side.

"Family can be… difficult." he muttered.

"He said many things to me during our match, too." Midoriya said from his bed, now covered in several casts. "He talked a lot about how I didn't want to be a hero, and that I was just doing this all… for approval."

Midoriya looked down at his fingers, each completely entombed in plaster.

"He did say that if I honestly considered my faults, I'd get his approval or something, but on the other hand, I'm not entirely sure that what he says is right.

"We should all look into our motivations." Todoroki said. "After all, we're only-"

"Stop." Yaoyorozu said suddenly.

The two turned to look at her.

Yaoyorozu didn't exactly know why she said it, but there was something wrong with what they were saying.

It was too cynical.

She closed her eyes, and thought back. Ever since the beginning of the school year, Hans showed a constant bias towards anything related to the modern hero industry. From his snide remarks on the budget, to… the self-perpetuating nature of industrialized heroism, none of it stopped to look at the other side. Despite the basis in fact, it was still a skewed basis.

Hans was incredibly biased.

And he was talking to incredibly powerful, emotionally unstable teenagers handed more responsibility than they should honestly have been given.

"Just because some other person told you how to act doesn't mean you have to actually accept their viewpoint." Yaoyorozu said. "Besides, the person that knows you the best is yourself."

If Hans had said something across all of his matches to try and distract his opponents to win, needless to say, it had to be something that would cause an emotional response. But looking at Midoriya, normally quite vulnerable to things such as tears, and Todoroki, whose impassive nature was probably just being socially stunted…

"Hans…" Yaoyorozu muttered. "Are you really aware of what you're doing?"

Even though Hans had argued and debated with her in the past, they had gotten over it. The various mean-spirited insults were harsh, but Yaoyorozu always had just thought that it was well-meaning, in the very least.

But was it really?

Combined with his own self-deprecating statements, the fact that Hans's family was probably in a pretty tough state, and… his refusal to accept her uplifting statements, despite his perseverance?

Something was probably wrong with Hans. Being perpetually cynical definitely wasn't good for any person with a functionally sound mind. And she needed him to see that.

Next up, she would be fighting Hans.

…

"On one side, we have Yaoyorozu Momo! The maker of equipment and wielder of high explosives! Some other contestants might feel threatened by her chemical reactions!"

"Cheesy." Hans said, closing his eyes and smirking. His limbs felt sore and his eyelids felt heavy. But this was the last fight for today.

"I never really paused to listen to this commentary."

"And on the other side, with impressive adaptive elemental abilities, we have Hans Christian Andersen!"

"You should honestly stop and listen more." Yaoyorozu said, raising her fists. "That's your entire problem."

"My problem?" Hans said, spreading out both his arms and laughing. "Are we resuming the debates that we had previously paused?"

"No." Yaoyorozu said coldly. "This time, I'm teaching you a lesson. And for once, you should just listen. That's one advantage of being in a fighting venue. It doesn't end until one side loses."

"Start!" Midnight said, still as enthusiastic as before, though with a bit of strain in her tone.

Hans shook his head and raised his fists. He had no mana, and no desire to fight. But if Yaoyorozu, his very first verbal opponent in this godforsaken high school, wanted to fight?

He would humor her.

It was poetic, he supposed. This time, he would be on the receiving side. Poetic and stupid. But teenagers were allowed to be stupid occasionally.

After the match began, of course, he realized that he was no match for her. The fist busted apart his guard and impacted his stomach.

"Have you really thought about what you were doing in this event, Hans?" Yaoyorozu said, before dragging him back up. "You say you're just analyzing. It's just psychological tactics. That you're just providing distractions in order to get further."

"Am I wrong?" Hans said, right before ducking under a telegraphed punch.

"But you don't realize that what you say is true." Yaoyorozu said. "Or, at least, the closest to truth that most of us have ever heard. You're observant. Too observant. So observant that you're almost blind to half of the world."

Hans fell silent. Feeling the aches and pains on his legs and arms, he slowly stood up again.

"You're incredibly twisted. You're as broken and as wrong as the people that you insult." Yaoyorozu said. "And your words are actually causing an impact."

Hans feebly blocked a punch.

"On Midoriya."

Hans took a kick to the knees.

"On Todoroki."

Hans was pushed down onto the ground.

"On me, when you kept arguing with me about the budget. On Ojiro, when you gave him that sheet of blue paper as well. And the most terrifying part is? What you said could be right. You've filled us with doubt for our lives and our purposes that can be justified with logical thought. Is that a good thing? Or were those statements just childish ramblings because you refuse to see what good there is in society?"

"My words…" Hans rasped. "Are a poison. One that seeks to address your deepest flaws and find your weakest points."

"Then, were you just trying to manipulate us?" Yaoyorozu yelled. "To treat us like we're characters on a page? To be dissected in a literary analysis?"

Hans said nothing. For some reason, the smell of rust and aged iron filled his nose. It was probably the blood.

"...You hate yourself, don't you?" Yaoyorozu muttered.

Hans looked up at the sky, then slowly tried to sit up. He failed. He was truly at the end of his rope. But with what little elevation he managed to achieve, he strained… and saw Yaoyorozu's eyes at the edge of his vision.

Despite what she was saying and what she was doing, she… cared. She cared for the bad-attitude, cynical little asshole that he was.

"We aren't just two dimensional characters." Yaoyorozu said. "We all have our flaws. I realized that I had a serious self esteem issue. But I'm not only my flaws, am I? Your insistence on discovering the flaws of literally everybody you meet is infuriating."

"Why are you still here, then?"Hans rasped. "Speaking to me? Why are Ojiro and Kirishima still sticking around?"

"Because despite everything, I think that deep down, you still care. About yourself. About us. About this world that you say is poisoned and wrong. So don't make it so hard on yourself, okay? You don't have to hate yourself. You don't have to push away us and our own good intentions just because you think that you don't deserve any of it."

Yaoyorozu lifted Hans by the collar, and looked into his eyes.

"See the better half of the world. See the better half of the people, more importantly, see the better half of yourself."

He was pushed out of the ring. His legs felt weak as he was corralled towards the edge, and eventually, like a limp doll, he hit the grass that lined the outside of the white line. It was a thin line. So incredibly thin, but it divided the win from the loss. The jubilation from the despair.

"Yeah…" Hans mumbled, feeling his eyes slowly droop close. His head was dizzy from the one push that Yaoyorozu landed on him… and everything that had happened before on this god-forsaken sports festival.

Every ache and sore, every wind-blown scratch, every bit of previously half-frozen skin, every burn, and every curse caught up to his senses at that moment.

But it didn't hurt as much as it should have. For some reason, despite everything looking so blue, there was a tint of gold to the edge of his vision.

It didn't matter that he was probably trapped in a manga. There were still people here that he cared about. The parents of this life. That trio of idiots. Even maybe that one reformed villain.

Did it matter that they were probably just characters in a dubious manga? As long as there was more depth to them than tropes, which there were, maybe this world was sort of real to him.

Hans knew he was cynical. That this infuriating setting only compelled him to see the negatives. But without seeing the whole picture himself, as an author, how could he write a healthy narrative?

"Before I add depth to this shallow, badly written world…" he muttered. "The one that might need to change the most… is me."

This time, Hans Christian Andersen was human again.

AN

Aha! An MC in a fanfic that actually changes!

This was always the plan, even though everything that I said in the last AN holds true. This was the endgoal. To make Hans realize that he needed to change. Of course, it's been twisted into literary metaphors, but that's Hans for you.

Keep in mind that this never was a bash fic. It was what Hans would do in MHA, and i never pretended that this was a consequence less fic where MCs could roam about and do whatever the hell they wanted. Hans was sort of being manipulative by saying… very infectious words, and it's clearly worked. Even some of the readers agree fervently with it. And, of course, Yaoyorozu would retaliate. Despite being one of Hans's friends, she was also one of the first victims of Hans's twisted words.

PLEASE review to let me know how I did. I am not confident at all in my portrayal of this character twist. I was agonizing over this for like four to five hours while I grinded some notes. I don't normally beg for reviews (the last time I did this was when the court case arc was beginning), so when I do, you know it's sort of serious.

Discord link: discord . gg /  s2uFUydRVd

I hope you forgive me for faking some of the word count with this AN.

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

A quick finisher to this arc.

-SpiritOfErebus

Hans snapped out of his daze about thirty seconds later, almost about to be hoisted onto a medical robot by both another robot and Yaoyorozu.

Looking at the various bruises on his body slowly discolor his pale and blemished skin, Hans sighed.

"Did you really have to do that?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow and looking at Yaoyorozu. The robots, slightly disappointed that they couldn't continue to see humanoids in pain, sulked out of the room. "Besides, you're normally pretty calm and collected. It seems kind of out of character."

"Let's not say this on the field." Yaoyorozu said. "That was the match for third place. Kirishima and Bakugo are fighting next."

"Oh, right." Hans said, waving at Kirishima still waiting in the tunnel during the break before the finals match. Kirishima waved back. Bakugo, meanwhile, scowled at Hans.

"You're the only person that I've surrendered against, Bakugo!" Hans shouted. "How's that strength mindset treating you now that you're in the finals?"

"Fuck you!" Bakugo yelled.

The teachers looked distinctly uncomfortable, and averted their gaze to look at the fifteen minute timer counting down to the final fight.

"And what the hell was that crappy quirkless fight, huh?" Bakugo shouted. "You got your ass handed to you."

Hans sighed, before walking into the tunnel that led to the infirmary. Truly, some people never even tried to learn.

As the footsteps above them made the tunnels slightly noisy, the two walked in silence. Hans could hear the sound of concessions being sold, people being disappointed by their fight for third place with disapproving, angry yells, and toddlers excitedly emulating the scenes of violence that they had watched for the entire day.

After they were sufficiently deep into the concrete tunnels, Yaoyorozu spoke.

"What happened to, well, accepting to see the good in people?" Yaoyorozu said. "You're still really dishing it out to Bakugo."

"He's the second worst person that's relatively sane I've ever seen." Hans sighed, massaging his temples once he was in the fluorescent lights of the tunnels. "Besides, have you seen the things he gets up to? He probably bullied Midoriya for his entire life, routinely makes violent threats to us, and literally shouted that he would murder me during his match."

"You do have a point." Yaoyorozu said, nodding. She was about to begin her second nod when she suddenly paused. "Wait a minute… This is what I was talking about. You keep on spreading whatever cynical but logically sound beliefs around way too convincingly. It's almost like… you're manipulating us."

"Was that the reason you didn't let me talk?" Hans said. "I really felt… dragged along during that conversation."

"If we were having a civil conversation, do you really think you would have allowed me to say that much?" Yaoyorozu said, raising an eyebrow. "You'd keep rebutting everything that I say without listening to a word, and end up convincing me again.."

"That's absurd." Hans began. "I- Oh, damn, I'm doing it right now, aren't I?"

Yaoyorozu nodded.

"And when I realized that you were manipulating us without even realizing, I felt… sort of betrayed. I mean, I never really had that many friends growing up."

"Rich parents, right?" Hans said. "You probably had tutors and everything."

"Yeah…" Yaoyorozu muttered. "And in the little group of people that I've been managing to talk to in this school, we've all sort of been strung along by you. Obviously, unintentionally, on your part. And… I guess I got angry. Is that weird?"

"No." Hans said, reaching up and… not quite making it to her shoulder. His shoulder was in quite some pain. "You're just a three dimensional character. But more importantly, you're a teenager. You're allowed to be angry and stupid occasionally."

"And what I did was wrong. I shouldn't have beaten you up to try to get my point across. That is just stupid." Yaoyorozu muttered. "But then you wouldn't have listened, and, this has just become circular logic, and what am I even saying?"

"We all were wrong." Hans said, sighing and putting his hands in his pockets. The pair of pants that had been through multiple cyclones (Midoriya's finger blasts), two ice ages (Todoroki), and a near miss from a torpedo were still intact, if not just a bit frayed.

"If I was pretending that what I said was legitimate criticism, which, well, it is… just not healthy criticism… I could have either kept it to myself like a normal person or talked to them normally if I was a rational person. But sadly, I'm neither. We're… all… human."

Somehow, that word didn't feel as wrong to say as it used to.

"We're allowed to be petty, and make irrational decisions. That's what makes us a complete character, and not just a machine accepting inputs and outputting the optimal response like we're in some novel with a protagonist that is somehow always right. What we were doing was wrong, and we need to address that."

"So will you… actually change?"

"...No." Hans said, admitting it a bit shamefully. "Despite what you had said making some sense, it's not actually effective enough to constantly affect my thought process. I'll still be a cynical asshole that's too irritating for his own good, but I'll actually apologize to Todoroki and Midoriya. And I'll try… to be more considerate."

"Not Bakugo?" Yaoyorozu said.

"No." Hans said. "He's the second worst person that I've ever met that was of a functionally sound mind."

"...What kind of people do you mean? And who is the literal worst person?" Yaoyorozu said, rubbing her eyes. Hans noticed that there was a little, moist trail tracking down her cheek, and said nothing.

Sometimes, it was better to say nothing.

"You don't want to know." Hans said. "They're a real prat. Irritating… Irrational… The whole package."

"But… yeah. I'm sorry." Yaoyorozu sighed.

"What really is sorry is the situation that puts teenagers in a high pressure environment without training, after a traumatizing experience such as the USJ, and the desire for UA to either profit off of the festival or further their prestige by showcasing their hero course students against a backdrop of cannon fodder."

The two kept walking.

"You see? Social commentary. Something where nobody has to be hurt."

Yaoyorozu chuckled.

"Yeah, this whole festival is foolhardy. That I can agree on. But for now, all we have to worry about are internships, right?"

Hans almost tripped.

"What do you mean internships?"

"It was on the forms that your parents signed, you know? Your quirk data and a tape made by the UA faculty showcasing your quirk would be made available to heroes expressing interest in a week-long internship." Yaoyorozu said.

Hans fell silent.

"Your parents read the forms, right? Right?"

Hans said nothing.

…

"...And it's time, folks!" Present Mic shouted into the PA system. "Do you all have your drinks? Your popcorn? Your limited edition All Might popsicles? Just kidding. Those weren't limited editions. But now, it's time for the final match of the festival! Give it up for the two! Last! Contestants!"

The crowd roared. The arena flamethrowers went wild, spewing huge blasts of flame into the air. Midnight waved jauntily at the crowd, her last moments in the spotlight for the event passing in an avalanche of activity across the tan stretch of tight fabric.

Then, the smoke cleared and the dramatic effects diminished on the screens to concentrate on two faces. One? A determined red haired boy flexing not to flaunt his muscles, but to show his sturdiness and dependability. The other? A blonde boy showing a dangerous scowl. Appealing in an edgy sort of way.

"Finally." Bakugo rasped. "Some honest fucking fighting."

"You're not sounding as sure as you usually are, Bakugo." Kirishima said, settling into a stance. "Did Hans get to you or something?"

For a moment, Bakugo did nothing. Then, he forced himself to stomp forwards aggressively.

"Did you get fucking tricked by his illusions too? By what he showed you?"

"Well, that's the difference between you and me, Bakugo." Kirishima said, gritting his teeth.

"Ready?" Midnight shouted, raising her whip high into the air.

"I listen to advice."

"Start!"

Kirishima immediately ran for the center, his body unhardened for the sake of maneuverability. Bakugo started the match with a slap towards the ground, testing Kirishima's fortitude with a fairly large explosion.

Concrete was sent flying. Dust clouds appeared from the destroyed surfaces. But amidst the shaking, Kirishima stood firm, his arms hardened and crossed in front of his face.

"You just don't fucking get him, do you?" Bakugo roared, rocketing forward. "That little shit is just fucking with us us! Manipulating all of us with his fancy talks and trying to put doubt into our heads!"

"His words are cynical." Kirishima said, sidestepping the charge while keeping good footing. As Bakugo changed courses with an explosion with one hand, Kirishima braced for the shockwave and tossed out a handful of rocks.

A wide-eyed Bakugo was forced to dodge out of the way of the projectiles heading towards his face. Instead of hitting his nose, however, the rocks scratched his arms as he flew by.

"But you can't deny that they're able to show you the worst of yourself. The parts of you that you don't want to admit."

"So he did get to you then." Bakugo said, grinning and brushing his arm. It stung. But only just stung. He was still good to go.

"But addressing your own problems and faults is also healthy." Kirishima declared. "I'm able to confront my cowardice better now that he's addressed it. I'm stronger now that I know my faults."

"You really are an idiot." Bakugo said, rubbing his hands. More sweat poured from his glands and coated his palms in preparation for the next strike.

"I'm a self-aware idiot." Kirishima said, releasing the shards of rock that still remained in his iron grip. "But you? You're a morally bankrupt delinquent that finds fulfillment by being better than other people. Do you really deserve to call yourself a hero?"

Bakugo gritted his teeth. At the edge of his consciousness, pains on his limbs and the sensation of burns crawled over his skin once more.

It was all fucking fake, right? There was no way that shit existed. The midget was just trying to get on his nerves. To manipulate him and take his mind off being number one.

"Well…" Bakugo said, regaining some of his old, dangerous grin. "If you lose to me, what does that make you?"

Bakugo leapt up into the air, sending one explosion to the left. His sweat dripped from his palms, igniting in midair like a shower of sparks. Black, oily smoke began to first rise, and then as the drops of sweat slowly began to grow more frequent, Bakugo was sent in a spin. The forces surrounding him in a vague circle began to drag the smoke with it, shrouding Bakugo in an ominous cloud.

"Howitzer… Impact!" he yelled, rocketing forwards as he spun like a pulsar. The orange glow on his palms streaked past the smoke like starlight cutting through a clear, night sky, going straight for Kirishima.

Kirishima reared back a fist, and punched the ground. Using the impact and a jump to gain altitude, he soared above Bakugo's rotating explosion.

"What the-" Bakugo yelled, before grinning.

"This'll just blow you out of the arena, then!"

Kirishima twisted his body in midair once more, still judging where the center of the explosion was.

Then, the impact hit.

The arena glowed orange for an instant, before the shrapnel shot out from where Bakugo hit the concrete, the shattered chunks flying out and embedding themselves into the surrounding grass, already yellowing from the extreme temperature changes, frequent chemical spills, and the constant explosions.

"I see you!" Bakugo cackled, looking up and seeing Kirishima's hardened, flailing body. It was still within the bounds of the arena, but as Bakugo blasted himself upwards, regardless of his shaking arms, he knew that he had the match in the bag.

Of course, that was until Kirishima suddenly straightened his body and began to plummet like a rock, heading directly for Bakugo. Grabbing onto Kirishima's face, Bakugo tried to spin once more and catapult himself out of the ring, but that plan changed when Kirishima's arm abruptly softened, grabbed Bakugo's body, and then hardened once more around his neck.

If he threw Kirishima out, he himself would be following.

"As if… I'd be… caught!" Bakugo roared, constantly blasting Kirishima with one hand while extending another hand upwards. A blast erupted in the air like a barrel of explosives, sending the duo straight to the ground, with Kirishima on the bottom.

Of course, as Kirishima hardened his leg and swung it, the impact was turned sideways.

The impact made another dust cloud on the already shattered concrete, but with another explosion, the two contestants were separated.

Bakugo crouched, panting, on one side of the arena. One concrete shard stabbed into his bicep.

On the other side, Kirishima nursed an ugly crack on his torso, caused by the almost non-stop explosions that the hand gripping his body had performed.

Wordlessly, the two charged each other.

…

Bakugo raised an arm to prepare to blast Kirishima in the face, only for Kirishima to abruptly stop his punch as his whole upper body hardened.

The blast did nothing.

Kirishima punched forwards, and Bakugo was forced to take a step back, his hand still outstretched in an attack.

Then, Kirishima's other arm approached for a grapple. Bakugo's hand set off an explosion, utilizing Bakugo's backwards momentum to set the arm back into safety. Gritting his teeth, Bakugo set off an explosion with his injured arm, the impact sending a searing pain up his bicep.

He ignored this pain.

Of course, Kirishima had reacted to the attack once more, hardening his body and freezing his motions in order to use his maximum durability.

Obviously, Kirishima's hardening weakened when he moved. Therefore, Kirishima had trained to only harden when an attack was immediately inbound. This required experience. This required combat training. Something that Kirishima hadn't been doing during their quirk training sessions at all.

Bakugo remembered the martial arts that the illusions of the midget had been using. Maybe those illusions weren't as simple as he thought.

But now wasn't the time to think about the midget, no matter how much that bastard irritated him. Because he, Bakugo Katsuki, was currently being forced back. He wasn't sure how close the white line was, but it was really fucking close.

Meanwhile, Kirishima kept pushing forwards with grim determination, his durability and endurance winning over Bakugo's wounded arm and reduced offensive capability.

"But when your strength fails and you get completely overwhelmed… where does that leave you?" The midget said.

Fuck. That.

"When I get overwhelmed…" Bakugo muttered, gritting his teeth. "I'll just fucking push through!"

Fuck this disadvantage!.

Bakugo forced his hands forwards for one big explosion. As Kirishima hardened up his body once more, Bakugo himself was blown back.

That was fine. He needed the space for this to work. Because if he couldn't explode Kirishima out of the arena, he'd just have to push him out.

Fuck this injury!

Bakugo roared, ignoring the pain in one of his arms as he held out both arms behind him, his foot just on the white line.

Fuck that philosophical bullshit!

"Explosive… Rush!"

…

As Kirishima looked up after Bakugo's last great attack, he saw Bakugo's face abruptly get larger.

Bakugo was trying to push him out of the arena.

For a moment, Kirishima panicked. He could defend against the explosions. He could defend against the aerial attacks and the impact damage.

But he wasn't particularly heavy. He could still be pushed. For a moment, Kirishima envied the flashy, powerful, versatile, and powerful quirk that Bakugo had. The repetition was intentional as Kirishima realized just how much of a gap remained between them.

No.

Kirishima didn't make it this far just to surrender to a powerful, advantageous attack. He was an idiot and a coward deep down, sure, but he was a self aware idiot and coward.

Kirishima was already past that mental hurdle. There wouldn't be hesitation. Not now, when every thought counted for time.

Despite being injured, Bakugo was probably pushing past it in order to use sustained explosions and knock Kirishima out of the arena. And if Kirishima kept dodging, he would be overwhelmed by Bakugo's mobility eventually, considering the fact that his turning speed was limited by the wound on his torso.

Thus, he had to take the attack head on. The key part to any stance was good and stable footwork, but Kirishima couldn't exactly amass enough momentum to combat Bakugos' explosions. He would still be pushed out of the ring then.

His only hope was friction, but on the broken concrete, there was no way that there would be enough-

"Wait a minute…" Kirishima thought, "Footwork didn't have to be ground level, though, did it?"

Hardening his feet, Kirishima felt his shoes disappear into shreds as he kicked his back foot six inches into concrete. He plunged his front heel into the concrete and brought his hands forward as Bakugo's foot impacted his palm.

"Die!" Bakugo yelled, explosions cracking behind him. Like a rocket, Bakugo pushed forwards. And tracking deep lines in the concrete, Kirishima resisted.

'

Looking into Bakugo's eyes, he struggled against that savage glare. There was no opportunity to raise his feet now that he had taken Bakugo's solid blow.

More explosions crackled, and slowly, Bakugo pushed Kirishima towards the line.

This wouldn't be it. Was footwork not enough? Was his training not enough? Was he overreaching with his capabilities? Overextending?

Overextending.

That was it.

As Kirishima approached the white line, one of his hands suddenly stopped trying to resist Bakugo's rocket kick, grabbing onto his shin. Then, with a shout of his own, he brought the hand up and hardened his face.

Bakugo's combat boots slid across Kirishima's smoothly hardened face, and sailed past Kirishima's body. Bakugo's red eyes burned brightly with sudden realization and regret as he went over the line.

Bakugo's hands were still blasting explosions, and the explosive force, coupled with Kirishima's sudden movements, were enough to knock him over. Reaching out with a hardened hand, Kirishima clawed into the spiderwebbed concrete for a handhold, keeping himself in the arena as nothing but a statement.

As Kirishima lay flat on the uneven ground, his torso aching and his body sore from all the sudden transformations, he turned his gaze up to see confetti soar up into the air.

Amidst all the colors, amidst the blue and gold scraps and the red and black ribbons, Kirishima grinned.

He didn't flinch in the face of overwhelming power. He didn't hesitate this time.

…But hadn't he already done that? During the villain attacks at the USJ. During the court case attack. All he had done was proved in front of the public that he was, apparently, at the top of a bunch of high schoolers that had barely received organized instruction about how to fight.

Suddenly, the victory didn't feel as significant anymore.

AN

The sports festival is finally over now. Hopefully, the Bakugo vs Kirishima fight wasn't a disappointment.

For the conversation at the beginning, I hope it made more sense, explored some character motivations, and shed some more light on the situation.

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

I'm three days late.

Three days late from realizing that this fic… is a year old. (OK, on the ffnet post date, but this is a crosspost and I don't want to delete my attempt at a heartfelt message. Sorry. Please don't crucify me.)

…Yeah, I didn't realize that either. But this may very well be the most that I've ever written in a year. My longest fic still is 140k, an embarrassing RWBY OC fic that was my 2nd fic (The less said about the first one that I posted and erased on AO3, the better. Don't worry, it wasn't smut.)

And I just want to say to all of you readers… Thank you.

I never realized that I could exactly do innovative stuff with settings until this fic. Up until now, my writing has mostly just been either memes, mindless action sequences vaguely referencing stuff that the show actually has in a comedic manner, but with this one, I decided to go off the rails.

I chose the worst match of servant to setting, aimed my pen at the least explored parts of either setting (FGO and MHA), and just started writing. It was stupid, and I did rely on rather cheap humor for the first couple chapters, I think. But hey, I invented an entirely new arc of MHA in this fic that the canon setting has probably never mentioned: the legal system :D. And things just kept snowballing from there.

Now that we're through the sports festival, where most crossover fics stop updating because the author gives up or something (I think), and into the internship arc.

None of this would be possible without your support. Every comment fuels my veins. It pumps my heart and pushes me through those hard exams just so I can get back to writing this. It's insane to think, also, that I have about a 120 word to 1 comment ratio (again, on ffnet. It's going a lot worse here) . The amount of dopamine that I've extracted from obsessively checking the comment section after every chapter update is… well… not that significant, but still a much needed boost in these trying times.

Soo… Thank you for reading this far, I apologize for padding this author's note with so much text that most people aren't going to read, and hopefully, you enjoy an oddly introspective chapter.

Let's make this year of this fic a good one.

-SpiritOfErebus

An observation had to be made.

Hans… was really out of his depth.

Looking at the bits and pieces of mechanical jargon that he was trying to incorporate into the next chapter of his novel, he scratched his head.

It probably wouldn't work.

Nothing ever works out for him.

Looking up at his desk, he noticed an accumulation of papers. From the various English and Japanese assignments that he breezed through to the mathematics that he suffered past pointlessly, each and every returned worksheet lay on his secondhand, wooden desk.

Hans's assigned readings lay buried beneath the white mound, each and every one having been annotated once and never forgotten. Hans's math textbooks hovered near the surface of the platter of papers, its corners bent and well-thumbed. A small gathering of broken mechanical pencil lead had rolled into the nooks and crannies where the desk met the wall, a graveyard to the graphene that never made it to the battlefield.

Slowly, Hans exhaled. A deep and long, yet quiet and soft breath. Closing his eyes, he felt… something… peel away from him.

But what was it?

Was he the unchanging soul carved wholesale out of a reader's impression? Was he the child whose body got stolen by a ghost when they were four? Was he just the creation of an author's impression, or an actual conscious entity?

If he was any of those, could he change?

And on the slim chance that his existence wasn't any of those, and could experience change… Did he want to accept this unnerving uncertainty? This tense feeling of melancholy, accompanied by a state of relaxation? This feeling of satisfaction, yet the desire for more? Or was it a feeling of dissatisfaction, yet a yearning for less?

What Hans did know, however, was that he was out of his depth.

Living was never one of his strong suits. Even in life, he was extremely paranoid, frightful of losing that first, precious, and what he believed to be his only life. There were ropes packed into his bags in case of emergencies at any building. A note beside his bed at all times, saying that he only appeared to be dead in case he was deemed dead and accidentally buried alive. A fear of eating pork, of all things, because it could give him a disease.

There were many times where he himself had been the obstacle to happiness.

But now? Unburdened by the fears of yet another death? Knowing that each defeat, each deathly wound would just result in dematerialization? He should be relieved and relaxed.

Yet here he was, writing day in and day out for a light novel series he only just mildly tolerated to provide for a family that wasn't even fully his. Brainstorming future training simulations for those three idiots. Keeping his grades up to keep up a scholarship in a school he hated.

From his unshakeable spirit origin and his undeniable past, what had changed? Why was he practicing this futility? This sentimental attachment that would make the bad ending inevitably in store for a character like him even worse to bear?

Hans stood up and stretched, feeling a wave of lightheadedness assault his mind as he sat up from hours of sitting down. Pins and needles sprang up along the nerves in his legs, but he sighed and walked them off. Staggering towards the solitary curtain for a window high up in the wall, he stepped on a slightly dusty stool and dramatically unveiled the light.

As dust cascaded from the normally untouched piece of fabric, beams of light slowly filtered into his room.

For the first time in a while, he took a serious look around.

His bed was unkempt, like somebody had rolled out of it, chugged one of the several cans of coffee stowed upon his bedside drawer, thrown the can haphazardly into a trash can, and then walked out into the hallways with covers still entangled with their legs.

His walls were a pale yellow, not out of neglect, but merely out of the sheer age of their construction. Some pictures were nailed to the wall, but the photographic trail documenting his growth stopped when his dead eyes replaced the vibrant ones of an innocent child.

And… that was it. There was nothing else indicative of personality in the room. Just mountains and mountains of paper.

Hans tore his gaze away, and instead, looked outwards.

The rooftops were like any other. Flat. Grey. Punctuated only by the square lumps that were the air conditioning units and the occasional brown blob of a potted plant, it was as monotonous as could be. Windows of various cleanliness lined the apartments that portrayed themselves landscape in front of his own. Some were clean, probably diligently scrubbed by washcloth every day. Some were foggy and misty. Others had strange splotches and gray patches, indicating that they hadn't been touched in years.

This world was truly disgusting.

It was like a barrel of crabs, each clambering on top of each other. The working men and the criminals. The heroic and the villainous. The naive and the jaded. Each clambering on top of each other to get out of the pit.

Once one climbs on top of the other, the one below will resist. Once one is sent to the bottom of the pile, furthest from the border of salvation, they'll make sure that no other ones get out as well.

And watching them from above?

The powerful. The rich. The ones with connections. The ones that were never in the pit in the first place. All watching them struggle with each other. And whenever they feel particularly hungry, they'll take one of them out of the barrel with a pair of steel tongs, at a distance too long for the crab's claw to reach, and place them in a paper bag to take home and steam.

As a small, insignificant, weak crab himself, with almost no meat on his bones, his own beady little eyes could observe the without having the ambition to climb himself

Everybody struggled. Some struggled more, some struggled less, but in the end? Everybody struggled.

But was this truly different from the world he had lived in before?

Minus the potential magical background that he never noticed, there were the same petty conflicts. The more fortunate struggled with the less fortunate. The landlords in eternal strife with their tenants. Even rulers of different countries weren't free, dragged along by the colliding sails of their respective countries and forced to clash on the battlefield.

Here, there were just a couple more types of crab in the barrel. Hero students competed against each other, seeking to divvy up the pie of wealth and fortune offered to their year in the pan of the camera and the flash of the lights. Villains took from society, while society desperately tried to rid itself of criminals to better itself.

And when one of the crabs got too close to the rim, those already in power, those pulling the strings through generations of gathered wealth, power, and political influence would work together to keep the population they fed from in the hole.

There was no end to this struggle. Every crab wanted out of the pit, but literally nobody else wanted them to get out. Every revolution was just replacing the person with the tongs with another person, selected from the pit of crabs to become a person that had goals aligned with the others at the top.

But as an observer, as a crab whose beady eyes had been watching for years upon years, there was a certain… irresistible quality to it as well.

Casting aside differences in position and goals, each person was indeed striving for their own way to get out of the barrel, if it was either being financially independent, being famous, being wealthy, or just being able to eat consistently every single day. Being able to continue on in the face of failure, in the face of criticism and defeat, despite their unerring morality. Hans himself was never this brave, and probably never will be this brave.

Which is why, despite their supposed ignorance about their circumstance, despite their existence as crabs, and despite their struggles sabotaging the efforts of their fellow strugglers, they were ultimately what was portrayed in his stories.

After all, the author turns to the pen when the world doesn't go their way.

But could Hans, a being devoid of their drive, their effort, and their passion, really understand them?

"Once again…" Hans sighed. "I'm out of my depth."

…

Staring at the crab legs on a table, Hans seriously regretted his choice of analogy.

"What's the occasion?" Hans said, looking at the poorly hidden plastic wrapper in the trash. He hadn't missed that price tag.

At the dinghy little dinner table rescued from somebody else's trash, his two parents sat… somewhat nervously.

"Well, isn't it obvious? Want to give our son a debriefing, darling?"

"Anne, I think that, as you are the one that made the dish, you should be the one to introduce it!"

After blinking slightly to get the obnoxious kitchen light out of her eyes, she burst into a wide, unwarranted smile.

"...Congratulations!"

Hans looked at his mother's strained expression. His parents first looked at each other, before looking back at Hans.

"For what?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow.

"You got fourth in the sports festival!" she said. "And against actual hero students!"

There was an awkward silence. The scent of steamed crab filled the kitchen, the somewhat artificial meat giving off the same feeling as a microwaved lunch. Yet, as Hans looked down, he could see the effort put into gently shaving off each and every spike on the crab's legs so that his fragile skin wouldn't be cut on it.

"I… I can't do this…" his mother muttered. "I just can't anymore…"

"I understand." Hans said, looking up and grinning slightly. "I didn't even want to do this in the first place, but now I'm fighting superpowered people with abilities beyond our comprehension, right?"

"How did things get so… so… intense? So bad? In that last match, you- you- didn't even try to-"

"I did." Hans said proudly, yet sadly. "I blocked a punch. But what I'm more impressed by was the fact that somebody finally attempted to stand up to me verbally."

"Son." his father said, putting a hand on Hans's shoulder. "If you don't want to be a hero anymore, if you ever want to leave UA, just tell us. We already have so much debt that getting some more fines from UA probably wouldn't matter."

"...And you bought these crab legs?" Hans said, looking down at the meal.

"Well, we can't exactly return them, can we?" his father said, closing his eyes and smiling. "I mean, they're already steamed."

"Yeah." Hans muttered. "We're already steamed and immobile. There's no real reason to fight it, anyways."

"What do you mean?" Anne said, "We can't fight a dead crab. It's already dead, been dismembered, and steamed."

"Just like we can't fight our fate, right?" Hans said, mirroring his father's weak smile. "Our destiny is already dead, dismembered, and steamed. We were all put in such a deep hole of debt that we… just can't climb out of, right?"

There was silence at the table, but the silence this time leaned towards sad rather than awkward.

"But it doesn't matter." Hans said, standing up. He didn't get much taller compared to his sitting self. "Because what matters… is that we've tried, right? And look at us! We're three people, suffering every single day for a goal that we didn't exactly ask for, eating something as luxurious as crab legs in celebration!"

"Heh… Hehehe… Hahaha…" his father chuckled, his voice slowly getting lower and more watery. "Yeah, I guess we are lucky, right?"

"You know what? At least we're together." Anne said, putting a hand around Hans's neck and patting her husband's back. "Our son didn't break any bones, and we're eating crab legs! What else could we possibly want?"

"I don't know… a new refrigerator?" Hans smirked.

The three turned around to see the refrigerator that UA had given Hans as "assistive equipment". The futuristic, silvery, and shiny appliance stood at odds with the scratched up oven, the yellowing paint on the cabinets, and the frayed tablecloths that lined the cooking counter.

"...You know what? Screw these crab legs." his father said. "They're probably fake anyways. We didn't even have to wash them or anything. Who's up for some classic sandwiches?"

"I mean, we don't have to completely abandon those pieces of cheap shredded fish put in an empty crab shell, right? It's still food that we spent 5000 yen on."

Later, chewing on sandwiches made from roasted sliced ham, what was probably imitation crab, and rye bread, Hans nodded.

"This… actually tastes pretty good."

…

"Wasn't there something that I was supposed to do?" Hans muttered, lying on his bed and staring up at the blank ceiling. "I updated my story, I had a celebratory dinner, I bought more coffee to sustain my unhealthy lifestyle… What else is there?"

Maybe it was further back than today. Yesterday was the last day of the sports festival, and he had gone home after he watched, from the hospital bed as Bakugo silently seethed on stage with a silver medal.

Midoriya, his fingers in a seriously dubious state, had been ushered away for more intensive care, while Todoroki had staggered out of the infirmary in order to go back to the 1-A stands and observe the frustrated face of his pro-hero parent.

Oh, right. Those two.

Something had to be said to those two, after all.

Maybe Hans's nature was an immotile boulder, but those two were still young and impressionable. Having something that was as confusing and one sided disguised as logic said to them would… probably cause some mental turmoil.

But which one was easier to talk to? That was the question.

Hans considered phoning Midoriya, but given the fact that internships were coming up and something dramatic and life-changing was going to happen to the shounen protagonist then, he'd rather not set any more flags. His life was troublesome enough without them.

Then… Todoroki?

With a shaky hand, he opened an app that was only used a couple of times. Way too little for the teenager that he supposedly was.

The telephone app. With Iida forcing the numbers of everybody in the class onto his phone as a means of "improving his communication skills and to foster a polite way of speaking", Hans… did indeed have everybody's number.

Scrolling down to Todoroki's number and thinking about how to rationalize the words he had said, he paused. His blue eyes, illuminated by the bright white of the phone screen, shone in the dark room like off-brand sapphires.

"Well, better late than never."

He clicked the button.

…

Lying flat on his futon, with aches and pains all over his body, Todoroki looked up at his pale, white ceiling.

His performance had been… less than satisfactory… to Endeavor. Washing out in the third round wasn't even remotely close to what Endeavor had wanted.

Making it merely to the top eight? It wasn't befitting of somebody with his potential.

"If only you had used your fire…" Endeavor growled "That buffoon would have melted before you. He was using your ice to his advantage, and yet you just let him take victory right from your grasp! When will you cease your meaningless rebellion, Shoto? You… have truly disappointed me this time."

Todoroki sighed, his face still as impassive as ever. The moon shined in from the open window as a cloud slowly passed over it, leaving a patch of moonlight that illuminated nothing but his disfiguring scar. It had faded now, into a patch of wrinkles and slightly darker skin.

But every time it blinked, he would feel the whole mass shift.

Then, his phone rang. Grabbing it reflexively, he looked at the name to see if it was Fuyumi or Natsuo. But, instead, it showed a chain of Hiragana that his sleep deprived eyes couldn't identify.

"Hans… Christian… Andersen?" he muttered. "Why is he calling?"

Thinking back to the entire holographic lecture that shouldn't have convinced him, Todoroki looked contemplatively at the green button on the screen.

Why… did he listen to the rambling words of that incredibly cynical child?

For the life of him, Todoroki couldn't figure it out. He couldn't figure out why he wanted to be a hero, why he kept at being a hero, why his brother had disappeared, why he was at UA, why his father obsessively pursued his goals, and why…

He paused.

There were a lot of whys he didn't care to ask. He just… kept doing. He kept using his fire when his father told him to. To use his ice when he needed to cool down.

And for the first time in his life, when he entered UA, he figured something out all on his own.

In combat… he would never use his left.

It didn't answer any of his whys, but it did stop his questioning somewhat

But why did he figure that out in the first place? Was it to spite his father? Was it to bring personal satisfaction? Was it just simple teenage rebellion?

He didn't know.

Here's another question. Why did he let Hans win, then? Why did he go along with the final plan that inevitably ended in him losing? Was it a spur of the moment decision? Was the vision of a future where he completely avoided his problems by dropping out of the hero career when he was free just so tempting to him?

Was he heroic, like everybody else said he was? Or was he just… a coward? Somebody easily influenced by the quitting words of another?

He supposed that doing one more thing when he was told was okay, then. If only to figure this out.

He pressed the green button.

For a moment, the other end of the line was silent. Todoroki almost thought that Hans had left the call hanging because of his… not-so timely response.

"Hey." Hans's deep voice said through the speakers. Normally, as Hans spoke, this tone wouldn't exactly be at odds with his cynical expression, but now? Remembering Hans's rather… short and slim body?

There was a certain element of absurdism as he tried to reconcile the voice of what sounded like a vampire villain to a very short hero student that looked like a twelve year old.

Shaking those conspiratorial thoughts away, like theories about how Hans was secretly a reincarnated vampire, Todoroki refocused on his solemn mood.

"What did you call for."

"I called… to apologize." Hans said. "I feel like I should at least explain the words that I slung at you during the match."

"...That would be much appreciated. It's why I pressed the button."

"...What button?" Hans said. "Is there a metaphor or analogy that I missed within our brief conversation?"

"No. The green button. On the telephone app." Todoroki said helpfully. "You know, when you pick up a call?"

"Oh. That." Hans said. "Anyways, about what I said… do you remember, by the way? I do, but I'll be surprised if you really remembered a lecture mid battle. It was basically-"

"You telling me to give up heroism when I feasibly can if it's causing me more pain than good, along with another note about how I could use my powers better in other fields, such as creating water for the various drought infested areas of the Earth?"

"Well, that saves me a lot of trouble. And I'll save some words so I can explain this quickly. Basically, don't be too one sided on being a hero. It's a totally valid career, and if you think that it can give you self worth and fulfillment, then disregard my advice and continue with that. Honestly, it's silly to just give up your aspirations to be a hero just because of my speech, but once again, if it really does cost too much personally to keep being a hero, it's perfectly fine to quit and find some other way to both contribute to society and achieve self actualization."

"...My father thinks that being a hero is more about the status position than the actual helping, probably." Todoroki said sourly. "I was born… just to surpass All Might?"

"What do you mean?"

"...Eugenics, basically." Todoroki muttered.

"Oh." Hans said. The naming puns suddenly weren't as humorous. The last name that correlated with fire… and a first name that was literally the kanji for freeze.

Endeavor came from a family of fire quirks. Todoroki's mother? Presumably a family of ice quirks.

What kind of backdoor deal was made just for the pursuit of power?

"...Yeah, that's pretty fucked up. But, well, if you still want to fulfill your hero dream, don't let that stop you. We shouldn't be trapped because we were born with natural advantages that people use to pressure us into being a hero, but we also shouldn't be limited by our self doubt."

"To be perfectly honest… I don't know." Todoroki said. "I don't know what I want to do now. Being a hero with Endeavor constantly monitoring me just seems like hell, but if I quit now, I just feel like a coward. Like I'm turning my back on something that I've persisted on for years."

"...What you're feeling is either a genuine desire for being a hero, or just a sunk cost fallacy." Hans said. "But, that's what high school is for, right? Just exploring?"

"Yeah… I guess." Todoroki muttered.

For a moment, the phone call continued in perfect silence. Outside of Todoroki's window, a gentle wind tousled the shrubbery outside, making a gentle shhh.

"Well, I'll leave you with this quote." Hans said. "Back when I was, well, younger… I saw a girl that had been abandoned by her family. Society despised her. Her body was covered in scars. But every single day, she would wake up and try to bring joy to others. Despite not knowing what joy herself was, with her life thoroughly drenched in tragedy."

"And?"

"When I asked her about why she was still trying so hard… She smiled, and said: Life isn't painful. Life isn't hateful, either. And that's because…"

"Because what?" Todoroki said.

"... Because happiness will arrive someday."

Todoroki got up from his futon, and slowly trudged to the sliding door that separated his sanctuary from the large, traditional house that Endeavor roamed. The moonlight illuminated a central courtyard, where distant memories of his siblings, so much younger back then, playing soccer cheerfully, slowly echoed across the empty house.

"So, even if hope seems almost ephemeral, like an illusion, or a distant, passing warmth… Just remember that somewhere in your life, there is bound to be happiness. You probably just haven't gotten to it yet."

Leaning against the wall, Todoroki shut his eyes. A single drop of rain fell from the sky, and he prayed that one day, the rains could put out the fires burning away his home.

Slowly but surely, the rain began to pour.

…

EDIT: About the quote that Hans says to Todoroki: This comes from him talking in Fate/Extra, where he references the exact same quote in his fate backstory. It's not something that I made up.

I'll be brief here because my first authors note on top was so long.

Hopefully, Todoroki was shown pretty well. I got an impression that he honestly… didn't have much of a direction in canon, typical of people that have overly controlling parents. In canon, he got Midoriya as a role model (I think?) and proceeded to follow heroism and leave most of his character complexity behind, except for moments within the Endeavor redemption arc.

Here, he got no such clear direction, and Hans's advice only adds to his indecision about literally everything.

But that's what High School is for, right? To be indecisive.

(UA is a glorified vocational school lol)

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

Not-very-serious warning.

This chapter still contains extremely biased hero commentary written from a biased point of view without the true picture. If any BNHA fans that are blind fans of heroes still remain in the reader base of this fic, be warned. If any people that thought somewhere around ten minutes about how BNHA society is very messed up are still here, be warned of changing impressions in these upcoming chapters.

Obviously, this fic is all about different perspectives, and Hans… is a very limited, very biased lens to view this world from.

…All the more fun to write…

-SpiritOfErebus

What is a name?

Hans knew.

It was the symbol of your being. It may not be unique. It may repeat with countless figures in history, or even contemporaries. It may not be extravagant, but it would still mean a lot to you.

But whatever this is… it was not naming. It was trend riding.

Looking at the market analytics for hero names and what types garnered more attention, Hans gritted his teeth. This wasn't making a pen name for authorship, where the whole goal was to sell more books by making a more appealing and memorable name. It wasn't for a goal of secrecy or anonymity, like for secret agents or fictional vigilantes.

Ultimately, there was no purpose for hero names. It merely ingrained the old fantasies of said fictional vigilantes into the impressionable teenagers that would make these names part of their identity for the rest of their lives.

Or… well… the naming scheme created abominations such as Midnight.

Hans looked at the teacher distracting half the population of the class, before rolling his eyes. Being used to attacks like this from another pair of dangerous, fast, and unpredictable objects, Hans was immune to the promises of the tan-colored skinsuit. He was a virgin, and nobody would underestimate him.

But that woman was a walking censorship warning. Even Kiara, being the incarnation of lust that she was, walked around in a nun outfit. To be fair, Chaldea was filled with other more… suspicious female wear that looked like it came out of a Japanese lightnovel that Hans had read when planning his own money grabs by writing out EMIYA's story, but Hans suspected that it was because the mages that summoned the servants were closet perverts.

This… human? Person? Being with no social awareness? She walked around like an advertisement on a pirating website. And felt absolutely no shame.

There was no underlying cause for this. There was no possible explanation other than fanservice.

So, despite Hans marking the struggle of most as remarkable, as admirable and respectable to witness… this was clearly just a degradation of morality.

His summons, however, were not so perceptive to the socioeconomic implications of a marketable hero name. Instead, they were behaving like most sane people would: trying to have fun with the situation instead of going on tangents about inappropriate teachers in this crazy, wacky world.

"What name should we go with?" The Ice Queen said uncharacteristically,like she had walked straight out of a fairytale and was now interacting with the real world for the first time.

"I think Treeman sounds nice." The Elder Tree Mother said. "It's a very strong name. Very nice in tree culture."

"That… doesn't exist." The Ice Queen muttered.

The little mermaid burbled.

Hans didn't think that the Little Match Girl could speak.

As the summons whispered up a storm in his head, so too did his classmates. Whispering to each other, expressing various degrees of 'this is so cool', or 'this is the ultimate cool', or 'Ryonuske, I will fulfill my promise to you!'.

…Maybe not that last one. No gigantic squids would be summoned today in response to what they thought was the greatest cool.

But anyways, as Hans remained dead to the world, with Iida's glasses glinting ominously at him, he was filled with… dread.

He was vice president. Was Iida going to make him go first, or something? Would he have to present a hero name that fulfilled the assignment?

But then? Looking at himself, Hans shrugged.

His impression was already at rock bottom with most of his classmates. What more was a little embarrassment?

"You know what, guys?" Hans thought. "I'll go with whatever name you all come up with."

It wouldn't hurt to let his summons play for a bit.

Their tales were already tragedies, just like the girl that had given Hans life advice. The same advice that he had told Todoroki.

If Todoroki knew that girl committed suicide, what would he think?

Sometimes, it was better to not know. And just live in the now. To let his summons come up with whatever embarrassing entrance that they wanted to come up with.

…

The lights shut off.

Midnight looked on curiously as Hans stood behind what seemed like a curtain of wood that had sprouted from behind a potted plant. The lights were off, and everything was in pitch black, save for Midnight's laptop glowing with an incandescent light… and Tokoyami's emotional support flashlight.

Hans closed his eyes and shrugged behind the wooden curtain, just when fires abruptly sprang up in the corners of the room. From those fires, an ice covering branched out, casting flickering shadows all across the classroom.

While Aizawa adjusted his sleep mask, a deep, female voice began to echo.

"As the old saying goes, when the world doesn't go their way, the author turns to the pen."

Slowly, Hans felt his body ascend as the wooden growth beneath his feet slowly swelled upwards. Wooden branches tied themselves around his arms, forcing him to point towards the ceiling.

"But what if the world could truly be shifted by nothing but words?"

Swans appeared out of midair and flew across the room's ceiling silently, sending feathers cascading from the ceiling, only to disappear into blue sparks before they came close to any of the students. Two flames abruptly burst into existence beside the throne of trees as the formation deformed, the lump of wood beneath Hans's feet began to morph into what looked like books.

"In order to return fairytale innocence to this world, he picks up his pen, gatherers his notes, and announces himself to the world."

Hans looked at the miniature crystalline staircase that led down to the floor, made completely out of ice, and decided to humor his summons.

Slowly and daintily, he walked down the stairs, acting as if his shoes were not running shoes, but expensive, leather ones. As the throne of books dissipated and rippled into what seemed like the shadow of a castle, Hans stopped, summoned his blue tablet, and spoke.

"I am Hans Christian Andersen, the literary observer…"

Under Midnight's gaze, amidst the flamboyance, amidst the shattered crystal shards and the receding tree branches, he said that last word.

"...Hero."

For a moment, the class remained silent. Hans snapped his fingers, and all of the arbitrary constructs disappeared. The roots and the ice behind him exploded into a series of blue sparks that faded out almost immediately. The flames went into nonexistence, like the nonexistent fire alarms in the hero class rooms.

"...Are we supposed to clap, or something?" Kaminari said, breaking the silence. "I mean, that was impressive and all, but isn't it a bit unnecessary?"

"So, you did all of this just to go with your name as your hero name?" Midnight said, flipping on the light switch and raising an eyebrow.

Hans shrugged. "It's not just my name. It's also m-the name of a fairytale author that lived in the 19th century.

"I guess it does work with your particular quirk." Midnight said, her arms in a rather unfortunate thinker pose. It distorted the… orbs… on her body a little too much. "But I like the flashy introduction! This will be very helpful for your debut video in the future."

"Debut… video?" Hans muttered. "There's more of this?"

"Of course." Midnight said, snapping her whip. "Publicity is half of being a hero! And you all are just starting down that journey!"

…

Unsurprisingly, with the heavy lack of special effects for literally everyone else's name presentation, Hans's name was obviously the most memorable.

Ojiro's name sounded like it wouldn't see the light of day. Tailman. Tailman. Kirishima went for a homage to another hero, while Yaoyorozu went with a name that sounded like she ripped the word straight out of latin, but only just sounded like. It was actually more akin to a name to an amino acid.

But Hans honestly didn't care.

Those were just frivolous affairs.

Because there were two blades dangling above his head, threatening to drop at any moment.

The first one? His inevitable talk with Izuku Midoriya.

Perhaps, Midoriya's loss had been ordained to the plot. Perhaps it was something that advanced Midoriya instead of hindered him. Maybe his fight had inspired Midoriya in some way? Given him one or two more techniques or ideas for powerups?

But what mattered in this case, instead of the protagonist's powerups, was his ideals.

Undeniably, Hans's words had seeded doubt into Midoriya's heart. That doubt could prove fatal to the whole world.

And that would have to be resolved, lest more sacrifices be made on society's part when Midoriya was indecisive, or unable to act when the plot demanded him to.

But that… could wait. After all, what was coming up next was a controlled excursion into the crime-fighting experience. No student would be dragged into anything too crazy, right? Of course, crime didn't wait for anybody, but with how controlling the UA staff were about literally everything, from having walls around the school to both keep the outside out and the inside in… to mandating that his classmates change hero names on the whim of the one teacher that Hans didn't want to take fashion lessons from.

However, that was also the second sword of Damocles hanging over his head. The internships themselves.

Hans knew he was probably despised by the hero community. He went against basically everything they stood for, other than the part about not committing crimes and endangering the public.

…He may have committed a crime while defrauding UA out of common housing appliances when filing a costume order, but UA approved the form and said that those appliances were "applicable in combat", so was that even really fraud in the first place?

Anyways, the upcoming internships would be a struggle. Who knows whether or not some mysterious organization would try to do him in again when he participated in some form of civil service? Last time, he was attacked during his duty to testify.

He did not want to tempt fate this time.

…

Looking down at the sheet of paper in his hands, Hans… was confused.

No, this wasn't math homework.

This was the list of people that wanted him for an internship in the hero industry. It was very understandable that it was one, singular sheet of paper.

So, Hans looked down the list alphabetically to assess his very limited options. Obviously, the UA school-sponsored application was on top, being a 'U'. The hero whose life he had saved, Iceblade, sent him an offer… very reluctantly, Hans would have assumed.

And that should have been the entire list… if not for the fact that there was a name below Iceblade's offer.

It was incredibly confusing. There was no way that this was right.

"This has to be a mistake, right?" Hans whispered to Iida.

It wasn't because Iida was class president. It wasn't because Iida had passed out these sheets.

It was because the name on the list… was Ingenium.

…

"So, Tenya, do you recommend any other students from your year to intern with us?" Tensei said, thumbing his way through the forty students that were in the hero classes. Looking past an irate face, the face of a bird, and an oddly frog-like face, Ingenium quickly flipped back two pages to look at the crow-raven creature staring at him through the photo.

Was this actually a student, or just a mistake by UA? Upon further inspection, there was an entire quirk listing and an explanation for the feature, which mean that it was actually a student.

"There is no issue with this." Tensei thought, taking a sip of orange juice. "You've seen weirder."

"Well, brother, there is one person that I can think of which would need your aid in establishing a firmer understanding of the hero industry." Iida proclaimed, his arms flailing about robotically. It was always odd to Tensei, given the fact that he was the one with the arm-related engine quirk, not Iida.

"And who is this?" Tensei said, flipping through the papers and trying to identify potential mobility quirks. Maybe… this person with tape dispensers on his elbows?

"I believe you know of him already. He is Hans Christian Andersen, the vice president of our class!"

"...Oh… Him…" Tensei said.

Which hero didn't know about the kid that was dissing their whole career? About the court case that knocked Hawks's hero rank from three to five?

Looking at the slightly surly expression on the sheet of paper, Tensei considered the words of a teenager that were just lashing out.

He had requested financial aid to attend UA, according to the paperwork, and had saved a hero's life to get in. Which meant that this Hans Christian Andersen wasn't a bad person, just an unfortunate one. Given the amount of heroes out there that honestly were… a bit too engrossed in the celebrity life, there was no doubt that somebody of Andersen's background would not have a great outlook on the modern hero.

But maybe, if Tensei could show how a modern hero worked, well… maybe some of Andersen's extreme cynicism would be alleviated.

And if there were any problems with his agency, given what Tenya had been complaining about, this Anderson had a sharp enough tongue and an observant enough eye that Hans would be able to spot them anyways.

…

"You simply have to accept this opportunity!" Iida said, smiling broadly and staring into Hans's soul fervently. Taking a small step back, Hans looked at the person that seemed like he was double his height, was physically advantaged, and was over-enthusiastic with arm movements.

Narrowly dodging one swing, Hans's glasses almost suffered a critical existence failure as he tilted his head back, a finger missing his nose by less than an inch.

"Okay, okay. I'll take it." Hans sighed, raising a pen and signing a form, before quickly writing Ingenium on the mentor request form.

It would be interesting to see things from a different lens.

…

Late at night, when her creator fell asleep, the little mermaid slipped out of his consciousness and floated away into the night.

Despite the fact that she could not speak, she was more powerful than the others. She had fame. She came with her own mana source.

In other words, she was secretly… independent.

Hans didn't know that. Hans didn't need to know that. All he needed to know was that the little mermaid was capable of moving further away than the other summons, minus the ducks, of course.

What Hans also didn't need to know was that… there was something festering inside of the little mermaid. A blob of black energy that threatened to overtake her every day.

What was it caused by? Her limited mind couldn't exactly comprehend it. She was a summon, not an intellectual. Her decisions were not mandated by rationality in her story, anyways, so could she even comprehend these thoughts?

Ultimately, the little mermaid needed fixing.

And Hans was completely ignorant to it. After all, he wasn't a very good mage, despite everything else he was trying to do.

She had chanced upon her the first time the corruption came to root upon her, changing her scales from green to dark blue, and increasing her bestial features until she was slowly growing to be more akin to a siren than a mermaid.

She was crying. Bandages were constantly wrapped around her arms, and a single horn that jutted out at a weird angle from her forehead almost made her seem like a fairytale character.

Her situation? She was entombed in a concrete bunker underground, while a mad scientist used her DNA to perform terrible experiments.

It almost sounded like science fiction, but it was, indeed, happening.

But the little mermaid could sense something that she needed within the broken girl. For there was a power that could eliminate the corruption at its root.

Rewind. The power to wind a living being's body back to a previous state. Neither of the parties involved knew what was involved in the process, however, and quirks were never tested by mysteries from the other side of the world.

Because it certainly did not work on concepts. The little mermaid, being a crystallized conceptualization of a tale, was immune to the quirk. What wasn't immune was the cursed aberration living inside of the little mermaid.

The fish had swam through the earth and arrived at its savior's side with a whimper and a wail, struggling with the foreign invasion. And with the glowing white power of her quirk, the child saved what seemed to be just another animal to her extremely sheltered mind.

But no matter how impossibly, though one spoke Japanese, and the other only murmured, they had begun to communicate.

There was a lot of time to learn what mermaids spoke when you did nothing but sit in a white room all day.

…

"Eri." Chisaki said raspily, pushing open the door into a pitch dark room.

Quickly, the child turned in her covers, sat up, and looked at the man in a bird beak mask.

"Soon, you'll be moved to a different room, in a larger district." Chisaki said, before raising an eyebrow.

The child didn't look… sad. Instead, they looked scared? Not that the kid wasn't scared normally, but she usually was only scared when they were obtaining her DNA.

A light switch was flipped. An incredibly bare room was revealed, with no corners and no furniture to hide anything. The sheets were replaced daily and the mattress was reconstructed by Chisaki himself to make sure no implements of self-harm would make it into the room.

Chisaki walked towards the bed, which was really just a mattress on the ground, only to see a patch suspiciously similar to tears staining the white sheets.

But the child didn't look like she had been crying. Her eyes weren't red at all.

…Maybe she had learned to use her quirk on herself?

"Don't use your quirk anymore, Eri." Chisaki said. "Remember, it is a curse. It only brings pain and misery to others. Think about… what happened to your parents."

The girl nodded dully.

Slowly, Chisaki backed out of the room and closed the doors.

They would be moving to a new district. the district where labor strikes had destroyed a local mafia group.

…That would give them more of a population to test phase two on.

The drug was almost ready. And Eri… had to be ready.

…

Within the pitch black darkness of the room, a rainbow emerged from Eri's hands. The little mermaid sat in the palm of her hand, spraying out a damp mist of water and using what control over her own glistening she had to show what her summoner had been doing that day.

Eri's eyes had glinted, focused, and observed as Hans Christian Andersen complained about things, wrote his novels, fought in the sports festival, and battled villains in the court.

She looked at the screen, looked at the fantastical tales completely foreign to her, and thought…

Could she ever live like that?

…

AN: The next arc begins. Only time will tell what Eri does now…

BTW: Fate Lore explanations because everybody will ask.

Q: Hans is cursed too, right? Why isn't he feeling the corruption?

Hans is a non-canonical being in the BNHA universe, so, like EMIYA, he heavily resists corruption. He is, however, influenced by fame bonuses, as are his creations.

Q: Then why are his creations influenced? Aren't they non-canonical too?

Hans's creations have many varied interpretations. There is no concrete answer as to "what is the little mermaid". Just look at the remakes lol. Different generations and people will have a different impression of the little mermaid, making their form difficult to nail down. As a story that also exists in the BNHA universe, the little mermaid thus can also be influenced by external factors such as fame and, in this case, Kiara's curses and smearing campaign.

Q: Why hasn't Hans noticed?

We can view their relationship as one like Sakatmoto Ryoma and Oryou. Just like those two, Hans and all his summons are theoretically partners, since we don't get any other explanations for them in fate lore, I think. My interpretation of them will show that It's just that his partners source their mana from his spirit origin, and that they're weak without Hans's influence. The Little Mermaid, being more famous (along with the little match girl), has more mana from their own fame bonus and thus can move around more independently.

Discord link: discord . gg / s2uFUydRVd

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

Between course registration and everything like that (waitlisted on 3 courses despite registering on the dot, yay), I bring you… this.

-SpiritOfErebus

…

Hans felt tired.

It wasn't anything that was particularly troubling. Sure, he probably did forget something that he had promised to a trio of idiots, but it didn't matter that much. They hadn't brought it up within the week of them interacting within UA and it was fine…

Right?

Anyways, on this Monday, the problem wasn't society. It wasn't the irritation of whatever political complaints he normally had targeted towards the hero system. It wasn't even the half broken vending machine this time.

No. It was the time.

It was five thirty in the morning.

As the old man that manned the convenience store (and by 'manned', Hans meant sleep in the store in order to earn a pitiful hourly wage) woke up to him opening the slightly grimy glass doors to the establishment, the newspaper over his face jostled by a startled, cut off snore, Hans grabbed a bag of coffee beans and placed it on the counter.

"I'm pretty sure it's illegal for a person of your age to be buying coffee or something."
Hans slid his hand off of the bag of cheap, probably fake coffee beans. His UA student ID slid off of the plastic-like paper bagging and clattered onto the countertop, which was only clean because the teenagers in the afternoon shifts liked to play cards on the glassy surface.

"It's not illegal." Hans said, "Just not recommended. And I am in high school, just so you know."

The old man drowsily rubbed at the corner of his eyes and looked at the student ID.

"Now, how do you scan this thing again? Nobody has ever come to buy something during my shift."

"Seriously?" Hans said, "How do you still have a job?"

"I buy something myself at a period that no sane person would." The man shrugged. "When it approaches the end of my shift, I wake up ten minutes early and buy breakfast. I get all of the stuff that has just theoretically expired for cheap, and the store has a consistent customer within this time period, so I'll still be needed."

"And if the store owners only get one customer in these hours, why don't they just shut down?"

"Son," the old man smirked, " they run a twenty four hour business. If I sue them for false advertising, who do you think will win the case? An old man waking up at five fifty every day to get to his job, or a big corporation? With the power of social media, and cancel culture as it is, there's no conceivable way that I can lose."

"Why don't you?" Hans asked, partly genuinely annoyed that everything had a public relations angle and partly because he was actually curious.

"Too much effort." The old man shrugged. "I'm too old for this crap. Getting free money off of a loophole is already entertaining enough for me that I'll keep at it until I die of heart failure or something. Besides…"

"...What?" Hans asked.

"In Japan, reputation is everything. How you actually act doesn't exactly matter as long as other people think you look good."

…

The six-o-clock train was already surprisingly full.

With his hero costume-like lab coat in his backpack, along with an empty tupperware container (Iida had guaranteed that there would be free lunch at the agency), Hans was crammed into train carts with the rest of the people that couldn't afford lodging next to their workplaces. Additionally, because many companies expected their salarymen to arrive thirty minutes early as "proper etiquette", the already early start times for their jobs would only continue to stress their sleep schedule even more.

"...At least heroism has flexible hours." Hans muttered, staring at an ad for a hair lotion advertised by what looked like a hero with snakes for hair. What was the point of using hair lotion if your hair was snakes? Wouldn't the snakes accidentally swallow soap and get indigestion or get poisoned or something?

It was probably for the best that for once, Hans didn't think as much.

The seats on the subway were… mildly uncomfortable, to say the least. Not to mention that the plastic was probably never cleaned, his shorter legs meant that …

But at least he didn't have to worry about getting kidnapped. Even criminals didn't work this early.

…They usually worked in the hours when everybody was sleeping.

Villains, on the other hand, were a different story. As Hans scrolled through the patrol routes of Ingenium that Iida had sent to him as a part of a 1-gigabyte file of "getting ready to learn how a proper hero works", he noticed that they were all through the most crowded and populated streets, where small storefronts and the occasional corporate building was.

Then, out of curiosity, he looked up Ingenium's arrest statistics.

…Why were so many people committing crimes in broad daylight?

Again, Hans supposed that was the difference between a villain and a criminal. Not just the difference between quirk usage (and honestly, criminals sneaky enough not to get caught also wouldn't get caught using their quirk), but also the mentality.

There was… something genuinely wrong with villains. They actually wanted to fight the heroes, even though they were mindful of the incredible amount of heroes that patrolled the streets as a part of Japan's oversaturation. Heroes, on the other hand, mostly just waited for villains to show up. They walked their very predictable routes and expected to run into villains in the near vicinity.

This was… a rather strange dynamic.

However, with heroes on almost every street in major cities, why was there still crime? Why were there so many members of the Yakuza? Why were there still so many cases of disappearances and theft?

Thus, a simple conclusion was reached.

Heroism did not solve crime. Heroism was never aimed at reducing crime in the first place.

…It was a solution to-

"We are now arriving at… Hosu station." the train announcer said in an insufferably polite voice that incited absolutely no emotion in any of the frequent riders. Hans was jostled from his thoughts by the salaryman in an incredibly wrinkled suit standing up, futilely straightening out his tie, and walking out of the door.

Hans looked at the light indicators again, before reading the words again.

Hosu station.

Yep, he was here.

Hans sighed, shut off his phone, and squeezed off the train. Looking down from the elevated platform that Hosu Metro Station was on and down at the city that would probably be a source of constant suffering for him during the next week.

"Well, we best get this over with." he sighed.

…

Interlude: What else has been going on?

…

(A month and a couple weeks ago from the internship, with the homeless people)

Starting a protection racket was a difficult business, even with muscle-brained construction workers under your "employ".

Technically, the former homeless people weren't actually paying them with anything, being just as broke as they were, but with the fake business (the Stationary Distribution Company), they could mandate company field trips and set all of their professions to hired guards constantly on alert during "company field trips".

…Legal loopholes were weird like that.

Anyways, the homeless people from a couple chapters ago that nobody really cared about were… having a difficulty getting customers for their protection racket.

Normally, there would probably be a bunch of customers that were forced into accepting the deal with violent threats, but they pledged they'd be different.

"Remember, everyone!" a blindfolded woman, Yuki, said from beside a printer. The quality of paper for their fliers had gone down from the plain white to the newspaper fodder, given a lack of funds and sales for their supposed company.

"We're trying to be different from everyone else. Do not forget the ideals of the one that inspired us!"

"...What were his ideals again?" Hasanote muttered, her scissor-tipped fingers clicking against a sewing needle as she continued to try and make some more SDC flags. Supposedly, the flags were just merchandise from the Stationary Distribution Company, but given the fact that they neither had nor sold any substantial quantity of stationary, it was really just a marker to which buildings they had to protect when the inhabitants fly their flags from the porches.

"I don't know… Something about how quirk laws are stupid and that people shouldn't be down on people just because of their inconvenient quirks?"

"Exactly!" Yuki said. "And because he's a hero student and firmly against crime, all of our activities will be strictly legal!"

"...What about the guys we replaced? That we lead that 'violent' labor strike against?" Shihiro said, sitting as far away from the paper as humanly possible. His skin, made of molten lava, was still warm enough to turn the low quality paper they were using into smithereens.

"They were a labor union that was technically legal but actually threatened people into continuing their employment, or signing unreasonably long, underpaid contracts." Yuki said.

"...And those same people that were once subjugated by the mob are now working for us." Shihiro muttered. "How Ironic."

"But I guess we'll just keep struggling until-"

The door slammed open.

"Who's up for selling some pens?" Tsukanai said, two packages stacked in one hand and foot extended in the air. Somehow, he had performed a perfect roundhouse kick despite being in a cramped stairway up to an apartment.

"You fucking idiot, Tsukanai!" Hasanote said, slamming her hand into the table and standing up, her fingertips getting stuck in the low-quality wood. "If you break that damn door, we're paying for it."

"We're also paying for that table, violent bitch!" Tsukanai retorted, motioning with his eyes towards the table.

"Well, if we're paying for the table, then there's nothing stopping me from… doing this!" she said, grinning and stabbing both hands into the table, before lifting it up with only her fingertips.

As the table swung through the small apartment like a hammer, the duo of ice and fire continued to interact.

"...I guess we can keep doing that until some other gang moves into this vacated territory." Yuki said, looking through her blindfold at the chibi version of the blue-haired boy they had made their company mascot. A speck of frost blossomed on said face, but she was quick to brush it off.

"...Yeah." Shihiro muttered, a spark flying from his face and almost setting the cardboard boxes on fire.

From the custom-ordered pens, the child winking and making a thumbs up on the deep blue surface almost seemed to ask a question.

Where the fuck are my royalties?

…

The stationary business was going moderately well.

Well, it only really was going moderately well because of the flags that each of the… coerced… apartment buildings bought. The inhabitants then organized to hang them from the very small porch that the second floor inhabitant seldom accessed, given the fact that the porches in these slightly run-down apartments were probably not exactly the most stable.

With a chibi face on a blue background waving in the wind also came the former construction workers squatting in front of the building and carrying a stack of flyers. Each one was sufficiently muscular, either quirk-induced or labor-induced, to be intimidating enough that the rascals which normally roamed the streets were discouraged from harassing the inhabitants on the first floor… or the apartment managers.

On the streets, Yuki sat on a ledge, some of the scraps of printing paper before her. On top of what could barely even be called a sheet of paper, the various stationary that they had custom-ordered sat, the plastic and the printed images slowly roasting in the bright sunlight.

There was a reason why Yuki was chosen. With her blindfold untied, her gaze was able to slowly frost over the various pieces of stationary, thus maintaining a temperature balance.

"...Honestly…" she muttered, "I could probably find selling popsicles as a career."

Gently, a breeze flowed by. Leaves left behind from last year's fall, surviving winter's frost, spring's cycles, and the street sweeper's diligence, emerged from the bushes they were hiding in. Reluctantly dragged out by the rustle of the wind and their feeble positions, desperately clinging onto the branches that once concealed them, they rustled and rattled as their surfaces, once green and lively, now cracked and disintegrated as their brown shattered against the pavement.

This neighborhood was a bad neighborhood. It was always a bad neighborhood.

As somebody from a solidly middle class family, Yuki had never imagined that she would be sitting on the ground like this, selling stationary… of all things. Her parents had scared her into studying hard when she had been a child by comparing her to the people that were homeless and sold oranges.

She had once thought that it was a faraway, improbable fantasy.

But now? Sitting on the streets? Bypassing her natural shyness and sitting on the pavement, slowly tanning from the late spring sun… just to support her group's failing, barely legal business?

And all of this… just because her quirk slowly froze everything she looked at.

Tightening her blindfold, she could see the truth now, clearer than ever. Maybe her life back then was a faraway, improbable fantasy.

Once, she was happy.

Once.

…

Suddenly, many blue flags were sold. Suddenly, many construction workers were given flyers and told to stand in front of buildings.

The business was booming. Their people were milling in front of the small block that they now called their home.

Yuki's stand was now bustling with activity. Not with customers, but with internal communications. The former construction workers would gather on their breaks, find another person to replace their shift, and then furiously chow down on the boxed lunches that were of… less reputable… sources, but were healthy enough not to cause digestion issues.

"Why the sudden influx?" she muttered.

Wearing a pair of gloves wrapped in aluminum foil, Shihiro flipped through the papers clumsily, his molten rock-like skin and stony joints creaking as they attempted to move rapidly while not burning the papers.

"According to the very sloppily recorded notes sent back to us from… the crew…" he muttered. "There's some sort of other gang trying to move into this territory."

"And?"

"...We've been designated another gang, and thus they've been attempting to attack our supposed territory. After being harassed, the apartments independently contracted our services."

"So, we're in a gang war."

"Yes."

"...God damn it." Yuki shouted. "We've… we've fucked up. By stopping a gang, we've become a gang."

"Cursing?" Shihiro said. "That's very uncharacteristic of you."

"This isn't right." Yuki said, standing up and pacing. "This isn't what I wanted. This isn't what he would have wanted."

Within her grip, the face of the chibified student slowly bent as her grip tightened around the cheap plastic.

"...We just have to be better than them." Shihiro said quietly.

"What?" Yuki said, rounding on him.

"It's like competition in the workplace." Shihiro said. "The last gang failed because they were just mercilessly exploiting the people within. If we can appeal to the people who pay us, who are the people living in this block, by defending them for a reasonable and fair price, then we can outcompete this other gang. Eventually, they'd leave."

"But they're an actual gang." Yuki said. "We're just… homeless people and construction workers."

"Don't look down on us, Yuki-chan!" one of thee construction workers grinned, showing one missing tooth. "We're tough! We can take care of ourselves!"

"And what if somebody dies?"

The whole stand fell silent. The people bustling around and chatting with each other, trying to drag each other to cover shifts fell silent. Slowly, they turned to the short, white-haired, blindfolded woman standing and pointing at a rock shaped and clothed like a human.

Despite the strangely comedic circumstances that a spectator would see if they walked past the group at this very moment, the air of seriousness even spread to the people scarfing down their boxed lunches. Their chopsticks slowed in motion as they tried to chew as silently as possible, listening in on their plans for the future.

There was silence for a moment.

Everything was quiet.

Because at its root, the Self Defense Company was only a dream. An ideal dream, existent only in the participant's minds. It was of a dream where none of the would be oppressed or taken advantage of, where they could work and receive their due rewards.

It was where they felt like they were doing something useful.

But at the same time, the dream would be ruptured by the needles of reality. There would be conflict. There would be injuries. There would be death. This would be no bloodless conflict.\

Like it or not, they had entered the fray.

Now, do they stay, or do they leave?

Amidst the fields of silence, Shihiro stood up. Slowly, his stony skin scraped scornfully against the surfaces of his body.

"...I've been rejected from countless jobs." he said. "I've been chasing a dream, an ideal, where I could just work and be paid… for too long. This is my final struggle. I've used up my credit score. I've pawned off even my interview suit to help pay for the stationary and the food when this was beginning."

"...And?" Yuki asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm not going to run away anymore." Shihiro said. "This will be the hill that I die on. I'm not stopping anybody from leaving, but I'm tired of opportunities leaving me behind."

"...And you all?" Yuki asked, her blindfolded head turning to look at the former construction workers.

"Well," one of them spoke. "Our lives can't really get any worse, right?"

…

(A week from the internship)

…

Hidden in the bushes of the small courtyards separating each individual apartment building… were stray cats.

Orange. Black. Multi-colored. Each little, fuzzy creature hid in the bushes, only approaching the set, plastic food trays that the already impoverished inhabitants of the buildings still lay out, if only for the comfort of seeing the cats on their way to and from work.

Every day, the bolder of the cats would circle around their feets, meowing and looking up to beg for more and more food, their skinny frames longing for nourishment.

That, however, was changed by the existence of a muscle-bound, flier passing, former construction worker.

The hulking figure squatting on the steps, along with the slightly grey, rough skin that bound the man, made him look more like a gargoyle than a human. However, to the cats, with him free of any reptilian facial features, he was just another human. Another very large, quiet human.

These weeks, the giant was a constant presence in front of the building. The fliers frequently lay on the floor, forgotten, as he tenuously reached out to the cats in the bushes. And only under the lure of fired pork and oily meats did the orange cats first slowly approach. Then the black cats. And, only after the other varieties of cats comfortably circled and nudged the giant, did the tabby cat, which blended in with the dead leaves and the ground, approach.

It was a peaceful existence.

Petty thugs were threatened by the mere existence of the man. At nighttime, any thieves were discouraged by the red and yellow eyes shining in the darkness, staring at them unblinkingly.

…That last part of the defense was contributed by the cats.

Eating the plain, white rice while distributing the precious few nuggets of meat to the animals, the giant felt like this was the best he had ever lived.

He was never one to speak much. He was never one to throw his bulk around. After all, he was strong, but compared to those with absolutely bullshit quirks?

He was just another mook.

And now, looking down the barrel of a gun, staring at a silver-haired man with tiny blades protruding from his arms, he knew that he would die just like another mook. He would disappear, like the rest of his class did after middle school when they couldn't test into a high school. Just like he did, when he forsook his study time to try and feed himself and his voracious appetite alone.

"...So it begins." he muttered.

Would this be the hill that he died on? It was like Shihiro had said. He was tired of running too, tired of dreaming for better days and receiving nothing.

He would be the first to fall in this conflict, no... this gang war.

"Yeah, the boss wants you all dead." the silver-haired man said. "No hard feelings."

A single bang rang out in the middle of the day. Slowly, he fell to the ground, almost in a haze, before feeling two more bullets sink into his ribcage and abdomen like spoons cutting through jell-o, making sure he was dead.

As a bloodstained bird beak mask was thrown at his feet, a symbol of a war between factions, the giant chose instead to look towards the bushes.

"Goodbye… Orengi." he whispered, his hand, roughened by years of back-breaking labor and holding tools, reaching out for the silkiness of fluffy animals one last time.

The orange cat, the first one to approach him and the scent of food, walked out of the bushes, peering around for any enemies, before lowering its nose and sniffing at the man's fingers, before rubbing its cheek against them.

One last time.

The last time.

…

(Monday, Meta Liberation Army)

…

Geten… was a bit disgruntled.

It wasn't because their plans weren't going well. It wasn't because his training had been stalled. Both thigns were proceeding extremely quickly, and though the Meta Liberation Army had been silenced on many occasions in history, now?

They were simply too big to fail. Too ubiquitous to write out of the internet.

Thus, they were allowed to persist, though protested and stalled by the hero association at every turn.

However, this came at a cost. This wide scale, undeniable spread of his beliefs… came at a great cost indeed.

It was his own usefulness.

Geten's fingers twitched, and out of the air, a small, crystalline object fell. Catching it, he noticed that the gem he was trying to form was missing a surface.

"Tch." he muttered, flicking the construct away and allowing it to disperse into mist. He wasn't as strong as he wanted to be.

The future in his dream, the future of meta abilities determining your status… also was in danger. And it wasn't because he wasn't strong enough.

It was because their platform had changed.

"What are the organizers doing?" Rikiya Yotsubashi said into the phone. "I thought a protest would be happening today, right over there. I thought that we had an agreement, Hanabata!"

There was some muttering on the other side of the phone.

"Yes, I know that what you're doing is a political protest, which is of a slightly different nature. But why the delay? Our series of protests, to show Japan that the fire of awareness is spreading, cannot be slowed down by you! By then, media portrayals will change! The heat after the UA sports festival will fade!"

And there was this… protest-mongering. Geten had participated in the first one, right outside of UA's doors after the boss had encountered a strange, blue-haired child on the streets, using his meta ability in plain sight. He had thought nothing of it. It was just another way of getting their message out there. Soon enough, they would return to their old ways. Scuttling in the dark, preparing their forces, readying the overthrow of-

"Geten."

His head snapped up.

"Re-Destro sama." he said, bowing his head.

"You wanted to see me?" the hooked-nose businessman said, smiling easily. His teal-and-black striped suit was ironed to perfection as he turned to look out the tower.

"Yes. I wanted to… ask as to my degree of involvement within the army."

"What do you mean?" Re-Destro asked.

"I… I don't feel like I'm living up to your expectations. I don't feel useful anymore."

"Nonsense." Re-Destro said. "You are one of the most valuable members in the Meta Liberation Army. Nothing can change that."

"But what if… the Meta Liberation Army is changing?"

"What do you mean?" Re-Destro asked. "Come, let us sit down and talk."

Slowly, the thick-coated man was led to a velvet couch. Gently, he sat down, not wanting to disturb his leader's residence.

"Well?" Re-Destro said, pushing a cup of tea towards him. "Here, have some tea, as well. I find it helpful with the stress."

"Re-Destro sama!" Geten gasped. "But your meta ability! Does it not gather strength from stress?"

"There are other means of strength, Geten." Re-Destro said. "Gathering supporters, gaining popular opinion, is that not another method of strength? I grew in power when you joined me, didn't I?"

"But that's all I'm good for." Geten muttered. "I'm just a combatant. A fighter. I won't have a place now, within all of this-"

"You will." Re-Destro said.

"The format is changing." Geten sighed. "Our battles have shifted. I no longer believe that-"

"Take a look." Re-Destro said. "I was drafting this up, but I feel like you can have a look at this. After all, I'll be putting you in charge of this program."

Geten opened the black folder, feeling the printed pages rub through his fingers.

Then, he promptly dropped it.

"The… the Self Defense Cooperative… Disguised as the Stationary Distribution Company… Which mastermind created such an organization?"

"Nobody." Re-Destro said, grinning. "The creation of such an organization was not prompted by anything… save, this. A protest by us from two months ago, where a bystander, who was also a short, blue-haired, UA student… came and spoke up for us."

"And what must I do to aid the growth of this… company?" Geten said.

"Their movement is still young. I know not of how successful they will be, but I know how successful we can be if we take advantage of the same legal loophole that they have. It's still miraculous to think about. To think that we, of all people, overlooked this possibility."

"What?" Geten asked, leaning forwards and whispering.

"What if we could legalize our army? Turn them into bodyguards for our employees, which are somehow always on field trips, on which we are responsible for their safety?"

"And-And would I-"

"You, Geten…" Re-Destro said, smiling widely, "Would be at the forefront of this effort."

…

(Sunday, one day before internships, League of Villains hideout)

…

"...Stain still hasn't shown up." Shigaraki muttered. "I'm just so… so… so bored… I even prepared a photo dossier of the people I hate for him."

Kurogiri's yellow eyes floated up within his misty body to look at him from the bar he was manning pointlessly.

"Perhaps he has already found allegiance."

"In who?" Shigaraki said, spreading his arms wide. "We're the only faction in this server that-"

"The Meta Liberation Army has resurfaced." Kurogiri said dryly. "Along with countless other groups like it. Political groups advocating for repealing quirk laws. The court case of that villain that defected from us. People are rewatching footage of when that UA student walked up on a protest and gave a speech. Stain may have been distracted by those other causes and forgotten about us, the people that ironically got the least coverage by the media despite having started everything by attacking the USJ."

"Damn that brat!" Shigaraki hissed. "First, making me dance at the USJ, then making me dance at the USJ, and then… then… that miniboss really, really needs to die."

"The hero association is moving his internship with Ingenium somewhere rife with gang activity." Kurogiri reported.

"And how do you know this? What sidequest did you complete to get that information?"

"...We do have a spy in class 1-A."

"Oh, right. That NPC." Shigaraki said. "...And I suppose, that with no allies, we probably should… just do nothing?"

"Master has planned to save the Nomu for a surprise attack at a later date." Kurogiri said. "But for now, he says that you must observe your opponents."

"Damn…" Shigaraki muttered, irritating his neck further.

"But don't worry." Kurogiri said. "The gangs moving on each other are… very interesting… and Chisaki is a formidable opponent. The hero association is trying to make sure that none of them return alive."

"Heh. It's just like the hero commission to do something like this. They're always in the background of every plotline."

For a moment, Shigaraki looked at a black screen embedded on the wall. His sensei did not respond.

"Why do they want Ingenium out, anyways?" Shigaraki said.

"They're driven by familial tradition." Kurogiri said, taking a glass and beginning to wipe it down. "Heroism should be available for any opportunistic fool, not just the ones that come from hero families. For them, it sends the wrong message."

The glass was gently put on the counter, and Shigaraki grinned at his horrid reflection.

"Heh… it's just like them to not actually care."

AN

I suffer. Writing this chapter was suffering. BNHA already has a side character problem, and for me to, well, try and advance the plot with more extra characters I've made without it seeming boring (well, at least for the test readers on my discord) kinda difficult. The writing took a while.

Anyways, how's everybody doing?

Discord link: discord . gg / s2uFUydRVd

we are desperate for new members

Chapter Text

I've got about one week before college starts. About. I haven't memorized the date… probably an oversight on my part.

All numbers and statistics about Japanese heroism are speculations, and will be explained. Don't skip the AN at the end. It gives very valuable context.

-SpiritOfErebus

"Come on now, Hans." the Ice Queen said, her cold fingers dancing across his shoulders. "You have to be presentable. It's your first day on the job."

"Why are your clothes so wrinkled?" the Elder Tree Mother muttered, using some branches to tug on Hans's slacks, trying to straighten out the edges. "Even trees have to grow good leaves in our mythical tree culture. Do you even care about your appearance?"

"What does it look like?" Hans said, his brow wrinkling. "I'm the guy that spent most of his days drunk and reviewing beers when I wasn't out traveling the world. Though that was most Danes when I really think about it."

"That's then." the Ice Queen said, shaking her head. "Who knows what popular opinion has done to your personality and spirit origin. You weren't this cynical when you were alive, either."

"Well, writing bad endings certainly gave people one type of view." Hans said, slapping the little match girl's hands away before straightening his bowtie himself. The child would probably either only mess it up with her jumping… or set it on fire.

As the small girl pouted and looked up at him with big, watery eyes, Hans spotted… him.

With his tall, yet relatively slim figure, along with the very distinctive, rigid posture, he was easily recognizable. He turned a sharp ninety degree angle, the eye slits in his armor almost lighting up as his already straight posture perked up even more.

Then, the armored teenager began to clank towards Hans, each exuberant footsteps reverberating in the alleyway that Hans was straightening up in.

"Andersen-san!" Iida exclaimed, stopping to reach up with both hands and removing his helmet, revealing his brightly smiling face. Hans sighed as he ruffled the little match girl's hair before walking forwards, his height only really meeting the bottom of Iida's chestplate, before his eyes looked straight at the turbines that wound around Iida's abdomen purely for aesthetics. "I see that you have arrived early! Just as I expected of the vice president."

"...God damn it." Hans thought, shaking his head.

"I cannot wait for this five-day period of our work together to take place!" Iida said seriously, his glasses shining in the bright, 8 A.M. sun. "Have you read over the material that I have sent over detailing patrol routes and the quirk profiles of the other various members on team Idaten?"

"...I skimmed through it." Hans said. "Your brother… he also has an engine quirk, right?"

"Correct!" Iida said. "Clearly, you have a definite understanding of my brother, along with his team. As future heroes, we must understand the heroes surrounding us and our patrol routes intimately. I, for one, have memorized the types of stores and fire hydrant locations along our patrol route in the Hosu area! Of course, having been familiar with this province before, I have a considerable advantage on your familiarity given the time you had to acclimate to this environment, so if you have any questions, feel free to ask me!"

"Come to think of it," Hans asked, "Why do heroes have patrol routes in the first place? Isn't it better to be less predictable, so the villains won't be able to predict you at all? And also, why were the patrol times only during the day?"

"During the night…" Iida pondered. "While we do not wander outside of the agency, there are a plethora of underground heroes that tend to operate near the twilight hours in addition to their ordinary routes, but that is some part of specifics that I shall have to look into!"

"And don't most criminals operate at night?" Hans asked. "For maximum efficiency, shouldn't patrols occur near the twilight hours, or just through the entire night?"

"I-" Iida began.

"And that's a very good question." another voice said. "You're Andersen Hans, right?"

"Hans Christian Andersen." Hans said, turning to face the taller Iida. "I'm a foreigner, if the name alone was too subtle for you."

Hans looked up. And up. And craned his neck at an uncomfortable angle to finally see the top of the newcommer's head. Theoretically, he wasn't that much taller than Iida, but since Hans didn't exactly feel the need to look Iida in the face anymore due to constant exposure, it did not concern him normally.

The person who spoke looked almost identical to Iida, though his features were a lot less angular, and the absence of a pair of square-framed glasses gave him a much more casual look. What was undoubtedly Iida's brother also wasn't wearing any armor, instead carrying a box filled with supplies to what looked like to be a moving truck.

"Of course, I could give some more hints if you really need them. I'm not yet familiar with your particular brand of stupidity, so forgive me if I'm a bit too subtle for you."

"I see. Well I might just take you up on that." Tensei Iida said, a small amused grin on his lips. "Anyways, as to your question… Most crimes that occur during the night are not heavily involved with villainy, meaning that the police should be able to confidently respond to the threats."

"And how effective are they at their jobs?" Hans asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. Iida looked shocked at Hans talking back against his older brother and, temporary though it may be, superior. Hans, however, continued on unphased, as if he did this every day.

And to be fair, he basically did.

"Villains that perform at day, and yes, I mean the word perform, have very different goals compared to villains that operate at night. Any smart villain with a sustainable career in mind would keep their thefts and other operations out of the public eye. And if smarter villains operate at night, how does a reduced hero presence make any sense?"

"...Police records on their success rate are not visible to us Pro Heroes." Tensei countered, furrowing his brow. "And, on occasion, they do team up with underground heroes or local agencies to attempt to arrest the villains. But I do not know the success rate."

"So… why the nonsense with the patrol routes?" Hans asked, waving around a map with many, many squiggly lines in his phone. "What's the point of all this if you're not being the most efficient at what you're supposed to do, which is to fight crime?"

"...Your friend asks very difficult questions, Tenya." Tensei chuckled, the box of metallic objects rattling in his arms. "And as for an answer, I'll have to say… it is all about appearance. If we show that we've been able to turn heroing into just a business, a lot of villains will be discouraged from engaging in dangerous activities during the day, which prevents many hostage situations and loss of lives during the process of crime fighting. Really, it's a strategic realignment of crime such that risk to the public is minimized."

"But as you heroes stick to the day, truly smart supervillains perform human experimentations and develop creatures like the captured USJ Nomu." Hans crossed his arms. "And wouldn't police patrols have the same effect? Why do most heroes exclusively operate during the day, then?"

"You've already breached into one of the darker areas in the hero business." Tensei sighed. "Well, we can talk about this later. I legitimately promise. But for now? We're moving the agency."

Iida dropped his helmet. The metal, instead of deforming upon impact like any soda-can like object would, chipped the asphalt as the advanced metals refused to yield.

"Why, nii-san?" Iida rasped. "What's happened?"

"I didn't tell you two because I didn't want you all to be too stressed out and over-prepare." Tensei laughed easily. "We're temporarily going over to the Yamanashi prefecture for this month to sort out a gang war before another agency moves in. It'll just be me and Enigma going over with you two while the others hold the turf here."

"...I have… truly shamed myself…" Iida wept. "How could I have not asked about your plans this week? I'm sorry, Andersen-san! I have failed us both!"

"What did you do?" Tensei sighed, exasperated. "Did Tenya send you the two gigabyte file I usually give to sidekicks about our Hosu patrol routes?"

Hans nodded, a deadpan look on his face.

"Wait, Yamanashi?" Hans thought. "Isn't that where my house is?"

…

After Hans spent 260 yen in the morning for his subway fare, he was now crammed into a van with various other boxes, a suit of armor, and what looked like a life-sized stuffed doll.

Being sat next to said doll in the middle seat, besides Iida's still-armored form… Hans felt something disconcerting. Like something… was staring at his soul.

He looked at the rearview mirror, but Ingenium's eyes were firmly locked on the road like a good citizen. He looked at Iida, seated on his right, but he was still.

Hans even looked at the box that Ingenium had delicately placed on the front seat, wondering whether or not it was actually a person, but it was unlikely, given the fact that whoever this "Enigma" was… probably didn't name themselves 'enigma' because the enemy wouldn't know what the box moving in front of them was.

Then… he turned his gaze over to the stuffed doll next to him.

"Give it the test, Ice Queen." Hans thought.

"Really? Are you going to do that to somebody that may be a human?" the Ice Queen said in his mindscape. "I'm not going to blow cold air at her and take all the blame for it… again."

"You didn't say this when we were testing that completely cuboid kid sitting next to me in second grade."

"But… she's definitely a person, right?" the Ice Queen said, "Actually, I'm not quite sure… She doesn't seem to be moving… or blinking… Fine, I'll give her the test."

Slowly, the Ice Queen floated out of Hans's mindscape, the upper half of her body protruding from the back of Hans's head in an incorporeal manner. Hans shivered as a cold feeling swept across the back of his neck, but endured it in order to discern the truth. Shifting one blue eye over and leaning his head slightly to pretend to be drowsy, Hans was able to angle his vision slightly as the black-haired pigtailed girl shivered in discomfort, before blinking.

Her eyes were pure black, and oddly circular, almost making her look like a yokai. The pale, clammy, almost mask-like face was unnaturally taught, as if something rigid that wasn't a skull was under the surface of her skin. Otherwise, the perfectly cylindrical and smooth limbs seemed… like a container.

At least she was a hero, right?

With this thought in mind, Hans slowly shuffled towards Iida, a figure that gave him more comfort, despite the threats of memorizing patrol schedules and taking up more hero responsibilities.

However, given the fact that the girl was looking at the Ice Queen with a disgruntled expression on her face… while the Ice Queen was looking back at her like an average person would look at Abigail William's third ascension… there was some explaining to do.

"Oh, I'm sorry about her." Hans said, smiling slightly uneasily. "She always does that to people that she hasn't met."

"Come on, now." the Ice Queen said in a voice resembling what some would probably imagine to be the voice of a sultry female actress. "I'm hardly that immature. I was just curious about you, darling. What products do you use for your skin? I'm having a little trouble keeping myself so pale, you know? Some blue always just seeps through."

"It's the same for me." the woman said, a smile creeping on her features, and even though she was sort of blushing excitedly at finally finding a 'alternate color blushing companion', it was a more muted gray. "The blue color is just so much harder to match with the pale white aesthetic, you know? Anything that you wear that is white just makes it pop out even more!"

"I know, right?" the Ice Queen said, flourishing her white dress. "It's so hard getting something to wear for me."

"You're incorporeal." Hans deadpanned.

"Exactly!" the Ice Queen said. "And until you get a holographic watch that can project clothes for me, I'll have to keep wearing this dress."

"That's way too expensive." Hans said. "Well, it's nice to meet you, and I'm sorry that she bothered you. Are you…"

"Yeah." the woman sighed. "I am Enigma. Pro-hero and sidekick to Ingenium."

"She is one of the oldest remaining members of the agency." Iida said excitedly. "Her quirk, Gel-like shadow, allows her to expand her body to extremely large dimensions and contain situations clearly."

"I'm not as popular as Mt. Lady, though." Enigma said sourly. "A couple years back, I was attacked while on my way to the agency for my interview."

"...What do you mean by remaining members?" Hans asked. "If you're a sidekick, shouldn't you basically be permanently employed by an agency?"

"...Well, we've been having quite the manpower issue…" Iida muttered.

"Yeah." Ingenium said, smiling sadly. "I'm happy for them that the HPSC granted them their own hero licenses in light of their good performance… but with this, Team Idaten is on the decline. We can barely manage our normal patrol routes now."

"We used to have about one hundred sidekicks." Iida said. "We've always had about a hundred in team Idaten, given the fact that as the Iida family, we have been heroes for generations! Of course, this is no fault of my brother. There are simply more and more positions available within Japan."

"Huh. So all of your family have been heroes?" Hans asked.

"All of us that get engine quirks." Iida said proudly. "Usually, it's one to two per generation. We're quite the familiar name in Hosu now, and my brother has taken 68th in the national hero ranking!"

"I'm not actually that big of a deal." Ingenium said, taking one hand off the wheel to scratch his neck awkwardly.

"But nii-san…" Iida said, "Japan has more than ten thousand pro-heroes! It's a huge accomplishment to be in the top one hundred!"

"There are ten thousand heroes in Japan?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow. "There are that many heroes?"

"Indeed." Iida said, nodding his head and making a chopping motion with his arms in the confined space. "And there might even be more, now! Just think about how many internship offers Kirishima-san got! He even got an internship offer from the number six hero, Crust, due to the similar nature of their quirks and his high standings in the sports festival!"

"Okay, let's see…" Hans said, pulling out his phone. "Japan has about 52,000 square kilometers of urban areas… And if there are ten thousand heroes… then each hero has to maintain, on average, 5.2 square kilometers of area per day."

"That's surprisingly little…" Iida said. "I've never thought about it that way."

"Isn't this an oversaturation?" Hans said. "If it's eight kilometers squared, then assuming that each hero is situated in the center of their territory, then the average distance between each hero, if you spread them out perfectly in the urban areas… are…"

"About two and a quarter kilometers away from other pro heroes." Iida provided helpfully.

"And… let's see…" Hans said, looking up some more statistics. "There are approximately two thousand police stations in Japan. So, there are five times more heroes than police stations… which means that heroes will have more coverage of the cities than the police. And that's not even counting sidekicks."

For a moment, the conversation stalled.

"So, with more than six times the coverage, along with the fact that other heroes in neighboring areas can come help if there's a serious situation… Why don't heroes cover the night shift?" Hans asked Ingenium. "You did say you were going to be answering this, Ingenium-san."

"Okay, just call me Iida, hmm, no… My brother's right there. Just call me Tensei." Ingenium sighed. "And as for your question, well, strictly speaking, there are heroes that cover the night shift."

"Strictly speaking?" Hans asked.

"Yeah." Tensei said. "Many heroes have secondary careers, along with the fact that they get more visibility if they operate in the day. Thus, only underground heroes really patrol during the late night. And for the times from twelve A.M to six A.M, well… the police alert the local heroes and they try to rush to the scene."

"But according to the internet, twice as much crime occurs during the night compared to during the day." Hans said.

"And the counts of villainy have those statistics reversed." Tensei said. "That was a question on one of my paper exams. Heroes patrol in order to reduce panic… increase visibility… and stop villains. We don't actually fight crime. We defeat villains and set good examples to… increase social stability."

"A lot of social instability is caused by the oversaturation of hero culture, though." Hans said back, remembering his speech a few months ago. "Just look at the amount of vigilantes getting themselves hurt. Look at the amount of villains that run towards heroes, trying to attack them. Isn't this just worsening the supposed class divisions between the people with more fortunate quirks and those less fortunate?"

"...I don't know." Tensei said, sighing. "I'll be perfectly honest, I've never thought about it that way. But what I do know is that what we're doing is helping society. We stop villainy from destroying the city, we donate a lot of our product advertisements to charity… and, no matter how you slice it, society has only got more stable after heroes appeared. So I don't really know if there's another profession that can help

"So, if you could help people more by being a police officer… would you do it?" Hans asked.

"Without hesitation." Tensei said. "But being a hero really is the way to make the most impact with the least people."

"Well, if you say s-"

Then, in front of them, a car exploded. The dense traffic they were in instantly ground to a halt as oily smoke billowed out in front of them.

"Iida, Andersen-san, Enigma-san, out of the car!" Tensei yelled out. Enigma tossed him his helmet, which was stowed under her seat like a life jacket on a plane.

"Let's go assess the situation." Ingenium ordered. "Tenya, secure the passengers. Andersen, provide medical aid if necessary. Your quirk can heal, right?"

As Hans stepped out of the car after Enigma, he looked up at the blue, blue sky while the short, pale woman slowly expanded into a several-meter tall black and purple-ish blob, with what looked like a yokai mask hovering around her facial region. Tenya put his helmet back on and began to direct traffic, one of his arms pointing away from the explosion while his other was spinning like a windmill.

"If the rest of my life is going to be like this if I follow this career… Just let me stop being a hero…"

Ingenium blasted off with the boosters on his elbows, and with a groan, Hans adjusted his bowtie, pulled up his oversized sleeves, materialized his summons and surged forwards on a tide of roots.

"Gad vide hvad Charles ville sige hvis han så mig nu…" ("Wonder what Charles would say if he saw me now…")

…

Ok. Numbers explanation time

1.Amount of heroes:

Todoroki got 4,123 offers from distinct hero agencies. Why the agency number matters is because you can have agencies like Endeavor's or All Might's, which have sidekicks that are heroes themselves. Even Ingenium, in the Vigilantes spinoff, has heroes as sidekicks. Then, there are probably actual sidekicks, which don't have proper certification (because there's an exam for that that's also shown in the anime, and thus, there has to be a group of heroes that just never got a license, and are thus "lesser heroes".). Sidekicks are also mentioned in the Vigilantes spinoff, I think, according to the manga.

So, with this, I put the actual amount of heroes as an estimated 10,000. This is because, if even agencies like Ingenium's (which is not small, by the way) which have other pro heroes on their teams, then most hero teams will at least have 2-3 people. Ingenium's has like 6 known characters that appear in the Vigilantes manga, so he's obviously larger than average in terms of population. Thus, I think an average of 2-3 certified heroes in an agency is reasonable.

And then that's only the known number of agencies. Obviously, not everyone sent Todoroki an offer, meaning that there could even be more heroes than 10,000.

2. Amount of police stations

The actual number is 1.1k in Japan as of 2022, but given the fact that they had a crime spree, I'm doubling it.

3. Japan's landmass

Where would heroes operate? If all heroes want to be famous and want to solve crimes, they'll stick to the metropolitan areas. Metropolitan/urban areas are 14.7% of Japan's landmass, which means that approximately 52,000 square kilometers of city area. I'm going to assume that Japan's population probably didn't increase… and may have decreased, given their current situation and, if quirks emerge, a horrible crime spree, so cities probably haven't expanded.

4. Crime rates

Specifically, when I say that crime is 2 times more likely to occur at night than at day. We don't see heroes patrolling past 12am, when there aren't any people on the street… ever. Nor is it ever mentioned in the wiki. Obviously, some underground heroes and vigilantes do, but with the tremendous amounts of manpower that heroes have, they probably could do it. Why they don't is probably, as I said in the fic sort of, is because you only gain clout during the day.

And why does Ingenium say that villainy is 2x more popular in the day than in the night?

We have to think about what villainy is. Villainy is showing off. Crime is stealing stuff under the radar. Again, if you want your career in crime to last long, you have to be sneaky. You don't rob banks in broad daylight because the heroes exist. Thus, I deduce that villains only fight heroes to get justification. To get confirmation that they are strong, and then vent their feelings about being bullied or something… or there's something genuinely wrong with them. Or they just want to flex We can see examples here being Gentle (wants to flex and be famous), Toga (something's wrong with her), and Dabi (something's genuinely wrong with his upbringing and he's probably mentally disturbed because of the trauma). Along with the fact that committing crimes with 10,000 heroes wandering the streets doesn't make sense, my only conclusion is this.

That was quite the ramble.

Hope you had fun reading. Join the discord if you want.

Discord link: discord . gg / s2uFUydRVd

-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

This chapter will start in a more… dark… way. Basically, the first part of the fic is detailing a villain's backstory, and as you all know, those are definitely cheerful. If you catch the reference in this, by the way, you get a virtual cookie. But yeah, ao3 trigger warning for implied SA.

-SpiritOfErebus

Five years ago, Norikoto's daughter ran out of a bus, mid-highway, and got hit by a car.

Everybody was telling him that she had committed suicide because she wasn't doing well in college. Because she was lying about something and couldn't face the guilt. Because of emotional problems. Because that was just how Japan was.

But he knew better. His little girl, his daughter, would never do something like that without good reason.

So, he investigated.

He worked at her school as a janitor, trying to investigate the rumors. There were none. Nothing about her, other than the fact that she was above average in her grades. She wasn't bullied. She had a good enough quirk so that she didn't face any trouble in the K-12 system, and college wasn't any different. There were no relationship troubles. Ever since his wife died of cancer, there were too many financial woes for her to even attempt a relationship.

What was the reason, then?

Finally, he concluded that it wasn't a suicide. There was no reason to… not that he believed that talk anyways.

Then, he got a job as a bus driver. On the very line that his daughter died on. He drove past the place that she died every day, always collecting fares and greetings with a smile on his face. But nobody here remembered what had happened. Everybody just rode the line regardless, with their faces stuck to their phones, games, and hero news.

But there had to be something on this bus that made her walk out in a panic. Or, not on this bus specifically, but the route that he was driving.

His house slowly got more and more dilapidated. That was okay. He didn't have a family to come back to anyways. His finances got more and more dire. The debts were stacking up. He didn't care either, as long as he could find the reason for his daughter's death.

He practiced with his quirk, and sharpened his mind. If going villain was going to let him get revenge, then so be it. Nothing mattered anymore.

Then, he saw them… Or him, for that matter…

He was a dumpy, middle aged office worker that always rode the bus on this specific time. Within the crowded cars, within this reputation-obsessed country, nobody would stand up for those girls.

Norikoto really wanted to do something, but he didn't want to scare the man off his route.

One day, he sneaked a pressure cooker onto the bus… and put it under his seat, before using his quirk to heat up his bus's engine more than usual.

If that salaryman entered his bus today, he would ask him that question. If the answer was what he expected it to be…

Then the whole bus was going to go out in flames.

With a megaphone and a poster of his daughter's face rolled up in a tennis bag, he began his route that day.

He picked up another college student and her boyfriend. He picked up one of his more frequent riders, somebody dragging a bag full of watermelons to his granddaughter in the big city. He picked up an older woman on her way to work in her flower store.

Then, he picked up the salaryman.

"How long have you been riding this route?" he asked.

"Oh, just about seven years." the salaryman responded, tossing the coins into the fare box. The driver's hands tightened in his white gloves, the fabric's plastic melting around his grip. "Why do you ask?"

"It's a pity I won't be driving this route anymore." Norikoto said calmly. "I'll be off to a better place soon."

"Well, good luck with your employment." the salaryman said, nodding at him before walking into the crowded seats.

Before turning into the highway that would end his career, the college girl suddenly woke up, screaming, begging to be let off the bus.

His heart panged, and he let the couple off. She looked so much like his daughter…

None of the other passengers would be spared. Japan would pay today.

…

"You have been surrounded!" Ingenium said through a built-in loudspeaker in his helmet. "Endangering lives and destroying public property is illegal! If you do not surrender now, we will be forced to use violence to subdue you!"

"Why is it always the highway?" Hans muttered, swerving past a car and ducking to avoid some debris. The Elder Tree Mother used one root to drag a toddler out of the way of a still-moving car, before placing him gently down in his mother's arms. "Why are all these villains so-"

"Three years ago…" a voice said through the megaphone, "My daughter died on this highway. She was assaulted by one of the passengers on Route 57. Nobody stepped in to help her, and trying to get away, she left the bus in the middle of the highway… and was hit by a car."

"Is this your backstory?" Hans shouted. "Because even if your circumstances are tragic, you're literally trying to kill hundreds of people here. That hardly makes you deserving of sympathy!"

"You're right." the villain said. "Nobody cares here in Japan. Which is why… I'll kill all of you… to get revenge!"

"Why did you have to do that?" Ingenium shouted at Hans as he dove from the sky to divert another large piece of debris. "Now there will never be a peaceful resolution! More innocent lives will be lost!"

"This was planned, you idiot." Hans shouted back, creating an ice shield as the villain touched another gasoline-filled car with a quirk that probably heated objects up, making it explode into a fiery mess as well. "This is a revenge-against-society villain that's already in the middle of his supposedly glorious revenge! There won't be a way to talk them down."

"Remember her face!" the probably insane, balding middle aged man shouted, making another car explode while waving around a poster with somebody's face on it at such speeds that actually seeing the face was impossible. "Remember the name Sakura Norikoto as you're sent down there with her!"

"Are all the civilians evacuated in the area?" Ingenium shouted.

"Yes, nii-san!" Iida replied. "I observe no other civilians! And with Enigma-san's quirk, she won't cause collateral damage while trying to immobilize the villain."

Suddenly, the rather short, pale girl's transformation… got larger… and larger… and larger…

There was a gigantic, gel-like mountain that slowly surged forwards on top of the cars. The mask wobbled in the front of the mass, but the result was that the villain was now totally trapped in what Hans assumed to be pretty strong and organic gels. The villain's megaphone fell from the air and shattered on the pavement, and his poster was flung off the bridge, blown away by winds and the updrafts of the roaring fires.

Then, the gel blob exploded as it glowed a dull red for just a second. Enigma's form rapidly shrank as she recoiled from the injury, trying to minimize the matter loss from the puncture in the slime-like body.

"Did you really think that you could contain my vengeance like that?" the villain shouted.

"What?" Hans shouted from a hundred meters away. The blob had really crossed the distance fast.

"What did you say?" the villain shouted back.

"I said…" Ingenium said coldly, from behind the villain. "That if you didn't stand down, we would be forced to use violence.."

One quick aerial spin kick finished the job, knocking the former bus driver out. The barely conscious body skidded on the pavement, the faded bus driver's uniform tearing and revealing aged, frayed clothes. One person's final struggle was forever defeated.

"As expected of nii-san!" Iida said, eyes sparkling. "Executing a flight under the highway's bridge while Enigma-san was restricting the villain!"

Hans, however, paid no mind to this. He walked past the burning wrecks of cars and destroyed windshields, past the shattered glass and twisted metal fragments, and past the celebrating heroes and cheering civilians.

He knelt down before the average civilian, and sent a sheet of blue paper sinking into his forehead.

…

"So, you failed." Hans said. "You've tried to enact revenge in a very public location and were stopped by the heroes."

"You were one of those people that tried to stop me! You're no better than the…than the… bastard that started all of this!" the nameless villain shouted in the deep black void. He felt like he was falling. Like winds were howling and swirling around him… Like his life was slipping before his eyes, each colorful, bright image of what once was happiness drifting above him. So near and visible, yet completely out of reach.

"Well, you were trying to kill me." Hans shrugged. "It was just a matter of circumstance. But what would have happened if you succeeded?"

The black void shifted. Ingenium was dead. Hans was melted. Enigma was reduced to nothing but slag.

Endeavor was defeated at his feet. Even All Might was done, a heated hand stabbed through his chest.

Everybody in Japan knew about him. Everyone looked at him in horror. The poster of her burned, and his daughter's printed expression, assailed by the ashes and the heat, seemed to be wilting.

"Did you really solve anything?" Hans asked before the scene of hell. Before the nameless villain's eyes. "Nothing would have been solved by violence. Everything you did, your actions, your efforts… were pointless."

The nameless villain sobbed.

"But were you wrong to take revenge?" Hans asked.

The villain looked up.

"Is it really right for whoever you were taking revenge for to be exploited like that?" Hans said. "Did you feel like what you were doing was worth it?"

"...Yes." the villain muttered.

"And thus, you will meet your end." Hans said. "Known as nothing but yesterday's villain. Society didn't change, and all you did was prove yourself to be a homicidal maniac. Cases like this will still continue regardless of what you've done."

"But what could I have done?" the villain roared, grabbing Hans's illusionary collar with both of his hands. "Nobody would have done anything! That bastard rode the bus for years, harassing and assaulting ki.….kids! Kids just like my daughter… If nobody would do anything, then I will! I've killed that bastard! I'll… I'll…"

Hans merely stayed silent, watching as the villain's mindscape was projected into the void. The exploding bus. The innocent people that occasionally rode the bus. His anger at some of the frequent riders for not doing or not noticing anything.

"...What have I done?" the villain sobbed. "That old man… carrying watermelons for his granddaughter… That old lady, just going to her own business… I've gotten revenge, but now they're dead too. I've just caused more blood feuds."

"Everyone is at fault here." Hans said. "And there is no right answer for anybody. They've created a Japanese society where those types of crimes are so common that they mostly go unreported, and you've killed a bus full of people to get revenge for your daughter. But we have a right answer here and now."

"There is?"

"Yes." Hans said coldly. "You're the villain and we've captured you. What you stood for will be forgotten as a news station reports about the traffic disturbance, and the hero that stopped you will get a flash in the spotlight, before another crime and another villain replaces you on the headlines. You lose, and the heroes win."

"...Will I get a trial? Like those reformed villains that went to court?"

"No." Hans sighed. "I'm fairly sure you know more about the Japanese legal system than I do now. The status quo will continue until somebody does something about it."

"I did something about it." the villain said.

"You furthered the problem. You contributed to the villain population and strengthened the position of heroes in society." Hans said. "I'm sorry, but that's really all you did."

"Why are you saying all this to me?" the villain asked. "To torture me? To remind me… of the things I've done?"

"No." Hans said. "I want you to think about what you could have done better. Because at its core… your story is a tragedy. And I do feel sorry for you."

The void slowly faded, going from a glowing, black void to the dark realms of unconsciousness.

"But I feel worse for the innocents affected by you." Hans muttered. "So… have fun in prison."

…

Traffic was completely stalled by the flaming wrecks of the cars, and given the fact that nobody else here could help with the fires, Hans and the Ice Queen had to do literally all the work, trying to smother all of the fires with ice.

Sadly, Hans's ice creation speed… left a lot to be desired.

So, as he walked from section to section, ice creeping from car to car in a straight line in order to contain the fire's spread and trying not to make any more cars explode, Hans got progressively more and more tired.

…And the ice was going to stall traffic. With Ingenium's truck behind the explosion, this meant that even if the firefighters and police arrived to arrest the villain on an impassable road… they would have to wait for everything to be finished, the villain to be arrested, the car wrecks to be identified, and the ice to be cleared away before they could keep going.

To where Hans started the day.

Why was Hans using the Ice Queen? Well, the little mermaid was on vacation, off to whatever adventure she had chosen during the internship period. Being one of Hans's weaker summons in terms of combat ability, he felt like it was probably okay for her to wander off.

And guess where he was now. Putting out fires with ice just because the little mermaid was on vacation.

Hans tapped the last car and an ice spike burst through the ground, impaling the innards and stopping a gas explosion from destroying even more cars. The cars would be counted as collateral, but since it was burnt, had shrapnel punched through it, and it was actually melting… It probably couldn't get any worse.

Then, he sat down on the side of the highway, on top of the rather warm concrete, and sighed.

"Good job, Andersen-san!" Iida said, running up to him and bowing. "Thank you for your efforts."

"It's literally my job." Hans said exasperatedly. "Besides, this getting done faster just lets us solve this entire situation faster. We can be done with this day faster and stop sitting out in the hot sun next to burnt out wrecks of cars."

"We still need to work on your attitude." Iida said, shaking his head. "Being a hero is an honor of public service. We have the opportunity to do our best to help society to our fullest potential."

Hans thought about that nameless villain. About his revenge, which, at its core, was against an issue that existed in Japan even before the rise of quirks. The safety of public transport.

"...I think there are some problems that nobody can solve." Hans said. "And in this case? The furthest thing away from a solution are the heroes."

(Actually, he did know his name. His last name, at least. Because his daughter's name was Sakura Norikoto. Thus, Norikoto, former bus driver, former father, former family-man… a living, breathing human… would either be executed or rot in jail forever.)

(But why would anybody need to know? He was just another statistic now.)

…

"This… is going to be our new office." Tensei said, looking up at the totally normal, but slightly run down office building. "For some reason, the rent's down by a lot, so I'll be able to stay here for longer than I anticipated to hold the fort and intimidate the gangs until another hero shows up."

Hans looked at the cattail plants placed against a pillar of the apartment's first floor and deduced that somebody had probably died there, given the fact that the rent had gone down.

Adjusting his grip on the small bag he was carrying to try and distract himself from that somber thought, he made sure that his summons were properly moving the contents of their truck. The little match girl waddled towards the bushes, having probably spotted some stray cats.

It was now 8 P.M. And he was very, very hungry. Given the fact that they were interns and Ingenium had to give an action report to the police after they saw all of the ice constructs around the burnt zone… they had skipped lunch, which made the issue even worse.

"Hey…" Hans asked, "Hasn't the internship schedule for today ended? Can I just… go home now?"

Tensei checked his phone while adjusting his grip on a box. "I mean, I guess. You all encountered a villain situation and responded according to how you were supposed to as interns. Iida, you evacuated the civilians. You did a good job with it. There were no casualties other than those in the initial blast zone. And Andersen-san, you did good work with containment. I suppose you can leave. Can you just… help me carry those boxes up?"

"Can you just go up to that floor and open the window?" Hans said, looking at the Elder Tree Mother, who nodded back at him. "She can deliver the rest up there."

"...I guess." Tensei said, waving off Iida's silent protests of using his quirk off the clock. Going into the hallway filled with little stickers and stamps advertising various small businesses pasted on the bare, concrete walls, he pressed the defunct button to the elevator several times, before sighing and climbing the stairs.

The three left outside of the apartment building waited… and waited… and waited…

"So." Hans said, trying to break the silence. "How many of those kinds of villains do you guys encounter per day?"

"...Just about once every two days." Enigma signed. "There's always something to do as a hero, though. Not every day is a big fight, and not every fight is in as dangerous an environment or with somebody that has a dangerous quirk. Most of the time, we just stop dumb teenagers from doing stupid things."

"...Like?" Hans asked, while using his hands to motion to his summons where to put the boxes. The Tin Soldier hopped across the bricks like he was playing hopscotch on the one leg he had and attempted to place the full box of instant noodles he was carrying down delicately.

"Delinquency, vandalism, all of that stuff." Enigma droned on. "Occasionally, they think they're strong enough to fight back, but most people just run away from me when I start using my quirk. They think it's pretty villainous. When I go to a new area to operate as a hero, people are always scared of me."

The three stood in silence once again, their talk somewhat saddened by the circumstances of Enigma.

"...I suppose that's why I never wanted to go start an agency on my own."

As a window above opened and Tensei waved, conveniently ending the conversation, Hans directed the Elder Tree Mother to grow up to the window, slowly winding around the building like a gigantic, mutated ivy plant. Then, other branches slowly ferried the goods up to the windowsill, where Tensei lifted them up and placed them down gently. When the whole truck was unloaded and everything was placed, Tensei gave a thumbs up and closed the window.

"Andersen-san," Iida began, "How are you going to clear up this mess? It sort of seems like a-"

Hans snapped his fingers, and the construct disappeared.

"I stand corrected." Iida muttered, nodding to himself. "Of course the vice president wouldn't do something this inconsiderate."

"Well, I'll have to run back home for dinner." Hans said, waving to the two out of social obligation only. "See you two tomorrow. Are we meeting here?"

"Yup." Enigma shrugged.

"Indeed we are, Andersen-san!" Iida said very formally. "Tomorrow, we must also show up at 8 A.M. sharp! Please remember that as you go home today."

Noting the very obvious personality difference between the two, Hans left, pulling his lab coat tighter around his body as the May evening got colder and colder. Given the fact that with the Ice Queen's curse, he was more susceptible to cold, it wasn't exactly out of the ordinary.

He walked past flickering streetlight after flickering streetlight, looking around as the shadows they cast almost seemed to move.

But he was the ghost here. The spirit that had possessed a body. He didn't have anything to be afraid of.

Past the leaves and past a little stand with a sort-of-irritating blue haired chibi child taped to the cardboard, Hans scoffed as he looked at the bad attempt at selling some sort of novelty product.

"Why would any idiot set up here?"

Then, he felt something as what seemed like a very sharp knife stabbed very slightly into the back of his neck.

"These idiots right here would… our mysterious rival gang."

Two people grabbed his arms and clapped a hand over his mouth, before he was spun around to look at a woman with particularly sharp, metallic fingertips.

"I didn't think they would send anybody so short. Bring him back to the base!"

"Oh great, as if my day couldn't get any worse."

…

AN

And that's Monday almost over. I'm sort of breezing through these chapters because I've thought a lot about them during my vacation, but it's going to take a while to actually write them.

Pain.

Discord link: discord . gg / s2uFUydRVd

On a shameless note: Stats give me motivation. Every favorite and follow fuels my nonexistent ego and every review gives me mental sustenance. Please… do not let my mind starve to death.


-SpiritOfErebus

Chapter Text

Here it is… the next chapter.

This was kind of a mess to write. Hopefully, I made it somewhat coherent. Right now, a lot of worlds are colliding.

-SpiritOfErebus

Hans couldn't take it anymore.

The stabbing pain. The searing burns. The unending desire for it all to end.

Hans wanted it to be over. The flashing lights. The darkness flashing in front of his eyes. The dizziness as he was manhandled as he was transported, from hand to hand, and from wall to wall.

At last, he blearily opened his eyes when the bag over his eyes was removed.

…What? The torture hadn't started yet?

No. It had just begun. Hans hadn't eaten since the morning. One, singular, measly croissant brought off the clearance sale section, one can of coffee, and a couple of bottles of water… for the entire day of attempting to fight a villain, before sitting on a sunny, yet iced over bridge for several hours while constantly assuring civilians that came up to ask questions that everything was alright.

And oh… what a horrid day it was. As he looked around the dark room, at the indistinct figures that surrounded him, Hans exaggerated a laugh to distract the generic gangsters while trying to come up with a plan.

"Heh… Heheheh… Hahahah!" he laughed, shaking his body as he laughed to assess what was still left on his person. A hard knock on his leg indicated that his phone was still in the pocket of his white lab coat. "What are you high school rejects even trying to do to kidnap me? Did you really think that I was a part of your supposed gang war?"

He brought his hands away from his lab coat pockets as a duckling appeared in his pockets, and, under his control, turned on his phone. As Hans endured the splitting headache of trying to get a duckling to operate a phone and send his location along with a text explaining the situation to Iida, he had to continue talking to piss off the many, many people slowly walking towards him, trying to intimidate him.

"Me, Hans Christian Andersen, a member of the gang?" he asked incredulously, his two arms spreading to the sides in a gesture of helpless confusion. He was partially trying to draw attention away from his lab coat… while he was actually incredibly confused.

"Wait, you're Hans Christian Andersen?" the woman that kidnapped him exclaimed.

"And you're probably that gang that's been spreading across my neighborhood." Hans sighed dramatically. "It's funny. Even the most compatible couples may not make it to the end, but those with grudges will run into each other time and time again. I suppose that's my fate, taking employment related to the happenings in this district."

"I think that there's a big misunderstanding here…" a blindfolded woman said, moving rather quickly towards him.

But it didn't matter anymore. Hans was ready to fight back. His distraction had succeeded. His overly dramatic personality mask could die in a fire now that the duckling in his pocket finished typing out the message. Now all he had to do was survive the horde of people with various implements of violence.

He probably wasn't going to survive. But he still did want to finish his mini-speech.

"And here's the thing about grudges…" Hans said, grinning as the duck hit send, before dissipating into light, blue sparks. The woman took a startled step back, wary of the sudden flaring of his quirk.

"They just keep going. And between our social classes? Civilian and gangster?"

The Elder Tree Mother sprouted from the floorboards, circling around the feet of gangsters. The Ice Queen spiraled into existence behind Hans, ice sparking in her fingertips.

"There's just no end to our conflict."

Hans sighed as he saw the construction workers beginning to rummage through their piles of equipment. Before preparing to throw out some matches to cause an explosion, he froze as he realized his phone was still in his pocket. Doing a quick spin and putting his phone down on the chair in the center of the room, he began to make preparations so that even if he would be severely injured, his phone would still be intact.

Truly, material possessions were worth more than his life.

"What?" one construction worker said, stopping in the middle of getting his sledgehammer out. "Aren't we fighting?"

"Okay, okay." Hans said, freezing the chair over to further protect his material possessions. "Fighting is fighting. But we all know how expensive a phone is, right?"

The construction workers muttered and nodded.

"We're not enemies! We're-" the blindfolded woman began.

"Shush." Hans said, pointing at her. "How could somebody like you possibly start a gang? You're probably just their accountant or something."

The woman recoiled back, almost as if she was struck physically.

"Anyways, you may be gangsters and I may be a hero-in-training, but this doesn't stop us from respecting each other's property, right?"

"...I guess. But you're probably still a gangster, right? Just pretending to be a hero to get us to lower our guard. Hasanote obviously didn't kidnap you for no reason."

"Well…" the woman with sharp fingertips said, taking a closer look at Hans. "I may have made a mistake…"

"You should be more confident!" one of the gangsters said. "Just look at him! He's even wearing a lab coat! What kind of hero wears a lab coat?"

"Whatever makes you happy." Hans sighed, for what he felt like the fifth time this minute. There was no way to talk this out now, when possible misunderstanding had festered in both of their minds.

But looking at the group of people that relied exclusively on physical attacks, Hans was… relatively confident that he could at least survive for quite a while.

"We're not a gang." the woman claimed.

"That's funny." Hans said, grinning like a shark. "Because you just performed a kidnapping."

The construction worker shrugged uneasily, but after determining whether or not his cohorts were going to charge forwards, he sighed as the rest of the gang finished perfecting their intimidating postures. "Aaaargh. Die, heroes."

"Yes." Hans said very, very energetically. "Let us battle to the death and such."

Lethargically, they began to do battle, their spirit completely dampened by the non-sequitur of Hans's instinctive phone preservation.

…

Kdnpped bi gasters. Send halp. Cam to explsdin buldang.

Iida looked down at his phone.

"Nii-san?"

"Yeah?"

"Anderson-san sent a text message." he said, handing his phone over to his brother. As Tensei tried to interpret the mess of spelling errors, he tilted his head and even tried to flip the phone over.

"...Exploding buldang? What the hell is this?" he muttered.

In the distance, a great plume of fire rose up into the sky.

"I guess that's close enough. We have to get over there!"

…

Hans lay in one corner of the house, clutching his stomach. On top of enduring hunger for the whole day, it had now been hit by a sledgehammer… twice.

It probably wasn't healthy. And they were probably particularly motivated by the fact that Hans had just used the Little Match Girl to set off an explosion in their headquarters, because after the explosion, they started to attack ferociously.

Sadly, the fire itself wasn't very effective somehow. It was probably a combination of the people standing in front having quirks that made them physically tougher… or the fact that Hans wasn't doing great on mana supply, given the fact that he hadn't eaten or rested for many, many hours.

Even if his quirk was pretty good at stopping groups from attacking him, it wasn't able to stop the thirty or so muscle-bound idiots with sledgehammers, jackhammers… other… hammers… and things like that to completely surround him. Hans had a grand total of eight summons powerful enough to make a difference, but the ducks already had played their part in sending the text messages and were useless in direct combat. The little mermaid was on vacation. The little match girl, having used all of her matches, hung about nervously, waiting for her supply to regenerate. And… the girl who got her feet chopped off because of red shoes wasn't useful at all because nobody here wore red shoes.

Thus, he lay in the corner, hiding behind the elder tree mother getting sledgehammered and the tin soldier's surface being furiously wrinkled by the unending blows. However, refusing to yield, the construction workers, apparently too angry to really think for themselves, kept shouting at him and trying to subdue him.

Behind the crowd, through the branches of the Elder Tree Mother, Hans could see the blindfolded woman and what looked like a man made entirely of molten rock attempt to pull people out of the melee, shouting at them to stop fighting. The woman that had kidnapped him, with knives as fingertips, was unable to do anything, probably because when she would get involved, she would probably split some veins.

And one guy carrying a machete in his belt was trying to block the door, stopping more construction workers from entering.

"You no-good hero bastards!" the muscle-brained gangsters yelled. "You didn't do anything when we were being exploited like slaves, and now you're trying to stop our ideals from coming into this world!"

A sledgehammer hit.

"Go die!"

A jackhammer was stabbed into the Elder Tree mother's roots and turned on, sending chipped wood flying everywhere. The Ice Queen attempted to freeze the bunch of people, but after a couple of muscle bulges and sledgehammer swings, they were free of the ice.

…Hans really wasn't that useful. He really wasn't strong. But he was very annoying. Very, very capable of being annoying.

And after a brainstorming session, he finally chose the option that would greatly inconvenience those gangsters.

"...Didn't Churchill want to build an aircraft carrier out of pykrete?" he muttered. It had been the results of one of his history reads after learning about the fact that Denmark surrendered two hours after the German invasion had begun.

"Don't. You. D-ouch-are!" the Elder Tree Mother hissed as yet another one of her roots was severed.

"I'm very sorry." Hans said somberly, "But this has to be done."

He made the Ice Queen freeze the tree. As the Elder Tree Mother hissed in pain and grew more roots to try and quarantine herself from the frozen area, the patch of wood that she had vacated grew increasingly dark in color. Eventually, axes began to bounce off of the hardened wood. Sledgehammers still substantially cracked the now hardened wood, but the unfrozen wood that was behind the hardened shell held firm.

Clutching his stomach in both hunger and pain, Hans wondered if he would have to pay if he broke out of the wall to escape out of the window.

As he was about to succumb to desperation and contemplated the price of drywall as roots snaked towards the wall section, something broke… that wasn't wood. Or ice. Or Hans's sanity.

"This is pro hero Ingenium on the scene!" a familiar voice shouted tinnily, through whatever speaker system or voice system that his helmet had. "Stand down and stop hurting my colleague."

"...He's a hero?" one of the people swinging an axe said. "I thought he was joking about being a hero, but he's actually a hero?"

"Hero in training!" Hans shouted from his cocoon. "Did you really think that a small child would be a part of a dangerous gang?"

"Given the fact that quirks exist?" one of the muscle brained construction workers said. "Yes."

"Absolutely."

"Hans… they're right." Ingenium said. "A lot of the most emotionally unstable, powerful gangsters are children. Those with powerful quirks usually are sucked into the lifestyle and die young."

"That's quite dark." Hans sighed. "Well, now that unsettling truths have been revealed, are we ready to call this ceasefire?"

"And…" Tensei added, "We have a couple of questions for the… leader of this group. We were sent in to quell the conflicts between your two gangs."

"They killed Gagoiru!" one of the workers spat. "We were just standing in front of buildings guard-"

Somebody slapped him in the back of the head.

"-Passing out fliers!" he said. "Yeah. That. Definitely. Passing out fliers."

"And we actually started this because of you." the blindfolded woman said, pointing at Hans.

Hans took a step back as Ingenium, Iida (the younger one), and the gangsters collectively stared at him.

"What? Boss, you never told us about this."

"I've never heard of this."

"He looks like a foreigner!"

"What the hell is happening." Hans said, fumbling and stumbling for the frozen chair in the middle of the room. Hans slowly walked towards it, put one hand on the back of the chair, and sat down extremely slowly. He was feeling faint. Slightly dizzy. Maybe that was low blood sugar talking, but Hans was fairly sure it was confusion. The still-frozen chair was cold, and his phone was buzzing and showing his parents' names, for some reason, but he sat down anyway, in too much pain to really care about these disturbances.

Then, unexpectedly, the man that looked like molten rock began to speak. With a voice that sounded like rock and stone grinding together, he began to gargle out their origin story in a surprisingly coherent manner.

"It all started when you gave a speech in front of those protesters."

…

(One excruciatingly long hour later)

…

"So what you're telling me." Hans said, pinching the bridge of his nose as the ice freezing the chair he was sitting on slowly melted. "Is that I started all of this? I inspired this movement, which caused you all to go on strike and overthrow your local mafia, therefore causing a power vacuum in this city and attracting another gang in?"

"...Yes." the molten rock man, Shihiro, said.

"And all of this stuff was started by me equating the danger of quirks to guns, therefore questioning the necessity of quirk laws… and talking about how quirks and unfair treatment are linked?"

"It was more specifically… the idea that we were all inconvenienced by our quirks and kept out of opportunities because of it. You did mention that somewhere in your speech. Then, the fact that you were a hero student speaking out against the glorification of the hero industry was able to convince us that what you were saying wasn't out of self interest." Shihiro said.

"Of course I caused all of this…" Hans muttered. "Of course I did. One bit of tampering with the storyline and it all goes to shit. Now, I'll have to clean up this mess. Canon has probably been disrupted way too much."

"Andersen-san…" Iida said, his arms chopping the air like a sushi chef chopping a particularly large cut of tuna. "I had no idea that your ideas were this influential!"

"...I was wrong, though." Hans muttered. "And I'm sorry. The hero system isn't just a glorified version of the police. Quirk laws and quirk discrimination isn't the only thing that's holding us back."

"So we were wrong this whole time?" Shihiro said, looking up from his position cross-legged on the floor. His skin bubbled and sizzled in an agitated manner. "We were just led by your ideals, and now, in front of us, you're just saying that we were wrong?"

"No, no." Hans said. "I'm saying that there is no right answer to the problem, even if change is definitely required. Even without quirks, there will always be more differences that people will arbitrarily create. They'll emphasize our differences to drive us apart. To put us in constant conflict while societal norms and the rules that they create keep benefiting them."

"Who's they?"

"That's the worst part." Hans said. "I don't know. And that's what scares me."

"I'm sorry." Iida said. "'But I'm incredibly confused. Do you mind filling me in?"

"Did you actually pay attention to why the villain on the bridge attacked?"

"It was like you said." Iida said. "Nobody cares about why the villain is doing something if they're blowing up a bridge."

"Exactly. And in this case, the villain on the bridge was enacting revenge because his daughter was molested on a bus line that ran through that bridge, and nobody did anything." Hans said. "Japanese society is rotten to the core, simply because of how much people put emphasis on not stepping out of line. This wasn't even about quirks, one of the most popular driving causes of villainy and discrimination these days. This was just good old fashioned Japan."

"...So you're arguing that by outlining a path to revenge through the previous examples of villainy, our society is willfully excluding the voices of the ones that we've hurt by branding them as villains and not listening to them at all?" Tensei said, crossing his arms and bringing one arm up to support his armored chin.

"That's just the obvious tip of the iceberg." Hans said. "Who knows what other crazy things that the hero system alone is doing to keep people in line?"

…

"We've captured a teenage serial killer." one suited man said to another suited woman. "Our division thinks that she'll be a useful asset."

"Why?'

"She's virtually off record. Her parents have disowned her. She's dropped out of school, and with her quirk… it's basically impossible to keep track of her normally."

"...Again, why?" the suited woman asked. "Get to the point."

"Her quirk allows her to disguise as anybody perfectly… as long as she's ingested their blood."

"Interesting." the woman said. "Let me see her."

"As you wish." the suited man said, leading her through the inconspicuous office building. Down a stairway and into what looked like a janitor's closet, she turned into a long, underground corridor.

There were cages everywhere. Problematic individuals were kept here with quirk-restraining cuffs. Delinquents with interesting quirks were bound with chains, suffering in silence now that the fight had been beaten out of them. Some gangsters were grouped in a cell, where they were being interrogated in turn for information on the local underground.

At last, the suited man opened a cell with a keycard, unlocking what looked like a slightly more pleasant room. The girl inside looked up, wearing a bloodstained schoolgirl uniform.

"Hello!" she said cheerily. "Are you here to ask about my latest boyfriend too?"

The woman solemnly nodded, while taking peeks at her file.

"I was looking for Mister Stainey, you know? But he disappeared! And I was just soooo bored, I ditched Dabi just to get a little snack. You understand, right?"

The file was mostly about this girl's quirk. It was a blood ingestion type, allowing for the copying of all physical features.

But it could potentially go deeper than that. Copying somebody's appearance with their genetic information via ingesting blood could mean that the quirk factor was copied as well.

Their last experiments had gone poorly. Trying to find somebody with an appearance copy quirk that also copied the quirk factor was hard, especially considering the fact that they wanted to bring their subject's power levels to All for One's level. All Might was on his way out, after all.

"And I just saw this guy! Like, he was so cute! Athletic and tall, and he even smiled back when I waved at him on the streets!"

However, this girl couldn't be a hero. Her quirk wasn't marketable at all, and it would probably only work if she operated in secrecy. However, given the fact that she had committed many homicides for what was basically no reason other than liking blood, that idea was quickly scrapped.

"So I really wanted to get closer to him, you know? To really get to know him! So I snuck into his home and cut him! He screamed for a moment, you know? And only for a moment. But then, he was just this.. Brilliant shade of red. I wanted to be just like him… be one with him, you know? So I gave it just a little taste… and things got out of control… and you guys caught me…"

And as for quirk factors to test her on, well… they had an entire holding cell of delinquents with dangerous and powerful quirks that were also ostracized by society, right?

Judging by the way that the girl talked, and how her parents had disowned her, it was really a matter of finding acceptance. She was more likely to drink the blood of the people she liked, too, given the creepy murder talk about stabbing a random high schooler.

"Hey, are you even listening, lady?"

A plan was coming to mind.

"I know exactly how you feel, Toga Himiko." the woman smiled. A slightly hypnotic effect radiated from her expression. Not strong enough to be noticed, yet strong enough to influence one's decision making. That was why she had been hired, after all.

"I know what you've been through. We've all been through something like that." she lied.

"You… you do?" the girl said, before chuckling. Toga Himiko leaned back and laughed. The chair she was sitting in shook and the chains tying her hands together rattled.

The woman's smile remained on her face, though it was becoming unnaturally stiff.

"You think that you know what I go through?" Toga chuckled, a rare moment of lucidity and seriousness crossing her face. "Look at where I am now because of my actions! I've been kicked out of my house, everybody that I've loved is dead by my own hands… and all I have to show for it is a bloodstained school uniform. Am I not the most unfortunate person?"

Now, the woman knew that it was the time to inject her own sob story. These kinds of complaints from mentally disturbed teenagers was, sadly, very common in their line of work.

"Nobody wanted to talk to me, you know…" the woman said with a rehearsed sad smile. "My quirk tends to… warp people that talk to me. I convince people faster. I can manipulate them better. And everybody thought I was a villain for it."

Toga was looking at her now, her slightly watery, yellow eyes staring unblinkingly at a person that possibly had a similar origin story as her.

Of course, the origin story was a lie. She had grown up pampered and spoiled by her family, thanks to a family that thought she was completely quirkless. Scouted for her manipulation and persuasion abilities, she was able to convince countless agents to work for the Hero Public Safety Commission.

"I was kicked out of my own house too, you know." she 'reminisced'. "And when I was at my lowest… just like you… locked up in a similar cell… They invited me to work for them. Just like I am inviting you now."

Toga began to cry. Coupled with the effect of her persuasion quirk, the similarity of the nonsense she spewed, and a chance at her supposed redemption… It was working.

Her quirk gave results. And so did the proven formula of talking to troubled teenagers. All you had to do was be relatively relatable to them, and they listened to you like a god. Just like angsty webnovel authors and youtubers.

"And don't worry. You, along with me and the rest of the people here, have all been targeted by society. But how would you be willing to be a part of something bigger."

"Am I in trouble?" the girl asked. For a moment, disregarding the bloodstains and the cuffs that she was in, the woman almost regarded her as an innocent child.

But this was a serial killer.

"No." the woman said, continuing on smiling. "We understand what you've been through. But if you join us, there'll be plenty of new friends. New people to fall in love with. And all. The blood. You can drink."

And this was for the greater good. Having somebody that could use multiple quirks was just too much to pass up on.

Her sacrifice would be worthy if it meant the continuation of the status quo.

AN

Oh, boy. More HPSC morally gray moments.

I mean, it makes sense. By taking people off the streets amidst the LOV kidnapping-to-make-nomus spree (and they have tons of nomu, so they probably have done a lot of kidnapping), they can secure even more agents.

I wonder where Hawks and Nagant came from, amidst countless other HPSC agents. They were probably either manipulated in, or just gaslighted or brainwashed. With quirks like Shinso's in the universe, along with the politician in the Meta Liberation Army's encouragement quirk… it isn't out of the question that something like this exists. And with access to the quirk registry and quirk doctor reports, somebody with a particularly strong quirk in persuasion would probably be scouted out by the Hero Association.

Oh, and Toga is the one that's being affected. I mean, given the fact that she kind of joined up with the LOV because of Stain, now that Stain has disappeared from the media on account of not killing any more heroes, she'll probably just wander off. Does this make sense?

Maybe. Idk lol.

And also Hans realizes how much he's impacted the world. He's created this weird plotline, and so, he'll be the one to end it.

Discord link: discord . gg / s2uFUydRVd