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1 - How It All Came to Be
After the Kamino incident, Class 1-A moved into the dorms for their safety. What no one accounted for was the sheer amount of chaos that could arise when you put twenty traumatized teenagers under one roof. Especially when at least six of them had chronic insomnia and far too much energy at 3:00 a.m.
Naturally, it all began with Class 1-A’s resident problem child.
Izuku couldn’t sleep — again. Insomnia loved to haunt him like a second quirk. This time however, instead of lying in bed counting sheep (or calculating villain capture strategies), he wandered downstairs into the common room.
He stood in the dark, just in front of the entrance, unmoving. Eyes glowing faintly as he let a flicker of his quirk activate for dramatic effect. Just waiting. Either for sleep or victims, he wasn’t picky.
Unfortunately, sleep didn’t come. Luckily, company did.
An hour passed with Izuku in the exact same spot, practically a glowing statue. Then Tsuyu padded into the room, presumably in search of a snack. She froze when she saw him, their glowing eyes locking across the shadows. She gave a nod, as if this was entirely normal, and silently joined him.
Her eyes glowed too — something about her quirk and being nocturnal. She never mentioned it. Izuku never asked (surprising both teens).
Twenty minutes later, Fumikage emerged for his nightly walk. He stopped dead in his tracks as two pairs of glowing eyes turned to meet him. A few seconds later a third pair joined them — glowing red, thanks to Dark Shadow’s influence.
He didn’t say a word. Simply joining the lineup.
Three sets of glowing eyes. Three teenagers unmoving, barely blinking, silently haunting the common room entrance.
Meanwhile, in another part of the dorms, Hitoshi stared at the ceiling and replayed an argument he lost three years ago. He sighed and rolled over. That gut feeling was back — the kind that made your hair stand on end and whispered go to the common room.
(“Always trust your instincts. It could mean the difference between life and death,” Aizawa’s voice echoed in his head.)
Hitoshi took the elevator. Because stairs? In the middle of the night? He wasn’t unhinged.
(He would later regret this choice.)
The elevator dinged; the doors slid open — three glowing sets of eyes greeted him like some kind of cursed welcome party.
It took everything in Hitoshi not to scream like a startled five-year-old. But he didn’t. He just sighed, muttered something under his breath, and walked in. His quirk made his eyes glow faintly too — a side effect of most mental-type quirks, apparently. The haunted lineup grew by one.
Upstairs, Shouto opened his eyes. He could hear footsteps through the door he’d left cracked open. Familiar patterns, familiar people. He wasn’t surprised.
He came downstairs, grabbed a glass of water, and walked straight past the glowing-eyed congregation to sit beside them. Then, with absolutely no expression, he lit a small flame in his hand to illuminate his face.
Now the common room had four glowing pairs of eyes and a floating face.
It looked like the world's worst horror movie poster.
Finally — as if summoned by fate itself — Kyoka stumbled into the common room at exactly 3:00 a.m.
She took one look at the glowing chaos in front of her and screamed.
To this day, no one knows how the entire dorm didn’t wake up. Somehow, everyone else slept through it like a bunch of bricks. Not even Bakugou stirred.
(Not far away, Nedzu cackled in his soundproof office, sipping tea and watching it all unfold through the security feed.)
Kyoka clutched her chest, glaring at all of them. “I have so much blackmail on you idiots. Everything that happened in the last ten seconds stays between us,” she growled. “If anyone breathes a word of this, I will end you.”
It didn’t matter. No one had planned on telling anyone else anyway.
Ruining the fun would be criminal.
“Got it,” they all said, in eerie sync, never breaking eye contact.
And just like that, the Insomnia Squad was born.
2 - A Private Room for Chaos
After that night, none of them needed to plan their next meeting. They just… showed up.
At around the same time, in the same spot, without saying a word. Izuku and Tsu didn’t even have to wait a full hour — only thirty minutes passed before all six members silently assembled like cultists under a full moon.
It wasn’t long before they realized communication could be a little easier if it didn’t rely solely on dramatic eye contact and psychic vibes.
So, naturally, they made a group chat.
Shouto (No)
Izuku (Bun on the Run)
Kyoka (Bluetooth)
Hitoshi (Shut Up)
Tsuyu (
🐸
Kero Kero)
Fumikage (Revelry in the Dark)
Dark Shadow (
👑
Favourite Child)
Bluetooth created the group “Sleep? Don’t Know Her”
Bluetooth added Bun on the Run,
No, Shut Up,
🐸 Kero Kero, Revelry in the Dark,
👑 Favourite Child
No – 2:12 AM
I’m bored. Let’s build a secret base.
Bun on the Run – 2:12 AM
OKAY YES I’M IN
do you want me to draw blueprints??
Bluetooth – 2:12 AM
dibs on lighting. i’m bringing my lava lamp.
this base is gonna be VIBES
Shut Up – 2:13 AM
as long as you don’t plug it in next to your speaker again
last time the room started buzzing and you said “it’s just the frequency of the void”
Bluetooth – 2:13 AM
okay and?? the void was calling me
y’all just scared of ambience
Bun on the Run – 2:13 AM
we could use the girls’ side of the dorms on the second floor
No one goes there at all since all the rooms are empty
No – 2:13 AM
i will supply snacks and perhaps a rug
🐸 Kero Kero – 2:14 AM
as long as Mineta isn’t able to sneak in
he asked if frogs hibernate in pairs last night and i’m not emotionally recovered
Shut Up – 2:14 AM
let’s install a fingerprint scanner
if it detects weird vibes, door stays shut
Revelry in the Dark – 2:14 AM
i ask only for a corner with shadows
i will not disturb you
👑 Favourite Child – 2:14 AM
bro you took my phone again
i was literally mid-crisps
Revelry in the Dark – 2:15 AM
your thumbs are slow
i type for us now
Bluetooth – 2:15 AM
lmfaoo give the bird her phone back
Bun on the Run – 2:15 AM
WAIT
why is her name Favourite Child now??
Shut Up – 2:15 AM
she changed it five minutes ago and announced “the prophecy is fulfilled”
👑 Favourite Child – 2:15 AM
the group needs balance
and a superior being
Revelry in the Dark – 2:15 AM
i have been dethroned
but she is strong
Bluetooth – 2:15 AM
queen behaviour tbh
👑 Favourite Child – 2:15 AM
correct! and i demand a snack throne
Bun on the Run – 2:16 AM
ooo a throne of ramen cup boxes
No – 2:16 AM
i’m still waiting for someone to ask about my name
🐸 Kero Kero – 2:16 AM
i assumed it was a cry for help
Shut Up – 2:16 AM
same
No – 2:17 AM
no. it’s because people ask me dumb things
and now i can just reply with “No”
like
“wanna go train at 5am?”
No.
“did you eat the last onigiri?”
No.
“do you know where Izuku went?”
No.
Bun on the Run – 2:17 AM
okay but that last one was actually shady
i was under a table hiding from All Might
Bluetooth – 2:17 AM
valid
🐸 Kero Kero – 2:18 AM
so who’s carrying the couch
Shut Up – 2:18 AM
not it
Bluetooth – 2:18 AM
Izu’s doing it. for ✨the aesthetic✨
Bun on the Run – 2:18 AM
i already picked it up
👑 Favourite Child– 2:18 AM
HE’S TYPING WHILE CARRYING THE COUCH
king
Revelry in the Dark – 2:18 AM
we ride at dawn
Shut Up – 2:18 AM
bro it IS dawn
Revelry in the Dark – 2:18 AM
exactly
now is the time of shadows
Roughly five minutes after deciding to convert a cluster of empty dorm rooms into their insomniac sanctuary, six sleep-deprived teenagers were crouched in the hallway of the second floor, girls' side, fully committed to the bit. Technically, it was past 3 AM. Realistically, none of them had slept more than four hours in two days. Spiritually, they were invincible.
And so began the most chaotic renovation UA had ever seen.
They got to work like a makeshift heist team. Izuku and Hitoshi started with “minor structural adjustments,” which was code for Izuku using One For All at 3% to carefully remove chunks of drywall while muttering about load-bearing walls. Shouto occasionally iced sections to keep them from crumbling.
“This feels illegal,” Kyoka commented as she stepped over a pile of bricks. She was holding a speaker in one hand and a roll of fairy lights in the other.
“It is,” Hitoshi deadpanned, dusting plaster off his hoodie. “But like, morally correct.”
Tsu and Fumikage were working on security. Mostly, this involved Tsuyu whispering “kero” every few minutes while she fiddled with wires she probably stole from Power Loader’s workshop, and Fumikage dramatically placing Dark Shadow by the stairs like a bouncer at a club.
“Dark Shadow will scream if anyone approaches,” he declared solemnly.
“Define ‘scream,’” asked Shouto.
“You’ll know when it happens.”
They agreed on a layout surprisingly quickly: four rooms, one entry point, multiple emergency exits (read: windows and suspiciously large vents), and no adult supervision. Aizawa would’ve cried if he knew. Maybe he already was. That’s why he had eyebags.
By 5:30 AM, the rooms were somehow liveable.
They were divided by curtains, each section with a purpose — and just the right amount of sleep-deprived absurdity.
The entrance was closest to the stairwell, disguised to look like a normal, empty room. The keypad glowed a soft blue, and beneath it was a wooden sign with their group chat name carved in elegant calligraphy (courtesy of Fumikage).
The passcode clue was a lie. Useless. As the real password changed daily, probably overboard but definitely necessary.
The first room had color-coded beanbags, mountains of blankets, ceiling LED strips, and fairy lights near the floor. A whiteboard, chalkboard, and bulletin board lined one wall — already cluttered with conspiracy theories, poetry quotes, and a very detailed timeline of Aizawa’s coffee consumption habits.
Another smaller whiteboard listed their seven commandments:
Rules (must follow):
- Don’t talk about the group.
- Don’t bring anyone in without unanimous consent.
- The vent tunnel is for emergencies (or hiding from Aizawa-sensei).
- Don’t touch other people’s stuff unless it’s in the community pile.
- Do not speak to Izuku, Tsu, or Hitoshi before caffeine, if you value your life.
- Shouto and Dark Shadow are the babies of the group.
- The password changes daily, whoever picks must relay it to the gc by 1a.m.:
- Monday – Izuku
- Tuesday – Tsu
- Wednesday – Dark Shadow
- Thursday – Fumikage
- Friday – Jiro
- Saturday – Hitoshi
- Sunday – Shouto
The second room held three bunk beds, one for each member. Dark Shadow got a ceiling swing. Because obviously. Desks lined the walls beneath, posters and photographs decorating plane walls. The only light came from lava lamps and glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. It felt like a slumber party and a bunker all in one.
By the time they finished setting up the third room—aka the ‘training zone’—Izuku had already drawn up a full emergency escape plan. It had four colour-coded paths and three contingency routes. One of them went through the kitchen and somehow involved Monoma’s shampoo.
They didn’t ask.
The room itself was only accessible through a crawlspace — to maintain soundproofing and because they could. It was their private training area for when they were too lazy to walk inside the school building. (They may be teenagers, but they still had to train if they wanted to be heroes). The area was stocked with equipment, mats, and a small fridge in the corner. This time the large window remained untouched, allowing the moonlight to seep in.
("Izuku, your quirk is not a flashlight."
"Let me dream, Hitoshi.")
The fourth and final room was sacred. Half music studio, half occult library. Jiro’s guitars and amps shared the space with Fumikage’s poetry collection, spellbooks, and very real candles.
No windows. No interruptions. Just peace, shadows, and Spotify Premium.
It was beautiful. It was cursed. It was home.
And if Endeavor’s credit card woke up missing half its balance?
Well. No one could prove it was Shouto.
And it’s not like the door could be burned down — it was literally designed to resist quirk-based attacks, just in case.
Maybe if sleep-deprived teenagers were in charge of security, UA would be a little safer.
“Oh yeah,” Hitoshi muttered, plugging in the final wire. “Try not to die in the vents. They’re bigger than they look but still a hazard.”
“Did you... carpet them?” Kyoka asked wearily.
“The rat god values comfort,” Hitoshi replied, like that was a normal answer. Izuku just nodded along, no one questioned it again.
At exactly 6:00 AM, they all collapsed onto their respective bean bags in silence.
“I can’t believe we actually did that,” said Kyoka, her voice muffled by a fuzzy blanket.
“I can,” said Izuku, sipping a suspicious energy drink. “Sleep deprivation is a hell of a drug.”
Shouto was the only one still upright. “Should we give the room a name?”
“Oh god,” Hitoshi groaned, already opening the group chat again.
3 - No Thoughts, Just Pranks
Prank #1 – Aizawa (Operation: Rise and Shine, Mr. Grumpy)
The plan was simple: wake Eraserhead up in the most annoying, yet technically non-expellable, way possible.
Execution? Not so simple.
It started with Kyoka sneaking into the teachers’ lounge under the guise of “retrieving forgotten headphones,” which was true — she just left them there on purpose. While she distracted Mic and played it cool, Tsuyu slipped a Bluetooth speaker under the couch where Aizawa slept like a deeply exhausted Victorian ghost just before going to patrol.
Back at the base, Hitoshi cued up the audio.
At exactly 1:01 AM, a terrifying mashup of “Mr. Brightside”, the Windows XP startup sound, and someone whispering “wake up babe new trauma just dropped” at full volume blasted through the speaker.
Aizawa did not move.
“I think he’s dead,” Kyoka whispered over comms (aka the group call).
“No,” Izuku replied, watching the teacher’s vitals via hacked security footage, “his eye twitched.”
Shouto calmly posted a screenshot of Aizawa’s sleep monitor flatlining like a horror movie.
Dark Shadow suggested a second wave: ten consecutive voice memos from Present Mic yelling “GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE.”
That one worked.
Aizawa rose like a sleep-deprived cryptid, stared directly into the camera he definitely knew was there, and sighed so loudly it registered on their decibel meter.
They added “Eraserhead sigh count: 347” to the whiteboard.
Prank #2 – Hawks (Operation: Fast & Featherious)
Messing with Japan’s Number Two hero was dangerous. Therefore, it was Izuku’s favourite plan.
The group exploited one thing: Hawks always parked his fancy hero bike in front of his agency, right next to a suspiciously bird-poop-free zone.
Using a complex combination of magnets, sticky notes, and one fake letter from Endeavor reading “please reconsider your fashion choices”, they rigged his bike.
Step one: they removed the seat and replaced it with a loaf of warm bread. Artisan, crusty. Fresh from the UA kitchen.
Step two: Tsuyu applied frog-safe slime to the handlebars. Just enough to make it feel wrong.
Step three: Kyoka stuck googly eyes on the headlights and put a Bluetooth speaker under the gas tank that auto played a ten-hour loop of “I Believe I Can Fly” whenever the ignition turned on.
The result? Hawks walked out with his usual smug strut, made direct eye contact with the bike, and froze.
Izuku, watching from a vent with night-vision goggles, whispered, “He knows.”
Hawks crouched. Touched the bread. Looked up. Smirked.
The bike exploded in a glitter bomb.
That part wasn’t planned.
Hitoshi turned to Izuku. “Did you install a glitter trap?”
“No…”
Long pause.
“…Did you?”
They never figured it out. Hawks left a sticky note on the base’s window later that read, “Nice work, kiddos. Your glitter aim needs work though. xoxo – Bird Dad.”
They framed it.
Prank #3 – Mineta (Operation: Purple Menace Exorcism)
Mineta’s sin? Breathing near Tsuyu. Again.
“I am once again asking for Mineta’s banishment,” Tsu said in monotone while pouring salt in a circle around a beanbag.
“He’s like a Funko Pop that gained sentience,” said Hitoshi.
Thus, the exorcism plan was born.
They waited until Mineta fell asleep in the common room (mouth open, no thoughts). Then they got to work.
Step one: Izuku drew a seal on the floor using glow-in-the-dark slime paint. Fumikage supplied the ritual candles. Dark Shadow held a bell and wore a sheet.
Step two: Shouto iced the door shut.
Step three: Kyoka set up the speaker to play Gregorian chants remixed with trap beats.
At exactly 2:22 AM, the chanting began. The candles flared. The circle glowed. And Dark Shadow, floating eerily above him, intoned:
“Foul purple goblin, leave this mortal shell.”
Mineta woke up mid-chant and screamed so loudly it triggered every motion sensor in the building.
When they finally let him out, he ran into the hallway, tripped over a mop bucket, and shouted something about “holy frogs” and “possessed laundry baskets.”
It was their finest work yet.
By the end of the week, three staff members were confused, Mineta was traumatized, and the group added a new rule to the board:
Rule #12: No glitter indoors unless absolutely necessary.
And below it, in smaller handwriting:
“Exceptions may be made for birds.”
4 -Just a Normal Night (Until It Wasn’t)
The base—unofficially named The Insomnia Society of No Parental Supervision, Lawlessness, and Vibes—was quiet that evening. Not suspiciously quiet, just… cozy. Someone had managed to string up more cheap fairy lights across the ceiling beams (probably Kyoka), and Shouto was microwaving exactly one (1) singular pizza roll with unsettling focus.
“You know this would go faster if you let me use my quirk,” he said, staring at the microwave like it had personally wronged him.
“I’m not letting you incinerate another snack,” Hitoshi replied, lounging across three beanbags. “Last time you turned my Hot Pocket into a war crime.”
“Just microwave it for another ten seconds,” croaked Tsuyu, sipping cucumber water like the embodiment of peace.
Izuku, currently balancing upside-down on the couch with one leg over the backrest and his phone in his mouth, made a vaguely affirming noise.
Fumikage and Dark Shadow were in the corner doing something that definitely looked like a summoning circle, but Fumikage claimed was “just ambient lighting preparation.”
No one questioned it.
Kyoka scrolled through her playlist. “Okay, I have exactly three hours of bangers and one cursed audio file that I accidentally downloaded from a conspiracy forum.”
“Play that one,” said everyone at once.
The speaker crackled to life. Gregorian chanting. In reverse. With heavy bass.
That was the moment things started to go sideways.
9:47 PM – The Chanting Begins
“I feel like I’m about to transcend,” said Izuku, still upside-down.
“You’re going to pass out and hit your head,” Hitoshi replied.
“Same difference.”
Shouto finally retrieved his lone pizza roll and held it up like Simba in The Lion King. “Behold. Dinner.”
Dark Shadow emerged from the corner, looking entirely too solemn. “She has spoken,” she said cryptically.
“Who’s ‘she’?” asked Tsuyu.
“The roll.”
Fumikage nodded. “We must listen to her wisdom.”
“…Okay,” Kyoka said slowly. “New game. Everyone has to offer something to the Sacred Pizza Roll.”
“Why does this feel like a cult?” said Hitoshi.
“It’s not a cult,” said Izuku. “It’s a community-powered spontaneous ritual of shared respect and mutual reverence.”
“That’s literally the definition of a cult,” said Tsuyu.
Too late.
They were already forming a circle.
10:02 PM – The First Offering
They turned off the lights, lit a single candle in the centre, and placed the roll gently on a plush blanket.
“This is so stupid,” Hitoshi muttered, but still handed over a sock ‘as tribute’.
Shouto placed his half-melted popsicle stick.
Kyoka added a guitar pick.
Tsuyu offered a cucumber slice.
Izuku dramatically pulled one of his notebooks from his hoodie and ripped out a single page: “An offering of unhinged thoughts and unprocessed trauma.”
Fumikage handed over a single black feather, whispered “for the darkness within,” and refused to elaborate.
Dark Shadow offered a Capri Sun.
The roll remained unmoved.
The vibe, however, shifted. Someone turned on a fog machine they definitely weren’t supposed to have.
10:27 PM – The Cult is Officially Born
Hitoshi looked up from where he was now lying face-down on the floor. “Okay, but real talk—if we were a cult, what would our whole aesthetic be?”
“Chaotic neutral with a hint of cottagecore and eldritch horror,” said Kyoka immediately.
“Crocs,” Tsuyu added.
Izuku nodded, eyes wide. “Yes. Matching lime green ones. For unity.”
“We’d worship the void,” Fumikage added solemnly. “And probably the pizza roll.”
Shouto, still holding said roll, shrugged. “I’m fine being your deity. But I will require naps and offerings of sugar.”
Dark Shadow scribbled something on the whiteboard:
“Cult of the Second Floor Society”
“Tenets: Respect the Roll. Fear the Glitter. Trust No Adults.”
“Should we get matching hoodies?” said Izuku.
“We already do,” said Kyoka, pointing at the pile of old stolen PE uniforms they’d ‘repurposed’.
They all looked at each other.
And just like that—without blood oaths, without chanting in Latin, without anyone meaning to—it was official.
The cult was born.
11:09 PM – Minutes of the First Cult Meeting
- Agenda Item 1: Design a sigil.
- Izuku sketched something that looked suspiciously like a cursed frog wearing sunglasses holding a glowing pizza.
- Everyone approved it instantly.
- Agenda Item 2: Shouto suggests a ritual sacrifice.
- Turns out he meant sacrificing the other half of the pizza roll.
- It is buried under a houseplant with full honours.
By the time midnight rolled around, they were all crammed into their weird little corner of the dorm, sipping juice boxes, covered in glowstick residue, and laughing so hard Kyoka nearly broke the speaker.
It wasn’t a real cult. Obviously.
But for a bunch of exhausted, chaotic teens with too much brainrot and not enough adult supervision… it kind of was.
And they liked it that way.
5 - Late Night Confessions
By the time midnight hit, the hideout was glowing.
Nestled into the abandoned corner of the second-floor girls’ dorms — still miraculously untouched by the rest of the class — their base had grown into something monstrous and cozy, all at once. The ceiling was webbed in tangled fairy lights and someone's old LED strip that flickered every time you stepped near the left wall. Layered blankets hung from the ceiling like tapestries, draped between chairs and curtain rods and possibly a very confused standing lamp that no longer stood.
They had a TV rigged up to an HDMI cable no one claimed ownership of, connected to Kyoka’s ancient laptop, which occasionally emitted a demonic whirr when loading Crunchyroll. Beanbags and stolen couch cushions made the floor feel more like a nest than a room. Someone had brought candles — probably Tsuyu, since they were oddly calming scents like lavender and "Midnight Bog."
Music played quietly in the background, a lo-fi mix that kept skipping to Gregorian chants. No one questioned it anymore.
They were draped across the floor like discarded laundry: Kyoka leaning back-to-back with Tsuyu, Izuku curled under a fort of throw blankets and betrayal, Hitoshi halfway inside a hoodie and cradling his phone like a lifeline, and Fumikage stroking Dark Shadow like a Bond villain.
It should not have worked.
And yet…
“You ever think about how weird this is?” Kyoka asked suddenly, breaking the silence. “Like, us. This group. We’re…so different.”
“Yeah,” Hitoshiu said, eyes still on his screen. “Feels fake. Glitch in the simulation.”
“No, seriously,” Tsuyu added, chin resting on her knees. “There’s no reason this bunch of people should be hanging out.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Dark Shadow. “I am the soul of this team.”
“Technically,” Fumikage said solemnly, “you are my soul. So, I take partial credit.”
“We are not debating soul rights again,” Kyoka groaned.
“But she’s right,” Izuku piped up, emerging from under a weighted blanket that had been slowly suffocating him. His curls were a mess and there was popcorn stuck in one. “We’re not the people anyone expected to click. If you asked me last semester who’d be my closest friends, I wouldn’t have said, like…” He gestured vaguely. “This chaos.”
Hitoshiu raised his hand. “I was fully committed to being the mysterious loner. And yet here I am. Being force-fed friendship.”
“No one in class has even noticed this happening,” Kyoka added, leaning her head against Tsuyu’s shoulder.
“I think Shoji knows,” Tsuyu said thoughtfully. “He’s too observant.”
“And Bakugo,” said Hitoshi.
They all paused.
“Yeah,” Izuku sighed. “He glares at me weirdly when I come back from meetings. He knows I’m up to something, but he can’t prove anything.”
“I like that for you,” said Kyoka.
Fumikage raised a mug solemnly. “To the bonds no one expected.”
Everyone clinked their own drinks, or snacks, or in Shouto’s case — a perfectly peeled mandarin he’d been quietly dissecting like a biologist.
Then someone — maybe Tsuyu, maybe Kyoka — said quietly, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
And the room went soft.
No jokes. No memes. Just silence thick with warmth.
That’s when Shouto, who had been staring pensively at the ceiling, asked, “What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever cried over?”
A pause.
“What?” Kyoka blinked. “Where did that come from?”
“I think it’s a good question,” said Tsuyu.
And so, the floodgates opened.
Hitoshiu started, revealing he once cried because his ramen fell and the egg landed upright, silently judging him. Kyoka confessed to crying at a commercial where a grandma got a gaming laptop and called her granddaughter on Discord. Fumikage said he sobbed the first time someone called him "cool" without sarcasm — everyone looked at Tsuyu.
Shouto, very seriously, said, “I cried during Shrek 2.”
“Wait where?” Kyoka asked, already laughing.
“The part where the king sacrifices himself. It’s moving.”
“…You mean when he explodes into glitter.”
Shouto nodded. “Powerful symbolism.”
Izuku hesitated. For a second, he looked like he wasn’t going to say anything at all.
Then:
“I cried because I thought Aizawa-sensei smiled at me once.”
He paused. “Turns out he was grimacing. There was a raisin stuck in his boot.”
Everyone stared.
Kyoka wheezed.
“I’m never letting you live that down,” Hitoshi promised.
“You already don’t let me live anything down,” Izuku muttered, pulling the blanket back over his head, trying to suffocate himself into oblivion.
Dark Shadow, now curled like a cat in Tsuyu’s lap, let out a dramatic sigh. “We are bonded by unhinged emotion and accidental vulnerability.”
Fumikage nodded proudly. “And caffeine.”
Eventually, they fell into a soft kind of silence. Not awkward — just comfortable. The kind that meant they didn’t need to say anything else to know what this space meant.
It wasn’t love.
Not quite family.
But something in between.
Something earned.
Outside the window, the moonlight pooled across the hallway floor, where no one else would ever see. Their own little world. A ridiculous, messy, weirdly sweet corner of the dorms.
And it was perfect.
+1 – Vigilante snack gathering
It all began, like most of their worst (and best) ideas, in the secret second-floor base with a simple, dangerous sentence:
“I want Takis,” Kyoka declared, dramatically flopping onto the floor. “And chocolate milk.”
“We have snacks,” Fumikage offered, holding up a dusty granola bar from his bag.
“That expired like three months ago,” Tsuyu said with a flat stare.
“Still edible,” he insisted. Dark Shadow disagreed loudly in the background.
Izuku, naturally, already had a plan. “I’ve mapped the safest route to the 24/7 store seven blocks down,” he said, pulling up a color-coded map on his phone. “We’ll go full stealth mode. Dress in layers, cover our hair, masks if you got ‘em—”
“You’re literally wearing a hoodie that says Vigilante in Comic Sans,” Hitoshi cut in, gesturing at Izuku, who was indeed proudly sporting the world’s worst stealth hoodie.
“Exactly!” Izuku beamed. “No one will suspect something so obvious!”
“…We are so getting caught,” Shouto mumbled, pulling on a ski mask with zero context and even less enthusiasm.
Their outfits were the stuff of fever dreams: Shouto with his hood on under his ski mask, Tsuyu in a frog-themed bucket hat, Kyoka in a black trench coat she probably stole from Aizawa, and Fumikage wearing literal cardboard wings because “Dark Shadow needs space to fly.”
They snuck out under cover of darkness with all the grace of raccoons in a trash can and were halfway to their destination — Bloc C — when Izuku’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at it, then immediately froze in his tracks.
Chimera Lord :) -
“Aizawa’s rerouting to Bloc C. Seems there’s been some suspicious vigilante activity. 😇”
Izuku paled. “Guys... Plan B.”
“What’s Plan B?” Tsuyu asked, already halfway up a streetlamp.
“Scatter and run!”
“Wait—”
Too late. They all turned, ready to sprint—
“Stop,” came a tired, soul-weary voice from behind them.
There stood Aizawa, wrapped in his scarf like a depressed burrito, one brow raised so high it could’ve flown off his face.
He looked them over in silence: one boy in a Vigilante hoodie, another with a frog bucket hat, cardboard wings rustling in the wind, and Dark Shadow trying to hide behind a telephone pole.
“This,” Aizawa said flatly, “is what I get for giving you all the benefit of the doubt.”
“Surprise?” Izuku offered weakly.
“You’re all getting detention. With Nedzu.”
A long beat of silence.
“...That’s it?” Hitoshi blinked.
Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t look so happy. I’m the one who has to deal with the fallout after Nedzu turns this into a bonding experiment or a documentary.”
He sighed deeply, running a hand down his face. “I haven’t had real food in 19 hours, and I am not babysitting you in the teacher’s lounge while writing reports.”
There was a pause.
Then:
“New plan,” he muttered. “There’s a 24/7 cat café three blocks from here. You’re all coming with me.”
“You’re… taking us to a cat café?” Kyoka asked, stunned.
“I cannot leave you hellions unsupervised, and I want soup. This is a compromise.”
“You called us hellions,” Shouto said, suspiciously touched.
“I regret everything.”
But nobody complained.
The group shuffled after him through the empty streets, cardboard wings flapping, hoodie strings blowing in the wind, as Aizawa led his mini-vigilante crew into the warm glow of the café.
The place was all sleepy cats, twinkling fairy lights, and the smell of miso ramen and cinnamon buns. Within minutes, they were crowded in a booth, hot drinks in hand, three cats sprawled across Shouto’s lap, and a particularly grumpy one glaring at Fumikage for unknown crimes.
“You really paid?” Izuku asked, sipping a lavender milk tea.
Aizawa grunted. “Enjoy it. This will never happen again.”
Dark Shadow was purring. Actually purring. “This is the best mission yet,” it murmured.
“No more missions,” Aizawa said.
“Got it,” Hitoshi replied, while leaning against Izuku who was already scrolling through potential code names for their next ‘mission’.
No one in the group said it out loud, but the cozy booth, shared pastries, and the rare peace made it clear: this strange little family of chaos had somehow become something real. They had gotten caught, punished, and rewarded in the weirdest, most wonderful way possible.