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It was six in the evening when Shouta walked into Heights Alliance to find all the kids, yes, every single one of them, in a big pile on the armchair, chattering amongst themselves. Not a single foot was touching the ground. The armchair wasn’t even that big. Twenty students—he counted—sitting one on top of the other, squeezed together precariously into the one chair. It was a miracle it hadn’t broken.
Asui, somehow perched on the side of the armchair—not on one of the arms, on the actual side —noticed Shouta first, her eyes going huge. She picked up a hand and patted a few people in alarm, who looked and winced, and suddenly his entire class went very quiet. A guilty sort of quiet.
Shouta looked at his students. His students looked at him. The silence was long and deafening.
To this day Shouta couldn’t decide whether his students were geniuses or idiots—he suspected a strange combination of both. But it appeared that one of his genius/stupid kids had decided to try to pack as many people as possible onto this one arm chair. And his genius/stupid class had managed to get every student in the class onto the chair. Every single student.
There was, he noted, tape involved. Poor Koda was covered in it.
“What’s going on?” Iida’s voice asked from somewhere within. “It got very quiet.”
Someone whispered answers to him.
“Sensei!” he shouted. “I can explain!”
Shouta neither needed nor wanted an explanation. He wanted and needed retirement.
Somehow perched on the smallest space of the arm of the chair, defying physics, Ashido said, “Could you go get Kendou for us? We think we can fit more people.”
“Actually, we’ll need most of 1-B,” Jirou said from Shouji’s arms.
“No,” Shouta said, and he turned around and walked back out of the building. It was too early for this. Much, much too early.
Behind him, he heard a crash and a few screams.
He shut the door.
It started like this:
Kaminari had been sitting in the armchair in the common room, and he had been cold, and Sero had thought if he sat next to Kaminari, it would warm him up. It did not, because Sero ran cold and was part tape dispenser, and so Kirishima, who was like an entire furnace all on his own, also got into the chair.
Mina, “working on homework” with Tooru on the coffee table nearby, found this very inspiring. The armchair was decently big—big enough that although they were undoubtedly squished, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero had all managed to squeeze in next to each other on it, shoulders crammed together.
“This isn’t helping at all,” Kaminari said. “Now I’m just uncomfortable.”
Mina hopped to her feet before they could start untangling themselves. “How many people,” she said, “do you think we can fit into this armchair?”
Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero stared at her. But there must have been something in her eyes—the light of a great idea, the spirit of adventure, the curiosity of an alien—because a huge, slightly evil smirk spread across Kaminari’s face and he said, “At least five.”
“Tooru,” Mina said, patting her on the head (or trying to—her hand actually just clipped the edge of Tooru’s ear, but it was close enough), “come with me.”
Tooru and Mina climbed onto the back of the armchair.
So it was at least five.
“What we need is an engineer,” Sero said.
Mina pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I’m texting Yaomomo.”
Momo didn’t know what she expected when she walked into the common room (Mina’s text had not been very explanatory). However, she did know what she didn’t expect, and that was Mina, Hagakure, Kaminari, Sero, and Kirishima all on the big green armchair.
“Yaomomo!” Mina cheered. “We’re performing an experiment.”
Momo enjoyed experiments more than she would readily admit. The statement drew her closer, although this armchair and, more accurately, the presence of these five minds inside the armchair, terrified her a little bit.
“We want to find out how many people we can fit in this armchair. So far we know it’s at least five.”
Momo stopped short. She tried, desperately, to stop her brain from reaching for the answer to that question, to nip her curiosity in the bud before she started engaging in something she might regret later. But answers swirled before her regardless, and further questions, and a hypothesis that they could get the whole class on the chair if they really tried.
Her mouth, in the end, was what betrayed her. “We’ll need some more people,” it said. And she wept, internally, at the damage this was doing to her trustworthiness as Class Vice President. She wept. But Aizawa didn’t need to know they were doing this, and it was important to socialize.
“I’m texting people as we speak,” Hagakure said.
“Not the group chat, though,” Mina said. “This is a private event.”
“Of course,” Hagakure said. “The main thing is how long can we keep this up before Iida tries to stop us?”
“That is the main thing,” Mina agreed.
Ojirou walked around the corner down by the elevators. “I got Tooru’s text,” he said. “What’s going on?”
Momo managed to engineer four more people onto the chair. Herself, Ojirou, Satou, and Aoyama. So then there were nine. There was definitely room for more.
Kyouka came around the corner to the elevators and froze, frowning all the way past the kitchen to the armchair. Momo waved at her guiltily from where she sat on one of the arms. This wasn’t something she was proud of, no. But she needed to prove herself, really, and it was in the name of science.
“I’m not getting involved in this,” Kyouka said, but she drew closer anyway. It was hard to look away from disaster, especially the type of disasters 1-A usually caused. Momo had been pulled in too—it was unavoidable.
“Involved in what?” Midoriya’s voice asked, and his head poked around the corner. His eyebrows furrowed. Momo’s face started to heat up in shame. This was very irresponsible of her, and now she’d been caught in the act by someone she respected.
“This is the end, men,” Kirishima sighed. “Midoriya will put a stop to it.”
“No way he will,” Mina said. “He’s going to dig the shit out of this.”
Unfortunately, she was probably right.
Mina explained the situation to Midoriya, and Todoroki who trailed through the kitchen behind him. Kyouka sat on the couch, remaining true to her promise not to get involved. She caught Momo’s eye, a question in her expression. Momo pursed her lips and gave her a little helpless shrug. It was for science. She couldn’t say no. Kyouka’s gaze sharpened a little, a familiar focus coming into them.
“What’s the rule on quirks?” Midoriya asked, already circling the chair. Taking this as permission to continue the experiment, Momo climbed down to take another look at it. They could definitely fit more people on it.
“We hadn’t really made one,” Mina admitted. “But let’s say we’re allowed to use mutant quirks to help, but not emitters.”
“Right,” Midoriya squinted at the remaining eight on the chair. “Right, that makes sense.” He got out his phone. “We need more people.”
“Yeah, why haven’t you texted the group chat?” Satou asked from the arm of the chair. Aoyama, squished sideways behind Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero, made a noise seconding the question.
“Iida,” Mina sighed.
“Oh, that’s easy.” Midoriya said, phone already out. “I bet Uraraka can get him on board. And then we need Shouji. And Tokoyami. Can someone sit on your tail, Ojirou?”
Ojirou waved it. “Definitely.”
“Oh,” Momo gasped. “Shouji. Of course.”
“He’s like an armchair all on his own,” Mina said. “Genius. You’re a genius, Deku.”
Midoriya’s face turned a delicate shade of pink. He stuttered out a quick, “Thanks,” and turned away, typing furiously. Todoroki watched the proceedings stone-faced.
“We could just tape people to the chair,” Kyouka said suddenly. How quickly those who claimed to not want to be involved got involved. “Sero’s quirk is a mutant type, right?”
“Oh my god,” Mina breathed. “It is. Kyouka. I could kiss you.”
Sero shot some tape out of his arms. “Up for grabs.”
“All right, everyone get off the chair,” Momo said. “We can arrange by size.”
“I love you all.” Mina hopped off the back of the chair. “Let’s do this thing.”
Everything fell into chaos with alacrity, or, in other words, with the arrival of Bakugou Katsuki. Ochako stood in the corner with Deku, Yaomomo, Shouji, and Tokoyami, helping them sketch out plans for how to fit everyone on the chair as Bakugou arranged people manually, ordering people around and trying different combinations. They’d decided smaller people would go on top, so Ochako, Jirou, and Tooru would probably be in Shouji’s arms by the end of this.
“I think we can use Dark Shadow as support for Shouji, since holding that many people won’t be good for your back,” Deku said. “If—” He gave Tokoyami a nervous look. “If that’s okay with her, I mean.”
“It’s fine,” Tokoyami said, Dark Shadow nodding in agreement behind him.
“Okay, then here,” Yaomomo said, presenting a pretty good sketch. “I think something like this should work.”
Deku looked it over, pinching his bottom lip.
“Where are Shinsou and Koda?” Ochako asked.
“They didn’t come when summoned,” Tokoyami said gravely.
Ochako looked at Deku, who looked at Bakugou.
“Right,” Ochako said. “I think I have a really good task for our class pomeranian.”
Deku choked. “Don’t call him that.”
Ochako was already marching away. “Hey, Bakugou!” she called, and he stopped ordering Kirishima into place long enough to glare at her. “I think we can fit the whole class on here, don’t you?”
He scowled. “And?”
“We need Shinsou,” she said. “And Koda.”
He looked around the room for them, but they were both inconspicuously absent. Ochako had had to count twice to verify that they weren’t here. He seemed to be doing the same thing. “Go get them, then.”
“They won’t listen if I do it,” she said. “It has to be you. Unless you don’t think you can convince them to come? I could ask Deku to get them instead—”
“I’ll go fucking get them,” he snapped. “Geez.” He shoulder-checked her on the way by, storming off to find them.
Ochako watched him go, trying not to look too satisfied with herself.
Mina laughed and Ochako turned to see that she’d been watching the whole interaction with her hawkish gossip-seeking eyes. Ochako pursed her lips, a little embarrassed, but Mina just gave her a little punch on the arm, smirking. “You, Miss Ochako,” Mina said, “are one manipulative bastard.”
Ochako grinned. “I try my best.”
“Right, okay,” Deku said, and just like that everyone was looking at him, waiting for instructions. How he managed to do that, Ochako would never figure out. “We’ve made a blueprint of sorts. Do you mind if we start putting people in place?”
“Direct away,” Mina said, gesturing at the chair.
Shouji was placed on the top of the armchair, arms spread out. Within his arms were placed Ochako, Tokoyami, and Jirou. Dark Shadow curled around Shouji’s back to give him extra support.
Iida was put in Aoyama’s old position, sideways in the back of the chair, and Aoyama was put on top of Iida. For the sanctity of the sacred original arrangement, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero were placed in their original positions crammed side to side on the front of the armchair.
“This is horrific,” Jirou said.
“Incredibly impressive, you mean,” Tooru said, climbing up to sit next to Shouji.
Koda trailed in. “Bakugou yelled at me,” he murmured.
“Do you mind if we tape you to the side of the chair?” Yaomomo asked politely.
Koda looked at the situation before him, at the masses of eyes looking at him expectantly. He nodded in assent.
Deku held him up and Yaomomo taped him to the side of the chair.
Ojirou and Satou were put on one of the arms, and Mina, Todoroki, and Yaomomo were put on the other, Mina perching on the very end in an incredible display of flexibility and strength. Asui climbed on the side of the chair and stuck there without issue.
Bakugou carried Shinsou into the room. Literally carried him, like a sack of potatoes. Shinsou looked incredibly pissed off, and Ochako honestly thought he needed to get into the spirit of things. What was 1-A without some chaos! They needed to see if they could get the whole class onto this armchair. It was looking very likely.
Bakugou deposited Shinsou in between the stack of Iida and Aoyama and the backs of Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero. He did this without much concern for the health of Shinsou, more of a glorified drop than anything else, and Shinsou fell unhappily into place.
“What is wrong with you people?” he grumbled.
“Welcome to the class!” Mina cheered.
“You can sit on Ojirou’s tail?” Deku suggested to Bakugou. “Or I can do it and we can tape you to the side.
“I’ll sit on the fucking tail,” Bakugou snapped and climbed up to do so.
“No, wait,” Yaomomo said. “Switch places with Tooru. She’s at the top by Shouji—that’ll be better because she’s lighter.”
Bakugou grumbled something about not being told what to do, but did crawl up the back of the chair. Tooru hopped down and climbed up again onto Ojirou’s tail, her legs dangling off the side, nearly brushing Asui’s back.
“That’s everyone, then,” Deku said.
“You’re not on here yet,” Mina said.
“Oh.” Deku climbed up behind her and plopped down on Todoroki’s lap. “ That’s everyone then.”
A moment passed where no one seemed to know what to say or do. And then:
“Holy crap, we did it,” Kaminari whispered. “We really are the most competent heroics class in the world. Do we deserve a trophy? I think we do.”
“It’s not even that precarious,” Yaomomo said. “I feel very stable.”
“I feel like we can fit more people,” Kirishima noted. “There’s room on our laps.”
“And I have more tape,” Sero said. “We could use the back of the chair too.”
“Should we text 1-B?” Mina asked, getting out her phone to do so. “Monoma?”
A long, disapproving silence followed.
“Maybe not, then,” Mina said. “Oh, I have Kendou’s number!”
Several noises of assent sounded.
“You’re all crazy,” Shinsou grumbled.
He was ignored.
“Um, guys,” Ojirou said.
They all quieted, looking up. There stood their very own teacher. Aizawa in the flesh. Ochako felt her heart rate jump several levels. Everyone stared at Aizawa in silence, and Aizawa stared back at them, expressionless in a very foreboding way.
“What’s going on?” Iida’s voice, muffled by Aoyama, asked. “It got very quiet.”
Aoyama hissed an explanation.
Ochako resonated deeply with the panic in Iida’s tone as he yelled, “Sensei! I can explain!”
Aizawa closed his eyes in denial and disappointment. Ochako suddenly couldn’t remember why they had decided to do this. It had seemed so important at the time.
Mina, much braver than Ochako could ever be, said, “Could you go get Kendou for us? We think we can fit more people.”
“Actually, we’ll need most of 1-B,” Jirou said next to Ochako.
“No.” Aizawa turned around and left.
As he opened the door, Ochako felt something give underneath her.
“Oh no,” Tokoyami said.
That was all the warning anyone got before the entire back of the chair broke off and half of the class went crashing to the ground.
Ochako took a dazed moment to make sure all her limbs were intact, and then Shouji’s limbs, slowly extracting herself from underneath Iida and Aoyama, who had both tumbled down with the back of the chair.
The door shut behind Aizawa. He’d left them there. Ochako couldn’t even be surprised—they’d be lucky if he wasn’t headed straight for Nedzu’s office to quit.
“I hate you all,” Bakugou declared, climbing out of the wreckage.
Mina snickered, still perched on the edge of the arm. “No, that was awesome.”
“How many people,” Todoroki asked suddenly from where he’d fallen to the floor, “do you think we could fit on the part of the chair that isn’t broken?”
A silence fell.
“I suppose,” said Yaomomo tentatively, “there’s really only one way to find out.”