Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mom was about half as ADHD as he was. That was probably why she remembered to tell him to leave early, and set an alarm.

BUT THE KICKER HERE IS HE DID LISTEN. Denki’s just not blessed by Mnemosyme and got lost.

Look. In his defense, Mom was supposed to have chosen a new house that was close to UA for easy travel, save a fifteen-minute walk if you weren’t sprinting to ‘motivate him to wake up early to get on time’. But he hadn’t taken her other suggestion, which was to at least go UA once from the new house so he knew the way, and Denki had ended up mobbed when he made the mistake of a front street, and that cost time, and so. Late. Awesome. Totally not terrifying.

His phone vibrates incessantly in his pocket—probably messages from Jiro. Denki doesn’t check as he leaps over a trashcan to slide into a back alley, shortcutting his way hopefully to the right place. His hair slips a bit into his eye and Denki huffs but doesn’t fix his hairpin. Though that starts a spiral; did I forget my earrings? My backpack? My wea—

“ARROOOOO!”

Denki glances up and yelps. His soles squeak in protest at the sudden stop to prevent the crash into the hellhound at the end of the alley. He curls his fists, nails digging into his palms, and glares at the ten-foot-long beast blocking him from school.

It lunges for him, and Denki springs back several metres with a burst of wind, heart thrumming as glittering claws swipe close. His mind always blanks with fear for a second at the sight of monsters or villains—he isn’t the type of freak excited for a fight—but hellhounds are different. There’s usually a backstory behind the unique monster every demigod hates, and he’s no exception, even if it’s not a special one.

He’ll need to finish this quickly, for the sake of his school uniform, cleanly, and for the sake of his rage, satisfyingly.

His fingers run over the bronze bar embedded into his ear—okay, that’s one accessory he knew he didn’t forget—and yanks it out. It settles into an athletic baton as he spins it in his hand, ducking under another swing from the hellhound. The Celestial bronze glows as he charges the weapon with several thousand volts of electricity, and he hurls it in a curving throw that bounces off the alley walls at angles he calculates.

It strikes the hellhound, and in a burst of golden dust, Denki’s coated in its remains.

“Oh, Hades. No offense, Nico’s dad.”

With a grumble, Denki breathes out harshly enough to sweep the worst of it off him, and most importantly, his face, with a gust of wind. He clicks the lightning symbol etched in the center of the baton, and the metal shutters in on itself back to earring form. He runs a quick check on the rest of his earrings as he slips his weapon back into place and returns to a run—baton in right cartilage, right lobe stud, left lobe stud, left double helixes, dark black ribbon choker. Denki sighs in relief as he glimpses the UA gates in the distance. Thank Aphrodite.

The halls are deserted, likely because he’s late and everyone is in class as they should be. Denki tries not to scream when he throws the 1-A door open with a clattering sound and it’s empty.

He must’ve missed them leaving for the opening ceremony.

Denki claps a hand over his mouth and chomps. The marks are already fading as he drops his hand to pull his phone out.

Guitar Slayer: where are you??
Guitar Slayer: Kaminari I will poke my jack into your eye don’t test me.
Guitar Slayer: THE TEACHER’S HERE
Guitar Slayer: We’re probably moving tocdevfr4bgt5
Guitar Slayer: This is your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shota.
Guitar Slayer: Arrive quickly and locate us if you wish to remain unexpelled.

Aizawa-sensei’s message had been sent seven minutes ago. Oh, amazing. Denki breathes harshly enough for the door to thump against the wall a second time and slips his phone back into his pocket. He squints at the teacher’s desk—is that a sleeping bag??

“Hey!”

Denki turns to see a fairly cute girl with a side-tail, standing against the door. “Late? 1-A left faster, Vlad-King-sensei says their homeroom teacher does that. Though you shouldn’t slam the door for your own mistake.”

Oh, she was probably from 1-B. “I got caught up in a villain attack. Wasn’t lost and rerouting on purpose,” Denki huffs, gesturing to the monster dust still clinging to his uniform. “Could you point me before I get expelled?”

“You won’t be expelled for being late, but you can stick with 1-B to head to the entrance ceremony.”

“...Okay. And you should read my teacher’s threat.” Denki holds out his phone as he steps towards the classroom exit, her eyes squinting at the screen. He realizes his mistake but doesn’t take it back.

She exclaims when they’re out of the classroom, at least.

“Wait, you’re Kaminari Denki?”

Her eyes flash over him with a new silent judgement. “So that’s why you looked familiar…”

“I’m assuming you at least watched Miraculous: Awakening if you know me in passing? I voiced Adrien in English, Japanese and French dubs.” He can’t help but grin. It was his proudest crowning achievement—especially since Chat Noir was his favourite fictional badass of all time, and unfortunately, Denki still wasn’t clear to show off the weapon he had on him.

“My friend pulled me to watch it, in French. You performed well, I didn’t realize you weren’t French until he showed me your photo.” The girl glanced over him again. “He thought the rumour of a famous model going to UA was false, though.” The so did I colours her tone.

Denki doesn’t seethe. She’s not even the first to think so, after all. “Well, I passed the same test as everyone else, and I did it masked so I got my points fairly.”

“And so you weren’t recognized?” The girl guesses before stepping into her classroom to talk to her homeroom teacher.

That, and I did want to get in without anyone questioning if it was for my looks.

While waiting, Denki pulls his hairpin free to study it. No damage—glittering diamond, golden frame, all intact. He slots it back and tugs his left bang free of his vision properly. It’d never bothered him until he’d started needing 20/20 after turning thirteen.

The 1-B door slams open.

“YOU NEED TO GET TO THE PE GROUNDS NOW!”

A Pro Hero dressed in a skintight red suit Denki really doesn’t know where to look at, curse omnisexuality, shrieks at him, startling static off him. “Wh-what?”

“Aizawa always completes a quirk apprehension test today at the P.E. Grounds. If you enter the main gate and turn left, they’re found on the side of the main school building. You need to run, kid—he’s serious when he says he’ll expel you!”

Denki doesn’t hesitate.

He takes off, and only after he’s out of Pro Hero sight, slams the go button on his powers.

Understandable logic, at least for demigods, drove the concept behind them. For example, as the son of Poseidon, Percy Jackson gained energy from, and was healed by, and was able to control, water.

Apply the same concept to him, as a son of Zeus, save the revision that made his water, electricity.

With a surge, Denki taps into his reserves and clears the corridors in jumps he’s careful to muffle for the sake of avoiding reprimands that’ll get him expelled if Aizawa doesn’t. The first year classrooms begin at the fourth floor due to the size of the UA population, and Denki skips the elevator to jump straight down the stairs. He rolls to save his feet and twists to leave the stairwell, and begins to run through the stupid corridor Labyrinth.

Denki lets go of his Quirk when he leaves the main building—blessed to have not run into anyone. He sprints for the field that comes in sight—

“DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

The sound of an explosion bursts through the air, and smoke erupts from the field. Denki does not scream, even if it’s very much a what the fuck he usually saves for Mei’s explosions, and uses the cover to give himself a final burst.

He spots Aizawa-sensei immediately, and at the same time loses all his remaining respect for the man.

The state of his hair makes Denki want to show him shampoo, and combs, and mR PRO HERO HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF FACE CREAM. He slides to a stop and tries to careen into a respectful bow, only tripping over his feet.

He ignores the snorts, laughs, and annoyed mutters from his classmates—and Jiro, springing back to his feet to bow forty-five degrees to, somehow, not the worst-dressed person he’s ever met.

“I apologize for my lateness, Aizawa-sensei. I was caught up in a villain attack—”

“You mean a mob of your fans, Kaminari Denki?”

Gasps, loud and soft, erupt from his class. Denki doesn’t look, but he does press his nails into his palms. “Both. The mob first, the villain after.”

“Aizawa-sensei, how’d you know that?”

“Wait, who’s—”

“A famous international model, he travelled for thirteen years!”

“Do you think your fame gives you—” Denki cuts him off.

“No, sensei. I left on time.”

His teacher’s silent, ruminating, but Denki doesn’t try to look at his class for hints to what he’s been like thus far. This teacher’s nothing like his tutors, middle school senseis, or Chiron. Unfortunately, he’s giving Denki a vibe like Dionysus—unfair and quick with the cutting judgment.

“Throw this.”

He glances up in time to catch a softball. Denki frowns at it.

“Quirk’s allowed.”

Oh snap. Denki jogs to the throwing area as a blond, incredibly smoking hot—literally and figuratively—slender boy steps back, scowling at him. Denki drops his bag and blazer, loosening his tie and undoing the top buttons of his school shirt. It’s stiff, but not excessively so, and he rolls up his right sleeve, rotating his arm to loosen up.

No time to fuel the whistles from the peanut gallery, which he’d usually enjoy—and check to see if Jiro was paying attention. Denki breathes in one sharp, whistling breath.

Pass this to stay.

He throws.

Wind picks up, then the force of a tornado hits the ball, sending it flying. Denki’s grinning for all of a second before he remembers to school his face.

Aizawa-sensei holds up his recorder with a beep.

1459.6m

“WHAT?!” The smoking hot blond explodes with a shriek. Considering he’d been standing where Denki was now, he’d probably gotten a smaller record. And considering the reaction, there went a chance at scoring any future dates.

He can’t resist a hair flip anyway.

Murmurs break out from his class, and brimming with confidence, Denki glances at them.

They’re a varied bunch, as expected, with almost all of their lesser-than-he-expected girls visibly recognizing him. The boys are muttering or gaping, with a few blushing, and Denki takes note of the attractive ones. Jiro’s face is schooled, but her eyes have widened, and her hair falls over her probably-red ears but not the jacks whirling at her shoulders.

“Do I pass?”

“Get in line. I’m evaluating your potential—use your Quirk through all of the standard tests, and if you’re last, you’re expelled.” Aizawa-sensei waves his hand boredly, and still Denki doesn’t scream even as his future starts to disappear again.

He feels the blood dribbling down his palm, and hastily hides it.

“Understood.”

He picks up his blazer and backpack, passes his class, and places his backpack against the wall with their water bottles. Denki removes his tie entirely and stacks both clothing articles on top of his backpack after folding—wrinkles would be annoying to deal with later.

His hands hesitate at his shirt buttons. His undershirt was black and thin, and usually Denki enjoyed attention, but not during life or death stakes—hero future or model forever. He leaves it on.

Two classmates are sprinting in the 50-metre dash when he joins the class—huh. If that was the first test, I hope I’m not retested when the softball throw comes around.

“Students 07 and 08.” Aizawa-sensei’s lazy call.

Shoot, before his classmates could even notice him. Denki smiles as they part, not answering any mutters or spotting Jiro—and the guy with a really sick red hairstyle who was blushing joins him at the start line. He’s cute, wouldn’t make a bad date—

Shit, no! Ugh, he needed to focus. Being first wouldn’t be sad, either.

He charges himself with electricity from his reserves, about ten thousand volts, and bends down as excess dances across his skin. Great. I’d have conserved more energy with the hellhound if I knew this was happening. Wait, no. I’d never conserve with hellhounds.

“Go.”

Denki earns a great 3.79 seconds, up from middle school at 5.43, clearing quickly off the field to shoot a smile at redhead as he, thankfully, seems to take it encouragingly. “Your Quirk control is amazing,” he praises, and Denki’s smile freezes on his face.

…

What?

He didn’t say ‘you looked pretty doing it’ or ‘you have a pretty face’ or ‘nice job, pretty boy?’

“Huh?”

“Uh, is it easy for you or something?” Redhead asks.

Denki gapes at him.

“Students 09 and 10.”

“Um.” Denki’s mouth opens and shuts. “So, no one’s actually praised me for that before? But it takes constant training?”

“...Huh. Well, you put in a lot of effort, right? So it seems like they should!” Redhead grins sharply at him, showing spiky teeth. “I’m Kirishima Ejiro!”

“Den—sorry, Kaminari Denki.” Denki glances away from him as two girls ambush them from the class—though one greets Kirishima instead. “You did great, Kirishima!” A pretty and pink, fluffy-haired girl compliments, and Kirishima smiles and thanks her.

“Could you sign my forehead?” The girl who greets him—she has an invisibility Quirk—asks, and Denki smiles at her instead. “Well, I think I can sign somewhere else later, since we’ll be classmates.”

The invisible girl huffs. “Not when I fail and get expelled. My Quirk’s not good for fitness tests. But I have a plan—depending on what I can get away with.”

Denki, unfortunately, hadn’t even thought of that. His stomach sinks. The invisible girl must’ve been smart—and fast—to get in the normal way, but now Aizawa was screwing her over with this. But if she wasn’t expelled, someone else would be.

How do you avoid the last place getting expelled?

“Does anyone have the fitness test metrics?”

“I have the girls’ memorized. Not the boys’, sorry.” A stunning beauty raises her hand, hair pulled back in a sleek, gorgeous ponytail, the sort of pretty one could never call her features plain.

Denki clicks his tongue. “Okay. We need both. If we don’t want anyone here to fail.”

That catches the attention of his classmates, as Aizawa calls “13, 14.” and two guys break away. “What do you mean, man?” Kirishima asks, and Denki grabs the hooking question. “The only way for last place to not fail is if the last two places are tied.”

“And if he just expels both?” asks a tall, masked, mysterious guy. Denki hopes that was just rational questioning and not fear, because he didn’t date cowards who threw others out of safety.

“It’s a ruse either way. He won’t really expel us on the first day.” Ponytailed girl folds her arms, but Denki frowns at her. “Do you want to take that chance?”

She’s silent, though his classmates have begun to mutter assent. Denki doesn’t grind his teeth, though he does sink his nails into the flesh of his palm. If it wasn’t for his electricity healing, he would’ve been scarred long ago.

What are the rules here?

“15, 16.”

Invisible girl’s shoulders shake. She steps towards the field, but Denki grabs her shoulder.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Oh gods was he happy she was a fan.

Aizawa’s glanced up. Denki makes it quick. “Then later, just run.”

“Okay.” And she moves to the start line.

Denki pushes himself to the front to watch.

Reasonable number, reasonable number…

“Go!”

With a controlled surge of wind, he propels her forward—thankfully, the shriek could be attributed to the ice blast that erupted next to her. She practically skips from the end line over.

“4.34 seconds.” She gasps giddily, and Denki watches her arms and quickly steps back. “Sorry, um—not a fan of hugs. But that’s great!”

“Oh, sorry—but thank you! So much!” The girl celebrates, and Denki smiles at her before glancing up at Aizawa.

He’s not looking at them.

Denki breathes in, then out, and turns back to the class. Before turning back to the invisible girl. “Sorry, you never said your name?”

“Oh! I’m Hagakure Toru.”

“Right. Hagakure-chan has an invisibility quirk, so she’s worried she’ll be last. I’ll help her tie with last, so no one’s expelled. Are any of you worried that you’ll be last?”

…What about Jiro?

Denki sorted through all his Quirk-related memories with her. Earphone Jack might not be useful in tests like these, though she was still the person that he knew to have the most potential to be a Hero. Though he probably shouldn’t single her out…

“Me!”

Denki has to look down to spot a short classmate with purple balls for hair, which sets off an itch to ask about a haircare routine. He’s sobbing, the picture of desperate. “Mineta Minoru. My quirk’s Pop Off. I can remove these—” He pulls one of the balls off his head, and it regrows near instantly. “—and they’re real sticky, but I can only think of one test that’d help me in!”

“Got it. You think you’ll be last?”

“Definitely!”

Denki hopes he’s not lying. He glances about for Jiro—

“Are you actually entertaining this?!”

A tall, glasses-wearing thick utterly peabrained musclehead strides up to him. “You’re giving them scores unearned with their own merit!”

“I’m making sure that crazy doesn’t expel anyone!” Denki fires back, scowling at him—not a full scowl, closer to a frown on anyone else, but enough to show his displeasure while staying pretty.

“Then I’ll inform him of your cheating!”

Hagakure makes a panicked sound and Mineta moans in fear. Denki sticks out a foot to stop him. “You think he’ll believe you?”

“Of course!”

“And what if I say you’re lying to discredit me, because we all saw I’m fast and strong and—” Engines in his legs, take a bet. “—you’re worried about me as competition? Who will he believe?”

“The student who was early.”

Oh, that was it.

“No, because here’s a lesson for you, Rules-san. There are two types of power in this world, and that’s Quirks and beauty. I’ve got both in more than spades. It doesn’t matter how many forty-five minutes I’m sure you were early—” he splutters, so Denki must’ve hit the mark. “—because guess what, envy is always the first jump when it’s someone with both versus someone with one. And if you want to try to stop me from helping someone who got in here, fair and square, on another test that already didn’t give them an advantage, then try. I’ll watch.”

Gods, he wishes he had a mic to drop.

“19, 20.”

Denki notes the fact that Student 17/18, green-haired but fairly buff, had seemed to run normally.

“He’s right. And if you can’t help, then stand aside.” Kirishima doesn’t push glasses meathead aside, but he does offer Denki a smile. “I don’t know how my Quirk can help, it’s not like yours, but I found the exercise metric sheet and I know the scores both of you need to tie.”

“You—”

“And my Quirk is Earphone Jack.”

Jiro’s beautiful voice, sweeter than any siren, cuts through. Her eyes slowly blink up at engine snitch, and Denki fights the sudden skip of his heart. “I can hear everyone within ten metres. I can provide a ‘truth’ to save those you’re dooming. Who will he believe?”

The teacher’s pet seethes. Denki smiles in an ugly way—the one with his squinting eye and only showing one dimple—before he quickly switches.

He storms off.

Denki turns his smile back to Hagakure and Mineta. “We need to start planning.”

“And I need the help, too.” Jiro doesn’t face him as she says this, though she twirls a jack around her finger more slowly than her casual stimming. Embarrassed.

“Okay. Then I’ll check with the rest of the class…” Denki’s eyes flick over to the green-haired, freckled boy. “Though I already think I see one.”

He’s coated in nervous sweat, which heightens his suspicions, and Denki taps him on the shoulder. When he spins and notices Denki, Denki notes the blush on his face. He’s cute, with the kind of face that’d benefit from a defined jaw and time. “Hey. Is your Quirk going to get you past these tests?”

His shoulders slump. Tears well up in his eyes, and he’s already wiping them away. “N-no. Whenever I use it, it breaks my bones.”

…

“What the Hades?”

“Eh?”

Oh, Zeus. “I meant hell, that was English. Spoken Japanese isn’t my first language, sorry, just–I offered to help Jiro, Hagakure, and Mineta over there. I’m going to get them all equal scores using my Quirk power, because they don’t have Quirks that’ll help them with this test, but I don’t want anyone to come in last place and fail, so I’ll get them all scores that’ll tie.”

Concern flashes in his eyes. “Will you have enough energy for me? Quirksalwayshavealimitandgettingfourpeopleplusthefactthatyouhavetokeepupyourownscoresbecauseyoualreadyshowedexcellencethoughthisisreallykind—”

Denki reaches out, and taps him on the shoulder again. The air notes were cute, though. “That’s for me to worry about. My limit’s easier to recharge than most. You’ll just have to deal with flat phone batteries.”

“Really? That’sfascinatingandyourQuirkmustbe—” Denki taps him on the shoulder again. “I’ll answer your questions later. But now, we got tests to hit. Name?”

“...Midoriya Izuku. Th-thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Chapter Text

Denki’s concept of fitness was one he hadn’t even realized was different from the standardized grade system for a good while—thanks, Mom. Awarding A grades, or 5 points, for those who reached or were above a certain high standard, B grades or 4 points for those who reached a range from that high standard to a slightly lower one, and blah blah so on was something he’d only learnt his first and last year at Ongaku Junior High. His only-ever official standardized tests had been epically aced with ease, thank you natural demigod athleticism and the fact that he did exercise on the regular, or at least kept himself fit according to his mother’s own metric system.

If you could outrun a monster, you were good in speed. If you could at least lift your bodyweight plus weapon, that was enough. If you could swing a weapon long enough without getting tired, then endurance was fine. As long as Denki hit those goals, Mom let him have freedom with his own workout plan.

But if Aizawa’s plan was to see how many A grades people could acquire with their Quirks, then playing by the official metric system it was.

“My Quirk is Electrification. I have the ability to manipulate electricity, and I can use it to manipulate the ambient electricity in the air. That’s the cause of my air manipulation, and that’s what I’ll be using to help you guys.”

Mild untruth. Mom’s Quirk was Neuron, which gave her the power to control the electricity connecting the neurons in someone’s brain. Dearest fucking jerk was the king of the gods and that meant Denki was supercharged with powers from him and would go brain dead if he overused them. His ability to control storms, wind, et cetera likely weren’t part of Electrification, especially since Denki still couldn’t figure out how not to indiscriminately discharge his electricity, but that was the explanation he’d cooked up for an excuse, to connect his powers.

“I also have the power to store the ambient electricity in the air around us, and my body can recharge using that. Midori, I see your face and I’ll explain my Quirk more later. Right now, those are the important details you need to know, so let’s get to passing.”

“We’re the lowest in class, so what? We’re just going to get all E or D grades?” Mineta asks, being the one to raise the need-to-answer question.

“Kaminari-kun already gave me an A…” Hagakure brings up, and Denki shrugs. “I figure I can get you guys A grades in two or more, then C in the rest?”

“Ah…I have an idea?” Midoriya raises his hand, and Denki fights down his snort. “Go ahead.”

“Wh-what if we stick to two A, two C, and D in the rest. Just in case anyone else in the class does poorly?” Midoriya’s eyes flick thoughtfully between their classmates as they migrate to the gym. “And the next test seems to be grip strength, so that’s not one you can help us much with. Conserve your energy, Kaminari-san.”

Then he drops his sudden confidence. “A-ah, if everyone’s alright with that? ImeanthatwontgiveusthebestscoresbutImworriedabouttherest—”

Denki taps his shoulder and winks. “We get it, Mido.” Then he turns his smile on the rest. “Everyone chill with that?”

Hagakure nods enthusiastically—going off the bobbing of her collar, and Mineta turns away muttering something about “guess pretty guys can be decent after all…” which Denki will have to watch for a bit more later. Jiro simply nods, but the jack she spins around one finger twirls faster than normal, and the other one spins on its own. She’s nervous, slightly worried, and Denki wishes he could just pull her aside and talk.

“01 to 10. Stop chit-chatting and hurry.”

Oh crap. One fringe benefit; Denki’s register number was 07, but Hagakure was 15/16, Midoriya was 17/18, Mineta was 19/20, and Jiro was 12—which he knew solidly because she sent a copy of her own entrance letter in response to his. That meant he would be able to focus solidly on them without having to use his powers for himself at the same time.

At least grip testing was something he could use his own electrical enhancement for. But to play it safe while saving enough for the other three…ugh, I hate how quickly wind burns my reserves. Probably to do with his natural quirk vs godly powers, or maybe it was in his head, but electricity always took less out of him compared to wind and storm stuff.

Static flits off his skin as he squeezes the digital tester, which he’d usually let free as a slight excess output, but conservation for later. It wasn’t much, just a few volts, but that might make all the difference, so he pulls it back into his skin rather than letting it disperse into the air.

127.4kg

Awesome for a few thousand volts—him without was, what, sixty? Denki heads up and displays the reader at the same time as Explosion Blond, whose scowl deepens at the sight of his score vs Denki’s—a solid 54.5kg. Great, one of the competitive brats here, like rules freak.

He grabs Denki by the shoulder while moving to return the tester. “Hey,” Denki huffs, shoving off his decently strong grip.

“Do you know who I am?” Explododie snaps, with the expectant look of yes.

Denki’s eyes flick over him. He’s the sort of pretty he could weaponize like Denki if he tried, with good natural features that’ll be spoiled eventually by his scowls. But he’s not kicking off any recall. “A weird jerk?”

“The name’s Bakugo Katsuki.”

“Am I supposed to know you?” He really needed to return the tester, not deal with one of those people who believed they were the main character.

A vein pops in Bakugo’s forehead. “Fuck yes you are! You didn’t pay attention to the top ten exam scorers?”

“Nope.” Denki couldn’t even remember his own score. He just knew it was good. All that mattered was he passed and got in.

“Fucking—”

“Are you going to stand around all day?”

“No, sir.” Denki calls off the last part in a slightly more mocking English than he means to, as he steps past Bakugo to return the tester.

Bakugo tries to corner him a second time, but Denki sidesteps him again to move to the farther side, observing Hagakure, Mineta, Midoriya, and Jiro. Shoot, he’d have to see if they were up to sharing their past scores so the fudging could be better. Though observing their forms—

“I got 87.6 kg! You?”

Denki subtly checks if Kirishima is asking anyone else before responding with his own score, which earns a whoop. “Man, that’s good! You lift?”

“Mostly about my own bodyweight. I do rock climbing and some martial arts. Used my electricity to enhance myself, which…for obvious reasons shouldn’t be used on others.”

Hagakure’s sleeve vibrated with effort, while sweat poured down Mineta’s face and Jiro was visibly gritting her teeth. Midoriya simply squeezed the tester and moved on, which. Well. Denki studied his arms a bit more.

“Uh, Kaminari-san?”

“Yeah?” Denki responds, glancing quickly at the classmate who addressed him—a girl with cute flushed cheeks and a fluffy, round hairstyle. “You’re?”

“I’m Uraraka Ochaco. I don’t think I’ll need help myself—but I heard you’re helping them, and I want to help too. My Quirk is Zero Gravity, and anything I touch isn’t affected by gravity. I’ll touch all of their clothes and shoes to lighten them like mine now.” She waves a hand, showing adorable pads on the fingertips, which are well-cared for.

He smiles at her, hopes rising. “Thanks. That’ll help.” Especially if he didn’t need to throw around so much weight with his wind.

“Score?” Kirishima asked as Midoriya dragged himself over to them despondently, a classmate with oddly-pivoted elbows and nicely-combed hair having exclaimed Mysterious Mask’s record for all to hear.

“82.3kg,” Midoriya mutters despondently, and Denki whistles. “That’s great! Solid A there.”

“My 50 metre run was 7.02 seconds, which is a B. That means I’ll need 5 D grades and no C.” Midoriya slumps, face dead.

Denki winces. “Uh, hold on. Someone remember all of these or write them down—I’ve got ADHD and I will mix them up, that’s a warning.”

“I can remember them!” Kirishima holds up a hand. “Don’t worry, man. We have your backs.”

Midoriya’s eyes well up, and Denki’s mouth falls open as he begins to cry a verifiable river. “W-wait—”

“Sorry, I’m just…thank you!” he sobs, wiping at his eyes, and Denki pulls out a pack of makeup wipes, wincing. “Again, don’t worry about it.”

“You…don’t have any normal tissues?” Uraraka asks, glancing at the wipe as she pats Midoriya’s back, and Denki laughs awkwardly as he dabs at Midoriya’s face. “Well, usually I catch anything that might stain…so the only thing I’ve really needed to clean is some flubbed makeup.”

“Do you have a makeup kit on you?”

Denki blinks. “You don’t?”

Uraraka snorts slightly, undignified. “Sorry, that’s just…so model-like!”

“What’s model-like?” Mineta grumbles as he walks over, flexing his fingers, escorted by Hagakure and Jiro. Hagakure throws her arms up. “Anything Kaminari-kun does!”

“I am by definition, yes.” Denki grins before quickly shooting, “Er, if you don’t mind, if you share your scores from middle school we might be able to personalize them to make them plausible…”

“And your scores from the grip test just now,” Kirishima hastily adds.

They talk strategy as they head back outside for standing long-jump, and in another parallel world, with his sports fixation Kirishima absolutely would’ve been an Ares or Nike kid, as he rambles off the grade bands with no hesitation. At least that made him a good replacement for Ponytail, who seemed to be avoidant.

2 A grades, 2 C grades and 4 D grades would have a total of 24 points—calculated by high math scorers, aka checked by everyone not named Denki. So long Mineta, Midoriya, Hagakure and Jiro all ended up with 24, they would be tied no matter the order (and hopefully Aizawa wouldn’t expel four classmates). Midoriya’s previous calculation was correct—2 A, 1 B, 5 D, and then they had to recalculate for Mineta who had scored an E on grip strength while Hagakure and Jiro managed D. 2 A, 3 C, 3 D, 1 E. He would never not remember this without help.

Hagakure had gotten A for the 50m dash and had passed by notice due to Student 15, a pretty boy who weaponized ice. The long-jumps were under more scrutiny due to being individualized, only one at a time, so Kirishima rattled off the grade bands and it was decided she would get a C. Jiro would get A, Mineta and Midoriya D. For her it wasn’t a huge progression, as Jiro had been a previous B.

Denki himself simply skipped the full sandbox in one jump.

He didn’t really put in effort, which meant he wasn’t as far as Explosion Brat, which earned him a wild, manic grin thrown over his shoulder.

So he was fixated on the pretty and powerful obstacle. Whatever. Denki could deal with not winning a one-sided imagination rivalry.

Mineta scored his first A in sustained sideways jumps with a clever use of Pop Off, and Jiro and Hagakure both earned Cs without Denki’s help. Midoriya was strong, but wasn’t fast, so Denki had to propel him slightly to hit the D grade before the timer. Denki didn’t use any wind for himself, just electrical enhancement, and gods Explosion Freak was a freak, he did not stop watching him, mouth moving silently to count.

Then they rotated back to ball throw, and Denki sighed in relief as he was skipped.

He artificially pulled Hagakure’s would-be E to a D, and did the same for Jiro. The grades were hit with no issue. So of course, that’s when the Fates decided it was time to fuck the plan over.

Denki grinds his nails into his palm as Aizawa reels Midoriya in.

They can’t hear what he’s saying, but Midoriya’s eyes flick to land on Denki before he yanks them away, as his face turns an unflattering, terrified pallor and Denki gains an idea of their discussion. He was likely being questioned on their cheating. Four-eyed tattletale, unfortunately, did contain a modicum of intelligence and whispered to him, “See? He’s paying for your crime.”

“This isn’t even a school-mandated test,” Denki snaps back in return. “He got in here fair and square during the entrance exam.”

“Solely on rescue points.” Those had actually been a shock to see, seeing as they’d bumped his score up by a lot.

Denki gives him a blank look. “What, so saving others isn’t of equal weight to capturing the villain?”

“It’s not that—it’s the simple fact that he coasted in on that alone!” Rulebook idiot huffs. “Someone who has no idea how to control his Quirk shouldn’t be here. Not if he destroys himself on every use.”

Boom.

Denki whips around as the sky splits, his jaw dropping at the show of power. A single softball pierces through the air with pure, raw power, setting off a shockwave hitting just a second behind.

HOLY SHIT.

It falls to the ground in the far, far distance. It’s not the pinprick Denki’s had become, the propulsion was smaller, but no less impressive.

…Wait.

His eyes snap back to Midoriya. One finger is purple and drooping, dripping blood. His face is wet with tears of pain.

It’s not a worthy price for making Engine Nerd eat his words. Nothing is worth a broken finger just to shut someone up.

Then Midoriya, stupidly powerful idiot, clenches his hand back in a fist. And Aizawa smiles.

Denki’s eye twitches.

“Whenever I use it, it breaks my bones.”

His skin crackles.

WHAT THE FUCK AIZAWA—

“HEY!”

His eyes snap to a different target.

“DEKU! TELL ME—”

Denki catches the side of Explosion Bastard’s arm. He twists and rams his knee into his gut. As Discount Clarisse’s sparking hands move up, he summons the winds, dragging the explosions up. They dissipate into the sky in two twin, concentrated columns, harmless, unable to hurt classmates. For his final trick, Denki pins Angry Bitch’s hands above his head and slams a shin on his thighs.

“No, you stop.”

Fuck. English again. His new class was going to be the death of him.

Uncontrolled static spills off his skin. Insane Bomb jerks, yet no more smoke spills from his fingers. His eyes widened. “The hell?! My quirk—”

“Was erased.”

…If he erased his Quirk, can he erase my powers?

My godly blood which comprises half of my DNA?

Denki doesn’t make the mistake of looking away, even as his stomach turns and his palms itch. He keeps his eyes steady on the bucking little fucking explosive bastard who tried to attack Midoriya.

“Kam—”

Denki springs off Bakugo immediately, bounding out of range out of sight he cannot take the risk.

But that doesn’t mean he takes his eyes off Bakugo.

The moment he’s off, Bakugo tries to activate his Quirk again, charging like an enraged drakon when it doesn’t work. The white scarf that had been the only good contrast against the black hobo clothes streaks out, wrapping around Bakugo’s limbs, before Denki can move.

“Would you stop that,” the other little bastard who goaded Midoriya snaps. Oh, he was getting testy.

Denki bites down on his inner lip, drawing blood, which is a bitch since he hates digesting anything and blood is the worst. He lets the pain white out the surroundings for a moment, before his speed-healing kicks in and fixes the wound. It snaps him back out of the rage and fear.

He may have only known Midoriya for a few hours, but like hell he’d let anyone get blasted by a jerk.

“Permission to take Midoriya to the school nurse?” A broken finger was still a broken finger.

“N-no.”

Midoriyas’s voice is steady, and despite the tears in his eyes, he’s standing upright and holding strong. There is unfortunate, resolute, frustrating obstination in his eyes. “Not until the tests are over.”

Aizawa doesn’t rebuke him.

This guy is going to be the death of me.

“Fine.” Denki reaches for the hem of his dress shirt. He tears a shred off.

He ignores Midoriya’s yelps and protests as he binds the finger with the makeshift bandage. It’s just a shirt, and he’s an international model; he can more than afford to replace it.

People aren’t something so easily fixed.

“This should help with the blood flow.”

Their pretty boy ice user classmate, with elegant, fine features and an oddly split hairstyle that Denki will think about more later, steps forward to ice Midoriya’s finger. Ponytail pulls pills resembling the painkillers Mom chokes every month out of her arm, and Uraraka bounds up with water.

The expression on Midoriya’s face is one Denki never wants to see again.

It’s the utterly confused face of someone who’s never been offered help.

“If you’re not going to the infirmary, then…” Ponytail holds out the painkillers.

Hagakure has tissues for Midoriya to wipe his eyes.

It’s not just a broken finger, idiot.

Maybe it’s because Denki started it, but none of their classmates questions the makeshift treatment of Midoriya’s finger. After all, Midoriya hadn’t asked for the pandering, and Denki will gladly shoulder the ‘overreacted’ view if it means Midoriya’s injury is mitigated even a little.

Seeing as the ball throw ended up being his second A, and considering that it was the first test after the injury, and considering Aizawa most definitely HAD TO HAVE ACCESS TO FILES STATING MIDORIYA’S QUIRK DRAWBACK, it made sense for Midoriya to score poorly on the remaining tests. Hagakure had to get her second A during sit-ups…

Midoriya is now 1 B, 1 A, 2 D, 1 A, 3 D for everything remaining…Hagakure is 1 A, 1 D, 2 C, 1 D, A for sit-ups…Mineta is 1 D, 1 E, D, A, C…?

Right. C for ball throw.

Jiro was C for her 50m run and sideways jumps, her first A was long jump, her endurance run had been C back in Ongaku so she’d have to artificially lower that, her seated toe-touch had been A back then too…

The faster it is done, the sooner Midoriya can be treated.

The whole class starts the endurance run at the same time.

Energy thrums through him as he breathes in. No more needing to be economical with the excess sparks. He knew how much he needed to save for the other four jogging at the same time, and he’d be better able to concentrate on them if he finished first.

The best way to achieve that was using flight. For shorter tests, meant to be a quick blink like the 50m run, flying was useless because Denki was smack dab between Jason and Thalia, natural flyer and ground-lover. He hated practising flying because it’d taken months before he could even get to the point of not needing to be in a death-defying freefall-off-cliff first. That fed into the cycle of hence sucking at it, because he detested practice

It needed a windup time. But if he could get himself afloat, then propel himself with the winds, he was set.

It was difficult to lift his feet off the ground precisely because it wasn’t natural to have nothing beneath them and focus on anything besides that.

Speed this up, Denki Kaminari.

He breathes out.

He’s careful with the shockwave, of course.

In the end, he finished second, at 2 minutes and 37.5 seconds. Engine snitch finishes first, barely, but Denki doesn’t have his eyes on him. He has to tuck and roll to minimize the impact, conversation of energy law application and all that, especially since he’s crap at stopping still. Denki lifts their limbs with the wind, making it easier to run by placing their own weight on himself, and keeps his eyes on the clock.

Pomeranian avoids him after coming in at 4 minutes, 12 seconds. At least kicking his ass was good for something.

No one finishes in E grade. Denki counts their own classmates coming in, and no one finishes in E grade, but Midoriya is still dead last and dreadfully close.

He’s panting, and Denki braces the air in case of a collapse, keeping him supported as they line up for results. His face isn’t twisted in pain any more, but the shred of fabric around his finger is bleeding and dripping out onto the grass.

“If you don’t go to the infirmary after this, I will drag you there. Bodily.” He warns Midoriya, receiving a shaky smile and a nod in return. Good, because apparently he had no idea what the phrase self preservation was.

At least Aizawa isn’t exposing their scores en masse, and Denki can’t even argue at the showcase speeding everything up. His eyes don’t look for his name, but last place first.

His blood turns to ice.

Of course he had a different metric for recording.

Hagakure is 20th place, Mineta is 19th, Midoriya is 18th, and Jiro is 17th.

Denki doomed her.

“By the way, the expulsion thing was a lie.”

…

“It was a logical ruse to draw out your potential.”

Okay. Fine. Fine. He might just need to electrocute Aizawa with a million-point-three volts after recharging his reserves, but—

“I told you—”

“No one’s expelled.” Denki breathes. His shoulders don’t slump, his posture’s too ingrained for that, but oh gods. The plan failed but screw that, no one’s out.

He’s relieved for all of three seconds.

“Midoriya, go see Recovery Girl.”

…Right. Fuck. Broken finger.

Gods damn it.

Denki is about to state his escort intentions when Aizawa glances over at him. “You haven’t gotten your gym uniform yet, have you? And pick up his curriculum sheet for him, I guess.”

Midoriya glances over at him with an I’m-fine-no-need-to-worry face. “Um–thanks, Kaminari-san.”

“No problem.” Denki manages, and doesn’t outwardly deflate. He should be helping him head there, but he’s been outwardly overprotective enough for one day, right?

Kirishima bumps his shoulder. “Follow me, man. I’ll show you the changing rooms.”

“Oh, and an autograph after?” Ashido asks, tilting a fluffy-haired head with an eager face.

Denki musters a smile. “Sure!”

He has to pick up his bag, since he’d stupidly brought it with him, and he claims his new gym uniform from the changing rooms after a quick size check. It wasn’t even in the gym, but one of the changing rooms back in the main building. Then he fixes his school uniform and hides the tear with his blazer, which won’t be a fun story to explain to Mom. Probably for the best if he flat out scraps it and buys a new one.

He sits on the bench by the door to wait. His hands don’t shake—they don’t—as he touches up his eyeliner. The other boys are still changing, so he pulls out his eyeshadow compact and dabs on glitter for a smoky look. It’s too much. He wipes it off and redoes his eyeliner from scratch.

“Kaminari-san?”

“I assume you’ve tattled?” Denki intones flatly, uncapping his mascara pen. He peers into the compact mirror. “The endurance run. You finished first then.”

“The purpose of Aizawa-sensei’s test was to analyse our potential. He wanted to see how we would react in the event of a metaphorical, ‘death’.”

“Great. Lovely. Excellent teacher behavior.” Should he add blush? Just a bit, and he still had wipes.

“Judging by your reaction, Kaminari-san, you will make a great Pro Hero.”

Shit. He smeared the mascara.

“What?”

“Your response to a test that could affect our attendance at UA despite not being part of the academic curriculum was to offer help to others, because it was unfair and unexpected. You arrived late, giving you the least warning and even forcing you to take part in nonoptimal clothing, yet you still placed second overall.”

“I did?”

“Yes?!” Glasses snaps. The look he’s given is pure bafflement. “Your observation skills are blatantly incredible, yet you didn’t even see your own marks?”

“Dude.” Denki swipes all of his right eye clean, wincing. “I don’t care about being the best. You can fight in the rat race for all I care.”

“You placed first in the entrance exam?”

“...I actually forgot, soooo…”

Glasses twitches. Denki fights back his grin and starts work on matching his eyeliner back.

“I wish to start over, as I believe we began on the wrong foot and I should not have reacted the way I did, and I see the way you reacted to the test as admirable. I strive to better myself, and I hope to achieve that by being on amicable terms with you. My name is Ida Tenya.”

Denki snaps his compact shut, staring down the extended hand.

“Apologize to Midoriya first.” He tilts his head up to stare Ida dead in the eye. “I didn’t call you out in the hall during the entrance exam because that would’ve just started a fight and a rampage. But calling Midoriya out for his muttering was like if someone said your hand-chopping was disruptive. Not pleasant. Not only that, you shone a spotlight on him for the whole hall to laugh, even if that wasn’t your intention.”

Ida bows a full ninety degrees, which sets off an uncomfortable image of demigods kneeling at the gods’ heel. “I understand. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It was not my intention to humiliate him.”

“...I’m not comfortable with people bowing to me.” Denki mutters as he stands up, which forces Ida to stop bowing.

Whoa. Headrush. He blinks, but the spots in his vision are petulant, irritating little shits.

“Kaminari? Are you alright?”

He flicks open his compact. “No, I haven’t finished my eyeliner.” There’s an annoying spot that’s sticking on stubbornly, though. He moves his pen, then his face, but can’t see the result.

“I don’t believe it is just that.”

“I told you, didn’t I? Beauty is vital to perception, and looking killer is important.”

“So is vocalizing when you are not alright.” Ida pulls out a rectangular bar Denki can’t make out. “This has 156 calories and consists of oats and nuts. Do you have any allergies?”

“Meh.” If he did have any, his speed-healing would take care of the reaction. He just needed a source of electricity.

Shoot. Did he bring his backup phone chargers? Draining the power from those might clear the spots.

“I believe eating something will do you some good.” Foil crinkling, and Ida rips open the packet. He snaps the bar in two and offers one half to Denki.

Denki blinks down at it. “Thanks, but I don’t eat.”

“What?”

…Yeah, there was no getting out of this, was there? Ugh, why’d he even say that? Plus it was rude to reject food.

The granola bar is, unfortunately, blastingly, good.

“Thanks,” Denki mumbles. His vision’s clear now, and his brain fog’s ebbing too. His reserves weren’t so low he was dipping into whey, but he’d definitely been thinking more slowly. “Hate to say it, but that helped.”

Ida smiles, and crap, he actually looks happy to have helped. “I’m glad.”

Denki blanches when he opens his compact mirror, saving himself from replying to weirdly genuine sentiment from a surprisingly-okay tattletale. How had he smeared his eyeliner so badly?

He fixes it quickly and snaps his compact shut for the last time, packing away his makeup kit. A glance reveals Kirishima dressed and smoothing down his blazer. “Let’s head up and collect the curriculum pamphlets. I still owe Hagakure-chan and Ashido-chan autographs.”

“Isn’t that encouraging them?” Kirishima asks, though there’s more amusement in his voice than jealousy. They turn out of the changing rooms.

“They have three years to get over me being their classmate. And if I don’t sign now, I’ll be hounded for longer. Better to just satisfy them first, I’ve learned. No offense.”

“What if they ask for duplicates and sell them?”

“I have trust in them as hero students. They can have the money, though oversaturation can spoil a market.”

“You’d really let someone sell your autograph?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Kirishima snorts, and Denki grins at him, accenting his words with a hair flip. “Plus, mine isn’t really unique. I’ve signed for tons.”

“Nah, I think it is. You’re one of a kind, Kaminari.”

The Oh, I know is on his tongue, ready as an easy banter back. But it sticks in his throat.

One of a kind.

“Oh, I do believe the entrance exam is a factor in Bakugo’s hatred of you,” Ida drops, and Denki blinks up at him but seizes the subject change. “What?”

He shoots Denki an exasperated stare—which, understandable to some degree, because Denki really couldn’t understand how people could remember their precise grades, or expect him to remember the precise grade when the last time he saw it was a month and a half ago. “You were in first place, and extraordinarily far from the first runner-up, with 63 villain points and 48 rescue points. The first runner-up was Bakugo, who had 77 villain points and zero rescue points. It was shown in the top ten results.”

“Those are listed for every entrance letter? Dude, why’d you memorize them?”

“Nah, I think they just show if you’re in the top ten!” Kirishima grins. “I was third place. Got almost even for both, 39 villain and 35 rescue.”

“I was sixth. Both of your scores are very impressive, and it’s proof I must strive even farther!” Denki has to duck slightly as Ida chops a hand.

“Hagakure’s impressive too. All three of us have Quirks with a natural advantage against robots, but she got in with a subtler Quirk. It’s not really a good exam, seeing as it heavily favors offensive to mental or perception-based Quirks. Those are more greatly overlooked, yet Quirks that only activate on humans can be incredibly useful, and they’re thinned out because of the use of robots.”

“That’s…true,” Ida puts a hand to his chin, as though in deep thought that isn’t really warranted. “And a very nuanced viewpoint. I believe I further understand your statement that the exam was biased, and I now have more respect for Hagakure-san.”

Denki laughs. Well, having a mom with a mental Quirk makes you more aware of the bullshit practises making it more difficult for her to access stuff. “I grew up in a place that’s known for eating you alive; the world of fashion, image, and appearance. You don’t survive there with brute force. You thrive there with the Quirks I just listed.”

“Then that makes you impressive for surviving there without them, right?”

…Wait, huh?

Denki blinks at Kirishima. “I-I guess? Though I did have two advantages that got me through; my mom, and my looks.”

“Is she a model too?” Kirishima asks, and, well. Denki knows he couldn’t have known, especially since he wasn’t as popular amongst the male audience, and it had been almost two years ago.

But it stung anyway.

“She was. And before you start with the apologies, geez. It’s fine. She’s still alive, just on a different career path.” Denki waves a hand, dismissively, and deliberately glances around. “Also, this is the right path back to class, right?”

“It is. Our classroom is right over there.” Ida points, and thanks coincidence saving him as Jiro happens to open the door and peek out. “Jiro! Need to talk to you,” Denki grins, shooting her finger guns, and she rolls her eyes. “Fine, hurry up. Did you take so long because you were redoing your makeup again?”

“You know me so well.” Denki mock gasps, ducking through the door. Neither Hagakure nor Ashido are in, or Uraraka and Ponytail, and pamphlets are already missing from a handful of desks. Jiro is the only one in the classroom at all.

She steps to the second row and gestures to the desk in the second column, skirt swishing around her thighs as if to highlight her beauty in the UA uniform. “Also, seating is according to the register.”

“Aw, we’re next to each other! And thanks for being a nosy listener.” Denki smiles, picking up his pamphlet from his desk. “Midoriya’s register 18, right?”

“Bakugo was by to pick up 17 earlier anyway. You good?” Jiro sits on her desk, twirling her jack, looking intimidatingly stunning. Denki isn’t sure why the other two haven’t come in.

“When am I not, Jiro-Jack?” Denki slips into an English accent, really rolling the syllables on her name, and shoots her a wink. Her hair isn’t covering her ears, and he gets to see her blush even as she rolls her eyes. “Still on for tomorrow’s jam session?”

“That’s my line. Sure you don’t need to crash? Then I can spare my ears for a week.”

“My riffs are a national treasure and you’re well aware they are.” Denki dusts Midoriya’s pamphlet off and grabs his backpack, throwing it over one shoulder. He makes a surprised noise. Huh, what bricks does he have in here? Today was just supposed to be the entrance ceremony.

“More like a constant agony on the eardrums. But it’s my job to make them more bearable, I suppose.” Jiro lets out a dramatic sigh.

“The world will thank you when I finally get to credit my guitar teacher.” Denki bends to quickly check under Midoriya’s desk, before straightening. “Also, a new episode of Miraculous will be out next week, so video call or home call?” Unlike the movie, Denki wasn’t the voice actor for Adrien in the series. Castings had been open due to the series’ actor having his hands full with dubbing the currently-airing sixteenth season and hence unable to act for the movie. Denki had applied for acting in four languages and got the role for three.

“I guess it depends how quickly school ends that day, and how much social battery I’ll save for you.”

“All of it? I’m capable of recharging any battery.” Denki throws her another wink, before glancing under his own desk to check he hasn’t missed any additional materials.

“And draining any. Good thing mine’s one you can’t touch.”

“And it’s a good thing you’ll save for me regardless, I assume?” Denki leans against his desk and flips his hair, deliberately angled to catch Jiro’s eye roll as he pushes a small gust of wind through the classroom, ruffling her hair and glimpsing her flushed ears.

“I’ll see if I can stand you then, Jamming-whey.”

A single conversation with her has him feeling capable of flying at mach speeds, shaking off the stress of the day. He half wishes Aizawa-sensei had turned out to be a monster, except Jiro would have alerted him if that was the case, and the whole point of picking UA as a hero school was because it wasn’t an easy mark for monsters, giving him relief to study in peace. But monsters were easy to fight, too. Teachers who were being unfair little shits were harder.

Denki supposes that’s why today was so miserable when it wasn’t even comparable to the hopelessness of the Battle of Manhattan. Because that had been a tangible threat he could shoot full of lightning. This one, that might just kill him by accident, was one he couldn’t.

He smiles at her. “Looking forward to seeing you.”

Jiro’s mouth falls open. Her cheeks turn a delicious blush, a look Denki can never get enough of.

“Um, can we come in?”

Denki glances over at the classroom door. Kirishima and Ida are poking their heads through. “Uh, yeah? Why?”

“Kirishima-san said we should give the two of you privacy for your discussion.” Denki’s fascinated by how much force there has to be behind Ida’s hand-chops. Would it be unethical to bring some karate boards next week? “Also, Jiro-san, please do not sit on your desk!”

She rolls her eyes and hops off, skirt fluttering about her thighs. Denki can recognize when he’s blushing, and he really should’ve put on some concealer in preparation for Jiro proximity.

“We weren’t talking anything big or important, just catching up on stuff.” He waves a hand, mentally rethanking Jiro for helping him avoid needing to explain the…accident.

“Do you know each other from middle school?” Kirishima asks as he grabs his pamphlet, ducking to check his desk.

“We went to the same junior high for a bit.” Jiro shrugs, twisting a jack about her ear as she shoulders her bag. “Anyway, I’m off. Remember where the infirmary is?”

“I’m not that dumb of a blond,” Denki huffs in mock offense, as Ida begins to recite exact directions to the infirmary regardless.

“Just don’t get lost, Kaminari.” She waves a three-fingered, rock-n-roll salute, as she exits and the door shuts behind her. He’ll have to see if he can learn that sign tomorrow.

“By the way, can I ask something?” Kirishima says, zipping up his bag.

“Yeah?”

He hesitates, a conflicted look on his face. There’s a bunch of things Denki figures he could ask, and is probably considering their current acquaintance level. “Never mind.”

“...Okay. Midoriya’s probably out by now, so we should head out too.” Denki shrugs, heading for the door.

He pushes it open and smacks right into Midoriya.

“Ah!” Unfortunately, both of them are about hitting the national average height, meaning perfect for mutual crashing. Denki rubs his forehead, wincing. The room is being a bitch, aka it’s spinning again.

“AH! KaminarisanImreallysorryareyouokayisyourhead—”

“Fine,” Denki groans, and it takes a moment for realization to hit.

Oh crap.

“Act-Actually,” he stresses, and the accent is still slightly off. “I’m fine.”

Zeus, why wasn’t it sticking?

“OhmygodisyourvoiceokayKaminari—”

Denki inhales, holds up a hand, and nods. He’s got this. It’s just a stupid accent. He raises a thumbs up before internally cursing, because he always looks cheesy and it makes Jiro laugh.

“...Okay. My bag…?” Midoriya reaches for it, and Denki readies to sling it off before stopping. He studies Midoriya.

“Is your finger alright?”

Finally, back to perfect Shizuoka accent. Midoriya nods as he lifts his bandaged finger. “Yeah, I’m good. Recovery Girl fixed it.”

“Okay, good.” Denki surrenders the bag. “Painkillers?”

“I can’t even feel anything, I didn’t need any.” Midoriya smiles as he slings his backpack on before yelping as Ida enters the two-metre radius. “A-ah! Ida-kun?”

“Midoriya!” Ah, there’s the 90-degree bow again. Denki gets the feeling he’ll have to use Ida as his own exposure therapy for Not Thinking About Bow Implications. “Kaminari-san brought it to my attention that I brought humiliation upon you at the entrance exam briefing when I tried to stop what I perceived to be disturbing others! I apologize.”

“Errrrr, well, you weren’t necessarily wrong?” Midoriya flails about. “I-I mean, I was being—”

“Gonna cut you off right there.” Denki clicks his tongue. “Ida could have had a point, sure, but he didn’t need to yell it out in conjunction when addressing Present Mic, which resulted in the whole hall being aware of what essentially amounted to a minor disturbance that could have been remedied with a simple tap on the shoulder to alert you.”

“...Yes. Hence, my apology. I hope you will accept it.”

“Uh?” Midoriya’s mouth is still hanging open. Denki does a cursory scan for flies. “A-ah, yes! Yes, I do, please stand back up, Ida-kun…”

“Oh, you’re here!”

Uraraka peeks her head through the door. “I checked the infirmary, but it’s nice to see you’re out already!”

Midoriya nods. “Y-yeah, I’m fine…” There’s a blush on his face, and Denki takes note for unrelated reasons.

She steps into the room and counts, “Kaminari Denki, Ida Tenya, Kirishima Ejiro, and Midoriya…Deku, right?”

Denki tilts his head. “I thought your name was Izuku?”

“Eh? But during the physical exams, Bakugo said Deku?” Denki can’t remember that. He was probably seething too much.

“Well, my actual name is Izuku, but Kacchan likes to use Deku for fun…”

“So it’s an insult? Geez, not cool.” Kirishima frowns, crossing his arms.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize!” Uraraka rubs the back of her head in embarrassment. “Though it sounds like the kanji of ‘you can do it’, so I think it is kind of cool!”

“You can call me that!” Yeah, he’s definitely checking in on that strawberry later. The green hair is a shockingly good compliment further accentuating the resemblance.

Though the nickname is one Denki’s honestly confused by. It shares similar homophones to Midoriya’s first name, yet it’s a word he’s never heard, so later he’ll have to bring out the dictionaries. It’s an insult, but Denki can’t help but feel excited to figure out what it is anyway.

“If everyone’s alright, I’ll be seeing you on Monday,” Denki waves a two-fingered salute.

“Are you heading to the station? We can walk that way with you,” Uraraka beams, already heading for the door.

“Nope, moved to a neighbourhood within walking distance. For paparazzi reasons, sorry but I’ll be leaving alone.”

“We can still walk to the gate with you, man,” Kirishima laughs. “Though you’re really rich, huh? I heard the neighbourhoods around UA are super expensive.”

It wasn’t much out of convenience as it was out of survival. Private transport always ran the risk of monster chauffeurs, and Denki hadn’t wanted to burden Mom with driving every day. Hence, self-travel had been the only option, even if it meant practicing personal navigation. “Sorry, the risk of public transport is too great.”

“Ah, I suppose we’ll be on the train like peasants,” Uraraka laughs, stepping through the door as Ida holds it open for all of them. “Which lines are you heading for?”

It’s a conversation Denki can’t really add to, so he trails behind as they make for the elevator. Then Kirishima yelps. “Oh crap—Kaminari, the autographs—”

“You and Ashido know each other, right? Text her I’ll sign a limited number on Monday.” Denki’s actually pretty sure he forgot his collection of glitter pens today, which he usually uses to make the autographs more interesting.

“Could you sell them for money?” Uraraka wonders, and Denki laughs. “Funny answer or stock market answer?”

“Stock market answer?”

“Slips of paper only will get you called a fraud. Signed bags will probably earn from the freakier ones. Body pillows, handwash, cups, those are more marketable than just plain autographs. Though, like I said earlier to Ida and Kirishima, my market is particularly oversaturated since I’ll sign anything that isn’t skin.”

“...I see…” Uraraka mutters, looking contemplative. Denki actually doesn’t mind those who just want a bit of additional allowance for a new game console, or if it’s someone who needs the allowance for more constant lunch. Though those, he’ll usually ask his mom to help with looking for a more stable source of income than selling autographs.

“Isn’t that exploitative?” Ida asks, with genuine heartfelt concern on his face that really isn’t warranted, considering Denki’s an industry pro. “Is it not disturbing, how they use your image?”

“I’m in the acceptance stage, because I can’t exactly do anything about it. There are always going to be those people, so you might as well use them to benefit yourself if you can’t stop them. And I don’t mind if you use me too, if you ever need to.”

Weirdly, his classmates share a look before Ida speaks up, “I do not believe I would feel comfortable with the mass production of weaponization of your image, Kaminari. I view you as a current acquaintance I hope becomes a friend, and I hope you believe I will never do that to you.”

“That’s sweet, but I really don’t mind. People have done worse with it.” Denki laughs, slinging his bag off to fish for his beanie and face mask. “See you Monday.”